Posts Tagged ‘police’

Is there anything on earth better than a big meal? Maybe seeing an enemy starve us equal. Certainly nothing beats it.

After a big meal today though, I had my confidence shattered. Police officers are protecting our freedom at the entrance to the train I ride with random bag checks. They’re on the clock ensuring nobody blows up the train because if somebody did they’d let all of New Jersey down.

Sometimes I do have a bag, but today all I had was my charming personality and a belly full of food. Apparently, cleaning my plate at dinner was enough to cause stomach expansion to a level in which my stomach actually looked like I was smuggling something.

Aren’t police officers supposed to have good eyesight? Or am I confusing them with baseball umpires? Which is the one we’re supposed to spit on in an argument? I guess the answer depends on your race.

The lawman asked that I step over to have my bag checked. Not since my last physical when the final turn your head and cough moment has anyone asked to check any bag of mine. I agreed to the bag check only for the police officer to then question if I even had one. I didn’t so he let me pass.

I could feel bad about this. Instead I’m going to blame it on my four layers of baggy clothing. Between my oversized wrestling t-shirt, stretched out plaid business attire, gargantuan hoodie covered in dog fur and bearded lady facial remnants, and jacket–it’s no wonder the policeman didn’t ask me to remove the family from under my shirt.

I think he was embarrassed. If he wasn’t, I’m supposed to sue him for hurting my feelings.

Worst of all, as I was haunted by memories of being a fat kid, some mother snuck baby formula onto the train. Fat shaming me nearly cost America its innocence today all because I dress like a slob.

halo halo

(Okay, so maybe the cop wasn’t so crazy after all. He should have at least searched my giant head)

There are some jobs out there that when I see a girl in the uniform I go nuts. So nuts that I grab them then am asked to leave before the police are called.

1) Wawa Girls

Wawa is the 711 competitor in the northeast for those of you not familiar. It’s a lot better than 711. It has a deli with cute girls in hats with pony tails sticking out behind them. Adorable! I love girls that work at Wawa. I want to get a job there just so I can meet the girl I am going to marry.

The uniforms are black which I love on girls. I love that color on me too. I want to get one giant black shirt and have me and a couple of Wawa Girls get inside it and cuddle. They’ll make me a sandwich and smile at me and tell me to have a nice day. I’ll try to look at their name tag just on the off-chance that it’s something unique and I can find them on Facebook. There can’t be too many girls named Chelsea out there, right?

2) Police Women

If I’m driving and I notice that the cop with the radar gun is a female, not only do I speed, I open up a beer can and throw it out the window while changing lines without my turn signal. It’s my pickup line for the female cop. It hasn’t worked yet, but I’m still trying.

There are few dominant positions that women can have that I enjoy, a cop being one of them. It’s something about the uniform and the way it shapes their body. It’s almost as if they were drawn out of a comic book, perfectly proportioned. I don’t like being bound, but if it was a female cop’s handcuffs, I would do it even if I had to get dragged to the county line. I would do anything for a female cop. Except maybe obey the law, but that’s only so she’ll punish me.

3) Writing Ladies

I like a lady that considers herself a writer. It’s sexy. Even if she’s awful at it, the fact that she wants to be a big bad writer gets me all worked up. I just want to pinch their cute little cheeks as they try to be poetic.

The problem with female writers is that there is no look to them. Maybe if anything that proves how I am not shallow. Even if the girl is a big fat mess and is a writer I’ll at least talk to her and not make fun of her until later. I probably won’t date her or bother reading anything she’s written due to chocolate stains and her potentially excessive mention of ice cream, but I will respect her.

4) Bartending Lasses

Hot bartenders are the greatest. I have always wanted to do something filthy with a bartender. They’re the hardest girls to tame. The lion of the working class women.

One girl told me that she was a bartender, but then later told me that she was a waitress. I like waitresses who serve alcohol, but that’s like fucking a worker ant when the queen is right there. I want the top dog. I love the sass and the confidence of a female bartender. The way she can cheer me up and take getting her ass pinched. I also know they always date real men. UFC fighters and musical choreographers. Someday I’ll get a bartender to spit on me in a fun part of the body, I swear to it.

5) Barista Chicks

I don’t drink coffee and I really should because of my love for baristas. I really want to kiss one. Even if she has awful coffee breath, I want to kiss every cute barista that I ever come in contact with.

