Evidence 101

EVIDENCE 101...Wherever you go, there you are...







Tuesday, September 24, 2013

DUSTiny

Do you ever feel like you gather dust?

Sometimes I think I have a different purpose in life than the one I am serving now. Other days, I feel I am right where I need to be.

Do you ever feel that way?

I like to help people. I want to help people.

I guess I am where I need to be right now.

My third book is going to be out soon. It's going to be at a better price, both a bargain on Kindle and in paperback. It's different. It might be somewhat familiar.

May my inspiration leave you with this...create a positive destiny...don't steer toward DUSTiny.

Just sayin'.

Dust yourself off once in awhile.

Dare. To. Be. You.

I dare you.




Monday, September 23, 2013

Respond To This

On Facebook, I threw out the question about response times of first responders. It was an interesting mix. Let me throw this out to the audience...

What is expected, reasonable? What are you willing to sacrifice? How can we improve it?

IN Wyoming, I was lucky. 10 hut 10 hurry. The Chief had our response time for Code 3 emergencies down to an average of 3-5 minutes. And that is still if we had to go clear across town. The city is widespread and vast, however, we had 4 lane thoroughfares in some places, Outer Drive, and two lane one ways from one end to the other. And that was including traffic.

The roads were in great condition most often and if not, they were repaired very quickly.

We did it. Without killing small puppies. Were there ever crashes? Rarely in an emergency and if so, it was most often the fault of a citizen. When we piled up cars, it was usually on routine patrol because of various reasons, but not code runs. You have to understand our city responded to over 700,000 calls a year with 7-12 on at a time and that was if they all showed up. Sometimes we ran short when officers were on vacation, training, or sick. When I started in the 90s, our staff minimum including the sergeant was 6. The teams were comprised of 7 officers. We had two sergeants per shift. They eventually cut back to one sergeant per team and in 2012, went back to a two sergeant team with 12 officers. When I left in 2012, our officer minimum staffing was 7, not including the sergeant. Our minimum staffing requirements could not include special response teams such as PORT, TRAFFIC, K-9 units, or the swing shift when it was operating.

I was shocked when I came out east and found in a densely populated and less isolated state, response times are a lot longer. In fact, in the small town I live in we have 5 marshals, 2 deputies, and two state troopers. I was told I would be lucky if the response was 20 minutes. They laughed. I didn't. I didn't think it was acceptable. I can't fathom why in the world it would take that long and why in the world the town thinks it is OK to live with that. As I see it, they aren't allocated their officers in order to meet a schedule that can accommodate the citizens calls. More than the shock and awe of it, was the fact the officers and deputies laugh about it. I told them there was no need to respond code to my house because the bad guy will be taken care of by then or I will drive myself to the hospital.

So it seems there are issues to response time, place, and resources.

GunDiva reported that she was spoiled in Fort Collins, Colorado,  with similar responses that Casper, Wyoming gave the public. Now that she moved outside of the big city, the response might be better or worse depending on where the units are located at the time of call out. It also helps she lives close to the law enforcement and fire head quarters for her area.

Indiana has the worst infrastructure I have seen. I want to know where all the road money goes? They aren't repaired, there are gaping pot holes that could swallow elephants, and I am certain the road condition would easily take out a patrol car. Is this a problem in your area?

Obviously if you live in the country, you may experience longer times. Can you defend yourself? Can you be resourceful?

Shoot me some discussion.

Going To The Dogs

Because of my age and squirrelitis, I may not have mentioned on here that Otis has the cancer. He is doing well most days. He had a really bad slump awhile ago. Some times,  his old self comes through and other days he rests. He still loves me all the same if not more.

One thing I've noticed is that his hair is shedding much worse. It drives me crazy. I also give him regular baths and brushings to pamper him and keep the hair down. It's still a chore. I would comb the hair on any old friend's back if it would make their cancer feel better.

Last night, while vacuuming, I had a great idea. I remembered the days of The Flowbee. As I was thinking about this great idea, Otis came and sat next to me. Moose...he runs away from the thing because he is a scaredy chicken cat. So...as I was holding the vacuum, it just happened to leap over to Otis and start sucking his hair. I have a powerful vacuum. He loved it.

I continued to vacuum all over and he rolled on his back for me.

Distractions happen. I can multi-task.

