(no subject)

I cashed in some of my Visa points about two weeks ago for a $25 gift card.   

It arrived in last night's mail. 

It's for Bennigans. Or Steak & Ale. 

What the frell??

UNFAIR!!!   

During certain times of the month I, too, would confess to ANYTHING in order to get a bucket of KFC.  
Stupid bastard legal system.


 

Thursday

I enjoyed this video.  

I have also been asked to tell a certain story about my past life, so I will attempt to do so.  Don't blame me if you don't laugh, because maybe you should. 

I was going to night school to be a pharmacy technician when I learned I was pregnant.  This didn't interfere too much except for the heavy books I had to tote around.  I was driving my Subaru XT for that brief period of time when I still fit behind the wheel.  It was Lincoln's Birthday, and to give you an idea of how poorly my brain was working, I decided that it was a good day to go into town to pay for my car tags and pay a couple of parking tickets.  Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Everthing WAS closed. Why do you ask?

I pulled up to a light next to the courthouse looking for a place to park.  Two bike cops came out of the downtown station and rode past, and I smiled and waved as I always try to do .  The second cop looked at me, did a double take, and stopped his bike at my bumper.  I followed his eyes to my  inspection sticker - which was 3 months overdue.  *gulp*

He asked me to remain at the light and walked around to the back of my car to check my tags.  Which were 2 months overdue.  Umm. 

He got on the radio attached to his shoulder and read off the tag #, after which he was informed that I had parking tickets out my ASS and my drivers license had been suspended due to the unpaid fines. 

Eeep. 

So he came to the window.  He asked me to pull through the intersection and park at the curb just ahead.  He followed me on his bike and waited while I got my books out of my car.  Then I followed him on foot back to the station, head hanging and feeling sheepish.

I was fingerprinted and given my one phone call.  To my mother of course.  There was a tiny cell, about the size of two phone booths, with a bench along the back.  Bars all around it like you'd see in an episode of Andy Griffith, but not nearly so comfortable. I eyed that cell and timidly asked "Do I HAVE to go in there?"

The cop was very kind and said no, and I said "Good.  This is going to be one hell of a story to tell my baby when she's born!"