Azucar azucar mama...
Oct. 12th, 2006 12:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xansIt is a beautiful, wonderful, gorgeous day out there. Sososososos v. nice. So why'm I here? Why am I not out basking in the sunlight, dressed as I am? (knee high socks, schoolgirl pleated skirt, purply-pink tube top, y'know, skank that I am) Well, I'm here to inform ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shiseiji that the parcel arrived Monday, I didn't find out 'til Tuesday, and didn't get to pick it up until today, Thursday. But zomg zomg. Sugar rush already. Aaaaand yeah. Love, much love. :D
Anyway, you know when you're talking about something, and your mouth just takes over and says something you didn't mean to say? And I don't mean, you suddenly offer a blunt opinion that upsets someone, but like, you mess up your words or have a case of spoonerisms. Happened the other day, Friday, I was at Grant's and somehow it came up that, slim as we both were, my wide hips were good at taking up a lot of the space. (I may not haveshiseiji's gigantic birthing hips, but they're wide enough, that's for sure) Well, Grant went to say, "Wide hips" but it came out "Wild hips." Funny enough on its own...
It just gave me this hilarious visual of a bunch of bare hips grazing on a plain. They'd just be plodding along in their herds, 'til someone came along to rustle some up or something... then there'd be panic, and these stampeding wild hips... it was a funny visual, anywho.
Yesterday I was all geared up not to see Grant, 'cause he'd sent a text saying he was tired and planned to sleep. But then, my cellphone was on its charger so I didn't get the next text saying he couldn't sleep, he was going into town, and did I want to come over for pizza later? Instead he found me in the library, and we wandered around for a wee bit, enjoying the lovely, lovely sunshine. Then we went up and passed the time for a while, until it was time to make the pizza.
It was kind of a gourmet style pizza. Aside from the necessary tomato paste and cheese, there was onions, salami, capsicum, olives, feta cheese, anchovies (I discovered they're not all that bad, but I wouldn't wanna overdo 'em), and these things, these other things that I can't remember what they're called, but they're supposed to be good and I think I plain did not notice them. But it was a v. nice pizza that we ate while watching the news.
We actually watched a lot of tv, spent the most amount of time in the living room we ever have, watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force, the Simpsons, Scrubs, SVU, and Green Wing. All in all, good stuff.
Oh, oh, it was so funny; Grant and I stopped by where I'm staying so I could grab a couple things (some CDs for him to listen to, I meant to grab my phone off the charger and forgot, and my jacket so I wouldn't freeze when I walked home), and as I was heading back downstairs Glenn came out from the back room.
I smiled--no, I think I rather smirked--at him, so he asked, rather paranoid, "What?" and I laughed.
"What have you been up to?" he demanded.
"It's not what I've been up to," I replied, "but more what I'm about to get up to!"
He swore and I walked out under a tirade of, "Oi, no one said you could leave. Where are you going? Get back in here!"
(Don't worry, he wasn't serious, just jealous at the mere suggestion someone's getting laid when he is not)
Besides, that was more than enough revenge for the stunt he pulled yesterday morning. Back on Tuesday, I very generously cooked him dinner (what the hey, I'll play domestic goddess when I've got so much bourbon from him) and we also watched the DVD of Wes Craven's "Cursed" with Christina Ricci and Josh Jackson. While utterly predictable, it was fucking hilarious. Anyway, afer the movie I pleaded sleepiness and went to bed. I didn't have a hangover yesterday or anything--I've only had one or two ever thanks to Absolut Vodka--I just had a hard time waking up, and I was in a sort of not-ready-to-face-the-world-grunt-my-answers mood. I'd be better once I'd had my coffee and breakfast.
Well he and the Other Grant apparently got up when the birds did or some shit 'cause they were already up when I stumbled down. I was making my coffee when they walked into the kitchen. "You look like shit!" Glenn told me not unkindly. "I'm not awake yet," I responded. He walked past me, and the next thing I know, I'm flinching back 'cause I looked over in time to see him banging to pots right next to my head.
"Fuck!" was all I could say while they laughed at me. Bastards.
Oh, rather amusing email from my cousin John. He's a cop in Colorado, and I get the occasional narrative from him about some interesting event or another. he's a cool cousin.
Subject: Stroker Ace
Date: Wed, 11 Oct 2006 01:34:49 -0600
Kudos to you if you know where I got the title to this bulletin (Hint: God bless Charlie Daniels).