As my daughter was yelling at me from upstairs and I averted my attention to her, the vacuum meandered to Otis's man parts. At some part, his wanker got sucked up into the abyss of the tube. It didn't take Otis long to jerk out of a relaxed state into a state of surprise. This got my attention.

ME: What is the matter? Oh, oh shit. I'm sorry. Oh. Nasty. Oh. Geez. Off! Off! Abort! Abort!

Yeah. My dog got a blow job. I'm so proud.

Yes. I cleaned the vacuum cleaner nozzle.

No, I didn't ask him if he enjoyed it. It was a given by his behavior afterward.


This also brought up an old story about the first K-9 dog handler and his wife at Gotham City. We tortured her. As an entire police department. At the time, she also worked at the police department as support staff. So...someone, not me, got the brilliant idea to tell her that since her husband would be getting a K-9, there were certain duties that had to be done by the handler. However, we were informed that he was delegating some of the home care to her. She was told that because the police department got dogs that were not neutered, that in order for them to perform at top notch standards, they had to be "serviced" once a week, otherwise they got screwy and lost their head. In case you aren't getting my jist, she was told to give the dog a hand job. We told her it was just like marriage and it could be on Wednesdays. She totally believed it. After several days of fretting and stewing, she came to grips with her new duty and decided she would do what she had to do for the good of the company. Later, several days, maybe weeks, she was finally told that we were pulling her...uh leg. I and several others, placed specimen jars on her desk thereafter as a constant reminder of her gullible-ness. Great fun was had by all except the disappointed dog. 

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Neighbor Chronicles, Episode 8980

Today was a family tradition. I made fresh salsa in September. Usually, my mother and I would make it after going to a farmer's market and retrieving the fresh goodies. However, this year she is there and I am here. I also received the ingredients free from my neighbors and friends which was quite a nice surprise. Things grow in abundance here. It's like Hawaii minus the bananas, umbrella drinks, tropical paradise, and cabana boys. Sorta.

It appears that news travels fast that I made salsa, so I told those that gave me goodies that I would give them salsa if they also provided me a container. So beganeth the labor of love.

I completed the task in high fashion, donning my People of Walmart garb and up-do.

With so much vegetable guts to dispose of, I felt it was fitting to put them in the compost pile. I so happened to do that at the same time that Lord Farquaad was in his backyard which shares a fence line with mine.

FARQUAAD: Looks like you mowed your lawn super short. What's the purpose.

ME: I'm into Brazilian grass. 

FARQUAAD: I don't follow.

ME: I'm getting ready to treat it for bugs and creepy things. I wanted it short. 

FARQUAAD: Oh. Why you do that, you just send them to everyone else's yard and then when it wears off, they come back to your grass. It's like a bug vacation.

ME: You seriously think that's how bug killer works?

FARQUAAD: Around here, bugs are huge and so many of them you can't kill them.

ME: I see. (roll eyes) Apparently you don't know who I am. I am the master bug killer. I. AM. THE. BUG. LAW.

FARQUAAD: Yeah. I pretty much don't get you. What are you doing?

ME: Feeding my compost pile.

FARQUAAD: Uh. Did you notice it's right by my fence?

ME: Duh. It was the farthest from my windows and doors. Perfect space. And in the corner.

FARQUAAD: It's a bug magnet. 

ME: Well, if you would use the bug killer...

FARQUAAD: You just impossible sometimes. Heard you were making salsa today. Missus told me.

ME: Yep. Yep. Just finished.

FARQUAAD: Do you think you could spare some for me?

ME: Sure. Help yourself. (pointed to the compost pile) You might want to hurry before the bugs get in there. 


Yes. I am ornery. Yes. I did give Lord Farquaad real salsa, but not before being an ass. Besides, I thought I was damn funny. Sometimes I amuse myself.

Best Trail Book

I get really excited when I read a good book. It is even better when it was written by someone I know and love. It makes it super special. That's how I feel about the new book, "Tales from the Trail", by C.S. Wilson. She takes you along with her as she describes herself embarking on a new adventure in the mountains as a wrangler. You feel as if you are a member of her trail gang, perhaps even that new customer who sees how treacherous the Rocky Mountains really are for the first time.

