Jarrod's thread that has nothing to do with cars, and is completley usless...
9/27/07, 01:06 PM
#21
thats not what i had in mind.... i aint worried about the prison it self, but the guy named Ben Dover. i hear you dont want to make him mad, he might tear you up... lmao!!!
9/27/07, 01:07 PM
#22
9/27/07, 10:44 PM
#23
hmm... im so hiper! lol i had dr pepper and pizza! haha so im jsut now waking up! hah! its like 11:44pm/// wow
9/28/07, 02:02 PM
#24
You need to go to bed earlier.
9/28/07, 02:03 PM
#25
well i usually do, but we were up all night, and i had lots of caffine... so ya.
9/28/07, 02:14 PM
#26
Hmmmmm......I guess I'm gonna have to talk to your mother.
9/28/07, 02:17 PM
#27
What did the five fingers say to the X? "Here's a letter from my lawyer!"
9/28/07, 02:18 PM
#28
THose are some freakin loud five fingers you have there. 
9/28/07, 08:52 PM
#29
What did the 5 fingers say to paul?? well 4 of them said nothing and sat down..the middle one stood up with pride
10/15/07, 02:56 PM
#30
tacos
10/15/07, 04:12 PM
#31
Hemoglobin afterburn
10/15/07, 04:20 PM
#32
cheeesseeee burner
10/15/07, 04:21 PM
#33
rice burner
10/15/07, 04:57 PM
#34
One of my Grabber Orange buddies from IOWA got arrested this weekend... this is a true story and is one of the funniest things I have read in a long time..... enjoy
"So, I am officially a hardened criminal. Ok, maybe not officially, I don't really know what that takes. I don't know if there is someone somewhere keeping a record of such things. Probably there is, and what a sad and depressing life that must be.
Nor do I know how hardened I am. Certainly not enough that I still don't relish the thought of peeing in front of others, let alone 7 other men. Definitely not enough that I helped contribute to a jail cells nickname, the "pokey." I'll leave that to the other gentlemen, a term I use incorrectly, who were sprawled around the decorative cement fixtures that adorned the same cell.
How did it come to pass, you may ask? Well, why don't you take a few minutes to guess, while I go get some more tuna casserole.
What's that? Public intox? A reasonable guess, provided my penchant for beer. But no, you would be wrong. I prefer to do my drinking alone, in a dark basement.
It's somehow comforting...
I didn't have the dogs licensed.
That's right.
Well...I didn't have them licensed, and forgot to take care of the ticket. Hence, a warrant for my arrest. Can't have scofflaws like me driving around, it would cause unneccessary traffic snarls for the douch canoe driving to Walmart to purchase sudafed for use in manufacturing crack. Those people have a schedule to keep, you know.
The officer pulled me over because my brake light was out. Which was nice of her, I suppose. Of course, I would have prefered she pulled me over to present me with a plaque for Most Courteous Signalling. Or she had a plate of chocolate chip cookies. "The reason I pulled you, sir, is I have this plate of cookies, and I just ate, and there's no sense in them going to waste, and you looked hungry. I could tell by the way hungrily signaled your last left turn."
We went through the typical exchange one encounters when being pulled over. If you've never been pulled over, you're lying. At any rate, the first thing they ask is "A/S/L?" The correct reply is always "28, yes please, and right here." I dare you...
After handing over my license, registration and proof of insurance, we were left to watch traffic fly by, the drivers who were no doubt thinking, "Ah, poor f%^&er. What a lousy way to spend a Saturday afternoon." At least that's what I think when I see someone pulled over. That, and "Better him than me." About 6 hours later, the officer came back to the car.
"Sir, can I get your ssn?" This did not bode well...I looked her in the eye, waved my hand, and said, "These are not the droids you're looking for." When that didn't work, I gave her my ssn, then asked if there was a problem. Her reply was, "Well, that's what I'm trying to figure out. Hang loose." She might as well have said, "Pooloo se magomba", which, if you've never seen Gilligan's Island, means, "The natives are restless." What she meant to say was, "There's a big problem, you should notify your next of kin, and make sure you have some cork for your a$$." Oh, Andy...it was the longest night of his life...
She had me step from the car. When an officer says "Would you step from the car, please?" your bowels immediately tighten. Cars flew by, and the officer tried to explain what was going on. Unfortunately, my mind went somewhere else, and was replaced by the soundtrack to "French Connection." I was pretty stunned, to say the least, and had no real idea how to procede. I tried to explain to <my wife> what was going on...here's where it got trickier. Apprantly her license is under suspension, perhaps for fighting in the hallway. We don't know why. At any rate, she couldn't follow me...what she had to do was pull the car up around the corner and wait. Never MIND that there was a giant, mall parking lot RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET.
So...while the officer cuffed me (of course they cuffed me, but never were any whips employed; I feel cheated), <my wife> tried to find someone to come get her and help out. The officer, who was actually VERY nice, drove me to the Des Moines/West Des Moines city limits. It was the Des Moines police who had issued my warrant...and this is where it started to get a little funny.
