"I sometimes wish that people would put a little more emphasis upon the observance of the law than they do upon its enforcement." ~Calvin Coolidge

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Man, I'm gonna miss this stuff!

I realized the other day just how close I really am to leaving this job that I love so much. I heard a buddy of mine ask for 10-33 traffic, which means that only he is suppose to talk so that he can tell us what he has etc.. The situation was pretty serious, he was confronted with a loaded 380 by a known juvenile dope boy. The suspect took off running and of course the chase was on. I took a position on the outside perimeter as did a number of other officers. The air unit responded as well as K9 so we had the guy pinned in. We knew he was ours for the taking. I have to give the ol boy props he led us on a good foot chase for over 45 minutes running from one apartment complex to the next eventually settling into a large buy here - pay here car lot.

I was patient on the post that I was at knowing that if everybody starts moving from their spot it could mean an easy escape route for our lil dope dealing, gun toting rabbit. The air unit calls my unit number telling me to adjust my position a little further south so I did. That was a great idea because not 5 minutes later I hear another friend of mine yelling that he was running south towards the front of the perimeter. My old ass was getting excited cause he is headed straight to me. All of a sudden I see him running like a gazelle, eyes the size of saucers with my buddy right behind him taser in hand. I start to get closer and I see the red dot pointed at his back. I hear the wonderful sound of the taser being deployed and I see our suspect prone out in mid air screaming like he just got shot with a bazooka. The suspect does a face plant, sliding about 5 feet in the dirt. The wave of blue was phenomenal. Suspect in custody.

After much high fiving, back patting and bragging we called rescue as is standard when someone gets tased. They gave us their blessing that he would live to run again from the police. Now medically cleared, I decide it is time to start the “walk of shame”.

With about 3 weeks to go before I leave I decided that we were going to provide the on-lookers in the dope infested apartment complex a little show and hopefully make a point. I told my boys to stand him outside the car and start walking towards their cars that were parked a good 300 yards from the apprehension. They started walking and I got on my P.A. system and said the following, “Ladies and Gentleman this is what happens when you run from the police. You will be caught, handcuffed, spanked a little in taser form and completely humiliated. If this is your dope boy, you will not be getting dope from him tonight so you better call your other dope boy Pookie to get your fix. Thank You for your cooperation!” Everybody was about to fall out laughing including the on-lookers. One of my boys said, “Only you could do that! What do you care, you’re leaving in couple weeks.” I smiled, laughed a little and cried a little inside as well, cause I am really going to miss this stuff.

I'm Out And We'll Talk Later!

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Silly Sunday

Well, it’s “Silly Sunday” time again. Good grief, where did this week go? Time has literally seemed to speed up as my retirement date approaches.

To recap Silly Sunday, each Sunday I will post a funny article, story, joke etc. If you would like to participate, send me your funny or feel free to share it in the comments. If you email it to me I will post it (assuming it’s not sexually explicit or crammed with obscenities) along with a link to your blog so folks can take a look at your work.

This weeks submission was sent in by someone near and dear to my heart, my best friend and closest confidant, Aza- over at Surreptitious Psychosis. However, her and my adopted dad, better known as just “Dad” around here, also sent in a submission. After reading it aloud and laughing her head off Aza insisted I post his and with good reason, it’s hilarious. She (and Dad) also insisted I go get a colonoscopy "posthaste". Thanks for the submission, Dad!


A journey into my colon -- and yours
by Dave Barry

OK. You turned 50. You know you’re supposed to get a colonoscopy. But you haven’t. Here are your reasons:

1. You’ve been busy.
2. You don’t have a history of cancer in your family.
3. You haven’t noticed any problems.
4. You don’t want a doctor to stick a tube 17,000 feet up your butt.

Let’s examine these reasons one at a time. No, wait, let’s not. Because you and I both know that the only real reason is No. 4. This is natural. The idea of having another human, even a medical human, becoming deeply involved in what is technically known as your ‘’behindular zone’’ gives you the creeping willies.

I know this because I am like you, except worse. I yield to nobody in the field of being a pathetic weenie medical coward. I become faint and nauseous during even very minor medical procedures, such as making an appointment by phone. It’s much worse when I come into physical contact with the medical profession. More than one doctor’s office has a dent in the floor caused by my forehead striking it seconds after I got a shot.

