Friday, October 12, 2007

I drive way too fast.

This is not new or exciting, and the fact that I don't have more speeding tickets is some sort of freak miracle that I choose not to question for fear that it'll stop.

I was driving to Indiana to spend the night with a guy I dated awhile back (It really isn't as bad as it sounds), and I was plugging along rural Indiana rocking out to Puscifer. I noticed a little sports car get right up behind me on my ass. So I switched lanes.

Little Sports Car switched right behind me.

This makes me wonder, but if it was a cop he would've pulled me over by now, seeing as I was going a good 29 miles over the speed limit.

I slowed way, way down, and he slowed way way down too.

Now, any single female reading this would have had the exact same reaction I did, which was "What the fuck?" and a little pang of freakedoutness.

This guy needed to get off my ass, and now.

I quick got into the left lane and accelerated and quick got back into the right lane in front of a truck.

Little sports car followed me.

At this point, it became obvious that I was in the middle of nowhere and some obvious psychopath was following me. So I flipped on my dome light to find my cell phone.

And thats when I saw the cherries and blueberries.

When Captain Dipshit of the Boone County PD (Not making that up, either), finally got to my window, he explained why he pulled me over.

"Miss, you were speeding, and then you slowed down, and then you sped up, and you were weaving. The dome light came on, so I assumed you were under the influence".

So I did what anyone would expect someone like me to do in that situation.

I looked the man with the nightstick, handcuffs, and the gun straight in the face and said, "I was trying to get you to stop following me".

After I convinced him not to make me step out of the car, he admitted that following for 15 miles without pulling me over might have been the reason for my 'erratic driving'.

He let me off with two warnings.

Which I'm keeping as proof that there is a place called Boone County Indiana.

Next Post: Why Honesty Is NOT The Best Policy When You're Pulled Over For Speeding

Thursday, October 04, 2007

I know I haven't updated in awhile. I've been sick, and honestly, sick and tired of finding my writing all over the internet with other people's names on it.

It's the most disheartening feeling in the universe and I've considered more than once abandoning this thing and finding another medium where my work won't be vomited all over the internet with 45 different people's fucking names all over them.

Don't believe me?

Go to facebook, or myspace, and do a quick search for "50 mistakes women make when having sex" or even "50 mistakes women make" and come back here and tell me exactly how many people credit me for it.

And tell me that you wouldn't be absolutely livid that some stupid cunt on the internet would steal your words because they were too stupid/lazy/unoriginal to make up their own. The problem is, for every person that does that, I potentially lose someone coming here, which drives down the traffic and makes it a lot harder in theory for me to get the book I'm working on published, which then takes money out of my checking account which we all know is a really nice goddamn way to piss me straight the fuck off.

I will say, when I call them on it or ask, most people are really good about putting a link up and giving me credit where credit is due. However, I just had 3 people in a row tell me to fuck myself. Fuck myself? Oh no, fuck you. In the ass. With the big fat copyright stick that I will soon beat you with.

So go ahead, go to facebook, myspace, or anywhere else on the internet with those idiots claiming that they wrote it, and tell them Clare sent you.

I hope they choke to death on their own vomit.