I dream of spending my days on Hwy 1, up in Tahoe, at Lagunitas Brewery, and Cowgirl Creamery, and my nights oggling the valet guys at Perbacco and Town Hall. You get the point: pretty much anywhere except this parking lot.
I would much rather be out hauling your latest find from the Treasure Island Flea Market, helping you with that unpronounceable marvel from Ikea, or schlepping home multiple kegs for your latest home brew adventure.
Please help me escape this concrete purgatory I call home. The troll I call my owner keeps me here when I'm not out on a grand adventure.