The Boogie Man Is My Friend...

Buggin' Out

2012-01-28T19:41:00.000-08:00

BUG: Mom, can I tell you something personal and you promise not to laugh?

ME: Yes, honey.

BUG: I have hair.

ME: *blink*blink*

BUG: [points to hoohah] Down there.

ME: Well, that's puberty, dear. You will get lots and it starts to invade and it crawls up to your belly button and grow into your armpits and stuff. Before you know it, you will have a mustache.

BUG: Ew..GROSS!

ME: Well, maybe not that bad. Maybe Mom was exaggerating a little.

BUG: I HATE PUBERTY. [stomps off]

ME: That makes two of us. Oy.

I Hanta You Down

2012-01-28T09:14:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was crap. I mean, literally.

It snowed. The roads were icy but I had to go to town for a meeting.

I fired up the truck and headed en route to the Gotham City. The Red Coats had put up a new gate into my property to prevent people from going onto my land. As I came through the gate, the tires hit the ice and my side mirror hit the post. #@$!!@#@

Thank God for breakaway side mirrors.

After about 2 miles, I felt the Gold Beast had an odor coming from the heater that alarmed me. It was familiar to me as a country girl, but not familiar in the truck. I had just driven it the day before with no problems. It smelled like MOUSE poo. Ugh.

I had imagined some mice had made a nasty nest and shat in the air filter or engine overnight. Now I was cooking them and their poo. I was going to die a slow, painful death.

I kept going and decided it would all cook out or blow out and I had already been exposed, so what was the difference?

Reaching town, I decided to use a gift certificate I had received for Christmas to Starbucks. I got up to the order mic and placed my order.

ME: I would like a venti Caramel Machiatto and a bacon sandwich.

SB LADY: What?

ME: I would like a venti Caramel Machiatto and a bacon sandwich.

SB LADY: What? Lady I can't hear you.

ME: I WOULD LIKE A VENTI CARAMEL MACHIATTO AND A BACON SANDWICH.

SB LADY: I'M SORRY I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER YOUR TRUCK!!

ME: I'M SORRY I CAN'T SHUT IT OFF OR I CAN'T GET IT STARTED AGAIN!

SB LADY: OK! YOU WANT A CARAMEL MACHIATTO AND WHAT ELSE?

ME: A BACON SANDWICH!

SB LADY: OK! A CARAMEL MACHIATTO AND A BACON SANDWICH?

ME: YES!

SB LADY: OK

ME: THANK YOU and I will add a free throat chop when I get to the window.

I ordered a Caramel Machiatto coffee and an Artisan bacon breakfast sandwich. The Gold Beast was loud. It was an old diesel. However, the glow plugs and connector had gone out and so I had to plug it in to start it and let it run when I was in town or plug it in at the station when I worked. PAIN in the arse. But to fix it was $1,000 and I didn't have it at the time, so for a month, it's been a challenge. Now I had the Hanta virus in the engine. OY.

Cough, cough. That stuff smelled like shit.

When I got to the window, I received my coffee and they said, "Thank you, goodbye" and I drove off... without my BACON SANDWICH! Ugh.

So...I turned around and got back in line...which was over 500 feet long. Waiting, waiting....

SB LADY: HI, can I help you?

ME: Yes, I was just in the drive thru and drove off without my bacon sandwich.

SB LADY: Yes. THERE YOU ARE! We will have it at the window.

ME: Thank you!

Soo....I waited and waited...

Finally! I was handed my bacon sandwich and drove off, thanking the kooky Starbucks lady.

As I rounded the corner of the building, I took my bacon sandwich out of the wrapping and took a bite.

POOEY, pooey. I spit it out. It was HORRIBLE bacon. WTH? And the bread was not right.

I looked down.

SAUSAGE English muffin sandwich.

I HAD BEEN ROBBED!

They F-U thru the drive-thru. Words to remember from the great Joe Pesci.

Deflated I had used my gift certificate and couldn't buy another sandwich....I decided to buck up and eat the sausage English Muffin. I turned up the heat and sucked in the Hanta Virus while munching on my terrible breakfast sandwich.

So started my day...

STRIPPING THE PIGSKIN

2012-01-26T09:45:00.000-08:00

The title says it all...exposing NFL MAN and exposing me. Not naked. Just giving you a link. Hope you enjoy the blog and check it out if you wish.

Getting ready for Superbowl....I got outfitted by one of my best buds with jewelry and clothing from her shop...I'm going to model it all for her biz. So excited. I get to look like a girl!

Exposure time. Pics of the Superbowl and our Chicago and Indy fun will be posted on my man's blog....so here he is....

BIG SEXY, I call him. Come join us next week! Live on the radio!

Question the PoPo

2012-01-25T12:55:00.000-08:00

Long time coming...but here are the answers to your questions...

1. How long do you think you can keep up with the physical demands of police work and do you think there is a certain age it's too old to be on patrol? Does your department make everyone top-down pass the physical fitness test?

Answer:

I really don't know the answer to the first part. I don't think you can put an age on it, it is individual. Some people are just more athletically inclined and healthy to last longer in the job. It takes a good disciplined person to make a healthy lifestyle choice to stay alert, educated, and fit for the job. For me, it is EXTREMELY challenging to keep up with the physical demands. I was made to be athletic, but the upper body strength is always something I have to work extra hard on. BUT---I am a scrapper. LOL.

Yes, our department makes all sworn officers Chief to Patrol take the test.

2. What do you see as the upcoming problem in your community or nationwide as far as crime?

Answer:

The decline of pride, ambition, and positive direction in our kids. It worries me. I also want to give every smart ass punk kid The People's Elbow or a good spanking when I run into them. LOL. Kidding. Well, sort of. There are a lot of good kids, but I see such a flood of youngsters dropping out of school and having no direction or drive for their own futures.

3. What is it like to be a mother and a cop?

Answer:

Challenging. I feel I miss out on a lot with my Bug. However, I have to make what time we have together the best quality time for her. I long to be a "regular" mom quite often and dread the days I miss out on her activities or events. They grow up too fast and life is too short. So...in general..I think we have to make the best of every moment and not take it for granted. I always have room to improve as a mother.

4. Why do you like Madea so much?

Answer:

Helller? WHAT?!?! You question me?

There is a message to Madea's madness..and..I wish I was half her madness. LOL. If you don't like Madea...you haven't watched the movies which are made with a Christian base. They are hilarious with a moral to the story. Much to my favorite are also Fireproof and Courageous. However, Madea is top notch. Crime, ghetto situations and all economic bases reaching out to get out of life troubles, humor, and a positive message. LOVE, LOVE, my Madea. Hell to the Yeah!

5. Do you really like to drive fast?

Answer: Duh. That's all I have to say about that.

6. What is it like to train new officers? Do you ever get burned out?

Answer:

It is bittersweet. I enjoy training new officers and I hope I leave them with a good impression and the right tools to be a good officer. I do, however, like my own car...and it's hard for me to stand by while someone else does the work.

Yes. We all suffer burnout at some time or another. Sometimes it's temporary, sometimes it's permanent. When you train constantly...you get taxed mentally and need a break at times. It's also something that happens when you are in the same position for long periods of time. Sometimes we need a new challenge like being promoted, or moving to another division,a new assignment, or a good case to investigate. That's the beauty of law enforcement...it's always changing and never stagnant, so there are a lot of opportunities.

7. Why are you so jaded at times? Do you really say those things to people you encounter?

Answer:

Law enforcement officers will tell you everyone experiences THE JADE. You can't help but get some on you when you are exposed to what we are exposed to day in and day out. Is it good or bad? I think it depends on how each individual handles things. We become harsh and cynical. Part of that attitude is a mechanism to protect us and make us depersonalize the tragedy we see so we can deal with it and do our job. Another part of that makes us almost too far from being a normal person. We can't ever get that part of us back that takes over after we have been exposed to horrible things. I call that our Pandora's box. We are forever "tarnished" mentally and will always see things differently. Yet, we can still be compassionate and human. We can't turn back time and erase what we have seen, smelled, or been exposed to. At the same time, we also need to hold onto our humanity. It's a constant battle police deal with within ourselves. The strong survive.

HELL TO THE YES..to the other part of the question. I say it. Sometimes it's recorded. Sometimes I get a call from the Captain. Most often even the bad guys I say things to never complain. They know it's the truth.

Thanks to everyone who submitted questions!! If you have more...send them to my email and when I get enough, I will post another Q & A!

Condition Black

2012-01-24T22:14:00.000-08:00

I am a cop. In fact, the mindset is 24/7...which is also the same mindset that I usually deal with things on a personal level as well. I deal with things head on. I talk about them. I talk problems out with a person. In a relationship, I tend to also be upfront and honest, wearing my heart on my sleave... after the initial walls are put up. Once the walls are stripped down, Fargo is a girl. TO THE MAX. Remember also, according to Lt. Col. Dave Grossman...cops almost always function in CONDITION YELLOW. I'm a cop. REVELATION!!! (kidding)

If you think about it....cops are always the HUNTERS and THE HUNTED. We go after bad guys...they want to kill us. So...we are always at a CONDITION YELLOW. Unless I am asleep in my bed..nah..still YELLOW...bc I have a gun next to me or under me or beside me or in the closet...well, you get the idea. I like to CHARGE into a problem. It takes a lot to set me off, but when Ir reach my limit of crapola...and I do...it's fully automatic spray out of a high powered rifle type shit.

Why is this important? Because I will tell you about the ONE BIG THING that drives me crazy about NFL MAN. I call it...PROCRASTINATING PROBLEM SOLVE-ATION.

NFL MAN is a regular guy who does not wish to delve into any cop world or know of any sorts of problems society faces. He grew up in the PROJECTS so he does not want to hear of any POPO news. You would think he is in CONDITION YELLOW being from THE HOOD. Exact opposite. He's comfortable there. It's his PEEPS. Although he never got into the HOOD world as a kid, he lived in it. He had good parents. End of question to why he has upstanding ways. His parents were not on DRUGS, they were on GOD...and they were/are preachers.

NFL MAN is so very normal and so very nice, yet there is a hard ass inside him. He only wants to hear the words "FINE" or "GOOD" when he asks me about my day. He is also sensitive, like a regular citizen only with an athlete's mindset in the sports arena. He does not like anything negative. He deals with his problems by thinking about them, taking a step back, or taking a time out until he cools off before he talks about something...or even uses the dreaded SILENT TREATMENT. Have in mind, most citizens are in CONDITION WHITE. He's a kind citizen. He likes to RETREAT and/or THINK about a problem first.

(Lt. Col. Dave Grossman's Heart Rate model, modified by MF)

Here is some NFL MAN/MOMMA FARGO relationship history...

NFL MAN likes to golf.

I think golf is a blatant misuse of a perfectly good rifle range or obstacle pistol course.

NFL MAN likes greasy hot dogs, hamburgers and Southern fried foods. I prefer seafood, Prime Rib, and Noosa yogurt.

He likes Bud Light Lime. I like red wine.

He pets cattle. I eat cattle.

He enjoys the green grass on the football field and prefers it over astro turf. I enjoy the green grasses of Wyoming and could give a shit about astro turf, other than I hope it's recycled plastic.

He DESPISES anything organic.

I love shopping organic.

I am a hermit, recluse, and non-people person off duty and love to be at home relaxing. I love to eat at home, spend time with the BUG, and my pets.

He is a social butterfly, loves to be out in an event, eat out, and also loves to spend time with the BUG. He is a people person and will talk to strangers. (Obviously, his mother did not teach him STRANGER DANGER). He knows THE HOOD, yet could party with The President.

Despite our opposites, we have a lot in common and enjoy each other tremendously. We enjoy each other's opposite attractions as well.

We had our first fight.

You can imagine the events. We went from Condition White to Condition Black in 2.4 seconds.

Something significant happened in NFL MAN's life and I was not there for him. At least that was his perception. When he first told me the problem, I laughed. BAD. Then when I realized he was serious, I sympathized with him. My perception is I gave a set of possible solutions and went to bed. BAD. He felt I didn't support him and he could not call upon me because now I was sleeping. I thought I gave good problem solving advice and with him in CHICAGO and me in Wyoming, I didn't know what else to do..except rattle off some possible solutions and go to bed. BAD.

Thus, began two days of phone fighting.

Most often people talk things out. I like to talk. He likes to retreat.

It went a little like this...(Yes, I know...it's not BEEL's great artwork or ED's Stickman drawing, but it's MF Eggpeople pictograph style...I call ELLIPTO-PEEPS)...

I wanted to talk. He did not. I kept asking to talk. He did not want to.

Normal fights start out with little pokes here and there after our feelers are initially hurt.

We did our little jousting and "you this" and "you thats", and NANNY, NANNY poopoos.

Once the POPO feels it gets personal and escalating into the DARKNESS...well, anyone that knows me... KNOWS me. I let it all out. When I reach my point, I EXPLODE. I try not to say things I will regret. However, that is not always the case. OR, I word things wrong...or I spittle when I am upset and while sorta yelling and I may slip into the abyss... the dreaded HYSTERIA crying because I am mad stage.

Most often, I am calm. I like to save my yelling for work victims, not love victims. Except during these rare explosion times, I only yell at work or at the dog when he's chasing cats or eating my shampoo.

Condition Black takes over all of us one time or another in our lives. Believe it or not, it often comes out in relationships plastered all over the ones we love, not the dog.

So...let's say...NFL MAN brought a pistol to a fully automatic rifle fight. Because he's nice. And I'm the POPO. I'm prepared. And I'm a little bit girl, a little bit bitch. He's a football player dancing around me, singing..."YOU CAN'T TOUCH THIS." I'm the WARRIOR going to take YOU DOWN.

You can imagine the "gun" fight.

I think I even said he had a purple dog. And he doesn't EVEN have a dog. That's Condition Black.

Pretty soon, we didn't know what set off the first bullet, except our feelers were hurt. Both of us. And then we both retreated into silence for awhile. He put his pistol away. I put my rifle away.

After a bit, I didn't know how we got there, but I didn't like it. He didn't like it either. Neither of us could take anything back. WE ended it without hating each other, just really, really miffed. We didn't want to do that EVER again.

But...we did what adults do and said, "I'm sorry."

And that was it.

That's love.

January 21-Something Cracks the PoPo

2012-01-22T10:18:00.000-08:00

It's hard not to get romantic about the west. Gentle rains in January, the crisp smell of sagebrush, green grass (yes, green grass!), and 70 mile an hour winds. The good thing is we don't have to rake leaves out here. We just wait for the wind in winter to blow them to Nebraska.

After 6:00 PM, the winds were almost nil at my house. With the warm 50s we have been having, the snow was melted and the ground was beginning to thaw. The only proper fashion were my mucking boots.

NFL MAN called me three times today just to say, "I love you. You mean so much to me. I'm thinking about you." That was on top of the other conversations we had throughout the day. Those were the JUST BECAUSE phone calls. I have never had anyone care so much about me before and it feels REAL. It comforts me.

The day was weird. I went to work. I did my job. I looked at the board after doing a church burglary and viewed the calls holding. Same old, same old. I've been sick for 3 weeks. Partially the gunk getting passed around combined with stress. I got very sick and left after 8 hours of work. At 44, is it a normal feeling to question yourself and wonder how long you are going to be a cop? It's like coming to the end of your sports career.

Maybe I long to do something else.

A dark cloud started to work its way over the cliffs, but it was still warm. I don't know why, but I just had the urge to take off. It was muddy. Yep. I ran in my mucking boots. I don't know how far I ran, but I just kept going. My mind was blank. (Yeah. Laugh here, but it was. I was just at peace.)

The gentle breeze felt good on my face and the sound of the river was peaceful. The air was dense and the night was so quiet, the only disrupting noise to the nature sounds was the sound of my boots squishing in the mud or splashing in the puddles as I ran along the river. After passing the alfalfa fields, I turned around and ran back home.

It was refreshing.

Flower Power

2012-01-19T17:34:00.000-08:00

Tweens.

What. In. The. Hell. Do. You. Do. With. Them?

They take up space. They sass. They yell. They stomp. They wear tiaras. They eat all the food.

Fuck.Me.In.The.Ass. Seriously.

ME: Quit that fake smile crap.

BUG: What! You don't love me? [stomp, pout]

ME: Don't be ridiculous. I just want a nice picture, not that fake smile you always do.

BUG: [stomping off]Nice, Mom! You don't like my pictures. Moms are supposed to like everything of a kid. Maybe you can solve that by not taking any pictures of me for the rest of my life. [slams bedroom door]

ME: Nice.

I can do better with a meth addict who is running around in the street naked, frothing at the mouth, yelling, "Tebow for President!"

Bug's hair looked so cute so I wanted a nice picture. All she could do was that fake smile crap. We all hate it. She grits her teeth and smiles gargantuan and looks like a nitwit. Good thing we have digital cameras now days. She certainly would waste the expensive 35 mm just to get one good pic. And not only was she fake posing to be uncooperative, she had words to back up her body language sass afterwards.

This after I chased my garbage all over Timbuktu and struggled with a large piece of cardboard. Word. Don't get dog kennels for Christmas...in boxes. Thanks, Santa.

There I was trudging up the driveway after tugging the box out of the sagebrush. Did you know sagebrush has fingers and it wants everything. Instead of Swamp Thing around here, it's Prairie Thing. It's almost as bad as tumble weeds. They are like venus fly traps only different. Do you know how temped I was to let it blow into the river and float to Nebraska? Yeah.

Although if I had done that, some hobo would have tried to fish it out of the river thinking it would have made a good addition to his house and then he would have fallen in the river and drowned. Then I would have been a murderer. Orange is not my color. And it wouldn't even have made a good book because it was too short of a story. Maybe a Law & Order episode.

So...how did I get from Tweens to Murder? Simple. They go together. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it.

She decided to come out of her room...

BUG: Mom, tomorrow is nerd day.

ME: Well, then you won't have to dress up.

BUG: [stomp, yell] Mom, I am not a nerd. I don't have any glasses![stomp, run to room, slam door]

ME: Sweet.

Really. Walking across fire to bring 100 pounds of food to starving African children would be easier.

Apparently, I am learning tweens run to their room, slam the door, have some revelation and come out with more mouth or a new con game.

BUG: You don't even love me, do you?

ME: Of course I do.

BUG: Well you don't like my smile and now I'm a nerd.

ME: Nerds with fake smiles need love too.

BUG: Mom! I shouldn't have to put up with this in my life! [stomp, run to room, slam door shut]

ME: [big cheesy grin]

BUG: [yelling from room with closed door] I know you are smiling out there! God still loves me!

ME: Yes. God still loves Tebow, too.

BUG: Mom! I'm not Tebow!

ME: I know. Otherwise I would be saying these things to you with diamonds on and drinking a large bottle of the best red wine..naked.

BUG: Ew. You are so gross! Why do I have to have such a gross mother?!!??! [opens and slams door for effect]

So...I have come to find how you save the world from countless murders. You torture your tweens any chance you get. You get even. Because right now old and wit beats young and sass any day....no matter how cute they are. And after all that...I got one sorta good pic...with a fake smile.

After opening the door and dragging her feet, she came out one more time.

BUG: Do you even still love me?

ME: Of course I do.

BUG: You better not put any of those dumb pictures on the blog, only the good ones.

ME: Ok, honey.

BUG: I'm serious.

ME: [big cheesy smile]

Someday, I will pay for all this when she wheels me right into the river and inherits my riches. Perhaps I will invest in a Chia Pet farm. Just sayin'. It would be like bonsai therapy for her only different.

Dumbing Down

2012-01-17T21:21:00.000-08:00

In the car with my friend's teenager, I had me a little chat. She was down about moving into high school with all the "big shot jockettes" all trying out for the volleyball and basketball teams. Her self confidence is up and down and the teenage years take their toll on the ego, with a little peer pressure moving in. This is what I said...

ME: You can do anything you set your mind to do...even if it is hard, or you have to challenge yourself. Things don't always come easy. When you work for them, you appreciate things more than when everything is handed to you.

ALLI: Yeah. Those girls are really good, tho.

ME: Big deal. For instance, when I entered high school, you can pretty much bet the juniors and seniors and some sophomores were better than me. Same for you. BETTER PLAYERS make YOU better. You want to surround yourself with the competition. If you played with a bunch of low caliber nitwits, you would only be as good as the team is as a whole. You might even be the hot shot of the team, but you are just the head nitwit. Does that make sense?

ALLI: Kinda.

ME: Ok. So...if you play with high caliber athletes, you will be better to try to reach their level, or exceed them. You only make yourself better by surrounding yourself and challenging yourself with the best. Otherwise, mediocre is the best you will achieve.

ALLI: I guess you're right.

ME: See. Case in point. If you surround yourself with ME, you will be a GENIUS.

ALLI: [giggling]

ME: You can do anything you want. It might not be easy, but it is possible. The most important thing is you know how to get there and have the determination to see it to fruition.

ALLI: I see what you mean.

ME: Uh oh.

ALLI: What?

ME: I just had a thought.

ALLI: What?

ME: If I challenge myself with the best criminals, does that mean I am the best cop? What if I work with the best cops? I will make myself better to reach their level. We can all challenge each other. One big happy family. Cops and robbers. It was a simple concept when we were little, but we had no idea what we were doing. To catch a criminal, you have to think like one.

ALLI: That makes no sense.

ME: What's worse is if I keep surrounding me with these criminals of late, I am dumbing down.

ALLI: [giggle]

ME: I don't think that concept works for my job.

2011 In Retrospect

2012-01-17T09:59:00.000-08:00

Big year. Little progress. Or was it?

Crime always progresses, but does the House of Popo ever get ahead?

Work Goals reached:

1. Physical fitness achieved. For now. The Chief is raising the standards in a year. AGAIN. Beat me.
2. Training and schools updated.
3. Stayed out of BIG trouble.
4. Equipment updated and always in working order.
5. Remembered to bring gun to work everyday.
6. Put lots of bad guys in jail.

2012 WORK GOALS:

1. Keep up the physical fitness level and increase level a notch.
2. Figure out what I want to be when I grow up.
3. Catch more bad guys.
4. Figure out what I want to be when I grow up.

Personal Goals reached:

1. Be a better MOM.
2. Fitness and nutrition became my lifestyle.
3. Put the house up for sale.
4. Learned to live on little means.
5. Learned to lean on friends and family.
6. Find myself. [I'm a lost person]

New 2012 [carryover] PERSONAL GOALS yet to achieve:

1. Fitness and Nutrition lifestyle in remission for over 5 years. [Then it truly is a part of me. :)]
2. Financial means in order.
3. Work one job instead of two.
4. Get organized.
5. Visit family and friends out of state more often.
6. SELL MY PLACE!

7. Love my neighbors as long as they aren't the criminals I arrest.
8. Continue to make the Earth green and pretty. Bedazzle it with Momma Fargo flavor.
9. Be a better friend.

Whew! That took so much thought, I'm going to bed to prepare for my last night shift. Days here I come. Ugh...

So what are your goals?

Door Number 4

2012-01-16T16:17:00.000-08:00

When we transport a prisoner to the jail, the holding cells are always the closest thing to Make A Deal we can get. Door Number 1. Door Number 2...or Door Number 3.

And so on.

What was behind Door Number 1 was a screaming drunk yelling, "suck my dick". No. It wasn't Demi Moore.

Door Number 2 held a window licker who had left smear marks all the way down the glass window and landed propped up against the door...passed out.

And Door Number 3 was a high female from a nearby suburb brought in by the local small town police force...of two. Together. Like she was from the Exorcist or something. She creeped me out so much I had to browse down the line past all 10 doors which mostly held normal quiet prisoners.

Then something caught my attention at Door Number 4.

It was like a train wreck...you couldn't look away. My face...was like this....only worse like...or a combination of the two with more turned up lips and face cockeyed...disgust showing like fire in my eyes and written all over my face.

Beyond Door Number 4 was Zach Galafinakis "tweeting his nipples". Yep. New concept. A hairy man...naked...rubbing his nipples and yelling..."don't you want me, bitch," followed by "tweet, tweet," as he pinched one nipple and then the other. Don't ask me what makes a person do that. How many of you men out there do that in front of a mirror? Come on. For real. I know you do it.
Yippee for rubber duckies...in the right spots.

Anydisturbing, I don't make this shit up, I just write about it.

DEPUTY DAWG: Yep.. That one's been in here for two hours doing weird shit like that. Try being in our position at the front desk.

ME: Why don't you move him to the end, so he isn't in your line of sight?

