Evidence 101

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







Tuesday, November 29, 2016

The Robburglar

Some housekeeping is in order.

First, there are a lot of fucks in here today. If you are against cursing as part of the English language in which they can be used as adjectives or nouns, you should leave today and go to a nice peace making site. Today if full of anger and joy. Cop style.

Cops have pet peeves. We either ignore them or they grate on our nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. If it becomes a chronic issue, I will become the People's Frankenstein.

Two of the most common are firearms safety and the bastardizing of verbage. Ok. Pause. Thinking about these things is already fucking with my head and causing the beast mode to be activated. I think part of the reason is because I was recently a victim of burglary and so I am pissy. If it is coming out in this post, I apologize to all of you lovely people.

My next research project is going to focus on how long it takes victims to expel anger.

Ok. So back to the heart of this verbial bastardizing post. Yes, I make up words, too. But my peeves aren't with people making up words, it is with them not knowing what they fucking actually are. So here goes: MY PEEVES

1. Keep your fucking finger out of the trigger-index, index, index. 

I think when I type those words, I am actually pounding the keyboard. The effects of seeing someone misusing or mishandling a firearm rages to my ever inner soul. Seriously. I will say something to a fool. I just did the other day in a gun shop and the fucking firearm wasn't even loaded. It was my big boss. I helped him purchase a new weapon and he was handling and I am all like WHOA, DUDE. It was all good. He is new and now that he has gone to the range...he is so respectful and good with his Glock. Yay. He is proud and I am proud.

But first...there was CLASH OF THE TITANS.

2. If I hear another person say, "I've been robbed! I've been robbed!" and someone hasn't had a gun to their head or beat up while the family gold was ripped from their neck, then I am going to give them a fucking throat chop. Do you know what the word "robbery" or "robbed" means? Do you know the internal response an officer feels when the word "robbery" is mentioned or the images circling in our head?

"OMG. Are you OK?"

Sure this is a natural response to any victimization of crime.

But when you say robbery, I am visualizing you with body wounds or some serious mental injury.

And there is a difference between robbery, burglary, and home invasion.

When a locked/unlocked occupied/unoccupied structure or fenced area gets entered or suspects remain upon and/or property is stolen...that is a FUCKING BURGLARY.  If people are in their home, and an entry is made and goods stolen that is a home invasion. This includes an "invasion into the structure" concurrently while bad guys are running around stealing and shit and scaring the residents. Additionally they could be stealing while the residents are sleeping. That is a form of a burglary and often referred to as a FUCKING HOME INVASION. Some might charge it as a robbery and some might charge it as a burglary. It depends on what the intent of the bad guys was/is at the time and what they are doing and saying. Kapeesh?

If weapons are involved, it is a FUCKING AGGRAVATED BURGLARY. That means if they had weapons or stole weapons. Now if the bad guys used weapons in the home invasion that can also be kidnapping and armed robbery and aggravated burglary all together. See? Get it?

If a business owner is doing their daily business thing and a dude comes in with a weapon or pretend weapon and demands money or steals shit...that is a fucking robbery. If the business owner is home and the business is closed and bad guys come into the business and steal shit...that is a fucking burglary. If they steal guns from a gun shop that is THE END OF THE FUCKING WORLD and AN AGGRAVATED BURGLARY.

If you are walking down the street and get "mugged", that is a fucking robbery. If weapons are involved, it is a FUCKING ARMED ROBBERY. If just physical strength or threats are used it is a FUCKING STRONG ARM ROBBERY. OK. Kapeesh?

It is not a robbery when Little Johnnie's bike gets stolen out of the front yard. It is not a robbery when your tools get stolen out of your garage or home. Do not run into the front yard of your home, screaming, "I HAVE BEEN ROBBED!", when your x-box has been stolen while you were at work.

Both types of bad guys who engage in this kind of theivery can be defined as fucking rat bastards. 

You know what makes me most mad about being a victim of a burglary? I know better to be more careful. But I also hid things. It was locked up, etc. No, I didn't leave it in the yard. It sucks when you live in a shitty state where insurance on a restoration site does not cover contents and it is sky high for structure coverage and liability. It fucking sucks. Another reason why I am not long for this Indiana world.

The one thing stolen from me which makes me so damn mad is the red Milwaukee 2407 drill set that I bought after my first divorce as my freedom tool. I am poor and so I will have to wait for my tax refund to replace it.

Fucking rat bastards.
And also my rubber mallet. I used that to finish a fireplace and I was damn proud of my work. Yes, I stripped that mantel and put those rocks on there. I R a mason. I mean, seriously, I wish I had the dough to go out and buy a new set and love it and hug it or go rescue mine from the bad guy. That's how much I loved it. I am so sad. I'm sad about the tools which were given to me by my friends when I got divorced. I am sad about the tools I purchased over many years. I am sad about the ones that were left behind by my ex-husband that I re-purposed and learned how to use. I am sad about my dad's tools that I had since he died. I am just fucking sad.

Sealing of stones left and wallah! DONE.

Fuckers.

I know. You are like...Whoa, Fargo, where hath she gone? I really do feel homicidal today and boy howdy, do I wish the Wild West was alive for just one moment to take care of my business on the home front. I know it is a fleeting moment of intense anger. However, it has lasted two days. That's probably not healthy. I don't talk about it at work much. Everyone knows right now I am an explosion waiting to happen.

I'm sure my Milwaukee drill was pawned for heroin. I hope their fucking teeth fall out and they rot in hell. Yes, I have already had a bottle of wine as therapy two nights ago and it did not help.

And if you want to tell me about your day and the cute arrangement you made on your mantel or how wonderful your cup of coffee tastes...well, I don't want to hear about it. Why? Because I want to be a miserable fucking bitch for a while. Nuff said.

