So the other night we got all dressed up for Mitch's movie premiere. Mike was in a suit and tie with his hair tied back, I had on this nice-ass evening gown thingie and even went so far as to wear heels. Being that this is out of character for us, we felt like we looked rather fly and didn't want to just go straight home afterwards. The whole cast and crew was going to Corosh for some partying but we felt slightly intrusive including ourselves in their little swaray and had no money anyway. Instead we drove up Lake Shore Drive past the lovely night skyline and pulled over on Randolph street to stroll through the park. I'm telling you, the sign said 15 minute parking from 11pm to 6am!
So meanwhile, we're being the sickeningly romantic and cute couple we can sometimes be, strolling along in the mist and kissing and talking about how in love we are and all that shit. We were careful to be conscious of the time passing, knowing full well we had limitted minutes to leave our car there. On our way back to the street we were exchanging our plans for eachother's bodies once we got home and getting hotter and hotter until we reached the top of the concrete steps and saw that our cute little Beretta was nowhere to be found. Yes, folks, it had been prematurely towed to the Chicago Central Auto Pound, thus marking the seventh time in the past year we had been towed in this fine city. Being the seasoned veterans of towedness that we are, we knew we were within walking distance of the loathsome pound and strolled over there as it started raining. You can imagine how that altered the mood of the evening.

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