I once saw the biggest…another FTSF

I know, right? So many ways to take this one.

I think the obvious route would be for me to tell you about the biggest Wang I’ve ever seen. Have I ever mentioned that?

Jin Wang is a Chinese guy I went to college with. He’s like 6’3″ tall. That’s a big Wang!

Oh, or there’s the biggest Dick I’ve ever seen.

That’d be Dick Larson. He sells printers and paper to our department. He’s probably 400 pounds, were I to guess.

I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned the biggest Peter I’ve ever seen either.

Peter O’Henry is a bar owner in the area. He’s 6’5″ or 6’6″and looks exactly like Conan O’Brien. You have to catch him before 10am, if you want to talk to him while he’s sober. He’s a really fun guy. He once threw a man through the window of his bar and then got mad at him for breaking the window so he went outside and threw him back in through the broken window to yell at him about paying for the window. Ha, maybe you had to be there. I wasn’t, of course, because that’d probably be a law violation of some sort, right?

Are these penis jokes doing anything for anyone? These are real people, I swear it!

Ok, this is pretty stupid already, so I’ll spare you the list of all the huge Johnsons I know and just tell a stupid story instead.

I was working with a great group of officers in my precinct one summer when another officer was transferred in to our group from another part of the city.

Transfers are pretty common, so it was no big deal.

Where I work, certain types of calls, like domestic disturbances, require two officers to handle. I liked riding alone, so my second officer would always be another officer riding alone, as opposed to sending a car with two officers riding together.

Anyway, the first time we got a call together, this newly transferred officer never showed up. I waited and waited and handled the call myself, but was pretty annoyed that she never came by. I chalked it up to her being new to the area and just assumed she was lost.

Well, she was lost….mentally. It turns out that she was as dumb as a bag of hammers. She didn’t make it by lots of calls, and was eventually fired or she mercifully quit, I don’t recall which.

Anyway, that waste of words is completely irrelevant to my I once saw the biggest…story, other than she was there.

One brutally hot summer day, we got a call for a fight or a disturbance and she actually fucking showed up. In fact, she got there first.

The door to the house was wide open and I was still on the sidewalk when Officer Lazy walked inside the house.

I suddenly heard a black woman laugh hysterically and say, “Oh my, GIRL!!! I hope they sent somebody bigger than you!”

Officer Lazy was a smaller woman, but she wasn’t tiny by any means.

The woman popped her head out the door and upon seeing me said, “You’re bigger, but you two better get some more of y’all here fast.”

That didn’t sound like a good indication that things are going to go smoothly.

She was a big, fat sweaty woman and she was all in a dither about her son “showing his ass.” Have you ever heard that term before? I hadn’t, but it’s a favorite of mine now.

Anyway, she wanted her son out of the house because they weren’t getting along. Yes, people call the police about stupid shit like this every single day.

It was hot and it was obvious that the front door was wide open because there was no air conditioner running in the building. Her attempt at getting some sort of breeze blowing with all the doors open was futile.

She called for her son to come down from his room.

“Did he hurt you?”

No.

“Did he break something?”

No.

“Is he wanted for anything?”

No.

Sigh….

“He stole my food!” She finally said.

“What?” I asked. “Your food?”

“He ate the last of the nuggets. They was my nuggets.”

“Oh good God,” I thought to myself. “I think my head is going to explode.”

I rubbed my temples as sweat dripped from the tip of my nose onto her floor. The vest I was wearing was stifling.

My brain had prepared for a teenager or maybe even a preteen to appear at the bottom of the steps, so when her son suddenly appeared, I was shocked by what I saw.

He was no teenager.

He was no preteen either.

He was HUGE, and he looked pissed.

He was wearing overalls that weren’t attached over the shoulders. The straps hung from his hips and he was shirtless. He was a lighter skinned John Coffey (like the drink, ‘cept with a Y) from the Green Mile.

He’d been in prison for sure. Between the tattoos and the physique, I was positive of that. He was tall and thick. His head was shaved and his eyes were brown and dull.

“He’s slow in the head,” momma said.

He stood there being all huge and just looked straight ahead at his mother.

“Whoah, the lights are on but nobody’s home,” is what I thought when I looked at his face.

Officer Lazy opened her mouth and said, “Boy, what’s wrong wit you? You ate yo momma’s nuggets?”

“Oh my fucking God,” I thought to myself. “Is this really happening? Officer Lazy is going to get this giant man child all riled up over a six pack of chicken mcnuggets.”

I’d left my metal tipped wooden nightstick in the car. I never forget my stick, but it was hot and my brain was frazzled. I sensed that it wouldn’t do any good anyway.

I thought about The Wacko Kid telling Sheriff Bart in Blazing Saddles, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Shooting him will just make him mad.” I’m paraphrasing, but he was talking about the Sheriff going to confront Mongo.

I laughed out loud.

You know how you start laughing and you just can’t stop? That’s what happened.

The thought that I was about to get into a fight I wanted no part of because an officer I didn’t like was an idiot, over some cold chicken mcnuggets, combined with my Blazing Saddles thoughts were just too much, so I snapped.

I laughed out loud and didn’t give two shits that I couldn’t stop.

Gigantor cocked his head and smiled as well. He was clearly at least mildly mentally not all there.

When I finally stopped, all three people in the room were looking at me, covered in sweat and just wrapping up a laugh about something they were no part of.

I intervened and did the talking with junior from that point on.

I explained to him that his mother wanted him to leave, at least for a little while. Thankfully, he had a place to go.

I lied and said that everyone who rides in a police car has to wear handcuffs, so I cuffed the biggest man I’ve ever encountered on duty and dropped him off in another part of the city, never to be heard from, by me at least, again.