Anyway, so there I was....
It was a dark and stormy night...no shit, it really was. I wasn't just borrowing from Snoopy there. The weatherman had predicted a freaking blizzard, but what we got instead was that bone-chilling cold cold cold rain. Most cops find ways to avoid work on nights like that, but I didn't spend $200 on a gortex jacket for nothing, doggonit! They issued me a leather jacket, which is sweet, but not too good when it's wet. It is much warmer on below zero nights, though.
So, I was TRYING to find bad guys, drunks, crackheads, tweakers, hookers, or whatever flavor of ne'erdowell I could muster up. Unfortunately for me, ne'erdowells aren't out doing wrong on nights like that. I couldn't come up with anything, and I was trying hard.
Jolly ho! Another officer and I got dispatched to assist our city's paramedic service who were fighting with a mental patient in the back of the meatwagon -- finally, I got to drive like the ace!
Lights and sirens a' blarin', we jetted across town over wet roads, busting red lights (SOOOO carefully), and having a grand ol' time.
It finally dawned on me that I was no longer a rookie (haven't been for some time now, but this was my comeuppance). I realized that I was driving code 3 (lights and sirens) going about 100 miles per hour in less-than-stellar weather conditions, and I was sipping from a piping hot cup of coffee while taking the car sideways through turns.
What fun! Can you believe they pay me for that??? If they only knew how fun it was, they'd cut my pay.
Anyway, we got there and Space Case quieted down. I didn't even get to do any whuppin'. She has been tased before, and it's mere presence turns her into a passive schoolchild, not the knife-wielding psychopath she normally is. Well, that and I had the little red dot pointed at her chest :)
So, that was a let down. I bragged a little about driving like that and not spilling a drop of coffee. Then I got back in the cruiser and found all the spilled coffee. Shit.
I have this tool called a cheat sheet. It's a little spiral bound dealy-bobber that makes it easy to look up criminal and traffic statutes for tickets and reports...without having to read all about them in the statute book. It's great for those frequent occasions when you know what charge you're hammering someone with, and don't need to read the statute, you just want to know what the number is.
Anyway, let's just say my cheat sheet would taste good with creamer about now. Sugar if you prefer, but I'm a froo-froo creamer man.
So, I drove back to the substation to clean up the coffee spill, and the other cop -- who had also spilled his, followed. Just as I was finishing up, the same guy and I (each in our own cruisers) got dispatched to find a crazy guy "running in and out of traffic, laying in the middle of the road."
Sweet. No lights and sirens this time, but we drove too fast, anyway. So, as we're pulling into the area where Crazy Dude was supposed to be, I could see the paramedics' red and blue lights. They almost always arrive before we do. They had parked the ambulance across all the southbound lanes of traffic, effectively shutting down the road. As we continued to approach, I saw some people standing on the median looking at something. I looked where they were looking, and saw a pile of people in the middle of the road. Arms and legs were flailing everywhere, and somehow I managed to see the distinct white shirt our paramedics wear on at least two people.
Both of us stopped in the middle of the road and jumped on the pig pile (that's why they call it a pig pile). We got him restrained and strapped down to the gurney without having to do any serious whuppin'. When it's four against one (two cops, two paras), it makes it much easier to restrain versus whup.
It turns out he had OD'd on crack...well, he OD'd on something, but I found a crack pipe in his pocket....so, yeah, it was crack. One of the witnesses said Crazy Dude had ran full speed into a brick building before the paras got there.
At the ER, the fight was on again. I think there were three security guards, two cops, and two paramedics all fighting him in the hospital. In the ER, his neighbor was an elderly man, whom I think had just suffered from a heart attack. The elderly gentleman's family was all there -- "regular" middle class folks who had never seen anything like a crackhead OD'ing and fighting with the people who wanted to help him. They were all staring with that astonished -- no, SHOCKED -- look on their faces.
I looked over at them and said, "Say no to drugs," as I smiled and pulled out my taser :)
JOHN P. McFARLAND
NRA Life Member
NRA Certified Instructor (Pistol, Rifle, Reloading)
NRA Range Safety Officer
Pike's Peak Firearms Coalition PAC Steering Committee Member
Republican House District 17D Division Leader
"The Constitution shall never be construed...to prevent the people of the United States who are peaceable citizens from keeping their own arms."