I am literally running around every day with tear filled eyes, trying to avoid looking like a cry baby but all I want to do is weep.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Faux News

The last few days have been interesting headline news. I have even gotten suckered in there at times. Some outlets have even included some fake news used for click baits and do not match the article or content of the problem. Isn't it funny how headlines grab your attention and affect our emotions instantly? We may or may not even read the article which may or may not match the title. Why is that? Because fake news and click baits generate advertisers and revenue and attention.

It's sad, really. How sad is it? It's just about as sad as when you say hello to someone in church and don't get a reply.

Ok. I have a tendency to let my smart ass leak out. Sorry. Back to the nitty gritty.

For instance, the articles going around about the Denver Sheriff's Department getting fined for not hiring illegal aliens. False. I even got sucked into that. It was because their wordage excluded legal residents who were not citizens of the US. It also included practices that the department ONLY considered US citizens. Big difference.

The military has a pathway to citizenship. Many foreign residents serve in the military.

Anyhoozle, back to the Homeland... so this language was considered discriminatory.

Ok. Stop the bus.



Most law enforcement organizations do not hire non-US citizens.  Why aren't those others fined? Because the language is different and they are codified. I bet the farm (and I don't even have one so it is a big gamble) that Colorado fixes their language. They will either change their hiring practices or change the laws on the books like the other states.

An excerpt from one of Caller links I shared: "More than 40 states have laws restricting non-citizens from being police officers, but Colorado is not one of them, a fact the Denver Sheriff's Department did not know, the Caller reported."

There are some that do hire non-US citizens. They are legal residents of the US and have a clearance to work here. Some are working on getting citizenship.

So what does this mean?

Many LEOs were under the assumption that no one can be a LEO unless they were a US citizen. That is true in many organizations and that is not against the federal law. Here is another case out of Oregon. 

So confusing, right? Not really.

Now back to the headline. Illegal aliens cannot be LEO in any state in the US. So some of the headlines out there were baiting people angrily toward the DOJ forcing Denver to hire illegal aliens. Not so. But...here's another thing...why in the world are you going to cripple an agency with fines? You couldn't just say...oh hey...this is against federal discrimination laws because of your language and you need to fix it. Ten hut ten hurry. You have a probationary period. And you have to go back and reach out to all those other applications you discarded and reevaluate the applicants. IF you refuse...then you will have the wrath of the federal government. Maybe that is what happened behind the scenes. We may never know. Or it might come out in sound bytes.

But the PoPo are being very "yes ma'am" and "no ma'am" about it. They also cited they did not intentionally do this and were fixing it right away.

Nothing like the big clobber of government down on your head.

I know fines and sanctions are in place for a reason, but the criminal justice system needs to be reformed working together, not just by throwing a minnow out in a tank of whales and expecting them to figure it out. Let's work together. Get on the same page. Get some standards across the board. There are so many parameters all over the nation that no agency is the same. The rules are different. In some places you cannot exceed the age of 35 for application. Some have strict hiring processes. Some hire their buddies. Egads, Batman!

I have never understood why states don't work together for the professionalism of the career and standardize some things about hiring processes and lateral transfers. Slowly there are some rays of sunshine in this area, but it has taken decades. We all do the same job. Don't we want to do it best?

It doesn't mean police are going to spit out military base clones. Peace officers standards are generally the same in each state with little variances. Some agencies are super strict and some super lax in their maintenance, training, leadership development, and requirements. That's the meat and potatoes. Just having the basics isn't good enough. I call it UPKEEP.

You have to grow good LEOs.

It will be interesting to see how things pan out over the next few years and how much the federal government will try to impress upon the states for reformation.

It's a big task.


Monday, November 21, 2016

Sheriff Woody

Browsing through some journal entries...I found this peach of a night. You can tell what kind of mood I was in by my sarcasm and choice of vocabulary.  I never sugar coat things nor wrote politically correct passages in those days. Sometimes...we just have to vent  organically about the kind of exposures we get...

The Lepreshawn was released from refresher training. He didn't enjoy the tunes I played for him during his express trip back to patrol. He can play his AC/DC and I can play my hood music. It's all good. Although I did pull up to him with my Billy Squier blaring...and he rolled his eyes...asked me where I had been hiding that.

MWAAHHHHAA! Aren't training officers great?

The police blotter went to hell in a hand basket...here's the first 5 hours of shift...all legit calls...

FELONY POSSESSION OF METH WITH INTENT TO DELIVER

FELONY POSSESSION OF METH WITH INTENT TO DELIVER

MAN WITH SHOTGUN AT SMITH'S GROCERY STORE

MAN WITH SHOTGUN TO HIS HEAD IN HOUSE

MAN WITH SHOTGUN AT APARTMENT COMPLEX SHOOTING CAR WINDOWS OUT

KIDNAPPING-TWO MINOR CHILDREN

FIGHT

FIGHT

FIGHT

BAR FIGHT

1ST DEGREE SEXUAL ASSAULT WITH A MINOR CHILD

2ND DEGREE SEXUAL ASSAULT WITH A MINOR CHILD

CHILD PORNOGRAPHY

FIGHT

FIGHT

ARMED ROBBERY

FAMILY FIGHT

ARE WE IN DETROIT, PEOPLE?! WILD WEST...MY ASS...

The guns were out of our holsters more than they were in.

That is an accurate assessment of how bad the night goes...

Guess what calls I got stuck with and you win a new car! JUST KIDDING. The police department might frown on me giving away my g-ride.

But...in case it becomes a prize, you should know-it goes really fast and you can make home movies inside the car.

Three of the crimes up there were committed by one person...the rest all had separate suspects. Guess which ones those are and you have my job...for a week...'cause I need a vacation.

I responded to 11 out of the above calls.

After taking Ma and Pa Kettle...(almost literally speaking) to jail, I ran from call to call. But first...the Kettles:  a 53 year old cougar (who fell out of a tree and hit every ugly stick on the way down ) and her 37 year old husband went to jail for dealing dope.

