Evidence 101

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

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Wherever You Go...There You Live

Today is a sentimental reflection of why you love to live where you live. Got that? Thought so. Give a big hurrah for my east coast buddy, Robin, who got paybacks to be my guest!


Hello there! My name's Robin and I am the Masshole Mommy. Momma Fargo asked me to take over her space today and I have to admit that I don't feel worthy in the least. I mean, how can I compete with the kickass cops & robbers stories she tells? I'm just a boring work-at-home-mother.

But in the spirit of being a mom, I figured I'd talk a little bit about why I absolutely LOVE living in New England (specifically the Boston-ish area) and wouldn't want to raise my kids anywhere else.

To begin with, I live about 25 minutes south of the city (we call it the south shore around these parts), I am probably about half way between Boston and Providence, Rhode Island, which is the capital of the state for those of you who failed geography. I love that I can get to two major cities in a half hour or less. Speaking of major cities...I can get my Carrie Bradshaw on in New York City in a little over 3 hours.
I am about 20 minutes from the beach. And by beach, I mean the Atlantic Ocean. I'm about an hour from the mountains and tons of great skiing, snow tubing and snowboarding. Plus, there are two drive-in's fairly close to my house (yes, they still have some in existance). Oh, and when I want to blow my hard earned cash, I can go to the two casinos in CT that are just over an hour from where I live.
I bitch about it, but I get to see snow in the winter and our summers get hot. Our leaves turn all kinds of purty colors in the fall and I sneeze so much I wet my pants in the spring when everything blooms again. As jealous as I am of the people that have constant warm weather, there is nothing that compares to being able to experience all four seasons. And you haven't lived if you haven't shoveled 18 inches of wet snow...take my word for it.

I really do feel thankful that I was raised here and like I said, I wouldn't even think about raising my kids anywhere else.


Thanks so much, Robin! Go visit her the Masshole Mommy....she rocks! Wednesday...is Man Wednesdays or as I used to see Sawyer on there... it was Sawyer Porn for the ladies...yummy! Now she changes up the men for a variety show.

And tell everyone why you like your part of the world you live in!

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Otis Is In Da Haus....

I crumbled and let a man move into my house the next day after approving the divorce papers. I am SOOOO weak...and needy.

Yep. Big O is back in da house.

Although I sweep, dust, and mop everyday...it's worth it to have the BIG DUMMY back inside. It was lonely in here all by myself.

But I couldn't help it. He's a big guy...

blonde....with the prettiest brown eyes...

and a nice tail.

He's the man that I call the true love of my life....sigh.

I like 'em furry...especially when it's cold out...yessirreee...Wyoming tonight....18 below...at least here on the river. Right now he's snuggling on a rug by the fireplace. Spoiled dog.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Monday, November 22, 2010

Giving Thanks

Lenzey at Life, Love, And Living In It... bestowed an award upon my little head...early in November...

What an honor!  She put a smile on my face and I am very flattered she reads  my fodder. Thank you so much, Lenzey! Go visit her site...she is a delightful person. She writes about a variety of things...her family, life, movies...whatever intrigues or inspires her. I'm breaking the rules. I am supposed to pass this on to 5...but you know how I love to break the law!  I am giving thanks today to some of you out there I have neglected...

Jessica at Jess Mise Placed...for the wonderful fudge...wow! Can this chef pan out the dish on dish! I'm at least 80 pounds heavier and a lot happier! LOL. Thank You! Check her out...she is a first class chef with sass and her recipes are to die for as well as the humor she puts in her posts while revealing her top secrets! And a very kind and generous lady...we were bloggy first followers! I promise the package is on its way to you...this time for real...no more truck wreckage.

My Sista From Another Motha for sending me this fabbook...my FIRST divorce book....

I read it at the Allenspark Lodge...and laughed a lot. It was awesome! You rock, Sista! Thank you! She has known me almost all my life and still is a great friend...crazy....I love you, Man! Woman!

I have to confess that the boots I won from Tactical Pants Blog are the most awesome boots I have ever worn. My feet are happy....warm, and walk on pillows every day. Even when I jumped fences the other night with my broke butt...I landed with ease. No cringing on the landing as it usually goes at my age. I truck through snow and my feet stay dry. So...on that note...they even outscore my *shudder* Danner's that are $300.00. I might retire my Danner's to landscaping attire. Thank you so much, Jeanette! And check out her latest post on Cops On Top! It rocks...literally!

Women's Magnum 8" Stealth Force SZ WPi

And THANKS again to Bill and Juanita at Allenspark Lodge along with the lovely GunDiva! What a great stay I had....along with great newfound friends...it couldn't get any better! Allenspark Lodge is a must stop if you enjoy the mountains, great food, enchantment, and good friends!

And the last but not least...thanks to all my readers for the kind emails inquiring about my sanity. I appreciate the kindness, advice, and concern and love to chatter with all of you.  There are many  more...but special attention to the following who have listened to me and waded through the dark moments...thanks to Deb..my twin from Michigan, Christy, Dee, Mrs. Mom, GunDiva, Bill and Juanita, Coffeypot, The Queen, and Ed!

Happy Thanksgiving week to everyone!

I am working both landscaping and police work...hopefully I will have some turkeys to fry or to talk about in the next few posts! Otherwise...Sgt. Downtown Brown and myself are going to be working in the -3 degrees  (yes, below zero) on landscaping jobs.

Maybe I'll cook him a non-traditional steak for Thanksgiving since we are without kids and working 24/7. The other day he told me just to come work on his team so we would have the same time off schedule and we could work literally 24/7. I gave him the stink eye and told him vampires like me can't work police work during the day or the long night shift. I would melt. But we could get a lot done...and my business is taking off again with his help...so you never know...but then again... our team and the Sarg are the best ever!

Yeah...in Wyoming...we like our work like that!

Cops work in -3 degrees on and off duty! Crazy! 

And our tractors roll out in the snow...

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Broke Butt Mountain

I received a note on my table the other day. It was a note from a close friend...

You leave me sit here all alone. Next to an empty wine glass.  You don't take me out anymore. I collect dust. You bitch.

Signed...your computer

So...I'm back. Stories and awards and thank yous to follow this weekend. Dusting off the laptop now...

While I was away...I was here...Allenspark Lodge

Yes...Bill and Juanita...I stole your pic. Sorry..free advertising?

It was here I was treated like gold by the sweetest, most wonderful couple....Bill and Juanita of Allenspark Lodge. I met Tink and GunDiva as well and we set off for an adventure on horseback. Well...most of us. It was in the great wilderness...snow blowing at mach 7...I had just rescued a baby from a grueling death...and pulled the mother from the frozen creek...OK about 20 feet from the corral...I broke my ass. Not a donkey I was given to ride...but my own ass.

The horse zigged and I zagged...dammit.

After broken pride and broken ass, I got back on Washoe and trucked out into the beautiful country with my newfound friends.

But my ass was still broke. I didn't want to tell anyone...it was a beautiful and very enjoyable ride.

It was later when my gluteous maximus froze up and said...HELL NO. Juanita's suggestion of ginger root and hot tub helped tremendously. I can use the right side today. Left side is still saying...HELL NO.

Anybrokebutt, the trip was marvelous. I can't say enough.

You need to go there. 

