Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Screen Tests & Rude People

After reading Fat Doc's blog yesterday, I just had to add my "fat" story too because, well, people are stupid all over!

I am a former police officer. One night me and 4 other officers chased this one really "weirded out" lady around a bush (it was a big bush) outside our local emergency room. I mean we were going round and round for what seemed like an hour or so and she would even dive through the durn bush - whatever she was smoking obviously was working because she was getting all scraped up and not even feeling it.

Well when we finally "caught" her (Read: she got worn out) and got her cuffed, she was placed in the back of my car, naturally. (Naturally because I was the only female on my shift - one of only two in the entire department, and if the sleeze-bag guys could get away with it they would stick we females with the female perps. No one, but NO ONE, wants to fight with a female.)

Now this woman had already called me everything but a child of God and had told me to go do things that would have been physically impossible. Stuff like that just doesn't bother me though she didn't know that. I guess after some time she decided none of the nastiness she was throwing my way was working. Just as we were driving out of the parking lot we had all parked in when we responded to the call, she yelled at the top of her little whiny screech-owl voice, " YOU FAT BITCH".

Since she was a "spitter", when she was put in the back seat of my patrol vehicle she was not buckled in. I mean who wants to lean across someone to buckle them in when they're trying to spit on you? So when I, without even thinking, slammed on my brakes... she got an instant "screen test".

A screen test, for the uninitiated, goes like this...there is a wire screen between the back seat and the front in most patrol vehicles. If someone is seated, unbuckled in the back and the driver hits the brakes for whatever reason, the unbuckled person in the back will fly forward hitting the screen in front of them, therefore called a Screen Test.

I didn't mean to do it, it just happened. All the other officers, knowing what a screen test was, one by one (the ones who had seen my brake lights) came on the radio and asked if everything was okay with "Charlie 7", thinking I had done the screen test intentionally. I responded, 10-4.

Later on they were all like; "What did she do, why'd you screen test her? Did she spit at you?" I looked them all square in the eye and said, "She. called. me. fat."

You know they never did aggravate me about my extra weight after that.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Hairy Palms & Choking the Chicken

When my baby boy was 13, he bought a doorknob set for his bedroom door. He was always a boy who would learn to do anything, usually by tearing it apart first. He knows his way around the tool cabinet. Just like his daddy.

We bought this older house back when my boy was 9. It didn’t matter to him then that the doorknob didn’t have a lock.

During this time I was a police officer. I was the only female on Charlie shift. So this afternoon, I go in and at the end of the shift we all go to the city yard to fill up our tanks for the next shift coming on. Generally we all stand around and shoot the shit while the tanks are filling then we’d stand around and the smokers would smoke and the chewers would spit before hitting the road again.

So all these guys and me, we’re standing around shooting the shit and telling war stories and I tell them how my 13 year old son had changed out his doorknob to his bedroom door all by himself. I mean I am proud of this kid. Then I see looks pass between the guys. Then one guy begins giggling, then another, then they’re all laughing and guffawing.

I am totally confused at this point and I ask, “What the hell is so funny about that?” Turtle (as we called him – long story) pipes up and says do you really not understand why he put a lock on his door? Still confused (and no I am not blonde) I say “maybe to keep me from rambling while he’s at school?” Then they all burst out laughing and slapping one another on the back.

Well shit, I guess I done got myself right smack into the middle of some secret, covert covenant of the MAN CLUB. “What are ya’ll talking about you asswipes”, I asked. My closest bud in the group, Travis, walks over to me and right in my faces says “Think about it…he is 13, and he wants to be in his room with the door locked.”

WTF???? You mean you think he…he is…does…..”that”?????? No, my son is just a baby. No way he’s in there wanking off behind that locked door. Uproarious laughter once again drowns out the sound of our vehicles engines.

I guess that’s when I was thankful for the dark, so they couldn’t make fun of all the many shades of red I KNOW I turned.

My baby…..the child I breastfed…the one I rocked to sleep for 4 years. My baby who would wait until we were asleep to come in and crawl very quietly into our bed to sleep. This sweet, sweet boy who still kisses his mama good-night as long as no one else is around, is choking the ole chicken behind locked doors. Well horseshit. My innocence has been lost forever. I hope he knows all about the hairy palms.

Friday, September 21, 2007

Dog Neutering and Self Esteem

Well hells bells. I thought I had seen it all. I thought there was nothing left on this earth that could shock me. I was just plain WRONG!!

Neuticles. Have any of you heard that word? When you say it, or read it, what does it make you think of? Do you see maybe the word "testicles' mixed up in there, or maybe you see "neuter".

Bob Barker has been preaching for what, 70 or 80 years to spay and neuter your pets? I bet he never in his 140 years imagine this shit…

Hey, I’ve never been a guy so maybe I shouldn’t judge, but hells bells…prosthetic balls for you dog!?!?!?!?! But...I mean doggy thinks I walk on water because I let him lick the ice cream dish when I'm finished.

I hope to the highest heavens my little Thomas never finds this website. My reputation with him would be tarnished forever.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Sex, Metabolic Syndrome & All My Own Teeth

I had a birthday last week. As I reflect back over my many years, thinking about all the occasions I have had to be a part of this grand world in the entirety of the scheme of things, it occurs to me I have not peed my pants in about 2 months now. Not since the last time I watched Jackass. Maybe I should just stop watching that show. Middle aged white collar females should probably be more refined anyway. Snort.

I guess I do okay for someone in their late 40’s. Don’t get me wrong now, not nearly as good as some of you I read every day (you know who you are), but I guess I do ok. About the only major health problem I have is Metabolic Syndrome…oh wait…that pretty much means that cardiovascular wise, I’m screwed at an early age hunh. Then there is that silly little problem I have with MANIC DEPRESSION. Oh and as far as sexual activity, I’m still not getting any. Oh, we can't leave out the PCOS and the hirsutism.

Other than those minor problems, I do pretty well for a middle aged chocoholic who has been rode hard and hung up wet.

I’ve got a dog that loves me, grown children who aren’t doing time or on drugs, parents who live just far enough away to make it inconvenient to visit too much, my wonderful BLOGS I read every day, an amazing ability to laugh at completely inappropriate times AND situations, and all my own teeth.

What more could I ask for?


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