Tales from the Trail is for everyone. She made a point to tell me that since she and I favor the "f" bomb on occasion. So with that in mind, I had Bug read it. She questioned it's validity. Not that the stories weren't real, but that our real friend wrote it. And then she spouted off..." I hope she didn't write about you like that one time, remember? When you fell into the river."

Yeah. First she is a teenager. You can only believe half of it. Anyway, it was a creek not a river. I was brutally bucked off by a Friesian stallion after 1 hour of exhausting ninja skills of hanging on before falling to my doom on boulders...and the little trickle flowing through at the time. It didn't save my fall. The water. Nor did the boulders.

C.S. Wilson gives a descriptive narrative of her journeys on the trail. It's not just that. It has substance. It has spunk. It has heart. It truly is an American treasure.

So anyway, the book is not about me.

It's about a girl. Who is awesome. Who has so much love in her heart for horses and the mountains, that you can't help but love her, too. It's more than just that. It's heartfelt. Wilson learned through trial and error about guests, the trails, and the horses. Her description of the horse personality I found most interesting. I also loved how she had a different relationship with each one. Then...along came The Queen. Queen Estes. You have to read it. It's good for the heart. It's good for the soul.

It's every little girl's dream to have that much exposure to a horse. If you are a horse person, you will understand and feel the love all over again. If you are not, you will want to.

I suggest you pick it up at the very low price both on Kindle and paperback on Amazon.com. Then share it with your children and/or your grandchildren. Especially give it as a gift to a friend.

Fargo Knocks Down Rookies

I knocked those bastahds down in the dirt...


For a limited time...The Rookies is on sale at a great Kindle price. Go check it out. The Boogie Man is now available for a short time on Kindle Matchbook  for $1.99 and on regular Kindle for $3.99. The third and fourth books are the works. The third is not a series of The Boogie Man...the fourth is...and it is has been so much fun writing it.

Tonight...we talk a book review. We chat up about police topics that hit Big Trouble in Little Towns. We talk dogs. It's all good. Most of it is funny. Some of it is serious. The Boogie Man has multiple personalities just like that...all with a twist of Fargo.

What is coming in the future, pray tell? One of Fargo's favorite holidays...Halloween. You might see a pic of The Harry Potter house once it is donned in holiday garb. It's fun. It's Fargo.

Halloween is also a topic this month...sent me your emails as I am building a great post. It will talk history, religious thoughts, American traditions, and my thoughts on All Hallow's Eve...and other cultures celebrate similar but different called The Day of the Dead. They are different days. What also goes with Halloween? The PoPo. They are always in the way.

So...send it this way. I don't care if you hate Halloween or love it or don't "believe" in it....send me your thoughts...or questions...or concerns.

BRING IT ON!

Friday, September 20, 2013

Tin Cans and A String

A student came in to talk about her program choice and ask some questions. Talking to a college student is like looking at a Picasso. Sometimes you get an arm coming out of a head. Sometimes you get a square body. Sometimes you get wheels for brains. Sometimes your dress is a rhombus. It's just that their mind goes so fast and all over the place. I can talk college.

So...this student got distracted by the receptionist telling her about the new iPhone updates coming. They both talked "Valley Girlish" about the negatives. Pretty soon another student walked in and joined in on the conversation.

Apparently, they are all freaked out about the "government" getting your fingerprints from apps and GPS tracking.

I told them that is why I don't have a cell phone, that I have a tin can and a string.

Pretty much listened to the sound of crickets and looked at deer eyes.

The conversation continued...

STUDENT 1: Yeah, like, they would need a search warrant to get that stuff and I would have to delete everything on my phone and I don't like them watching me through my camera or uploading my information.

ME: Yeah. That's why you need to go back to a tin can and a string.

STUDENT 1: Well, the police can't do anything and they will not violate my right to privacy because I know the laws. I took a Criminal Justice class.

The receptionist started to smirk about now and looked at me. Me who was playing dumb.

STUDENT 2: Well, they can just take your phone away except they can't take your fingerprints. Those are protected. So if they want to take a picture of you, you can hide yourself.

This went on for 10 or so minutes and I added in my two cents about how cell phones were evil and going to be the downfall of our souls.

Finally I had to pipe in...

