Tuesday, April 27

Officer "Perky" rides again!

I had quite a harrowing experience this last weekend y'all! I was driving home after some dancing and drinking with a friend up in Maryland. She invited me to crash at her place just outside of D.C., but I always prefer to wake up in my own bed. As I was cruising down the highway through Northern Virginia at about 1:30 in the morning I started to get hungry! So I pulled off a random highway exit, and of course nothing was open. As I tried to find my way back to the highway, and while checking my replies on Twitter , I suddenly noticed that I was being pulled over by a damn cop!

Normally in this situation I'd look for an out, like not stopping the car until I passed over into the next county, but there was no such opportunity here. The best I could do was spray a bunch of fake Drakkar Noir air freshener to cover up the smell of weed and all the beer I'd spilled on my crotch at the bar. I finally came to a stop at a particularly unsafe spot in the road.

I quickly applied some horny-looking lip gloss. The cop appeared next to the car and started talking before I could even get my window rolled down. I couldn't peg this guy at first glance, because he wasn't young enough to be a prick, but also not old or ugly enough to accept a traditional booty bribe. He asked me to please turn down the volume of my Ke$ha album, and stop trying to light the wrong end of my cigarette. That's when I knew I was dealing with a total jerkface.

At his request I slowly and deliberately retrieved my license and registration from my purse (and I mean SLOWLY, cause I wasn't trying to get my taze on!). But I did let my emotions get the better of me, because as I was collecting these items I was calling him names and asking if he didn't have anything better to do, and also informing him that I didn't do nothing.

The officer took my stuff back to his car for what seemed like a really long time. Thankfully I have a clean record because I never get caught for anything. To keep it that way I had to take inventory of my situation. I had a handful of crushed Adderall in an envelope in the middle console, and I certainly didn't want to get caught with that, so I snorted it all up lickedy-split. Then I remembered the bottle of Jack Daniels under my seat.

Before he got a chance to finish what he was doing in his car I jumped out of my car's driver side door and stood there glaring. The loudspeaker came on, "Miss, get back in your vehicle!". I quickly unscrewed the cap from the booze and chugged about half of it. Now he'd never be able to prove that I'd been drunk before he pulled me over! Then I set the bottle on the ground, leaned up against a my car, and cross my arms like I was hot shit.

The officer slowly stepped out of his car and stalked over with a scary look in his eye and the smile of a man possessed. That's when his walkie-talkie went off with some emergency "Attention all units!" bullshit. He listened for a second more, then cut the volume down. "Looks like it's your lucky night, you fucking low-life. Try not to kill anybody, and don't you ever let me catch you around here again!". He threw my license and registration at my feet and walked briskly back to his car. Then he cut his sirens on and took off.

I drove home feeling pretty good about myself. My clean record stands, and I discovered that I had a nice fat joint in my cigarette pack to smoke on the ride home. You know how it is with weed and booze sometimes! I was so damn tired that I could barely keep my eyes open. The next thing I was started awake while driving 40mph down the wrong side of a road with both left tires in a drainage ditch! I was able to pull back onto the road, but when I got home all the grass and shit from the edge of the ditch was stuck up under my muffler and catalytic converter, and some of it was on fire! I threw a bunch of rocks and sand from our driveway at it until the fire went out. You know, that cop wasn't kidding. It really was my lucky night!


Monday, April 12

Backstage bound!

I was brought up to appreciate a good rock concert. I had a wild older cousin named Lazarus who used to take me to all kinds of shows before he died. He said it was important for my education. We'd go to see the heaviest bands, and scam drugs in the shadiest parking lots. I was young and timid at my first few shows. Then I got the hang of it! Now I thrash out with my fuckin' rash out, and it's just about the best release I've ever known!

I decided it was time to teach my daughter the ways, so I treated us to a recent concert at one of Richmond's hottest venues. It was some sort of indie rock band, which sounds really lame, but at least it's rock. Y'all remember rock? It was that shit we used to get pregnant to before rap showed up and took over as the official soundtrack of teenage sex and not pulling out like a gentleman. But I digress.

Darla wasn't sure how to dress because she didn't know the band either, but I knew what to do. When it comes to concerts you can never go wrong with sleazy high heels and slutty ripped jeans, fishnet accents, and no bra. We got to the show about the time the openers were done, so there was a 20 minute window to meet the band early. I tried to convince Darla to help me blow these two bouncers at the side entrance to get us backstage, but she helpfully pointed out that they were actually just a couple of overweight dudes waiting for a bus.

