Hello, you there. Would it kill you to give me a bit of parking tips around here before you maliciously direct me to a foreign parking lot that charges RM2 per friggin hour? Would it absolutely be fatal for you to even be nicer as you explain to me that no, I can't do a 3-point reverse, I hafta go around the building?
Thanks, Nicholle, for helping me find the place.
And much thanks to the nice Malay uncle who guards the pricey parking lot who helped me find a parking spot.
But you. Behind that snobbish glass doors that can only be opened with a beeping remote. Would it so crush your stone heart to exchange an old five-dollar bill for my useless polymer new five-dollar bill? Or any change, really. Is it my friggin fault that your self-paying parking meter
doesn't accept polymer paper money, especially when all I have is a five and 2 fifties? ALso, is it necessary to refer me to the guardhouse before I even finish my sente-
...God please grant me self-control.
Thank you, makcik at the mamak stall, for sparing me some change. Although it took the parking meter ages to accept them.
All the vehicles that shared the highway with me throughout my whole sleepy drive back to KL for work. Thank you for not banging me. Thanks for not honking at me as my eyelids grew heavy and the steering wheel went slightly amok.
Thank you God. For keeping me safe and well. And for keeping me on my toes. And for this internship, hellish as it is
right at this moment.
Couldn't have done it without ya.
And you. Thanks for praying for me. And pumping the petrol. ;)