The lodge and region are so enchanting...the food is magnificient...and the company is beyond fabulous. Thank you so much, Bill and Juanita! Words cannot describe what a pleasure the few days I spent at your home meant to me. And Bug didn't want to go home.

You helped heal my soul!

And now for the naked pics of my ass...it looks like this...

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Bouncy Butt Pluggers

My first encounter working with the man was in 1998. We met on my first suspicious death scene as an evidence technician...all our technicians are sworn officers. He was tall, elderly, but stoic and carried his intelligence around just as much as his friendly smile.

The house was in the BIG TREE AREA and the man had been dead many days. He was found by two friends who entered the home. They immediately suspected he died a horrible death...the house was ransacked...he was naked...porn was up on the computer... S & M gadgets were hanging from the ceiling including a large penis mouse trap...that said...."insert dick here for optimal pleasure." Ouch. I even cringed at the thought...and I didn't have a dick.

All the kitchen cupboards were open...plastic sacks everywhere. Food dumped out of the pantry cupboard and spilled cereal...half eaten. Toilet paper rolls strewn all over the utility room...with claw marks in them.  Everything else was neat and tidy.  Lots of cats. Everywhere. Running around freaked out at our presence.

Only I didn't suspect a homicide like the ladies. Cats. They were hungry. Scared. Been left alone with a dead man for a few days. Naturally...they would play with the toilet paper and plastic sacks. And try to find food. The cupboards opened easy and were not level, so some of them never stayed shut.

Doc agreed with me. No homicide. The autopsy later confirmed that. Probably a heart attack while on the shitter. But the victim was a peculiar man. Doc and I were fascinated with his life and had to explore...well, there was that...and a search warrant.

A well-known forensic pathologist, Doc had credentials longer than Center Street. He had testified in many famous trials. Been on 60 Minutes. Cold Case. In books. We were lucky to have him. I learned a lot over the years from him. Most of all...I learned a lot about deviant sex from our first case together.

The victim was found naked...face first in the kitty litter box...full of kitty poo. When we turned him over...he had a duct taped penis. Shaved body. The porn on his computer showed him dressed up in women's clothing and in various S & M poses...and hanging from his dick stuck in his penis trap from the ceiling. Apparently the cats were also famous porn stars and various pics included them in all their fluffiness being sexually manipulated. Way gross.

The treasures were endless. The detectives had initially disagreed with our findings of a cat ransacking and had obtained a search warrant. Ohhh... the fun we were about to have... that hadn't happened yet. It didn't take long into the execution of the search warrant to discover a man who lived in an underground world.

ME: What the? Cepi, what in the world is this?

OFFICER CEPI: Ewwww....what is that?

It squiggled. It moved when my gloved finger touched in. Neat and tidy and in order in the top dresser drawer. Somehow I felt (no pun intended)  it had been important in this man's life.

DOC: Let me see.

ME: See....ick.

DOC picked them up without gloves and wiggled them around. And placed them against his chest.

DOC: These are some of the best silicone bra inserts I have ever seen. See? Feel.

I poked one. Cepi poked one. We grimaced. Eww.

DOC: They have serial numbers on them. See? He must have put these in when he dressed up in women's clothing.

ME: Ucky.

CEPI: Way ucky.

DOC: At least he was clean. These were important to him because they were orderly and clean. And on the top drawer.

Cepi and I continued to search despite the fact we both thought we had no homicide. Ok. So we were ordered to search. Dang authority.

The bottom drawer contained the Mother Load. Cepi fell backward when he pulled "IT" out of the drawer. It was blue. Way blue. Like police blue. With a thing. Hard thing.


ME: What the hell is that thing?

CEPI: I don't know. I'm afraid to touch it.

DOC finally saw our demise and put on some rubber gloves and joined our treasure hunting.

DOC: Oh. Yes. I see.

ME: What?

CEPI: Yeah, what?  I don't get it.

DOC: It's a bouncy butt plugger, don't you know? Like a Hippity Hop with a butt plugger...a Hippity Hop with a hard on. See...he bounced and you know the rest.

ME: Ok. Ok. NO more. I'm done.

CEPI: Me too. Let's go to the kitchen.

Doc laughed. I think he liked to freak us out. And that was just the beginning.

We were to have a lot of fun on future calls. We all admired him for his accomplishments, prestige, and intelligence. Yet, he was a kind and simple man. Very kind. And he loved cops.

A couple years ago, Doc finally retired. Dementia had started to kick in and he realized he should step down from decades of being the County Coroner and only pathologist in Wyoming. Many people did not know of his mental condition. He had stopped doing autopsies two years prior to his retirement. Not because of his Dementia, but because he was old and his eyes were tired. But we always learned from him.
The last few years of his political reign as Coroner, he had consulted me on several infant deaths. I always got a hug and kiss when he greeted me. He was 80 when he left office.

He passed away in his home Saturday after losing his beloved wife to cancer a few years ago. She had been his fire and drive for life. After she passed away, the liveliness in him had become deflated, although he tried to stay chipper for everyone that worked close to him.  His voice always rang in my ears everytime I've been at an autopsy remembering what he taught me about how a body endures death, as it will continue when something strikes his memory. It was an honor and privilege for me to have worked with him. He will be sorely missed.

I can still hear his distinct voice and laugh..." It's a bouncy butt plugger, don't you know? "

Friday, October 29, 2010

The Mabbit

Ever wonder what lurks there in the night? Dwells amongst us, near us, next to us?  Wheels was about to encounter The Mabbit.

Wheels had a rough night. It was dark, windy, cold. The weather was a direct reflection of how the night would go.  Worried about passing the last few nights, his anxiety and anticipation were higher than normal. And maybe I didn't throw enough tennis balls for him to retrieve.

He responded to an overdose of a pregnant girl. Running to the location...(he is a protector of children...born and unborn)...he overshot the runway and ran past apartment A, going to apartment M. I stood next to apartment A, hoping to give him a hint. Distraught, he did not see the writing on the wall, and became upset with himself. He ran back and forth, still not registering the lettering system of the apartments in the hood.

ME: Wheels, calm down. What apartment are you supposed to go to?


ME: What apartment are you looking at?


ME: What way to they decrease or increase in the alphabet?

WHEELS: I am so dumb.

So with the enlightening moment, he entered apartment A. Brushing past the first occupant, he was directed to the pregnant female who had locked herself into the bathroom. Wheels tried talking her into opening the door. She wouldn't have it.

He broke the door and brought her out for the paramedics. The girl was one I had dealt with many times before. Drama Queen.  According to her friends, she was pregnant with "twins" at 5 weeks. Her boyfriend broke up with her a few days ago and she was depressed. She just announced to her boyfriend and friends she was pregnant. Took some pills in front of her friends because her boyfriend wouldn't come back to her. Thinking to myself...I wondered if she really was pregnant. And twins? At 5 weeks? A little early to determine that, but perhaps I was just being a cynical cop.

Well...she could just go to the funny farm. Doc would figure it out. And if she wasn't pregnant...the wrath of the Doc she was about to meet at the ER would bedazzle her forever.

As the paramedics were checking her vitals and the  meds she ingested...to the right I got a glimpse of the object coming through the front door. Sarg tapped me on the shoulder.

SARG: Look at that.

I turned. UGH! The Mabbit.

