Friday: The Universe Hates Me

Friday was like a Carnival of Suckitude. And by Carnival of Suckitude, I mean that it was like a traveling circus came to town, and after you excitedly give the person at the ticket booth all of your money, you are struck on the head with a club and awake bound and gagged on the dusty ground of the big top, and a clown car pulls up and clown after clown pour out of it, all with horrifying clown rape on their minds. And they all have herpes. It was just like that.

Firstly, I checked my email to see that three new comments had been made on my video, all of them debating exactly which display I belonged in at the large mammals section of the zoo. These people are lucky they can be so brave on the internet. If they said something like that to my face, I would kick them apart.

Secondly, I spent 45 minutes styling my hair and getting ready to go out, immediately after which Napoleon demanded that he needed to go outside RIGHT NOW, and I ran out with him only to have it start pouring while he was sniffing the ground disinterestedly, ruining the hairstyle and the makeup, and soaking my clothes.

I then went back inside to start the process over, and when I took my glasses off, they broke. I’m not eligible for another pair through my vision insurance for another four months. I’ve been wearing glasses for going on 19 years now, and this is the first pair I’ve broken, so it’s not as if I don’t know how to treat eyewear properly. I’ve since managed to superglue them back together, but I doubt they’ll hold for four months. Special.

While out and about, the guy who stood me up a few months ago decided he was going to try to make up with me by repeatedly asking if he could come home with me. I have no interest in being someone’s quick fix for a desperate need to get laid, and all of his pathetic “I’m so sorry, let me make it up to you” whining repeated OVER AND OVER AND OVER just irritated me and added another reason to the mental ledger to trust my instincts when it comes to people who approach me. The new golden rule may have to be “Freaky until proved normal”.

At that point, it had just been a sort of crappy day. I should’ve known that it was building up to something spectacular and just stayed home, because the best part was yet to come.

As I was trying to merge on the freeway to drive home, there was a car in the lane I needed to merge into, pointedly blocking my way. I sped up to merge ahead of it, and it sped up. I slowed down to try and merge behind it, and it slowed down. This car had a completely empty lane to the left and could have moved over to allow me to merge, but chose not to. So I did what I felt I had to, and sped up as quickly as I could, as much as I dared, to merge ahead of it, as the road was open ahead and quite crowded behind me, so even if I slammed on my brakes, I couldn’t have gotten onto the highway.

Less than a minute later, I was being pulled over. I mentally tallied the reasons I could have been getting pulled over—my license plates were current, my brake lights were fixed, and my carpool lane mannequin, Captain Magnifico, was safely stored in the trunk, so I was baffled. I rolled down the window, and the police officer scolded me for essentially cutting the guy behind me off. When I tried to explain what happened, the officer asked if I had been drinking. I told him I hadn’t, and he replied “Well, I sure smell something, are you sure you haven’t been drinking or someone hasn’t spilled alcohol on you?” He repeated this line of questioning over and over again, and my answer didn’t change—No, I hadn’t been drinking, and no, I didn’t know what he smelled. I bit back the suggestion that perhaps he should go get his nose checked out, and the follow-up question as to whether he believed he had been a bloodhound in a previous life, because even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, I didn’t want to go to jail because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

He then asked me to step out of the car. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, there was no doubt. I was participating in my very first field sobriety test. Now, I figured that if I ever had to participate in one of those humiliating displays, I’d at the very least have had the decency to do my part earlier and actually been drinking. As I stepped out into the slow drizzle with flashlights shining on me and cars blasting by on my left side, I had a moment of surreal “This is not happening right now. This is not happening. I must be dreaming this” but the flashlights in my eyes and the rain splattering on my face proved it all too real. The cop then asked me if I needed my glasses to see, and once again, I swallowed my sarcastic responses. “No, I wear them for decoration,” “I like the sexy librarian look,” “Actually all I need is my bat radar,” and, of course, the ever popular “fuck off, I haven’t been drinking and don’t deserve to be treated this way because you want to feel like a big man.” I said none of these, because I didn’t want to have to find out that part of the sobriety test involved flinging myself down a muddy embankment.

“Unless you want me to read letters at a distance, I should be able to do whatever it is you want me to do without them just fine,” I smiled sweetly, which directly translates to “Fuck you” if you don’t have your Mellzah Body Language-to-English dictionary handy. He had me take my glasses off and set them on the hood of my car, and while his partner shined a flashlight on me, he had me follow a pen with my eyes, and then open my mouth so he could look inside. I can safely say that I’ve never been as humiliated in my life as I was at that moment. And yes, I’m posting about it on my blog for your entertainment—because what use are stories abut humiliation and degradation unless you tell others about them?

23 Comments Friday: The Universe Hates Me

  1. motomotoyama March 26, 2007 at 4:25 pm

    Man, that’s an awful weekend. I vote that you get a do-over.

    1. s1obhan March 26, 2007 at 6:28 pm

      I second this do-over proposition! Maybe your Saturday was better than your Friday? Damn herpes-infested clown rapers.

