Sunday, September 14, 2008
I dropped my motorcycle last week. I also happened to be on it, when it went down. Luckily for me, I was going at a very slow, probably less than 5 miles an hour. Although my leg was a bit bruised, along with the road rash, I was able to ride my motorcycle home. A friend mentioned that he received a worse injury, when he went over the handlebars of his bicycle.
I am having a very difficult time of getting a reputation as a badass. My probation officer laughed at me after my sentence, saying “You need to click more than a mouse to be a criminal. You have to click a gun.” I was hoping to get a little notch in my badass belt, by having a little scar from the motorcycle accident. However, it seems that my motorcycle laughed at me too!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
I went to my first & apparently last probation appointment today. The lobby was a cesspool of comedy. People in our society think that the vast majority of people on probation & parole are brown people. However, in my county, everyone is beige. I did not see anyone other than redneck white trash for the first hour of waiting for my probation lady. I obviously stuck out like a neon green condom, considering I had no tattoo on my forehead. Now, mind you, I have wanted to bond with my redneck white trash brethren from time to time. However, this was not what I had in mind.
Once I finally saw the probation lady, she was surprised at the amount of the fine, as well as the length of the sentence. I mentioned I was a media focus. We agreed the sentence was harsher as a result of the attention. In reality, I couldn’t care less, as long as I wasn’t in jail.
After asking me a few questions, such as what I did for a living & who I lived with, she said I needed to turn in some paperwork, I left behind & I would be done. When I asked for clarification on “done”, she responded that I was on administration probation. I do not have to visit on a regular basis, nor do I have to call in, or take drug tests. I have no restrictions on my lifestyle, except I have to notify her, if I move. Oh yeah, I can’t carry a firearm, get high, or beat the shit out of anyone. I guess I will have to cancel that part of my next spa visit!
As I was being moved from lock up to the Commissioner’s Office at 2am, the day of my arrest, in February, I was in handcuffs & ankle chains. As we were in the van, the guards transferring us insisted playing “What’s Your Crime?” One by one, they went through the roster of prisoners. (I insisted on being called a guest, since “prisoner” sounds so icky. Funny enough, the boys complied with a grin!)
Once they got to me, one said in a very game show like manner “Ladies & gentleman, what is her crime?” The others piped up, responding “tax evasion, IT theft, ID theft”. I asked “Since I am in these badass restraints, can I come up with a crime equally badass?” The guard responded with “We don’t care what you say, as long as you don’t tell us you killed cop!”
That’s one of the few moments in my life I was speechless.