ME: Are you shitting me? What is she doing here?

SARG: How could not look at it. It's like a train wreck. Sexy outfit.

ME: I'm going to have to poke my eyes out.

SARG: I'm going to throw up.

It was the famous Mabbit. A well-known somewhat mentally handicapped person, 45 years old, a drunk, criminally inclined, short,  large,  lady type resemblance of a thing, big breasted, one eye drooped, cross-eyed...etc. OK. It was  the female version of Fat Bastard run over by a semi-truck. That's all I can do to describe her. Mother nature was not kind. And some guys referred to her as The Mabbit. Because that's her last name.

The Mabbit entered the apartment despite the fact it was occupied by 4 cops, 5 firemen, and 2 paramedics...plus all the household members. She was scantily dressed, wearing a tube dress like thing in leopard print. Damn sexy.

ME: Mabbit, you need to leave. You can't just walk in here.

MABBIT: I'm the apartment manager.

ME: It's not your business and we can't divulge any information. Please leave.

MABBIT: Well, I'm going to take the kids away so they don't get scared.

ME: Alright. Say...is Larry taking you out on the town tonight?

MABBIT: No. Why?

ME: You're all dolled up in that sexy dress.

MABBIT: Oh. Well, I just put this on to please him.

WHACK! Sarg socked me a good one.

SARG: Stop it. I'm going to laugh. Or barf. I can't determine which first.

ME: Come on. You know you want her. Heck...she's so hot, I might.

SARG: You are so gross.

WHEELS: Boss, I'll take Mabbit out.

ME: You are such a nice boy.

SARG: Do you want to warn him?

ME: I can't. I'm just observing him today. Can't help him. Maybe you should.

SARG: I don't know. We all learned the hard way.

Wheels was a gentleman and took Mabbit and the kids to her apartment. Shortly thereafter, he returned...white as a ghost.

WHEELS: Boss, Boss. She was so gross.

ME: Why? What happened?

WHEELS: When she got to her apartment, she sat down and her dress rode up and well...it was like icky.

ME: Yeah? What was icky?

WHEELS: Her va j j was just hanging out. I about puked. Then she got up and bent over to pick up a blanket for one of the kids and I saw the biggest moon and craters ever.

ME: Was it like THE GROWLER? [chased him with claw hands]

SARG: Yeah...did it come out after you?

ME: Did she have money in her crack for you?

WHEELS: This was a setup again, wasn't it.

ME: Nope. You are just such a gentleman that we can't interrupt you when you do kind acts or change your personality.  You acted out of the kindness of your heart. And Mabbit will love you forever. So when you respond to her place again, she will remember how nice you were. And she shares all of her with us. Sometimes a little too much of her. Is that so bad?

WHEELS: In this case? Yes.

SARG: You know, she's a stripper, don't you?

WHEELS: No way. No way.

SARG: Way.

So....I socked Sarg back. Because he was making fun. Mabbit would not even qualify for an underground nightclub stripper. Heck...not even the bouncer. Well...maybe the bouncer. Back in the car, Wheels was still pondering the stripper thing...

WHEELS: Boss, I can't believe she is a stripper. That is just nasty.

ME: *blink*blink*

WHEELS: Dont' you think so?

ME: I think it's so fun you are so naive and innocent.

WHEELS: Yeah. I've never been to a stripper club. Ever. You'd think since I was in the military I would have gone, but I didn't.

ME: *blink*blink* This is a setup, right?

Friday, October 8, 2010

Define ME...Karmachameleon

Freedom of speech. I believe in the Constitution, the Bill of Rights...what our country was founded on. I believe in God. Do I believe in Karma? I don't know. Mostly not.

I received a comment on one of my past posts about "my psychological issues" relating to the process I was going through when my husband decided to leave me after 22 years together.

Apparently, that person, "Annie", was upset I had lied to a suspect to gain a confession. Cop shit 101. No one understands it unless they have been in the copworld, or they believe cops use tactics...which are legal...by the way, to investigate or interrogate. Am I a liar? No. Have I lied? Yes. Doesn't make any sense. Yes. I use tactics in my job which do not define me as a person.

So Annie believes Karma has bitten me in the ass...

Do I think when I walk down a road and step on an innocent ant carrying his lunch home that I will someday stumble on that same road and hit my head because I killed a creature? No. I. do. not. I believe in Natural Selection.

Do I think that if I pull a weed and put it in the compost pile instead of burning in my fire pit and roasting weenies over it...that somehow I will be rewarded? Not unless you compare composted soil to a good weenie.

Do I think because I mow my lawn and cut the heads off the grass blades that death will fall upon my doorstop some day? For the love of Harriet.

Do I think God will strike us down when we do bad? Well, if that was true...no human life would be left here. I think God forgives.

I believe in being a steward to the Earth and helping people. I think most people are good, not evil. Even though I often only deal with evil...most people are good. Living good...doesn't mean with material riches.

My blog is me. It is who I am. What I have seen, what I think, what I have witnessed, what I was told, what I FEEL. Simple as that. You get to know the cop as a person. Daily struggles...triumphs...and the insides and outs of cop work...and my personal life...the in betweens.

To overanalyze me or define me by Karma is ridiculous. I am no mystery. I am a human being inside a cop suit. Citizens often look at us as the "untangible human figure." We struggle with that stereotype and battle on a daily basis.

I think like a cop and mother 24/7. I am a girl. I like to be a girl. I am country. I am city. I am many things. Define me. I like it all like that. Most of all...I am good. I protect people. I open my heart to others, yet, I can de-personalize things from work.

If you were to define me by one thing...know I have HEART.  I know who I am. Am I lost? No. But I am going through a tough and sad time which has a light at the end of the tunnel. That is all it is.

I haven't changed since I was a kid. I've always been generous and giving. If I stopped doing that...well, that's just not going to happen. No matter how much I get "beaten" up by life.

There is no abandonement issue. There are no bad things I learned from my parents. My dad was a great father and role model. My mother is a kind and gentle soul. Although I haven't always agreed with everything they have done...I have loved them unconditionally. And the bad things in life...are behind, not something I even remember or hold onto to. I was taught forgiveness at a very young age. It stuck. I came out of my parents separation a stronger person and I got to know my father. And now I am getting to know my mother. How can that be bad?

Was my marriage dysfunctional? Yes, at times it was. Give and take on both sides. At times it was very good. More good than bad. And I stayed because of love. I didn't stay because I was stuck or scared to be alone. I didn't stay because I was weak. I stayed because I loved him. Good and bad. Simple as that. Was I living a dream? No. I was living life. I still am living life. I have feelings.  I write about fairytales and Princesses because as a kid that is what you dream about. I still believe it. Disney did that to me. Sue me. I'm a little girl like that.

Because I took snapping, belittling, and yelling doesn't mean I was battered. It meant I was strong because it didn't make me a victim. It didn't make me lash out. It didn't make me hide. It didn't make me treat people as I had been treated.  And it didn't happen on a daily basis. It did happen a lot. Did I stand up for myself...yes. Did I lose the battle...yes. Did I think he would eventually stop being like that? I don't know. It's OK. If I find someone later in life...well, I will choose a lot more wisely.

People are not perfect. Is my husband a bad person? No. What he did and does isn't right or good. His life is on a bad path. But he has good in him. Have I hated him? No. I do not hate. But I have disliked what he has become.