It didn't slow down. But I was off my game all night. Maybe I was discombobulated because Lepreshawn wasn't in the car to harass. I had to go run 3 miles at the police gym around 1 AM just to run all the Boogie Man thoughts out of my head. It was getting scary out there. I was surprised I even got a break during all that chaos. BUT...I just hit the code 7 at the right time.

One of the most fucked up calls that took me back to my detective days memorable calls of the evening was Sheriff Woody. He had been a corrections officer in a far west state for over 10 years. His wife was serving our country in Afghanistan. He decided while she was gone to diddle his daughter and her friend and some other things.

I sized him up. He was quite the loser. You know what really pisses us off? When criminally minded people somehow infiltrate the criminal justice system and work beside us at some point. I really want to kick them in the privates.

Because he was into oversharing, he told me he got fired from being a cop because he got caught hiding in a locker in the girls' locker room at work. Yeah, you little pervs out there...get out of the girls' locker room...quick...before you get caught. And the dude was huge...so how do you stuff a 6-1 weighing in at 270 pound dude in a locker? No wonder he got caught. First, he's a GENIUS...big man in a little hole (sing it like Chris Farley and Dana Carvey)...second, I'm sure he was in there for days because he was stuck. Ugh!

He confessed all his sins over the last 5 years, telling tales that he wanted to make it big in movies and pics...and I'm not talking proper flicks. Who brags about that? Fucking douche canoe. Internet trader whore pimp child molester weirdo. Yes, he was three of the crimes above.

So anypervert, I arrested him and he smiled when I put the handcuffs on. I've had smart asses before who are snide and gaff at the PoPo. This was something else, but I chose to ignore him.

I patted him down and he giggled. Whiskey-tango-foxtrot. I was in possession of a real weirdo.


Not a good sign.

When I stuffed him in my half cage...ok, I was not being mean...blame the car design...he got in and shoved himself to the far corner. He giggled and squirmed (as much as he could) all the way to the jail. Weird.

I asked him if he was alright a few times on the way up to the pokey and he always smiled and said he was SUPER! Odd.

Never had he been to jail...except when he worked in one.

Sooo....was it nervousness? Was it stress?

Hell to the NOOOOOOO...

But I really didn't know what it was until after the fact.

When I took him through the Iron Gates of Hell..he was joking and laughing and yucking it up. Then the detention officer came in...did his thing.

The detention officer had a weird look on his face and he looked at me funny. Well, I looked at him funny right back. The dude was strange. What could I say?

I had a reputation of bringing in weirdos so I thought the DO was just giving me one of those regular weirdo looks.

He was passed through to the holding cells and I started to depart the ways.

They buzzed me on the intercom to stay in the book in room. I waited with obedience and an impatient stance.

Then the detention officer brought me the dreaded super dooper maximum strength germ killing knock the hair off your ballz sanitizer spray and a throw down towel.

I was confused.

DETENTION OFFICER: TRUST ME

ME: What the?

DETENTION OFFICER: TRUST ME. SHERIFF WOODY.


ME: Yeah, that about suits him.

DETENTION OFFICER: NO...YOU DON'T GET IT. HE HAD A PROBLEM IN YOUR CAR.

ME: What? We didn't have any issues. I had the recorder on. Is he complaining?

DETENTION OFFICER: NO. I AM TELLING YOU TO GO CLEAN OUT YOUR BACK SEAT.

ME: You don't have to yell at me. He didn't throw up or pee his pants. I call that a win-win.

DETENTION OFFICER: Sorry. He had a hard on in your car. Might have made a mess.

[Oh..the lights came on and angels DID NOT sing from heaven at the thought of jizz whiz in my g-ride]

ME: What the? Are you kidding me? The sicko. Really?

DETENTION OFFICER: Really. That's why he wouldn't stand against the wall right when I patted him down. He would have knocked his dick against the brick. Then after we passed him through...he told me he had a problem. It was a LITTLE problem...boner... but still.

ME: What the? Let me go talk to that fuckstick.

So I went back into holding and gave him a piece of my mind. Apparently, after talking about his deeds and then getting into my hot car with Ray J's "Sexy Can I" playing...he got turned on.

UGH! Perverts! What is wrong with people?! What a dick whistle.

EW!   I will never understand the perverted ways of arousal.

In a ball in his cell while I am scolding him, he kept telling me he just needed help. I am sure I looked like the Bitch From Hell leaving that room. I can't even repeat what I said. It was on camera...so I am sure the Sheriff...not Sheriff Woody...will be calling my supervisor...or NOT. He hates perverts too.

And my poor g-ride...ruined for life. It will never be the same...I can't even look in my back seat anymore.

My car is so ashamed.

You can tell...she has been violated.

I even tried giving her a wash and wax job. It didn't help. And I share the pain of violation with her.

Car therapy anyone?

We can't play Ray J anymore. It brings back bad memories. At least it was a lame CD...not like throwing my Bone Thugs or 50 Cent out the window. God forbid if I had been using my iPod. That's an expensive disposable item. Or Billy...I just cringe to think what would have happened if I had played THE STROKE.

I hate it when the bad guys get one UP (pun intended) on the PoPo.

Thursday, November 17, 2016

The Noises In Our Heads

Any one struggling to find a reliable news source? I finally started going to The Economist on a regular basis. Thank you, Jesus. It seems less sensational and more factual...but it is journalism so take my recommendation with a grain of salt. Gone is anything remotely attributed to sports, Hollywood gossip, or this wacky news reporting from American mainstream media.

