☆♠¤°º ★♪ † ☠ ♥ ☆jill_havok☆ ♥ ☠ † ♪★ º°¤♠☆

I enjoy getting where I have to go in record time. One could say I'm a speed enthusiast. One could say that I might be a little too in love with the gas pedal but Christ on a cracker, why wouldn't you be? In your car, you seemingly have more control that you could ever possess in the workplace or in love or even in fellatio, so why my dear readers, would someone want to slap a fine on your beloved narrator for wanting to get home quickly in the late 2 o'clock hour?

The answer: because obviously there weren't any drunk or illegal drivers on the roads that the stupid fucking police had to worry about on that fine Saturday night/Sunday morning. There wasn't that one blue shit 1986 swerving Mazda with expired tags that I bypassed in my incessant need to get to bed. Or the black Magnum in the fast lane going a conscientious 45 mph (had to make revisions from original journal for my beloved American readers) in the "fast" lane. No. They had to fuck with jill_havok.

I was having such a great night. I hung out with good friends and had even "enjoyed" 2 mugs of Tea (that’s right... this bitch doesn’t drink and drive) earlier in the evening. Perhaps I should have left my friends' house just 5 minutes later or earlier and this entire process would have been avoided but no. God's cruel sense of humour was raining down in my direction in this, the week before the Pleasure Palace, drops. So I see the bright red lights behind me, as I was weaving in and out of the 55 mph traffic. I usually stay at the steady pace of 70 mph so the po-po's can't catch me slipping, but the other cars were moving at a snail's pace and I became frustrated. I go 0 to 60. There is no middle ground for me. Calm to fury. Maybe it was my music choice. Usually I drive home with ballads but for that nights trek I chose some more aggressive musical stylings. A little Pantera and there you go, red light in my rear view fucking mirror.

So my little invincibility complex led me to believe that the red lights behind me belonged to an ambulance, so I got over to the left so that they could pass and save a life. Then they the red lights got behind me. Fuck. That is not an ambulance, that is the fucking Highway Patrol and I'm about to be ticketed. Fuck me. So I pull over to the "emergency lane" and I get a cute loud speaker, telling me to exit the freeway and turn right. I pulled off the freeway and realized that I was shaking. Not because I was scared but because I was infuriated that I was about to lose 30 minutes of my life while these assholian Highway Patrolmen would have to write my ticket. 30 minutes where I could have arrived home, removed my dried up contacts from my precious eyes, disrobed. Now I would be sitting in my car seething and helpless. Fuck.

 I pull over, turn my car off, kill the lights, and take my seatbelt off because I should at least experience some comfort in my discomforting situation. The officers turn on their blinding white lights and approach my seemingly hostile vehicle. They then shine their flashlights from heaven into my face from both sides of my car and I am temporarily blinded. I hate them and I wish my car would explode, and send us all to the hell that waits. Self sacrifice. To think someone once told me I was selfish. Harrumph.

 "So you were going pretty fast weaving in and out of traffic, why the rush?" Officer Douchebag 1 asks in his dick like tone.

"Just wanted to get home", Havok replies.

"Do me a favour and look into this blue light. Don't turn your head; follow the light with your eyes." Officer 1 says. Of course I'll do you this favour Officer, but just this once because we're friends and you're NOT accusing me of drinking and driving, I think to myself. I also think how if I sassed him, would I be shot in the face or would he throw a brick of cocaine in my backseat and send me to federal prison for the next 25 years of my underwhelming life. Hmmm better not chance this one. So I obey and follow the light. He then puts the light away and asks me if I had been drinking tonight. I think to myself, I passed the light test, so that must mean sobriety right retard? No, he's probably disappointed that he won't be charging this lady with a DUI, so I have won a little for the night and that's always my ultimate goal.  I tell him that I hadn’t drunk anything and he pauses pensively. I use the word pensive very loosely as I suspect this 5'4 meathead moron doesn't think hard all that often.

He then asks for my license, registration, and insurance. What he didn't know at this point was that I unstereotypically possessed all 3 in proper and current condition. So fuck him. I make a point of opening my glove compartment tortuously slow and then proceed to throw everything on the floor in a more than dramatic manner, in an effort to find his 3 requested precious items. I slowly rifle through my goods and find all accounted for, I pass them to Officer Douchebag 1, Officer Douchbag 2 stands on my passenger side shining the unnecessary light on my more than irritated face.

Officer 1: " Where you coming from?"

Danger: "A friend's house in Mount Pearl"

He walks away with his piece of shit partner and a new Honda speeds past us and I think to myself, there weren't bigger fish to fry huh? I wished for the 20 minutes that they were writing my ticket and profiling me that I had just been a big titted, small waisted, platinum blonde caucazoid. In my present and future condition I would never know the amazing feeling of getting caught speeding and being sent off without a ticket. I mean a couple years ago, I got a seatbelt ticket and I was wearing a fucking seatbelt. The only luck I've ever known is the bad kind. Damn this white chip on my black shoulder.

Okay now its 2:20 am and I'm starting to fall asleep in my seat, a despicably drunken thing to do for a sober lady, but fuck my eyes are dried shrivelled raisins and I'm emotionally exhausted from this bullshit. Then Officer Piece of Shit 2 walks up and it's his time to shine. He is a middle aged stumpy caucazoid with a militant crew-cut. Something about the look in his eye and his supremacist moustache tells me that he defiantly voted Conservative (FUCK you Steven Harper). 

Officer 2: "Can you sign here"?

Danger:" How fast was I going "?

Officer 2:" 85".

Danger: "Really"? (In a rather condescending tone)

I immediately flinched and realized that that brick of cocaine is about to be left in my trunk this very minute. By the way, my entire car is filled to the brim with boxes and at least 2 suitcases that he had been eyeing suspiciously when they first pulled me over. I didn't feel the need to explain that I was moving in a week because what the fuck do they care, they have a quota to fill. He then tells me my court date is on the bottom.

Officer 2: "Do you have any questions?"

Danger: "Nope." (I really popped the p on that one because I didn't care about a brick of cocaine in my backseat, irrationality thine name is Danger.)

He then proceeded to walk away and I yelled out the window, "Am I free to go?" .They did not respond. I wished for their immediate demise and proceeded to cautiously pull away. I took the street all the way home so I could think about what just happened. I was overcome by a thick feeling of paranoia and sadness. As I drove 60mph on the surface street (in an effort to redeem my ego and give a silent fuck you to the shitty CHP) I realized that though I could complete traffic school and avoid my insurance being raised, I wouldn't be able to speed for a year and a half without getting a point on my record. These bastards had just ripped away from me the very thing that brings me joy on a daily basis. I know that it's unsafe and potentially life threatening but speeding soothes the day to day work pain and life pains that I'm always trying to flee from.

Then the denouement... I got home and took a second to look at the ticket and examine it for my court date. Febuaryr 3rd. 3 weeks before my 25th birthday. You Bastard.

Thanks God. What's next? Rabies. Or maybe mono?

Adam Carolla and NWA had it right. Fuck the police.