CLOSING TIME

Well, the condo is empty except for an air mattress, my suit case, laptop, Nyx's Sherpa Bag (pet carrier), and uniform/equipment items to be turned in tomorrow.

Nyx at least likes sleeping in her carrier. I refused to let them put her underneath, so she's coming with me as carry on. I've seen those 20/20 episodes where they mistreat your animals when you send them riding in the belly. I heard it gets cold under there too. Fuck that! Not my baby. The extra $$$ is worth it, and I think Selene can get it reimbursed anyway.

In about two hours, I'll be getting my send off at the local FOP pool hall. At least my flight isn't until Saturday night. I will definitely need a day or two for recovery. If I get the urge, maybe I'll try some drunk posting later. Otherwise, it's goodbye until I'm settled out west.

Ya'll behave, and I'll be back in a week or two.

CRANKY TIMMY

I rarely dedicate an entire post about my work. Today I present ya'll with a treat. Someone got under my skin so badly today, and I can only say had he invoked "Magnum P.I." in our dealings, I would have been guilty of abusing my powers to the max. Instead, I went to 75% of maximum.

I worked midday patrol shift today, to cover someones vacation day. I haven't worked the rush hour in a very long time, and almost forgot how stupid some people get. When I look at the different shifts I've worked over the years, there is a very fine line between the average midday working Joe, and the shady overnight, hiding in the shadows Joe. Basically, the midday Joe is only one step removed from becoming the overnight Joe.

I responded to an injury accident at the mall with Fire & Rescue around 4:00. The accident itself was and act of stupidity, as a driver not wearing their seat belt, confused his gas pedal for the breaks, and ended up partially fused with his windshield, while his car lost a fight with a large metal dumpster.

When I arrived, Fire & Rescue were already on the scene, which was a fairly confined loading area to the mall offices, made that much more confined by three emergency vehicles. As I got out, someone in a BMW (7 series, very expensive) pulled up behind me. I asked him to please move because he was blocking me in. He explained he worked for the mall, and just needed to pick up some paperwork, and would be back in 2 minuets. I explained his car was obstructing an emergency vehicle, and that there were 200 perfectly usable parking spaces behind us.

Failing to see the gravity of his situation, he walked away from me towards the loading dock stairs, telling me he was a lawyer for the mall over his shoulder. As if that was supposed to mean something to me. Already being cranky because I was awake while the sun was still up, was not going to bode well for Mr. Lawyer. I switched to what my wife refers to as "Cranky Timmy" mode, and bellowed for him to move his fucking car, or take a trip in the back of mine.

Generally, 99.99% of the time, I will look at every alternative to arresting someone. If there is one thing I have never lost respect for, it's the power to strip an individual of every bit of personal freedom they have. Even for a minute. The human ability to redeem ones self is amazing, and I generally negotiate for that to happen, rather than needlessly snuffing it out.

Today, I threw that respect out the window. Four large strides...wrist lock...cuffs...frisk...liberated BMW keys...back seat. He sat speechless in the back seat while I moved his car to the parking lot. Then I went into the mall offices, spoke to a nice receptionist, retrieved his papers, and put them with his personal effects to be held until he was released.

I didn't say a word to this guy during our trip to the detention center, and technically I didn't need to. He went from weeping a bit, to apologizing, to threats of a law suit. I stayed quiet, but my mind was entertaining fantasies of...never mind...no need to be that graphic. Things would be spelled out for him, along with his rights, during processing.

It's very unusual for me to be pissed off about something like this for more than five minuets after it's over. But there are types of people you meet in life, who for no other reason than breathing, can rub you the wrong way. I drew Mr. Lawyer's straw today. If anything, he got a three hour reminder of how privileged his life really is. I hope he made some new friends.

God I hope I can find overnight work out West. I'm not sure the bay area is ready for "Cranky Timmy". Now I'm going to go take a nap, and hope I can loose this bad attitude.

FREE MUSTACHE RIDES...

...unless you want to pay me for one ;) Anyway, this post was semi-inspired by Jules and her post titled "Follicle Envy". In the comments, we...probably I, somehow got onto the subject of the 70's, mustaches, and how only certain men outside of that era can successfully look OK with a mustache...that is not look intentionally gay, creepy in a serial killer or molester sort of way, or...umm...moist. Moist is what my wife and I use to describe a man who is just generally creepy. You know the type. The ones who always seem to have that nasty sheen on their skin, a come hither and let me....use your own twisted imagination on that.