I am not afraid to be alone. I have been alone a lot. Married and single. I'm independent and strong. Again...I am not a mystery to be unfolded. I give you myself right out in the open. The Dragon's soft spot revealed.

When I write...I write the emotions I go through. What should scare you the most is the crisis or emotions cops go through...and the fact they have to put on a game face at work...while we protect you...and do it fairly. Imagine that stress overload and the burdens they are able to carry. And I do. That should scare people. Or maybe not. Cops can take a lot and keep on ticking.

That should tell you, Annie, how strong I am. The fact that I share my journey, my emotions...should not make you overanalyze what you read. Or even overanalyze me. Everyone goes through change. Everyone goes through emotional times...good and bad. Take me how I am.

Am I sorry that I have shared my emotions or thoughts on my blog? Absolutely not. And I will continue. And anyone can still comment as they wish. It's Freedom of Speech and I embrace it. Am I upset at Annie? No. It's her opinion. Did I scowl when I read that? No. I did think WTF. Someone who really doesn't know me...thought she would analyze me from a computer. And some of what you said, Annie, was right. But some was very wrong. You missed the mark. Queenie and Red summed it up enough.

I don't study human behavior from a book or think I can look inside someone's mind. I live human behavior when I am in your house...seeing how you act....what you have...how you live...how you treat others. I'm pretty good at it. And I try to help during that time based upon human behavior. I know people. I know myself. Do I have a change to go through? Yes. Am I still me? Yes.

The only thing that should be abandoned around here is hate.

The reason I said I was going to someday believe that being ALONE was OK....was simply because I chose to grow old with someone.  And now a different choice was being made by someone else. Loss of control or choice. If you want to label it...it was that. Growing old with someone...that was the path I wanted to take. It doesn't mean that I have abandonement issues. It doesn't mean I fear being alone. It was just simple. 

So here's what I think of your Karmachameleon....SQUISH!

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Hub Caps

I recognized him immediately from the back of his "pointed" head. When he turned around and smiled at me with those birth control glasses...he lit up my day. I wanted to tell him he was GREAT, and I would trade him for Lunch Money anyday. Afterall, in the ghetto, the kids must have been traded their lunch money for hub cabs...or maybe they were stealing them...I get it mixed up. Why couldn't it work for me?

WHEELS: You look stressed.

ME: Yeah.

WHEELS: Miss me?

ME: [smiling] No.

WHEELS: Come on, Boss, you miss me.

ME: No. [trying not to smile]

WHEELS: A little bit?

ME:  October 8th. Cold Stone. German Chocolate Cake or you fail.

WHEELS: Isn't that our first day back together?

ME: Yes.

WHEELS: Shouldn't we celebrate at the end?

ME: Who's celebrating. I just want ice cream. I thought I trained you.

WHEELS: *blink* blink*

ME: Charlie, here, gets it.

OFFICER CHARLIE: Yeppers. Boss says ice cream. Ice cream it is. Need it at the beginning. Good impressions.

ME: Are you ready to graduate?

WHEELS: Oh, yes.

ME: Mwwaahhhaaa! Barbie needs ice cream.  The pen is mightier than the sword.

WHEELS: The question is....are you ready for The Wheels?

ME: *blink*blink* Lorrrdt, help us.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Resident Evil: Afterlife

The night was still, dark, and the cooling temperatures of fall were starting to creep through my uniform. Clouds moved in and a silent, gentle rain fell all night. Luck would have it the rangemaster announced shotgun qualifications under these circumstances. And so...Lunch Money and I made our way through the storm toward the range.

Loaded up and ready for war, I felt like Milla Jovovich from Resident Evil...only not that hot.

The Rangemaster announced the qualifications and we proceeded to our marks. Starting from the 50 yard line, we worked our way forward. Me with a shotgun is like hot sex. I love them. Especially modified tactical style with a pistol grip and a shorty stock. Pump action. Although most of the guys prefer the Benelli semi-auto. I'm all about the pump action Remington 870 modified. And I look cool. That's what counts when you are a girl with a big gun.

Lunch Money and I did as the Rangemaster said. His shots were right on and so our competition began. Even though we were there to qualify, Lunch Money and I had a little game going. That's what happens when you get two girls together. Power struggle. And he was such a bitch.

Approaching the 5 yard line, we were neck and neck and almost to the end of the qualification. Advancing toward our targets, our senses were elevated with the rain and darkness. We could hear our boots pounding the ground as we came upon our targets. The final command was set and we fired our last rounds.

RANGEMASTER: 96, what the hell did you just do?

ME: [blowing raindrops off my hair] Uh, I shot the target right through the middle and killed the bastard like I was supposed to.

RANGEMASTER: No. I saw that. What the hell are you doing firing that weapon from the hip.

ME: I just saw Resident Evil 3D. And it's cool to shoot like that. And the bad guy is dead. And I didn't miss. And I looked cool....like Milla. Did I say I looked cool and I killed him?

RANGEMASTER: What the fuck does Milla have to do with police qualifications?

ME: She's hot.

RANGEMASTER: I don't know what we are going to do with you.

ME: Well, you don't state in your qualification policy that I have to have the front sight picture alignment and the gun at my face. So...in real life, I will probably do the same thing. Sometimes you are so close to your threat, you have to aim and fire. Sometimes you have to adapt to the little alien zombies.

RANGEMASTER: We are shooting people here! Not aliens! Not zombies!

ME: Right.

Monday, September 6, 2010

Just LOSE it!

Gone are the days of simple. Cruisers with no sterero. I remember what it was like to patrol in silence. Our police radio was all we had for entertainment. That and deep thought, the night noises on the streets, and our own voices in our heads.

Then came the AM/FM radio. We thought we were in hog heaven...no pun intended. Variety in the late night hours kept us awake. Now we have CD players and iPod docking stations. What would we do without them?

Last night was the first night I had Lunch Money. His voice is like fingernails grating on a chalkboard. He's a nice kid and all...but annoying as fuck. That's the only way I can explain it. With an f-bomb. Literally.

During the entire 12 hour shift, he whined every 10 minutes about my music. And he has a high-pitched voice on the verge of turning into puberty...only he's 27 years old. He turned the stereo down to volume 1 for almost the entire time. Taking a dis for a few minutes doesn't bother me, but whining for the entire night makes my head spin around backwards.

For training purposes, I always ask a recruit what kind of music they listen to. It tells me something about their personality and then I put in the opposite. Torture? No. Well, somewhat. They have to learn to focus. They have to block out distractions. What better way then to concentrate on their listening skills than to distract them with music they hate and have the police radio on, their FTO quizzing them and teaching them all night? It has worked for all the other trainees I have had. Every. Last. One. Of. Them. After awhile...when I ask...they can't tell me what song is playing. Except Wheels. He learned how to focus on every sound around him. When I quizzed him...he started singing the song, telling me what was going over the police radio and what was happening outside the car. He said it was from his military training. He got a gold star.

Not this fickle white boy. After 8 hours of telling him to can his whining, I put in different music. Queen. Led Zepplin. Sugarland. Beyonce for Pete's sake. And then one of the all time greatest songs EVER. Low Rider. How can anyone not like Low Rider?

LUNCH MONEY: You actually like this?

