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Coming home from teaching orphans how to teach drums I was stopped by a cop, and given a ticket for speeding.
"I was over at the Dairy Queen monitoring traffic and clocked you in at 50 miles per hour. The speed limit is 40. What were you doing going that fast?"
Minding my own business. What were you doing? Eating a DQ Blast?
So he hands me the yellow ticket and I say nothing. But as I pull off I make sure to go 5 miles an hour because he's tailing me.
Is that fucking slow enough? Huh? You prick. Fucking DQ Blast Jackass.
Then he turns left to go back to eating dipping dots and I go my way. But I turn around. I decided I wasn't going to let it go. I wasn't going to just shrug it off. So I pull up right next to him in the DQ parking lot. I mean right next to him. Now I don't go as far as to pull in the opposite way, like in cop dramas where two officers talk undercover - although I'm sure he'd love that since all the drama he gets is writing tickets and eating Dairy Queens. I pretend to be talking on my cell phone and I pretend, I guess, that the person I'm talking to is hard of hearing. Oh, and I also have a triple decker DQ Riot Surprise in my left hand, just eating my dessert talking some shit.
I know, like he has nothing better to do... No, that's exactly my point. And that he's a faggot... Right, Dairy Queen... No, no I get it. He says I was going 50... Yeah 50. I could be out doing lines of coke off his wife's fat face, but instead I'm going 50 miles per hour. Just minding my own business. You know what really pisses me off Jergis (that's the name I came up with on the spot), if this were the interstate, I'd be going under the speed limit. Think about that... I'm not telling you what that means... Prick. Here I am minding my goddamn business, just trying to uphold the law, you know, not robbing banks, not fucking up cops with my big black bat, and little do I know but some Rat Prick is monitoring traffic jacking off a DQ Blast... Can I see your license? How about I see you license? That's what I should have said.

At this point, well the whole time I could see he was getting pissed, continuously looking over - being really obvious about it. But at this point in my tirade he gets out of the car. At the exact moment he gets to my window, like what the hell's he gonna do anyway? but at that exact moment - I say: I'm sick of this chocolate stack, and throw it out the window. It lands right on his left shoe. And then gently collapses on to his right. I drive off as he looks down...

Going 2000 miles per hour.

PEACE!

I took a survey which allowed me to say my piece for an upcoming new uniform. I got to pick. You understand? When the survey asked me my age bracket I went to put 18-24. How sad. I could be out scoring all kinds of chicks. Having boners. Getting laid all over the burgh. Down by the Point. In the Sa Side. In Sliberty. But no I have to be in the 25 - 34 bracket. Married to my little wife. O god.

na na nana na...

I heard this song at work yesterday:

It never played before and I was immediately happy because its from Donnie Darko - the long montage at school that ends with the dance routine - and also because I like the song. And for another reason it made me extra happy. That reason being the burgeoning of summer. And, most importantly, summer nights. Donnie Darko always reminds me of a summer night. Listen to this with your lover and remember how it once was.