——————————————————————————————-

This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post. The sentence is “I once saw a big…” Today’s sentence was brought to you by Jen, of My Skewed View! Her extra cool prize is that tonight, she’s a co-host, too! Go show her some love!

Finish the Sentence Friday

Hosts:
Janine: Janine’s Confessions of a Mommyaholic
Kate: Can I get another bottle of whine?
Stephanie: Mommy, for Real
Kristi: finding ninee

Posted in Finish the sentence Friday, Humor, Police Stories, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 56 Comments

Guest post…a random time i met an interesting woman.

Some of my more popular posts are the  simple ones where I just talk about an encounter that, for whatever reason, I hadn’t thought about in a while.

I shared one with my friend Kristi over on her blog Finding Ninee today.

Here is your warning that it’s not a funny encounter. It’s not tragic or anything, but it’ll make you cry before you laugh, assuming you don’t just fall asleep or stop reading it altogether after the first sentence.

Go check out Kristi’s blog. She’s great fun and has a great series called Our Land. I think we’re all supposed to get along and play nice there or something.

Posted in Guest Post, Police Stories, The not meant to be funny stuff, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 10 Comments

I love my today yous the best…

A couple of nights ago, the two year old, G$, was a pistol. He’s always a pistol, but that night he was more so than even he normally is.

He’s generally pretty good about getting to sleep nowadays, but for whatever reason he wailed and wailed for his mommy. He’s the youngest, so his status as a momma’s boy is totally not his fault and I don’t begrudge him for wanting her more than me nearly all the time when he wants consoling. Mom’s are where it’s at when it comes to TLC.

Wife went in to settle him down several times, but every time she left, his screaming continued. Exasperated, I’m sure, she tagged me in to try.

When I went in, he was sitting up and, of course, his first words upon seeing daddy were, “I want…I want mommy…” Whatever, little dude, it’s my turn.

I’d made up my mind before going into his room that I wasn’t going to butt heads with him. It was after 10 and he needed to get to sleep, so yelling at him for being a little butthole wasn’t going to help. It’d just rile him up even more.

We chatted a bit and at some point he said, “hold you?” That’s G$ speak for hold me. My first thought was that it wasn’t going to happen, sorry son.

We’ve never been ones to let the kids out of their beds. We’ve never had a crib or bassinet in our room and I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve had a kid in our bed asleep with the both of us. We are loathe to let the kids get their way when they’re being little jerkoffs.

For whatever reason though, I took him up on his sloppy seconds offer and took him and his favorite brown blanket out of the crib and over to the rocker.

I sat down and he immediately wrapped his arms around my neck and rested his head on my shoulder. He was tired. He turned his head a couple of times and was snoozing within five minutes. I’ve always marveled at how quickly a child can fall asleep.

I could have gotten away with putting him back in bed right then and there, but G$ and I seldom have these sort of alone moments so I stole some cuddle time. I sat in his dimly lit room and enjoyed the feel of his little heart beating against my own chest. I hugged him tightly and rubbed my hand on his little back. I could feel his spine where it arched just a bit as I rubbed. Up to his shoulder blades and back down to his diaper. I smelled his head and I’d swear that there was still the faint odor of new baby smell in there somewhere. It’s faint and will no doubt he gone soon, but it was in there along with the scented shampoo and lotion odors all competing for space in my nose.

Sort of like this...

Sort of like this…

We rocked and I thought it funny that G$ would never remember this time we’re enjoying together, that I’m enjoying at least. He’ll wake up and be the beast that he was born to be, and I’ll be happy, as I am right this second, with the memory of our time together.

I thought about what a challenge it’s been to get him to this point in his life.

He’s been loud.

He’s been stubborn.

He’s been rude.

He’s been G$, and I love him today, more than ever.

I thought about my whole family in the dark that night. I thought to myself that I really miss when the kids were tiny and they would sleep on my chest as I laid on the couch Those moments are so few and far between now.

Would I go back to that point though?

No.

I love each of my family peeps as the them they are today even more than the them they were before. Does that make sense?

WIFE:

Oh silly wife, remember when I carried that picture of you from when you were 19 or 20 in my wallet? You were so young and beautiful.

I had that picture for years and years, but it was lost in the great wallet caper of 2013.

Truth be told, you’re more beautiful to me now than you were even then.

You sometimes act skeptical when I tell you how sexy or beautiful you are, but I mean it every time. I sneak peeks of you when you’re bathing the boys or reading them stories. They love you so much, and so do I.

You gave me three great kids and have done most of the heavy lifting to make them the awesome little people they are today. That’s sexy to me.

You understand my temperament and get my humor. You call me out when I’ve gone too far and build me up when I’m feeling down. You were a patient single mom when I was in law school and even today still, when I work extra shifts to pay the bills. Young Wife may not have been as understanding.

Your encouragement, support, love, hugs, kisses and friendship mean more to me than the couple of pounds you always worry about or the way your hair looks or your jeans fit.

The wife, friend and mother you are mean more to me than how you look, but having said that though, you’re still really smokin’ hot, so I feel as though I got it all with you.

ACE:

What happened to my little girl?

In the blink of an eye you’ve managed to grow from this:

Awe, my little bit...

Awe, my little bit…

Into this:

Ace and her pup...

Ace and her pup…

You don’t remember the Mondays we spent together when I was off work going to Lion’s Choice for lunch, and then to Best Buy, sometimes to look and sometimes to buy.

We rarely ever missed a Monday lunch date, and those times with you are some that I’ll always cherish. You are my first born, my special little girl.