In 1997, when I turned 50, everybody told me I should get a colonoscopy. I agreed that I definitely should, but not right away. By following this policy, I reached age 55 without having had a colonoscopy. Then I did something so pathetic and embarrassing that I am frankly ashamed to tell you about it.

What happened was, a giant 40-foot replica of a human colon came to Miami Beach. Really. It’s an educational exhibit called the Colossal Colon, and it was on a nationwide tour to promote awareness of colo-rectal cancer. The idea is, you crawl through the Colossal Colon, and you encounter various educational items in there, such as polyps, cancer and hemorrhoids the size of regulation volleyballs, and you go, ‘’Whoa, I better find out if I contain any of these things,’’ and you get a colonoscopy.

If you are a professional humor writer, and there is a giant colon within a 200-mile radius, you are legally obligated to go see it. So I went to Miami Beach and crawled through the Colossal Colon. I wrote a column about it, making tasteless colon jokes. But I also urged everyone to get a colonoscopy. I even, when I emerged from the Colossal Colon, signed a pledge stating that I would get one.

But I didn’t get one. I was a fraud, a hypocrite, a liar. I was practically a member of Congress.

Five more years passed. I turned 60, and I still hadn’t gotten a colonoscopy. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I got an e-mail from my brother Sam, who is 10 years younger than I am, but more mature. The email was addressed to me and my middle brother, Phil. It said:

"Dear Brothers, I went in for a routine colonoscopy and got the dreaded diagnosis: cancer. We’re told it’s early and that there is a good prognosis that they can get it all out, so, fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that. And of course they told me to tell my siblings to get screened. I imagine you both have.”

Um. Well.

First I called Sam. He was hopeful, but scared. We talked for a while, and when we hung up, I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis. Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn’t really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, “HE’S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BUTT!

I left Andy’s office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called "MoviPrep," which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America’s enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn’t eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor

Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes -- and here I am being kind -- like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, “a loose watery bowel movement may result.” This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don’t want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, "What if I spurt on Andy?" How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the hell the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn’t thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was Dancing Queen by Abba. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, Dancing Queen has to be the least appropriate.

"You want me to turn it up?" said Andy, from somewhere behind me.

"Ha ha," I said.

And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, Abba was shrieking "Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from the tambourine . . ." and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

But my point is this: In addition to being a pathetic medical weenie, I was a complete moron. For more than a decade I avoided getting a procedure that was, essentially, nothing. There was no pain and, except for the MoviPrep, no discomfort. I was risking my life for nothing.

If my brother Sam had been as stupid as I was -- if, when he turned 50, he had ignored all the medical advice and avoided getting screened -- he still would have had cancer. He just wouldn’t have known. And by the time he did know -- by the time he felt symptoms -- his situation would have been much, much more serious. But because he was a grown-up, the doctors caught the cancer early, and they operated and took it out. Sam is now recovering and eating what he describes as “really, really boring food.” His prognosis is good, and everybody is optimistic, fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that.

Which brings us to you, Mr. or Mrs. or Miss or Ms. Over-50-And-Hasn’t-Had-a-Colonoscopy. Here’s the deal: You either have colo-rectal cancer, or you don’t. If you do, a colonoscopy will enable doctors to find it and do something about it. And if you don’t have cancer, believe me, it’s very reassuring to know you don’t. There is no sane reason for you not to have it done.

I am so eager for you to do this that I am going to induce you with an Exclusive Limited Time Offer. If you, after reading this, get colonoscopy, let me know by sending a self-addressed stamped envelope to Dave Barry Colonoscopy Inducement, The Miami Herald, 1 Herald Plaza, Miami, FL 33132. I will send you back a certificate, signed by me and suitable for framing if you don’t mind framing a cheesy certificate, stating that you are a grown-up who got a colonoscopy. Accompanying this certificate will be a square of limited-edition custom-printed toilet paper with an image of Miss Paris Hilton on it. You may frame this also, or use it in whatever other way you deem fit.

But even if you don’t want this inducement, please get a colonoscopy. If I can do it, you can do it. Don’t put it off. Just do it. Be sure to stress that you want the non-Abba version.


I'm Out And We'll Talk Later!

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Just a thought

Sometimes we get so busy in our daily lives that we don’t take the time to look around and see when people that we know are going through trials and tribulations. I have certainly been going through some of that myself as you know, but so has everybody else. When we go through these times we often feel like know one else is going through what we are and even if they’ve been there or are there, it was/is no way as bad as what we’re experiencing. But really, that couldn’t be the farther from the truth. There is always somebody else that is going through something just as bad and in some cases even worse. I do know that all things pass in time, situations will tend to fade, pain eases and life gets easier.