ME: Well, cops can get your fingerprints without a warrant. And photographs.  And if you don't want to give up your phone if it contains anything of evidentiary value...for instance you are discovered to hold valuable information on there, even if it incriminates you...BAM! They are going to take your phone because of exigent circumstances. They may get a warrant in a few days or a subpoena depending on the state law, but your phone is gone. For days. No phone. Your life is over.

STUDENT 1: Well, I would sue because I know my rights. They would pay me big money for my loss.

STUDENT 2: Uh. No. They would have your phone. For life. Because you are an idiot. And I would cooperate because I have to have my phone. I don't care if they see my naked pictures.

ME: Are you my long lost daughter?

STUDENT 2: Uh. I don't think so.

ME: You should be.

STUDENT 1: Well, that is just ridiculous and I know they can't do all that and that is not right and they can get in big trouble. Brutality and stuff.

ME: Actually, she is exactly right. And brilliant.

The receptionist giggled.

ME: (looking at the receptionist) They don't know who I am, do they?

RECEPTIONIST: Nope.

ME: Let's not tell them. After all, WITSEC would come after me.

We giggled.

STUDENT 1: Well, I know.

STUDENT 2: Maybe you should go talk to your Criminal Justice professor and ask him.

STUDENT 1: Well, I only took one class and I failed it, so.

ME: Tin can and string, girls. I'm telling ya.

Calls To Campus

I don't talk about my new job. Why? It's not part of The Boogie Man Is My Friend. It's my "other" life. Rarely does it cross over.

I am enjoying college. It's like watching People of Walmart only at a higher level.

The students are fun. It is refreshing to see someone embrace life and hold on to the seat of their pants. They are like little sponges. Sucking up knowledge and life.

So...I saw this...

What does that do for me?

It's an uneducated response. I won't even argue the points, but let you fire away and give out your best discussion here.

I can best describe what is happening in America by my own experience. Wyoming recently went to an open carry law state wide. I was on patrol when this was being thrown around the legislature. Police chiefs and Sheriffs around the state were busy debating this topic in Cheyenne. Some were for, some were against. We might have all been apprehensive at first look because it was out of the blue.

We asked ourselves, "What's wrong with life as we know it?"

It was passed. Before it became in effect, we were handed down the "prepare for battle" speech from the Chief and other Administrators. At the same time we were to enforce the freedoms granted back to the people.

We asked ourselves, "What's going to become of this? John Wayne? Or Lil Wayne?"

It was The Law. It came to pass. It came to be.

We went on with our police lives.

We started to see some things happen. We started to see old ladies deterring armed robberies. We started to see hotel clerks defending themselves. No one got killed. The police arrested the bad guys. The towns hailed the citizens as heroes. We came to find that most gun-toting citizens were for the greater good. And freedoms. And The Constitution. They weren't freaks. They weren't crackheads.

So as I see the campus students embracing freedom of speech and holding demonstrations, passing out copies of The Constitution, shouting out for PETA, and whatever dear thing they hold in their hearts, I wonder where we have failed in our education. It saddens my heart that most are afraid of the unknown.

Station Break...Best Law Enforcement Blog Ranking


It is a great honor to announce that Background Checks.org has featured me amongst the best and brightest law enforcement bloggers of 2013, listing their top 50 for your perusal on their site. Click the badge to your right to connect you to the post. They ranked me number 16 which is terrific and such a nice surprise! Kudos and congrats go out to all my counterparts who were also featured as their top choices!

Go check them out. Their reasons behind my selection on their list was very flattering and complimentary...


Background Checks.org 50 Best Law Enforcement Blogs of 2013

Background Checks.org

50 Best Law Enforcement Blogs of 2013



"Our Editors and Readers selected your blog because of its high standard of quality information mixed with your excellent commentary.
 
We enjoyed reading your posts and we find them very informative."
 
THANK YOU!
 
For more of their review, go check them out...at Background Checks.org~
 
 

Thursday, September 19, 2013

The Abduction

Teenagers get abducted by aliens at the age of 13. We can see the development of becoming a target for this capture at about 11 and progressing rapidly by 12. Sometimes, claws, scales, and big buggy eye balls start to appear. Other times, it is a mental transition. Every parent in America should be prepared for this event.

ME: Hi, honey. How was your day?

BUG: Marvelous! I got an A in science today which brings my bad test score up.

ME: Great! Did you ask about additional work you could do to improve or how you could better prepare for the next test?