When I came home last night, you were telling me about the classes you hoped to take in middle school next year. You were so happy and talking on and on, but all I could think about was how beautiful you were. I made this? Wow! Then I thought, wait, what?? Middle school?? How did that happen so fast??

You are perfect just the way you are, Ace. You and I can talk and play games together. We talk about our days and what you’ve been doing. I love that you have friends that you hug and laugh with and spend the nights with.

You’re ten now. You’re at a great age. You help around the house and with your brothers, but you’re still a child, and that side of you comes out from time to time to remind your mom and I to step off and cut you some slack sometimes.

I miss baby Ace occassionaly, sure, but I love the little girl you are right now and can’t wait to see who you grow up to be.

COOL:

My little buddy. My main man! My first born son.

You are the clown prince of the family. What comes out of your mouth from day to day never ceases to amaze or amuse us. From coming home from preschool speaking entire Spanish sentences to telling our never before dinner seen waitress that you love her, it’s always something.

You’re a little guy right now, and people are drawn to you because you’re cute and funny and smart…you know, you’re a little me, right? Even down to your choice of beer.

Yay beach!

Yay beach!

You’re going to grow into a big guy soon enough. You’re four and will be five really soon.

I miss my tiny little guy, but love the you that you are today because you and I can talk to each other and play video games together. I can read you stories and you can ask me questions about them. You still think I’m really smart and cool and funny, so you earn points for that.

You’ve grown into quite the little man. I love to sit and watch you when you’re concentrating on doing whatever it is you’re doing, whether it be coloring or playing trains with your brother, or doing your favorite thing, playing video games. Look how into it you are.

So focused on Mario's quest...

So focused on Mario’s quest…

You’ll be in kindergarten in the fall, and before I know it, you’ll be talking to me all excitedly about classes you want to take in middle school. I’ll be nodding my head in agreement, but I’ll be thinking wait, what?? Middle school?? How did that happen so fast?? Just like last night with Ace.

G$:

My youngest child. My big boy. You did this to me, pal. You got me all thinking about who you all used to be and how, even though I miss the little you and the little Ace and the little Cool, I really do love all of the today yous, mommy too, more than I do the old yous.

It makes sense. I’ve known the today you longer than the other yous.

While I did love you as this little guy who would sleep during the day and stay up ALL.NIGHT.LONG.

Can't wait to be up all night...

Can’t wait to be up all night…

I love the today you even more. I really do.

You’re loud and strong and proud. You’re quite different from your brother and sister. Not better or worse, just different. At the end of the day, you’re our sweet boy.

Deceptively sweet...

Deceptively sweet…

You talk now. You’re talking really well, in fact.

Of course, with the talking comes a lot of yelling, but that’s ok. That’s just how you roll. We get that.

We hang out now and do things you like to do. When you were “little” you had to do what I liked to do and I would just hope you’d enjoy it. Now you can tell me where you want to go or what you want to do.

We’re closer now that we can reach an understanding, right?

Good times...

Good times…

I do enjoy looking at pictures from the past, but there isn’t ever a time when I want to go back and change anything. That sounds risky.

I love all my yous, just the way they are today, and I wouldn’t want anything to change on my account.

Instead, I’m doing my best to enjoy all of my today yous and looking ahead to what you’ll be like tomorrow.

Posted in Family, Parenting, The not meant to be funny stuff, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 108 Comments

Pet parent? uhhh, no…

The remote had somehow made its way to the unoccupied couch across the room. I was trapped in a reclined position on the other comfy leather couch under a warm blanket and my bargain bin Toshiba laptop, way too comfortable and cemented into my ass grooves to alight from my position quickly.

Whatever background noise was on the television had segued into a commercial break. The sound of some dolt trying to sell me products always gets my attention, so I was distracted from my work but in no position to quickly change it to another show so I could carry on.

I suffered through a couple of inane commercials about Lord only knows what before the third one finally sent me into a mental tizzy.

A lady in a recliner was on the television lovingly doting on a cat while it sat on her lap, no doubt thinking, “What the fuck has my life become?”

Linda Lonelypants was clearly distraught about whether or not Mr. Sprinkles was getting enough protein in his diet from his current cat food.

Rest assured, “pet parents,” you can feed your cat whatever the hell the brand was and your cat will live a long and healthy life. I couldn’t tell you what the brand was because after I heard “pet parents,” my brain went all fuzzy.

This must be a new thing because I remember biting my tongue several months ago when I went to pick up Carly (our 9 month old mutt) from the vet after her surgery to get spayed. The woman who went back to get her asked me whose daddy I was when I approached the counter.

Whose daddy?

I’m here for my dog, lady.

Because we like our vet and I didn’t want to offend Tammy Treehugger, the vet tech, I didn’t say anything other than, “I’m here for Carly.”

For whatever reason, this subsequent reference to pet parent annoyed me, quite unreasonably I’m sure. Then I heard it again during some goofy dog training show.

I barely wish to recognize that I’m the daddy to the three humans in the house some of the time, so claiming to be dad to the four-legged nuisances in the house ain’t happening.

I’m not the only one in our house who thinks it’s stupid either.

I'm so laying in my own filth right now.

I’m so laying in my own filth right now.

Not only do I dislike the notion that my dogs are in any way equal in the family hierarchy to even my little cretins, I sometimes wonder if I don’t just outright hate them, period.

This old bitch above is Jojo. She’s like 91 years old in dog years. At this point in her life, she mostly just drives me bonkers in between one of her many naps.

She has selective hearing in the worst way. I can yell at her at the top of my lungs to go lay down when her 80 pound ass is under the table while we’re trying to eat dinner and she’s sort of in the way, but she allegedly can’t hear me.  We’re two feet away and she acts oblivious. Open a bag of chips or jingle the leash even slightly downstairs though and she’ll come running from upstairs ready to go.