Many people handle situations that come up in very different ways. I’ve noticed in my profession many are apt to ‘suffer in silence’, for a lot of us it’s just part of the job. I for one like to have friends and family close by so that I can keep my mind busy with conversation etc. However, I sometimes tend to get quiet depending on what type of situation I may be dealing with. So I guess what I am trying to say is keep an eye out for people that you care about. Don’t get wrapped up in your own situation so much that you tune everybody else out, making them feel that they are not important in your life. Both Aza and her dad have a sixth sense, they can just tell or feel when something isn’t right so they will call me just to check on me. Of course sure enough something has happened so I will tell her or her dad about it which makes me feel better, especially knowing that I have somebody that cares enough about me to take time out of their busy day just to see what’s going on.

So in closing, call somebody today, drop a card in the mail, e-mail a friend or family member that you haven’t seen or heard from in awhile just to let them know that you are thinking about them. If that’s not possible, sit for a moment and offer some positive energy or a prayer. Remember the old saying “a burden shared”? It doesn’t matter if you have never met this person face to face. I have never met some of you but have found myself offering a prayer after reading about your trial. We may be strangers but there is a human connection that transcends the miles between all of us. During dinner prayer last week Aza mentioned a woman that she met through blogging. She doesn't know her real name and has never met her in real life but she knew that she was in the hospital. I think if you will do this it will make you feel pretty good about yourself and if it doesn’t then it might be time to do a little soul searching.

I’m Out And We’ll Talk Later!

Monday, May 19, 2008

It's all green, baby!

I have always been a very athletic person playing baseball, basketball, softball and golf all of my life. Of course as I’ve aged some of these activities have gotten a little harder to play, but I have always enjoyed playing golf. It’s the game you love to hate in my opinion. When I was with Ms. Ed I occasionally played golf with my co-workers but it just wasn’t the same as it was before I married her when I was out there mainly because I was never comfortable. If any of you have ever played golf you will know what I am talking about, you have to be focused with no problems going on in your life to play at your best and really enjoy yourself. Unfortunately that just never seemed to be the case. Now I am not saying every time I played something was going on with us, but the majority of the time it was. Frequently she would start some kind of b.s. argument and it always seemed like it was when I was scheduled to play the next day or that afternoon. I knew it was getting bad when I went to play with the boys and she called every 10 minutes questioning where I was and who I was with. I was married to my phone and quite frankly it was incredibly embarrassing that at my age I was being treated like a child. Seriously, I would be on the course, she would call, she’d hear us playing golf- hell, I could even send her a picture with my cell and she’d still think I was up to no good! I honestly did not deserve to be dealt with in that regard because I never gave her any reason to question my faithfulness to her or to my family. I just simply wanted to enjoy some fun with my friends/co-workers and enjoy the game.

I had not played in close to a year since all this divorce crap came up. Plus, she wouldn’t give me my stuff which included my golf clubs until ordered to do so just a few months back. When I got my clubs which were very expensive {Callaway} I noticed that I was missing my 7 iron. What in the hell would she possibly want with my 7 iron? Needless to say, I was not happy but thankful that at least I had my clubs. Aza kept insisting that I go play with my buddy and I kept saying no simply because I really didn’t have the money. I gave in the other day playing with my Sgt and his dad. I really had no expectations because I knew it was probably gonna be pretty ugly. When I was playing regularly I was shooting mid 80’s pretty consistently, so I knew it would higher than that with such a long hiatus. I felt good though so I thought just maybe I would have a good day. We teed off around 9:30am, it was a gorgeous unseasonably cool day and my golf game was phenomenal for not playing in a year! I hit the ball the best I have hit it in a long time. I was crushing the ball averaging drives of about 250 to 275 the longest being 291 yards. Needless to say, I was very happy and the end score was 89. I called Aza and was so excited.

So my next game is scheduled for tomorrow and I can’t wait! Aza is coming over in the morning to wait on a UPS delivery for me while I hit the green. I’m finally at ease and relaxed with myself, the people around me and my situation.