BUG: Mom! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO WRITE A LETTER TO MY TEACHER TO ASK THIS. It's not like preparing for the end of the world. It's my life! You need to pay attention.

ME: Uh. No. I told you  that you needed to take the initiative and approach your teacher and be prepared that she could say "no" and you have to live with it. I was going to write a note to ask her about your study habits or what she is observing in class. No need to yell at your mother.

BUG: OH. FINE! NOW YOU ARE A SPY. 

ME: Well, as a matter of fact, I have uploaded the GPS tracker device your father and I installed in you when you were a baby.

BUG: That's sick. I just want normal parents.

ME: Actually, that is a fantastic idea. And we are fresh out of normal. So what did you learn in school today?

BUG: We had a presentation on our you know...periods.

ME: English class? (snorting because I am so giving her a hard time)

BUG: NO! MOM! YOU KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT! 

ME: Oh. The OTHER period. When would you like to sit down and  have the sex talk with your mother?

BUG: NEver! MY moTHER does NOT HAVE SEX and I DON't WANt TO HEAR abOUT it! UGH! 

ME: Hmm. Well, you could have the talk that my parents gave me.

BUG: What was that?

ME: DON'T DO IT. DON'T THINK ABOUT IT. NICE GIRLS DON'T DO THAT. It ruined me. So unfair. I didn't have cool parents. I learned about sex through dad's Playboy magazines, the library, and the boys at school. There wasn't even any television shows that showed any of that. NICE GIRLS. Do you know how much guilt goes through your head when you are a horny teenager and NICE GIRLS are not supposed to think that. I began to think I was the devil spawn or something for having sex thoughts. 

BUG: EW! GROSS! Yeah. I know this already. I don't do it at all. I don't want to do it. CHANGE THE SUBJECT!

ME: Good. You should wait. 
I was a nice girl until I was 22, then I was really mad at my parents because if I had only known what I was missing, I would have had a lot more fun. Picture this...I went three year of college with no sex. The last American virgin in college in 1989...

BUG: MOM! GROSS! I DO NOT WANT TO PICTURE YOU HAVING SEX! STOP TALKING ABOUT IT. I CAN'T BE HAVING THESE PICTURES OF YOU! NASTY!

ME: Pictures? No, we never took pictures back then. That's all new stuff. 

BUG: Why do you do this to me? Why? You are a horrible mother. Who does this to their child? I am not listening any more!

ME: I don't want you to be freaked out about sex, honey. We should be able to talk about it and any questions you might have. It's a wonderful thing, just not until you are older and ready for it. (big smile) In fact...

BUG: STOP TALKING ABOUT IT! I SAID I AM DONE! DONE WITH THIS CONVERSATION!

ME: Ok. Do all you teenagers talk in capitals to your parents and yell, or just you?

BUG: IT'S BECAUSE WE ARE TALKING ABOUT SEX! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT! I DON'T WANT ANYONE TO KNOW OR HEAR IT EITHER! IT IS GROSS! SEX IS GROSS AND NASTY! I HATE EVEN TALKING ABOUT IT!

ME: Super. Plan A worked.

BUG: What do you mean?

ME: We are in the yard.

BUG: Yes. I know THAT, MOTHER!

ME: Well, every boy in town just heard you yell that you hate sex and it is gross and nasty. Mission accomplished. Could you yell louder so the next two towns over could hear you as well?

BUG: I SO HATE YOU!

ME: You might want to summon the mother ship now. 

BUG: I JUST WANT A NORMAL MOTHER!

ME: *blink*blink* Yep. Yep. We all can dream. 



Tuesday, September 17, 2013

September Sale

THIS...is on sale this month...Kindle Version only....get it while you can. It goes up in October. It's the latest version. It has one extra story in there that you first edition peeps didn't get. Otherwise...it's the same.

In 12 hours...it drops. Fall special. Why? Because I love fall.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

My Doll

Driving home from the volleyball game today, my daughter told me her back really hurt and she had stomach pains. I started to laugh. Then I panicked. Then I smirked.

BUG: What, Mom?

ME: You know what that means?

BUG: No.

ME: Yes.

BUG: It really hurts, Mom.

ME: Well, I will give  you some Midol when we get home.


