…I was arrested during my lunch break today. I took a long route to my fav coffee shop to smoke a spliff, and here I am, just puffing away, when I realize that I’m sharing the sidewalk with a cop. And not just any cop. A mean one. And he’s feeling even meaner than usual today. He was not happy to smell my leafy greens and he noticed my hand-rolled cigarette right away.
I decided not to say anything once he’d read me my Miranda rights. I wasn’t really interested in having my clever generalities (“smoking pot is a victimless crime!”)–or not so clever generalities (“whatever, man, everybody does it”)–used against me in a court of law. Instead I just batted my eyelashes all the way downtown to the police station.
Needless to say, I didn’t make it to my coffee shop. I used my one phone call to get an estimate from the carpet cleaners, then I whipped out my credit card to post bail and to pay for a taxi back to work (I loooove credit!). I made it back just in time to be fifteen minutes late from lunch. I’m awfully glad they were so quick with the fingerprinting.
(Let the above be epistemic evidence that the first rule of blogging should be: If you don’t have anything funny to say, don’t say anything at all.)
In the actual world, I do have a very large pimple on the inside of my nose. And after twenty-three days at this temp job, I can finally remember the firm’s name so that I might answer the phone without notes. Too bad it’s my last day. I am really enjoying the lack of responsibility for today’s actions, though. I’m collating really slowly, and I’m considering peeing on my chair before I go.
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