I really don't know what to think of Hillary's last speech. On one hand, I am glad she was forthright in coming out with her deepest feelings like she wanted to curl up in a book and never leave the house. I guess she was that confident she was going to be president. And she looked like hell. Yikes. So you could tell she had done some "Democratic soul searching" which I translate to depression and sadness. But on the other hand...I have never known any other politician to talk like that and most of the time they have their game face on, so it made her appear vulnerable. I guess that is human. I struggle with this in those who are public officials. It is probably because I wasn't allowed to show those things on the job...so neither should anyone else. A bad analogy. However, it also shows to me an emotional state which if she was this distraught over this...would that have resonated to how she handled other things. Just a thought.

And I will relish the day politics is not the top of the list and news goes back to mass disasters and destructive behavior. Oh..just kidding. Relax. I can have some super cynical humor. 


SO it became a time to reflect back when I threw a tantrum (not yesterday but a few days back...let's say to 2012) and when I located this post from 2012, I was overcome with sadness. If I could only turn back time...(sing it Cyndi)

I suppose cops are never suppose to show their human side to the public and only contain our emotions. We often do that on the job. Seldom do we slip even in the heinous of crime scenes. Most often I do a good job of creating an outer shell. However, I am a girl. Yes. Tears happen.

Have you ever been on the verge of tears, but they just don't come? I'm there.

A year ago I put my place up for sale. The first realtor did nothing, not even advertise. For 4 months the only thing he did was put it on the MLS and try to sell it to two rich families at a jacked up price. I was so busy, it took 5 months to fire him when I found the time.

I hired a good realtor. Two weeks later, she retired and passed my file off to another realtor friend of hers, me trusting in the referral. For 6 months, my place saw a lot of advertising but no calls and no showings. Not one. I fired that realtor and chose my next.

She found many problems in the listing...false advertising, advertising the wrong acreage (less than I had), the wrong square footage in the house(less than I had), the wrong size of shop (she advertised a lot less than I had...she listed the wrong materials in the kitchen...a lot less quality than I had. Many of these things I got into a pissing match over and the realtor would not change...just told me to be patient. I found out from my new realtor that my place had been listed as, "confidential, no showings." WTF? The old realtor had even advertised there was state land in the middle of my land. WTF? She never picked up the paperwork at the house and was only there once. I had to put the signs in the ground and put them on my property, not the rancher's where she had it. On and on...with the problems. The pictures were blurry on the MLS. Then the day before I fired her, she said, "You need to reduce your price by $150,000." Seriously? Your market analysis was that far off? I was bent.

It's been three weeks with the new one and the house has shown 5 times and we have had several inquiries. The ranchers and fishing guides can't believe it's still on the market with the reduced price.

So that's good news, right?

I can't really get excited because I've been spinning my wheels for a year.
I'm ready to start fresh, pay off my bills, move and begin a new life. Most of all, I'm ready to be a REAL mother. I say that in jest, but it's true. My job gets in the way. If any other woman cop tells you different they are full of shit or a man cop.

Edward Bulwer Lytton, whom I do not know or any shit from shinola that he was famous for...so sue me... once said something profound that has been said often...

To find what you seek in the road of life,
the best proverb of all is that which says:
"Leave no stone unturned."

Well, I did. I walked around the yard and kicked every stone. There literally are none left unturned. I found myself talking out loud and then realized I was talking to God. Then I wondered if he could hear me with all the bazillions of people praying and talking to him at the same time I was. I even got mad. I didn't get mad at God out loud, but I was miffed and blurted out mumbles. I'm sure He still heard me. What is my path? Why can't you take me there down an easier road? Haven't I done enough good to have a break? Why am I your punching bag?

I was being silly but then again venting is supposed to be healthy, right?

Although my world is in turbulence right now, I found myself still going forward, thinking forward, always dreaming. I feel heavy, tho, because two years have continued to have one disaster after another. They still keep coming. And I'm not kidding. They are literally great disasters, however, I still see the little rays of sunshine and hope. I have positive moments and a wonderful family and friend support structure that continue to hold me up.

Sometimes I feel like I'm hanging on a thread...just to lose everything financially, only to find one more month I can barely pay the mortgage somehow, someway.Each day is harder to scrap up the funds, even on my small budget. I suppose if my disasters didn't happen to be those that were wallet eating kind or heart breaking kind, things would be different.

This home was my sanctuary and now feels like a prison. Maybe that is what is meant to be. Then I think that statement is preposterous.

I look around and see all the amazing wildlife. I mean how often to you get to sit on your deck and watch a bald eagle swoop into the river and grab a fish? Birds singing? Meadowlarks? Grackles? Bunnies? Or tundra swans during mating season? Egrets? Blue Herons? Mountain lions? Beaver? Otter? Weasels? Mink? Raccoons? Geese, ducks, yes...pelican. Blah, blah, the list goes on. How about the 400 elk that migrate during November to cross the river? Yes, let's not forget my friends the snakes. I'm so accustomed to them, they only scare me right before I chop their heads off with a shovel.

I think maybe it's become too financially great and I am holding out that it will sell and I can relieve my duty and my debts.  I was so adamant in keeping it, was I so dumb to not notice it would become my ball and chain? My purgatory? [I'm not even Catholic, but I use the word lightly] Perhaps it's the anxious feelings I have to move on. I'm ready.

The River War Haus


Although I really feel at peace here and I have preserved the land as best I could afford with more moxie than money, improved the habitat, and tried to keep the riverbank safe from buffoons, I think it is time to pass it on to someone else. There is much more to do that I can't afford and I think another steward of the land needs to add their touch. I guess when does it stop becoming day by day? When do the goals and dreams happen? Are they the ones I'm supposed to attain? It was all starting to hurt my head, so I decided to go inside.

Then it started again. The noise.

Why do things and people come into our lives? Sometimes it hits us on the head like a hammer, sometimes it is slight, sometimes it is unknown.

I responded to a call today and the name, faces, and circumstances all seemed familiar. While Squirrel was off talking to some folks, I started poking around the back of the house. I peeked inside a car window and saw a name on a piece of paper.