DEPUTY DAWG: Who wants to open that door? Or get that close to "NAKED MAN". We will wait until he sobers up tomorrow and hopefully puts his nipples and nakedness away.

ME: Lordt, help you.

DEPUTY DAWG: Thanks, Fargo. We need all the help we can get. Tonight is freak night at the jail. Where do you get these guys?

ME: Oh, we're having a contest on the street. Didn't you hear? [big cheesy grin]

Just then the book in room door flung open and in came 5 deputies dragging another drunk fighter.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: Fargo, I think I got you beat. Look what the deputies drug in.

ME: Oh, probably so. But I don't think you can beat Door Number 4. [pointed to the sight]

OFFICER BILLBOARD: What the fuck?

ME: Yep. Don't know.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: What is it?

ME: Not sure.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: I'm going to throw up.

ME: Yep. Me too.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: Why can't we look away?

ME: Pretty sure our brains are trying to absorb what our eyes are beholding.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: We are never going to be the same.

ME: Nope. Another image for Pandora's box.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: DON'T EVER open it again.

ME: Nope.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: Why can't we look away?

ME: It's mesmerizing, isn't it?

OFFICER BILLBOARD: Ewww.

ME: Let's go tell everyone so they come up here.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: Sweet! Poison the troops!

Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner!

2012-01-15T17:35:00.000-08:00

There are two winners for the Zach Pullen book...sooo...Bug decided both of them get a book. Below is the super genius that guessed which one in the pic was NFL MAN from a few posts back. I've emailed her to send the winning book.

Tennessee Grammie

However, Bug thought another reader was also right because it was hard to tell which row NFL MAN was in, so she awarded JOSEPH a book also.

Joseph...I need you to email me at mommafargo@gmail.com so I can get your mailing address.

CONGRATULATIONS!!!!

Now...next topic of discussion...I've had a lot of emails with questions about the cop world, equipment, health, fitness, and danger. If you are interested in MF answering some questions...leave them in comments or email me and this weekend, I will provide the answers for all to see.

Also...watch for Women Warriors coming out in MARCH!

I have a story in there.

Yes, my anonymous identity is revealed.

However, MF is NOT attached to the information, so you might have to guess which one I am.

Confessions of a Suicidal Policewoman

2012-01-10T12:53:00.000-08:00

When they call my name in the airport it usually isn't to tell me that I got a free flight and moved to first class. It's a bump, cancellation, or standby.

When I went to the counter with my book in hand, I smiled apprehensively at the airline employee. She looked at my book, looked up at me, looked at my book...then smiled weakly and asked, "Officer Fargo, you aren't carrying today on the flight, are you?"

I'm forever plagued since 2004 when I carried my bullet proof vest and firearm on the plane for a homicide case I was working which took me across the United States and back. Of course, I had been screened and approved. That one day...made me flagged forever. My luggage gets torn apart and tagged. I get body searched.

I politely told her I was not carrying on the plane this day. Relief spread across her face. If you can't trust a cop, who can you trust? What was the big deal? Was it the book?

It was the same look I got when I whipped out my book to read while guarding a prisoner at the hospital while he lay there after surgery not long ago. Officer Friday gave me a double take. The nurses asked me if I needed to check myself in for an evaluation and commented my job must be getting the best of me after 15 years. We all chuckled. Then, I held up the book and told them it was a great read and they should pick one up on Amazon. Curiosity killed them, of course, and they perused the book. I share like that. That's what good books are for...sharing and enjoying. This book was a page turner.

I think I'm developing a crush on Michael Beckett.

It's true.

Thomas Fitzsimmon's Confessions of a Suicidal Policewoman is jam packed with action, twists and turns, and mystery. Michael Beckett is back for another drama to unfold and someone has to wear his handcuffs. Murder. Drugs. Not only is it a dynamic police investigation which keeps your attention, it's better than the first in the series. Fitzsimmon's takes you on a gamutt of police work leading to an ending which will surprise you.

Not your typical finish.

Beckett continues his fight against evil, tangled with his affection for women, and being taunted with offers of police corruption.Yet, Beckett is good. It's like being at the kegger parties in high school and the joint gets passed to you, but you pass because you don't do drugs. Do you turn in your friends, or do you ignore the illegal activity? Or something like that. Beckett's ethics prevail against temptations as he continues to follow the leads to solving high crimes.

His partner was deceased. Perhaps there was a new girl in town.

Not only is it a great police story, it parallels reality. Ethics. Professionalism. Investigation. Mystery. His cop attitude. His attraction to the wrong women-because it isn't me. The bond of the brotherhood. Corruption. Affection for your partner. Putting the bad guys in jail. Basically, it's good old-fashioned cop work with the insides turned out.

Thomas Fitzsimmons gets better and better. His colorful descriptions take you to the moment to experience the smells, the sites, the road to fighting crime and getting the bad guy.

You can't put it down.

Even if you are in a blue uniform with a shiny brooch pin in a hospital holding a book titled, Confessions of a Suicidal Policewoman, or at the airport getting ready to board your flight engrossed in the pages.

I like Michael Beckett best on my sofa with a class of red wine next to my fireplace.

******************************************************
The more I know about Thomas Fitzsimmons, the more I like him. Plus, he wears a "white hat" and rides a great horse into the sunset. He's just like that only more fantastic. Maybe you would be surprised to know he also drinks 6 cups of coffee in the morning which is almost equal to my pot of coffee, gets on the computer, writes, and answers emails. He has an identical twin brother, (a retired cop) which he says they are very close. I wonder if he ever switches his brother for himself on his jobs to get a vacation? Nah, he's too professional for that.

He answered my questions this morning...

MF: Your life has gone from cop to celebrity status over the years. Were there times you ever missed being a cop or wanted to go back into the uniform and why or why not?

TF: No. I’ve never missed being “in the bag.” The reasons: I still do police work of sorts. When I’m not writing, I’m a private investigator and bodyguard. Plus I still socialize almost exclusively with cops; they’re the only people who understand me and who I trust. (If I get drunk I’ll even hang out with a firefighter or two J) Also, I hire many of the guys I worked with on the NYPD, as well as many young, active duty cops. So I feel like I’m still in the mix.

MF: What's sitting on your coffee table right now?

TF:   The New York Times Book Review. Although, since they’ve conned me several times with great reviews of lousy, unreadable books, why I continue to read it is beyond me.

MF: Out of all the accomplishments in your life, what are you most proud of and why?

TF: For obvious reasons, staying sober on St. Patrick’s Day—well, sort of.

MF: Do you believe in the age old belief that good will prevail over evil, or will it be a battle that continues but never won? What do you see in law enforcement now that has changed for the good and what has declined?

TF: I believe in the old adage: All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. Which is why I became a cop; to do something. And there was no greater pleasure then catching some SOB in the act of committing an armed robbery, or felonious assault on a female or child, and being in the position to “take care of business.”

However evil will always be with us. And so the battle will continue. I don’t think much has changed systemically, in the NYPD over the years, although the young cops would most probably dispute that. They idolized the “gun slingers” I worked with in the old days and think we operated unsupervised; which we didn’t. But cops will always be cops. And the powers that be will always cut slack to the guys like me who worked the really high crime areas.

The only thing I think has a negative effect is the film and TV industries insistence on showing the bad guys disrespecting the police. In real life you disrespect a cop and, well, your day will most probably take a turn for the worse.

MF: What do you do for fun?

TF: My work is my fun. How cool is that? There’s nothing in the world I’d rather do then work on a book, or pick up a juicy criminal investigation, or spend time with my bosses, Michael Douglas & Catherine Zeta Jones.

4th Down and Goal

2012-01-10T07:24:00.000-08:00

NFL MAN and I have had quite the discussions...

NFL MAN: You know what drives me nuts about you?

ME: What?

NFL MAN: You don't sit still.

ME: Huh?

NFL MAN: You don't relax. You are always doing something. Just come sit with me.

ME: Ok.

NFL MAN: *blink* blink*

ME: *blink*blink*

NFL MAN: *blink*blink*

ME: What are we waiting for?

NFL MAN: What?

ME: What's are we doing?

NFL MAN: We aren't DOING anything. We are sitting here holding hands.

ME: *blink*blink*

NFL MAN: *blink*blink*

ME: Want to wrestle?

NFL MAN: See what I mean?

ME: It was just a question.

NFL MAN: Woman. Sit. Still.

***************

NFL MAN: I don't know how anyone would let you go? The men in your life, except me, must have been stupid.

ME: Exactly. [big cheesy grin]

NFL MAN: So what attracts you to stupid men? [big cheesy grin]

ME: I don't know. What does that say about you?

NFL MAN: *blink*blink*

ME: I have a serial problem as you say.

NFL MAN: No. I'm the exception. [big cheesy grin]

NFL MAN: I'm serious. You are so wonderful. I don't understand why anyone would let you go.

ME: [big cheesy grin] Hallmark moment.

NFL MAN: No. I didn't get paid for that one. [big cheesy grin] You are the best.

ME: Thank you.

NFL MAN: Wait! It's because your kookoo, isn't it?

ME: *blink*blink*

**************************************

NFL MAN: You know who you remind me of out here in the woods and at work?

ME: Who?

NFL MAN: Fargo. I think that's what I'm going to call you.

ME: *blink*blink* Funny you should say that.

NFL MAN: Why? You remind me of her.

Soop, Soup, SUPERBOWL!

2012-01-09T11:08:00.000-08:00

Adding 50 decline pushups and 50 incline situps every morning to my Crossfit workouts, ( http://crossfit.com/ ) I am finding my way back to myself after a long holiday of weighted down eating and celebrating. Beat me. NFL MAN is a BAD influence because he CELEBRATES, celebrates, celebrates and top notch! Steaks, lobster, shrimp, blah, blah! His spoiling me rotten led to me showing the spoilage...on my fat ass.

I might look like this...only white...BIG SEXY...

OK. Maybe not BIG Momma, but I FEEL like that.

I look like this...

"Forging Elite Fitness"...bite me, I'm tired. Officer Shiny Keys will tell you I am the most determined whiny workout person. WTF? I asked him what that means. He said I am so determined to do the exercises and do a great job, but I WHINE about the toughness of the workout. Who says?

Ok. So I do. I'm old AND tired. Dammit.

My News Years Resolution...NO WORKOUT WHINING. My BFFs would say that NO WHINING is a HUGE feat to accomplish and if that happens, WOW! I'm SuperFABULOUS. I don't do NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS. Why?

Because I think it is setting yourself up for failure. My MOTTO: JUST DO IT! Get off your ass and do it!

Long ago, I had to tell myself that and it worked. I stopped setting goals of so many pounds in NUMBERS or a GOAL WEIGHT and just started with 2 week goals of staying on a good eating plan and making sure I went to the gym. Even if I just showed up, it made me feel better. Pretty soon, I had to work out because I showed up. Then..WALLAH! My body changed and I got more muscular and stronger. I could actually keep up with the bad guys without losing a lung...or worse.

NOW...it's the way I want to be..it's my lifestyle.

Shredded 4 pounds this last week. NOW...to add 100 kettleball squats after my last meal.

I still can't get rid of my JLO booty.

However, NFL MAN likes it!

(TMI-sorry)

I, myself, would like to model myself after Jamie Eason...

~~She's so hot, I would do her!~~

~~Yep, I would!~~

SUPERBOWL BOD and POLICE FITNESS TEST here I come!

We Don't Do Fashion

2012-01-06T15:13:00.000-08:00

Sometimes we run into people that by their mere existence irritate us. Why is that so? We are supposed to be non-judgemental (whoa) and full of grace.

Officer Friday and I had taken a call where an elderly woman had been beaten up by her daughter who was an alcoholic and on a binge. The woman had MS and was about 75 years old. She wore depends. Her daughter had been her caretaker for years and was in and out of trouble, a drunk, 49 years old. Her son in law was reporting the crime, crying, and telling the woman it was time to tell the truth.

She was bruised, cut, and beaten. The house was in disarray with several things broken and the phone ripped from the wall. It was apparent the house was normally neat and tidy. While calling 911, the daughter took the phone away and jerked it out of the wall.

The suspect fled after beating her mother over an argument about beer and Depends. I shit you not.

Mom wears Depends due to her loss of bowel functions, or perhaps it's just easier to drink and drink and pee and not have to get up. I don't know. Maybe it's a drunk thing. News to me. Anypeepeepants, after having a few Bud Lights, Mom peed her Depends.She asked her daughter if she could help her change them and started to get up to the bathroom. Whammo! Mom was knocked down and well...the rest is above.

Enter the PoPo.

I got Mom to tell me the truth, photographed her injuries and the house. Daughter was on the run.

She would be back. Afterall, she was drunk. I know drunks. They like to be next to their beer. And I was next to her beer. So there I was.

Sooner than later, the Daughter came back. We were around the corner waiting like a fox in a hen house. Well, actually, foxes don't wait in the hen house. How about similar to a fox in a rabbit hole? No. That's not it either. They just have their butt in the air while catching dinner. How about NOT comparing the PoPo to a sly fox. How about a wolf stalking Red Riding Hood? Yep. That's it. I think. I don't know what the heck got me started on that.

Anydigression, the Daughter called 911 asking to have drug dealers removed from the house. Whiskey-tango-foxtrot? I don't know. Drunks are hard to figure.

We enter.

She was loaded, yelling, and had a gravelly voice which irritated me. She definitely wasn't Adele. So. I told her she was under arrest. The fight was on. For about two seconds.

I took Miss Elder Abuser (all 110 pounds) and threw her onto to the sofa and handcuffed her up. She was bitching, yelling, and carrying on. She also was yelling at her mother to tell the police that she didn't hit her. Officer Friday and I ignored all the raging and ranting.

It was winter. (random sentence)

As a nice PoPo, I thought I would offer her some shoes so she would not have to walk out there barefoot. She kicked two different pair of shoes away. Apparently, she didn't like the fact they didn't match her outfit and she would not wear them.

Yeah. No.

The PoPo obviously don't do fashion. Otherwise we would match our nails and lipstick to our uniforms with pretty hair ties and we would give a shit about what all our prisoners wear and coordinate. I could give a shit if you wear a bunny suit or go naked. When I say you are going to jail, you go... the way you are. So if you are planning on going to jail...make sure you match and have clean underwear. NOT MY JOB.

As you would guess it, the Daughter was taken to the police car by Officer Friday and although we could have carried her, she was a big girl and had to walk across the ground. Maybe...next time...she will put shoes on when they are provided to her.

I was THE bitch. Not A bitch, but THE bitch. I was so proud.

DAUGHTER: You know you are a BITCH! I can't believe you made me walk across cold ground. And you ripped me from my home for NO reason. I didn't beat my mother. I am not drunk.You listening to me, Bitch? Cop? You hear me? You have false arrested me! You need to take me home right now!

ME: Yep. We just picked on you for no apparent reason.

DAUGHTER: Bitch! You ripped me from my home!

ME: YES I did.

DAUGHTER: Why did you do that?

ME: Because you didn't go willingly.

DAUGHTER: I didn't do anything.

ME: Bullshit. Besides when I say the words UNDER ARREST, that means I'm the boss. About everything.

DAUGHTER: Shit. Well don't you think you are Miss Princess.

ME: Actually, I am the PRINCESS PARTY POOPER. No more beer for you. Perhaps when you sober up, reality might set in and you can make better choices.

DAUGHTER: I don't understand why you have to be such a bitch.

OFFICER FRIDAY: Now that's enough. You got yourself in this situation.

DAUGHTER: I was asking a question!

OFFICER FRIDAY: We are tired of your questions.

ME: You have the right to remain silent.

DAUGHTER: Well, I don't want to be silent.

ME: O..silent night. Holy night...{singing in my Opera voice}

DAUGHTER: Christmas is over, bitch! You think you are so funny.

ME: I am. Aren't I? Officer Friday, aren't I funny?

OFFICER FRIDAY: You ARE funny and you are such a BITCH!

DAUGHTER: Thank you.

ME: So happy we could finally please you.

DAUGHTER: Could you please pull up my shirt so my titties aren't hanging out when I get in there?

[record scratch]

[nasty]

ME: Yeah. We don't do that.

DAUGHTER: Why not? I asked nicely.

ME: We don't do FASHION.

The Bomb Squad-Nostalgia

2012-01-05T12:42:00.000-08:00

This title is surely going to put me on the FBI's Most WATCHED list. Oh, well. Watch me. I might be naked running around my house, however. And I might curse at the television or the bills I read. Word of warning to the BIG BROs spying on little citizen me.

It was the mid-eighties. I loved it. College. College. College. (sigh)

One of the below hotties might be NFL MAN. If you can guess which one...I will send you a book illustrated by one of my favorite Wyoming peeps...Zach Pullen...(Radio Flyer illustration) Not only is he so WAY talented and famous...he is an upstanding community member and a down to earth person. Now...if the POPO says that...you must be peachy.

Should there be several RIGHT answers...I will have BUG pull from the RIGHT answer peeps pile for a winner. Yes...it is NOT the computer generated fairness program. It's called pen and paper. If you don't like the rules...don't play. BUT..you would miss out on all the fun and the super dooper chance of winning a fantastic book...YES...paper, not KINDLE or NOOK. Although, I do like the electronic gadgets, I must have my PAPER products. Part of my nostalgia of reading a book, is the feel of paper. AND..of course, you can't enjoy an illustrated book like this without it right in front of you.

OK...so here is the pic. My NFL MAN is a hottie. Which one is he? Tricky, there are several on here that went PRO.

Yes, I know! I know! IT WAS THE EIGHTIES! What can I tell ya? :)

Private Big Cock

2012-01-02T12:45:00.000-08:00

I post this with sadness in my heart.

We ran into a kid who had served in the Navy, claimed to be with Special Ops, worked with The Seals, but I don't know. Usually the ones that did, don't talk about it. Perhaps he was different.

It was his day to snap. "They" say no one ever knows when our servicemen snap if they reach a breaking point. It just happens. One day. This day was his.

Mix alcohol with PTSD and a man who works out 24/7 and you have a time bomb.

We were called to his apartment because he had choked out his best friend after throwing a counter top at him, shoving him into a wall and pushing him down a flight of stairs, followed by punching holes in the apartment complex walls and chasing his friend around town in 20 degrees-snow and ice-in his bare feet.

He was good looking...All American Boy. He was built like a brick shithouse and it was obvious he had been working out...and he was young, 26. As Officer Friday and myself were sizing him up, we both gave each other signals that this one would be a disaster to fight. His friends had warned us about his strength. Three young men had tried to get him off his roommate prior to our arrival. When he came up the stairs in his bare feet, no shirt, jeans...

I found myself looking at Vincent D'Nofrio in Full Metal Jacket.

PRIVATE BIG COCK: Hey, cops. I like to fuck!!!

OFFICER FRIDAY: [ignoring him] Hey, Pvt. Tell us what happened today.

PRIVATE BIG COCK: I love my bro.

ME: Yep. You beat him up.

PRIVATE BIG COCK: I love my bro. I like to FUCK! [starts unzipping his pants] You like to FUCK, lady?

OFFICER FRIDAY: Zip up your pants. Don't you act like that. What happened hear today?

PRIVATE BIG COCK: I have a 12 inch cock. [laughing] That's what happened.

ME: What happened between you and your roommate? Why did you choke him?

PRIVATE BIG COCK: I didn't choke him. I love my bro. Tell him to come back. I'd like to fight the two of you. You want to see if you could take me?

ME: You want to fight a girl? What is wrong with you?

PRIVATE BIG COCK: You are not a girl. You are a woman. After I take the both of you, take your guns, I'm going to fuck you, lady.

ME: Are you threatening me? Because I would suggest you zip it.

PRIVATE BIG COCK: I am Special Forces. See this magazine. This is my bro.

OFFICER FRIDAY: Come on, partner. What happened here tonight? We just want to talk to you, figure out what happened, then we will get out of your hair.

PRIVATE BIG COCK: I like to FUCK!!!! You guys are a joke. I could take you. I have bigger guns than you.

ME: Maybe so. But you aren't faster than my gun. [patted my Glock] Now. Stop being a total idiot. Either you want to talk or you don't. I don't have time to stand here listening to an asshole like you.

PRIVATE BIG COCK: Yep. I am going to get up, hit him once, come over there and take you next, woman. Glocks don't scare me. I've seen worse. Maybe you should get inside my mind.

ME: 'Fraid not. Probably get lost in there. I'm pretty sure it's about as big as your cock. [eye roll, thinking about a 2 inch brain]

PRIVATE BIG COCK: [laughing like an evil scientist] That's right. HUGE!

We had three witnesses and a beat up victim who was now terrified of his friend, plus injuries. He was going to jail.

Officer Friday and I both talked about the fight we were about to endure. We did this all in front of him. He didn't even know we were there. He had checked out again. Officer Billboard said his friends claimed he was working out about 5 hours a day. He had drank an unknown tankage of liquor. He was very muscular and psychotic. A handful. I didn't have much of a plan, but I had had enough.

ME: Get up. You are going to jail.

He complied. He put his hands behind his back, laughing like a hyena, telling us he would twist off at any moment.

PRIVATE BIG COCK: I could outrun you both even handcuffed.

ME: Yep. You win.

So...we took him to jail. He ranted about his BIG COCK all the way to jail. He talked about how he would take on all the cops despite our warnings to behave in jail.

He never had been arrested.

A model citizen.

Now he was being booked in for a felony.

DEPUTY EAGLE FLYER tried to talk to him since he had served at the same time in the same places with PRIVATE BIG COCK. There was no reasoning. PRIVATE BIG COCK mooned DEPUTY EAGLE FLYER and tried to spit on him, telling him he was "shit" and a disgrace to his country.

The next day, DEPUTY EAGLE FLYER told me PRIVATE BIG COCK was still incarcerated and when he woke up, politely tapped on his holding cell and asked where he was and if he could have a glass of water. He was very sober and polite as deputies explained to him the situation and let him read his affidavit.

DEPUTY EAGLE FLYER told me the moment a soldier snaps is unknown to them and to anyone else around them. No one knows what is going to trigger it. He said he had no faith in the way the government and the VA handle soldiers coming back home and he fears this same one will get lost in the cracks. PTSD strikes many of our veterans and is a common tragedy.

Today he is polite, nice, and a model citizen...someone we can be proud of that served our country.

Tomorrow...he might be Vincent D'nofrio and we may not know until we are called to service at his home.

New Rook and Stuff

2011-12-31T18:20:00.000-08:00

I have a new rookie. He's over 50...and served 15 years with Kansas City, MO. PD. I like my sleep. It's great. He and I are on the same page. For instance, the first day...he let me sleep while he drove around. Nothing happened. The next day...same thing. It was like Ground Hog day only different. Then last night...the bomb fell out of the sleeping dummies. We ran balls to the walls...or boobies. Right out of the shoot...my rookie did the same thing he has done for the last two shifts...

He puts his seatbelt on. He takes his seatbelt off. He puts his seatbelt on. He takes his seatbelt off. He puts his seatbelt on. It's like the lotion guy on Silence of the Lambs.

ME: What are you doing?

OFFICER FRIDAY: Um. Well. I put my seatbelt on because of policy. Then I took it off because I thought..well, if I had to run after someone, I would get hung up in the seatbelt and not take it off fast enough. Then...I thought I would put it back on because of safety and hell, I'm not chasing anyone. I'm too old. Then, I took it off because it constricts my breathing and gets caught in my gun. Then, I put it back on because I thought you would ding me on my DOR for not abiding by policy.

ME: Awesome. I think you are my twin. Just for the record, we aren't running after anyone. The car goes faster and if we lose them...well, I don't call out a pursuit. I just call out when I'm in a fight. Otherwise, if they get away...no one knows. I still have a perfect record. Caught them all as far as they know. I'm a superstar like that. [big cheesy grin]

OFFICER FRIDAY: Officer Fargo, you are right, we are twins. [big cheesy grin]

Wind and SH*T

2011-12-28T16:17:00.000-08:00

Bug and I worked on some haiku poems because we are so creative...or something. She's blue. I'm red.

It would be a nice day of December
if the wind wouldn't blow.

I could enjoy the outdoors and the trees and birds and things
if the wind didn't blow.

My mom wouldn't have to pick up garbage in the yard and river and trees and grass
if the wind didn't blow.

That last haiku would have been shorter
if the wind didn't blow...shit everywhere.

Well...it's off to the House of PoPo I go, HI HO, HI HO!

Snowman Annihilation

2011-12-26T08:14:00.000-08:00

Every.single.day.

He attacks.

It's even on Christmas.

He attacks.

