I got this today from Jared, so I figured I'd share my favorite ones.
English to Cop Translation:
What you say: "I didn't do it."
What cops hear: "I did it, you should definitely search me."
What you say: "You can't arrest me for that."
What cops hear: "I'm going to resist, so please hit me with that metal stick you have."
What you say: "STOP"
What cops hear: "I'm not quite done resisting, so if you could just whack me a couple more times, that'd be great."
What you say: "I only had a couple."
What cops hear: "Keg stand"
What you say: "Who the hell called the Po'Lice?"
What cops hear: "I'm the reason you're out here, so arrest me as soon as possible."
What you say: "I ain't got nuthin'."
What cops hear: "It is on my immediate person and you would be prudent to frisk me at the earliest opportunity."
What you say: "There ain't nuthin' in there."
What cops hear: "You should definitely search my car. Be sure to start with the driver's side."
What you say: "I don't know where that came from."
What cops hear: "That's mine."
What you say: "That belongs to _________(fill in the blank)"
What cops hear: "That stuff is definitely mine."
What you say: "Do you know who you are messing with?"
What cops hear: "You should hit me with something soon."
What you say: "Man you planted that!"
What cops hear: "Okay, I'm getting ready to run or fight, so you should have that taser set to 'involuntary defecation' for when I get ready to bolt."
What you say: "If you weren't wearing that badge I'd ___________(fill in the blank)"
What cops hear: "Look officer, I haven't experienced a really good whoopin' in some time, so if you and your friends wouldn't mind..."
Each year, we go from this:
With just a few
short NEVER-ENDING months of this:
It's like getting a whole new dog twice year! You know, if new dogs came with a complimentary dump truck load of loose fur to scatter around your yard and home.
"Hi there. My tire - the one you guys patched three months ago - is flat again. Please fix it."
"Do you have your purchase paperwork?"
"Erm. No. But you have a nice computer in front of you. Look it up."
"We canít do that."
"We donít keep a record."
"You looked it up last time."
"Yeah, well, we donít keep the data past one year."
"Uh huh. So, let me get this straight. You offer a lifetime warranty on tires purchased here and you donít keep the data on file?"
"Look, hereís the receipt from the last time you guys fixed the flat. See right there? Says you charged me $0.00 because I bought the tires here. Will that work?"
"...Fix the flat."
"All right, but we're going to have to charge you to rotate and balance."
"All right, but I'm going to have to hit you with a tire iron."
For the record, kids, if you're willing to put in a little time and effort to forge some papers saying that you bought a set of tires at Sams over a year ago, you can have free tire service for the rest of your natural life. Just remember to thank me.
Chronicles of Riddick: Much better than the first time I saw it, although the term "Quasi-Dead" still makes me gag a bit. Seriously, they couldn't come up with a better name? But hey, it's still a good ass-kicking type of movie.
Lord of War: Less than a minute in, I began hoping the main character would die horribly. He didn't. This movie pretty much destroys your faith in humanity.
Dark Water: Meh. An average sort of scary with some good boogity-boo moments. Not as creepifying as The Ring or The Grudge, so I was able to sleep with the light off last night. It took me weeks to get over The Grudge and I STILL can't look at a rabbit's foot without whimpering. Dark Water just didn't have that kind of kick.
We just got done having the biggest water balloon fight I think I've ever been in. It started with our branch manager (the boss man himself) launching the attack from the second floor stair landing, then progressed to a pitched battle where none were safe. Even noncombatants were forced to take up arms, as the attackers were not exactly concerned with limiting collateral damage. Water guns were produced and those of us on the ground returned fire amid a hail of water balloons. The less scrupulous coworkers were using the babies and toddlers as human shields.
It evolved into guerilla warfare, with enemy combatants popping up from behind bushes and around trucks. Those of us below finally had to resort to treachery in self-defense. I myself launched a water balloon directly at our branch manager while he was encumbered with a set of chairs during cleanup. The floor and walls just inside the door on the landing are absolutely soaked, as is everyone's clothing.
I don't think I've ever had a better day at the office.
I'd post pictures, but I don't have anyone's permission. Suffice it to say that today was awesome.
Today my workplace is throwing a picnic of epic proportions. They've gone out and rented tables, a stereo system, and a grill large enough to cook a whole buffalo. Our kitchen is currently overflowing with food. They've blocked off the driveway with one of our trucks and the tables are set up in the shade. The music is already turned up and hardly anyone is still pretending to work.