ME: What the? You know what? I am done with your crap. Sick of it. I've been diplomatic with you the entire night. Now you better can it. Your job isn't to whine about every song in the stereo. I even let you turn it down to volume 1. Now stuff it. You need to focus.

LUNCH MONEY: Well, I can't possibly focus with this kind of music. If you would just let me put in my music. A little Rob Zombie. Korn is even too mellow for me. And I absolutely can't do my job if the CD plays over more than one time through. If you would plug your iPod in, at least there would be enough songs to play through and you wouldn't have to switch CDs.

ME: *blink* blink* {with smoke coming out of my ears}

LUNCH MONEY: Well, the stuff I like is real music. I can listen to it over and over.

ME: This is the last time we are discussing this. Do you hear me?

LUNCH MONEY : I don't understand why you have to torture me.

ME: You don't understand. How am I going to trust you when we walk into a family domestic where the bad guy aims a gun in your face?

LUNCH MONEY: Well, of course, I would shoot him.

ME: Oh, that simple, huh?


ME: Booool-shit! You can't even let music you don't care for slide off your back. How are you going to be able to draw your gun, focus on the eminent threat, and block out the screaming wife and crying baby and the dog circling your feet and the toddler tugging on your leg and the neighbor coming up behind you and knowing the location of your partner or backup in order to decide whether to pull the trigger? You don't have a clue. That's what I mean by focus. You can focus on your target, yet you know everything going on around you. But you tone it down. The target is on volume 10, your surroundings on volume 4. And you see and hear 360 degrees. Got it?

LUNCH MONEY: Oh, I am sure when the time comes my adrenaline will kick in and my senses will be heightened and I will be just fine.

ME: Fuck me up the ass.


ME: Take me to the gym before I kill people. Especially clueless ones. I need to work out.

LUNCH  MONEY: Oh, good. I can listen to my music while I run with my earphones on.

And so the entire night continued. He had good times and mostly annoying ones. He was even silly on a DUI arrest. The only relief I got was during my workout. I have 5 weeks with him. I don't even hate the kid...he just annoys the shit out of me. There is an insane asylum about 300 miles from here and THEY might send me to it. So if I fall off the radar...you'll know I just lost it.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Monday Minute

Ian's last Monday Minute. Makes me a sad copper. Hail, hail! Thanks to Heather and Melissa for keeping the tradition going!
Monday Minute
This week's co-host is Not Your Average Single Momma. Funny. Lady. That's all it takes right? Go check her out. What is your favorite 80s flick? Footloose. One genre of music needs to be banned. Which genre? Helllll to the NO! No genre should be banned. I am against censorship-just as bad of an idea as when they burned books. Shame. Shame. What is your all time favorite candy? EMINEM. Naked. How 'flawed' is your driving record? Perfect. I'm the popo, you know.  However, it is true I've had lots of speeding tickets in the past and my license was suspended once when I was wearing the uniform, driving a police car, protecting your city, but I didn't know it. Clerical error at the State level. Good thing I didn't get pulled over...we arrest for DUS. I just happen to run it for training...and proceeded to shit my pants. What was your high school mascot? The Pronghorn and finally... What color socks are you wearing?   None. I am completely naked while blogging this and my ass is stuck to my leather office chair.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Ghetto Gardening

Being a Master Gardener, I appreciate all the different landscape designs, plant selections, and yard retreats. Especially Ghetto...Gardening.

Walking up to interview a suspect for Child Abuse in the ghetto last night, I couldn't help but admire their choice of yard design.

Clay pots on the steps, wooden window boxes on the trailer...the flowers were neatly arranged and in a multitude of colors...and the fragrance...plastic. Oh, there was dirt in the pots and window boxes. It makes a difference to have them growing in good, fertile soil.

Engine parts. Apparently if you stack them in piles in the lawn...it's yard art. Just like Van Gogh...only different...and very metal. The grease makes the personality come out of the sculpture and the interpretation of the piece says a lot about America.

Trash heaps. A new type of composting. 10-15 years in the making...perhaps longer...becomes rich soil for the garden. Butter boxes. Fritos packaging...baby diapers. If the shit smell attracts flies, the maggots compost things even faster. Brilliant!

Keystone Light cans. Thrown in the corner of the yard near the front gate...recycling. Green people. Love them. Being green is great for our environment...and these fine citizens were just doing their part to clean up our state.

Lawn furniture. Even though the stuffing was hanging out of a 1970s Lane sofa with gold, brown, and white flower print, it was quite quaint on the porch next to the Bucket-O-Butts.

And the large chain laying across the top steps...leading to Cujo...the attack pit bull, my friend,...he beats a stone lion. Cujo... meet the TASER.


I love Ghetto Gardening.

Now time to introduce myself to Child Beater. I'll put a flower in his cap. I'd like to put a cap in his ass...but then again...the pen is mightier than the sword, right? Maybe I can start off the conversation by picking his brain about his gardening techniques...

Wednesday, August 4, 2010


After Bill exhausted us, GENTLE BEN and I heard Highway Patrol scream over the radio for assistance. We boogied to their rescue 6 miles away from our location. At the time we were the only ones free. The city was hopping with crime. Soon...they were calling for medical and a female officer.

By the time we had arrived...4 city cops were there. 3 deputies. 4 Highway Patrol. Two ambulances. A fire station. The parents.

The subject was 16 years old. She bit a fireman. She bit a deputy. She assaulted two Highway Patrol. She was struggling while being handcuffed and strapped to a gurney by the time GENTLE BEN got there. Slow fast driver. I kept pushing my foot on the imaginary gas petal on my side of the car. But he got us there safely.

She was high on something. Screaming. Non-sensical. Fighting. The best we could figure it out was probably a combination of drugs and we all thought Extacy-X was one of the substances. Through our Kevlar gloves, her skin was very hot to the touch. She was burning up from the inside out. Medical transport was critical.

She had been at a party at an unknown location. Her name was Jaymie.

She was nuts. Higher than a kite. The ambulance had to get the white straight jacket and straps. Two sets of handcuffs. Spit hood over her face. Two fireman and a police officer and ...her mother had to ride with the ambulance while they transported her code 3 to the ER.

GENTLE BEN: She was crazy. A fox, tho.

ME: Yep. Not one you would bring home to Mama. And Bears don't mix with foxes.

GENTLE BEN: Definitely not.

ME: Had enough action tonight?

GENTLE BEN: This was fun.

ME: Bears. So much different than Jack Russells.

GENTLE BEN: Sorry about my slow driving. Thanks for all the action.

ME: That's Ok. We missed all the vampire action.

That became our last call of the night. I sent the Bear home to hibernate. At least I know how to show a guy a good time. It's something.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Inspirational Monday Minute

Cohost this week is Jenn from Brown Eyed Girl. Go check her out and link up with Ian's Monday Minute.
- Describe your life in one word.


- Is there something you wish you had learned how to do as a child?

Foreign languages.

- Who has been the biggest influence on your life?

God... first and foremost. Second...Lt. Dangle from Reno 911. Shut it! Love the short shorts.

- What is your greatest dream/hope/aspiration?