Not only does he blatantly buzz by the tree and snatch the innocent snowman...he only seeks out one ornament. No matter where it gets placed.

It's creepy.

It doesn't have a squeaker in it.

It's just cute and fuzzy.

He even looks at me, knowing he gets in big trouble, and still whips it off and runs with it. He doesn't run and hide and love on it..he discards it.

Like it's some rejected snowman from the factory with one arm.

Only it's a perfect snowman. With a smile.

If the snowman gets placed way up high, he jumps.

He's an aspiring basketball star?

NFL MAN thinks he is sniper material.

BUG thinks he has fixation problems. Like he's MOM with a nagging problem. Over and over again and over again. Isn't that wrong? I mean what 11 year old thinks about that?

I think it's a racial thing...because the snowman is white. [Insert NFL MAN eye roll here]Really. It could be true.

So far, he has NOT tumbled the entire tree, but only clenched the one man in his teeth, gently.

It's not like the Abominable Snowman thingy on Bug's Bunny either. It's not love like that.

He paces around thinking like a prison warden. Then picks on only one prisoner. This guy...

He's really cute. I don't know why Moose doesn't like him. Is it his bonnet?

It's really creepy. Can I say that enough?

Once the snowman was placed at the back of the tree, the area where "nobody sees me because I am a sad ornament but I mean something and have memories" (similar to back of the bus) and Moose still found him and pulled him off the tree.

When I put him away, he knocked down EVERY snowman in the house...and ran. They are all white, too.

He doesn't chew the snowmen up, he just knocks them down and runs and cowers...and hides...because then he knows he is in trouble.

See...they are white.

Then seeks out the ONE snowman he has a grudge against. He searches...he lingers...he crawls...

It's like Sarg picking on one guy on the team...only different. Because they are all blue people.

It's a white thing.

Police Ban on NFL Christmas!

2011-12-22T07:48:00.000-08:00

Football, football, football!

Oy, oy, oy..is replacing Ho, Ho, Ho! I'm learning about the joys of football until it interferes with my Bones and The Closer. Oh...and The Biggest Loser. Seriously. Who knew ESPN ran football 24/7 and now the NFL is taking over almost every day of the week on prime time television? It's like an invasion or something.

Here's another phenomenon. Who ever made the NFL like the House of PoPo where it's open on holidays? They play on Thanksgiving. Now they are playing on Christmas. Something ain't right.

Fine! He can have his game on Christmas. Dammit.

My mother is going to be happy. Santa brought her the NFL on Christmas Day. Beat me.

Word of warning...this post is like writing a Christmas letter only different. Same randomness. No pretty Christmas paper.

The life disasters keep coming but I remain a happy person.

Got a flat on the car and can't get a new one for two weeks. Are you kidding me? Not ONE place in town has the tires in stock and due to Christmas, it's shipping next week. I never thought the world would run out of ~~rubbers.~~ rubber.

Officer Shiny Keys called me in a panic last night. He asked me if the rumors were true that I was getting fired. I said, WTF? Yes, I said it during Christmas week. I'm not getting anything for Christmas anyway, Santa already put me on the naughty list. I told him I think they would have told me if I was getting fired and I had not yet heard the news. Off the phone with him and onto the Big Boss LT. LT. laughed and said, "YOU WISH!" He said "fat chance" and enjoy your days off. Whew! I was going to go apply for unemployment right away and had to cancel that idea. Scare me, Grinch!

It snowed...like tons. No shit. It goes over my boots. It's cold. When feeding the horses, I wade through 5 feet of fluff. I have to bust big drifts to get out to the highway in the Gold Beast. NFL MAN said he didn't think he would ever see that much snow again..hadn't seen that much since he was a kid. Talk about a Princess. He tiptoes outside...like the white powder is going to hurt him or something. Of course, it doesn't help he goes outside in shorts. HELLO! Arizona residents. Silly people.

Bug sang to us the other night. She sounded like an angel. Not even exaggerating. I think they heard it in heaven. NFL MAN had tears in his eyes. We clapped for her which brightened her face. I can't believe how good she has gotten.

We played board games and had a great time. The Bugmeister was beaming with smiles which turned my insides warm and fuzzy.

I am so proud of NFL MAN. He announced last night his radio show has been #1 on the company's network for 3 months in a row and doubled in listeners. Yippee! He looked at me funny last night when I gave him a hug and a kiss after telling me the news. He asked what that was for, so I told him I was proud of his success. Like, "duh", I thought it was a normal reaction. He told me no one had ever gotten that excited about his achievements except his mother during his football career. Then he laughed and said he had been alone too many years and the attention was a nice surprise.

I'm off to enjoy what's left of the Christmas season this week without the House of PoPo. I know it's suffering without me, but, alas, it will survive. They called a snow day. Cops not responding to accidents unless you are bleeding or drunk. Word to the people...make that shit up so the police respond. Kidding! Well, not really. Since I'm not there to take the reports...that wasn't really fair. LOL.

I hope Christmas treats you all with love and joy. Here's your first lovin' from Momma Fargo...

Love and hugs to all of you for a very Merry Christmas!

2nd and 10

2011-12-20T05:59:00.000-08:00

NFL MAN and myself have had a lot of fun and a lot of learning about each other. Some good, some bad. Like my cop sense of humor trips him up sometimes.

Major hurdles are in movies and eating likes. He doesn't like Madea. I love Madea. He loves BBQ. I hate BBQ. Little BIG things like that.

My cop job is a hard thing for him to comprehend. He said I look like a Princess but I'm tough as nails...sometimes...then I show a soft heart. It's like trickery only real. I guess most people who know me on the plain clothes, casual side, see me one way and the uniform another. However, I'm the same person. It's hard to explain unless you are my Bitch Goddess friend, Sista From Anotha Motha, Cadillac Kathy, or Marla Dearest. They all understand me and see the two as one.

The hardest thing to deal with is the racial issues we have already faced. He sat me down the other night and talked to me about society and us. Now usually, society has nothing to do with US and I don't want them in my living room. It's not so easy to separate the two. He was right. Reality isn't pretty.

Society is never going to accept black and white. NFL MAN and his daughter were driving in Gotham City in my car and were flagged down by a truck. NFL MAN thought they needed help or there was something wrong with my car, so they pulled over. The truck with two white guys came up next to him and yelled, "Niggers". If I had been there, I would have done a little cop magic on them. He said it was "nothing but a thing" and was used to it. In fact, he said at our UNIVERSITY, he and the other black football players would be out at a restaurant or bar on weekends. During football season, everyone surrounded them and commended them for the games. They were famous and had two years straight winning and going to the Holiday Bowl. In the off season, they would enter those same establishments and were called the "N" word.

We went to my tiny town's post office. While in the parking lot, we received a lot of stares. In town, it was hit and miss. While in my uniform, and together with NFL MAN...lots of looks. I didn't let it bother me.

NFL MAN looked at me last night and asked if I was ready for all the prejudice issues I would face being with him.. I told him I could handle it. I really don't know if I can. What I mean is, I get so worked about HATE in any aspect, that I might get so mad I get in somebody's ass and give them the throat chop. For real.

NFL MAN said society will never change. He grew up in the Projects. He was raised right. He said because you grow up in the Projects, you don't have to be or act Project. His mother told him if any of her children ever saw color, they were no child of hers.

He was transferred to an all white high school during integration. He said I haven't seen anything yet. I know he's right about the world. I just don't like it. I don't have to agree with it. AND...I can certainly take the heat and stand up for what is right. The big struggle is going to be standing up for what is right without doing something wrong...like throat chopping a racist idiot.

Not So Quick Draw

2011-12-19T20:25:00.000-08:00

OFFICER SHREK: Fargo! What the hell? You had it until you threw that last one!

ME: Shit. It's cold out here.

OFFICER SHREK: Well, now you have to qualify twice...in a row.

ME: Yeppers. Poop. I'm going to tell you, you need to schedule these qualifications when it's warm. I only shoot when it's 45 degrees or warmer. This is bullshit.

OFFICER FRIDAY: [laughing] I think that's a great idea.

ME: And I only shoot bad guys in the fair weather.

OFFICER SHREK: Oh, brother. [roll eyes, laughing] Pretty, pretty princess!

ME: Yes, I am. Now bow to me, man! You forget your manners.

OFFICER SHREK: Ha! Get on the range and shoot right, Dammit.[laughing]

ME: Fine! And quit calling me Dammit.

Oy. Shot like shit. Finally qualified. Frozen PoPo Popcicle...really frozen. Beat me.

There should be a law against shooting in below zero.

Who Lets The Dogs Out

2011-12-19T19:53:00.000-08:00

Things have been so exciting for the holiday season! Santa...apparently is test driving a new model sleigh...only had some problems with the GPS system. Instead of going down the chimney...he went through the kitchen wall. Now all Merta wants for Christmas is a new picture window..only with glass...and perhaps a new house to go with it. Watch for flying Toyota Tundras in your area. Stay away...from the fireplace...just in case...

After that excitement...it was back to drunks. We met up with Jerome who was screaming in the hospital waiting room at a .28 BAC that he had a bomb and was going to blow up the place. This...after he was caught in the men's bathroom fixing up his Ramen noodles in the ....toilet bowl.

ME: Jerome...you can't be screaming in the ER. Especially drunk and saying you have a bomb. Technically, we could bring out the feds.

JEROME: Waalll, it's wrong they interuptin' my supper. I was just enjoying my noodles.

ME: Jerome, that is disgusting. Why didn't you make them in the sink?

JEROME: Cuz I needed a bowl. The toilet is a bowl and I can just bend down and eat my noodles. Flush and no clean up.

ME: Aha. But...the sink is round with a stopper and you could have used hot water.

JEROME: Dang. Should have thought of that. Hey, Copper! Can I drive? [Sling blade laugh]

ME: Next time. [rolling eyes]

JEROME: Always back of the bus. You cops is racial.

ME: Naah. We don't want to die today, Jerome. If we hustle, maybe no one will flush your noodles because they think someone puked in the toilet and you can eat them when you get out of the drunk tank.

JEROME: Shit, yeah! Get me to jail!

I know the way to a man's heart and mind is through his stomach...

Touchdown!!!

2011-12-12T13:03:00.000-08:00

When you read this...I'll be at the airport...picking up NFL MAN for Christmas vacay...with me...and my Bug.

I think I'll greet him with the Dougie...

I always knew the 80s were the bomb!

NFL MAN and I talked about the 80s and the University for hours. We are planning a trip there next week for his radio show to go live in the big town of our Alma Mater!

He called today while Bug and I were cleaning the house...

NFL MAN: What are you going to be wearing so I can spot you when I land.

ME: I'm blond. I'll be wearing lots of hair.

NFL MAN: Um. Yeah. I know what you look like. I was talking about clothes.

ME: Bright red jacket.

NFL MAN: Ok.

ME: I'll be doing the Dougie when I see you.

NFL MAN: Oh, hell.

ME: What?

NFL MAN: [laughing] OH no you wouldn't.

ME: Me? Not follow through with a promise?

NFL MAN: I'll send my assistant out first.

ME: You fired your assistant.

NFL MAN: Yeah. I'm just going to grab the passenger next to me.

ME: Make sure he's hot.

NFL MAN: Why?

ME: Well, if you are embarrassed by me dancing and have to send out a decoy...maybe I might like the decoy better.

NFL MAN: I fired him, too. You will see me coming off the plane...I'm NOT a Dougie fan.

ME: Really?

NFL MAN: Well, I'm a fan of yours and if that's what I have to do. You know I don't like that rap crap.

ME: I know. Bug and I are going to have to change that. You dance to it.

NFL MAN: Oh, I can dance. I just have to be drunk to tune out that nasty music and get into the rhythm.

ME: I guess I will the thug in this relationship.

NFL MAN: Yes. Go have a conflict with yourself...cop and a thug. [laughing]

ME: I'm practicing the Dougie right now.

NFL MAN: Oh, Lord help me. [laughing]

BUG: Uh. Awkward!

ME: What?

BUG: That dance doesn't look good on you, Mom.

NFL MAN: [laughing] I love your daughter. She and I get along great.

ME: Hmm. Guess I will have to do it public so you two will join me [doing the Dougie...or my version..the Fargo]

NFL MAN: Fat chance.

BUG: [stink eye] I'm so embarrassed right now.

Picking Up Butch

2011-12-10T17:20:00.000-08:00

I asked one of my favorites, Slamdunk, to do a guest post. I forgot to tell him not to give me goose bumps or make me cry. Oh, well...what the hell, I cry a lot lately, so I'm used to it. When you are done reading his fantastic post, go visit him here.

The question I gave him came to me one day when I was on duty dealing with yoots. The kids were trouble. Pretty soon..everywhere I looked I saw troubled yoots, yoots in trouble, yoots smoking trouble, yoots selling trouble.

Then I thought to myself...why aren't we reaching these kids? Why are they falling through the cracks? What motivates kids? What inspires them? Why are they dropping out of school? Why aren't they picking up a basketball or going to piano lessons? Reading a book? Getting a hobby...other than selling crack on the sidewalk and walking around like a Prostitot? These questions can be answered, but ...the hard question lies with Slam.

Seriously...my community is looking more and more like mini Vegas.

I don't have a solution. However, Slam might be on to something here...

Picking Up Butch

The great Momma Fargo asked me to respond to this:

How can society effectively motivate young people?

Wow, it is difficult to answer such a broad question without making an audience yawn.

So, rather than me requiring readers to consume two cups of coffee or, in the tradition of the teenager, downing a 16 oz. Mountain Dew before reading this, I'll address the question about motivation with a specific example.

One that started inauspiciously many years ago in rural Vermont.

On a snowy day in 1960, Middlebury College sophomore Roger Ralph noticed an elderly woman struggling with a young man in a wheelchair. They were all attending the College's football game.

Ralph stopped and helped the pair.

He learned that the handicapped boy was 13-year-old Richard “Butch” Varno and that the older woman had taken her grandson to see the game.

Butch was a big sports fan and loved watching Middlebury's teams, so Ralph offered to assist him in attending the next game.

Then he helped Butch go to additional games.

Soon other students wanted to help Butch enjoy the sporting competitions, and a tradition was born.

Amazingly, one that continues today--even 50 years later.

For every home football and basketball game at Middlebury College, varsity players pick-up the now 63-year old Butch Varno at his nursing home and transport him to his courtside or fieldside seat.

Not only do student-athletes drive him, but they also sit with him. Sharing the joys and sadness that sporting events offer to true fans.

And, Middlebury students also go beyond just sports.

A few years ago, pole vaulter Sara Smith worked weekly with Butch and helped him earn his GED.

Last year, Butch's story attracted lots of local media, and even some national attention.

And that is how Tara Bedard, a fourth grade teacher at the McAuliffe School in Lowell, MA, learned about Butch.

Moved by the story, Ms. Beddard showed a video about this tradition to her classes.

Probably this one:

The fourth-graders then wrote letters to Butch in his nursing home.

Lots of them.

They thanked him for sharing his story, and included statements like this hoping that they: "Could be as kind and generous as the athletes they saw in the video."

The teacher was then able to coordinate a visit to McAuliffe School by Ryan Wholey, a member of Middlebury College's basketball team who had "picked-up Butch" during his first-year of college.

Ryan talked to a packed room of young students about his experience, and encouraged them to seek ways to help others.

He presented the school with a group photo of a smiling Butch surrounded by Middlebury College's basketball team, and also brought a basketball for each student to sign.

When he returned to Vermont, Ryan gave the basketball and 80 handwritten letters to a floored Butch.

A gift from young yet inspired strangers.

Ms. Bedard facilitated an experience that her students will likely never forget.

So what can be learned about youth motivation from how a 63-year-old sports fan who uses a wheelchair attends games and a dedicated teacher who provides practical learning experiences for her 4th grade students?

Encourage children to become involved.

Foster them in seeking opportunities to help people; and offer tangible examples.

Show them that they are connected to others--despite differences that may exist.

Help them to realize that one individual can make a difference in this world.

Inspiration will translate to motivation.

As teacher Tara Bedard is doing in Massachusetts.

As Roger Ralph did 50 years ago on a snowy afternoon in Vermont.

How can society effectively motivate young people?

Challenge them to "pick-up Butch."

--------------------

Thank you Momma Fargo for allowing me to invade your blog today.

Thank YOU, Slam. It was an honor to have you be my guest. I think you are on to something great. What's better than having the positive role models change the world?

Taken Hostage

2011-12-10T07:20:00.000-08:00

I spent a week in Las Vegas for a Hostage Negotiations class. Beat me. About two days into it, I am sick of freaks and ching, ching, ching noises. The old folks that roomed next to me...inspired me to be better. They must have been having raunchy porn sex all night or arguing at that age resembles it. Or perhaps they were just tossing and turning during the night to get comfortable.

Anymoansandgroans, I'm only a fan of Vegas for about two days. Anything after that is overkill.

I did get my free drunk on. One day. Then it reminded me why I don't need to do that.

NFR, marathon, Indy cars, celebrities. They were all there.

I don't think I could have been more excited to see the strip. At least it made for awesome people watching. It made me feel at home in the hood as well...until.....I got accosted by a large black man to come strip in his club.

STRIP DADDY: Hey, baby. Can I talk to you for a minute? I think you would be a hot at my club.

ME: Go fuck yourself.

STRIP DADDY: Nah, nah. I didn't mean it like that. Your long hair, blond, skinny, fat ass.

ME: Fat ass? What an asshole.

STRIP DADDY: NO! Not fat. PHAT. P.H.A.T.

ME: Makes no difference you can't spell. Get out of my face before I put a size 9 up your ass.

STRIP DADDY: [laughing] I like your attitude. Sure you don't want a job?

ME: [weak smile] Thanks. Declining.

It didn't take long for us to remember anything goes in Vegas. Even offering cops jobs as strippers. And this is what I looked like at the time...I mean... seriously? Cross and all...I looked like a church girl. Wait. Maybe he thought that would be a good act. Crazy shit and stuff.

And those little dudes with the hooker and nightclub flyers in your face?

Throat chop.

Be prepared for a special guest coming your way soon...and it's not Wayne Newton.

You Can Keep A Knockin'

2011-12-02T17:52:00.000-08:00

Police officers often get innovative when it comes to getting someone to answer the door. When the typical knocking doesn't work on the average crackhead, we sometimes have to think outside the box.

Do we cover up the peephole? Sometimes. That's been a worn out method, however, and they are on to us.

We were headed to Slumville to pick up a certain crackhead on a warrant.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: I'll get this, Fargo. Watch and learn. The dog scratch always works.

ME: What?

OFFICER BILLBOARD: The Dog Scratch.

So...he bent down and clawed at the door. Like three or four times. Inside...a large dog barked and came to sniff the bottom of the door from the other side, then growled.

Nothing.Nada. No PERSON came to the door.

ME: That's working great.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: It usually works. They think there's a dog at the door and come to look. Half the time they think their dog is loose.

ME: I see.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: Let's try the Zombie Knock.

ME: What the hell? Do you sit around your X-Box at night and think of these ding dong ideas?

OFFICER BILLBOARD: Nah. It's an on-duty thinking process.

ME: Super.

So....he slapped the top of the door and drug his hand down to the bottom like he was smearing blood. The same large dog barked again.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: This is going to work.

ME: Ah. Huh.

Nothing. Nada. No PERSON came to the door.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: I'm going to try music and a Music Tap Knock.

ME: Okey. Dokey. [roll eyes]

So....he played Sexy And I Know It and knocked like a goof ball on the door.

The same dog barked. He didn't sniff. He ran and jumped at the door.

Nothing. Nada. No one came to the door.

ME: Let me try.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: Ok. They are passed out. You won't get anything.

So.....I kicked the door several times. Then kicked it again and yelled into the apartment.

ME: HEY! ANSWER THE FUCKING DOOR! IT'S COLD OUT HERE.

Pretty soon....

WANTED KURT: Fuck. [opened the door] What the hell do you want?

ME: Hi. Good morning! We have a warrant for your arrest.

WANTED KURT: Fucking cops. Are you fucking kidding me?

OFFICER BILLBOARD: Sorry, buddy. Judge's order.

WANTED KURT: Dammit!

And...off to jail he went...all his tats including the barbed wire necklace and skull on his skull. Beautiful.

Later...

OFFICER BILLBOARD: Just so you know...that trick was a fluke.

ME: Ah. Huh. Remember. I'm a girl with the mind of a Jedi. Star Wars is where it's at, buddy. [big cheesy grin]

OFFICER BILLBOARD: *blink*blink*

Just Two Pieces Of Wood

2011-11-30T22:28:00.000-08:00

I left the gift next to the door on the secluded landing with a note after knocking repeatedly on the door. She wasn't home, but the roommate and her sister were there. They were inside, but wouldn't answer. They knew I was a cop. They also knew I was aware they had been smoking pot and drinking underage. Then...there was that warrant. She didn't approve. It made her cry when she found out her roommate wasn't made of the same morals and values.

She called her dad crying. The present wasn't there when she got home...only 30 minutes after I had left it for her. She confronted her roommate and the sister about the package and was told they didn't have a clue what she was talking about. I knew they were lying. She did, too. Her dad...was very upset. Soon after...she received a text message from her roommate...

ROOMMATE: Fuck you. And fuck your football dad and his fucking cop girlfriend.

I didn't know what was going on until I got the phone call. NFL MAN filled me in on the drama involving his daughter.He had warned her not to get a roommate unless she knew the person well and trusted them. Kids. They have to learn the hard way sometimes.

NFL MAN: You know I'm not going to tolerate this.

ME: Leave it alone. They are just trying to stir her up.

NFL MAN: No. NO ONE makes my daughter cry. And NO ONE talks about you like that.

ME: I'm used to it. Believe me, they are just immature drama queens. Doesn't bother me.

NFL MAN: That's not the point, baby. I wasn't raised this way and I lived in the ghetto. Kids have no respect.

Despite my efforts to tell him to let it go, I am sure he did not. It didn't matter. It was already a disaster. While we were talking about kids and problems, the roommate was calling the landlord to report things that were made up to get her kicked out, threatening her, and yelling... which led to NFL DAUGHTER grabbing the dogs and leaving in a haste. He interrupted my call to take a frantic call from his daughter.

I met her in town and she followed me home. I agreed to watch her boyfriend's dog until she could get an apartment in the next few days. She was definitely coming to get the dog on Monday when her boyfriend returned. He was a nice puppy. I didn't approve of the first time he peed in my house to mark his territory, however. She apologized and felt bad. The dog, King, slept through the night. That was last night.

Today was a new day.

The wipers were clicking and working hard to push the heavy snow off the windshield. The roads were icy. It was coming down thick and wet. By now, the roads were frozen. Visibility was maybe 15 feet at best.

I heard honking behind me. A white cloud passed my left side. As I looked, it was a white Tahoe and before long I saw the red taillights in front of me. Idiot. Just because you have four wheel drive, doesn't mean faster is the way to go on ice.

A semi in the oncoming lane was stuck trying to come up the hill right out of the canyon.

At 20 miles per hour, I was pushing it with the ice. Call it cop driving. I always drive like a maniac...only a smart maniac. As I was jamming to LMFAO's latest..."Sexy And I Know It"....I looked twice to see the Tahoe spinning out in the ditch. Forward and back. Repeat. HA! Helllll to the NO I didn't stop. Asshole was only stuck. He could figure it out.

I made it home in an hour. I was relieved. It was a long day at work.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw three large figures dart over by the horse trailer. Dammit. The horses I boarded for a friend had gotten out and as I got closer, I could see they had destroyed my haystack. Only a few bales remained out of a ton. Expensive mishap. I would have to tend to it after I changed out of my business attire.

Throwing the groceries on the counter and the car keys, I was greeted by a warm, moist nose. King. The boyfriend's dog. Mine was in his crate. NFL DAUGHTER had come throughout the day to potty the dogs and play with them. They had been left for two hours by themselves. It smelled terrible. Like dog piss. My temper flared. I turned on the lights.

King had pissed on my leather sofa, my two fabric chairs, my log staircase, my rugs. I was so PISSED (no pun intended) and deflated. I just cried.

As I turned the corner, I dropped to my knees and balled my head off. I just couldn't take anymore disasters.

King had EATEN my door and bathroom vanity.

That wasn't the worst part.

He had PISSED on Moose while Moose was in his crate...defenseless and unable to avoid the stream of PISS on his head. How humiliating. I am sure he was devastated that this stranger had come into his house and went all DENNIS THE MENACE around the house. Because that was his job. Although Moose never ate things. He just drug things around and hoarded items on his dog bed. There were no words. I think I tried to scream, but nothing came out. Just tears running down my face.

