Why are the cops in my fantasies so different from the cops in my 'hood?
In my fantasies, they're a white hott muscular wall of testosterone. And heterosexual. (They're always eager to call for "back up," too, for some odd reason....)
In my hood, they're old and crabby and mean. No comment on their sexuality because I can't see past crabby. The cops were on my doorstep early Sunday morning when I got home from work.
They were upset about the thick black smoke filling the trailer court. I'm like, "Hey, what makes you think we have anything to do with it?"
He pointed to the 4th of July tire fire..............still burning steadily, and smoking like a bingeing chain smoker. I claimed mere coincidence. They claimed I had an hour to put it out. Mutter, mutter.
So I hosed it down. Hey, how was I to know that would create even MORE smoke?!
I am a Goddess. Not a firewoman. And while Male Offspring #1 is great at starting fires, he's not so great at putting them out.
I finally figured out a way to make fast money. Since the oldsters in the neighborhood seem to get such great enjoyment sitting in their lawn chairs watching me cut grass, I'm going to make grass cutting a Pay Per View event.
If they can't shell out at least $15 to watch me sweat like a whore in church, I'm confiscating their lawn chair. Personally, I think they ought to be ashamed of themselves. My dad is 88 years old and if he saw a woman cutting grass, he'd get his rider out and help. These lazy asses are perfectly content to watch me walk an acre instead of helping even once. Shame on them.
I was watching tv late last night and I saw a commercial for patenting. The guy said, "I was in my workshop and I got an idea."
If this had been a porn flick, it wouldn't be too difficult to figure out what a guy alone in his workshop was doing...