When she does at least pretend to hear me, making her move is such a chore. She is old; I’ll give her that. Coaxing her up the stairs can be difficult when her heart isn’t in it, but somehow, she’s able to get her fat ass on the couch during the middle of the night or while we’re away at all.

Those nails on the tile floor! Click, click, click. Oh my God! Make it stop!!! Why the fuck must you follow me around? It’s not love, people. It’s because she has a tapeworm or something and circles the kitchen island like a shark in the water. She knows that with three little ones around, scraps on the ground aren’t a matter of if, but rather when.

They are so bountiful, in fact, that her degenerate, mooching ass can pick and choose what to eat. Dropped grapes, banana slices, salad remnants, tomatoes, etc., go completely untouched. Well, not completely I guess, she’ll sniff it to make sure it’s not something she likes before leaving it there for me to clean up later. YOU EITHER EAT EVERYTHING OR YOU GET NOTHING! That’s my rule, so when I see a kid drop a piece of bacon or beef or a french fry, Jojo and I lock eyes before she’s click clicking and I’m diving to beat the other to the morsel.

If I win, I taunt her by showing her the food before tossing it into the trash while she watches scornfully. When she wins, she eats and turns it into some nasty gas for which the Wife will try to blame me later on in the evening.

I won’t even get into the mud and shit being trampled in out in my yard (which she has destroyed) and carried onto our carpets, or the fact that she just sort of pisses a little bit here and there whenever and wherever she wants. Don’t get me started either on the time she had some sort of episode that left shit or vomit or something ALL OVER the house one night while we were gone. We couldn’t tell what it was; it was that bad.

She has managed to pass along many of her aggravating, passive aggressive skills to the puppy, so I have another dog’s lifetime worth of that to look forward to.

Why get another dog then, Don?

We’re stupid, that’s why. There’s really no other explanation for it.

——————————————————————————————-

Dear crazy “pet parents” who read this. I don’t really hate my dog(s), at least not all of the time. They get to live in my house and eat and bathe and chew up my rugs and the kids’ toys, etc. so they’re pretty happy. I don’t hate them anymore than I sometimes hate my kids or wife or any other person I’ve ever lived with. If you live with anyone long enough, they’re going to piss you off, man or beast, so….lighten up. 

Love,

Don

Posted in Humor, Stories, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 68 Comments

Clark kent and a speech for new officers…

I was having a pretty pedestrian morning until a lively homeless gent, who smelled of peepee, ogled me for a few seconds before informing me that I looked like “Clark Muthafuckin’ Kent.” I guess these new eyeglasses aren’t so bad after all, if I can look like Superman’s alter ego to at least one probably fairly inebriated fellow like that.

Inebriated at 7:45 AM or not, it made me feel super, well, that and maybe the three cups of coffee I’d just had were combining to make me feel super. No matter the reason why, when I feel super, I like to write, so here we are.

I recently read Killing Lincoln. It’s the second Lincoln book I’ve read within the past few months, which is strange, as I normally abhor reading books of any sort for long periods of time. I always feel like there’s so much more I could be doing instead of reading, like playing video games or watching funny Youtube videos.

I mustered two opinions about Lincoln by reading hundreds of pages about his life. One is that he was a splendid public speaker and the less forceful, but still tingly opinion, is that he probably had more than one homosexual encounter during his travels in the wild west. I’ve nothing to base the latter opinion on aside from my interpretation of some of his letters, but my hunches are almost always right nearly half the time.

I’d have loved to hear Lincoln speak when he was on his game. By all accounts, he was a master storyteller and could move a crowd with his words. Today’s politicians shouldn’t have the luxury of monitors to help them read speeches written by somebody else. Stand in front of a crowd and speak using your own words and show us what you got, I say!

I love listening to men and women who can cause a crowd to fall silent and draw every single person in with their presence in the room. Most of the best professional and college coaches are people who can move their teams or wow perspective recruits simply by talking to them.

Speaking of recruits, though of a different sort, a few weeks ago, I dreamt that I was speaking to one of the recruit classes that had just graduated from the police academy and was getting ready to hit the streets as police officers.

Who knows why I’d have such a stupid dream? I did watch videos of some pretty cool speeches, such as Jimmy V’s inpirational ESPY speech from (astonishingly) twenty years ago and I do have police crap on my mind all the time, so whatever brain, mix up any old thoughts of mine you want when I’m asleep, I guess.

As with most of my dreams nowadays, I have no idea what I said, if anything, but with a recruit class getting ready to graduate tonight, I wondered what I might say to the group, given the chance.

*DOAT steps to the podium looking dapper in his police dress blues.

Good evening, recruits. It’s my pleasure to be here tonight to share with you some of my thoughts about your pending adventure into the world as an official police officer. I know you’re eager to get out of here and celebrate your accomplishment, so let’s get going.

You’ve no doubt been told by veteran officers you know, or heard through the grapevine that most of what you learned in the academy is bullshit, and that your real training begins when you’re out there experiencing it all firsthand.

Many years ago, that may have been true.

While there’s something to be said for learning on the fly, don’t forget your formal training, especially your defensive tactics lessons. By now, most of those lessons should come second nature to you. I recommend you keep them that way for your own safety and for the safety of those around you.

You should take stock of yourself as a person. What do you like? What are your strengths and weaknesses? What are you good at doing and what do you need to work on?

My kids all have capes. One has a Flash logo, the other Batman and the third is a Spiderman themed cape. When they put those capes on, they can fly and shoot webs from their wrists and they’re all stronger and faster than any regular man on the planet, maybe even in the whole universe, even daddy!