NFL MAN called and I couldn't even tell him. I just sent him these pics.

WOW.

He was PISSED.

His daughter called me crying. I couldn't even get upset at her. It wasn't her fault. She already had enough this week. All I could do was tell her it was alright. ..just two pieces of wood.

I spent an hour cleaning up PISS and WOOD...both words deriving from the male and reminded me of PENIS or DICKHEAD as in the dog. My house still smelled like dog PISS.

Frustrated and crying, I went outside to capture the prison escapees and fix fence and feed the animals. I could barely see 5 feet in front of me. The horses ran from me. I apprehended one and led him to the paddock thinking the rest would follow. It would be another hour in terrible blizzard conditions before the others would settle down for me to lead them to their prison walls again. By now 6 inches had fallen. I was a PoPo Popsicle frozen in a shit welcoming home escapade after a long day. As I drug my downtrodden self back to the house, I thought about all the new, unexpected expenses I just incurred at Christmastime.

"Just two pieces of wood," I kept telling myself.

As I walked into the house I could still smell a strong odor of PISS. My anger flared again. And then I thought of the destroyed bathroom. Then I saw them...

Who am I fooling? I have used A LOT of cleaner. I have scrubbed the furniture. I have scrubbed the floor..TWICE! I washed rugs. I washed pillows. I washed dog beds. I washed the FRICKIN' dog. I am spent.

In my mind....this is what I see....

DAMN. That's all I can say today.

Sit On This

2011-11-29T09:40:00.000-08:00

I am all about free speech. I'm a proponent of Civil Rights...all of them.

Especially gun rights. I like those. I own a "few". I might even use them... a lot. Especially off my porch...naked...shooting varmits...or something. Occasionally, I just fire off rounds so people fishing will leave me alone...talk about that crazy bitch that might be living in that thar house. Yep. That's me.

What I don't get is when protesting or fighting for what is right or wrong or whathaveyou...becomes illegal or violent. What have we come to? Then I have to think back in the days of the Civil Rights movements. They were violent times. It is hard to believe that the color of someone's skin brought us all so much hatred. I wasn't raised that way. I can't even comprehend it.

Now...we have people fighting over economic status. Really? I'm in the poor house. I think it's up to me to get myself out of it. Do I think the tax laws and the political crapola favors the rich. You betcha. Is it fair? No. Is life fair? No.

We have extreme groups out there that we view as "over the top "extreme. Some are even extreme to the point of dangerous. Does that mean I think they need to go away? Dissolve? Disperse? I don't know. I know that extreme groups are often a checks and balances in the world against heavy and unfair government regulations. I don't think I like either extreme groups nor the government to be heavy handed. But they are. When I don the blue suit, I am often fighting against the improper ways of extreme groups when their protesting goes beyond peaceful demonstrations. Is it right? Or is it wrong? Truthfully, I don't know. Sometimes I just stand there to keep peace. Sometimes I arrest those that break the rules. I'm just the enforcer.

I don't want people to get hurt. I don't want cops to get hurt. I certainly get irritated when citizens don't have peace...even if it is just walking down the street trying to get from point A to point B. It's true people can walk past demonstrators and tune out the yelling or listen if that is their choice. However, when is enough, enough? Is it ok to pause them slightly to get their attention? Even if it is a slight inconvenience? I can tell you I want to throat chop every mall kiosk employee that stops me in my path to try their Super Dooper Anit-Aging Serum or miracle product.

What about demonstrators? Woodstock? Again, I don't know. But here I am...the cop in blue. Enforcing the laws. Keeping the peace.

Tell me what you think about this movement...and here are some interesting facts compiled by OnlineMBA.com...

Via: Online MBA Guide

Touchback

2011-11-29T07:26:00.000-08:00

NFL MAN: Where have you been all my life?

ME: [giggling] I asked you that before, remember?

NFL MAN: Yeah.

We don't know why we didn't connect in college like we have now. Our lives weren't meant to be crossed that way until middle age, I guess. It's strange to feel this way and be on the exact same page as the person you are dating. We both feel we have known each other for years, yet we are just getting to know each other. Makes no sense unless you're in it.

His dreams are big. My dreams are big. We are both constantly moving forward, not backward. We both have stumbled, been depressed, had hard times. Yet, we still are positive and feel life has a lot to offer. And at the same time, we both have told one another that we have new energy and new spunk because of finding each other.

We are going to take a couple days and go back to Laramie to visit our alma mater. We are going to walk hand in hand no matter how cold and windy it is...down every sidewalk on campus and talk about our college days...go visit his coaches...and do a live radio show together there with another NFL friend of his.

NFL MAN: What do you think of the 50 yard line?

ME: What? It's a nice football field. Cold as hell this time of year. [giggling]

NFL MAN: I can arrange to have the whole field. [giggling]

ME: Naughty man.

NFL MAN, Bug, and I all watched the football game together but separate... last night...by telephone. That was a big step since Bug and I usually have the television on something else. He made it fun for us.

NFL MAN: Name one thing you and Bug absolutely won't tolerate from me.

ME: You can't be a gangster.

NFL MAN: No?

ME: Nope. There is only room for one gangster in this relationship and that's me.

BUG: [giggling] My mom is a gangsta!

NFL MAN: Shit. I can't even spell gangster.

ME: Would you stop already. [giggling]

BUG: I can! It's G.A.N.G.S.T.E.R.

NFL MAN: See? She's got me beat already.

ME: She can't be a gangster either.

BUG: Mom!

ME: Well. It's true.

BUG: Why do you get to have all the fun?

ME: I'm the Queen.

NFL MAN: Nope. You are the princess.

BUG: What do I get to be?

NFL MAN: The Princess with a capital P. Your mom is a princess with a little p.

BUG: [giggling] OK.

ME: Knock that off.

NFL MAN: What?

ME: You know what.

NFL MAN: It's true.

He made my Bug smile ear to ear. It warmed up my heart to see her so happy. She later told me she is so happy for... ME. My little one is more grown up than I am.

I took Bug to the bus today. I have had a smile on my face for quite some time. After loading her on the short bus...yes, she rides a small tiny bus into another stop to get on the big bus-not the politically incorrect handicapped bus-but same make and model...I came back home.

For some reason, I stopped. The air was crispy today. The birds started to sing. The sun came out. It was a beautiful winter (yes...already here in Wyoming) day. I just felt like I'm beginning a new chapter in mid-life. This time...I'm OK with it. It's going to be great, whatever the next few years behold.

Today...I feel like a Hallmark card.

THE CRAPPER

2011-11-28T21:09:00.000-08:00

He was busy making origami in the interview room. While being interrogated...he made me a toilet paper rose. Yep. Presented it and everything...in front of the detective and officers...like a dashing prince out of a fairytale book...NOT.. as he was led out of the interrogation to the funny farm. Yep. I attract 'em. Boy Howdy.

It started out on the toilet. Yep. THE CRAPPER.

He called all over town...to hot lines...to police...ran into the ER...all crazy behavior. Our first clue. I knew it was just a schizophrenic issue mixed with self medication...alcohol. However, as a supervisor, you have to investigate everything. And so we did.

We played the mind game. We called all his contacts. We checked all his known friends. He still made threats to the mystery man he had chained to the toilet...NAKED.

OFFICER FITNESS: Boss. He will only ride to the police department with you.

ME: Super. I'm so lucky.

OFFICER SQUIRREL: Apparently he only trusts you.

ME: Yep.

So...I took the crazy man to the police department where we had a 4 hour tour. Yep. Out shined Gilligan's Island. Fo sho. The whole disaster of a call tied up 7 officers for 5 hours. You see why I think deregulating the mental health places and letting everyone out of the funny farm is such a BAD idea. Hello!

He was fixated on me, probably because I was the only female. Shoot. Me.

I endured the ride to the station with him. It was like the Great American Race...only I lost. It was like being stuck in those terrible cabs that don't understand English or your urgency to be first and they go in circles where you were first in the lead, then you got bypassed by every other team because your cab driver was a fucking retard or was planted in the race as a mole and frustrated the hell out of you because no matter how hard you tried nothing made sense. Yeah. It was like that.

Only more painful in person. Just sayin'.

We arrived at the station in good time, my nerves shot, and my hair was not in order from the hurricane wind and cold. I sent Earl to his room with water and a candy bar and waited for the detective...

CrAZy EARL: I'm going to smoke.

ME: Nope. Can't smoke in here.

CrAZy EARL: Well, I'm going to smoke.

ME: No you are not.

CrAZy EARL: [pointed at me with evil face]I'm going to fucking blow you up along with this station.

ME: Ok. Well, in that case, I am taking your smokes and matches and cell phone away. So sorry. [slammed door]

CrAZy EARL: Bitch!

He began throwing things around and stripping off his clothes, then laid on the floor half naked.

Yes. The detectives thank me for these things.

After the long interview/interrogation....nothing...nada...zero.

He was escorted to the basement to a police car. As we followed him downstairs, he handed me his beautiful...deluxe.. handcrafted toilet paper rose on his way out to his destiny. ..the funny farm.

In the long run, he was nuts just as I suspected.. We did not discover anyone on the toilet...chained in misery. Hopefully, days later we do not find a poor helpless rotting victim... on a toilet...in chains...locked there...naked.

Crazy fuckers. Gotta love 'em.

1st and 10

2011-11-27T07:57:00.000-08:00

I got a call in the middle of Thanksgiving chaos....

NFL MAN: We aren't doing this next year.

ME: What?

NFL MAN: We aren't doing this next year.

ME: I don't understand. [was he breaking up with me already?]

NFL MAN: We aren't going to be apart for Thanksgiving. Or any holiday.

ME: Ok.

NFL MAN: I miss you.

ME: I miss you, too.

NFL MAN: Be safe.

ME: Ok.

DISPATCH: 96, need you to respond to the hostage situation on the board. Suspect is intoxicated and says he has a man chained to a toilet. Won't tell where the hostage is. Suspect is mobile. Units asking for a supervisor.

ME: [grabbed the police radio] Copy.

ME: Gotta go, babe. Look at it this way, at least you aren't chained to a toilet.

NFL MAN: [laughing] Your job is going to stress me out. But I support you in whatever you do.

ME: Ditto.

NFL MAN: I'm going to call and check on you later.

ME: Ok. Tell your family Happy Thanksgiving.

NFL MAN: Will do. They can't wait until you get here.

ME: Me, too.

NFL MAN: Hey, I showed your picture to my NFL buddies that came over today. They said if I didn't marry you, they were going to. [laughing] What do you think of that?

ME: Well, at least I have several prospects. [laughing] Gotta go. Talk to you later.

NFL MAN: Ok, babe.

TANKEDgiving

2011-11-27T07:45:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving found us in the same turmoil as did the night before. First out of the shoot...a foot chase on a wanted illegal alien felon. That's a lot of words to describe a bad guy. The foot chase ended up at gunpoint in which the dude surrendered peacefully. The night then turned to crashes as we had two DUI injury crashed simultaneously. It went on and on.

I found my patience wearing out...

When arriving to a family fight involving everyone drunk...my mouth was overriding my brain...

DRUNK BRAD: The bitch hit me.

DRUNK LAURA: He hit me first.

DRUNK BRAD: I was trying to get away.

DRUNK LAURA: He pushed me and punched me.

DRUNK BRAD: She slammed my head against the wall.

DRUNK LAURA: That's because when you get drunk you are such a retard and I'm sick of it.

WOJO: Alright. Brad outside. Laura stay in here and talk to these officers. There are no marks on either of you. As drunk as you are, how are we supposed to believe either of you. All we can prove is the screaming. Maybe we should take both of you to jail for disturbing the peace.

I was monitoring the call as a supervisor. Soon...the words were just a constant drone. The two were idiots. Drunk Brad was the biggest weenie of a man. He was 6-4, 140 pounds and a drunk. Drunk Laura was about 5-2, 300 pounds. At least as a drunk, she wasn't totally annoying, just not real smart. She definitely wore the boots in the relationship. Then I found something in the conversation that made me snap.

DRUNK BRAD: I paid the rent. She needs to leave.

DRUNK LAURA: I paid the rent last week. We share. Every other week.

DRUNK BRAD: Yeah, so I paid it this week. You need to find somewhere else to live.

ME: You both live here. You both pay rent. Wyoming law. We can't kick either of you out.

DRUNK BRAD: I paid the rent. She has to go. [fell against the wall]

ME: Are you fucking stupid? Do you fucking listen to anything?

DRUNK LAURA: See? See what I mean?

ME: And you shut it. The two of you are about the dumbest fools we have had all night. And let me tell you how many idiots we have run into already. You two take the prize.

DRUNK BRAD: You know what? Just take me to jail. I've have peace there. [put his hands behind his back]

WOJO: Ok, then. Solved that one.

DRUNK LAURA: Oh. Does he have to go to jail?

ME/WOJO: Yes!

DRUNK LAURA: Since it was his decision, can he change his mind?

ME/WOJO: NO!

DRUNK LAURA: Oh.

ME: And while he is in jail having Thanksgiving turkey, you can clean this pig sty up. It's disgusting.

The night continued with drunk after drunk...which turned Thanksgiving into Tankedgiving. We were dispatched to a fight at a Thanksgiving party.

DRUNK LENARD: You need to tell my wife to come back to the hotel room.

DRUNK WANDA: I don't want to go there. I want to stay here and party.

ME: Lenard, she doesn't want to go with you.

DRUNK LENARD: Nope. She has to go home with me.

DRUNK MONA: Tell him to leave. We don't want him here. He's an asshole.

ME: Lenard. You're an asshole. They want you to leave.

DRUNK LENARD: I'm taking Wanda,

WOJO: Listen. Call a cab. Leave.

DRUNK STEVEN: He started pulling her by the hair. We don't want him here.

ME: [pointing my finger at Lenard] You leave. You touch Wanda again, I will put your fucking ass in jail. You hear me?

DRUNK LENARD: Yes, mam.

ME: And change your haircut. You look like a fucking retard. You are 50 years old. Act your age.

DRUNK LENARD: *blink*blink*

ME: Leave!

Drunk Lenard left.

WOJO: You didn't let the guy have his woman...then you dogged him on his hairdo.

ME: He was a fucking idiot and that was the stupidest...that is a word...hairdo...EVER.

WOJO: Yeah.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: You are so mean.

ME: Yep. Lost my Thanksgiving love.

You Take My Breath Away

2011-11-24T14:24:00.000-08:00

Most suspect struggles or fights take from 2-3 minutes...full strength...before backup arrives in our city. It's an adrenaline exertion which usually takes the maximum muscle usage from your body. During those few minutes...trying to apprehend a combative subject...feels like eternity.

I was the supervisor last night to what we claimed was Aremgedeon. It started out with auto burglaries, felony dope busts, family fights. All officers were balls to the walls. We again were shorthanded. I was responding to a casual prowler call with another officer in the furthermost area of our city. This area is low crime and is patrolled by usually our larger officers who are capable of working on their own with backup being 5-10 minutes away. Most areas are closer and backup is right there. Everyone was on calls. I headed Officer Cornfed's way. Before too long...he called he was in a foot pursuit...then screamed for help. When Cornfed needs help...he's not joking around.

Activating lights and sirens, I drove the supervisor rig...a Dodge Durango...equipped with an arsenal...to his location. When I hit the 5 lane street...I gunned it. Winds in this area were coming off the mountain at 60+ miles an hour.

Now any cop will tell you that people do not pull over for cops. Last night...they were parting like Moses did the Red Sea. It wasn't because it was their civilian and lawful duty...it was because the winds were rocking me back and forth and almost tipping over my g-ride topped out at 90 miles an hour. I was scaring the shit out of them and they were getting the hell out of my way.

Usually when we have an officer in trouble..everyone drops their calls and goes. It was just me. Everyone was tied up on felony calls and emergencies.

I arrived at 2314. He had been there since 2307. He had been fighting a suspect on drugs and alcohol by himself for 7 minutes. When I arrived, he was exhausted and the suspect had finally stopped fighting. They were at a standstill. We told the suspect he was under arrest and started cuffing him up.

Those are the most dangerous words a cop can utter..."you are under arrest."

The fight was on again. This time he punched, kicked, bit us, head butted us...any attempt to get away. I got my taser out. It was too close range to fire the prongs because we both would have been disabled by the wires crossing our bodies. I threw the cartridge off and warned him I was going to tase him. Never mind that I was going to use the stun portion of the Taser. He didn't comply and kept fighting and biting. I stunned him twice with the full 5 second blast. It made him more RETARD STRONG and aggressive. Sometimes the stun has that adverse effect. Fuck.Me. In.The.Ass.

He shouted..."YOU FUCKING BITCH!" and began biting me and kicking me. Cornfed was still fighting him and trying to control him as was I. Cornfed is 6-1 and weighs about 220. Somehow during the fog of war...the suspect and I began to struggle over the hand holding my Taser where now with the fight going on, my finger was constantly pressing on the trigger. The "ratta tat tat" was going off and alarming the suspect that another stun was near. He ripped the Taser from my hand. I immediately went to draw my gun and at the same time the suspect threw the Taser into the street.

The fight ensued.

Despite our control holds, pressure points, custody and control training, and street fighting...he got away. He began running through the neighborhood. I pursued. Cornfed by this time was too exhausted. I had screamed over the radio for backup. That's what I was later told. I don't remember screaming over the radio and I am usually calm. Squirrel said he was scared to death when he heard my radio traffic.

I sprinted about 1/4 mile before the suspect started to run in circles around an evergreen tree. Cornfed had almost nothing left and pursued but then tried to divert the suspect off at the pass, but missed. Besides his irrational behavior, I was really starting to see the drugs had screwed up any common sense the bad guy might have had.

We finally cornered him and Cornfed being an ex-football star, ran and tackled him across the street onto a lawn. By now..15 or so neighbors had collected outside to watch the show. No Good Samaritans in the crowd...only hecklers.

It was another struggle tougher than the last one. Our "police" tool box...all over the neighborhood. We were down to our guns and handcuffs. Everything else had been stripped, ripped, dropped, or somehow taken off our belts. I delivered knee strike after knee strike as the suspect bit into my partner and kicked me in the chest. The knee strikes were so powerful, Cornfed said the blows threw him and the suspect around. He couldn't believe none of them were effective. Cornfed had his Maglite in the suspect's ear to push his head off his arm he was biting. No effect.

Cornfed's radio broke. Dispatch was trying to status check us. I couldn't get out on the radio. One last plea for them to keep coming was all I could muster and still maintain control of what arm I had a grip on so the suspect could not get the upper hand.

"Keep them coming," was all I could blare on the radio.

Cornfed and I both knew we were reaching our limits. At this point Cornfed was just laying on the suspect with all his weight and trying to get him to stop kicking and biting. The man was screaming..."fuck the police" and other profanities.

I had one hand cuffed and with all my training and might...and correct holds and wristlocks...I couldn't get the compliance or even muscle the other arm to the other handcuff. I delivered one last knee strike and almost did a "People's elbow" when the suspect took a breath and I yanked, slamming the other hand in the cuffs.

We laid there until backup arrived, trying to hold him down. It was now 2339. Backup had driven 140 miles an hour to get to our location. They knew we had been in trouble...our location was just that far on the outskirts of town. I looked up to see the deputies, highway patrol, and a local suburb law enforcement. They had all responded along with 4 other city cops.

The suspect fought all the way to the car and all the way to the jail where he fought 6 detention officers and 3 city cops.

I began to gather up our equipment strung all over the neighborhood. Blood everywhere...on my uniform..on my equipment. Some his...some ours. The fight was the longest we had gone with any suspect and almost beyond our physical capabilities.

I reached down in one of the neighbor's flower gardens to get my Taser which was stuck in the ON position and the laser light was aimed at a house. It was covered in blood and dirt.

SQUIRREL: Hey, Fargo. [he checked my pulse]Breathe. Dammit. You are going white.

It was then I realized I had gone into an asthma attack when the adrenaline was wearing off.

DEPUTY BOSS DOG: Where's your inhaler?

I pointed to the Durango.

I came back around after the inhaler started kicking in. Revelations going through my head was that I wasn't strong enough, tough enough, fast enough. I was doubting my physical fitness. I was doubting my health. My back where the surgery took place...started to ache. I ignored it. My breathing was more priority. I had never gone into such a bad asthma attack. It gave me an uneasy feeling and didn't reassure my thoughts that perhaps I was a safety concern to my fellow officers. I also came close to shooting a man. I had never been disarmed...especially my Taser or gun.

My asthma attack had burned my lungs so bad that today...still now...I cough and wheeze and talk in a raspy voice. I'm the boss again tonight on Family Fight night...Thanksgiving. It's going to be a doozy.

I. AM. TOO. FUCKING. OLD. FOR. THIS. SHIT.

Damn that was fun.

CrossFit Crunch and The Classy Ho

2011-11-23T09:22:00.000-08:00

I doomed myself to a goal of getting ultimately fit for the Superbowl Players Party and Ball. Pressure. I am so all over those trophy wives and football bimbos... for lunch. I also added a roll of duct tape to my black bag I am carrying so I don't embarrass NFL MAN with any words that might escape me. Damn Tourette's. I sure have had a lot of illnesses. There is one for every condition in the world. No kidding.

Actually, I am looking forward to meeting his friends and surely I won't need duct tape. Or a medical book to define my issues.

NFL MAN asked me if he could wear a black suit with a matching kerchief in his pocket. I told him my dress was black and see through in all the right places...and classy...slimming and tea length with a slit... and my wrap had purple and blue in it. Made myself sound like a classy ho. Actually, it is very lady-like with a little sexy. So...we might look like a hot couple.

My friend is custom making my bling bling jewelry so I look good without diamond prices.Although her jewelry is topnotch and expensive...it's going to be free for me. After the Superbowl, she is donating the jewelry for one of his charity benefits. He was excited.

So begins the powerhouse workouts...two a day with two days a week rest. One at 5 pm and one at 5 am. Let's hope it works.

Can't have myself outdone by 20 year old bitches. Just sayin'. Who am I kidding? I am freakin' 44 years old. Oy. LOL.

The Whore

2011-11-23T09:02:00.000-08:00

I almost cancelled my appointment to get my nails done for the holiday. I should have. CHINESE NANCI was busy and gave me to the new guy...CHOW.

ME: NANCI, I don't want to sound like a poop but the only CHOW I want is CHOW YUN-FAT...

and this guy ain't him. New guys scare me. I'm so used to having my nails done a certain way.

BEAT ME. I was sounding like a snobby Princess.

NANCI: Oh. It be okey dokey. He ny mahn. He make pwetty.

ME: Ok.

So...I agreed. CHOW didn't know what he was doing...well, only partially. I felt sorry for him.

CHOW: You steef.

ME: Yep. Been told that before.

Despite my shabby nail job, I found myself upset and unable to voice my concern because he was under so much pressure. The boss was on him because he was taking too long. What was to be an hour appointment was taking two.

CHOW: It coming.

ME: What?

CHOW: It com-ming.

ME: I'm sorry. I don't understand. [What..an alien invasion? The end of the world? Perhaps the end to my nail job. Oy.]

CHOW: Tanksgiving.

ME: Oh. Yep. It's here in a couple of days. [I was thinking...la ti effing da. Just blew my wad on a turkey]

CHOW: Ya. I solee I so slow too-day.

Being in the chair for so long, I was getting nauseous, the room was closing in on me. Seeing my demise, CHOW hustled up and finished my nails. Under the dryer, the boss lady came by and tsk tsk'd my nails.

She took me over to the pedicure area and set me up. It felt good to have my feet rubbed. Pretty soon the boss man, Suni, was checking my nails. He was very kind.

SUNI: I fix for you when done with feet. Make them smoof for you.

ME: Ok. Thanks.

CHINESE NANCI took over my pedicure. Before too long, she was giving me the bitness.

NANCI: You chee up.

ME: Yeah.

NANCI: You come in heeah all look like whore down.

ME: What?

NANCI: Look like whore down.

ME: You mean a ho down? Like a dance? Or..is that what we say when we tackle a prostitute and put cuffs on her? [giggling]

NANCI: Nah, nah! Poot grin on face. Look like whore who down in mouf. Yoo no make fun of me. [giggling]

ME: Oh. Horse down in the mouth.

NANCI: Ya. What you pwobem?

ME: I don't know. Holiday blues or something.

NANCI: Holiday sposed to be hawpy not sad.

ME: Yeah.

NANCI: You been heah for tree hours.

ME: Yeah.