I attribute this to being extremely happy with my life, even though I am leaving a job that I love in about 4 weeks and still attempting to weather this divorce. I was talking about it with Aza telling her that I was so relaxed and comfortable while on the course last time. Not having to worry about my phone blowing up, what kind of crap she was going to start, what kind of accusations would be made or what was going on with her wondering what the hell I was doing or who I was with was so incredibly refreshing. I told Aza that I had the best time because I was just so relaxed. I have to tell you that I completely give Aza all the credit for this. If it wasn’t for her and her family I just don’t know where I would be. She has made life fun again, now I don’t worry about anything except taking care of my animals, which now includes baby chickens (I will get around to that story sooner or later, and maybe a few pics), figuring out what kind of fun we are going to get into and what project we’re going to start next. We have the best times together and I‘m finally genuinely happy; what more could I possibly ask for? Well, maybe my 7 iron !!!

I’m Out And We’ll Talk Later!

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Silly Sunday

Welcome to another installment of “Silly Sunday”!

To recap Silly Sunday, each Sunday I will post a funny article, story, joke etc. If you would like to participate, send me your funny or feel free to share it in the comments. If you email it to me I will post it (assuming it’s not sexually explicit or crammed with obscenities) along with a link to your blog so folks can take a look at your work.

This weeks submission was sent in by Old NFO who is retired Navy over at Nobody Asked Me…. Thank you for your service to our country, sir and thanks for the submission!


Ten Reasons Men Prefer Guns Over Women....

#10. You can trade an old .44 for a new .22.

#9. You can keep one gun at home and have another for when you're on the road.

#8. If you admire a friend's gun and tell him so, he will probably let you try it out a few times.

#7. Your primary gun doesn't mind if you keep another gun for a backup.

#6. Your gun will stay with you even if you run out of ammo.

#5. A gun doesn't take up a lot of closet space.

#4. Guns function normally every day of the month.

#3. A gun doesn't ask, 'Do these new grips make me look fat' ? ?

#2. A gun doesn't mind if you go to sleep after you use it.


I’m Out And We’ll Talk Later!

Saturday, May 17, 2008

My latest rant

I have been so busy lately that I didn’t realize how long its been since I posted.

Now to my latest rant. I was with Aza at Wal-Mart a few nights ago and wow did I find something to post about.

We had to get a few things for her family as well as a few things for me. Of course it’s Friday and every low income dirt bag on welfare is there to get their government cheese. Let me make it clear that when I say “low income”, I mean low income by choice, not by circumstance.

Note to those unfamiliar with “EBT” and “WIC“: An EBT or Electronic Benefit Transfer card is an electronic system that allows state governments to provide benefits to authorized recipients via a plastic debit card. Common benefits provided via EBT are typically sorted into two general categories: Food Stamp and Cash benefits. Food stamp benefits are federally authorized benefits that can be used only to purchase food. Cash benefits include State General Assistance, TANF (Temporary Aid for Needy Families) benefits and refugee benefits.

EBT should not be confused with WIC also know as “Special Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants and Children“. WIC is a federal assistance program for the healthcare and nutrition of low-income pregnant women, breastfeeding women, infants and children under the age of five. The eligibility requirement is a family income below 185% of the U.S. Poverty Income Guidelines. If a person who participates in other benefit programs, or has family members who participate in the Food Stamp Program, Medicaid, or Temporary Assistance for Needy Families, they automatically meet the eligibility requirements.

So, this young couple was in front of us with 2 carts absolutely loaded with high dollar food items and EBT card in hand. I saw a newborn baby in the cart as well as a toddler which was probably 4. I watched as they unloaded 2 carts worth of brand name everything, tons of junk food, the best cuts of meat, T-bone steaks, chicken, and yes London Broil. I looked at Aza, shook my head and just had to laugh. The young couple was decked out, she had a designer outfit on that included a very large diamond ring with matching earrings. She also had several tattoos all over which as I am finding out are not cheap. I looked at her man, he had a throw back jersey on with a very expensive pair of shorts and was also wearing Air Jordan tennis shoes that I know cost over $100.00 dollars. Meanwhile I have to budget my $25.00 dollar sneakers. He had a long silver necklace around his neck that hung down to his waist with tattoos all over his body too. He also was flashing some high dollar jewelry which included an upper and lower gold plated grill cover for the chicklets in his mouth. Once again all I could do was shake my head in disbelief.

So while we had to put back several things that we would love to have had because we just couldn’t afford it, we waited for Slim Shady and Cher to unload their items that the taxes coming out of our paychecks were paying for. It took forever because they had so much stuff. I noticed that they unloaded at least 8, yes 8 or more cans of the very expensive Simalac. Meanwhile the woman behind us paying hard earned cash was buying Wal-Mart brand baby formula. We just had to wait simple as that, so we did in utter disgust.