Then I called my buddy, The Tuminator. We worked as detectives for over 7 years together. Many of our cases were action and high profile. We had a blast. He and his wife, Marla Dearest, still remain dear friends 20 some years after first meeting on the job at the police department.

ME: Hey, remember that case?

TUMINATOR: [laughing] Which one?

ME: That ONE?

DUH. We only did 100s.

I gave him the information and he refreshed my memory of a homicide of a baby where the boyfriend threw the infant and the infant died. The girlfriend-mother of the child tried to cover it up. It was weeks of work. We were working long hours, interrogating the world and finally got a confession. The boyfriend is still in jail and will remain there for life...or at least 15 years. Apparently, when you kill an infant it's not as important as killing an adult and you get less time. Yeah. Makes no sense.

Anydigression...

Here I was today face to face with the surviving older boy of that homicide victim and two new siblings. They had been locked out of the house by their mother and left alone. Like...all day. By the time we got there it was 2:00 pm and 92 degrees. Very small children. One of them 4, was alone and crying in the street for quite some time before a neighbor rounded them up and called police.

The neighbors and trailer park management came together to tell the police their story of how these children are left like this and often just wander around unattended while mom drives off for hours and almost all day. They knew they should have called but they had been taking care of the kiddos because they felt sorry for the kids. But...no more. They called. These were outstandingly nice and well behaved children.

The kids were distrusting of the police but made Squirrel and I laugh because they said they liked the "skinny" cops, not the fat cop. We knew they were making reference to another  officer on another shift who worked the "ghetto ghetto" who had a gruff reputation.

We took the kids away. The mother never showed up even after 5 hours. She didn't call or answer her calls or messages. At about 6:00 pm, she finally called the cops. We asked her where she had been, knowing full well the answer.

Apparently she calls her drug dealer "Walmart."

What does the call have to do with my personal stress?  Absolutely nothing, but it just is a piece of the noise inside my head and a show of the outer shell lifted off the cop. Someone put it back on!

Being stressed out and sorta normal is hard. Some might even think I'm crazy or having a meltdown. I like to think of it as the point where God gives you too much to handle and things are going to turn around positive soon. I think it's much easier to have multiple personalities...at least you could give them all a job.

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Berzerk! Lose Yourself!

Apocalypse...Day 8. We are still all alive and drinking lattes and putting gas in our vehicles. Wow. So far I haven't had to use any cans of whoop ass nor stock up on canned goods, bread, and water. Oliver has been practicing Walking Dead behavior and jumps on my stomach at night, curls up in a ball and stares at me. All. Night. Long. CLAIMED!

I think he is worried because of my concussion. WHICH...I might add...is causing some whacked behavior and memory loss. I have trenches in my house because I walk 5 feet and forget what I was going to do, then backtrack, remember, then forget. Fuck me in the ass. My daughter says I need to eliminate the phrase from my lips because she really HATES it and I have been saying it too much. Good thing that concussion didn't expunge all my memories and jargon.

Oh...I don't know if I mentioned it, but I fell off a ladder and hit my head on cement and on the way down a brick wall. Dislocated my shoulder and cracked the ball joint. That's what I call that thing that hooks the arm to the shoulder. But hey...I did not die.


ER Selfie!
I got the special room





Word to your motha...don't dance on a ladder to Fergie, using your paint brush as a microphone in a super overly large Tyvec suit. I went to the local ER and Peyton Manning saw me naked.

Buy hey! No worries. I look much better now. All the color is drained out of my face. I have no idea. That's what concussions do, I guess. 
What happened to my color? Ack! Dang camera. LOL
Today, I am in a lot of pain even though it has been two weeks since "the fall". The ER is convinced I got beat up by a man. After being interrogated, I am pretty sure they still don't believe me. Whatever. If they only knew me. I don't think they liked my answer that if a man tried to beat me up...he would be in their triage area on a stretcher or better yet in the morgue. Those are "alarming" words. They even asked where it happened and "if I send officers there, what will they find." I said, "NO ONE." 

Egads. We have taken 5 steps forward and 3 backward in helping women. 

The super moon is destroying my electronics and appliances. Photo credit: Bug (she is a marvelous photographer)



My refrigerator is about to go out, however, I think it is a bazillion years old and possibly June used it to keep leftovers fresh for the Beaver.

Negative energy surrounds me and I am supposed to cut cords from people who suck the life out of me by TODAY. The PRESSURE!

On top of that, all the media outlets have gone berzerk and I can't find a reliable news source. Wait. That already happened. BUT...it is getting worse. I just get angry. I can't find anything that is fact reporting. Skewed News is the way to go...and it comes from both the left and the right. I have never seen so many network meltdowns IN.MY.LIFE. Adults having temper tantrums and spewing so much personal opinion just makes me sour. And I don't care if I align with them or not. I don't like it. I like fact reporting. The trust is gone. I have to question everything. Geez, next thing you know, I will be wondering if we really did land on the moon.

It is world panic time and as the CNN ticker at work pans out: DEMOCRATS BEGIN TO DO SOUL SEARCHING. WTF? Over?

Maybe it is just me, but I keep seeing a lot of whackadoodle poodle thinking and reacting out there. It's not the fucking Purge out there. When that starts up, we should fucking panic. Perhaps I just don't panic until the last minute or when I need to until the world ends. I'm a procrastinator panicker type. I think I should coin that phrase and add it to the DSM-5.

It's time for a little Eminem



I think I am just going to tackle life by getting some more tattoos.



Friday, November 11, 2016

DeWhoreable Me and "The Others"

I think they should make a movie about that. Oh...wait...they may have already. Was I naked?

I'm not sure. Foggy memories.

However, I am sure the next movie made by Michael Moore besides "I'm Right" which would be irony at its best....would be "Deplorable Me: A Movie About Trump Supporters." Here is a humor piece for you to reach some Zen moments...




Sooo...word of warning this entire post is not going to be politically correct. Like. At. All.