NANCI: I solee. You get pwetty, tho, no?

ME: Yes. Thank you.

NANCI: You fine love?

ME: I don't know. Maybe.

NANCI: When he birfdate?

SO I told her NFL MAN's date of birth.

NANCI: Ah. A whore. So-so mixcha. Not bad. He ny to yoo?

ME: Yes. I think I like whores, Nanci. Perhaps I should stick with them. [big smile]

NANCI: He put hunned percent into reewationswip. Dat's how they go. Almost ower boawd. But dat's how dey lov. Dey put all of dem into it for lov. He pay lots attention to yoo?

ME: Yes. Very much.

NANCI: Goo. Yoo need dat. We will see how dis goes. What happened to Tigah?

ME: I had two of them. One friend. One more than a friend. Both gone.

NANCI: Ah. Tigah bites sometimes. Tigahs selfish too. Tigahs in our life are hot and code. And two tigahs...no goo...maybe excitin' tho. [giggling] Only room for one. [giggling] Stick to whore. See how go. Eweryone must find lov. Twue lov. That's the meaning of li. Lov. Lov of all kinds.

I finally left the salon and after being there for three and half hours, I was exhausted and not at all refreshed. My nails looked good, however, I found I couldn't enjoy them. The depressionosis was hanging on. Damn virus.

Fargo Pilgrimage

2011-11-23T09:01:00.000-08:00

Lately, I have found myself lost in thought on the search for a great spiritual journey of sorts...a revelation. A new idea. A new beginning. I need a life. Just sayin'.

I found myself at home. Alone. With a puppy named Moose. Even though he was a busy creature, he wasn't keeping me occupied to the point that daydreaming was on lock down. No..it's true. I can daydream through a war.

I know I had been waiting and anticipating the shift change to nights...but I didn't landscape on my three days off. I didn't rush to a job site. It was the only time off we were allotted during the holidays...our regular days off. Yes, I had one court appearance. It was short. The defendant didn't show up.

I could have cleaned my house. I procrastinated.

I could have worked on the shop. I procrastinated.

I could have taken a load to the dump. I definitely procrastinated on that one.

On the first day, I rested. Slept the entire day. I think I was coming down with a bout of depressionosis.

On the second day, I was called into overtime and court, then I rested. The depressionosis was still there and needed to be combated with Biltmore Merlot wine.

On the third day, the horses I am boarding for a friend broke through the fence and destroyed my entire haystack. Beat me. After I was deflated with hopelessness that I would have a good break in life, (enter pity party here), I got my wind beneath my wings and ventured to town to pick up a turkey I had ordered and get to an appointment with my Chinese lady...nail day. The depressionosis subsided slightly as I became occupied with things to do. I couldn't take my medicine..i.e. Biltmore Merlot...because it was dangerous to drive while medicated...and illegal.

As I entered the supermarket where I had ordered my turkey, I watched as several people carted beautiful birds nearby. I was excited. Thanksgiving and Christmas were going to be special. I approached the counter and gave my name and was handed this beautiful 16 pound turkey. Yummy. Christmas is smoked ham. I was slobbering just at the thought of having a traditional holiday meal.

I grabbed a few other items and went to checkout.

CASHIER: That will be $72.98

ME:*blink*blink*

CASHIER: Mam?

ME: How much was my turkey?

CASHIER: $62.95

ME: Are you shitting me? Did you shove gold nuggets up it's butt. [enter Fargo peeing pants in checkout line]

CASHIER: Mam. It's a free range organic turkey.

ME: Holy crap. No wonder I ate Mac and Cheese all these years. Big meals are surely only going to be left for the rich to enjoy aren't they?

CASHIER: Well, mam. It's worth it. It's a great bird.

ME: Yep. Had I not been so slow on the Safeway kick, I would have gotten one there for a 1/3 of the price. Wow. I think I just killed my entire meal budget.

So...I paid the price. I think I cried all the way to the car. I don't know if it was because my bird was so heavy or the price tag. However, it was a lovely bird. By golly, it will be the best damn effing turkey ever. Frickin' economy and single motherhood. Oy.

Flag On The Field

2011-11-20T15:54:00.000-08:00

NFL Man watches football every Sunday and Monday so he is on his game for his radio show. Never mind he loves the game. Although football is his life...he doesn't mind distractions from me. Even my own mother wouldn't tolerate interruptions on NFL Sunday. It has to be quiet...except for her whooping and hollering. She gets a little excited. My brother and I...we do not share her enthusiasm let's just say and sometimes...I'm sure she wonders if we are adopted.

While drinking his beer and enjoying the games with his brothers...I found myself "bothering" him. He didn't seem to flinch.

ME: Would you still like me if I was 300 plus pounds?

NFL MAN: Of course, I would. I love your heart. That's what I'm attracted to. Baby, I would bring you breakfast in bed, kiss your forehead, tell you what a Princess you are...and hand you a Diet Book. [laughing]

ME: Nice.

*****************

NFL MAN: So...how much do you like football, really?

ME: I like you.

NFL MAN: Aw, baby. That's sweet. What about the game?

ME: Let's just say my mom is a football freak. She gets way into the game. I can't even stand to be in the same room when football is on. She scares the shit out of me with her hollering. I didn't inherit any of that fanfare.

NFL MAN: Really? Is your mom single? [giggling]

*******************

NFL MAN: Who's your favorite team?

ME: I guess the Vikings because I'm originally from there.

NFL MAN: Really? One of my best friends plays for the Vikings.

ME: Yeah?

NFL MAN: Yep. [ name withheld to protect the innocent] Why do you have a Colts sweatshirt?

ME: Because I went to Indiana for a class and needed a warm sweatshirt at the airport.

NFL MAN: Uh. Huh. So...do you think you might switch teams?

ME: You mean...like the Philadelphia Eagles?

NFL MAN: Uh. Huh. You know that's my team, baby.

ME: You don't say? I don't think they have pretty colors.

NFL MAN: What?

ME: You know. I'm all about fashion.

NFL MAN: I thought green was your favorite color?

ME: Well, it is. But not that shade of green.

NFL MAN: Why you gotta be like that?

ME: [giggling]

****************************

ME: What would you do if I got pregnant?

NFL MAN: Marry you and love you and our baby.

ME: Would you still take a fat and pregnant girl to the Superbowl?

NFL MAN: Yep. I would take you with no arms and no legs.

ME:Sure you would.

NFL MAN: I would. What would you do if you got pregnant?

ME: Check myself into the funny farm.

NFL MAN: *blink*blink*

************************

NFL MAN: What scares you, copper?

ME: Heights.

NFL MAN: Really?

ME: Yep. What scares you?

NFL MAN: Spiders and snakes.

ME: I'll protect you.

NFL MAN: *blink*blink*

ME: I kill snakes with a shovel in the summer all the time.

NFL MAN: *blink*blink*

ME: Scared?

NFL MAN: Yep. Remind me to only visit in the hibernating season.

ME: *blink*blink*

NFL MAN: Now I'm a little freaked out. I fail to see what any of this has to do with football.

ME: Oh. Is the big man scared?

NFL MAN: Spiders and snakes.

On The Sidelines

2011-11-20T15:49:00.000-08:00

So...we like to trip up NFL MAN's friends. Especially, Detective Action. He gets all squirrelly. Detective Action and I were working on a search warrant. He and the other cops made me climb a rickety old ladder with a broken rung to take a fantastic picture. I am deathly afraid of heights. As I was descending the ladder... Detective Action's phone rang. I only knew what happened on the other end because NFL MAN later told me...

NFL MAN: What's up?

ACTION: Nothin', man. Just working with Fargo on this homicide.

NFL MAN: Oh, yeah. Tell my wife I love her.

ACTION: Ah..sick. You two are going to make me puke.

ME: What?

ACTION: Nothing. I am not repeating that crap. Ick.

ME: *blink*blink*

ACTION: You two need to calm down.

ME: What? What did he say? [knowing full well NFL MAN said something juicy and was messing with him]

ACTION: I'm going to go take some Rolaids.

****************************

After a long day of work, we took a break for lunch...

ACTION: You know when he's on the field, you will have to be in the stands. They don't let women on the sidelines.

ME: So what? I can see all those tight buns better from the stands. And all of them.

ACTION: *blink*blink*

ME: Bam! Got you on that one.

****************************

ACTION: You know, he's my friend. He's like family.

ME: Oh yeah.

ACTION: Yeah. You can't be messing up our man stuff.

ME: Oh yeah.

ACTION: Yeah.

ME: Oh yeah. [sticking my corn dog all the way in my mouth] Can you do that?

ACTION: [laughing]You are a sick freak.

ME: I win!

****************************

NFL MAN and I had a little alone time...

ME: I think Action is a little jealous.

NFL MAN: Oh yeah.. [giggling]

ME: I think he's afraid you will stop spending time with him.

NFL MAN: Oh, poor guy. I will have to pay extra attention so the little fella doesn't get all pouty pants.

ME: [giggling] I'll send some corn dogs.

NFL MAN: Corn dogs?

ME: Yep. Seems he loves them.

NFL MAN: Strange.
*******************************

Moose on the Loose

2011-11-20T07:23:00.000-08:00

In the summer events that the old dogs developed killer instincts to make each other extinct, I found a puppy for Bug so the heartache wouldn't be so great when the Big O and Magnum are put down. I have prolonged it enough and the problem continues to boil between the two dogs. I wish there was another way, but I don't trust either of them with my child or other dogs...other people. It's one of the hardest things for me right now to deal with on top of everything else.

Puppies.

I forgot how much work they are.

He is a spry young feller. My daughter is in love with him.

Most pics... look like this....

Or this...

He's like a typical baby...eat...poop...drink...pee...sleep. I can't keep up. When I think I am keeping up...he reminds me it's feeding time again.

Is 44 too old to have a baby?

Field Goal

2011-11-17T08:36:00.000-08:00

NFL Man and I have been discussing what is important to us in life. The discussions get very in depth and serious...that is until I break up the tone with my uncanny humor. With his amazing life and my mundane one...we are surprisingly on the same page.

He likes isolation...living away from people. I motion that.

He is a big family person. Ditto.

He wants to grow old with someone and share all things in life, travel, family, make memories. Heart melted on that one.

I'm competitive. He's competitive. Not with each other.

The funny thing is...he got upset at me when we talked about him in the sense I thought he was a superstar.

NFL MAN: I'm not a superstar. I'm a regular person.

ME: Look at your life. You are a superstar.

NFL MAN: Regular person, babe.

This bothered him greatly, so I had to explain.

We talked about what I meant as a superstar.

I definitely did NOT have this image in my head...

SNL photo credit

He had a different definition in mind...deriving from the Merriam-Webster dictionary...

Definition of SUPERSTAR

: a star (as in sports or the movies) who is considered extremely talented, has great public appeal, and can usually command a high salary

: one that is very prominent or is a prime attraction <a diplomatic superstar>

I explained...superstar meant a great person inside and outside...not fame or fortune-but that may be inclusive if it was a part of someone's life; someone who does good, achieved some type of personal greatness-big or small, but is a great human being, and is a crusader for positive change. I told him superstars still make mistakes and sometimes they fall from grace, but it how they rise up that makes them special.

This--- I was referring to him as a wonderful person who is focused on doing good. I emphasized his philanthropy, inner city youth centers, motivational speeches, and benefit work. He did it all for free. Because he wanted to make a difference. "Superstar" incorporates giving more than taking. That's what it means to me.

But I understand his perspective. He's ready for a change in his career. An upward movement for new challenges, but still focusing on the old. Everyone puts pressure on him because of his NFL career and coming up from the ghetto. They expect big things. Always wanting something...usually money. He talked to me on the phone while he walked down the streets to go to a local store where he grew up. "Mr. NFL"...I heard a lot in the background. Most of them just wanted to say they knew him and reminisce about football, while others asked for handouts. I could hear the difference in him when someone wanted to say "hello" versus wanted him for money.

He tributes his success in life to his parents and his upbringing with Christian influence...even if it was in the hood in Chicago. He was raised right. He feared his parents and disappointing him just like I did. He NEVER touched drugs. EVER. His outlet was sports and he excelled at it.

Now...he is trying to influence the importance of family and structure in his outreach centers for inner city youth. Sports was his way out of the ghetto...but he worked hard. His speeches detail family importance, goal setting, and going after what you desire to achieve...and doing good...staying out of trouble...respecting people...even if you fall down or fall short of your goals. The basics. He said things are simple to fix, but society makes it complicated.

I couldn't be more proud to be with this man.

A River Runs Through It

2011-11-16T07:10:00.000-08:00

A big announcement that all vacation was cancelled for patrol during the holidays because of the shortage of officers and a new training program they are implementing. Yesterday...I was a puddle. I even checked with my doctor to see if I was going through menopause.

It started out with ass chewings...cancelling everyone's vacations...a phone call from my friend that my dog destroyed my house which I couldn't even deal with being 30 miles away and shit I hope he didn't eat furniture or destroy something precious to me or we were having dog for dinner..and being inundated with evidence processing on recent burglaries. So there I was processing...fingerprinting...writing report after report....

A call came from dispatch for me to go to Probation and Parole to capture one of my Burglary/Strong Arm Robbery suspects. I dropped everything and boogied...

She was a liar...a drunk...a doper...

On THIS day...she was sober.

I handcuffed her and put her in my patrol car. She was polite. Did hell freeze over? I received another phone call of dumpage and the tears just started flowing uncontrollably. WTF? I'm in uniform...and there I was...sobbing. Fuck Me In The Ass. With. A. Robbery. Suspect. Someone beat me with a stick so I have reason to cry.

MARY ROBBER: You all right?

ME: [sniffing, wiping my eyes] Yep. Sorry. Bad day. It's the pits when LIFE gets in the way of work, you know?

MARY ROBBER: Yeah. I know.

We arrived at the station. I exited the vehicle and opened the door for MARY. I am sure I looked like a train wreck. When I cry...it's red eyes and blotchy face.

MARY ROBBER: Hey. Look at me.

ME: What? [wiping mascara from my face]

MARY ROBBER: Ok. Wipe your left eye.

ME: [wiped my left eye]

MARY ROBBER: Good. Ok. Now...suck it up, girlfriend. Don't let them see you cry.

ME: [burst out laughing] Ok. Get my big girl panties on.

MARY ROBBER: Yes. Ok. Let's go. Be a tough cop. You are wearing the uniform. Do it.

Are. You. Effing.Kidding. Me.

I laughed so hard I had to leave the room before I started the tape. Maybe Mary Robber wasn't so bad after all....NAH...she robbed a guy with the aid of her boyfriend who had been previously convicted of homicide...and you guessed it..he was released back to society...yeah...two months ago. They had beaten a man after breaking into his house and stole from him.

I took her to the station where I tried to conduct a video taped interview. All the rooms were loaded with other suspects and all the detectives were going to be using them for long hours as they were working on one of my OTHER aggravated burglary cases. So...I had to do my work the old fashioned way...audio recording...advice of rights form. Good thing I came from the stone age of cop work. The new guys would have panicked.

At this moment in time...she was partially human. Until I started the tape. Funny how things are in life.

At the end of the day I was assigned to the city council meeting to guard against any riots. One of the citizens was skinny...dressed in biker attire...long hair...mullet...beard...walked with a limp. He looked like he just came off the set of Deliverance crossed with Mad Max. Scare me. What he said...was amazing...here is what struck me the most...

" City Council...I come here tonight to give you a part of my experience in hopes you change your mind about the smoking ban. I'm a pitiful man...crippled...half blind...injured on a job that changed my life. I got a lawsuit from a crash on the job. I took that money...I didn't waste it foolishly...I bought a business...a bar. Yes. I bought myself a job. I moved here from California. I researched the United States before I came to Wyoming. I chose Wyoming because it was the last free state. Now..smoking is bad for us. So is drinking. But we all have a choice. Let us choose. It's a big thing around the US right now for smoking bans. But I ask you that you let us business owners choose our clientele. Let us choose whether we have smoking or no smoking or even separate sections. We all know smoke is bad. We are adults that can choose where we dine and drink. Don't take another freedom away. We have lost too many. Wyoming is the Equality State. It's also the last FREE state. Don't wipe it off the map."

I wrote that down. He actually made me smile during the meeting. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop when he spoke. At that moment...all was good.

When I opened the door to my home after the long day...I could only laugh. I was certain Dennis the Menace had been there. It was utter chaos. Blankets..pillows...everywhere. Mail..everywhere. All my plants...dug out and scattered all over like he had a hay day in the dirt. Dog toys...everywhere. Dog dishes...under the TV and stereo. And there he was....with black dirt all over his face in the kennel where my friend had stuck him after finding Chernobyl. Yes...Chernobyl really happened in my living room. The government lied to us. I would have taken pics...but I was too overwhelmed.

There were no words.

After my shock wore off and I moved from my frozen position...I cuddled and kissed my dog and whispered to him...

ME: Moose. Buddy. We need to talk about your crack problem. This is an intervention...

Fumbles

2011-11-14T21:05:00.000-08:00

They are calling us the Grim Reapers...Team 79. Dead bodies. Every shift. Another fatal accident, four dead bodies. Suicides. We see dead people...like... a lot. The fatal crash...was DRUNK AL...huffing Dust Off. Apparently it works in reverse.

I ran code to another injury accident and yet another...

The phone rang...

Yes...I picked it up.

NFL MAN: Hi, babe!

ME: Hey.

NFL MAN: Apparently this is a bad time. I hear sirens.

ME: Yeah. Damn people won't get out of my way. It's OK. I can multi task. I'm even punching in information on the computer.

NFL MAN: Nice. If only the public knew.

Well...I guess...they know now..

************************

Relationships conversations sometimes are odd..or interesting...or something...

NFL MAN: Where do you want to live, if you could live anywhere?

ME: In the country, several acres, trees, old house, big barns...privacy. And you?

NFL MAN: I don't care where...just with you.

Ok. Now he is sucking up.

****************************

ME: Would you tattoo my name on your body?

NFL MAN: If you wanted me to.

ME: Anywhere?

NFL MAN: Anywhere? Like down there.

ME: Yep.

NFL MAN: Is that what you want? I'll do it.

ME: Uh. No. I think it is dorky when people tattoo their boyfriend's name or vice versa. What happens when it doesn't work out? Hello.

NFL MAN: Whew. I am so glad you weren't serious. I hate needles.

*********************************

NFL MAN: I just called to tell you something.

ME: What's that?

NFL MAN: Promise you won't think I'm crazy? I'm serious.

ME: Um. Maybe.

NFL MAN: Maybe? That isn't a promise.

ME: That's the best I can give you.

NFL MAN: Fine. I told my parents you were the one. I told them I wanted to grow old with you.

ME: *blink*blink*

NFL MAN: Hello.

ME: *blink*blink*

NFL MAN: I know it's too soon. I want to treat you like a Princess...give you the world. I will wait. How ever long it takes. I have never felt like this about anyone. I'm not crazy. I know what I want. I want you, Fargo.

ME: Be honest with me.

NFL MAN: Always, baby.

ME: Are you working for Hallmark?

NFL MAN: [giggling] Shit. I can't even spell Hallmark.

ME: Bull. [giggling] You have two college degrees.

NFL MAN: Oh, wait. Here it is on the back of this card. H.A.L.L.M.A.R.K. Yep. Let me read the rest of the card to you....HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

ME: [giggling] It's not my birthday.

NFL MAN: Damn. I knew I was in the wrong section.

Scream...The Original

2011-11-14T05:04:00.000-08:00

The wind was the same speed as the temperature. 60 mph. Beat me. Rollovers. Trailers flying through the air. Fatal accidents. And crazies.

I contacted a citizen on a complaint. She wanted her ex-boyfriend to BELIEVE her and it was the House of Popo that had to do the convincing. I think everyone must have thought I was deaf, because we started out in all caps...and remained there for the entire day.

SARA: OFFICER! I WANT HIM TO KNOW I AM OVER HIM.

ME: Just tell him that and go on with your life.

SARA: HE KEEPS BOTHERING ME. TELLING ME HE HAS ALL THESE GIRLS AND I NEED TO GET OVER HIM. I AM SO OVER HIM. I COVERED UP HIS TATTOO.

ME: OH...K.

SARA: YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. THAT MEANS IT IS OVER. I CAN'T UNDO THAT.

ME: No. I'm sure not.

SARA: TELL HIM!

ME: Sara, it's really not the job of the police to relay messages. Do you have any criminal matters you need help with?

SARA: WHAT THE FUCK! OFFICER! I CALLED YOU HERE TO HELP ME. YOU NEED TO HELP ME. TELL HIM!

ME: No.

SARA: YOU GUYS ARE NO HELP. TELL HIM, PLEASE, OFFICER! I CAN'T STAND IT ANYMORE.

ME: Give me his damn number. After this...you will not call unless it is important. GOT IT?

SARA: Yes.

Dialed the damn dude.

ME: Michael?

MICHAEL: Yes.

ME: Sara is over you. She even covered up your tattoo on her body. Don't contact her anymore, OK?

MICHAEL: Oh, no, mam. I understand. I have a new girlfriend anyway. I just wanted her to leave me alone.

ME: Good. We have an understanding. And I'm so happy you've moved on because you surely would have gone deaf if you stayed with this one.

MICHAEL: Yes, mam.

ME: Have a nice day. [hung up]

SARA: What did he say?

ME: He said he is so over you that he is in love with his new girlfriend and they will probably get married and have several lovely children. He also promised never to contact you again and to let you lead a good life. He also hopes your new tattoo is awesome and it totally removes his name because he never wants that to be seen again.

SARA: I DON'T KNOW WHY I CALLED YOU GUYS. HE ISN'T OVER ME! HE DOESN'T LOVE HER! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! THANKS FOR NOTHING.

ME: Have a nice day! Let me know if I can help you in the future.

And so began the screaming matches...yet another satisfied customer...

ME: Dianna, you need to stop making these harassing phone calls. I am giving you a warning now, but if you continue, you will go to jail.

DIANNA: OH, YEAH? YOU CAN'T STOP ME. I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT. THERE IS NO LAW.

ME: Oh, yes, there is. Lucky for you it is covered by state statute and city ordinance. Go ahead. It's a free country. Do what you want. I will be there to respond either way. I hope you like silver. Is silver your color?

DIANNA: FUCK YOU, COP! I DON'T GIVE A SHIT! THIS IS FUCKING BULLSHIT.

ME: BULLSHIT IS YOU YELLING. DO YOU LIKE IT WHEN YOU GET YELLED AT? FUCK YOU! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT? CAN'T ANYONE ACT LIKE A DECENT HUMAN BEING ANYMORE? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YELLED AT ME TODAY? YOU ARE THE FINAL STRAW. SO GET A CLUE. SHUT THE FUCK UP. QUIT BEING A BITCH AND MAKING NASTY PHONE CALLS. GOT IT?

DIANNA: Yes. Fine!

ME: Fine.

Bitches. I hate 'em. Can I have my drunk slobbering bums back? Or how about a good armed robber? Male prostitute? A big fight?

Nights. One more week and real crime begins. Hallelujah!

SO MANY MEN....TOO LITTLE TIME

2011-11-10T07:21:00.000-08:00

Some people just capture your attention. PO-lice attention. Like mine.

He was standing on the street and I looked at him. He swayed a little and staggered off. Then ran and ducked into a building. Oh, hell no. This man wants me and he's shy. Probably wanted me to take him to jail. I had already started to turn around before he booked it.

I went inside the Christian charity he had tried to escape to and started looking around. In the front lobby, of course, no one seemed to have seen this guy. I knew better. As I went up the steps to the second floor, I heard doors slam. Detective GunnyHighway came up behind me.

GUNNY: Saw you. Saw him. Thought you might need some assistance.

ME: [giggling]Little mister ran upstairs, I think. Me thinks he is drunk and has a warrant.

GUNNY: Aha. YOU UP THERE! GET DOWN HERE NOW!

ME: Hey, that's my job. I wanted to sneak up on him.

DRUNK AL: What?

ME: Why you runnin' from me?

DRUNK AL: I don't know. [hiccup]

ME: Been drinking today?

DRUNK AL: Yeah. I ain't gonna lie. Got a bottle in my coat.

ME: Alright. Got any ID?

DRUNK AL: Yeah. It's...ah....

Slam. Bam. Thank you, Gunny.

DRUNK AL: Hey! Dude! I was just helping you out. Geez.

GUNNY: Don't be reaching into your pockets. We'll get it for you.