BUG: What? NO! NO, Mom! You can't give me that stuff. That is what you too when you were pregnant. I'm not pregnant. I don't even think about that stuff. I don't want that MID...whatever you said. NO!

ME: What in the heck are you talking about? I didn't take that when I was pregnant.

BUG: Yes, You did. The doctor prescribed it for you. You had to take special vitamins.

ME: (laughing) Uh. Yeah. Those are not prenatal vitamins. Midol is for premenstrual cramps.

BUG: Oh. 

ME: I so love you. I love that fact that you are so innocent. Now, remember if you come within 1 foot of a boy, you could get diseases in your downstairs or pregnant.

BUG: Mom. Seriously? I'm not that dumb. 

ME: Nuts. 

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Stay



Today, driving into work, I felt I should listen to the radio and maybe get myself updated with local news instead of being stuck in my bubble. I always pay attention to national news and used to be up on local news until I started working at the college. Now my local news has been taken over by college news. I was relieved to know that I hadn't missed anything in the summer months. I could tell the new construction was all restaurants and college housing. A homicide occurred. People were calling in to win the morning radio show prizes. I think I am good now for the next quarter of the calendar year. Or perhaps I will make the morning show part of my driving routine as I used to do when I was a detective.

I might rap it out on the way home.

After the 10 minute blurb about news, the DJ played this song which has been one I enjoyed since it came out on the radio. Got me all hot and bothered on my way to work with papers. So awesome!

Funny thing is, when it first was aired way back when, I didn't realize it was Rhianna. After I searched the internet to find out who sang the song, I was impressed and I liked her new sound. I still run to a lengthy list of rap and other songs including Rhianna's Disturbia and Rehab...so adding this to my running mix is not conducive to getting a good pace. It has, however, been added to my cool down part where I walk for a bit before returning to my CrossFit garage workout or just inside if it is my short day.

On a separate note, it's a sexy song and reminds me of intense lust or a developing relationship.

If I felt things like that, I mean.

Sorry, Mom and Aunt Sue, the Fargo in me came out.

The Kathryn you know, on the other hand, is a quiet, nice virgin.

Somewhere.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Strange Brews

Bug and I had an eventful day. We picked all the colors out at the paint store for the Hairy Potter House. We only purchased one gallon of the base paint and a quart to paint over the barn graffiti mess on the north side.

I put her to work on the barn. Luckily the graffiti was done by short people. Probably midgets.

She did a fabulous job.

Meanwhile...I was scraping, using a wire brush and screwdriver to get the house ready. I had already taken a garden hoe to the entire place. I think I might invest in a good paint scraper, but next month. I started to paint the base paint, Knight's Armor. Love it. In fact, all of our paint colors are conducive to the Harry Potter House style...Knight's Armor, White Owl Farts, Raven's Feathers, Black Magic, and Dragon Balls. It's going to be awesome! Someday. I'm doing it the medieval way as well, a little at a time. Not because I don't have a cabana boy, well, yes, it has something to do with that. I, for one, want to relish in telling people it took MONTHS to get it done. Second, if I did it for more than 5 hours at a whack...I would hate, resent it, and paint it one color.

I have come to find some problems. My posts holding up the front porch are too small and not strong enough. Sheriff Mike and I found some larger ones, but that means I need man help. I don't have any. So...before winter...possibly...I am going to become a man. Or maybe ask Lord Farquaad and Sheriff Mike if they could assist. I haven't decided yet if I will tackle it myself.  I know what needs to be done, it just may take someone or two people stronger than me. I also found some foundation work that needs to be patched and sealed. No problemo. I can do that one all by myself. I am a contractor...at least in my mind. For an 1898ish house...I thought that was pretty darn spiffy. It needs a new roof, but it doesn't leak yet. Maybe mother nature will give me one next year. Potter is starting to show some age...

While we were busy little bees, Bug asked me a series of questions..

BUG: Mom, what do you want for your birthday?

ME: An oil change in the Gold Beast. In fact, I want the garage to come pick up my truck at work and deliver it to me when I get home. They do that in town at the college, you know.

BUG: Uh. Mom. That's a gross birthday present. Anything else?

ME: New tires on the Gold Beast.

BUG: Mom! You can't get those kind of presents for your birthday. Yuck! Don't you want something pretty?

ME:  Antique gargoyle lights on the front and back of the house. I need two.