She asked me about me about the warrant. "Did your dogs bite someone?" No, I explained...we didn't have registration/shot tags on the dogs.
She just stared at me in the rear view mirror. Finally she said, "Well...I guess the Des Moines police are a little more strict than we are...still..." then just trailed off. Indeed, this was the reaction I got from any officer when asked why there was I had been arrested. At least 4 different officers asked...and had the same reaction.
The real comedy came in her filling out her paperwork. Typical questions folllowed, like date of birth, city of birth...
Then....
"Shoe size?" Really, ma'am, it's not at all related to ***** size...I swear.
"Right or left handed?" Right, but I like to sit on my hand until it falls asleep, then **********. It's...dirtier.
"Own any firearms?" Well...what do you need?
Upon arriving at the county jail, we were escorted into one entrance, then into a narrow hallway. On one side of the hallway were offices, computer terminals. Apparantly where the officers sat and didn't do any work, judging by the amount of time it took to be "booked in." That's prison lingo, by the way. Just a little peek into the underground workings of prison life, or as we call it, the slammer. They had me stand against a wall, removed my cuffs, and patted me down. This is not near as attractive as it sounds, although when he moved my sac from one side to the other, I think I moaned. It was probably gas, though. Then they directed me to another room, and had me change from my clothes to prison garb.
Here's an interesting bit of trivia. Many of the clothes and hygiene items used in a prison are courtesy of none other than Bob Barker. Truly. really! In fact, on many of the little boxes and bags in the middle hallway was the name "Bob Barker." And now that you know that, what will you do? So I changed down from my clothes, even my underwear, and put on prison issue clothes. Including a really crappy, ill fitting pair of sandals. I spent much of the evening trying to get my toes to squeeze in...when I wasn't praying.
From there, I was put in the jail cell. There was another guy in there, who originally said he was there for a DUI. As the evening progressed and more and more people were put in the cell with us, his story got more complicated and more impressive. I imagine by the time he posted bail, he had confessed to the killing of Jimmy Hoffa. By the time I was bailed out, there were 8 people in there. None of whom believed they deserved to be there. And then they'd ask me..."Whatcho' in fo'?" And when I'd tell them, they'd just stop and blankly look at me, then across the hall. One guy just said, "Dude, that's messed up."
I sat most of the evening...I'm not sure what time I got there, somewhere around 6, I guess, and I was released shortly after 11. I decided to channel Andy Dufresne, and sat quietly, a little forced smile on my face, and thinking to myself, "They expect us to pee in THAT?!" The toilet, to be clear, was right there. There was a partition the size of a tea cup to provide ample privacy. On the back of the toilet was a water fountain. I am NOT making that up, it was directly connected to the toilet. I finally broke down, and used the toilet, but there was no WAY I was going to get a drink.
Finally, after eternity and a day, a woman came, opened the door and asked, "Paul?" Funny, when I arrived, the guy asked how to pronounce my name. After that, they would look at the paperwork, and say, "Wa...Paul?" I was walked down the hall, signed some forms, given my personals and then allowed to walk free. As I opened the outer door, I saw my Flower standing on the sidewalk, waiting for me. I was nearly crying at this point, so relieved, so tired, so exhausted...yet I had to know. There was one question burning in my briain.
"Is Bush still President?"
Her answer was yet another crushing disappointment..."
"So, I am officially a hardened criminal. Ok, maybe not officially, I don't really know what that takes. I don't know if there is someone somewhere keeping a record of such things. Probably there is, and what a sad and depressing life that must be.
Nor do I know how hardened I am. Certainly not enough that I still don't relish the thought of peeing in front of others, let alone 7 other men. Definitely not enough that I helped contribute to a jail cells nickname, the "pokey." I'll leave that to the other gentlemen, a term I use incorrectly, who were sprawled around the decorative cement fixtures that adorned the same cell.
How did it come to pass, you may ask? Well, why don't you take a few minutes to guess, while I go get some more tuna casserole.
What's that? Public intox? A reasonable guess, provided my penchant for beer. But no, you would be wrong. I prefer to do my drinking alone, in a dark basement.
It's somehow comforting...
I didn't have the dogs licensed.
That's right.
Well...I didn't have them licensed, and forgot to take care of the ticket. Hence, a warrant for my arrest. Can't have scofflaws like me driving around, it would cause unneccessary traffic snarls for the douch canoe driving to Walmart to purchase sudafed for use in manufacturing crack. Those people have a schedule to keep, you know.
The officer pulled me over because my brake light was out. Which was nice of her, I suppose. Of course, I would have prefered she pulled me over to present me with a plaque for Most Courteous Signalling. Or she had a plate of chocolate chip cookies. "The reason I pulled you, sir, is I have this plate of cookies, and I just ate, and there's no sense in them going to waste, and you looked hungry. I could tell by the way hungrily signaled your last left turn."
We went through the typical exchange one encounters when being pulled over. If you've never been pulled over, you're lying. At any rate, the first thing they ask is "A/S/L?" The correct reply is always "28, yes please, and right here." I dare you...