When mommy and daddy or an uncle or the dog is the bad guy, they win almost every time.

They rarely lose and they……they never die.

You could die.

Your bad guys won’t be your mommy or daddy or your dog or uncles.

Your bad guys will be some really bad guys, and girls. Some will have been in prison already. Some will be drug addicted and others will have mental issues. Some will just be bad because that’s all they know and they’ve grown up to be bad people.

Many of these people will hate you, but you must learn not to take it personally.

They don’t hate you because you’re Bill or Chad or Wendy, they hate your uniform. It took me a while to get that through my thick skull.

That uniform, by the way, those freshly pressed uniforms you’re wearing? They don’t come with a cape. How cool would that be though, right?

When you put on that blue shirt and those pants, you know it’s just polyester and cotton, but once that badge and gun belt are accessorized as well, PRESTO!!! Am I right? You guys all look great!

Most of you feel stronger, braver, more confident with yourselves when you’re in uniform, right? I know it. I do too, plus with me, it really brings out the blue in my eyes nicely!

That extra confidence is great, but remember this after you put your uniform on. No matter how shiny you get your brass, or how polished your boots and leather belt are, when you’re in that uniform, you’re still the you that woke up in your pajamas or your tighty whities this morning.

If you are dumb, the uniform will not make you smarter.

If you are weak, it won’t make you stronger.

If you are slow, that uniform can’t make you faster.

Don’t mistake that confidence you’re feeling for ability, because you’ll find yourself in over your head very quickly if you do. Don’t make threats if you won’t follow through. If you say you’re going to do something conditional to something else happening and that something else happens without you doing what you said you’d do, you’ve lost some control of the situation. You’ve lost some respect.

There are no time outs if you suddenly find yourself in a fight.

There are no rounds.

There is no time limit. For the bad guy, there is only getting away from your uniform, and if that means that your body must perish so the uniform can’t continue, then that’s what could happen.

There is no hollering for your mommy or daddy to “make him stop” when the bad guy plays too roughly. You’re on your own until help arrives.

Rest assured though, while you are struggling, they will come. Your fellow officers will come to your aid.

That’s when cops are at their best, when one of our own is in trouble. We don’t care if you’re white or black or a man or woman either. Like the bad guys, we will only see that a uniform is in trouble, so we come to help, in spite of the sort of person inside that uniform.

Hopefully, your training officer will teach you some of the rules that aren’t learned so easily in the academy so the person inside that uniform is one who is respected by his or her peers.

There are some unwritten rules that you need to learn. They are procedural things that you can to do avoid aggravating other officers, that I’ll not get into here.

I don’t envy you brand new officers at all.

Everything you do will be scrutinized by somebody. I would suggest to you that it’s in your best interest, no matter where you are, day or night, to assume, just assume, that somebody is watching you and that they have a video camera.

That uniform draws attention.

While it becomes hohum to those who are around it every day, never forget that the lights of a police car and the sight of an officer engaged with a citizen gets the attention of other citizens, even if it’s just a casual traffic stop.

You will be watched and judged and second guessed.

Know your policies and the laws that you have sworn to uphold here tonight.

Follow those policies. Be able to defend any actions you’ve taken, and above all else, use your common sense.

Listen to what people have to say when they try to explain themselves. Don’t be combative and make a tense situation worse because you’re not willing to show a little patience.

Not everybody deserves that ticket.

For every ticket you write in that uniform, do two nice things for other people in that same uniform.

Hold the door open for a woman. Look that clerk in the eye and say, “Thank you very much,” when he doesn’t charge you for that coffee.

Say hello and smile at every small child you can because one day, that clerk or that woman or those kids may be on a jury because some dirtbag has sued you for treating him too roughly while you arrested him for beating his own kids and wife into bloody messes.

The juror who got that ticket might believe the dirtbag, but the other three might trust that the officer on trial is telling the truth because some other officer treated him or her kindly, and they’ve never forgotten that.

You can do more to move people with that uniform than you can know right now, but move people you can.

It’s up to you whether you use your uniform to move them closer to our side, or push them farther and farther away.

We need the average citizen on our side, so make sure that they know we want them with us. Do this by treating them with respect.

You’re a human being, so don’t be so rigid. Have fun with people when it’s appropriate, be fair when you can, lay down the hammer when you have to, but do it all respectfully.

A little respect goes a long way.

You will encounter many people, suspects and victims of crimes, at one of the lowest points in their lives. Treat them with dignity then, when they feel abandoned or hurt or angry or ashamed or victimized or whatever, and most of them will remember you forever.

Good luck. Stay safe. Have fun!

 

Posted in Humor, Police Stories, Stories, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 103 Comments

Finish the sentence fri, blogging goals or some such crap…

Well crap, watching all the other mother hens having such fun with FTSF has burned me to the core with jealousy, so I’m last minute posting in order to pretend I’m a respected member of the group. Just FYI, nobody has inquired as to whether or why I’m not posting at all, but I’m not bitter.

The sentence today is simply: My blogging goals for this year are…

Yikes.

I can honestly say that I’ve not given this one iota of thought until this very second.

I’ve blogged for just over a year now. Ironically, my wife encouraged me to give blogging a try, possibly because she recognized that I liked to talk out my ass and there are a lot of like minded morons online who like ass originating information. Or, she was simply steering me to you guys, my gentle readers, as a way to avoid having to endure all these inane conversations herself and risking the chance that the kids will overhear the word fuck in one of the many forms I use it in everyday conversation.

I say ironically, because there was a time last year when I felt like when I was blogging, that I was doing something naughty. There were always a million different things that I could be doing instead of staring at my computer screen.