After getting our tickets at will call, having our purses checked, and swallowing a sleeve of crushed amphetamines in the bathroom, we were just in time to see the headliners. The view from the back was boring, so it was time to enlighten my daughter on another fine point of rock concert theory: Reaching the front row at all costs.

Once you weave through the first few layers of people who seem to need their own personal space, you start to find yourself in a rather impermeable concentration of people. Dudes will widen their stance or stiffen up to block you out if you're all "'scuse me...'scuse me", so forget that noise. Don't say a word until you're ready to make your move. Then punch whichever elbow is attached to their drink hand, and when they turn to look you just slide around the other side of 'em.

At around the fourth row we came upon a group of real hard asses. These kids didn't have drinks or anything, but they weren't about to move for anyone. The show started so we had to lay low for a bit. I held up my cell phone and filmed the performance of the first two songs for my blog, but I won't post it because the video came out like shit. Then I really needed a cigarette, so I smoked it secretly by cupping it inside of my hand, and blowing all the smoke into the full, curly hair of the girl in front of me.

The crowd got really excited when they heard the intro to the next song, so I used the distraction to slip the air horn out from the large make-up bag in my purse. Then I started blaring it into my armpit where no body could see each time the singer sang the chorus. As the bouncers moved in from the front I slipped the horn into the tote-style purse that the girl in front of me was carrying, and I began pointing at her from behind. She and her friend were carried off, and me and Darla were in the third row! And with the use of proper timing and clumsy dancing we quickly made it up to the front!

What's so important about being in the front row, you ask? Well you never know, you might end up like Courtney Cox or something! In fact, Darla got invited back stage herself, and she brought me along because I was her ride! Unfortunately I had to sit outside the lounge on a folding chair while listening to three roadies gangbang my daughter in the next room. It was silly if you ask me! Don't they know about the pleasures that only a freaky groupie cougar-milf can bring?!


Thursday, April 1

Funny bunny!

When I need a break from the distractions of life, I simply take some time to get in touch with my spirituality. I usually do this by dropping acid and walking around in public places. This activity allows me to see things as they are, without the oppression of my conscious mind. So last year, on Easter Sunday, I woke up early and dropped five hits of LSD. Then I drove out to Maymont Park, which I thought would be quiet for the holiday.

Well as it turns out, everybody goes to Maymont on Easter, and they bring their kids. There's Easter egg hunts and everything. It seemed like a bit too much of a crowd for the state I was in, but at least they were all in a good mood. I began to feel pretty weird, so I wandered to the safety of the "bamboo forest" area and snuck around through the tall bamboo.

I lost my bearings a bit in there, but felt pretty safe. It was quiet. I took out my one-hitter and took a had a nice fat hit of some weed to smooth things over. As I finished my exhale a fast moving Vietnamese family of four came hiking through a side trail and right through my smoke. Why does weird stuff like that always happen when you're tripping? We may never know.

Although my stomach felt dull and numb I sensed that I had to pee. This was bad, because the bathrooms at Maymont can be weird. They're these small, echoey out-buildings. Most of the light is coming from the opened rectangle windows along the top of the walls. This creates an refraction of light and outside sounds that can be dangerous to the psychologically sensitive. I decided to focus and just get it over with.

I kept my head down, hurried into a stall, and did my business. Knowing the danger, I glanced quickly at the mirror on my way back out. I couldn't help but notice that I had a long diagonal pen mark across my neck. I decided to try to get it off with some wet paper towel. Ten minutes later I'm walking back out of the restroom with part of my neck rubbed red raw and water all over my messed up shirt collar. Stupid mirrors! They always get me!

I wandered around the back of one of the maintenance buildings and sat down to get some peace. That's when, out of nowhere, the cutest little calico bunny appeared around the other side by some bushes. I stayed still as he casually hopped over. I held out some tender grass for him to eat, and before I knew it I was holding him, eyes shut, fully in tune. I have no idea how long this went on.

My trance was broken by a screaming girl, followed by a boy, both of whom had discovered me and my bunny. I looked down and the stupid thing was lifeless in my arms, eyes all bugged out. Apparently it was extremely diseased or something because it's neck was all bloated and wormy looking. I guess that would explain it's unexpected friendliness. I jumped up, tossed it's body into one of the kid's little baskets, and calmly walked away toward the exit of the park.

At first I put the whole experience down to just being a bad trip. But now that I've examined that day further, I realize that I learned something. I learned that the conscious mind is there for a reason, and it's best not to leave it unguarded. That's why I get shitfaced each night before bed. It keeps me from having any more realistic dreams about that fucking rabbit.