After handing over my license, registration and proof of insurance, we were left to watch traffic fly by, the drivers who were no doubt thinking, "Ah, poor f%^&er. What a lousy way to spend a Saturday afternoon." At least that's what I think when I see someone pulled over. That, and "Better him than me." About 6 hours later, the officer came back to the car.
"Sir, can I get your ssn?" This did not bode well...I looked her in the eye, waved my hand, and said, "These are not the droids you're looking for." When that didn't work, I gave her my ssn, then asked if there was a problem. Her reply was, "Well, that's what I'm trying to figure out. Hang loose." She might as well have said, "Pooloo se magomba", which, if you've never seen Gilligan's Island, means, "The natives are restless." What she meant to say was, "There's a big problem, you should notify your next of kin, and make sure you have some cork for your a$$." Oh, Andy...it was the longest night of his life...
She had me step from the car. When an officer says "Would you step from the car, please?" your bowels immediately tighten. Cars flew by, and the officer tried to explain what was going on. Unfortunately, my mind went somewhere else, and was replaced by the soundtrack to "French Connection." I was pretty stunned, to say the least, and had no real idea how to procede. I tried to explain to <my wife> what was going on...here's where it got trickier. Apprantly her license is under suspension, perhaps for fighting in the hallway. We don't know why. At any rate, she couldn't follow me...what she had to do was pull the car up around the corner and wait. Never MIND that there was a giant, mall parking lot RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET.
So...while the officer cuffed me (of course they cuffed me, but never were any whips employed; I feel cheated), <my wife> tried to find someone to come get her and help out. The officer, who was actually VERY nice, drove me to the Des Moines/West Des Moines city limits. It was the Des Moines police who had issued my warrant...and this is where it started to get a little funny.
She asked me about me about the warrant. "Did your dogs bite someone?" No, I explained...we didn't have registration/shot tags on the dogs.
She just stared at me in the rear view mirror. Finally she said, "Well...I guess the Des Moines police are a little more strict than we are...still..." then just trailed off. Indeed, this was the reaction I got from any officer when asked why there was I had been arrested. At least 4 different officers asked...and had the same reaction.
The real comedy came in her filling out her paperwork. Typical questions folllowed, like date of birth, city of birth...
Then....
"Shoe size?" Really, ma'am, it's not at all related to ***** size...I swear.
"Right or left handed?" Right, but I like to sit on my hand until it falls asleep, then **********. It's...dirtier.
"Own any firearms?" Well...what do you need?
Upon arriving at the county jail, we were escorted into one entrance, then into a narrow hallway. On one side of the hallway were offices, computer terminals. Apparantly where the officers sat and didn't do any work, judging by the amount of time it took to be "booked in." That's prison lingo, by the way. Just a little peek into the underground workings of prison life, or as we call it, the slammer. They had me stand against a wall, removed my cuffs, and patted me down. This is not near as attractive as it sounds, although when he moved my sac from one side to the other, I think I moaned. It was probably gas, though. Then they directed me to another room, and had me change from my clothes to prison garb.
Here's an interesting bit of trivia. Many of the clothes and hygiene items used in a prison are courtesy of none other than Bob Barker. Truly. really! In fact, on many of the little boxes and bags in the middle hallway was the name "Bob Barker." And now that you know that, what will you do? So I changed down from my clothes, even my underwear, and put on prison issue clothes. Including a really crappy, ill fitting pair of sandals. I spent much of the evening trying to get my toes to squeeze in...when I wasn't praying.
From there, I was put in the jail cell. There was another guy in there, who originally said he was there for a DUI. As the evening progressed and more and more people were put in the cell with us, his story got more complicated and more impressive. I imagine by the time he posted bail, he had confessed to the killing of Jimmy Hoffa. By the time I was bailed out, there were 8 people in there. None of whom believed they deserved to be there. And then they'd ask me..."Whatcho' in fo'?" And when I'd tell them, they'd just stop and blankly look at me, then across the hall. One guy just said, "Dude, that's messed up."
I sat most of the evening...I'm not sure what time I got there, somewhere around 6, I guess, and I was released shortly after 11. I decided to channel Andy Dufresne, and sat quietly, a little forced smile on my face, and thinking to myself, "They expect us to pee in THAT?!" The toilet, to be clear, was right there. There was a partition the size of a tea cup to provide ample privacy. On the back of the toilet was a water fountain. I am NOT making that up, it was directly connected to the toilet. I finally broke down, and used the toilet, but there was no WAY I was going to get a drink.
Finally, after eternity and a day, a woman came, opened the door and asked, "Paul?" Funny, when I arrived, the guy asked how to pronounce my name. After that, they would look at the paperwork, and say, "Wa...Paul?" I was walked down the hall, signed some forms, given my personals and then allowed to walk free. As I opened the outer door, I saw my Flower standing on the sidewalk, waiting for me. I was nearly crying at this point, so relieved, so tired, so exhausted...yet I had to know. There was one question burning in my briain.
"Is Bush still President?"
Her answer was yet another crushing disappointment..."
10/15/07, 05:29 PM
#35
great jarrod, what a waist of my time... that disgusted me. i am officially sickend from what i heard. sooo anyone in the mood for tacos?
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