How fucked up is it to be blogging about wanting to spend more time with the wife and kids while they’re in the other room totally available to be spending time with?

When I wasn’t writing I was thinking about what to write.

In order to build up a following, I had to not only read other blogs, but comment and like those blogs repeatedly. Then I had to respond to my own comments and then there’s the trying to get the post noticed on Facebook or Twitter or wherever.

It got to be ridiculous, quite honestly.

I suck at blogging.

I don’t think I suck at telling stories or making people laugh or cry or whatever from time to time, but I do suck at trying to show my posts to multiple social media sites or going to BlogU or BlogHim or whatever they are conventions and interacting with fellow bloggers to discuss blogging so that we can blog about what we learned about blogging to become  more successful bloggers.

What?

What makes a blogger successful anyway?

I suppose there are some people out there making money with their blogs, but I have no ambition for that sort of thing.

I have some followers now. I have about 700 mostly real people following this blog. Is that good? Is 200 not good enough? Am I not successful as a blogger unless I have 1000? 10,000? OMG, I have under 200 likes on the donofalltrades Facebook page! Surely, that means I suck at blogging!

I did have a lot of fun in 2013. I was a contestant on Blogger-Idol, and that was a lot of fun (mostly). I was also Freshly Pressed, which I didn’t think would ever happen, honestly. Maybe I blew my load too early in my blogging life? Too much early success can make for  a letdown later on, or so I’m told.

Most importantly to me, I made a lot of great online friends through blogging. Sure, you might all be pedophiles or closet racists or baby hating, puppy kicking assholes in real life, but I like the online fake you well enough to overlook such possibilities.

In 2014, my goal is to continue to blog when I feel like blogging and to not blog when I don’t. I will not waste time wondering if I’m missed when I don’t post or force myself to rant about a fat guy sneezing under the sneeze guard at Ponderosa just to have a post for publishing.

If I don’t feel like posting, I’ll simply say, “fuck it” and post whenever I’m ready. I spent a lot of time forcing posts this past year and it shows at times.

Blogging has always been meant to be a relaxing, enjoyable release, but it became a bit of a pain in the ass at times because, deep down, I’m a people pleaser. That’s hard for some of you to believe, I know, but I do like most of you and I want to read everyone’s blog and answer every comment and comment on your blogs and then go like your post over here and there and everywhere. Bah!!

Being a good blogger takes a lot of time, and since our time is limited, we must take time from something over here, if we intend to use it over there.

All I want to do in 2014 is keep this fun for me and get comments like “you made me spit my drink out” or “I showed this to my husband and he peed himself laughing.” That’s my favorite part of blogging right there, the interaction. I wish I could observer people reading my garbage when I’ve written a funny piece. Making people laugh is great.

I have also, just this very second, decided to add the goal of having my pal over at Snoozingonthesofa name his third son after me. How random is that?

This whole post has been random and totally sucks, but it’s all you get because I’m off to work job 2 of 2 now!

Cheers to all for a great 2014, blogging and otherwise!

Oh, and before I forget. Ryan from ThatGirlRyan (her name is Ryan and her husband’s name is Ryan. You can’t make that shit up!) Anyway, I’ve inserted an intentionally grammatical error for you to find, even though it’s pissing me off having it there. You’re welcome. Hint, that you’re I just typed isn’t it.

Go check out the hostesses with the mostesses and Kristi too and play along with us.

Janine: Janine’s Confessions of a Mommyaholic
Kate: Can I get another bottle of whine?
Stephanie: Mommy, for Real
Kristi: Findingninee.com

Posted in Finish the sentence Friday, Humor, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 87 Comments

Eh, it’s a late to the party post mostly about 2014 goals.

The other day, I wasted a good half an hour putting together a post that sort of summed up our Christmas break and rehashed my life in 2013. I was going through each month, sort of reliving my life through blog posts. While I was amused at what I read, it quickly dawned on me that others would probably find it to be a bunch of self-serving crap. It became too link laden (I dislike more than one or two links in blog posts, and even then…) so I punted it to the draft folder with the 70 other posts that will almost certainly never make the varsity squad.

I read several blog posts instead, in the hope that something would inspire me.

Of course, there were many about New Year’s resolutions, so I figured, what the hell, I’ll try that.

I cracked open a Bud Light Lime and wondered what my resolutions for 2014 would be.

I thought about not drinking beer, but that thought came to me as I was lustfully gulping from the bottle of beer I’d just opened, so that one was out in a hurry.

Then I thought about curbing my foul language, at least a little bit. That sounded great in theory, until I muttered out loud, “you’re a fucking idiot, Don; you can’t do that.”

I was right about that. I mean, I do have to drive to get where I need to go, and the kids are at me to play this new Super Mario Bros. game. Have you ever played this? Playing the game alone is pretty annoying. Playing it with a ten year old girl and a four year old boy makes it super fucking annoying. A game has not brought out such animosity among DOAT family members since the awful card game Phase 10.

Worse than Phase 10.

Worse than Phase 10.

We fight over who gets the mushrooms or the flower or the penguin suit and then all the characters get into each others’ way and it goes downhill pretty fast.

I’m not proud of myself, but I may have actually used Mario to pick up Cool’s Luigi and killed him by throwing him into a pit while shouting, “Fuck you Luigi you guido piece of shit!” Cool thought it was the funniest thing ever, but I’m moderately ashamed of my behavior in hind sight.

Before I’d ever played the game, I’d scolded Ace a few times about how she was talking to Cool while they played, but I get it now, Ace. I get it.

I was about to just say screw it all with the resolutions when I realized that it was pretty nice outside. By nice, I mean it was nice enough to go jogging without having to wear 47 layers of clothing, so I did that. I ran 7 miles and felt pretty darned good afterwards.