Anydrunkbum, he was wanted. And got arrested. And got pissy with me because I was picking on him. As I'm escorting him out of the building in cuffs, my phone rang in my side pocket of my pants. Now...I haven't been to work for a long time, and I was training rookies, so I was relearning how to be the PoPo all over. Most often, I wouldn't even carry my phone unless I was going inside somewhere for a long time. Definitely, wouldn't answer it on a call unless it was the Sarg or some other cop exchanging information. If we use our phones for personal calls or texts, its on down time. Out of habit of answering the phone, I had my left hand gripping the bad dude, and reached in and grabbed the phone with my right without even looking at the caller ID.

ME: Fargo.

GUNNY: You got this? I'm going to go.

ME: Yep. Thanks.

NFL MAN: Hey, baby! I just wanted to call you and tell you I'm thinking about you.

ME: Oh shit. [hung up the phone] Get in there and quit your whining!

DRUNK AL: It's too small. I can't fit in there.

GUNNY: Get in the police car..NOW!

ME: I'm not going to sit here all day and debate the size of your g-ride to jail. Get in there. Bigger guys than you have fit in there fine. It's not meant for comfort.

DRUNK AL: Fine. I'm gettin'. Just give me some time.

The phone rang again.

ME: Fargo.

NFL MAN: Hey, babe! We got disconnected. Is everything OK?

ME: I don't have all day.

NFL MAN: What?

ME: Sorry. I was talking to this other guy.

NFL: MAN: Is this a bad time?

ME: No. Hang on. Let me call you back.

DRUNK AL: You confusin' the man. Either tell him to hang on or call him back. Not both. You confusin' the man.

ME: Get in the damn car. Shut it.

NFL MAN: Ok. [giggling]

ME: Not you. I'm sorry. I will call you after I take this one to jail. [click]

DRUNK AL: DUDE! Run like hell! She's a bitch!

ME: Hey, dumbass. I already hung up. Nice try.

DRUNK AL: Oh. [big cheesy smile] Just helping a fellow man out...saving them.

ME: Yeah. I'm so glad you are on a crusade to save man.

Anytoomanymen, I called NFL Man back. He was very sweet. His voice was a ray of sunshine in my day. I did, however, rethink having my phone and safety. Oy. And it's a good thing he was understanding. Just a word to all you girls....give your man full attention on the phone or texting. No hasty calls or messages. And don't answer your phone when you have another man in cuffs. Just sayin'.

Open The Gates

2011-11-10T06:33:00.000-08:00

I heard the giggling before I even said hello. It was familiar. He was a happy sort and always joking or laughing. We tease him about his giggle. It's rather distinct.

DETECTIVE ACTION JACKSON: What have you done to my boy? He's all fucked up. [giggling]

ME: What are you talking about?

ACTION: You know what I'm talking about. He's all kind of fucked up. He is crazy about you. He can't even focus.

ME: Oh. [giggling] Well, that's nice to hear. I didn't do anything. We have just been talking.

ACTION: Hmmm. Yeah. Whatever. The man acts like you are the only thing in the world. He is crazy about you. What are you doing?

ME: I'm serious. That's it. Just talking. I don't understand why a guy like that is interested in me anyway. He could have any one he wanted.

ACTION: Damn girl. Quit being so hard on yourself. You are sexy as hell and you need to know it. Besides you are real. A lot of the people he runs into want him for his money or the status. He's real. Down to earth. Just like you.

ME: I'm down to earth alright. Oh wait until he sees how close to the earth I really am. Dirt girl. Tractor. Whacking rattlesnakes with a shovel. I live in the sticks.

ACTION: Yeah. Maybe you want to save some of that for later. [giggling] Beeeeee the Princess.

ME: Beeee the Princess.

ACTION: Yeah. Then you can spring it on him. [giggling]

ME: He lives in a frickin' gated community with other famous and rich people. I am freaking out.

ACTION: So do you.

ME: *blink*blink* I don't think cattleguards and crossbars are considered gated.

Public Service Annoucement

2011-11-07T20:43:00.000-08:00

Regular blog posting and catching up with everyone's blog will begin tomorrow. I apologize for being so far behind. It isn't personal as I really have missed reading everyone's posts. The last few days have been class and sleep and distractions of the male variety.

Crossfit was a flop today as I ripped open my stitches and bled clear through my vest. It is still painful each day...but today was worse with my vest and the weight lifting. Awesome. Guess I needed to wait. Bracing myself... to get chewed out by the doctor.

Anybloodflood, I have been exhausted and preoccupied with Bug and NFL Man. Today was my first day of real cop work. It was uneventful except for the workout malfunction.

Smoochies to all of you!

Bug and Boys

2011-11-07T20:30:00.000-08:00

BUG: Mommy! I have some exciting news.

ME: What's that?

BUG: I have two boys fighting over me at school.

ME: *blink*blink*

BUG: Mommy! [giggling] Isn't that cool?

ME: *blink*blink*

BUG: Mom!

ME: Apparently I will have to introduce myself to these boys in uniform. Do they know your mom is the Popo and that they may have embarked upon a criminal matter?

BUG: No. They know daddy is a sheriff because they have seen him in uniform. They didn't do anything wrong. They like me. [giggling] Isn't that cute?

ME: Cute is for bunnies. Your dad in uniform at the school. He didn't scare them?

BUG: Nope. [giggling] Look. They texted they love me. [shows me the disturbing text messages]

ME: Huh. Well, they need to meet your mom, then. Your mom isn't a weenie. I will make them stammer in their britches and go find another lass.

BUG: Mom. You make no sense.

ME: Oh, you can't date until you are 40, little missy. Don't be getting all gaga at 11 over these silly boys. Does that make sense?

BUG: Yes, I know, I know! Stop! [gives me attitude stop sign] Believe me. I hear it all the time. You are such a nag about it.

ME: *blink*blink*

BugOrama

2011-11-07T20:18:00.000-08:00

The drive to Denver was wretched. Somewhere in Wyoming...the roads cleared up...

Super! Once I reached the Heartland...the weather was amazing....a view from my future barn looking out to the paddock...notice the green..like everywhere...

And at the dining room table with my realtor...it was serene...

To answer the mystery...yes, I will move someday. No, I will not bring my House of Popo with me. First I have to sell my River War House.

NFL Man called me often throughout the days I was in the Heartland and we talked for hours long into the night...throughout the early morning hours. Yeah. Sleep? None. I was used to that anyway. We really enjoyed each other's company. He is also a big history and wine person as am I, so we giggled and talked about our travels. The most fun was talking reminiscing about college and him telling me about his NFL career and current works. Busy man. He found time to text me in between his engagements...little thoughtful things. He was a sweet and kind as I remembered him. He didn't forget who he was despite the fame and fortune. It was nice. Perhaps it was the dead body class that intrigued him...

The last night after class I spent traveling around and exploring...visiting places I had been and finding new. Sadly...I had to depart and return home. I couldn't wait to see Bug...but part of me wanted to be there. She was excited to share the pics with me and wanted to go next time. Her eyes lit up when I told her about NFL Man...

BUG: Mommy! You got a date?

ME: [giggling] You make it sound like a miracle happened.

BUG: I don't know but I know I worried about you getting old and not finding a man.

ME: Why?

BUG: Who is going to take care of you?

ME: You. I will make you fetch me beers...and rub my feet...push my wheel chair near the river so I can fish...and cook for me every day. One day you will have to change my diapers.

BUG: MOMMY! I'm not doing it! You can't make me.

Oy. Perhaps we can skip the diaper part, anyway.

Meet Me In INDY

2011-11-03T18:00:00.000-07:00

The lieutenant ordered me to write my late reports from being sick before I flew out. Nice. Nothing like going in two hours early before your flight leaves to write paper.

As I exited my car, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted him standing there, waiting...

THE ROOK: Hello, Sunshine!

ME: Hello, Rook. How are you?

THE ROOK: Great. I miss you.

ME: I miss you, too.

We chatted for awhile before I did my reports. Beat me. The roads had been icy anyway from the recent storm. I was worn out from driving for an hour already just to get to town. After finishing my work, I raced to the airport on skis. It was empty. Odd.

The lady greeted me with a smile which was the first clue. TSA peeps don't smile unless they are on crack. I went to the counter and talked to United employees. Apparently, my flight was cancelled...all the others were full until one o'clock the next day. They wanted to book me on a flight 200 miles away to the west.

ME: Hell, book me in Denver. If I'm driving, I might as well go there.

UNITED: The interstates are closed.

ME: Not by the time I get there.

And so they did. On my way, I stopped at the gas station. My freakin' gas tank lid thingy was iced shut. Dang it. Princess fingernails. Oy. It took me a few, but I carefully scraped it off without breaking a nail. Got it filled and off...for 6 hours of treacherous driving. I slid all over the highway. And just as I expected...the roads were open by the time I got down to Shy Town. What was I thinking?

So back at the airport....

I received a call from a number I didn't recognize. The voice I did. I. It was from someone I had known 22 years ago in college. I hadn't been good friends, but friendly. He was friends with some of my good buddies on the football team.

ME: Action give you my number?

NFL MAN: Yeah. Is it alright?

ME: It's alright. Don't get comfortable.

NFL MAN: [giggling] I like sassy.

We talked for quite some time. NFL Players liked fast women. I wondered if he could draw his gun faster than I could shoot it down.That's probably not what he had in mind.

My plane was delayed again...in Denver. Then they sent me to the wrong gate. I found myself running to get on the plane. By then my stitches were bothering me and I was sore...crabby...and wouldn't you know it...a crying baby all the way to the Heartland. Seriously? They only poop and eat and sleep at that stage. LADY, DO SOMETHING! Not getting any sleep...I got my rental car and had no troubles getting into the hotel...except the damn CITY credit card got denied. OY. I used my own.

I settled into my hotel room with down comforter and down pillows...Thank you, City....for nothing. Obviously. Cancelled plane. Cancelled card. Doh.

Just as I was clicking on the television, I got a call...it was him...again. We talked about our lives for 3 hours. He was a gentleman. Then...

NFL MAN: You like that city, don't you?

ME: I love it. It's clean, beautiful, and the history is amazing.

NFL MAN: Meet me there. In INDY.

ME: What?

NFL MAN: Will you be my date for the Superbowl? I'd like to take you to the Player's Ball. It's a formal. Everyone will be there...all the players. I will introduce you, show you around the city. I'll take care of everything.

ME: Don't you think we should go to a movie first or dinner? How about a beer?

NFL MAN: [giggling] We will do that, too, when I come to town. I have to let them know if I'm bringing a guest. Come on, baby, do me the honors. I'll be a perfect gentleman.

ME: Are you on crack? You haven't seen me in 22 years.

NFL MAN: You know I have never gotten into the drug thing. I'm serious. And I saw your picture. ACTION showed it to me.

ME: I knew it. He is in so much trouble.

We talked until I fell asleep at one o'clock in the morning. The next morning on my class break, my phone blew up...

DETECTIVE ACTION JACKSON: What the hell? What did you do? He asked you to the Superbowl? I just get to go to a game? I'm his buddy. You know, he's famous. Damn, girl....you are going to get some DICK!

ME: Nice. I can always count on my boys helping me out.

stranded

2011-11-02T16:08:00.000-07:00

Why is it that a girl stuffing her face in an airport with dark chocolate covered cherries is considered piggy but a Big Mac is just a meal? That's right bitches...I need some red wine to go with those.

You guessed it. I'm stuck in an airport waiting to go to the Heartland to go to class and to visit my realtor and tour my new home...well...future home...as soon as I sell the River War Haus.

Details when I get to the hotel.

Frankenstein's Ghost

2011-11-01T12:49:00.000-07:00

Lots of Marilyn Manson's look alikes. No real deal. Eh. It's Halloween. Trick.

We did sustain a triple fatality on my watch. No trick. No treat.

My Halloween was pretty UNeventful...scary movies...wine...relaxation...well, what I could do being on the edge of my seat.

I did have a sighting.....an apparition of sorts...

Frankenstein the cat.

He scared me.

He's naughty like that.

SPOOKtacular

2011-10-31T11:15:00.000-07:00

Marilyn Manson is in concert tonight. Can you imagine the crime sprees with that... topped with the normal Halloween brawls? That is just about enough to send a cop into an adrenaline rush right there as we don our Halloween costumes of blue...the same as last year. We're cheap like that.

Yippee! Action.. A.C.T.I.O.N.

Wait.

I'm at home, laid up from surgery...watching scary movies by myself...drinking wine...not mixing them with pain killers...don't like those things. I bet the city is going to be shorthanded without me which means more calls per cop. BWWAHHHHAA!

Shit.

I'm going to miss out on all the fun.

Happy Halloween.

Fargo Updates and A Vampire

2011-10-29T21:19:00.000-07:00

Several people have asked me what happened between Downtown and myself. We were just friends. We had never dated or even kissed. Lately he has taken a depression route beyond what I can cope with or try to bring him up to half par. Everyone comments he is on the road to self destruction. I think so, too. There comes a time when someone else's burdens are too heavy to carry. I think Laura B hit some great points in her comments. See two posts back on FISHing.

Downtown and I's last conversation was difficult...snippet below...

DOWNTOWN: I don't want to talk about myself anymore.

ME: Why not? Most people can talk about most anything to someone who is a friend or someone they trust. It's Ok. I still love you no matter what.

DOWNTOWN: I don't like to talk about myself.

ME: Because you don't like yourself?

DOWNTOWN: [silence]I'm done talking about myself.

I struggled to find a way to reach him and then I hit the eject button. Two days later, he and I actually yelled at each other. It was ugly. We apologized, but things were different. My trust for him as a friend was gone....no need to explain why...it is a long and difficult story. Detective Fedora later stepped in and told me he was manipulating and didn't respect women...among other negative things. I guess I always knew he manipulated me, but I thought he respected me. The truth came to fruition later this week. I think what was true was lost in February and from then on, he was using me. So I let it go. For real. For the first time this week, I felt the weight off my shoulders. I'm OK. Bug doesn't know we had another fight...she adores him...so I will let her have that.

*************

We finished the big ranch landscaping project and it turned out magnificent. Whew...pooped.

*************

The Bug went as a vampire bride to her school's evening party and carnival with trunk or treating. She lost her veil. I thought when I saw her she and Grandma did a great job with her makeup, but I was like....where is her undershirt....I DID NOT raise a vampire ho. Tweens. Gotta love the little Bug...she is the sassiest, cutest thing....and doesn't she look mischievious?

*************

The medical tests were for a tumor that was found in my back underneath my shoulder recently...well two months ago...but I was in denial. Stressful, but turned out to be benign. Friday I showed up for a follow up visit to my wonderful doctor...female...addressed it soooo...well...

DOC: Hi, there! Ready?

ME: Uh. Ready for what? What's the big deal?

DOC: Surgery.

ME: Uh. Don't you usually schedule those things with the patient? Liikkke...talk about it?Springing things is what cops do.

DOC: We did it for you behind your back, no pun intended. It's benign. It's not attached to your lungs. Simple dimple. Let's take it out. We've got everything ready to go. Now.

ME: Uhhhhhh....Ok.

DOC: Is now not a good time?

ME: I guess. Let's get it over with it.

DOC: OK. Get naked.

ME: *blink*blink* It's a good thing I like you.

DOC: [laughing]

Once on the table.....

DOC: This anesthetic is going to be painful and we are going deep. You will feel a sharp poke. Oops.

ME: Oops? Excuse me. I think I need a new doctor.

DOC: [laughing]Not something you usually want your doctor to say, right? Needed to take the cap off. Next one is deep, this is topical. After the first slice and dice...haha...it is Halloween [evil laugh]...I will inject more. You won't feel a thing.

ME: Are doctors supposed to talk to their patients like this?

DOC: Only you, cop lady. [giggling]

... I think I dozed off...

Afterward....the doc was concerned it grew so fast in such a short amount of time, but got it all out. 2 cm wide by 3 cm deep. I still hurt like hell. I can't reach to dress and change the bandages. I have to go down the road and ask my neighbor for help. Beat me. Refused pain killers. So...here I rest...and whine...wish it were wine not whine. But I'm cancer free...because I never had it. Thank you, JESUS!

Police FLOW Chart

2011-10-28T05:21:00.000-07:00

Here is something fun from my friends at Criminal Justice Degrees Blog...check it out!

Via: Criminal Justice Degrees Blog

FISHing

2011-10-27T23:01:00.000-07:00

I came to a realization today. Not that I hadn't realized it before, but the point of the AHA! moment finally set in. Maybe that is what God intended.

I wasn't even knee deep in any wine when the moment hit me.

I know one thing...HE maketh me learn everything the hard way.

Am I cursed or blessed with the "fixer" personality? Always forgiving, understanding, there for everyone...trying to make things better, make people laugh, encouraging...I'm the one to take care of people. I do it at home...on the streets...with everything. I even used to think I could cure all the sick and hurt animals I would drag home to my mom and dad. Now I know when to use the gun and when to use the vet wrap. Why can't I apply that to people? Ha. Just kidding.

One of our cops is a minister..Detective Fedora...and asked me that question...are you cursed or blessed with being a fixer? He said he felt I was a blessing, but I may be cursed with too much forgiveness and tolerance..yet he said it was God's way. So confusing.

He is my sounding board at times when I get stuck in my life. He took me aside and gave me advice..not only his regular advice...but looked me straight in the eye and was firm. This I know is "his I mean it" look.

Fedora ended the conversation with telling me he felt I could be a warrior for Christ in my own subtle way. It was the only part of his conversation that made me smile because most of it was doom and gloom and warning me of my impending crash of failure and struggling with Downtown. He said don't walk away...but run. I had done that but felt guilty for doing so.

Not today.

The release was the AHA! moment I needed.

Maybe it came when my trailer started fishtailing on the bridge homeward bound straight into an oncoming semi. I really panicked. Actually I think I peed myself. I gunned it and pulled it out just in time. The tears were streaming down my face but everything was alright. I was glad Bug was not with me. I made it home with my soiled pants and trailer in tow. The entire ordeal was quite symbolic of my screwed up forgiveness train.

Home was peace.

And I looked around my place... knowing this fall and winter I was going to be tackling all the projects by myself.. .but .I was OK with that. I also know I am alone HERE in this home..for right now. And that's OK, too. Besides I want to sell it and move to a different house...colonial...big old barn...maple trees...stone pillar and iron gate entrance...with a buggy....somewhere else....far away...for instance.

The English told me his girlfriend adored me and said I had MOXY because I live out in the middle of nowhere by myself and take care of the place, the business, the animals, blah, blah...and make it nice for Bug. She added I was very kind.

"Kind" is better than yesterday and the day before that and so on...when I put the capital "S" in stupid.

Just saying.

Buggin' Me

2011-10-26T19:16:00.000-07:00

Getting Bug back for visitation, I noticed she was full of piss and vinegar. Two ingredients prime for the Halloween season...

BABYSITTER: She needs a belt. Her underwear were hanging out and her pants were down to her knees when she got off the bus. You could see butt crack.

ME: Nice.

BUG:: Mom says I can't wear a belt.

ME: No. I have told you not to cinch it up so tight you look like Erkel and cut off your circulation.

BABYSITTER: Yep I remember those days. [pulls up Bug's shirt] Baggy pants. Did you want her to show off her undies? [laughing]

ME: Those are for later and are from Allison. You need to wear the ones that are the right size.

BUG: I don't have any clothes.

BABYSITTER: [laughing]

Yes, my child makes me look like a heathen. No clothes? She has stashes of them in her closet and dresser. Oy.

*******************************

BUG: What are you going to be for Halloween, Mom?

ME: The same costume as yesterday.

BUG: Which is what?

ME: Your bitchy mother.

*****************************

BUG: Uh. You forgot to do your job.

ME: What's that?

BUG: Putting up these spider webs.

ME: Job..done!

BUG: No it's not, they are still in the package.

ME: I was going for the realistic look...the cobwebs on the ceiling are real. Isn't that real scary?

BUG: Mom, that is gross.
************************************

BUG: You need to work harder.

ME: Excuse me?

BUG: Yeah. The smoothies and food and working out. You need to work harder.

ME: Did Officer Shiny Keys put you up to this?

BUG: No.

ME: What's the deal?

BUG: You said you were trying to reach your goal. I'm here to help. How 'bout you run and I ride my bike around you.

ME: Like last time?

BUG: Yeah.

ME: Last time you were a drill sergeant. 'Bout killed me.

BUG: I didn't have any tools.

From Zero to Hero

2011-10-25T21:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday took its toll on me. Ten hours driving...5 hours of medical testing. Beat me now.

I got pulled over in Cheyenne by the highway patrol. He asked me where I was going. I told him Denver to the (secret) health center...showed him my papers. Noting the name of the place, he changed from pasted cop smile to serious cop face.

TROOPER: I got ya clocked at 85.

ME: [whew, I was going 92 just before I saw the popo car] Yes, sir. I was not paying attention. Sorry. We need different speed regulations for airplanes on these highways. [weak smile] At least this car seems like one.

TROOPER: [weak smile] Be right back with ya, mam.

I twiddled my thumbs waiting for my ticket. Never badge another cop. I don't believe in doing that. Take my medicine (no pun intended) when I have to. He sure was taking long. Definite ticket coming.

TROOPER: [handed me the BLUE copy -woot woot-warning]I'm just giving you a warning today. Hope everything turns out and it's not serious. Looks like you were texting.

ME: [no way, Jose, I don't do that-haha]Yeah. I was actually looking for the speaker button to put my doctor on speaker. Sorry.

TROOPER: It's Ok. Have a nice day, mam.

Wyoming cops are soooo nice. [Insert promotion for Wyoming Highway Patrol]

Denver was 84 degrees and beautiful. I couldn't have picked a better day to get stabbed, jabbed, poked, prodded, scanned, x-rayed, blah, blah. Not spread over days...but all in one day. What the heck? Why waste more time? I could be shopping...or landscaping...or working as the popo. Who has time for this medical crap?

On a break...a short one...I ran to the Super Target to purchase a special blender as ordered by The Squirrel. Shake blender. Fitness training. AGAIN. Only different. It's back to Officer Shiny Keys for tuning up.

My other trainers are Sarg and The Squirrel during duty. Off duty...it's the Killer Keys. At least that's what I'm calling him here now. He's really lots of bad names in the gym.

Per their advice and instructions...I stocked my fridge with the ingredients they recommended. They brought me more whey protein, fruit, and supplements.

I finished the last test late, evening, and drove back to Wyoming. I think.

I woke up on my floor to see snow flying outside my sliding glass door. I don't remember being on the floor..like ever...but there I was. I think I was tired and must have had the car on auto pilot.

I panicked at the time and was grateful Sarg Gruffy gave me the day off to rest. I couldn't find my keys to unpack the car as I had left it in mid stride to get to the floor? Or so I must have crashed there. I think.

Finally, outside, I found my car keys in the snow. Odd. Must have dropped them there. I think.

I slept most of the day....did some odds and ends in between. I had to make my appointment at 4:00 pm.

Before I knew it, there it was, the dreaded 4. I rushed outside and drove to Officer Shiny Keys's home. He had converted his garage into a CrossFit Fantasy while being reassigned to a super secret mission. I could tell you..but I'd have to kill you.

Upon my orders from my great trainer, I embarked upon the first day of the final phase of my training. Now...it's defining muscle and building strength. It's hell to keep up with the bad guys; they are getting stronger, tougher, bigger, and meaner.

So anyworkout, there I was...again...on the floor...of his garage...killing myself. I think. It hurt. And he's persistent that I finish the exercises. It sounds naughty when I write it, but I'm only thinking about how pooped I am this minute in time. Oy. I should just stop while I'm ahead.

We ran uphill 1/4 mile with weighted backpacks and weight vests...then downhill sprints for the 1/4 mile. 20 box jumps. Repeat. 12 times as fast as you can.

All I have to ask is...where is the dang magic potion for this shit?

Caregiver Village

2011-10-25T14:06:00.000-07:00

I can't imagine what it's like to have Alzheimer's...or watch the one you love slowly disappear into it's grasp.

It's been hard to see my Aunt Sue staying so steadfast and strong while the loving uncle I grew up with has struggled with facing the diagnosis...then denial...and now the memory losses. The years my father had cancer was difficult. I didn't think at that time anything could be worse. I was wrong.

Now...on the job...I see both...cancer patients die every day here....and I chase loved ones down the street with Alzheimer's, rescue them, and encourage the families to seek help and at least get Project Lifesaver if they can't afford the expensive in home health care or a resident health home. If I had a choice, I would choose cancer.

I have to say my Aunt Sue showed me what it is to love ...really.

