Lost Reality Check #1 - Good Cop, Dumb Cop.

I've decided to finally start posting some of my 'lost' Reality Check blogs-drafts finally after the unrelenting pressure of my massive reader base. Let me clarify that lost has nothing to do with the awesome (but extremely frustrating) television show, Lost. It simply means that these are old/outdated Reality Check posts which I had originally written some time ago but forgotten to publish. This is usually due to the fact that I essentially only blog when I'm wasted because its more fun and then save the post but forget to publish it moreoften than not.

Good Cop, Dumb Cop
This one happened slightly over two months ago, right around/after Christmas. I was over at the Douglas residence, playing one of my favorite games: You Honk, We Drink. Incase the name didn't suffice as a description it basically entails a bunch of people sitting in a yard near the road with a huge cardboard sign that reads 'U HONK WE DRINK' on it. It's a great game because not only do we get to drink and subsequently get enjoyment and drunk of course from it but lots of drivers have a fun time with it too. Unfortunately some of the neighbors accross the street don't share this sentiment; And continually call the police whenever we are trying to enjoy ourselves playing this game. We'd been playing for probably an hour-and-a-half to almost two hours when two police cars rolled up and parked in front of us, and the sign. Clearly the Huntersville PD has lots of important things to do when two cars show up for some young guys with a fucking sign in their yard. I was already slightly drunk and more than slightly pissed off at this point. So the officers, a woman and a man, get out of their cars and Jarred, whose mother owns the land, asks them what the problem is. The female officer is being cordial and polite about the entire affair and tries to explain the problem to us, that everytime someone complains theyre obligated to respond. Jarred informs her that we're, obviously, doing nothing wrong; And that if we take the sign down people will still honk anyhow. Then the male officer chimes in. "You're drinking in public. This is public intoxication." I'd had enough at this point so I immediately chimed in "how is this public intoxication? He owns this property and this sign is also on his property?" As this officer was clearly an idiot he would continue to try and rationalize his clearly dumb and wrong statement. "How exactly could this be construed as public intoxication?" I asked him once again. He clearly didn't have an actual answer so he pulled out his handcuffs and asked 'is someone tryin' to get arrested today?' Jarred who was talking to the female officer quickly chimed in and said no. I of course, was still perturbed and was wondering what exactly we had done wrong. So I again asked the officer "how is this public drunkeness? We're on private property?" He responded "Anytime anyone can see you drinking at all, it's public drunkeness." This statement was clearly 100% bullshit which only made me want to retaliate further. "No it's not..." I responded. "Are you telling me if I'm sitting in my house with all the windows open and someone happens to see me from the street then that's public intoxication?" Of course I asked him this with the expectation he'd finally give in and say no because he had already made a fool out of himself. Then he said "yes." So then I asked "so essentially, unless you're in a room with closed doors and no windows you can be arrested for public intoxication?" Then he asks me what I do for a living. I inform him that I'm a student. He then starts bobbing his head like a fucking moron, somehow pleased at my reply for some, I'm sure, retarded illogical reason. "What's your major?" he asks. At this point I freeze up for about a second. I don't want to say psychology because it'll just play into the exact traditional blue-collar interpretation of anything to do with the science, not that there is anything wrong with blue collar jobs. "So what are you majoring in?" he asked me again. "Street fighting." I said. And stared at him comletely straight faced, while everyone around me laughed. He immediately reached for his handcuffs and commented "well you're about to get a test in that today." When Jarred interjected and said "psychology." And then he just smiled and did his retarded ass overconfident head bob-thing again. "I knew it had to be psychology or law," he claimed. Yeah. I'm sure... Anyhow we finally took the sign down but the best part was yet to come. Both cops got back in there cars (while people were still honking at us, and we were still drinking) and then while the female cop was driving off she layed on the horn the entire time she was pulling away, while the male cop just drove off silently like a fucking prick, who was clearly mad. Yet another cop getting a...
Reality Check.

Flashlight

Before I started blogging I had sort of an unofficial-agreement with myself that none of my blogs would be sports related in anyway whatsoever. Mostly because 99% of sports blogs are so laden with fucking lame pop-culture crossover references theyre unbearable to read. And that most of the bloggers are huge fucking faggot ass tools. But I'll have to make an exception to my own rule to set up the context of this post.
I started drinking, hard, around 9am on Sunday. In preparation for the Nascar race of course. I was confident Jeff Gordon was going to do well, given he, along with Jimmy Johnson, is basically the best at "cookie-cutter" tracks, aka mile-and-a-half ovals. And of course he did do well. He led almost every single lap of the race, but the one that counted.. the last lap. I have a short temper to begin with but given that Gordon had lost, toward the end because of a bad call by his crewchief after he had led the entire race I was clearly pissed. The fact that I had drank around 12 Beast Lights just during the race probably didn't help this fact. I flipped out and this is where, I think, the flashlight incident happened. I can't say for sure because as soon as Gordon lost I chugged a couple of beers and semi-blacked out, aside from remembering parts of the flashlight incident. A 'Nascar nap' aka passout was definately imminent.
I wake up on my couch and look over the the clock on my iHome. My eyes are still tired as hell. It's 12:30. I immediately think damn, how am I this tired if I slept that long, until about a half a second later when I realized it was 12:30 AM, the middle of the night. The fact that no ambient sunlight was coming into my far basement window (I have the window near my computer blocked by cardboard 'blinds,' which consist of both Totino's and Milwaukee's Best Light boxes taped over the entire window) tipped me off to this fact pretty quickly. Damnit I think. I'm immediately frustrated by this blow to the schedule of my already screwed up circadian rhythm, especially since I know I won't be able to fall back asleep anytime soon. So I finally get the motivation to get up off the couch I had passed out on to go turn on nearest light switch. Then I notice a couple of things. The left side of my left foot hurts like hell and I'm almost hobbling on it to attempt to walk. I then notice several shards of some reflective material which appeared to be glass, broken glass of course, shining the ambient light coming from my computer back at me. It was at this point I noticed the bruise I had on my inner-right bicep. I'm not really one to complain about bruises, injuruies or pain but I have absolutely no clue how a person would get bruises in these two places. The outside of a left-foot and then the inside of a right bicep. I just can't even comprehend how either would happen accidentally. So I finally flick on the light switch. I see shards of broken glass all over the floor. I'm initially confused. After gathering all the shards I walk over to the garbage can and see a fucked up flashlight lying in the garbage bag and remembered some of my previous destruction. When I subsequently looked at the dent in my door my suspicions were confirmed. I had gotten so mad that Jeff Gordon had lost the Nascar race earlier that I for some reason took a flashlight and threw it as hard as I possibly could against my basement (metal) door. Which I guess isn't all bad since if I threw it against anything else there would be a massive hole in the wall. The thing that intrigues me most is why I chose a flashlight among the huge array of other, harder unbreakable metal things. I'm guessing it was just blind rage but unfortunately this is a question I will probably never know the true answer to. Hopefully these winter storms don't get more severe because if the lights go out now I'll be stuck in the dark and I'll have given myself, yet another, reality check.