But I digress. Jules pointed out that Tom Selleck is one of those guys who can pull off a mustache outside of the 70's. But then again, I think Tom has been growing that thing since infantcy. His mustache, and his TV show Magnum P.I. launced an entire generation of jokes aimed at my profession, and anyone in the wan-a-be colum.

If I had a nickle for everytime I heard "Hey, Magnum!", or "Good job there Magnum.", or "Take these things off me you fucking Magnum P.I. wan-a-be!" I could cure world hunger. If I had a dime for everytime I though about beating the living shit out of someone spewing those words with my PR24, I could buy world peace.

While doing an image search for the PR24 so everyone would understand that I was talking about a fancy night stick, I came across the mustache rich photo below. I'll refrain from making a comment. I don't know if the guy is police or not, but if he is...well...let's just say I refrain from making any cracks about fellow brothers and sisters I know nothing about.

Finally, this move out west has me thinking about the 4 years Selene and I spent in Miami for some reason. Before I started shaving my head down there, I had a reasonable mop of neatly styled brown, and gray hair. While going through the hiring process for Miami-Dade, I even shaved my goatee. But I kept my mustache. Not only did Selene weep when I shaved my goat, she giggled, laughed out loud, and rolled on the floor lauging and crying all at the same time. Inbewteen laughing, and crying I believe the words "You...mustache...no goat...look...fucking...retarded..." came out staggared.

When she finally composed herself, she pointed out something interesting to me. With just my mustache, I looked exactly like 90% of all white male cops in Florida. WTF!?

MOTHER ALIEN

I think this blog's title needs some explaining. Don't worry, I'll still post dreams, especially alien dreams, but I think the underlying reason for many of my alien dreams is my mother.

Don't get me wrong, I love my mother dearly, but she is certifiable most days. There is a degenerative brain disease that runs on her side of the family. I have been screened, and cleared of it, but my mother has not. Despite all of us urging her to do so, and regularly.

She comes from a very large family. She has 5 brothers, and 8 sisters. She was #10. #2 and #3 have passed on. #4 and #8 are institutionalized because of said brain disease. but that's neither here nor there.

I'm not sure how got started on the idea that my mother is an alien. Actually I do. My wife loves my fathers side of the family, but can't spend more than 5 minuets with anyone on my mothers side. She has always referred to them as aliens from another planet. so that made me think:

• All of their names start with "A". So our first clue to the puzzle is "A".
• Her middle initial is "L". That's clue #2.
• Her mother's maiden name starts with an "I". Clue 3! You see the pattern forming?
• Her married name (my last name) starts with a "E". This is just getting creepy.
• I thought long and hard on this last one, and for the life of me I could not come up with "N". Then while talking to my wife about it, I found that the answer was there all along. My mothers birthday! November 14th! My wife further pointed out that "N" is the 14th letter of the alphabet, and after carefully counting on my fingers, "N" is indeed the 14th letter of the alphabet. To further make this creepy, she is 1 of 14 children!

So there you have it. My mother is an alien.

IM BACK!

Well I'm back on blogger anyway. I had intended to reopen my old blog once I was settled out west, but decided I would do it now, and maybe blog a little about my moving experience. One problem. Blogger ate my blog! I thought I had saved everything, down to the template. But all attempts to retrieve my old haunt lead to goooooogle's abyss. So screw it! I started a new blog. I'll be working on the template here, and there. This is by no means the final version.

Being I have so many dreams about aliens, and a need to apparently see them in my dreams, I felt the new title was appropriate also. What do you guys think? I'm looking for an appropriate title picture, so if ya'll run across something, let me know.

I'm all alone for now. The wife has set up shop in SF already, while I stay behind and tie up loose ends. My old partner is going to rent our condo, and maybe even buy it from us. My last official day of policing here is January 21. I'm still looking into possibilities in the bay area. I hit an age road block for the park police. That is, I'm five years older than their minimum standard. I'm not worried though, someone will take me eventually. Or I'll take partial retirement, and do something else.

I hope everyone had a great new year, as well as a very Merry Christmas! I'm off to catch up with everyone, but before I go, and as promised...caption Nyx for the month! I know, my phone camera sucks. This was taken the other day. I came home from working out, threw my clothes on the bathroom floor, and got in the shower. When I got out, there she was sawing logs in my nasty sweat drenched sweat pants: