"Parking lot pig?" Me???

A few weeks ago I went to get a haircut after work. My hairstylist (and why I go to one I don't know--as you can see, I keep it pretty short) is located in a strip mall in Redwood Shores, California. Parking there is incredibly tight. I found one spot, but the cars were slightly, and I mean slightly over the line, so I squeezed my way in, and I too, was slightly over the line.

When I returned to my car 45 minutes later, the neighboring cars were gone, and I found a stickie note on my door. It had a line drawing of a pig, with wording that read, "You are a parking lot pig, and I could barely squeeze into my car. Thank you." Had I been in my former hometown of Boston, I'm sure my tires would have been slashed with no note, so I found this pretty humorous. Not to mention the following: on the flipside of the note was a brief shopping list: tortilla chips, cheese, etc. So who, might I ask, is the pig?

Skip forward to last night. My wife and were in Downtown San Carlos eating dinner. There was a constant ruckus as cars tried to get in and out of one extremely tight space. Why the commotion? Because a true "parking lot pig" had gone way over the line, and in a Honda Civic, to boot. So ladies and gentlemen, in the spirit of "two wrongs DO make a right," let me introduce to you San Carlos' own parking lot pig. Oh, and it's only out of a rare sense of I don't know what that I have scratched out -- literally -- this vile offender's license plate number.