-Samuel Adams, 1786
"LOCH SLOY!!!" -MacFarlane clan battle cry
Fin.
shiseiji that the parcel arrived Monday, I didn't find out 'til Tuesday, and didn't get to pick it up until today, Thursday. But zomg zomg. Sugar rush already. Aaaaand yeah. Love, much love. :DAnyway, you know when you're talking about something, and your mouth just takes over and says something you didn't mean to say? And I don't mean, you suddenly offer a blunt opinion that upsets someone, but like, you mess up your words or have a case of spoonerisms. Happened the other day, Friday, I was at Grant's and somehow it came up that, slim as we both were, my wide hips were good at taking up a lot of the space. (I may not have
shiseiji's gigantic birthing hips, but they're wide enough, that's for sure) Well, Grant went to say, "Wide hips" but it came out "Wild hips." Funny enough on its own...It just gave me this hilarious visual of a bunch of bare hips grazing on a plain. They'd just be plodding along in their herds, 'til someone came along to rustle some up or something... then there'd be panic, and these stampeding wild hips... it was a funny visual, anywho.
Yesterday I was all geared up not to see Grant, 'cause he'd sent a text saying he was tired and planned to sleep. But then, my cellphone was on its charger so I didn't get the next text saying he couldn't sleep, he was going into town, and did I want to come over for pizza later? Instead he found me in the library, and we wandered around for a wee bit, enjoying the lovely, lovely sunshine. Then we went up and passed the time for a while, until it was time to make the pizza.
It was kind of a gourmet style pizza. Aside from the necessary tomato paste and cheese, there was onions, salami, capsicum, olives, feta cheese, anchovies (I discovered they're not all that bad, but I wouldn't wanna overdo 'em), and these things, these other things that I can't remember what they're called, but they're supposed to be good and I think I plain did not notice them. But it was a v. nice pizza that we ate while watching the news.
We actually watched a lot of tv, spent the most amount of time in the living room we ever have, watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force, the Simpsons, Scrubs, SVU, and Green Wing. All in all, good stuff.
Oh, oh, it was so funny; Grant and I stopped by where I'm staying so I could grab a couple things (some CDs for him to listen to, I meant to grab my phone off the charger and forgot, and my jacket so I wouldn't freeze when I walked home), and as I was heading back downstairs Glenn came out from the back room.
I smiled--no, I think I rather smirked--at him, so he asked, rather paranoid, "What?" and I laughed.
"What have you been up to?" he demanded.
"It's not what I've been up to," I replied, "but more what I'm about to get up to!"
He swore and I walked out under a tirade of, "Oi, no one said you could leave. Where are you going? Get back in here!"
(Don't worry, he wasn't serious, just jealous at the mere suggestion someone's getting laid when he is not)
Besides, that was more than enough revenge for the stunt he pulled yesterday morning. Back on Tuesday, I very generously cooked him dinner (what the hey, I'll play domestic goddess when I've got so much bourbon from him) and we also watched the DVD of Wes Craven's "Cursed" with Christina Ricci and Josh Jackson. While utterly predictable, it was fucking hilarious. Anyway, afer the movie I pleaded sleepiness and went to bed. I didn't have a hangover yesterday or anything--I've only had one or two ever thanks to Absolut Vodka--I just had a hard time waking up, and I was in a sort of not-ready-to-face-the-world-grunt-my-answers mood. I'd be better once I'd had my coffee and breakfast.
Well he and the Other Grant apparently got up when the birds did or some shit 'cause they were already up when I stumbled down. I was making my coffee when they walked into the kitchen. "You look like shit!" Glenn told me not unkindly. "I'm not awake yet," I responded. He walked past me, and the next thing I know, I'm flinching back 'cause I looked over in time to see him banging to pots right next to my head.
"Fuck!" was all I could say while they laughed at me. Bastards.
Oh, rather amusing email from my cousin John. He's a cop in Colorado, and I get the occasional narrative from him about some interesting event or another. he's a cool cousin.
Subject: Stroker Ace
Date: Wed, 11 Oct 2006 01:34:49 -0600
Kudos to you if you know where I got the title to this bulletin (Hint: God bless Charlie Daniels).
Anyway, so there I was....