BUG: I am not talking to you until you can give me a good answer.

ME: That was my answer. In order of importance.

BUG: You are so going to get nothing for your birthday.

ME: Yeah. I know.

Pitiful birthday list. As I thought about it, it was probably the lamest list I have ever come up with in all of my life. At my age...celebrating the 17th anniversary of my 29th year, I really don't need anything "pretty". Those things are nice, but not necessary. This year it's about necessary. It doesn't please the Bugmeister who is all about giving "pretty" presents like perfume, jewelry, something flashy. Maybe I'm growing up.  But it's a good list and I like everything on it. Maybe I will write to Santa...

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Me And The Girls

Attending my daughter's first home volleyball game was a treat. It was different. It was not the same as when I played back when stone tablets were used as composition notebooks. The rules have changed. The uniforms have gotten slutty. They don't match. It's crazy.

One thing remains the same, however. There is always that one creeper that sits next to Fargo. It couldn't be more obvious. I opt for the nosebleed section where I can have my back to the wall and I can zoom in and not disturb anyone while I take pics of Bug.

Except the creepers follow me there. Not only did the creeper come up to nosebleed section where only I chose to dwell, but he sat right next to me and smiled. I did the fake smile thing. He didn't notice. It wasn't too long into the first match when I observed him checking out the girls.

Not just "the girls" but THE girls. Mine.

Being the helpful person I am, I leaned over to him sorta close....because my whispering was going to disturb someone up there (eye roll)...

ME: It's fun to watch the girls, isn't it?

CREEPER: Yep. Yep.

ME: Which one do you like better?

CREEPER: What?

ME: Do you have a favorite? Any relatives out there?

CREEPER: Oh. No.

ME: I see.

CREEPER: Yep. Yep.

ME: They just normally out there bouncing all over the floor like that where you usually see them?

CREEPER: What? Huh?

ME: (talking louder because he must be deaf) The girls? They are bouncy!

CREEPER: Yah. Yah. They never sit still.

ME: You like the brown or the green ones?

CREEPER: What?

ME: The teams. Which team?

CREEPER: Oh. They are both fun to watch.

By now, I didn't know if I had a dirty old man who was watching THE girls and THAH girls. Who sits up in nosebleed next to Fargo except some perv?

After the first set of matches, two more old codgers joined me and I felt I was at the raisin ranch. They asked Creeper if he was driving the bus. That did it.

ME: You drive the bus? For the other team?

CREEPER: Yah. Yah.

ME: I was set up.

CREEPER: Why?

ME: You always have to watch out for the green ones.

CREEPER: What?

ME: I'm brown.

CREEPER: Huh?

ME: Never mind. You get enough naps in?

GREEN 1: Earl take a nap? Hee hee.

ME: Yup. More than one.

GREEN 2: (yelling for no apparent reason other than he didn't have his hearing aids) Earl! Earl! You best not be napping when you drive them home, now.

ME: That makes me feel much better. Go green.

CREEPER: You got a kid on the green team?

ME: (sigh) I really have no idea anymore.

GREEN 1: You don't know which kid is yours?

ME: Nope. I know I have a couple of girls. That's it.

GREEN 2: Do you need us to help you find them?

ME: Nah. I think I will manage to round them up when it's time to leave.

GREEN 1: Ok. Well, we will help you if you ask us.

ME: Yep. Yep.

GREEN 2: Earl! Go get the bus started. It's time.

CREEPER: Huh?

GREEN 1: The bus.

CREEPER: Oh. Yah. Gotta go. Nice meetin' ya, Miss.

ME: Yep. Yep. Same here.

GREEN 1: We can keep you company until you find your girls if you want.

ME: Oh, that's OK. I don't want to hold you up. You go do what you gotta do.

GREEN 2: Well, let's go find our girls. Grandkids. Sure hard to keep up with them these days.

ME: Duct tape.

GREEN 2: Huh? Oh...yah. Hee hee. Duct tape them to the floor. That will hold 'em.

ME: Yep. I usually do it the other way, tho.

GREEN 2: I don't follow.

ME: Yep. Yep. You folks have a nice day!

GREEN 1: You too, young lady.

GREEN 2: Good luck finding your girls!

ME: Yep. I have a feeling they will pop up somewhere.



Is it wrong to mess with old people?