Since drinking beer rules and English is my second language behind Vulgar, a fitness goal will have to suffice. I like the word goal rather than resolution because it seems more tangible.

Regular readers know that weight loss is something that I kick around from time to time, ever since Cool called me fat one morning and this was put in front of my eyeballs, courtesy of a neighbor.

Yowzers!

Damn everybody with their cell phone cameras!

By avoiding a scale or mirrors while nude, it was pretty easy to convince myself that I looked fine, but there’s no getting around this here fella above being a mastodon instead of a healthy don. Ha, see what I did there?

The good news is that since this epic picture was taken, I’ve mostly eaten better and have jogged somewhere near 300 miles. In spite of abusing myself with beer and junk food for three “holiday” weeks, I’m still 20 pounds lighter than I was in this picture, and more importantly, I feel much better. I’m down to my last belt loop and confidently bought a pair of jeans a couple inches smaller around the waist than I’ve been buying.

Even so, there is still much to be done. My goal for January 1, 2015 is to have my fat ass under 200 pounds again. It’s been over a decade since I was there, but it’s where I’m meant to be. I’m not built to be big.

By going straight to a New Year’s post, I feel as though I’ve missed out on sharing a Christmas wrap up, so here’s what Christmas has brought to our house.

Here is Ace with her face in her new iPad mini (it happened, I know we suck, right?) while Cool watches.

photo 5 (2)

Here Cool has said, “fuck that noise, I’ll join her.”

Hello? Is anybody listening to daddy?

Hello? Is anybody listening to daddy?

Here we are just Daddy and the kids out to breakfast. Oh look, Ace is iPadding still. Is that a word?

Hello!?? No? Free puppy? Nothing? Ok then...

Hello!?? No? Free puppy? Nothing? Ok then…

Here are all the grandkids at grandma’s house. You get the idea yet?

Hooray, electronics!

Hooray, electronics!

It’s not as bad as it seems. Sometimes they stop to eat and to play the awful Wii game I mentioned above.

Having blown my wad on the aforementioned electronic devices that Santa was unable to produce for various reasons, saving money is also on the list of 2014 to do’s. With that in mind, step one is that the DOAT clan will be kicking cable to the curb for at least six months.  I’m interested to see how long we last before resorting to violence.

I hope all your hopes, goals, whatevers for 2014 come true for you and your family. To those of you who made 2013 so much online fun, thank you!!

Wish me luck!

*Holy cow, this post is under 1000 words! You’re welcome!

Posted in Family, Humor, Parenting, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 77 Comments

The 2014 New Year’s Easter Egg Hunt

My favorite French Canadian clown is having a little contest to kick off the new year. Go see if you can find all of his magical sci fi eggs and win some fabulous prizes. Yours truly may or may not be in the video somewhere.

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

A pretty special guy…

He was was a grown man, but he was short, even compared to the teens, preteens and little kids who surrounded him as I observed what he was doing.

Though he was short, he was thickly built, with muscled arms that tested the seams on the shirt sleeves he was wearing.

It was hot that afternoon, and I could see that he was sweating profusely.

The kids surrounding him were making a racket trying to get his attention, but for what, I wasn’t immediately sure. Just as the van with the bell on top came into my view, I locked eyes with him and he gave me a grin and a thumbs up to boot. The gold teeth in his mouth shone in the sun. Gold teeth don’t work for most people, in my opinion, but in his mouth, they just seemed appropriate. He had a huge, infectious smile, just as big as one of his biceps.

When the van came to a stop, I watched as he bought frozen treats for each and every kid who wanted one.

Word spreads fast in a housing project community, so what had started out as a few had grown to nearly 25 kids in no time. One by one they gave their order to the van driver. Some said thank you right away. Those who tried to run off without saying so were admonished by him to stop and say thank you before running off to enjoy their treat. After the first couple, they all knew the drill and dutifully said thanks before sprinting off to join their friends.

He patiently waited in the heat for each of them to be gone before paying the ice cream man and walking over to my car to chat.

“Thanks for coming by, Don.” He said.

“My pleasure, T.”

T had called out over the radio on a foot patrol in the projects. Foot patrols are simply things some officers like to do to get out and walk around a bit. It’s easier to meet people and visit with businesses on foot, rather than from a car.

I had stopped by as a courtesy to T. I simply wanted to make sure he was okay and that he didn’t need any help. It’s just a thing that officers do for each other that may not make sense to some in this context as you’re reading this. When an officer drives by your call, even if they don’t get out, they’re saying, “Hey, I see you and I’ve got your back.” It’s appreciated.

“Ima get back in my cruiser before I pass out from this heat, if you don’t mind.” He slapped the hood of my police car and got into his own before waving and driving off.

I had admired T for buying treats for those kids, and wondered if he did that often. I told myself that I would make an effort to do nice things like that for other people as well.

Fast forward several months to a cold winter Christmas Eve Day. I had completely forgotten about T buying ice cream in the projects several months prior.

T has again called out on a foot patrol in the very same projects, and because it’s a slow day, I’ve decided to go see what he’s doing.

When I finally find him standing on the porch of one of the small apartments, he is wearing his full police uniform, of course, along with an unauthorized Santa hat as well.

The son of a bitch has bought a good sized trash bag full of toys, wrapped them, and is now handing them out to kids who may or may not have any other gifts to open on Christmas Day. They were mostly dollar store gifts, but when you have nothing else, a dollar store gift means so much.

As before, word spread and kids started running out of apartments towards T and he catches me watching him again. Our eyes meet and he smiles that same gold plated smile at me as I sit in my warm car amazed and a little ashamed.

