Running from the po po

Read John's post today about two helicopters colliding while covering a car chase and it reminded me of my own involvement in a police chase.

Back in high school, Leenie and I were egging the home of one her many targets. Holy guacamole, Leenie enjoyed retribution more than a fat kid loves candy.

All the sudden, high beam headlights shone us in mid-throw. I knew we were caught by TheTownThatFunForgot's finest and we were in capital T-rouble. Leenie jumps in the car and yells, "get in!" before I could even comprehend that her solution was to run from the police. They were right there at the end of the street and fastly approaching, lights flashing. I must have moved because the next thing I know, Leenie has killed her headlights, turned the interior lights off and pushed the rearview mirror down so their lights wouldn't reflect and is speeding as fast as her Mazda subcompact would go.

She drove like a maniac and the whole time I am saying "you've got to stop. My parents WILL KILL me!"

Leenie is screaming "Mother Fuckers! Leave me alone! Stop following me! MOTHER FUCKERS!

We are speeding through the winding streets of the neighborhood and manage to get a half block ahead of the police car when Leenie zooms into an open garage, kills the engine and yells at me to duck my head. We are hiding in a stranger's garage and scared beyond belief. And this is south Louisiana where you should assume that every house contains a gun toting citizen so I am thinking if the police don't find us, John Q. Public will either shoot us for trespassing or call the cops. Either the homeowners were asleep or out-of-town because we sat there for awhile until we thought we were okay to leave.

We drove to her house, all the while on the look out for patrol cars. We made it home and were so relieved and then amazed that it actually worked. I was horrified that Leenie took off from the police, in awe of her bravery but scared that her natural tendencies were gonna get us killed one day.

Every time you see a car chase on television, the commenters wonder why criminals speed away because they are always caught. Not true.

My advice: stick to neighborhood streets and let Leenie drive.

Douche of the day

I suppose Massengill and Summer's Eve declined to be sponsors on this summer's Big Brother so they brought Jesse from last year.
Something tells me that he holds this pose often.

Yes please

I never see these at the nursery and too impatient to wait.
Gonna get me a couple bubbas and steal it.

Something I saw yesterday

And I thought you would love to see.
Buzzards just brighten your day,

am I right?

Beware of free

My good friends gave me their old laptop computer last year and I took it home, wondering if I would even use it because I ditched my desktop years ago. Typically, there are too many other things/projects at home to distract me plus I have a computer at work. Wrong.
Fast forward to this week when my laptop's hard drive crashed. I fell for the c'mon that every drug dealer offers: First one's free. Now, I am jonesin' just like a meth addict. I can hardly watch TV without multi-tasking on the computer.
Sad and mad,
all at the same time,
I am,
SkitzoLeezra

Damned near impossible

Look, the only things on my TiVo are saved episodes of sewing shows. Must be a dearth of good television OR could be that I am watching waaay too much, just as soon as it arrives to my life partner/enabler TiVo.

Quote of the day

If you live in the ugliest house in the neighborhood,

you don't have to look at it.

--Frank Lloyd Wright

$2 fun

Forgot to tell ya 'bout the $2 fun I had with Mallys last year.

In November, I perused our local museum's "attic sale" and found some Audubon-type prints of hoary marmots. That just makes me want to say, in a wise guy voice, "I got your hoary marmot right heeeeeere."

Remembering that Mallys refers to her 2 kitty cats as "marmots" (because I listen to my friend's EVERY WORD), I purchased the limited edition and very large print of said critters for a whopping $2. Not satisfied that the marmot print was funny enough, I embellished the outside of the UPS packing box with an inaccurate content description, just to throw her off, to make sure that she wouldn't guess the box contained a limited edition hoary marmot print.

I knew amusement would ensue when I saw the UPS pick up guy laughing.

But I forgot (underestimated) Mallys. Days later, I received the following e-mail from her:

So I must admit to being just the tiniest bit disappointed when I thought the box contained a super-long, super-thick, multi-colored, pool-safe dildo with safety release. I thought to myself, "Not AGAIN," and envisioned the frustrating replay of trying to explain at The Dildo Store, once more, why I didn't need a third super-long, super-thick, multi-colored, pool safe dildo with safety release.

"Yes, yes," I'll opine to the petite little brunette behind the counter, "I realize that this is the 4th or 5th I've returned this month, but who can blame me for having practical friends who understand the appeal of such a timeless classic? I mean, sure, my The Dildo Store gift registry expired YEARS ago, but this dildo is such a must-have item, that you'd have to be a nimrod **NOT** to select it as your gift of choice in this, our holiday gift-giving season."

And then I'll have to endure the eye rolls, the interminable wait while she goes to get her manager, the disdainful glances my way while I'm overhearing snippets of the conversation, "Yes--the EXACT SAME MODEL: Acme's SL-ST-MC-PS Dildo Plus [unintelligible] TWO in August, ONE in September, THREE . . . ."

The officious manager will bring his register keys on the springy wrist band. He'll ask me why, exactly, I am returning this item. I'll explain that I already have a few of the exact same item, and while--granted--a practical item, I really don't have appropriate storage space in the dildo cabinet, and there's really only so many (do the math) a girl can use at one time, and it's not the sort of thing that one feels comfortable re-gifting, even in an unopened package, I don't even have a pool, so it's basically a wasted feature if I already have two at my disposal, yadda yadda yadda.

He'll angrily type in the key code for returns. He'll twist the key in the register. With each new movement or process, he'll glare my way. I'll fill out the return authorization forms in triplicate. I'll sign here, initial there. And then he'll reluctantly hand me a The Dildo Store gift certificate (no cash refunds: store credit only).

So imagine my delight when out of the dildo box popped a hoary marmot!

Now THAT'S something I could use more of. I was just saying to myself, "Enough with the super-sized pool-safe dildos already. When am I going to get me one of those hoary marmots I've been dreaming about?"

And there--SkitzoLeezra--thanks to your attentive eye for detail and your impeccable timing, a hoary marmot was waiting in my backyard, ready to be taken into my home and displayed for all my friends to see!

I haven't had time to fully inspect the hoary marmot, given my hasty trip home between uptown meeting and downtown late arrival to work--but the hoary marmot is sitting on the end table, waiting for my return from statistics class tonight. I'm sure the cats are giving the hoary marmot a good sniffing while I'm gone. But you know what I always say: "If you can't sniff a hoary marmot, what can you sniff?"

So Leezra, thank you for the delightful giggle--on all fronts. It's been a welcomed little pick-me-up in the crap sandwich of a week that began with an Atlanta wedding and will end with a day at work with the Boss.

A hoary marmot. Who woulda thunk such a thing existed, ready for the framing?

Here's hoping you find your own version of a hoary marmot today!

Mallys

Quote of the day

Memory is a myth-making machine.

--Shug Johnson