We both work so hard to just survive, to pay our mortgages, food bills, vet bills, gasoline and whatever other little emergency may pop up, while these people unload $500.00 dollars worth of groceries and then take them to their government housing apartment where they pay no rent. I finally had enough and told Aza I needed to leave before I got myself in trouble for voicing my opinion. Aza agreed since I was in uniform.

Aza called me about an hour later completely exhausted. “It’s getting to a point where I just can’t stand going there or to the grocery store anymore” she said. Understandably so! She was very upset, especially when she was loading our groceries into her car and saw them drive off in their brand new car.

What the hell is our government thinking!!!! This makes me mad as hell! These programs were meant as a hand up, not a hand out! We struggle to get by with the bare essentials in life while these “people” sit back and live well off of our hard labor. So not only are we expected to pay for our own families, ever rising gas and grocery bills we’re also expected to pay for theirs too!

Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not ripping on families in legitimate need here. God knows I deal with and pray for enough poverty stricken, hard working men and women daily who don‘t use these programs because they‘re too proud. I’m all for legitimate disability benefits, the WIC program and welfare on a temporary basis, which is what it was meant to be. But these programs are being horribly abused and they are being given to the lazy not the needy!

So in summary, “Work harder, millions abusing welfare are depending on you!”

I’m Out And We’ll Talk Later!

Friday, May 16, 2008

I’m still here…

I’ll be posting an update soon. Divorce issues, chickens (long story), retirement preparations, work, family and life in general have had me running like mad.

I’m Out And We’ll Talk Later! (soon)

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Silly Sunday

Welcome to this weeks installment of “Silly Sunday”! I had every intention of posting earlier in the week but I’ve been incredibly busy.

To recap Silly Sunday, each Sunday I will post a funny article, story, joke etc. If you would like to participate, send me your funny or feel free to share it in the comments. If you email it to me I will post it (assuming it’s not sexually explicit or crammed with obscenities) along with a link to your blog so folks can take a look at your work.

So without further ado, this weeks submission was sent in from Lagniappe’s Lair, another great LEO blog! Thanks for the submission!


The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.

Here are this year's winners. Read them carefully. Each is an artificial word with only one letter altered to form a real word. Some are terrifically innovative:

1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

3. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

4. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.

5 . Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

6. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

7. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

8. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.

9. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

10. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's, like, a serious bummer.

11. Decafalon (n.): The gruelling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

12. Glibido: All talk and no action.

13. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

14. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

15. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

16. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.

And the #1 pick:

17. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an *******.

I’m Out And We’ll Talk Later!

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Silly Sunday

Since starting my blog Aza’s Dad has shared with me a lot of funny articles and jokes, some of which I’ve posted here. Aza and I thought it would be a good idea to start a weekly installment here on Glock N’ Cuffs called “Silly Sunday” so I could share them with you. Please note: I have no concept of “PC”. So here’s what we are going to do; each Sunday I will post a funny article, story, joke etc. If you would like to participate, send me your funny or feel free to share it in the comments. If you email it to me I will post it (assuming it’s not sexually explicit or crammed with obscenities) along with a link to your blog so folks can take a look at your work.

Hopefully this will start your work week out with a guffaw.

I am going to start it with something that I think you will enjoy courtesy of Aza’s dad…

Top 10 reasons why there are no thug NASCAR drivers:

# 10 - Have to sit upright while driving.

# 9 - Pistol won't stay under front seat.

# 8 - Engine noise drowns out the rap music.

# 7 - Pit crew can't work on car while holding up pants at the same time.

# 6 - They keep trying to carjack Dale Earnhardt Jr.

# 5 - Police cars on track interfere with race.

# 4 - No passenger seat for the Ho.

# 3 - No Cadillacs approved for competition.

# 2 - When they crash their cars, they bail out & run.


#1 -They can't wear their helmets sideways.

I’m Out And We’ll Talk Later!

Friday, May 2, 2008

Happy Birthday, mom and Learning to relax

It’s that time of the year when we celebrate our mother’s for taking care of us and wiping our dirty lil hiney’s when we were little. For me and I am sure I’m not alone, it’s bitter sweet. May 1st my mother was born in the year 1922. She was the sweetest most loving woman that I have ever known. I was a very lucky man because God chose me to be born to such an amazing woman. I have so many wonderful memories that I can look back on so I am fortunate and very thankful.