Yesterday was bad, but not nearly as bad as I feared. It was mercifully cloudy (although the heat index was still 100 degreees, according to the Weather Channel), and there was even a faint breeze most of the day. I was dead tired by the time we got home yesterday evening, but all in all, things went fairly well. The new coworker worked out great and I'm hoping to hand some of these projects off to him in the future.
This weekend's canoe trip down Bear Creek has been cancelled (because it might rain tomorrow), so our weekend plans have pretty much been scrapped. I'm not sure what we'll get up to, but I'm sure we'll come up with something.
Tomorrow I'm leaving at 6 AM for a job in Clarksville, Tennessee. I am DREADING this job because:
Right now, the current temperature for Clarksville is showing as 105.4įF. However, the Weather Channel reports it as 96įF and I'm trying very very hard to believe them.
Tomorrow isn't looking much better, heat-wise.
As planned, this job is going to require approximately 6 hours of hammering 5/8-in stainless steel rods into the ground.
Knowing my luck, we'll be hammering the damn things into gravel or something backbreaking like that.
Intense Heat + Hard Working Sarah = Puking
It's another TVA job, meaning that the site will either be a) a forest, b) a mountain, or c) totally inaccessible due to large electrical equipment of an intimidating nature.
TVA means I'll have to wear a hard hat (AKA brain-baker). Because you wouldn't want us to get hit in the head by a METEORITE or something, now would you?
TVA people are coming to watch us work, so no chance of ditching the hat. They'll probably sit in their trucks. You know, to protect them from the meteorites.
I might be forced to stab a TVA employee or two with the aforementioned 5/8-in stainless steel rods.
I'm not able to take my usual tech with me, so I'm taking a new coworker I've never worked with before. But he says he did resistivity testing at his old job, so maybe things will go smoothly. Hopefully.
But I'd hate to have him think I'm doing something wrong and spend the day comparing methods and thinking of each other as "that idiot."
Back in the day, a couple of friends, my sister, and I all got together and, fueled by nothing more than too much caffiene, wrote a couple scripts for three Star Wars parodies. The fourth one was never finished, and the world is probably safer for it. Friday evening, in a fit of nostalgia (or something), my sister asked me if I still had copies of the scripts. It turns out that I do, and once again the phrase "Ewoks make great salami!" was unleashed upon the universe.
(Err, have I mentioned that I'm a total nerd? Because if not, this might come as a bit of a shock. I know!)
Anyway, in the process of digging up the files, I was reminded that I still have an old pre-Pitas website taking up space and gathering cyberdust. While sorting through the mess (this was also pre-organization ability, apparently), I stumbled across several old photos from high school. Among them were a few scans of pictures I took almost exactly eight years ago while visiting the British Isles on a trip with our high school chorus. The scan quality leaves much to be desired, especially since the photos were matte finish, but here is my favorite:
Man, I wish I'd had a digital camera back then.
After we arrived home from our trip to find several small piles of cat vomit artfully arranged over the study floor, I might have encouraged the dogs to "clean them up" for me, so I wouldn't have to pick up the chunks before soaking the offending spots with Resolve. Maybe.
Hey look, pictures!
My comments section still isn't counting new comments. Why, Backblog? Why?
I am really looking forward to visiting my parents this weekend. After living in Huntsville for nearly seven years (holy crap, SEVEN?), I'm suprised that I still get homesick for Tennessee. But I do, and it's been a couple months since I was last home. My sister is supposed to be there also, with her husband and da bebe.
I haven't been taking many pictures lately, so I'm resolving to get out there with The Precious and start back up again. Anyone up for wandering the area with me at some point? I'll even loan you a camera if you don't have one.
Oh, and it's Bastille Day. Say something French.
So, I've been doing some
spring er, summer cleaning and decided to do away with the old template. Let's face it, I had the same basic site layout since December 2003. That's TWO YEARS AND SEVEN MONTHS of the same crap. It was time for a change. Yeah, it's a little bare, but I got tired of clutter.
Now if I could just figure out why the heck my comments aren't showing the correct number of replies, I'd be (mostly) happy.
Two stories today caught my attention. One, on Yahoo News, was about Dr. Kevorkianís statement that while he would not choose suicide, "a person should have the right to have the option if he or she, in sound mind, needed and desired it while in irremediable pain and suffering and terminal."