It is full of snark and circumstance.

So sensitive...people are. I usually have a good sense of humor no matter what side it comes from. I even think the new phrase: "Orange Is The New Black" in reference to Trump is funny as is the "Orange Brigade" and others. I'm not a right winger. I am a moderate Republican. I try to stand up for what is right even if it swings left. Does that makes sense? It does in my mind.

And even my conservative counterparts might disagree with me. That is OK. I love them one and all. Wow. I sound like Santa Claus. No wait, that was Merry Christmas to all. How can anyone even take heart anything I say when I confuse Christmas sayings.

Damn, I'm on a roll today.

So I thought I would have a little fun with Twitter. You knew I was going to piss someone off, right?

It didn't take long for my phone to start dinging which was really distracting in the office. I cannot for the life of me figure out how to shut off Twitter notifications. Fucking technology.

Anyhoozle, most of it was likes and retweets. But then...bah bah bahm. Bam! The "others" (lefties) got really pissy about it and fired back at me.




Is it bad I want to respond with: "Your violent protesting is sure a solid" or "Tantrums make everything better" or "Come at me. I'm right here. Will it make you feel better to hit someone?"

 I chose to ignore. Why? Not afraid. Just isn't worth my time. But they can amuse me, none the less.

I know, I'm a sicko.

I thought it was kind of amusing, really. I still find they are so out of touch with reality. And what about this imaginary oppression they are experiencing? What? Like...has anyone made anyone go to the back of the bus? Do they really think we would stand for that and go back to the 60s? Do you really believe that we are going to go backwards on gay rights? WTF, people?

No faith in your fellow man. I was married to a black man and dated several. I'm still close to all of them except my ex husband. I love his family. Do you really think I voted for racism and am a racist? Fuck me in the ass.

Propaganda. Look it up.

Also look up the fact that presidents may hold beliefs, but they don't shove them down the peoples' throats. They let the majority decide.

But of course, anyone who voted for the Orange Movement was all about being a racist and genocide. Egads, we have stooped to such levels. I'm really starting to get a headache over the childish behavior. Do they not realize their rationale and actions do not make logical sense? I don't want to take away their feelings. They can feel anyway they want. But what is all this violence and burning going to change? What happened to peaceful protesting? And wake up, dudes...you can't change the election result. I am to the point that my "Boo hoo" and "Wah fucking wah" is going to come out.

I'll try to keep her contained.

Do you really think a man who is married to an immigrant, whose close friends are Dennis Rodman and Omarosa, and holds his daughter on a pedestal is a racist? Actions, people.

I think he might be a chauvinist with bad hair, surely.

I know. Don't call you Shirley.

It wasn't about agreeing with everything he spouted out. I know this is probably a lone wolf feeling, but I really felt at times I was being held hostage by the bad economy and lack of job opportunities. Did I hate the president? Absolutely not. He didn't do all that damage. Some things were spurred by his agenda but geesh. I blame a lot on Congress and life. I lived through it. Now to live through another presidency. I will plod on.





Be STEEL My Heart

Happy Veterans Day! Thank you for your service~ So much gratitude to all!




Captain's Log: (eek...fat face alert)

Captain Chaos



Day three of the Apocalypse and funny thing is I still have a job and I am still here in body, mind, and spirit. Lacking in the spirits category, however. They frown on me drinking at work.

I am sure all of you have seen some strange and bizarre behaviors from some angry Americans and others over the election. Hell, Mike Rowe even posted about licking a cat. Hilarious. I ranted about those ranting and melting down and then went silent because you can't reason with crazy. It just ain't going to happen.

Meanwhile, I laughed all the way to the bank where my 15 cents is still secure. I hope President-Elect Trump will make it grow. If not, I might give him permission to grab my pussy.

Perhaps I should get a cat before I extend that offer.

My computer screen has a big crack in it from me banging my head at the social media nonsense going around. It's like a train wreck. You can't look away. Several of my Democrat friends (yes, I have many) are posting a petition to demolish the electoral college. Now...hold the show. Didn't it work for Obama? Oh, no. Wait. He won the popular vote AND the electoral vote. See? It worked just perfect that time. But this is a 200 year old election way. We all knew going in it was this way and coming out...well, some got mad. Trump even said before the election, he didn't like the electoral vote way. It also worked for Bush, but maybe the Dems didn't like Al Gore as much as Hillary. I'm not sure which I would trust less. At least Al was not as slick and you could see him coming.

So change it? I don't know. It gives the people a voice. Make it more fair for our future? Sure, go ahead. But I don't want California or Florida to run the show and squish out the little guy it will. But whatever the people want. But you can't make it retroactive.

Let's talk about cops. If you are a user on the Faceplant...go to "Blue Blogs" and like it and follow all of us. Most are current cops. Don't think you can ambush us or target us for hate...we're right here. Come at me, bro!

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me. You, me, and Jesus.

Funny thing about that Jesus character.

So...I also consort with several atheists and agnostics. This one I have who was raised in a spiritual household after his alcoholic father became a born again Christian...has many doubts and some anger toward the Lord. I don't judge. I just listen.

Well, one day last week he was getting pretty full of himself and razzing me pretty good. I razz back, by the way. And then he got a little personal, so I got a lotta personal. I said, "I'm sorry you don't know me. I am a great person. But you don't take the time with your friends to get to know people."

He got a little irritated and threw back, "Bullshit. I'm sorry you don't know me. I'm sorry you don't know anything about mechanics. I'm sorry you don't know Heavy Metal..."

"I'm just sorry you don't know Jesus."

"What?" He looked truly surprised.

"I'm sorry you don't know Jesus. Not going to preach to you, of course, but such a shame. Maybe if you knew him, you wouldn't be so angry. Oh, snap! I said I wasn't going to preach. Psyche!"

