Saturday, October 6, 2007

Close Call

We went over to a friend's house for dinner tonight. Matt had to work late, so my girlfriend took pity on me and invited me and my girl posse over for some fun. We've been looking forward to it all afternoon, but in typical fashion of those-that-live-in-my-house, we had a hard time getting our act together. Clothes had to be changed multiple times, shoes debated, and when we thought we were in the free and clear, a massive poopie diaper slowed us down.

So, maybe I was hitting the gas pedal a bit too fast as I careened down a street that is NOTORIOUS for speed traps. Yes, there was a cop car driving the opposite direction, but I didn't think they would turn around and follow me. Especially after I hoofed it off the main street and tried to become obscure in a small side street. Didn't work. The cop found me. All of me, including my expired insurance card (damn!) and California drivers license (it's a personal thing--- I don't vote in Texas, I really don't feel like a Texan, and my drivers license picture is a remarkably decent one, and I loathe to give it up).

This cop was tough---- she had short hair, beefy sunglasses and a penetrating gaze. She meant business. So much so, that when she tried to say hello to my girls, she asked if Lucy would say hi to her and Lucy, with rounded eyes, slowly shook her head from side to side.

When she asked me if I knew why she had pulled me over, I looked her in the eye and said "Yes Officer, I'm really sorry- I was going too fast down Street XYZ." She said I was going 44, I was really going 41- but whatever. She asked where we were going. I told her we were late for dinner, and that a massive poopie diaper had slowed us down. She started to laugh, and then told me she was going to cut me a break. I couldn't believe it! I've got the touch with the lesbian police force. Work your talents, I always say.

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