For my Bug to have a better, more fruitful life than Hubs and I and of course, World Peace.

and finally...
-Do you believe you have reached your potential? Why/why not?
No. If you ever reach your potential...could you imagine the growth stopping?  That would pretty much put a stop to existing. You should always set new goals, new dreams, reach for them and learn, grow...with every day. Go outside your comfort zone and stop being a couch potato. The sky's the limit. I can't stop learning or growing...it's impossible.

Go link up with Jenn!

Monday, June 28, 2010

Monday Minute

Monday Minute with Boobies, Babies, and a Blog! Whoot, whoot!

Has anyone you've known personally lived to at least 100?

No, I get rid of them before that and encourage them not to live that long. They get needy at a 100.
Actually, my grandma is 94, so she might.

What material possession do you value the most?

My family photographs.

What do you think happens to us after we die?

Well, our bodies decompose and good guys go to Heaven.

And who gives a shit what happens to us...bodies...they rot. Yucky. Want some pictures. Seen lots of yucky bodies. We are dead. Just need to do your part on earth to get to the Pearly Gates.  And believe me, we are lucky, God gives us a lot of "oh, shits" and forgives us. So you can be a screw up and still get to Heaven. It's a beautiful thang.

Most embarrassing item in your house?

The tornado hit the Great Room. So that is pretty embarassing right now. The other thing is Hubs. Just kidding.

and finally...

If you could rename yourself, what would your name be?
Mariska Hargitay. Rich and beautiful. Duh. I think we were switched at birth.

And stand by for news...later. Two very lovely peeps gave me some awards and I have the new pics for our Chargers.

Saturday, June 26, 2010


The river is still rising and holding at our sandbags. We have some leaks, but not major.

One concern we have is the water is soaking into the earth and moving toward the house. It is soaked. I dug down about 75 feet from the river's edge and it is soggy. So, somewhere that water has to go. When it soaks in, it sometimes collapses off the banks. Here are some pics from the first part of the flood and comparing only the road washed area today. I will have new pics later. The storm is coming and I hear thunder. I feel a little rain. It looks like Tornado whether, especially to the east.

Not so swell. Actually, it is swell. Swelling up the river.

Ahoy, mateys!

River View in City. Normally runs about 1/2 this speed and size at this point in the river.

Last week. Now you can't see the sidewalk and it's moved about 150 farther and deeper.

Our road. One week ago.

Road today. It falls in a little each day.

My lovely friends. About 40-50 come every year to enjoy our little oasis. They are enjoying the flood.

This pic was taken one week ago. Normally, all the foreground is a deep dry ravine. All full. Today all this is under water. The river has come up about 1.5 feet since this was taken.

Normally this edge of the river is a 15 foot drop off the edge to the water, straight down. So that shows how high it really is flowing.

I can't capture the entire width of the river. To the left, it still is flowing over our island and goes another 175 feet. One corner of the river on our property is 24 feet deep at the fall flow. Which is when wade fishing is great. That spot now is over 40 feet deep. This corner is running fast, has many eddies and whirlpools, and is over 24 feet deep when it is normally 3 feet.

Storm coming. Water goes all the way to those cliffs with just a few willows poking through.

Glendo, Wyoming. This is where the MIGHTY river ends up and is being held because Nebraska can't handle all that water at once. Weenies. I have never seen the water at this point in the 35 years I have lived in Wyoming.

Although these pics are a few days old with the exception of two...the road update and the house, the river rises daily little by little. The Bureau said the scary waiting part should be over next week. I think we might be OK. As for town and downriver, and Glendo. They are flooding much worse than these pics. Many people are suffering water damage not from overflow, but from ground seeping into their basements in the city.

Since we are normally high above the river except a couple low spots and we have one creek running into the river above us and one by the house...I think we will be OK. Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers and finger and toe crossing. I think you saved us. The power of prayer.

Friday, June 25, 2010

Tactital Pants...Get Some

Jeanette at Tactical Pants has featured an interview with me on their site. You can read it here.

Meanwhile...roam around the site...check out other stories...buy pants. They feature a great site where you can find a pair of tactical pants for any job. Especially emergency professions.

I use them for everything if you read about it.

And they are one of the greatest things about being a cop...great pants...better than donuts.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Poo On The Monday Minute

1 - Have you ever had any feelings towards one of your teachers back in the day?

No. I wasn't allowed to have feelings. I did what I was told. Geesh, people. I grew up in the stone age when we respected our teachers.

2 - What's the most embarrassing thing that happened while at work? (If you never worked then make something up)

Once I died my hair and it turned pink. I couldn't get in to the hairdresser to get it fixed so I had to go to work for one day. I tried  to disguise it by redying it only to look worse. Needless to say they called me Frenchie and Lincoln (Penny). The public even looked at me and asked what the hell?
3 - When was the last time you crapped yourself?

Probably when I was a baby. Ian, why are we talking about poo again? Men and their fascinations. I swear.

4 - What is one thing you have always kept a secret and why have you kept this a secret for so long?

Uh, duh. That is why it is still a secret. Mum's the word. I'm holding out for the Jerry Springer show before I reveal any secrets.

and finally...

5 - What's your best advice for us habitual coffee drinkers as to not have to poop right after drinking it?
Again, we are talking about poo? Coffee is good for you. Anitoxidants, keeps you regular. And after your morning poo...why do you turn around and look at it? Why do we look at poo? And why is coffee poo soft? My best advice to coffee drinkers...keep drinking and pooping. It's good for you. Ok, my second best advice is everyone that drinks coffee and poops...take a pic...and email it to Ian. Good poops to you!

Tuesday, June 1, 2010


Sarg is pissed at me.

He asked me to be the squadleader and I said, "No."

Red Lobster burned down today.

I had a gift certificate to go there I hadn't used.


That about sums up the start of the day. Hopefully, the night will get better.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Jesst Wednesday

Today's guests are Jessica "Jess" from La Fin Dumond Farm and Jess Mise Placed and her beautiful daughter, Wednesday. Culinary spectacular happenings at Jess Mise Placed and family farm adventures at La Fin Dumond Farm. Both well worth the follow...one of my first blog followers. We've been shaking up the blog world since our beginnings.

Crazy, fun, and very real. These two ladies tell it like it is. Mother-daughter perspective...coming to you from the Rocky Mountains...in Florida. It can happen.Great ladies with  fantastic attitudes and big smiles!
Tag along with them...I guarantee you'll want to stay...

Growing up in northern Utah in the 70’s - 90’s was what one might call, the last hurrah for keeping women in the kitchen barefoot and pregnant. I was constantly asked when I was getting married and who my missionary was I was waiting for ..(because I MUST be, considering I was turning into an old maid at the ripe age of 17.)

Needless to say women weren’t high on the list of values we were all suppose to uphold. .. Which I seemed to have a difficult time doing.

Say what you will regarding your own experience there, but mine was all about how worthless I was. Thankfully my mother had a heavy dose of upstate New York hippie in her blood, so rebelling against the establishment was encouraged.

This had one of two effects on the local PoPo; they either got a good laugh at my unruly attitude or I was harassed unmercifully.

I will note, the entire time I grew up there I never once saw a female officer. NEVER. As it was I had a healthy aversion to male authority over my life. While there were a few officers that befriended me and encouraged my trying out for the boys soccer team and the like, (Girls OBVIOUSLY should NOT be playing such a thing; besides, what NORMAL girl would even want to? ...:P ) there were a few who made it their personal quest to make my life miserable for even considering it, and putting their little boys to shame when I made the team and they didn’t.

