fiddlesticks

this is the only "f" word I'm allowed to use for the next few days because I absolutely, positively, 100% used my quota of the f-bomber.

i got pulled over...again.

you cannot BEGIN to imagine my fury and tirade.

it went a little something like this (like this).

me: *heading home from quarry. following guy in front of me at respectable distance. see lights behind me. begin punching steering wheel*

cop pulls me over. continue punching steering wheel.

cop approaches car.

me: quick! if you go now you can still catch the guy in front of me.
cop: we got him, too.
me: fuck. FUCK! jesus christ. fuck, fuck, fuck (cont...)
him: *funny look on face. not sure whether to draw weapon*
me: just do it. pull your gun. if you don't shoot me, I will. *pointed to most recent ticket still tucked under visor* see this? I left this here as a warning. I was driving slow. I ride my bike to work...seriously...I can't win. just fucking shoot me.
cop: *still not enamored with my colorful language but beginning to crack a smile*
me: this isn't funny. do you think this is funny? FUCK!!!!!

...more of same for 12.67 more minutes...

amidst all the profanity, it comes out that I work at AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, of all places. to wit he replies, yet again...with more laughter.

my phone rings I'm all "do you mind if I get this?"

he's all, "no, go ahead"

I'm all, "um, can't talk now CAUSE I JUST GOT FUCKING PULLED OVER AGAIN" and resumed banging the head on the steering wheel.

then it was time to hand over my license, registration, etc...I was just like "dude. I don't have it."
he got all concerned looking. "you mean you DON'T HAVE a license?"...

"yeah, I lost it"
"this is not good"
"no. I didn't LOSE it lose it...I just...lost it"
"phew. that would've been bad"
"no shit."

so I give him the registration card (in the hub's name, of course) and he was like...well, what's your name...flipping it over to write my info down...

where he found it already written.

IN ANOTHER COP'S handwriting. again with his laughter. he was all "you REALLY do have bad luck, don't ya?"

long story short...the guy commiserated with me. told me to fight it. he'd reduce it. said I had bad luck, yada yada, tried to touch my boob (kidding)...

and get this...actually told me to buy a scrambler.

I was all "but OFFICER! isn't that illegal???"

he was like "yeah, but how will we know if we never catch ya?"

word.

I let loose another couple of fucks. dented my forehead a few more times on the steering wheel and vowed to see homeboy soon at the hearing.

I immediately called my climbing homie and was like...

just so you know, if you ever wanna climb with me, again...

you're gonna have to pick my ass up cause I'm never driving again as long as I live.

oh, fiddlesticks!