21.11.05
I'm not sure, but I think it was somewhere after exiting the 170 to race to the 405 to cut out the 5 N on my way to the 118 West on my way up to the 101 (welcome to Southern Cal) to Santa Barbara on Friday night to see my girlfriend when I saw the motorcycle cop sitting off to the right of the street. He waved me down and I pulled over, knowing full well I was so so so so very busted. Rocket man had nothing on me at that very moment.So I pull over and The Man comes saddling up to my driver's window and just looked at me like I had just blown up a building or something. Total exasperated he flung his hands in the air and asked increduously, "Do you have ANY idea how fast you were going?"
Considering how fast I was going, I thought this was a silly question. People that travel well above the speed (OF LIGHT) usually know exactly how fast they are going. Gauging his level of exasperation, I mirrored it and (using the same hand gestures) asked him right back, "Do you have ANY idea how hot she is?"
Now, I have some pretty incredible cop kharma. I was pulled over something like 13 times before I actually ever received a speeding ticket from the time I was 16 to the time I was 19. I was a little hellion behind the wheel and am so surprised I'm alive today. April can attest to this. So can JB. They've seen me get out of four of those tickets alone. Not to mention that I actually received a speeding ticket once when I didn't even *have* a license, which I find incredible and a testament to how honked-up our civil departments were back before the Internet boom. People were still drinking Folgers instead of the cracked-out Starbucks Kenya blend which allowed them to work all night to figure out how to successfully link two LANs/WANs seamlessly. Come to think of it, I think Starbucks might be entirely responsible for the Internet/commerce boom of the late 90s. In the same breath though, I totally blame Instant Messenger and Strong Bad for the dot-com commerce bubble burst of the early 00's. Live and learn I suppose.
I digress.
So, there I was, in a stalemate with the police officer after that response to his silly question of my velocity. I almost asked, "I'm not sure. How fast were YOU going when you caught up to me?" I wish I had a poloroid of his face when I asked him if he had any idea how hot my girlfriend was, as if to say "You'd have been speeding too!"
He was totally taken aback. So, carpe diem! I seized the moment and said totally matter-of-factly: "Listen officer. I'm totally in love. And I'm totally going to continue to rocket up to the 805 to be with her tonight, so even if you do give me a ticket, which is totally in your power and right to do, just know that it's not going to stop me from speeding in any way, so in essence, this is a totally futile exercise in the beaurocracy of our day and adversity to all things in love."
I'm surprised I didn't bust out with an Air Supply song right then and there.
While admittedly half of that sappiness is totally true, it was a spin on the truth to try to woo myself out of a big, fat ticket. Technically, considering my speed, I should have gone to jail.
His response after about a minute of silence of us just staring at each other (me smiling this huge shit-eating grin at him and thinking "I'mmmm goingggg to jaaaaaiiilllll" and him probably thinking, "I hate my job so much right now") he said to me, "Yeah. I'm going to need to see your license and registration. And your insurance too."
Alas, the charm of my youth long since faded away, I did in fact receive a ticket. However, when he came back for me to sign the ticket (which I did so smiling and commenting to him that this speeding ticket only served as a further testament to my love and devotion if for no other reason to stick to my guns and annoy him) he said to me that he had reduced the speed to 45 in a 35 to save me money since (and I quote) I "was such a nice girl."
Considering I was doing almost 75, I think I win this one.
Damn Roscoe Blvd and its wide laned temptations. Viva la Revolution.
14.11.05
On the front page of CNN.com today:"Beset with an unpopular war and an American public increasingly less trusting, President Bush faces the lowest approval rating of his presidency, according to a national poll released Monday. He also received all-time lows in three other categories -- terrorism, trustworthiness and the Iraq war -- in the CNN/USA Today/Gallup poll. The White House has said it does not pay attention to poll numbers and the figures do not affect policy."
Um....i'm sorry, but poll numbers do not affect policy? My ASS they don't pay attention to polls. Don't polls reflect the mentality of the larger whole? And if we're unhappy, shouldn't our government adjust?
That's like saying "Here at Walmart, we'll sell faulty Gadgets and then not replace them because that's our policy."
Just because it's "your policy" doesn't make it "right." And WTF with that anyway? That's like saying outright: "We don't care what the American people say as that is not our job."
Again, the Bush administration making it loud and clear that they have their own agenda and we are not a part of it.
9.11.05
Well I'm full of complete shit.
Yahfuckingright I'm takin' the next six weeks off (as much as I need to.) No, what happens when I pause for one second and let things slow down (usually because someONE wants me to) -> my emotions get hijacked and the next thing I know I'm plunging head first into work, even after I just said I was taking time off. I'm so full of crap. Check out my next SF appearance after Thanksgiving. We're packin' Mighty in SF with OOAH and MIKE RELM.
One thing that's new is that Popstars and Rockstars is off until 2006. Our venue is going through some turmoil and so therefore, we're letting that one be. I guess I'm getting used to "letting things be" and not forcing delicate situations until they are pulpy masses of fleshy pulp that won't ever amount to anything. And if that means that things ended on bad notes, then fuck 'em. They should have never been notes to begin with, because there was never a song or melody to set them to. Just a random cry from a peacock - something multicolored and sometimes pretty but always dangerous and mean. Listening to the peacock last weekend in bed it rang true to my ears.
Spundae fucking rocked my earth, thanks for all of the supPort. So, Brent, beautiful Brent, shows up to Spundae and walks up to me and says, "I brought you a present." And I gasp and get all girly and say "OMG...what is it???" and he turns to let me see what's behind him and it's quite the present indeed. She was about 5'5" and gorgeous black hair and black eyes. Never caught her name, but that's quite a gift, and right up my alley. Unfortunately, I had a date that night and was busy falling in love. In love with DEEP HOUSE.
But what the fuck is up with France? Some kids riot and all of a sudden it's a state of national emergency? Are you fucking joking with me right now? Listen, the Laker's lose in the playoffs or the Golden State Warriors (wait, the Warriors have always sucked) okay, the...what other fucking team do we have up in the CA? The Sac Kings? Please. Anyway, the Lakers lose in the playoffs or whatever and downtown Los Angeles gets a couple of cars turned over and some streetlamps knocked out. Some kid fails a test at UCLA and Brentwood loots the Starbucks.
We put these fires out asap - what the fuck is going on over there, France? Huh?
You should be embarrassed.
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