Baristas always seem so sweet and bubbly. It’s probably from all of the coffee that they drink and gets into their pores. I love bubbly girls. It’s like having a sexy puppy that I can do naughty things with. But not in a sick way. Baristas are usually dumb girls who think they are a lot smarter than they really are. They should be cheerleaders, but they’d rather pretend to be nerds. I love girls who work at Starbucks. I need to go there more often just for the eye candy behind the counter.

Looking back at it, I am attracted to women who serve me. That could explain my love for Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, and Spartacus.

Speeding Tickets

Posted: September 14, 2011 in September 2011
Tags: , ,

I’ve noticed that in a nearby town that I drive through, there are a lot of cops making sure people do not speed. One day I saw two on opposite sides of the road and another at the end of the street. They didn’t have a Frisbee and without one I see no need for men to form a triangular shape. I’m all for stopping teenagers from speeding, but this is excessive. I get too nervous when I see a police car, even when I know that I cleaned my trunk of all the blood. It’s one of them irrational fears that I have where my heart skips a beat and I hope that I don’t get caught doing something bad even when I know at heart I’m a Goody-Two-Shoes.

I was only once pulled over by one of the cops in this particular town. I’m not sure where the borders of the town extend, but I think the town consists of about two houses and half a gas station. A real shit town if you ask me whose best quality is that they have a park bench. When the police officer turned on his sirens and pulled me over he was quite rude. He was a young buck, eager to make a big arrest on a drug kingpin. He immediately asked me how much I had been drinking, which was none. It surprised him that somebody that was driving after midnight with a broken tail light couldn’t be drunk. He took his merry time, as police officers tend to do, and I didn’t get a ticket because I was courteous and frightened. The cop wore glasses and he’s the reason why I always pick on people who wear glasses. Similar to twins, I’m hoping that everyone that wears glasses can feel each other’s pain and that beating up a four-eyed child will inflict pain on this asshole cop.

The whole “fuck cops” ideology is kind of what I want to get into, but not so much. Anyone who I know that says they hate police is a drug addict, snob, or criminal. The police, for the most part, don’t want to fuck with you, despite what you think. If you’re in a parking lot in the middle of the night, they’re going to be suspicious. And they should be because you have tattoos and an ounce of weed in your pocket. You’re not the Dukes of Hazard and the police are not after you to ruin your life. Stop being paranoid and thinking you’re that important. You’re not. You’re a stupid grown child who should be beaten by the cops for real. Now get on Facebook and tell everyone how the police need better things to do then to ruin your night.

Onto other news. What I have noticed and you probably have to, it’s these small rich towns where police seem to be the biggest jerks. They are always out in high numbers trying to catch someone speeding. The reason for this is simple. There is not enough other crime going on in the town. The government needs a certain amount of money each month to pay for their mansions and if they aren’t getting the money from real criminals they do their best to get the common man speeding home to hug their children. It really is pretty stupid when you put it like that, the way it is.

I’ve proposed the problem and now it’s time for me to propose a solution to the problem. Create crime. If you don’t want to be worried about getting a speeding ticket, you have to go out and vandalize property. At the very least this will keep the cops occupied with other matters for the time being. It’s a short term solution. For a longer one you don’t create the problem, you bring it to your town. Start selling drugs in the neighborhoods. Buy a construction company and build cheap housing. Go to your local comedy club and demand that they have more black comedians. Do whatever you can think to make the people around you more dangerous. Pretty soon the police will no longer care if you drive 37 in a 25 zone. They’ll be too busy with more important things, like serving and protecting. Isn’t that a funny idea for a police officer to do.

I think police officers are great and my few dealings with them have almost always been positive. Show respect to the police and they will respect you. Like with any job, you will meet some that are complete jackasses. Don’t argue with them. If you were speeding apologize and don’t make up excuses. As long as you’re not in a rich town you might get off with a warning.

In fact, the more I think about this it’s the rich people we should blame. Them with their big fancy houses and cars made in this century. Their pay cable channels and waterproof pants. Fuck the rich. And fuck their children playing street hockey in the middle of the road. The street was made for driving, not playing. While we’re at it, lets up the speed limits everywhere by 5 MPH. It’s like that old 80s song, “It’s Difficult To Maintain a Speed of 25” or something to that nature. Rubber bands fly faster than cars in residential areas.

So don’t do any of what I suggested trying to raise crime in your area. You won’t get speeding tickets but you will probably die anyway of a stray bullet to the face. The only real way to stay out of a speeding ticket is not to be a douche bag. Very few things are that important that you have to put others lives at risk. Unless those other people are rich. Then go as fast as you please, please.