I miss my mother very much so yesterday being her birthday was very emotional for me. I don’t think that people realize what their parents mean to them until they’re gone. I always tell young people that the worst day in your entire life will be the day that your mom and dad pass away. It is so true, I miss them both very much.

One thing that always hurt my feelings when I was with Mrs. Ed was she never went to the cemetery with me to visit my parents and just be supportive. While I know that she cared about my mother, I thought she cared enough about me to support me when I needed to go spend time with my mom and dad at their resting place, but I guess not. When Aza learned about how close I was with both my parents she asked to see where they were laid to rest. I took her there and I could feel the genuine concern and heart felt pain she felt because she knew it was really hard for me. I can tell you on a number of occasions I have called her to see what she was doing and she told me that she had just left my parents gravesite. That in itself shows you what kind of woman she is. I don’t say anything about birthdays or anniversaries and when I do she has already bought flowers. She calls me telling me we need to go and put these flowers on your mom and dad’s grave. That’s exactly what she did yesterday. It’s just another reason why I love that girl. Thanks Aza for being so many things to me and for picking up the ball that so many people have dropped. I love You.

In other news, I have been so busy with just the everyday stresses of life that I haven’t taken time to sit back and smell the roses. I honestly didn’t realize how much stress that I was under daily when I was with Mrs. Ed. I was talking to Aza the other day telling her what my life was like and she was amazed. Now that I think about it, I‘m pretty amazed myself! I worked my butt off to provide a life for those people that they never had. The thanks I got was literally a slap in the face. Yeah, you read it right, Mrs. Ed slapped me in my face because of her anger issues. She needs to be medicated but that’s a whole other story. It’s really sad when people have such issues with previous relationships that they allow it to spill over into new relationships. Such was the case with Mrs. Ed. This Woman was married to 5 different men. Each relationship ended up the same way DIVORCE! The bell should have been ringing loud and clear but it didn’t. I can tell you that bell is ringing it’s ass off now. I essentially paid for every sin that each of her ex- husbands committed. I have never in my life been questioned, interrogated and put under the microscope as much as I was with her. It is a miserable life to live when you are with somebody like that.

Now, I feel great! I can't remember a time in all of my 48 years of living when I felt better about myself and just the simple things in life. I am able to enjoy my days and nights without worrying about being called and interrogated about what I was doing or who I’ve talked to during my shift. Without living in a constant state of nausea. I’m sure that there are some that would say, “Well, I bet she had a reason.” Heh, those that would say it don’t know me very well and probably have the same issues that she did. I can tell you in complete honesty, she had no reason what so ever. Because she would never get help for all her past relationships I paid for it. I am here to declare, never again! I love waking up everyday now. The only thing that I worry about now is getting my animals fed. I have a wonderful friendship with Aza and her family. I've been able to renew friendships with my FTO as well as many others (some of which I grew up with) that had been put on a back burner. It boiled down to, if they weren't her friends (partiers and drinkers) they weren't acceptable. The people I surround myself with are laid back and enjoy the same things I do in life. I spend a lot of time with Aza and her family just hanging out, riding the motorcycle, cooking out etc. I love spending time with them. Those of you that think you can’t have a girl for a best friend, think again! We are the very best of friends and I am having the time of my life!

Yeah, I know, I brag a lot about Aza. She really is my best friend so just get over it. hahaha!

I sat down the other day and realized that I have 29 working days left until I retire! I really can not believe that I am leaving. It is a very scary feeling but I know that I will be just fine. I have some things planned, I know that I am going to take at least a month off to just relax and get my head straight. I actually put in an application for a neighboring department last week. That was really strange, I am going to be a rookie again! I am at the point with my department now that I can pretty much do whatever I want. Now I know you’re probably raising an eyebrow but what I mean is I just don’t get bothered by the rank and file. I am treated like a supervisor simply because of my time in service. So it is going to be a big shock when I start with this other agency. I will be a 48 year old rookie, my FTO will be 25 years old. Shoot, I got underwear older than that! I am sure that I will adjust. I will keep you posted on the whole process.

So in closing, life is way too short to be unhappy. Sit back and take time for yourself. Hopefully you wont ever have to go through what I am going through with this whole divorce, but if you do I hope that you have friends like I have that will love you for just being you.

I’m Out And We’ll Talk Later!