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Sunday, April 29, 2007

Another Moment to Bore You With

See what happens when a pregnant chick gets sick?

SHE GETS VERY BORING!

Why? Because, I've probably spent 36 of the last 48 hours sleeping in 4 hour intervals. I've read 1.5 books while sweating to death beneath the blankets.

Daddy Dearest has slept the past 2 nights on the couch because 1) he doesn't want to bother me 2) I wake up every few hours 3) his side of the bed has become home to my Kleenex supply and 4) the bedding is covered in cold germs.

While I can actually breathe for the first time in days, I still have that dry sore throat that comes with breathing through your mouth for two days and the hot-flashes have yet to subside. I'm still not sure whether it would be wise to venture down the block to do laundry today.

Meanwhile, my brain is fried and I'm entertaining myself with stupid surveys. Since you are obviously ENJOYING your weekend, while I remain in sick-prego isolation, I feel the need to torment you with this mind-numbing stupidity. This was question #1 on the latest survey I read. It is a post all in itself, and that's okay since the rest of the questions were just more pointless shit like "Do you close your eyes on a roller coaster?"

Have you ever been searched by the cops?
This is actually pretty good.

The date is March 16th, 1999. I have just spent the entire day surrounded by "The Disfunctionals" as we buried my dear great-grandmother who passed away at the ripe old age of 90-something. The back seat of my gigantic blue Cadillac is loaded with 15,000 things I had hauled back from my dorm room over Spring break. The funeral was hilarious, the funeral procession would have brought NASCAR fans swarming, the burial was comical, and the reception included a three-generation game of TAG (you can't help but celebrate a woman who lived as long as she did). So, while it was a sad day for our family, we made the best of it.

Late that night, my boyfriend and his mother got into an arguement and he left the house. I, of course, went to get him and bring him back. I'm driving around in my Caddy wearing a giant sweater that is actually longer than the dress I have on underneith it. I picked my boyfriend up on main street and noticed our local cop was coming down the street. (Let me point out here that this is a town of a couple hundred where everyone knows everyone!)

Knowing my boyfriend needed some time to cool off, we drive out of town. Officer "Fuckhead" follows us. It is very difficult to have a conversation with someone when you are nervously trying to assure that you do not violate any traffic violations with a cop directly behind you. Five miles down the road, I decide to turn around and go back to town. When I turned around, Officer "FH" had traveled far enough down the road that I could no longer see his lights. I headed back into town at exactly the speed limit. To my shock, looking in the rearview mirror, I realize that Officer "FH" has turned around and has caught back up to us. (Speed much?)

More than a little spooked (it's the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere) I slowly drive around town, hoping that Officer "FH" will go away long enough for the two of us to talk. I did not get so lucky. After Officer "FH" has followed us for several blocks, I decide we need to find a well lit place to park the car so he doesn't think we're "fooling around in the back seat" or something. I parked the car in front of a friend's house and we procede to converse.

Officer "FH" circles the block several times. I must tell you this is very distracting when you are trying to calm someone down and convince them to return to their house. I finally came to the conclusion that Officer "FH" must think something strange is going on. To ease the mind of Officer "FH" I decide to go park in front of the other local cop's home. Certainly if I'm parked in front of a police officer's home there will be no doubt that we're not up to anything "fishy".

No dice. Officer "FH" pulls up behind my parked car with his bright headlight shining in my back window (no flashing lights, no siren) and walks up to my window. More than slightly peeved, I barely cracked the window & said hello. He addressed me by my name (okay, so there goes my defending him by saying he wasn't sure who I was) and demanded to see my license and registration.

I promptly asked him what seemed to be the problem.
He informed me that he asked for my license and registration.
I asked why he was pulling me over.
He said he wasn't pulling me over (clearly, the car was already parked).
I then asked him, "Well, then why do you need a license and registration?"
This clearly made him irate (and a bit irrational) as he informed me that "I ASK THE QUESTIONS HERE!! Let me see you license and registration!"
I cussed and gave them to him.
Officer "FH" then asks me to step out of the vehicle which I did.

We go back to his cruiser where he procedes to berate me with a series of 20 questions. "What are you doing? Where have you been? Why are you doing it? Where are you staying? blah blah blah."
I interrupt and say "Why have you been following us for the past hour and a half?"
He gets all defensive. He does the whole "follow my pen" sobriety test.
I continue to ask him why he is bothering us.
He skirts around the question.
I demand an answer for why he is harassing us.
He again yells "I ASK THE QUESTIONS HERE!!!" and procedes to run my plates through dispatch (I later learned he did this over a private airwave as he knew my mother had a police scanner). The minute he pushes his "talk" button, I clearly state "You crooked son of a bitch!" Of course, it was no surprise that my plates came back clean as a whistle.

Let me point out here that I grew up with this man's sons. Literally, I was probably at his house as much as I was my own. And the whole town knew that his son was the BIGGEST drug dealer in town!! So I was more than a little shocked when he had the nerve to ask if he could search my car!! "Excuse me?" He asked again! I'm practically laughing at this point.

I really wanted to ask him if his son had been in my car lately, but instead I said (and I quote), "If you really want to search through the two tons of shit I've brought home from college, you just get your happy ass out there and do it! But let me out of this fucking car!"

He agreed. I stood at the trunk of my car and my boyfriend stood at the hood of the car, while Officer "FH" procedes to try and search the back seat of my two door Caddy.

Finally fed up with this whole matter, I decided to take action. I reached into my coat pocket and retrieved my cell phone. It's about 2 am... this is so NOT going to be pretty!

I begin typing in numbers
... 3-2-1 ...
(Officer "FH" looks out back window and sees me with phone!)
... 5-5-5 ...
(Officer "FH" bangs his head on the roof of my car in a desperate hurry to get out of my vehicle!)
... 4-3-7-2 ...
(Officer "FH" is standing in front of me returning my license and registration!)
... My finger poised on "SEND" he asks one last question, "How old are you?"
(Think back now, had my license, has known me for the past 6 years, and his daughter-in-law is practically my sister only 2 weeks younger than me!)
I rolled off a good old military-style answer, complete with "Sir" and a crappy sallute to honor his 3 military children who aren't drug dealers!
Officer "FH" storms off to his cruiser and I pushed "SEND" to call MOM!!

Needless to say, Officer "FH" and my Mother do not get along in the first place. Even Cletus thinks the man is a worthless piece of crap. My Mother was not in the slightest bit amused by all of this, even less so considering she got woke up in the middle of the night after spending the day at a funeral.

The following morning the local Sheriff recieved a very heated explaination of why his Deputy was a major fuckhead and what legal actions she would take if he ever pulled something like this again with HER DAUGHTER! She further explained that should an officer in this county attempt to pull HER DAUGHTER over again, she had instructed her to call 9-1-1 and drive to the nearest police station.

Two days later, a State Patrol officer arrived at our home (per our request) to search my vehicle for any illegal substance that needed to be removed. Nothing was found and I am happy to announce that I never again had to deal with a police officer from that county again.

The moral of the story is:

"Crooked Cops should NOT fuck with MEAN-ASS Women and their Kids!"

Now see... that was bearable, if not slightly amusing. Stay tuned for more
"BORING-I'M-SICK-CRAP"
in the near future.
*ACHOO*

1 comment:

Ramblings from an Old Woman that lived in a shoe. said...

I really cannot be held responsible for my actions when child molesting, drug dealing, fucked up backwoods cops fuck with my daughters.END OF STORY. NOTHING MORE NEEDS TO BE SAID. I THINK THAT'S ME 2 COPS 0