1234...41 in a 25

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" the officer asked.

As someone who takes pride in his quips and sarcastic comebacks, the best I could muster was "I'm gonna guess I was speeding."

I left myself an out. "Gonna guess." I knew exactly how fast I was going. I did think it was a 30 mph speed limit though.

Why do officers ask you that? You can't tell the truth or what you want to say:

• You have nothing better to do than pull me over in my jalopy
• You hate your life
• 'Cause it's your job
• Seriously officer. Did you look at my car as you walked up? You should be amazed my car made it to 41. In fact you should be paying me.
  
• You're trying to oppress me, the poor cracka who's working a job for barely over minimum wage, who is going home for the 30th night in a row with dim prospects for the future, who didn't have a valentine, just add this to the heap of crap going sour in my life
  

I took my ticket. I wasn't happy about it. This was my first ticket, ever. My pristine record tarnished by the repulsive Elmhurst 5-0.

There are a few people I can blame for this bad twist of fate:

1. My boss. I went to talk to him to see if he had any info about internships at another magazine I'm thinking of applying to. Thus, I didn't leave at 4:59 p.m. as I usually do. I left at 5:15 p.m., aka prime time for police clocking those going home on a Friday night.
2. Feist--My iPod somehow rejuvenated itself like a phoenix and gave me a little juice for the ride home. I was bopping my head, dancing in the car and gave a bit too much action on the gas.
3. Naturally, the cop. I have an "aged" car and no previous record.
4. The slow poke who was in front of me on the side street who made me want to make up for lost time.

That's my vent. Now I have to drive around with a slip of shame instead of my license.

L Is For The Way I Steal Credit For The Flowers Your Boyfriend Sent You

"That which we call a rose our own
would smell as sweet."
--Modified Shakespeare

Today marked the annual day of wine and roses for some. For others, a day of solitude and Home Shopping Network.

Below is a transcript from a conversation displaying my effort to spread good will among my female friends and coworkers.

9:49 AM Friend: hola

9:51 AM me: hello blissful lady

did you get my flowers?

9:52 AM Puzzled Friend: no but i did get flowers from jimmie john

me: i signed them jimmie john

;)

Former Friend: are you joking?

me: yes

sorry

Paranoid Friend: ok you scared me for a second

because i called him but left a message

scared as in that i just thanked him already for the flowers

me: apparently taking credit for flowers others sent isnt as funny as i thought

9:53 AM Semi-Relieved Friend: and then it would be awkward if he didn't really send them

me: it would

9:54 AM Friend: phew you just gave me an adrenalin rush of panic!

9:55 AM me: sorry

Note the effect I have on women: paranoia, fear, anxiety, panic. Discuss.

It all started when I went in to work today. One of the receptionists had a pot of tulips on her desk. "Good morning," I said to her. "I see you got my flowers."

And so it began.

There haven't been many Feb. 14s where I've been swooning as I am prone to do.

The following true story may appear in a Lifetime movie years from now.

One of my first Valentine's efforts was in the first or second grade. I was smitten with a girl. Taking a crack at love, I decided to make her a special Valentine. To go above and beyond the standard glossy cardboard with perforated edges and the latest cartoon character. So with my mom's help, I made a Valentine that would make even the coldest heart melt.

I went to school, probably wearing red, to deliver my token of affection. When I got to class, my amore wasn't there. As I would later find out, she was home (love) sick. In deep despair I didn't know what to do.

Returning home distraught, my mom again came to the rescue. We looked up her address in the school directory and drove to my crush's house. We were there in the driveway. I couldn't do it. I was too shy. I couldn't seal the deal and deliver my special Valentine to my potential childhood sweetheart. Did we turn around and drive back home? Nope. My mom wouldn't let my bashfulness get in the way of this, now, myth-caliber Valentine. In a display of true love, she went to deliver it for me.

Did me and my childhood cherie skip off into the sunset to live a life of bliss? Not quite. But a few years later I did get a special Valentine from her.

Love is a funny, yet many a splendored thing.


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Listening to: Diana Ross & the Supremes - You Can't Hurry Love
via FoxyTunes