(I should probably mention I had been playing soccer since birth, and that little bit with the qualifying for the Jr. Olympics for our state in cross country in 10th grade had a lot to do with it.)

One officer in particular would wait for me to leave the school parking lot so he could pull me over for “speeding”. Which meant I was doing 15 in a 20 MPH zone because I knew he was there. We would go through the daily ritual of license, insurance, reckless driving and how he was “letting me off” .. Because I never once got ticketed. I even went so far at to ask for a ticket, because the guy was a class “A” jackass. And, unlike the other “well endowed” girls he harassed, I couldn’t bring myself to cower down to his power trip.

He was one bad apple in a barrel of many good ones. After getting sick of the ogling and suggesting I behave like a lady, I approached an officer I knew who lived next door and whom worked in the same town. I let him know about a few of the other girls who were dealing with this same guy and he was all over it. In the end none of the other girls would formally complain, but my big mouth landed him a desk job .. If I understand it right.

The waiting for me after school was just one of the many places he would pull me over. Should I be anywhere in that one streetlight town, he would find me like a bucktoothed hound dog in heat.

It created an intense distrust of men in uniform despite the numerous honorable ones who were there to help.

I don’t think it was all a matter of a bad experience with a power hungry PoPo, but simply the environment at the time. When you are a small (as in under 100 lbs. .. At the time) female in Utah during the late 80’s with boobs, hips and the inability to see yourself as less than a man, it creates turbulence. You appear to be easily intimidated, so when you don’t respond in the traditional manner, it seems it upset the balance of natural order in the state. (The natural order being a smog of masculinity that is easily threatened.) Combine this with an individual in a position of authority, and there will be a mass migration of suicidal sheep running lemming-like into a really big fan.

At this point in my life I am more comfortable, and thankful for the PoPo. I have an intense respect for what they’re willing to do. With the way this world has gone, and with the recent targeting of officers in some locations, it makes me intensely sad to see the PoPo viewed as a “them against us”, bad element. Because it’s not. I do understand how one bad encounter can tarnish your perception for years. However, I think it’s vital to remember how hard the “good guys” have to work to compensate for those few bad apples; and this with the stresses that are on our heroes in blue in this day and age.

I don’t use the word lightly; so simply ask yourself; what would our life be like if we didn’t have them around? Someone has to play the responsible adult in a world full of people who don’t want to follow the rules. These days the rules and stakes are so much higher than what I ever had to put up with.

Having a rebellious teenaged son, I can say from experience, the PoPo are good people. The majority of our folks in blue truly care, and have demonstrated that to my family time and again. I mean sure, we know every Palm Beach county officer by name, and they know our son, but they have all shown immense compassion and support. Even when friends and certain family have dismissed him as a lost cause, our local PoPo keep trying.

I’m not much of one for painting a rainbow where there isn’t one, but I can honestly say there are few people in this world that I genuinely respect more than our first responders. -It’s not just my bloggy friendship with Mamma or the officers we’ve worked with regarding our son that I say this. It’s more that I am capable of appreciating the PoPo for what and who they are. I might not be able to see myself as less valuable than the next guy, but I’m smart enough to appreciate a beneficial entity when it keeps the bad guys at bay, and gives a young kid options in life.

Keep on keeping on Mamma; you truly rock! Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently!

.. And thank you. Should we ever cross paths, the coffee and doughnuts are on me. ;D

Now for my dear daughter. Gird your loins. Trust me on this.

“Wednesday’s” opinion; thirteen year old girl growing up in So. Florida.

What do I think of the police? Well, when my friends and I hear a siren we all grab this one friend of ours and say, “RUN!!! They’re coming for you!!”, just to mess with her. She freezes, says, “Quick! Hide my bag!”, (Although she never has anything illegal in there) and pretends to run. So the police don’t seem very scary when my friends and I hear them. We end up joking and laughing.

How I feel as a teen... Hmm... Well I can honestly say I just want it to be done with and never have to relive some of this drama, backstabbing, lies, manipulating and so on and so forth. I’ve come to terms with the fact that girls at this age are brutal, and the guys tend to be more laid back... even if they are a bit childish and immature most the time. So, instead of getting lied to, backstabbed, and all of that lovely stuff, I tend to have more guy friends than girl friends. And they are just friends! I don’t think of any of them that way.

Peer pressure has never really been an issue with me. Yes, I have had kids come up and ask if I want to try some weed or crack, (you name it, it’s Florida) and I’ve always made it clear that I don’t want to destroy my future of being a New York Times Bestseller. If they want to do it then go ahead, be my guest, but I refuse to take any of that stuff. I also see how my older brother has made dumb choices with some of the less addicting stuff. He ended up in the hospital once after smoking pot. Somebody laced it with something is what the doctors said. He’s the only reason I’ve ever really met the police. They act real tough in front of him but they are really nice to me and my parents. That’s probably why I’m not weird about talking to them like some people are. I don’t think they ever really met one. Maybe they needed to, and thats why they’re freaked out.

Alcohol has crossed a few lips of my friends but I don’t see the appeal of it. I hear there's an awful after taste if your not used to it. I don’t get why I would want to drink something that’s flavor is going to last only a second? I don’t understand teen drinking. They want their problems to go away, but they’re only causing more. I have a cousin that goes to my school and she’s made real problems for everyone with that. She even got herself kicked out of her mom’s house so now she lives with my uncle. At least he doesn’t drink.

My friends and I are pretty close. I don’t just choose anyone to be my friend, they have to earn my trust and keep it. If somebody earns my trust and loses it then it’s their loss, I don’t hand out many second chances. If I were to give out a second chance there are only two reasons why I would do so:

They have to be extremely close to me and I have to have known them for years for me to say “I forgive you.”

Or I’m feeling generous that day and what they did wasn’t really a big deal.

Even so, they will never have my full trust again.

My mom says that’s just Jr. High, and I just have to get through it. Then I will be one step closer to success because it didn’t kill me.

What I view as my life ahead is that I am going to be a New York Times Bestseller and a “will be”. I know what I want to do in life and I’m going to get there no matter what it takes. I’ve saved my money since I was 4 for college. I want to go to journalism school in Seattle. I don’t want to be that chick who had dreams and never accomplished them, I am going to be that chick who makes it in life. You are all going to see my name on that list, I promise you that!



Thanks so much to Jess and Wednesday for their thoughts! I have no doubts Wednesday is going to succeed at her goals! Go check out the family at Jess's blogs. You'll be treated by her latest sweets! Go stalk her!

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Be DEEdazzled

This post marks the first guest post in a series. This week is about looking back and looking forward, how we were raised, what we think of the police... now and then, parenting, family, and life through the teenager today. I guarantee the people you are going to meet will inspire, enlighten, and tickle your funny bone...all while we get serious.  I think you will find the masters behind these blogs interesting and a part of what makes America great...tag along with all of us.

Dee...at Redheaded Stepchild has gratiously accepted the challenge. She posts a variety of topics...keeps it lively...and hosts Say Anything where several bloggers are featured in a very unselfish blog boosting lots of good reads. She gives a lot back without asking anything in return. She interacts with bloggers and is a fireball behind her blog that I really enjoy talking to and sharing conversations with... a lovely lady...a smart cookie...here is Dee...