Well, that shut him right up. I think I instilled some PTSD he had of his dad forcing him to go to church. Not sure where that train derailed but it sometimes happens. It's a personal choice.

I did apologize to the Lord for using him in a time of strange conversation, but I was serious about the statement even though it was a twisted moment of cracked humor.

Speaking of crack...well...sort of...




Here's a little throwback for you:

Diazepam and alcohol. It's a beautiful thing. Especially behind the wheel. Not once, but twice.

Slumped over the wheel. Engine running. Sample bottles of liquor strewn about the car. The question isn't the state of rest, but how IT got there. By IT, I mean the driver we were about to encounter.

She was thin, olive skinned, and in her 40s. Long scraggly hair, Ed Hardy knock off shirt, and sweats. Looking at her, she had a rough life. It wasn't kind to her. Weathered skin, bags under her eyes, yellowed teeth, bunions on her bare feet. Whoa. Am I describing myself? Snark intended. 

At one time she may have even been a pretty lady. But no longer. Again, is it me? Mirror, mirror...

When she poured out of the Dodge Durango, we could immediately tell she was stoned and drunk. And quite the character. Nasty. She agreed to do field sobriety maneuvers much to our surprise.

OFFICER BIG CHEESE: I am going to demonstrate the Walk and Turn. ..[and he did so]

IT: Ok. [swaying, stumbling in place, then standing still...like a statue...looking down at her feet]

BIG CHEESE: Do you understand?

IT: Yes.

BIG CHEESE : Go ahead and begin whenever you are ready.

And so she did. We walked around the entire block in Hitler high stepping action and back around again. Did we stop her? Hell to the NO! We needed a nice evening stroll and besides...what great video footage!

BIG CHEESE: Ok. Now, I am going to demonstrate the One Leg Stand....[and so he did]

IT: Yep.

BIG CHEESE: Do you understand?

IT: Yep. But I'm ambidextrous and it isn't a fair test.

ME: What?

IT: I'm ambidextrous so this test isn't fair to me. Do you know what ambidextrous means?

ME: [holding back a smile]Yes I do. I think it means you took drugs AND alcohol today before you got behind the wheel. Whether you took them both with your left hand or one in each hand is a mystery to me.

IT: No. [turning to Big Cheese] Do you know what ambidextrous means?

BIG CHEESE: It means you like Mexican food. Now go ahead and begin when you are ready.

IT: You guys are a bunch of Nazis.

ME: What?

IT: Nazis. Like Hitler. This is a Hitler test.

BIG CHEESE: I don't understand what you mean.

IT: Yeah. Hitler. Adolf Hitler. [raising her hands like the swan move in The Karate Kid]

ME: [looking at Big Cheese and shrugging my shoulders] This test is more like the swan from Karate Kid minus the wings...it would  be called the resting swan maneuver. Let me demonstrate.

And so BIG CHEESE and I demonstrated again. She had no clue. She was so stoned out of her head and stuck on Hitler and ambidextrous that she couldn't focus if she tried.


BIG CHEESE: Go ahead if you want to try the test. Whenever you are ready.

IT: [stepping with the left foot out and rotating in a circle, stepping out 6 inches each time.]

ME: What are you doing?

IT: Your test.

ME: Let me demonstrate again. You need to stand in one place, feet together, hands down at your side. Then raise one foot approximately 6 inches off the ground, point your toe, and count outloud. You will be doing this for 30 seconds. Do you understand?

IT: That's what I was doing.

ME: On what planet? I have no idea what that just was. With you...it's like we are world travelers...from Germany to Asia.

IT: You are mean. Hitler. Nazi...all of you. Even that kid...what is he 12. [referring to Lunch Money]

ME: [rolling eyes] He just turned 13.

BIG CHEESE: Do me a favor and turn around and look at that nice Blazer behind you.

IT: Why?

ME: He has some pretty bracelets, but wants to surprise you. So turn around.

IT: Oh, how neat. I like jewelry.

So she got arrested and started to whine about the cops being Nazis. On the way to jail she gave Big Cheese a voodoo curse. I told him it was probably real, because when we did the towing inventory on her vehicle, she had SECRET SOCIETY letters of acceptance and books on code and voodoo curses. I tole him he should heed her warning.

Because she had taken 20 Diazepam and drank who knows how much Vodka, Big Cheese took her to the ER. The place was packed. So...he left her with Security because she was like a wounded fly and not a flight risk. Besides...she did circles. He was to pick her up after 3-4 hours. During the examination waiting time...the security guards stepped away from the rubber room for a few moments...probably to fetch a donut. She escaped. Obtaining another car...she again hit the streets of Gotham City.

DISPATCH: Units...copy for an Accident with Injuries...appears the car is stuck into the bank wall and the driver is trying to run away.

Yep. Sure enough... she ran the car right into one of our bazillion banks. Just so happened to be mine.

ME: Well, you sure are ambidextrous, alright. We have a DUI for your left and right side.

IT: *blink*blink*

It wasn't the first night of double DUIs on the same person. We had three of them. The other two were bonded out by sober drivers and taken home. Then they got into their second vehicles and drove drunk again. It's becoming an epidemic. Pete and Repeat. Ambidextrous or something.




Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Trumpets

Wow.

What a night, eh?

That's my Canadian expression for those of you exporting out of the United States.

I witnessed a historical moment. I might say I am still feeling shocked.

But not sad.


Fear not, my friends, I will have your back. I will also fight for what is good and right. Always. It isn't a side. It is who I am.

I relished in the media anchors shitting in their pants. I had it tuned onto NBC because I hate the network, but love Tom Brokaw. He was loving this unpredictable race while his cohorts were imploding and totally expressing their liberalism all over the screen. They so did not want to put Florida up for Trump and held out until the last possible moment even when Chuck Todd said there was no way for Hillary to win Florida with his calculations. BUT the network big wigs would not have that, I am sure.