It was a dark and stormy night...no shit, it really was. I wasn't just borrowing from Snoopy there. The weatherman had predicted a freaking blizzard, but what we got instead was that bone-chilling cold cold cold rain. Most cops find ways to avoid work on nights like that, but I didn't spend $200 on a gortex jacket for nothing, doggonit! They issued me a leather jacket, which is sweet, but not too good when it's wet. It is much warmer on below zero nights, though.
So, I was TRYING to find bad guys, drunks, crackheads, tweakers, hookers, or whatever flavor of ne'erdowell I could muster up. Unfortunately for me, ne'erdowells aren't out doing wrong on nights like that. I couldn't come up with anything, and I was trying hard.
Jolly ho! Another officer and I got dispatched to assist our city's paramedic service who were fighting with a mental patient in the back of the meatwagon -- finally, I got to drive like the ace!
Lights and sirens a' blarin', we jetted across town over wet roads, busting red lights (SOOOO carefully), and having a grand ol' time.
It finally dawned on me that I was no longer a rookie (haven't been for some time now, but this was my comeuppance). I realized that I was driving code 3 (lights and sirens) going about 100 miles per hour in less-than-stellar weather conditions, and I was sipping from a piping hot cup of coffee while taking the car sideways through turns.
What fun! Can you believe they pay me for that??? If they only knew how fun it was, they'd cut my pay.
Anyway, we got there and Space Case quieted down. I didn't even get to do any whuppin'. She has been tased before, and it's mere presence turns her into a passive schoolchild, not the knife-wielding psychopath she normally is. Well, that and I had the little red dot pointed at her chest :)
So, that was a let down. I bragged a little about driving like that and not spilling a drop of coffee. Then I got back in the cruiser and found all the spilled coffee. Shit.
I have this tool called a cheat sheet. It's a little spiral bound dealy-bobber that makes it easy to look up criminal and traffic statutes for tickets and reports...without having to read all about them in the statute book. It's great for those frequent occasions when you know what charge you're hammering someone with, and don't need to read the statute, you just want to know what the number is.
Anyway, let's just say my cheat sheet would taste good with creamer about now. Sugar if you prefer, but I'm a froo-froo creamer man.
So, I drove back to the substation to clean up the coffee spill, and the other cop -- who had also spilled his, followed. Just as I was finishing up, the same guy and I (each in our own cruisers) got dispatched to find a crazy guy "running in and out of traffic, laying in the middle of the road."
Sweet. No lights and sirens this time, but we drove too fast, anyway. So, as we're pulling into the area where Crazy Dude was supposed to be, I could see the paramedics' red and blue lights. They almost always arrive before we do. They had parked the ambulance across all the southbound lanes of traffic, effectively shutting down the road. As we continued to approach, I saw some people standing on the median looking at something. I looked where they were looking, and saw a pile of people in the middle of the road. Arms and legs were flailing everywhere, and somehow I managed to see the distinct white shirt our paramedics wear on at least two people.
Both of us stopped in the middle of the road and jumped on the pig pile (that's why they call it a pig pile). We got him restrained and strapped down to the gurney without having to do any serious whuppin'. When it's four against one (two cops, two paras), it makes it much easier to restrain versus whup.
It turns out he had OD'd on crack...well, he OD'd on something, but I found a crack pipe in his pocket....so, yeah, it was crack. One of the witnesses said Crazy Dude had ran full speed into a brick building before the paras got there.
At the ER, the fight was on again. I think there were three security guards, two cops, and two paramedics all fighting him in the hospital. In the ER, his neighbor was an elderly man, whom I think had just suffered from a heart attack. The elderly gentleman's family was all there -- "regular" middle class folks who had never seen anything like a crackhead OD'ing and fighting with the people who wanted to help him. They were all staring with that astonished -- no, SHOCKED -- look on their faces.
I looked over at them and said, "Say no to drugs," as I smiled and pulled out my taser :)
JOHN P. McFARLAND
NRA Life Member
NRA Certified Instructor (Pistol, Rifle, Reloading)
NRA Range Safety Officer
Pike's Peak Firearms Coalition PAC Steering Committee Member
Republican House District 17D Division Leader
"The Constitution shall never be construed...to prevent the people of the United States who are peaceable citizens from keeping their own arms."
-Samuel Adams, 1786
"LOCH SLOY!!!" -MacFarlane clan battle cry
Fin.