The other was on the Today show this morning. It was a story about a 16-year old with Hodgkin's disease who has decided to forego a second round of chemotherapy in favor of a natural herb treatment and diet. The state is trying to force him to receive chemo by assuming joint custody and using the threat of jail time for both him and his parents.
I understand protections for minors when it comes to medical decisions. After all, you can't let a 5-year-old die from an ear infection just because his parents are religious whack jobs. But 16? It seems to me that, unlike a 5-year-old, a 16-year-old ought to be able to understand the implications of refusing treatment. And if he does, and he still refuses, then isn't that his decision to make, no matter how stupid it is? Isn't that his right?
Leaving aside all questions of religion, is it acceptable for the government to prevent someone from deciding how they want to die? Especially when that person is of sound mind and is coherently making his or her wishes known?
I believe very strongly that the government does not have the right to tell me whether or not I get to die. That they don't have the right to tell me what doctors to see or what treatments to choose. That my body is mine and, if my actions cause no harm to any other, then it's my concern what steps I take in the course of treatment. And if there is no treatment, that it's my decision to end my life with dignity, if I so desire.
I know it's murkier with minors. But if 16 and 17 year olds can clearly demonstrate that they understand the options and the consequences, why stop them from refusing treatment?
Because I am bored out of my tiny mind, I figured I'd pass on the lovely timewaster my cousin Laura and Aunt Bonnie shared with me:
This past weekend was pretty awesome. I got back from North Carolina much earlier than I'd expected, but since we'd arrived onsite at 5:30 central time, I already had my eight hours in and I wasn't going back to the office. Instead, Todd and I loaded up the 4-Runner and headed down to Jackie's lot on Smith Lake for a weekend of camping. The weather could not have been any more perfect, the water was clear and warm, and it was great to just sit and relax for a while. Saturday night, we grilled steaks and Todd and Jackie set off a ton of fireworks (fortunately without losing anything important like a finger or a face). Even the mosquitoes seemed to be taking a break from it all, and for once we weren't totally mauled.
Still, there were the traditional stealth ants. These little buggers come from nowhere; you never even see their mounds. You're just chilling out, minding your own, when all of a sudden they start chomping on you. Then you jump up, do this kind of funny dance while you try to locate the source of the pain, and eventually settle back down, smarting and cursing, to await the next assault. The little beasts are an old enemy and this year we came prepared to do battle. But yesterday when my toe swelled up to twice its normal size, turned bright red, and felt as if someone had whacked it with a sledgehammer (repeatedly), while a freaky-looking red line traced its way up over my foot and up my leg...well, then I was forced to admit that perhaps, just maybe, the ants won this round. We might have poisoned the lot of them and eliminated several of their nests, but one of them made damn sure I wasn't going to get away unscathed.
Last night found me calling my mom to not-so-casually inquire if she thought that maybe my toe was going to, oh I don't know, fall off? I was torn between being worried that it might and being hopeful that it would. She called me in some antibiotics which left me feeling significantly better this morning. (Of course, I felt slightly stupid in the doctor's office when I showed them a foot that looks mostly better, but it was either go willingly or have Todd drag me.) So much trouble over a creature one-millionth my size. Talk about revenge.
Todd is FINALLY back home. So tomorrow, I'm leaving town. Great.
I passed the HAZWOPER class and am now certified to wop the heck out of some haz. In the process, I learned about all kinds of creepifying things, like phossy jaw and the ILCO scandal. Things that make you go, "WTF?"
Sunday's field exercise was actually kind of fun, although I wouldn't want to do that sort of thing for a living. I didn't have a real problem with the suit (beyond the unbearable heat, of course), although my partner nearly panicked when we got to the top of the hill and his face shield fogged over. He's not really claustrophobic, but between feeling like he wasn't getting any air through his SCBA and suddenly being blind, he got a bit twitchy. Good times, good times.
As holidays go, yesterday was pretty good. For the second day in a row, I slept in obscenely late. Once I managed to get moving, I spent an enjoyable couple of hours hanging out with friends over lunch and 24. Then Todd called and said he was on his way to the house (an hour early even!), so I scurried back to meet him. The day ended with the fireworks show we wanted to watch being rained out, but that's okay because, damn, it's good to have him home again.
Also, Jessica made a holiday cake and stuck me with the leftovers. Oh, the humanity.