Cop was all...hot and gorgeous. He comes up to the car. I'm thinking, "Do I have a tail light out or something? Frisk me, I dare you. I don't mind, I got nothin. And you are kind of beautiful. For a cop."
No, I was talking on the phone. And rocking out to fucking Foreigner. Fucking $75 ticket for talking on the phone. Two blocks from home. Bullshit. I'm all different kinds of sober (like seriously...I haven't had a drink in four hours), not speeding, breaking zero traffic laws...fucking...LAME.
Sor. I'm extremely upset right now. I buy Heroes, and now I have a ticket. Hot Cop was all, "This isn't a moving violation, so it's not gonna go on your record, but don't you think in the long run it's cheaper to get a bluetooth? It's better than a bunch of these tickets. Luckily this is just a citation, you can get as many of these as you want. But next time, think about how important it is to talk on the phone when you're two blocks away from home."
Seriously? He wants me to voluntarily turn myself into a bluetooth douchebag?
He goes, "What's so important that you can't wait to get home?"
I don't even think about it. Kate, if you read this, I totally used you as an excuse. "My friend's house got hit by a tornado this weekend. She's a little upset."
And Hot Cop actually laughs at me. Laughs. "Where does she live?"
"Whoa, didn't they get hit a few years back?"
"Probably, but this time it was her house."
He laughs again. "Well, next time wait the last two blocks, okay?"
Now I don't even have an ID. He took my ID for a NON-MOVING VIOLATION. I have GermanFest, a show tomorrow, and a polo match on Saturday. How the hell am I going to do this? Lame.
On the bright side, me and MoLinder had an hour long 1950's sing-a-long at Diner Grill with fellow diners, a douche in a straw fedora, and Kenny the owner.