Without further ado...let me introduce you to Caregiver Village...
*********************************************
Family Caregivers Can Find Relief from Stress

By Sharon K. Brothers, Exec. Vice President, Caregiver Village

If you’re like a lot of family caregivers you might be feeling stressed, overworked, overscheduled, exhausted and lonely. You might feel like you’re all alone, doing a job that’s just too big, with no one cheering you on. You’re probably getting a lot of second-guessing but not much support from your family. You might be feeling like it’s just too hard. Have you ever done something really, really hard – for fun? Have you trained for a marathon, a century bike ride, a hike up a mountain? If you’ve ever done this you probably remember feeling exhausted many times during training and the event. BUT – here’s the big difference – you were doing it by choice. You were in control.

Imagine the difference between running a marathon by choice and running 26 miles because someone is forcing you to do it. The big difference is in how you experience the stress. Running a marathon – or doing anything else that’s really, really challenging – is stressful. But when you do it by choice - when you’re in control - it makes all the difference in the world. Your body interprets the stress as a good thing. You feel exhausted – but like you’ve achieved something BIG.
If you’re doing something this challenging because you feel forced to do it the negative stress can make you sick. You’re at risk for all kinds of illness, including stroke and early death, just from the negative stress.
The work of a caregiver is hard. It’s exhausting much of the time. You don’t earn a medal for doing it – you should, by the way – but you’re also doing something that’s an even greater achievement than completing a marathon. You’re giving of yourself: your time, your energy, your work. And you’re doing it selflessly.

In Caregiver Village (http://www.caregivervillage.com/), a virtual community that is filled with family caregivers caring for people with all kinds of problems, the hard work of family caregivers is celebrated. Tips, suggestions and tools to reduce the stress of caregiving abound in the Village. Even more importantly, caregivers share their stories through journaling and in group discussions, giving each other help with problems, support and encouragement. There’s even a game to give caregivers a break while they follow the travails of Cara and her friends, learning along with them how to better manage some of the tasks and stress they encounter along the way. Caregiver Village is a community specially designed for family caregivers so they no longer need to feel alone, stressed, and without choices. Instead, they can feel proud, supported and happy with the hard work, and the tremendous gift of care and time they are giving to their family.

Check it out.

And if you so feel inclined...click on my badge at the top right of my page to help the fight against Alzheimer's.

ABORTion

2011-10-23T21:38:00.000-07:00

Officer Hill Street Blues and myself responded to several 911 calls...hang ups...suicidals. One of which we should have aborted the moment we arrived. This one was called in by a daughter who said her mother wanted to kill herself and go be with her grandma in heaven.

Hill Street was on scene for a few minutes before I got there. I could hear the drunken yelling..not distressful but firm... from the street. As I got closer, I noticed several items on the porch...old carpet on the lawn and smelly nasty goo and shit everywhere. It was 70 degrees. The smell was attracting flies.

As I approached Hill Street who was talking to a drunk man and woman, another drunk woman came outside.

LIZA: Well. You sure are cute in your outfit.

ME: Uh. Yes. Cute outfit. [to Hill Street] What the hell?

HILL STREET: [whispering] Yep. Isn't it great? Hear the music?

ME: Oy.

The people were gutting the house. The man told us he lost his wife over a year ago and they were redoing it for a reverse mortgage. Big mistake, but who were we to say? He was probably going to go on a life long binge anyway. We listened to some more drunken drivel until I asked him the magic question...

ME: Anything criminal going on here?

HILL STREET: No.

ME: [grabbed the back of his shirt] backing, backing. YOU GUYS KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK. WE'RE GOING NOW!

LIZA: You know, thanks for comin'. I think my boyfriend is the one that called this bullshit in.

THELMA: No. It was my daughter. I texted her that I would rather be in heaven with grandma than clean this bullshit mess. So she called me in as suicidal.

LIZA: Damn kids.

HAROLD: I'm not much of a housekeeper since my wife died.

LIZA: Damn straight. I'd been doin' this for 3 damn months now.

ME: [pulling on Hill Street's uniform] backing. backing...and wave. OK! YOU GUYS HAVE A NICE DAY!

HILL STREET: OK. FOLKS WE ARE LEAVING.

LIZA: HEY!

HILL STREET: Yes?

LIZA: No, HER! [points to me]

ME: Yes?

LIZA: YOU are BEAUTIFUL! Damn.

ME: Oh. Thank you. [ backing up and about face turn] Have a nice day, folks!

HILL STREET: Ok. Bye now!

LIZA/THELMA/HAROLD: Bye, Officers! Sorry about the trouble.

ME: Run...run while we can.

HILL STREET: No shit. I almost disregarded you, but I had to have you see this fiasco.

ME: YOU are a fucking asshole.

HILL STREET: [laughing] I know. But wasn't that fun?

ME: *blink*blink*

Pole Bending

2011-10-23T21:08:00.000-07:00

Officer Hill Street Blues and myself had a day of disaster. After my workout, I was cruising along drinking my power shake when an accident with injury came out. We arrived on scene at the same time to find a 68 Chevy truck in a light pole. Not only that...he had run into an iron business sign...twice....and flew over the curb...and run over bushes...and backed into another electric pole...and spun out on the sod at the business..then drove into another pole. There he landed. That's called drunk driving. As you would know it, no drunks were hurt in this process.

ME: What's your name?

DUDE: I'm Fucked.

ME: Ok. Mr. Fucked. Are you injured?

DUDE: NO. I'm fucked. Fucking great. I'm so stupid.

ME: Oh...don't be so hard on yourself.

DUDE: I'm on parole, I've had two DUIs in the last three months, I have NO license, and NO INSURANCE. What do you have to say about that?

ME: You are SO fucked.

DUDE: Can you say that?

ME: I just did.

DUDE: But can you say that?

ME: Yep.

DUDE: Dude. I'm so fucked.

Man Moments with Bobbleheads

2011-10-22T20:48:00.000-07:00

One of my great crazy friends schemed while I was working this week and called me up...

CADILLAC: Get cuted up and meet me at the store at 3. I have talked you up and the owner of this business is way nice looking and single.

ME: Uh.

CADILLAC: DO IT!

It sounded like I didn't have a choice. I was curious. I knew almost everyone in town that owned a business. This business just came in and redesigned our police gym as well as sold fitness equipment all over the state. So...I got ready.

On the way into town...she called me...

CADILLAC: Oh..by the way, I saw he had a help wanted sign in his store and so I told him all about you and how you needed seasonal work after the landscaping season and that you are a cop part of the week...sooooo...what do you think?

ME I think I need to find a way out of a job interview. I want to REST!

CADILLAC: Oh, silly. This is just so you can meet him, get to know him...he might ask you out.

ME: Oh boy.

CADILLAC: DO IT! I talked you up. I told him you usually work for me in the office, but that I already had someone doing that and I couldn't fire her, so I was sending you to him. He needs a part time person from now to March.

ME: Beat me.

CADILLAC: NO! I'm serious. You might hit it off. He's fit, he's nice looking, he's rich...he's a gentleman...he's so nice.

ME: What's wrong with him? Why isn't he married? Does he have a small penis?

CADILLAC: [laughing]bwahhhahahaa! I don't know...I never checked. DO this. He's 42. He has olive skin and brown hair. Way good looking.He is such a great man.

ME: Fine. I will be there, acting like I need...yet...another job.

I sent my friend this pic and said...is this what you had in mind? It's all for you, baby! LOL

"Sweet! We have a date", she said...but Bug had words of her own...

BUG: The way you took this, Mommy, you look like one of those heads. You need to take a better picture.

ME: What?

BUG: You know...one of those thingys that goes on your desk or car and the head shakes...[demonstration]

ME: A bobblehead?

BUG: I don't know. Those big heads..with little legs.

ME: Great.

Bug went with me to meet THE MAN. We arrived at my friend's shop at one of the local malls and she whisked me away with Bug in tow. I walked into the business and a man immediately looked up from his computer as CADILLAC strolled over to his direction and introduced us.

THE MAN was nice looking, olive skin...nice hair...tall, very, very fit. He had kind eyes. We chatted some and he gave me his card and asked me to contact him after the landscaping season.... for the job. Damn. Did I have to really get another job to meet a man?

Bug and I went to my friend's shop and on the way...

CADILLAC: Oh...he likes you.

ME: He was polite.

CADILLAC: Yeah. But I've never seen his eyes light up like that. He likes you. I wouldn't be surprised if he asks you out.

ME: Now that will be ruined if he's my boss, you know. Dipping the pen in the company ink is a no-no.

CADILLAC: OMG. Just relax. He way lit up. I know him. He has never done that.

Bug and I went on our merry way to run some errands and escape the crazy matchmaking. On the way to Wal-Mart..I questioned my most wisest daughter.

ME: What did you think?

BUG: I don't know. He was nice.

ME: Yeah, he was. Did you think he was good looking?

BUG: Mom, I really don't know. I don't dig old guys.

ME:*blink*blink*

BUG: What?

ME: He's 42. And when did you ever talk like that?

BUG: I don't know. Do you think Downtown is good looking?

ME: Why? Do you like Downtown?

BUG: I don't know. Yeah. He's cute.

ME: Yeah. He's hot.

BUG:[giggle] How old is he?

ME: 37.

BUG: Why don't you be with him, Mom?

ME: It's complicated.

BUG: *blink*blink*

ME: What?

BUG: Drama.

ME: Yeah.

BUG: I guess this guy is OK. Maybe he's nice.

ME: It's a start. [big sigh]

BUG: I need to pick your outfit next time. I like your boots.

ME: *blink*blink*

Clone Me!

2011-10-22T12:22:00.000-07:00

From fire pits to fireballs...I worked from 0400 to 0030. How many hours is that? Oy. Clone me.

We started the day landscaping...the boys were building a dog kennel...I was self-absorbed and doing lonely work by myself..therapy...and building this for a customer...

Inside the pit is a wagon train carving. Pics on that later...Yes, I AM A GIRL!

After the job site on the ranch...I mosied to the station to don my blue suit for this....yes...I got paid a lot of money to be a copper here....and Reba and Band Perry were awesome! I can't tell you ENOUGH TIMES how great the concert was....superfantabulous!

You know...it wasn't Eminem...but Reba rocks, and she has an amazing voice.

Believe it or not, I am well rounded all genres.

During the concert, The TUMINATOR and I kept commenting on where else on Earth could we live in a great place where 10,000 plus people gathered for a concert...sold out...and only FOUR cops guarded the entire shindig. We were grateful for the moment. We didn't even have

one run in with any out of control drunks....except...well...for one...crazy, wild one who was just like

Football

2011-10-19T05:40:00.000-07:00

The arson brought loads of evidence that had to be moved from the scene to evidence storage. My Barbie Mobile was down at the shop. The only other option was the CSO truck. I called up the parking attendant who is a wonderful hard working man at the age of 63 or something.

ME: Hi, Fargo here. Can I borrow the truck to take evidence to the storage building?

FRANK: Oh, lovely lady, I am busy doing VIN inspections in the Valley and these people have been waiting for quite some time. It will be at least an hour.

ME: *blink*blink* VIN Inspections? Frank. This is an arson.

FRANK: I'm really sorry. I will help you as soon as I can. It will be awhile.

ME: Frank. I can't wait an hour.

FRANK: I'm really sorry, lovely lady. [hangs up]

SERIOUSLY?

So...I said..."fuck it" and found a way to take the burned mattress to the evidence storage myself...

Of course the ride to the evidence storage goes right past the Lieutenant's office window. Sergeant Gruffy called me up...

SARG G: Yep. Got a call already from the lieutenant asking what the fuck just drove past his window.

ME: Yep. That's Fargo improvising. Did you tell him that?

SARG G: Nope. Wasn't a good time. He said..." Do you know how many citizens took a picture of that and put it on YouTube. What the fuck?"

ME: [laughing]Oh...no worries.. I got pics for ya..

SARG G: You know what Officer WOJO said who is over 60?

ME: What?

SARG G: Looks like Fargo is ready for the night shift.

ME: HA! That's funny for an old guy.

What can I say? It's what happens when you have to punt. I never did get football anyway.

Ring of Fire

2011-10-19T05:23:00.000-07:00

I was on my way to the gym when a structure fire aired at our Youth Crisis Center with occupants inside a locked facility. Turning around and driving Mach 700 ( yes there is such a thing in a Dodge Charger), I arrived on scene in short order.

Officer Billboard approached me, stating he had distinguished the blaze that had been going up the wall and the mattress was dripping on the floor. He said the fire department took over.

OFFICER BILLBOARD: I arrived and asked the staff if anyone was inside the building. They were standing outside with the kids. You know what they said? [giggle giggle]

ME: No. What?

OFFICER BILLBOARD: No one is inside, sir, except the suspect and she is in the lockdown room, safe and sound. I said to them, inside the building that's on fire? And they said, Yes. Is that fucking great or what?

ME: [laughing] What the hell? OMG. Is she still there?

OFFICER BILLBOARD: Yep.

So...Officer Billboard and myself went inside the smoking building and handcuffed the arsonist who actually was already in trouble and a ward of the state. I took her to my car, read her Miranda and she waived, agreeing to speak to me. She confessed. She said she and another girl conspired to burn the place down to escape. She bought a lighter off another girl for twenty bucks. Brilliant. After the interviews, I took her to jail to book her in for 1st degree arson, conspiracy, and felony property damage.

FIRE BUG GIRL: So...where are you taking me?

ME: Juvenile detention center.

FIRE BUG GIRL: Oh. I'm not going home?

ME: Uh. NO. You are a ward of the state and now a felon, little missy.

FIRE BUG GIRL: When will I get out?

ME: When you're 21.

FIRE BUG GIRL: *blink*blink*

ME: Yeah. Girls' School for you until 21. Guaranteed. And you are 15 now? What a shame. And just about to get a driver's license. I don't think they give those out at the girls' school.

FIRE BUG GIRL: Really?

ME: Yep. I know the system. And go ahead and try to burn down juvy jail. It's made out of cement.

FIRE BUG GIRL: *blink*blink*

ME: Any other questions?

FIRE BUG GIRL: I'm going to have a manic moment. I need my meds.

ME: No meds. I can't give out meds. You have some choices. Go ahead and have a "manic" moment. Any drama in the back of my car and I will take you to the ER, strap to a rubber mattress for 4 hours while they evaluate you for the psych ward....then when they OK you for the psych ward...you can stay there for weeks. Or...you can control yourself. You choose. I accommodate both.

FIRE BUG GIRL: *blink*blink*

ME: Yep. I thought so. Not going to manipulate me, sister.

Inside The G-Ride...Views from the Popo

2011-10-19T05:09:00.000-07:00

I escaped from the ghetto to the upper class historical district for just a sneak peak at the fall colors..

It was a nice fall day...inside the Charger. I drove fast... which put a smile on my face.

Mountain High

2011-10-17T20:52:00.000-07:00

I snuck out for a day...played hookie....

I went this way...

Horse sweat and I mixed well this time...NO CRASHES..YIPPEE... and the beautiful fall day was amazing in the woods and on the trail...

10 hours of sleep...here...

Great friends, great food.

Built in the 30s..the lodge is amazing and it brought me back to simple things...even for just a day.

The ride down was beautiful but I was sad to leave so soon.

Thanks Bill, Juanita, and GunDiva!

Small Details

2011-10-17T06:20:00.000-07:00

I am a guest at one of the most honorable sites.....come check out me out at Slam Dunks.

Rollin' The Grass

2011-10-13T21:09:00.000-07:00

Sod. 6 tons of it today. While working...THE ROOK called me. He already misses me and had questions. He so needs his Momma...Fargo. Nice boy. Raised right.

Anygreengrassupmyass....I started out the day in Princess garb.....

Psych! This was days ago. And for some reason the necklace is crooked. Super stylish!

Today...I actually looked like a bag of top soil by the end of the day...with grass in all the wrong cracks and places.

I need a hot tub....a glass of wine...bubbles...a massage...therapy....SOMETHING...that should resemble the spa.

We wrestled a snake...he got away.. yes, I know it was a boy...I saw the snake penis...

next time...it gets the shovel.

Damn rattlesnakes are supposed to go hibernate and have anal sex with each other. Have you ever tried to visualize snake sex? Just wondering. Sometimes I wonder about strange things like that.

I almost tipped the tractor over moving boulders into place on a muddy slope. The concrete guys told Lori I was brave and had no fear. I thought they were laughing at me. I've never understood Spanish much. Poco.

I can only speak broken Spanish and Spanish cop sign language any more.

Note to self...go back for a Spanish refresher course.

Glennifer and I raced for the sod roller, he gave me a football maneuver...I gave him one back...and

wouldn't you know it...I used leverage, flipped him with my police ninja skills and the big man fell down boom,

I stole the sod roller and ran down the lawn.

It was like cop Olympic Gladiator war games or something.

Only the girl won and he was embarrassed.

Who says cops don't know how to have fun?

We could roll grass faster and better than anyone...

and it's legal grass. Put that in your pipe and smoke it!

Visualize It

2011-10-13T06:48:00.000-07:00

Homeless people are some of the most interesting, dangerous, and crazy people we encounter. We have had several homicides, assaults, robberies, and rapes involving them as suspects. Desperate times equals desperate measures. Setting aside the violent crime, the most common criminal problem with them is their intoxication level and squatting.

Rounding the corner on routine patrol, something red caught my eye. I glanced over to see a backpack, sleeping bag, garbage, and a man. It was a business that had gone under so the building was empty and abandoned. I turned into the lot and called out on the radio. As I approached him, I could tell he got up on the wrong side of the bed...uh...sidewalk...or stoop.

He had bottles all around him, trash, and clothes. It was obvious he made himself at home.

ME: Good morning.

HOBO JOHN: Yep. What do you want?

ME: Really? It would be nice if you weren't drunk, stayed at the Mission, and didn't litter up my city with your bottles and trash. What's with the brown bottles?

HOBO JOHN: Vanilla extract.

ME: Ah. Better than getting drunk on Listerine.

HOBO JOHN: Listen, lady. I'm sobering up. I'm moving on. See that ridge on the horizon? That's where I'll be tonight.

ME: I don't care where you'll be tonight. You're here now. Can I see some ID?

HOBO JOHN: Yep. [hands me his ID] I have a warrant out of Indiana.

ME: For what?

HOBO JOHN: Public Intoxication.

ME: I'm so surprised.

HOBO JOHN: You don't have to be a smart ass, lady.

ME: Yes, I do. I received therapy for it, but it didn't work. My medication wore off two hours ago. Deal with it.

HOBO JOHN: All you cops are the same. I'm not bothering anyone. I'm going to college to get my master's degree.

ME: Oh, yeah?

HOBO JOHN: Yeah.

ME: What are you getting your degree in?

HOBO JOHN: Psychology, addiction.

ME: Yep. Good field for you. So when do your classes start?

HOBO JOHN: Well. I'm taking classes by correspondence.

ME: Umm. Yeah. How's that working out for you since you are such a traveler?

HOBO JOHN: Good. Good. You don't believe me, do you?

ME: Not all. Thanks for asking.

HOBO JOHN: I am getting my degree, lady! It's in my head. The more I think about it, the closer to finishing my degree I get. Picturing it, visualize. Then it becomes reality.

ME: *blink*blink*

HOBO JOHN: It's true.

ME: Yeah. I received my college degrees by osmosis. Mostly from passing out on my books from an all night drunk.

HOBO JOHN: Yeah. It happens. I still think you are being sarcastic. You gonna take me to jail?

ME: You know, it's in my head. The more I think about it, the closer I get to picturing you in jail. Visualization sometimes becomes reality.

The Birds and Bugs

2011-10-11T23:43:00.000-07:00

It was a crazy night. After doing chores, I came into the house to settle down and take a rest. No sooner had I plopped on the couch, when I heard a disturbing noise. Oh...I had heard it before.

I ran into the bathroom to find my darling Princess In Training taking a shower, singing at the top of her lungs, throwing shampoo all over the shower...AND...I looked right.

My darling Princess in Training had left the bathroom sink on with the plug in and it was overflowing into the vanity drawers, on the floor, into the walls...basically it was like an alien amoeba invasion...only worse. Cuz it was real.

I really thought to myself...FUCK ME IN THE ASS. I didn't say it, of course...not with Bug there. I do have my limits.

The thoughts that went through my head....not another thing...not again.

First...it had been a bad few days. Another flat tire, the fridge went out, the washer broke-got repaired-still doesn't work, I wrecked the Gold Beast-like way bad-thousands of dollars-damn blue hair drivers, I bent up my friend's flat bed trailer, the horse got stuck in the fence, family issues, employee issues, I flew the coop from Downtown-and I'm still running-just got off the phone with another draining fight which at least ended amicable-and at least I told him how I felt...again-I'm still mad-and HE told me to walk away this time-damn boy didn't even realize I did that already and told him that days ago-bonehead men-where are all the good ones?, got chewed out at work, doctor's appointments, bad weather to delay the landscaping job, and now another house disaster. Oy.

When I prayed to God to please give me a break, I didn't mean for Him to give me enough to break me. I guess I didn't realize God had a problem with semantics. At least out of everything known to me, I was expecting God to get that.

Hey, God...it's me, Fargo...

Anyflood, Bug was devastated she had been spacey. I was devastated because it was the last straw to the cluster pile of disasters. After several soaked towels and mopping and throwing buckets outside...I sat on the toilet. Not to do my business...but to rest on my throne. Yes...MINE, MINE, MINE. Dammit.

Bug was standing nearby apologizing and brushing her hair.

I glanced over near the sink and something caught my eye. It was a bunch of what looked like chicken and pheasant feathers piled up.

ME: What the hell is this dead chicken doing on my sink?

BUG: [instant pouty mad] MOM! That is no dead chicken!

ME: The hell it isn't. This looks like part of a pheasant here, too. If your mom knows anything...it's tail. [holds up the clump]

BUG: YOU are impossible. Why do you insult me?

ME: What are you talking about? All I want to know is where the rest of these birds are...in the shower?

BUG: MOM! That is a barrette that I made with my friends. It's the style.

ME: To have a dead chicken on your head? That went out in the 80s.

BUG: MOM!

ME: I'm sorry, honey. I should appreciate art a little more. Especially since I am an artist and you are one, too. It's very colorful. I just didn't realize the style. [deflect, cover, backtrack...mommy fail]

BUG: Yeah, right. You hate it.

ME: Nope.

BUG: Well, you don't really like it.

ME: Honey, it's great. I just thought I was going to have to get my shotgun out and kill the poor bald chicken running around.

BUG: MOM! They fell off. I would never pluck a chicken. Gross.

ME: Well...that's something.

BUG: *blink*blink*

ME: Your friends didn't teach you to tie roach clips into those like the 80s, did they?

BUG: Gross, Mom. I wouldn't put bugs in my hair.

ME: Thank you, baby Jesus.

Girls Have....Boys Have...

2011-10-11T04:10:00.000-07:00

ME: Why do you always laugh when I say penis or vagina? It's like you are 12.

THE ROOK: [giggle] Cuz it's funny.

ME: Penis. Penis. Penis. Vagina. Vagina. Vagina.

THE ROOK: [giggle]

ME: Do I have to explain the birds and bees to you? You are probably a virgin.

THE ROOK: [giggle, giggle] NO.

ME: Ugh. How are you going to hold a straight face when a four year old tells you her neighbor put his weiner in her Giny and wiggled it around and it felt yucky.

THE ROOK: [laughing]

ME: I'm serious!

THE ROOK: [laughing] It's funny when you say it. You're so serious.

ME: I am serious! Quit laughing![giggle]

THE ROOK: See!

ME: *blink*blink*

Girls and Boys

2011-10-10T21:08:00.000-07:00

Briefing started out superb. Many of us were announced and cursed from the highest tree as ignoring a computer training questionnaire and the Chief was mandating we got it done. Pronto. I, of course, was one of those. After the first stern chewing out, I was told I had missed the range shoot because of a call I was on. First thing out of the shoot (no pun intended) THE ROOK and I had to qualify...40 degrees...shoot your shotgun and handgun...in plain clothes...slacks and a nice shirt. Well...you would guess the Princess in me was worried about getting dirty and didn't bring range clothes. In Quasi-Solo...our FTOs are required to wear business attire and detective garb....aka- nice duds and a gun.

ME: Sarg, do we have to get down on our knees?

SARG: *blink*blink*

ME: What? I didn't bring any change of clothes.

TROOPS: [guffaw, spit donuts and coffee]

ROOKIES: [snicker, snicker...are we supposed to laugh?]