And then there was Glen Beck who almost cried on television.

I do feel sad for those who are in such deep despair they can't see the forest through the trees. That must be an uneasy feeling of heavy dread. I did want to hug one of our international students who wept. I can't imagine feeling that way.

I had come to terms with the election weeks ago and thought that if Hillary won, I would survive just like I outlasted the good and bad presidents of the past. I can't last another 4 years of this same economy though unless I want to live in a cardboard box.

Relief came to me last night when the Republicans won the Congressional seat majorities. I knew then at least we could stop any nonsense going into the Supreme Court.

And then tides changed and I saw how America spoke out.



The middle aged white male will not go unheard.

What bothers me the most is the continual swords being thrown from the left and the declaration of racism and all that is evil will prevail. Bull to the shit. Shut the fuck up. Nothing makes me more mad than someone calling me a racist or painting the town with one brush.

Have you no faith in your friends or thy neighbor?

Shame.

Again, the liberals have no touch with reality. I will shove the Establishment and the Elitists right in there with them. That's all I can gather.

The good people of THE LAND are not going to let racism rise up and the office of the President will not stand for that either.

I can say I was impressed by Trump's short but very gracious speech. Maybe everyone will see a different side to him and the Hollywood sensationalism we saw beforehand will subside. He is a marketing expert and has business acumen like no other. So why didn't you think he wouldn't use it?

And no man or woman is perfect. All their flaws come out when public office or any type of celebrity gets a hold of them.

Calm your balls.

Where have all the common sense gone?

I'm OK today.

And I like the fact that the entire world is shaking in its boots and this caused a global panic. That's OK, too.

It doesn't mean anything crazy is going to happen, but they are afraid it will.

Good.

November 8th, 2016,  was a big FUCK YOU to the Establishment, the Elitists, the media, and all others whom we have handed this country over to and have shit in our Wheaties.

I think I will savor my wine.

Tuesday, November 8, 2016

The Dumbest Post Ever

Well.

Here it is.

The day everyone is waiting for to be over.



I have little faith that the process will be what I want it to be. Sometimes the people vote one person in and the electoral votes override that notion. Sometimes it is a blow out. Sometimes it is a recount.

I just hope I am wrong, but if I am not...

I just want Hillary to know that I am expecting her to fix my car. FOR FREE.

Yes.

I am pretty unsettled about the election, but I think I will outlast a president. I certainly won't have either over for dinner. Nah. My house is too good for those kind of folks.

However, I won't outlast the Supreme Court justices. That's what concerns me.

I don't think it matters what our neighbor says or thinks anymore. We are all stuck in our steadfast ways. I do have some thoughts about some of the comments on social media.

Both sides are guilty of REALLY trying the routine of bullying people into changing their mind. Not a little bit, but a lotta bit.  However, I have noticed the Republican friends call the Democrat friends "idiots" and they resort mostly to calling the other side names and declare the liberals are blind and not critical thinkers. I somewhat agree with part of that. Not the idiot part. I watch the Democrat friends put up a barrage of political posts claiming hell, fire, and condemnation to anyone voting for Trump: "YOU ARE REALLY FUCKING DUMB. YOU ARE STUPID."

Just so you don't see it in regular font, they shout it at you. You know what I say to all this BS?

Shame. On. You.

Debate is fine. Arguing is fine, but do it all with facts and don't be pushy or whacked in your verbage attacks. I don't have time for that nonsense. You make everyone resort to violence: DEFRIENDING. BLOCKING.

See how dumb we have gotten?

Please, Lord, help this country.

EXERCISE YOUR FUCKING BRAIN.

That's what I have to say.

I voted for the Supreme Court.

So there.

FUCK YOU, ALL YOU BULLY MOTHER FUCKERS.

Our countrymen and women fought for our right to vote and for your mouth to run. So be it. And you don't even have to vote. I don't care. I would rather have those vote with an informed decision than just vote at all.

But I've had enough.

Every election is important to our country. This was the first true circus. This one really counts for the Supreme Court decisions for the rest of our lives.

I hope you silly social media cyber bully pantie wastes fart out all your nonsense and let all the common sense float back into your head.

That's about it.

Oh, Yeah. I might have to save for some more guns.

Monday, November 7, 2016

Paint Me Crazy

Hello, the house! Why do you guys stick around here? I've been pretty lackadaisical in posting random crazy thoughts to entertain your presence. I apologize.

Life has kind of taken over me and college life has totally consumed me, I am afraid.



Today I am on the Momster hit list with my child. Seems she thinks she can run the place and I took away her after school fun. She does not listen to me when I say ..."It is gone." I said that one week ago. So last week she has been sucking up to me and cleaning the house, right? I didn't even ask. She went above her normal chores. Today she wanted to "remind" me that she is staying after school with her friend on Tuesday and Thursday to lift weights and workout at the school gym. She claims she wants to be stronger for track in April. I believe this is just a social hour for teenagers as there are several teen buddies there. Why?  Because she has a nice garage gym at home. Paint me crazy.



Well, it took 1.6 seconds for her to turn right back into Satan after I told her, "No. You lost that privilege. That means for good. Perhaps you could make a permanent change in respecting your mom. We can revisit the idea next semester."

Wow. Satan threatened me with "her dad". I said, "Go ahead. He isn't here, is he? What will he say? Hmm...that you can workout at home? Why don't you try that."

So yeah. I guess at least the teenager battles continue to remain a constant in my household.

I fall in love with my dogs more and more so every day. Men...well, you know. I can't seem to meet the one who will treat me right and I am constantly a giver, attracted to takers.

Whiskey-tango-foxtrot.

Anyhoozle, this semester is almost over and I am on the verge of an anxiety attack from all the deadlines and big papers due soonly. Paint me crazy. Wait, didn't I say that already?

The election is upon us. Hope you all vote the way your informed decision takes you!

Happy Monday!