I spent my "growing up" years on a ranch in the SW Missouri Ozark hills. Our small family pretty much stuck to themselves, and had our own set of ethics we lived by. There might as well have been a big sign at the end of our long driveway that said Go Away. It was a seclusion that I liked, and began my lifelong journey to keep.

The friends I made, the life I lead, all contributed to producing an ornery redneck tomboy. I embraced the heritage. Probably too much so, during my teens, when I was constantly pulling stunts and pushing the limit. The popo = bad news. Underage drinking, skipping school, spray painting on the road....all of these were frowned upon by the POlice.

The sheriff of our county was right out of the movies. He was known for using his flashlight to subdue people, and more often than not, was a bit too aggressive with it. There were tales of him "busting" parties where there was alcohol & pot, only to join them. Stories about him being easily persuaded by the teen female species, ran rampant. Though it wasn't something I ever personally tested. For vague, unknown reasons, he didn't like my dad. And, considering the country life works on that whole next-of-kin thing, I avoided the sheriff at all costs.

The nearest town (pop.300) had a cop that Barny Fife was probably based on. Good natured, easy going, and easily fooled. The couple of occasions that I "met" him, he gave a half-hearted lecture about whatever law I happened to be breaking, told me to knock it off, and go home. Believe me, I did. As nice as he was, I didn't want to risk dealing with the county...which would bring me to the attention of the sheriff.
I married into a family that was well-known for their orneriness and scrapes with "johnny law". For the most part, there weren't any major crimes, just small, ornery stuff. Think Dukes of Hazzard. Things that, in that era, were considered harmless fun, and made good stories to tell.

It wasn't until I became older that I found some respect for the po-lice. To appreciate the job they do, and the help they provide. It was grudging, but respect nonetheless. Cops always seem so official, and stuffy. I'd never "met" one outside of their job.

Then, I stumbled across Momma Fargo's blog. Not entirely sure it was something I'd care to read. But I gave it a shot. To my surprise, I found a real, live person behind that uniform! She has a sense of humor. A heart. Scary stuff. A drastic contrast to the picture I've always had of cops. Through reading her blog, I gained a better respect for police.

Now, when I see a cop, my feelings are a bit different. I don't have that, "oh gawd, now what?" feeling. I just see a person, doing their job. One that I would never sign up for, because I couldn't handle it. And, if it's a female, I smile.

Thanks so much to Dee for participating. She rocks! Go check her out. And...NO, I didn't even pay her for the kind words...LOL. She's a sweetheart. Her blogs are fun and lively...go be a part of that here and here.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Shitdazzle Repo Moment

I know, Dollface. I can't believe it, either. But he's a man. What do you expect?

ME: Big O. You aren't helping. I'm pissed as hell.

Sweetheart, we are only men. Men we are. It's all we can be. We forget things. Shitdazzle happens. You're beautiful.

ME: How can you forget to pay the bill? For two months? In a row? Can you imagine the smucks when they came into the yard and said...HEY LOOK..WE'RE REPO-ING THE SHERIFF'S GARBAGE DUMPSTER. I mean...the county vehicle is sitting right there in the yard. How EMBARASSING. I only give him one thing. ONE THING to pay. And he forgets. It's like it's my birthday or something. It's a fucking dumpster. He puts garbage in it everday. Probably fantasizes about putting me in it...in a black plastic bag...like all the time. How could you forget to pay the dumpster guys? It's 40 damn dollars a month.

It's like I tell ya, Love. We're only men. We make mistakes. We fuck up. We still love you. Give the guy a break. He boo-booed. Little teensy weensy omission. Drink some wine. It'll be better in the morning.

ME: But...Big O...dear...LOVE OF MY LIFE...they repo-ed the dumpster from the guy who's truck says... SHERIFF.. on it. In my yard. The dumpster got repo-ed by the garbage guys. From the police. Who are supposed to pay their bills. How would you like it if I repo-ed your dog dish, your dog food...your nice fluffy wuffy dog bed? Huh? How would you feel? What if Bug and I stopped petting you? Huh? What about that? What if I stopped kissing you on the forehead? It's the same thing. What if I made you make the 30 mile hike to the dump with our garbage? Huh? We could strap it on you like those St. Bernards and their barrel thingys. Are you starting to see the problem? Not to mention the embarassing repo moment?

Ok. Ok. You're right. We should hang our heads in shame. Fuck. We're such white trash. You're beautiful. Darling...could I have some of that wine you are drinking?

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Deadwood or Bust...It's Not About Sex!

No limp dicks or boobies here. Well...

I'm going to Limp Dick, South Dakota. Wah, wah, wah. (That's Deadwood). I'm giving a portion of my winnings to Monkey. I'm on a Monkey Mission.

This is a post about vices and unorthodox fund raising.

While I'm in Limp Dick...don't be one...help out Monkey. Just imagine if 1000 bloggers donated 1 dollar each. That's a thousand dollars. Think about our potential. We can work miracles through the internet network. I'm donating $100.00 cash and some raffle items...stole the money from Hubs' hunting fund. He doesn't know yet. Shhhh. Don't tell him.

Rob, steal, pillage...whatever you can do. Yes...I say rape the cats and pillage the rich women. If you can't afford anything...grab the button from Ian. Chat it up about Monkey on your blog.  Maybe one of your followers will click on it and donate. I'm the popo...I'm a broke pig. If I can do it...so can you. If someone donates a $1,000 as a single donation...I will send them my autographed stinky black combat popo boots with street grime from the hood and a junior police badge. I can even throw in a free ride-a-long with the popo bitch from hell...that's me. OK..the rides are always free...but if you're a felon...I can sneak you in. I'd do it for anyone's kid...but this one needs us now. Come one...hand over that dope money. I know you make at least 5 G a week.

If you are in a motorcycle gang...I know you support kid's charities.

Mafia...come on...make Uncle Sam think you are stellar. Put your bucks where the government would least expect it.

Average everyday law-abiding citizen...embrace the children. Put your ten bucks down and send some love to Michelle.

When it comes to children that need help...money has no color, race, gender, or any other differences. It's all green. It all helps.
Go give Michelle some love at http://www.mypixiedreams.com/.

Do it! Do it!

We've got to move it, move it!

And when I return...guaranteed the LIEU and I will have a lot of funny drunk, gambling, spa disaster, mani-pedi, winery ,cabana boy, pole dancing, streaking, hot tub farting, buffalo tipping, golfing, poker, historical fiasco stories to share...only I'll do the storytelling. He gets a little animated. We're going to have to keep him to a one scotch limit. Perhaps we'll get arrested...or not! We can run faster than them thar fat cops and their horses. If I zig and zag I can outrun a taser, too.

I'm off to the old west...hopefully...Kevin Kostner will be in his bar...I've got a few things to tell him. You can find us at The Midnight Star. Maybe not, his machines are wound too dang tight...that stingy bastid.  I'll be playing three card poker...somewhere...and during the day...spa treatments. The six guns are going with me. My antique sheriff badge is in my pocket...might come in handy. And James Bond's first car is in one of the hotels...might take her for a spin. I'll be back at high noon, pardners! Wah, wah, wah...Limp Dick will never be the same...not while the sheriff is in town.

Click on monkey to donate...please help!