ME: [shake my head]

OFFICER SHREK: No. No prone positions. Just standing shots. Nice question.

ME: What the hell is wrong with you people? I was talking about getting my knees dirty. Nice clothes and all.

TROOPS: [snicker, snicker]

SARG: That's not helping.

ME: It was a legit question.

THE ROOK and I left the station to start our day off with a power shake at the fitness center we are both members of and we downed it knowing we had no time to dilly dally and enjoy it. The day started and ended with stupid calls.

THE ROOK: Mam, I'm sorry I laughed at your question.

ME: Why? It was funny. I definitely worded that wrong. Damn boys.

THE ROOK: Yeah. [giggle]

The first call came out from a frantic female caller. The neighbors were throwing things, a female was screaming, and somewhere in the middle...a gun came into play. The suspect male was wanted for warrants and a known gang member who used drugs. An odd combination. Oy. When we arrived, he was at his vehicle packing it up with his belongings.

After getting his story about the family fight, Officer Uptight asked him if he could search his vehicle. He consented and was very cooperative with officers. While the search went on, he began to rant to me about how his girlfriend told him she had gotten drunk and spent the night with another man. Soon, I looked over my shoulder to see Officer Uptight and Officer Guncrazy putting a large bong on top of the car. I smiled.
JIGGY JAKE: What are you smiling at? [Turned around] DAMMIT! [big smile]

ME: DAMMIT! I hate it when the cops find my dope. Foiled again.

JIGGY JAKE: [giggle]Yep. That's mine.

ME: Yeah. Did you know you have warrants, too?

JIGGY JAKE: Yeah.

ME: DAMMIT!

JIGGY JAKE: [giggle]DAMMIT! I just wanted to leave and pack my shit and get out of here. I told her the wedding was off. Do another guy. Fuck you.

ME: Yeah.

JIGGY JAKE: This is my first dope charge.

ME: Yeah. First time you got caught.

JIGGY JAKE: Yeah.

ME: DAMMIT!

JIGGY JAKE: [giggle] Well, fuck it. At least I'm out of here.

ME: Yeah. Me, too.

JIGGY JAKE: You're funny.

ME: So they say.Girls are trouble anyway.

JIGGY JAKE: Not all of them. Just this one.

ME: No, lots of them.

JIGGY JAKE: No. They are awesome.

ME: Do you smoke crack? I thought you just did marijuana.

JIGGY JAKE: I do.

ME: Smoke crack?

JIGGY JAKE: No! Just marijuana.

ME: Dude, you just need to learn to walk away.

JIGGY JAKE: I'm in handcuffs!

ME: Not from the PoPo, idiot...girls!

OFFICER HILL STREET BLUES: Nice remote in the new flat screen, dude.

JIGGY JAKE: Like that? Yeah. Well, she broke my shit, so I threw the remote into her TV that has my name on it that I gave to her. Fuck it. Probably have to pay for that, too. It was worth it. She is a witch.

ME: Tiz the season.

JIGGY JAKE: Yeah, that ain't no shit, lady.

ME: I thought you liked girls.

JIGGY JAKE: I do. Just not this one.

Jiggy Jake was escorted to jail and charged with dope and warrants. No physical confrontation occurred at the house. No pets were harmed or sacrificed in this incident.

At the station, while a new shift was coming into service...I was leaning on the coffee pot counter, cooking my soup in the microwave...
OFFICER RADIOSPYVOICE: You have a yellow flower thingy on your butt..not that I'm lookin'.

ME: What? [frantically swatting] Is it gone?

OFFICER RADIOSPYVOICE: I aint' lookin'.

ME: Come on! We are all boys here.

TROOPS: No we're not.

ME: Come on! This is crap, you boneheads! Tell me if it's gone![bend over, pointing to butt]You can't tell me I have something on my butt, then not tell me if I got it off of there.

TROOPS/OFFICER RADIOSPYVOICE: Fine! It's gone!

ME: I swear.

I decided on this date...boys are too much work...and silly. I need my girlfriends.

Absence Minded

2011-10-09T22:11:00.000-07:00

You may have noticed I was missing in action for a few days. "Training." Yes, cops do that. Normal posting will resume tomorrow. In the meantime, here is a pic from our training...

So....we snuck out...a little....and maybe we had our suits on underneath our shorts. Ok...so partially...I had girly board shorts underneath and a suit on top. Cops can't cheat all the way...

Princess Moments

2011-10-09T21:56:00.000-07:00

This last week, The ROOK and I were plagued with boring calls and drunks. For some reason, in plain clothes, the citizens found me to be the subject of chatter. In the car, The ROOK found opportunity to make fun of me.

THE ROOK: [ big smile] Pretty, pretty, Princess!

ME: Shut it.

THE ROOK: Well, they think you are.

ME: Sometimes you need to hush, rookie.

THE ROOK: [big smile] You just need to embrace it.

ME: [weak smile] Perhaps.

We took many more calls where he was able to clatter "PRETTY, PRETTY PRINCESS" in the g-ride. My reputation is SOOOOoooo going down the toilet. I was looking forward to donning the blue suit again and wearing the high and tight updo. I'd rather be known as the "ghetto bitch cop" than the "PRETY, PRETTY PRINCESS."

In another city last week...off duty...I found myself in the...ghetto. You guessed it. This time by accident. However, I made my trip useful.

Cruising by the hookers and drug dealers, I did find something wasn't like the other. I was the only white person in a black neighborhood. I was also the only non felon. This is where my princess training really came into play. Smile and wave, smile and wave. Drive forward. Who says that shit don't work?

Maybe I do need an identity change.

Rounding the end of the neighborhood, the residential area became commercial. A sigh of relief came over me as I saw a mall ahead and a big sign...BEST BUY. I had purchased a gift for a friend that was in need of exchange. He had a Nook. I bought him a leather cover for a gift. However, I had purchased one for the black and white version and not the color. Exchange opportunity became obvious and I just so happened to have the cover in my car.

As I entered the store, I made my way to the customer service counter where I was waited on by a very nice young man. He snickered to me about being lost and we laughed about it. He was happy to exchange the cover for another one and gave me the utmost customer care.

We walked over to the area where the Nook covers were displayed. He picked one out and I told him it was perfect. He then asked me if I wanted another color... like bright green or a light cream.

ME: Nope. [ nice smile]The one you picked is perfect. I like it. It's for a man. Black is a manly color, right?

MALE CLERK: [weak smile, limp wrist, about turn to the register]

Yep. He was black AND gay. I had just inadvertantly hit both notes without realizing it.

Just in case you were wondering...the PRETTY, PRETTY PRINCESS does not like the taste leather. Pooey. Boy, did I feel like a heel.

Princess Rules

2011-10-01T22:24:00.000-07:00

BUG: Are you getting ready for work? Are you training again in that one thing you do?

ME: Uh. Yes. It's THE ROOK's first day of his last two weeks.

BUG: Mom. Too many numbers. First, last, two...which is it?

ME: All of them.

BUG: Nevermind. Uh, Mom. Are you dressing as a princess?

ME: Well, of course.

BUG: Bet you will find your prince at work.

ME: Not likely, honey. I take those to jail.

BUG: Mom! Not funny.. I was talking about at work..the boys.

ME: Something for you to learn...never dip the pen in the company ink.

BUG: *blink*blink* How are you supposed to draw then, Mom?

FAIR TRADE

2011-09-28T06:40:00.000-07:00

One thing in my job that has never been "old hat" is negotiating hostages. It is something that always keeps me on edge, the adrenaline runs high, and I love it. Sick, I know. I don't love the situations, I just love the cop adrenaline high. Although sometimes, the liability chokes me and the pressure is so great that I pray the outcome is good.

We had such a call.

The night started out steady, then died to complete silence.

THE ROOK: What's your favorite color?

ME: Green

THE ROOK: What's mine? Guess.

ME: Red

THE ROOK: Yep. What's your favorite movie of all times?

ME: Are we on a date?

THE ROOK [laughing] I'm trying to keep from falling asleep.

Before long, I received a call that I was needed in another county to respond with SWAT to a hostage situation where a barricaded gunman had shot at police and took his children hostage. Six total hostages were reported which included an uncle, a teenager, and infant and toddler aged children. One cop was trapped in a field with only concealment, avoiding gunfire and two more were trapped near their patrol cars with guns on the house, but behind cover, unable to retreat.

I was it.

We couldn't get any other negotiators or team members to answer their phone. The other agency was asking for our assistance.

I had to leave THE ROOK behind, although he was extremely disappointed he couldn't get the training. I drove several miles at Mach 70 with SWAT and myself and the GO team arrived first. Shots were fired. We were too close and retreated to a safer location. The armored peacekeepers were behind us. The GO team pulled the cop out of the field. The two out front remained until the armored tanks could rescue them and pull them out of the line of fire.

Negotiations went badly. The barricaded gunman was the most difficult subject I had negotiated. He shot at one of the peacekeepers while I was on the phone with him, using his children as his shield. Our only hope was to wear him down or pray he would drink himself to sleep. We shut off his cell phones, the electricity, the gas, and evacuated the neighborhood...not in that order. At one point we had to use the robot to get a phone to him so we had control of his communications.

Even though the pressure was high, we find humor in these situations. We have to..to keep from realizing the risks we take. Things always go wrong, or not as planned. The bad guy always throws a wrench.

The agency had been successful in negotiating cigarettes for several firearms. It didn't matter. The man was still heavily armed. But it was a success. I worked my negotiator mojo as well. Wear him down. Stall. Keep the hostages safe. Negotiate for their release.

BIG MIKE: I want some Marlboro Reds.

ME: Ok. I understand you want some Marlboro Reds. I can do that. Would you be willing to show me some good faith by letting your infant go and I'll get you your cigarettes?

BIG MIKE: What the fuck, lady? Are you kidding me? Trade my kid for cigarettes? That's not a fair trade! I already traded cigarettes for some guns! Fuck! Now my kid? You guys keep upping the anty.

ME: Come on, Big Mike. Let the baby go. I know you don't want to hurt anyone. We can work this out. I know you are a good guy. Things just got a little emotional today. No one has gotten hurt. We can talk about this. Will you let everyone go and come out and talk to us?

BIG MIKE: Fucking women! Always wanting the babies. I'll tell you what. I'll give you something for the cigarettes. A big FUCK YOU!

It went well. The whole night. NOT.

Come on. He was being unreasonable. I thought it was a good trade. LOL.

Anystress, BIG MIKE passed out hours later. SWAT rushed the house and captured him, rescuing the children. No one was injured. The ordeal lasted 12 hours from start to finish.

The SWAT guys came up to the negotiators Tahoe command and teased me about being such an unreasonable bitch. I can't help it. I'm a woman.

Bug Blurbs

2011-09-28T06:12:00.000-07:00

My babysitter called me on my way to work. Wait...I don't think I ever left work. Anyway..it was a phone call.

She told me substantially the following story about Bug at the dinner table last night.

BUG: My mommy forgot to drop me off some clean underwear.

KARI: That's Ok. You can go COMMANDO and I will wash your undies.

BUG: OK.

KARI: It's OK for one day.

BUG: I know. My mommy says it's good to air out the vagina and keep it clean.

BART: [spits food and chokes] *blink*blink*

KARI: [laughing]

I about wrecked my car.

Later, after briefing, I called my Bug to tell her hello and tell her I forgot to stop by with the clean undies again. This was not surprising, after I had gotten ready for work and put my deorderant on the OUTSIDE of my shirt. No sleep for three days. Beat me.

ME: Hi, Bug! I love you!

BUG: Hi, mommy! You forgot my underwear.

ME: Yes, honey. I'm sorry.

BUG: It's OK. Did you remember them this time? Kari says we can leave a change of clothes here for me.

ME: No. I forgot. Kari is going to wash yours. We can bring a bag to keep there.

BUG: Ok. Guess I'll go Commando again. I'm really getting tired of playing Army.

ME: *blink*blink*

Oy.

Master Blaster

2011-09-27T16:20:00.000-07:00

No...this isn't a post about masturbation...or anything close. Sickos. It's a title about a big black guy with lots of guns...aimed at the Popo...and firing upon us.

Day Two...no sleep.

Day One...Cops get shot at by bad guy. Fargo negotiating barricaded gunman with 6 hostages...5 of them small children.

Day Two....Bad guy captured. Hostages unharmed. Police uninjured.

Day Three...About to start a night shift tonight...still running on empty.

Yep. My function right now makes about as much sense as the order of these days blending into one.

What day is it again?

Several funny posts to follow...yes...dangerous situtations can find humor...possible they will be published on Day Four...or the end of Day Three. Not going to guarantee they will make any sense.

Now where did I put my gun?

Don't worry peeps...I'm still lurking your neighborhoods...keeping the bad guy away. I just might have THE ROOK driving....Miss Daisy. She was cranky, right, Bill?

Cheerleader Retires

2011-09-26T08:37:00.000-07:00

I am alive! Thanks for all the emails concerning my short disappearance. In that time, crime continued to run rampant. However, it wasn't blog worthy or even interesting. Downtown suffered a set back with getting pneumonia and ordered to bed rest for three weeks. I tried to pick up his slack and mine. To no avail. He is a complex creature I will never understand...this I am sure.

Not only did I wear myself out physically, but more so mentally with all the drama and emotional issues I was bringing upon myself to help him. I try too hard, I guess.

Top that off with the normal drama I deal with at work and on the home front.

It came to a point today that I realized I have to put aside a part of me that is difficult to stick in the closet. It would be the part of me that tries to make everything "OK" for others...always helping, bringing food when people are sick, listening to their problems, checking in with them, making things comfortable for them, making them laugh, encouraging them when they are down...being the ROCK of a relationship. I was raised to treat people like gold and to be kind. Perhaps overboard to an extent. Always extending myself to others if they needed someone to be there for them. I could do it all day for anyone without qualms unless the other end doesn't notice or takes advantage to the point nothing feels reciprocated. When do we say...enough is enough? Why do we continue to give but not to receive?

And like a true blond...I let myself get taken advantage of for a very long time before I say enough is enough. I always have that gambler's attitude...that tomorrow...will come and it will be better. Sometimes "tomorrow" never comes. And sometimes people just never "get it." They are too self-absorbed. I, on the other hand, am too subservient. A word I actually don't care for, but resemble. Beat me.

Letting go is hard for anyone to come to grips with unless it is a hateful ending to a friendship. Actually...it's called "defriending" on Facebook, or hitting the "delete" button in your contacts. It's a great concept, but often more difficult to swallow in real life. However, hitting that "delete" button of real life...I can say brings a release of sadness and relief all at the same time.

I can't do it anymore. For now. Maybe forever.

Some people just don't know what they have in front of them until it flies away.

You know what? I never EVER was a cheerleader. I thought they were stupid. Bitches.

Nerve Grater

2011-09-25T20:40:00.000-07:00

As I get older, I find my patience wears thinner. Is that good English? Sounded a little redneck. Anycrazy...people have started to grate on my nerves. Perhaps it's because I have only dealt with stupid. At least...lately. However, when people drive you insane to the point you pipe up...pick your prey. Wisely. I usually pick the big hairy ones.

Saturday night and early this morning was filled with drunks. Not only was every deputy on a DUI, but us city cops were loaded with our plethera of drunks.

Most of the night, THE ROOK and I were on special operations... trying to find a state prison escapee and tracking a gang involved in stolen guns and dope. THE ROOK got his fair share of undercover operations. We were successful in conducting a felony stop with the ring leader with the stolen gun case. The prison escapee...not so much.

Late into the night or early in the morning...it all blends...we had a call for assistance from Officer Old timer who ran into some belligerent drunks outside our favorite biker bar. THE ROOK and I assisted. Reaching our destination, I jumped out while THE ROOK was driving to intercept the large biker that was meandering toward a Jeep in the alley behind the bar. Sure he was going to drive away and be a lethal weapon on the roadway, I made contact.

He was none too happy to see the PoPo...even my shining little face.

ME: Evening. You weren't planning on driving tonight, were you?

BIG RAY: Nope.

ME: Where are you headed?

BIG RAY: Up the road.

ME: So..what happened inside the bar? The ruckus?

BIG RAY: I don't give a shit. Their problem.

ME: Seems it involves you.

BIG RAY: Not talkin'.

ME: How much have you had to drink tonight?

BIG RAY: Enough.

ME: You got a ride home?

BIG RAY: [silence]

ME: You can talk to me or not. Don't really care. You don't have a ride, I'll give you one...to the big Biker Bed and Breakfast on the hill. Your choice.

BIG RAY: Yeah. You fucking cops. It's never our choice. Fuck you. [He stumbled into the building and tried to walk away.] I have a ride.

THE ROOK: Hey, you can't walk around the city or down the sidewalk drunk. City ordinance. She asked you if you had a ride home.

BIG RAY:[Came back to us and spit near our shoes]Alright. I will wait here.

ME: Quit spitting.

BIG RAY: [smirk] Make me. Fuck that. Stupid cop.

ME: It's against the law, too...and gross. So...got money for a cab? We're trying to work with you, but our patience is running thin.

BIG RAY: Not paying for a cab. I don't have to. Came to the bar to get drunk. Going home. That's the way it is. Cops suck. Why don't you go find some real crime?

ME: We did that already. Now we are bored. That's why you are entertaining us.

BIG RAY: [smirk and spit again near my boot] There's another violation, lady. Maybe I'll hit your boot. What do you think of that? Huh? What do you think?

ME: Actually, I think you are a fucking dickhead.

THE ROOK: *blink*blink*

YEP. I SAID IT. IT JUST CAME OUT AND THAT'S THE WAY IT IS. DEAL WITH IT.

So...we ended up taking Big Ray to jail without a struggle. He didn't care. He did, however, try to intimidate me all the way up the hill and inside the detention center. It was packed. Full house in the book in area.

BIG RAY: Honey. [ blew me kisses] I'm gonna get you. You wait.

ME: Yep. Bring it, sister. Big man threatening a girl. You must be the pussy of the group.

BIG RAY: You'll see.

THE ROOK: [hits me in the arm]

ME: What?

We met up with Officer Fitness inside the deputies book in office after they put Big Ray in his cell. The cells have one small window for them to look out and us to look in.

I had my back to Big Ray, but I knew what he was doing. He was 6-3, 275, solid muscles, black hair, scruffy face, tats all over. He had black eyes that appeared hollow and evil. We had to use two sets of cuffs which barely went around his wrists.

OFFICER FITNESS: He's creeping me out.

ME: Big Ray?

OFFICER FITNESS: Yes. The way he is staring at you. It's creepy. Like he wants to kill you.

ME: Probably does. Him don't like me much.

OFFICER FITNESS: I'm serious. I don't get creeped out. That is sinister.

THE ROOK: 5-foot nothin'. 100 pounds nothin'. She thinks she is tall and bulletproof. Why did you call him a dickhead?

OFFICER FITNESS: You called him a dickhead?

ME: Yep.

OFFICER FITNESS: Why did you do that?

ME: I cannot tell a lie.

THE ROOK: *blink*blink*

We walked out of the book in area toward the sally port. As I left, I turned to Big Ray who was still standing at his window, smirking at me.

ME: [blew him kisses] Love you. Miss you.

THE ROOK: You are going to get your ass kicked one day from him. He hates you.

ME: Nah. He won't intimidate me. Dickheads. They are all the same. Wear their penis on their head.

THE ROOK: *blink*blink*

ME: It makes sense to a girl.

Bug A Bang, Bug A Boom

2011-09-24T13:12:00.000-07:00

I have found there is no greater privilege than to be a mother to a child. She has taught me more than I have her...

Two things I have found a child needs..one is roots to grow...and the other is wings...

...when they are 40...and released from the closet and told boys are evil.

I am in so much trouble...

The Narc Arc

2011-09-23T14:28:00.000-07:00

I reported to my FTO sergeant that I was having problems staying awake as the passenger while training. When I drive, I am fine. When I ride...it's like rocking a baby to sleep. Especially...if we have a lull in crime. SQUIRREL and THE ROOK have been good about it and try to help me stay awake. Despite business checks, training exercises, and traffic stops...there are seconds in between where I just collapse. I even told Sarg I might have narcolepsy. Self diagnosed.

THE ROOK: You were funny. You can sleep and still carry on a conversation.

ME: Awesome. I am so proud of myself.

THE ROOK: When I was typing my report, I asked you if you spoke to that woman on the last call. You said, "Yeah. I spoke to the woman at the counter. I got her statement."

ME: Nice.

THE ROOK: Except we never were at a counter. We were outside in the yard.

ME: Thank God.

THE ROOK: What?

ME: I didn't remember being at a counter and if I told you I talked to a woman at the counter, I didn't remember a thing. I was starting to get very concerned about my sleep problem. Like I was sleeping while out there with citizens. Yikes.

THE ROOK: [giggling] You were sleeping and dreaming. In the Tahoe. And talking. Funny.

ME: *blink*blink*

THE ROOK: It's OK. I got your back.

ME: Yeah. But I don't have yours. I am getting pissed. I think it's the vehicle. The Narc Arc.

THE ROOK: What?

ME: Narcolepsy vehicle. The Narc Arc.

THE ROOK: *blink*blink*

*********************************

THE ROOK: [hits me] Hey. We have a prowler call.

ME: Ok.

THE ROOK: I tried waking you up by going to 60 mph and then braking. You didn't even wake up.

ME: Super. Beat me.

THE ROOK: I tried that too.

ME: No, I meant this is killing me. I hate feeling like this. I hate falling asleep. It's to the point I need to drive and that isn't going to do you any good for training. Sleep or no sleep at home. It doesn't make a difference. It's the passenger in the car thing. And boredom. We have had eery quite nights.

THE ROOK: It's OK. I just think I'm Morgan Freeman driving Miss Daisy.

ME: You're white.

THE ROOK: Yeah. It's pretend.

ME: Nice.

*******************************************

THE ROOK: You know what?

ME: What?

THE ROOK: I was watching you sleep while I wrote my report. You were reading that training manual and you fell asleep.

ME: Ugh. I am getting so mad at myself.

THE ROOK: You are so cute when you sleep.

ME: *head*dashboard*

******************************************

THE ROOK: Look at you! Rockin' the ponytail today. I have never seen you with a pony tail. Only the high and tight up do.

ME: Dude, are you the fashion police?

THE ROOK: [Big cheesy smile] Nope. Just wondering if that will help you stay awake.

ME: *blink *blink* You are beating me at my own game. Now I know I am losing my powers.

THE ROOK: What powers?

ME: The force. It's not with me anymore.

THE ROOK: What?

ME: Oh, sorry. Forgot that show was before your time.

THE ROOK: Are we talking Harry Potter?

ME: *blink*blink*

The Boogie Man Is My Friend...

Buggin' Out

I Hanta You Down

STRIPPING THE PIGSKIN

Question the PoPo

Condition Black

January 21-Something Cracks the PoPo

Flower Power

Dumbing Down

2011 In Retrospect

Door Number 4

Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner!

Confessions of a Suicidal Policewoman

4th Down and Goal

Soop, Soup, SUPERBOWL!

We Don't Do Fashion

The Bomb Squad-Nostalgia

Private Big Cock

New Rook and Stuff

Wind and SH*T

Snowman Annihilation

Police Ban on NFL Christmas!

2nd and 10

Not So Quick Draw

Who Lets The Dogs Out

Touchdown!!!

Picking Up Butch

Taken Hostage

You Can Keep A Knockin'

Just Two Pieces Of Wood

Sit On This

Touchback

THE CRAPPER

1st and 10

TANKEDgiving

You Take My Breath Away

CrossFit Crunch and The Classy Ho

The Whore

Fargo Pilgrimage

Flag On The Field

On The Sidelines

Moose on the Loose

Field Goal

Definition of SUPERSTAR

A River Runs Through It

Fumbles

Scream...The Original

SO MANY MEN....TOO LITTLE TIME

Open The Gates

Public Service Annoucement

Bug and Boys

BugOrama

Meet Me In INDY

stranded

Frankenstein's Ghost

SPOOKtacular

Fargo Updates and A Vampire

Police FLOW Chart

FISHing

Buggin' Me

From Zero to Hero

Caregiver Village

ABORTion

Pole Bending

Man Moments with Bobbleheads

Clone Me!

Zach Galifianakis...beat me!

Football

Ring of Fire

Inside The G-Ride...Views from the Popo

Mountain High

Small Details

Rollin' The Grass

Visualize It

The Birds and Bugs

Girls Have....Boys Have...

Girls and Boys

Absence Minded

Princess Moments

Princess Rules