So maybe I was too quick to write that last blissful little blog post there. I guess yesterday was a good day, but things are certainly not better. Amidst the torrents of crap swirling around me, most of which I’ll admit is a product of my overactive and underproductive brain synapses, I got a ticket for running a stop sign just outside my office today. There’s nothing like getting barked at by a motorcycle cop to give you one more reason to pack up all your stuff and move to Manhattan.
I honestly wonder what goes through these people’s minds while they’re hollering like Neanderthals. Is it something that you can turn on and off, or are you just born like that? Maybe there’s a giant class of 21st century cavemen out there, none of whom I’ve ever known personally (except one, sort of), that fill the world’s need for cops, gym teachers, and security guards. Are you a big dude that likes to yell a lot for no reason? You’re hired!
How do these people have families?
“SWEET HEART. YOU WILL GO TO THE STORE AND PURCHASE 3 12-OUNCE CANS OF PEAS!!!”
How do they spend a night out?
“LARGE POPCORN AND TWO MEDIUM COKES. YOU WILL GIVE ME EXTRA BUTTER!!!”
And most importantly, how’s the love life?
“YOU ARE SEXY. I WILL REMOVE YOUR CLOTHING NOW!!!”
What sucks about all this is that I couldn’t talk my way out of the ticket like the old days. I’m seriously slipping. I used to relish getting pulled over so I could practice my charming powers of persuasion under pressure. With this simple-minded soldier, I shouldn’t have even had to talk at all. But clearly, my eyelash-batting days are over. Good thing I’m moving to a place where no one gives a shit what you do with your eyelashes unless they plan to pound your face in.
I am further dismayed to report that this incident was the back-breaking straw that caused me to blatantly disregard one of my most hard-nosed, steadfast rules: Do not cry at work.
I cried at work.
Unfortunately, my tears were triggered after the cop had written the ticket. As he was writing the ticket, I tried to make light of the situation by calling a coworker and telling him to look out the window. I figured the camaraderie might help my spirits a bit. However, I received slightly more “camaraderie” than I was hoping for, as I learned that several more of my colleagues had joined my friend at the window.
Normally, I’d just continue goofing off, but I’m in a fragile state right now. I need to get the hell out of here.