This time, I did make an honest effort to be a better person right away. I drove straight to a nearby store and bought several items to give out as well.

I bought some gloves and socks, tooth brushes, hats, sandwiches, bags of chips and some booze and headed towards where the homeless hang out.

If I could see the same thank you in the eyes of my kids when they open a $150 tablet as I did in the eyes of those men and women receiving a $2 pair of socks, I’d be a happy man. I gave out as many items as I could, including a couple of bottles of booze to two of my favorite homeless people. Some of you may judge me for contributing to such debauchery, but if you knew them, you’d relent with your criticism, I’m sure.

T was with me when I had my first code 1 call for a stabbing. That’s where we drive with lights and sirens on. I can still tell you the exact address of that call, even though it was 15 years ago. It’s funny what the brain remembers.

Now that I’m thinking about him, I recall that he collected money for a kid who was hit by a car while riding his bike. He bought that kid a new bike and ball glove and a stuffed bear. Sadly, that boy grew up to be a drug dealer. He lives in the same area where he was hit by that car when he was eight. I saw him and asked if he remembered that incident over a decade ago and he said, “No. I don’t remember no car hittin’ me, but I do know that a popo name T came to my hospital room and gave me a new glove and bike. Nobody ain’t never did shit like that for me before or since.”

T recognized people who needed his help the most and left an impression on a lot of people, myself included.

Posted in Police Stories, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 50 Comments

Christmas lights and other crap…yeah, it’s one of my pointless posts…

I took off from work today for no particular reason.

Ace had a strings recital (she takes violin in school though I’ve heard her practice it at home exactly twice in the two years she’s had it) in the cafeteria and has a half day, so I guess those are semi-particular reasons. Plus I had days to burn anyway before the end of the year, which is fast approaching.

Are you bored reading this post yet? I’m sort of bored typing it already for God’s sake.

I haven’t posted in a week (not that anybody notices or cares) and I get itchy to post when it’s been that long.

Sometimes, like right now, I just start typing whatever pops into my head and see where it goes.

I looked in my drafts folder and noticed that I have 70 drafts that I started at some point and then abandoned for various reasons. If the few that I read for inspiration are any indication, they were abandoned because they are awful pieces of crap, much like this post is turning into very quickly.

My housemates aren’t helping me either. Cool doesn’t have school on Thursdays, so instead of spending the $50 to ship them to the sitters all day, I have the Wii doing it for free. He loves this Wii machine. He loves all things electronic, really. It’s sort of creepy how good he’s always been with games and devices. I guess it comes more naturally to some than others.

Wii Wii Wii...always with the Wii...

Wii Wii Wii…always with the Wii…

The other one is butting heads with Carly (pup) as usual.

They kind of hate each other...

They kind of hate each other…

While Jojo lays around waiting for the angel of death. It’s either that or she’s waiting for somebody to feed her some sausage or ham, it’s hard to tell.

Feed me...

Feed me…

If you’re counting, that’s five of us all in a 10 foot area of each other, even though we live in a 1700 square foot house. There’s a lot of space to spread out, people!

Anyway, I think I’ll quit now. We have yet to put a Christmas tree up, so I may at least drag it inside, even if I don’t connect the three parts. We go with a plastic, fake tree all the way.

Maybe I’ll even add to the lights outside.

Speaking of lights, every year, there are one or two exceptionally nice, warm weekend days that suddenly appear a few weeks before Christmas.

Inevitably, my neighbors will climb onto their ladders and roofs in order to throw gaudy Christmas lights and inflatable Santa Clauses all over their houses and yards as I stand watch in my own yard with a cold beer in hand shaking my head at them in disgust.

“You’re wasting a beautiful day!” I shout to all of them, master of the obvious.

Sometimes, these warm days come before Thanksgiving, and that’s just way too early to put Christmas decorations on display.

No matter if they come before or shortly after Thanksgiving, the point is that it’s a nice day in late November or December, and nice days are in short supply so I’ll not waste them on a ladder. In fact, I think to myself, this year we will maybe do without Christmas decorations altogether. That sounds like a great idea in my head. I’m sure Wife will be on board with this because she hates wrestling with our piece of shit prelit tree that stopped prelighting, lighting or post lighting three or four years ago.

That plan sounds most excellent as I sit in my lawn chair eight beers into the warm for winter day. Alas, the next day, or the next week, or sometime thereafter, the guilt will be too much for me. All the neighbors’ pretty lights blink and glow and whisper, “Don, you’re an asshole. Your kids want lights. Put lights on your house.”

Fuck.

I know that I’m going to do it every year, but I always wait beyond those last couple of nice days and end up on my ladder and roof in the freezing cold, fumbling helplessly with clips and lights and duct tape and my beer.

This year is no exception. Ace was home sick last Monday, so I stayed home with her and got my fat ass out in the cold to toss some lights on the house. Sam’s Club had lights on sale the day before, so I bought a bunch of them so I’d not have to worry about the old strands not working.

Thankfully, it snowed and the roof was covered in ice so whatever couldn’t be reached with a ladder wasn’t going to happen. Unfortunately, today is a nice day and the snow and ice is gone from the roof. I have two spools of new lights taunting me, so I’m going to go climb onto the roof now and finish the job.

In case I don’t get around to posting before then or I fall from the roof and break my neck, Merry Christmas from the DOAT clan. Oh, sorry, Happy Holidays, in case Christmas offends you. You’re a douche if it does, but I’m still obliging because I’m the better person.

Cheers to you and yours!

It's actually freezing cold in this picture.

It’s actually freezing cold in this picture.

Posted in Family, Humor, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 93 Comments