Oh The Douchebaggery

Generally speaking, I am freaked out by the police.

Even when I am being nothing more than an exemplar citizen, I am frightened.

Nothing makes me more nervous than seeing the MAN in my rear-view.
I drive a little slower.
I chuck anything and everything I am smoking.
I am the picture of propriety.

I have had quite a few issues with the police...because I break laws...and often.

I don't endanger other people.
I am not at all reckless.
I reserved that right for my twenties.
That's what your twenties are for, right?

No. I break stupid laws.

I jay-walk. I throw the occasional cigarette butt out the window.
I commit man-slaughter.

Who doesn't?

So, I am pleased when I come across a 5-0 who has a sense of humor.

For some reason, all the cops on the east side hang out at the take-and-bake pizza place I often walk by.

They recognize me and my dog.

And for a gag that never gets old...

I got one of those hair-dryer looking things that measures one's speed pointed at me the other day... followed by, "You are walking way too fast...Slow down, miss".

I love you Mr. Cop Guy.

Remember that sense of humor the next time you pull me over and I claim I am on "cold meds".