Pump the brakes, sister.

I just wanted to run my errands, get some groceries for the meal I was taking to a sick friend, then boogie on home and enjoy the ride while doing so. It didn't happen. As I was doing forty-five in a twenty-five, the unthinkable happened. Those darn red flashing lights, the ridiculously embarrassing high-pitched sirens - OMG, he was pulling ME over. What a sucky sitch. I had to juggle the iPod out of my lap, put down the cell phone, turn off Tom-Tom, and lower the volume on Zeke's dvd player all while fishing around for my driver's license. Didn't that copper know I was too BUSY to get a ticket today??? Jesus. Anyway, here's where all the right stuff clicked into place: I found my license and then...BONUS...I found my little Get Out Of Jail Free Card that my brother the piggy (cop) gave me a few years back in addition to the nice, big, fat, FOP symbol for my license plate. Yippity skippity. I handed it all over to the big daddy at my window, he smiled, asked where brother piggy worked, we chatted for a few minutes about brother piggy's job, then big daddy told me he was "happy to see that Zeke and I were buckled in safely" and to have a good day. GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAA! I was all smiley and happy and polite and ready to put on my little turn signal to leave when Zeke yelled from the back..."I TOLD MOMMY TO SLOW DOWN - SHE'S A DANGEROUS DRIVER!"

Thanks for diming me out, punk.