Caterwauling

My pastor’s wife came to chat with me before services started. It’s eerie how much information this woman holds in her head about all of us, me included. The questions she thinks to ask, the things she follows up on from several weeks/months ago, the armchair psychology she can perform … it’s astounding that either she’s that brilliant or I’m that memorable. Or, both.

Anyway, she told me I looked great today. I just said thanks and she guessed pretty much every reason why. It was nice to have someone share in my little stack of joys. Hey, it’s a little stack, but it’s still a stack nonetheless!

Speaking of all things (not) joyous, I just paid my latest traffic ticket online. And not only did the form remember my information from the last three tickets in the past six months, but it also ends with this nice, friendly message:

We look forward to serving you again.

Yes, I’m aware you are thrilled at the idea of siphoning even more cash from my coffers that could have gone toward charity or, OK, alcohol, but still.

You know how you can serve me? By eating me. Jesus H. I don’t need an invitation to come back soon, mmkay? Am already a frequent guest, can’t'cha tell?

The more I think about my speeding ticket, the more annoyed I am.

The cop looked at my license and tsk-tsked at me. “You should know better,” he said.

I looked at him blankly. What, that I had five tickets on file for speeding already?

He repeated, “You live in D.C. You should KNOW better than to speed. You KNOW we’re out here trying to keep our streets safe.”

Although I was in a foul enough mood to say it, I did NOT articulate, “You should KNOW not to be a fucking douchebag when your dick is within punching distance.”

Douchebag. He should know better than to walk in front of a moving vehicle that’s going 50 mph and to patronize the driver. I assure you, if I could have found a way to “accidentally” run over his foot, I would have!

In ever-so-surprising news, our heroine got pulled over for speeding on her way to work. Shocker. It was 9:25 a.m. and I had to be in for 9:30. Not that the cops cared. Assholes.

I am getting really fucking tired of getting pulled over for simply stupid speeds — doing 49 in a 35? Seriously?

I wasn’t even paying attention, truth be told. I was busy looking at all the gas stations’ prices and trying to figure out where I could fill up my tank for the cheapest amount. ($4.23 a gallon is unacceptable. Sorry. I was looking for something more along the lines of $4.15 or, I dunno, FREE.) And then I saw this bright yellow vest because the fucking cops around here WALK INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING HIGHWAY.

So, since I almost killed him — and, truth be told, I almost caused an accident several blocks earlier because I decided to take a different route to work (go figure) after I had nearly passed the exit — I was compliant. Bitter, but compliant.

Apparently Little Miss has a number of speeding tickets on file. Sure, I’ve paid ‘em all, but still, apparently I am a reckless driver. So, he “only” charged me $80.

So, see, I imagine most people get a ticket and then behave for the remainder of their drive. Oh, no. Not me. I was good and pissed off and had to figure out a way out of the fucking ditch that they made me pull into.

So, of course, I did that at about 40 mph. Then I pealed out into traffic as fast as I could, to beat the bus that was barreling my way. Then I tailgated someone, passed someone else without using turn signals and flat out floored it.

I do feel bad that I was tailgating one of my friends into our parking lot at work. Hey, she got a new car — I didn’t recognize her!

So, basically, I own my $80 in moving violations today.

I was wondering with one of my friends why I got pulled over in the middle of the month, when it’s usually the end of the month that all the cops are out in full force. She suggested that my cop is on vacation at the end of the month and had to meet his quota early.

Seriously, cops. Go fight some real crimes and leave me and my gas pedal out of it. Eighty bucks is a tank and a half of gas that I can’t buy, so thanks a lot!

Dear Montgomery County Safe Speed,

Fuck you. Did you hear me? Fuck you. I don’t think you got that, so let me say it more clearly: FUCK YOU!!!!

Screw you and your cameras. I’m spreading my knees and you fuckers can eat me. And I’m not even going to wash mah coochie for a week before you do it.

Love,

Goddess

ARGH.

I had to go to Baltimore three times in October. I got a speeding ticket on two of those three days.

But GENIUS here, well, didn’t realize that she received two separate tickets. Why? Because I was clocked in the SAME PLACE at the SAME SPEED. The third day, I took a different route, so that’s why I didn’t get three tickets.

But it gets better. I didn’t have the money to pay for the (what I thought was one) ticket, so I got slapped with a late fee. Guess what? I GOT SLAPPED WITH TWO LATE FEES.

I seriously hate the state of Maryland with the fire of a thousand suns right now.

Happy fucking Christmas to you, too, bastards.

The D.C. metro region had its first snowfall yesterday. *hairball*

Just two weeks ago, I was gazing out my office window and marveling at all the pretty colors of the leaves that were still on the trees. Yesterday? Those leaves had a layer of white powdery shit on them. Odd to see snow before the leaves have died off.

Anyway, it took two attempts to get to work. I cleaned off the cars, headed to the Interstate, and sat. I turned around at the first opportunity, parked it and did some work. Within a half-hour, I walked outside and the cars were even more covered in snow than they were the first time. *headslam*

I would like to extend a special middle finger or two to the state of Maryland for the drivers it chooses to license. It’s either “ride our breaks for 10 miles because something wet is coming out of the sky” or “I’m way more important than you; let me wipe you off the road and make the scaredy-cat drivers even MORE nervous.”

I’m somewhere in the middle, hence why I think THAT finger is appropriate to wave at everyone.

The other thing I hate about winter, outside of Maryland, is the fact that my house is cold. I took this place because the windows looked so sturdy. They ain’t. So I come home, go to my bedroom and get under my deliciously warm IKEA comforter that is supposed to be the warmest blanket you can buy there. Although I need a new duvet cover and sheets to match, I’m currently in 400-TC so my bed is comfy-cozy.

Anyway, the problem is that I turn on the TV and promptly fall asleep the second I get warm. Which means I’ve missed all kinds of good TV this week. Then again, the programs that knocked me out the soonest have been “October Road” and “Private Practice.” So, is it the bed that lulls me into a coma, or shitty shows?

Either way, those are two shows whose writers can STAY on strike!!!