A few house cleaning items need to be addressed. First, I have to apologize to all you who devote a few minutes of your week to visit my shack. I have been on holiday, actually it was not a vacation but none other than the dreaded finals week in school. Needless to say, all my spare time was devoted to my final assignments which left me with no time to get anything else done. However, I promise that I will get a new posting up shortly. Now moving on to the second order of business. In the last rant "Food for thought" I made a statement that I need to clarify. When I said that my wife only gives me a monthly allowance of ten dollars I was lying. I know, I’m sorry. The real story is that my wife gives me plenty of money. In fact I have so much money that I find myself grabbing fives and tens to use to blow my nose into. You see I would never use anything larger than a fiver of a ten spot for the obvious reasons.... the fibers in the larger bills are much stiffer than in the fives and tens and I would hurt my nose if I used those bills...DUH! So please don’t any of you that know my sweet wife think that she is a monster because she really is not. She is the most beautiful and sophisticated woman I know. The wind beneath my wings. The twinkle in my eye and sometimes a pain in my... Oops sorry, you caught me rambling aimlessly. So with that buisness out of the way...ON TO THE FIRST ANECDOTE.
This being the virgin run of the Anecdote section of the blog, I feel that it is appropriate to tell a story of how I got the nickname "Snowman." Ok I have to confess, no one has actually called me snowman yet, but after you hear this story hopefully you will because I never want to forget the story and lesson behind the name. JUST A WARNING TO ALL THE MANLY MEN READING THIS*** it’s going to get a little thick in here today, and ...yes... your gaydar might go off crazy style by the end of the story. So do me and everyone else a favor...just come back next week when I get back to ranting. Next weeks topic: How people who can’t do their job correctly are the bane of my existence.
And now without further adeau... the anecdote.
As I go to work on the streets of Down Town Las Vegas I don’t see the greatest of things. A common week might hold a few robbery reports, a stabbing or two, and I if the moon aligns with the fourth ring of Jupiter at the right moment and I am looking north at 0300 and 58 seconds, we might get away with just one homicide instead of two or three. So needless to say, work can be a pretty dreary time for me. But this weekend my spirits were lifted by the gracious deed of another. To protect this guy’s identity I will call him Hansel.
Let me let you in on a little secret of being a cop...not all of us are the biggest, baddest mother around. In fact, most the cops on the street would get their butt handed to them in a fight with most of the criminals we deal with. However, I am convinced that the reason we do not get beat on every night is because of the general perception people have of cops. This perception being that most cops are trained well enough to destroy you if you so much as backtalk them.-which by the way, should be allowed down town and absolutely will be permitted when I rule the world. The reality is though, that this perception is fueled by our, and by our I mean cops, need to be safe. I know that I am not the best fighter or fastest runner out there, but the retarded 6'3, 250 lbs of prison muscle ogre glaring at me front the front of my patrol car needs to think I am; so as a defense mechanism, we portray ourselves as such a being.
Unfortunately this alter ego, if you will, tends to creep into your life outside of work just by the nature of the beast. I mean, I am-or pretend to be- a hybrid mutant of the Incredible Hulk, Superman and The Thing (a guy made of rock for all who had a life and/or friends and did not read comics growing up) at work, and don't get me wrong I pull it off with the greatest of finess. however, that's not always a good thing, being able to pull off self-confident in the face of any situation. The reason being most people, myself included, just seem cocky and probably arrogant to everyone else. i am here to tell you this is not the case.
now that ws a long intro to a short story with an even shorter moral/lesson. this past weekend I, along with two of my good friends, went golfing. now i am not a great golfer, infact, i am possibly the worst golfer you will ever meet. my clubs are goofy looking (lime green duct tape spiroled down the shaft), i wear converse allstars not golf shoes, my swing is more of an oval shape than a nice circle and my stance is all goofy. but, i am a cop so i freaking rock at everything in my mind. let me take you to the tee off. there we are the three of us, one of my friends (the one we are calling hansel ) looks like a white Tiger Woods, my other buddy looks like any high priced atterny you might find in New York City and then there is me..cargo shorts, white t-shirt and my converse. Oh and dont forget my red fox racing hat and my beloved Dulce and Gabbana knock off shads. the ones with the hearts on the side that are encrusted with crystals. so we are all stretching with our clubbs. you know pullin off the old high over the head then bringit back and twist to stretch out the back muscles. yeah we had the whole thing down. to look at us stretching you would think we were pro golfers. that is untill you watch me tee off.
So Hansel tee's off and it goes about 200 yards straight down the fairway, my othere friend does the same.
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