      1. admin March 26, 2007 at 6:35 pm

        The scary part is I think clowns do that ALL THE TIME, not just on special occasions.

  2. Anonymous March 26, 2007 at 4:27 pm


    oh lady, I am so sorry!

  3. starladear13 March 26, 2007 at 4:50 pm

    But they let you go right? I’d manage to fail the field sobriety test if i were sober.
    Hey my car blew up! Yay! And it is going to cost a lot more than 300 dollars.
    You still win in the crappy Friday contest though!

    1. admin March 26, 2007 at 6:41 pm

      They did indeed let me go–whether they eventually realized their mistake or hoped I’d do something a few miles down the road that was worth giving me a ticket for, I still managed to stay out of jail.

      After I got past the whole “this is not happening” portion of the program, my next coherent thought was “thank god I’m wearing flats today in case they want me to walk in a straight line”–I have a hard enough time walking straight in heels when the ground ISN’T wet, and I’m not confused and angry and cold and tired.

      What’s wrong with your car? Besides being blown up, I mean?

      1. starladear13 March 26, 2007 at 8:53 pm

        Blah blah blah, blown head gasket blahity blah blah head not fitting correcting onto engine core blah blah blah 1600 dollars…

        1. admin March 26, 2007 at 9:32 pm

          ooooh, that sucks hard.

  4. yimmy149 March 26, 2007 at 5:31 pm

    Man that sucks! Did you get a ticket? I got pulled over for speeding and following too closely on an onramp once (read: flying down it at 75mph and then getting stuck behind a truck merging onto the 60mph freeway at 50).

    I have to be in Tacoma at 10am tomorrow for traffic court. Not looking forward to that commute.

    1. admin March 26, 2007 at 6:46 pm

      I would imagine they would tell me I’m getting a ticket instead of just sending one in the mail, so I’m guessing I got off ticket-free. And if for some reason one DOES show up in my mailbox, I am fighting it like nobody’s business.

      You have to be in Tacoma at 10? Ew, I don’t blame you for not wanting to make that drive. At the very least, you’re going against the majority of traffic while you’re on 405–I don’t know what I-5 south looks like in the mornings, but I’d imagine it’s not good.

    1. admin March 27, 2007 at 3:25 pm

      I’m not a fan of power-trip cops, myself. The one who showed up on the scene of my accident in January was quite nice. The problem is that a lot of people with a bully mentality are attracted to the job in the first place.

  5. suspiciouskay March 26, 2007 at 5:42 pm

    Wow, that was crappy indeed. By the way, I hope the people who left you those nasty comments end up peeing violently all over themselves in the most embarrassing place imaginable — in the cafeteria at work, for example, assuming they have the mental capacity to hold paying jobs — and just when they think the embarrassment is over, they slip on their own pee and crash wildly into both the cop who gave you the sobriety test (who is then arrested for causing a public disturbance) and a very wise and very sexy attorney who then sues them for every penny they own and then splits the money with you. The end!

    1. pretzelcoatl March 26, 2007 at 5:59 pm

      You forgot to include the clowns from the Carnival of Sucktitude. 🙂

      1. suspiciouskay March 26, 2007 at 6:12 pm

        Didn’t you hear? They totally ganged up on the guy who stood teh_dirty_robot up, and gave him their collective herpes. Tragic? Perhaps. Well-deserved? Definitely.

    2. demonlet March 26, 2007 at 6:21 pm

      This is the best mental image ever – I’m smiling a whole lot.

      1. suspiciouskay March 26, 2007 at 6:24 pm

        Yar, Steve!

    3. admin March 26, 2007 at 6:49 pm

      I’m hoping the same thing, except I’m guessing that instead of it being the cafeteria at work, it’ll be the cafeteria in junior high, and while they’re crying on the phone asking their mom to bring them new pants, they’re missing state-required examinations, and suddenly the best job they can ever hope for is cleaning up dung at the large-mammal exhibit at the zoo. And all the animals are rape-tastic and have herpes.

      1. suspiciouskay March 26, 2007 at 6:56 pm

        A winner is you!

        Agreed. I like your version much better.

  6. dslartoo March 27, 2007 at 2:49 am

    I hope you got his badge number. Call your district and file a complaint. It probably won’t get you anywhere, but the complaint may go into his service jacket.


    1. admin March 27, 2007 at 3:28 pm

      Unfortunately, I didn’t. But I imagine taking that step will just get my name on a list somewhere so the next time I get pulled over I’ll be even MORE screwed.

  7. delicateman March 27, 2007 at 6:27 am

    maybe if you had gotten your new bra and had the bigger titties the cops wouldn’t have made you get out, or would have made you do more tests….im not sure.

    depends on the cop.

    1. admin March 27, 2007 at 3:31 pm

      I’ve heard that a decently high percentage of women try to get out of tickets by offering sexual favors to cops. I’m SO not one of those.

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