So, in the two miles between my parent's house and my apartment I managed to get pulled over because I did TWO, not one, but TWO things wrong. It was stuff I know I technically should not be doing, especially not with a cop behind me, but did I listen to that little voice in my head? Um, hi, have we met? I'm Jennie. I make bad decisions.
Anyway. I didn't get a ticket or anything. Kindly Officer Flustered (seriously, I think I was the first person he ever pulled over . . . his face was all red and he almost dropped my license on the ground . . . the dirty, dirty, ground!) just told me that I had pulled too far into the pedestrian crossing at the red light and that when turning left I should turn DIRECTLY into the left lane instead of doing what I did, which was go directly to the right lane. Whatever. I almost asked him if he was really bored, because why else would he be pulling me over for doing something that people do every five seconds. But I didn't. Because he had already told me he wasn't going to give me a ticket. For once, my brain worked faster than my mouth. Seriously, though, if I was a cop and it was this hot out and I had to wear a long-sleeved POLYESTER UNIFORM, even if I saw someone in a Hummer flatten a kid on a tricycle as well as a family of ducks I'd just say fuck it and stay in my air conditioned car. But that's probably why I'm not a cop.
Afterward, I called my mom and she asked me, and I quote, "did you bat your baby blues at him?" No, mother, I did not and I cannot believe you'd suggest such a thing. I also did not flash him or offer him money or sexual favors. He wasn't that cute. Ha! I kid, I kid. My reaction this time was a lot different than the first time I ever got pulled over. I was 17 and I pulled to the side of the road and burst into tears. And did it get me out of a ticket? No, it did not.
I think my body must hate me. It is getting revenge for all of those mornings it has woken up with a headache and an acidy stomach and a mouth tasting of day old tequila. Why else would it have chosen the hottest week of the summer to give me BLINDINGLY PAINFUL cramps? Damn you, uterus.
Last night I practically died while watching The Daily Show. I should know better than to eat during that show. I choked on my pasta during a particularly funny bit but look at the bright side. At least I would have died laughing.