A Speeding Ticket after 28 Years

I will immediately admit that it was totally my fault.  Saying that, let me quote my son: “Let’s take Hwy 19; it’s two lane, 55 mph all the way there.”

I got my first speeding ticket in over 28 years.  Dammit.  I was so pissed. Of course it was in this dinky ass town called Plummersville and the end of the month and blah, blah, blah. I had never been there before and trust me, will never go there again.

I was cited for going 52 in a 35.  Which I know was not true because there was the 45 mph and then BAM!  50 feet later was the sign for 35 mph.  (They may be a small town but not stupid in knowing ways to obtain money).

When I went online to look up my fine, it was $180.00. WTF!   Surely they jest.  Figuring that I could at least reduce the amount of the ticket, I duly put the date for traffic court on my Outlook calendar and planned on presenting my side of the story (not including my son’s stupid advice).

Used GPS to find the courthouse. Drove by the damn thing three times before finally rolling down my window and asking someone.  “This is it,” they told me.  I was dumbfounded.  Never would have even guessed.

Because this “courthouse” was definitely more like a community hall/fire station/employee lounge/after school program room.  Not kidding.  Because all I could see were metal folding chairs and tables, a microwave and fridge and several cheery religious signs on the wall.  When I walked in, I asked someone where I signed in.  They just looked at me.  “You don’t,” they said.  So I just sat down.

I seriously wanted to take a picture but with the many cops and a few other employees, I was definitely afraid of saying or doing anything other than sitting on that damn uncomfortable metal chair.  And checking my work email because I certainly had other things I could be doing.

Finally the “judge” (I have to use the term loosely here) got the rollie chairs from the lounge area and set up at the folding table at the front of the room.  As the court employee called out names, no one responded.  Finally, after several of these, the judge announced that everyone could just line in up in alphabetical order and he would speak with each person.

When my name was called, I went up the front and explained that I was “not going 52 in a 35; but would agree that I was going 52 in a 45.”

The judge’s response was; “Hon, it doesn’t matter how fast you were going, if you plead guilty you will pay the fine.”

“I respectfully request that you do not call me ‘hon’ and to clarify—it wouldn’t matter if I were in a 35 or 45 mph zone, the fine would be the same?”

“No, if you were going 20 mph over the speed limit, you would also have been cited for reckless driving.  How do you plead?”

“Guilty and do you take credit cards?”

“Yes, pay the clerk $180.00.” (Wait, this gets better)

So I go to the cop-clerk and hand him my ticket and credit card. He looks at me and then says he isn’t sure he can process the credit card because “the last time I tried to do it, the entire card was ruined.”

“But I was told you could take a credit card.”

“Well, we can but Doris has to do it.”

“And where is Doris?”

“Up there with the judge so you’ll have to wait until she is done.”

Now, mind you my last name is at the beginning of the alpha so I REALLY did not want to hang around for another 30 minutes.  And I didn’t bring my Jimmy Dean frozen sausage biscuit to cook in the microwave.

“Now,” the cop-clerk continued.  “You could go to the Country Store and use the ATM to get cash.  I can take that.”

“You have to be bloody kidding me,” I muttered as I left the room, got in my car and drove to the Country Store and used their ATM.

I returned to the courthouse/after school center/church fellowship hall with my cash and proceeded to the cop-clerk again. By this time “Doris” was free and could have taken my credit card but since I now had cash, this wasn’t an issue. I did feel obligated to tell Doris that cop-clerk needed to obviously have training on taking credit card payments. She didn’t care.

Here is a picture of the outside of the courthouse.  If I had waited 10 minutes, I could have included the judge smoking a cigarette next to the vending machine.

If you look really close, you can see the paper “Court House” sign taped to the door.



Waiting on an Egg McMuffin

I love going through McDonald’s drive thru and getting my $1.00 large drink.  I am especially happy when I reach the pay window and some really smart McDonald’s worker has my drink ready so I don’t have to drive to the second window.  That is definitely some forward thinking for a fast food employee!  Those are probably the ones who get promoted to Pizza Hut.

Lately I have been on an Egg McMuffin kick.  But when I order it at 7:00 pm, they never have one ready to go.  Which, if one thinks about it, is probably a good thing, right?

So today I jump in the first drive thru lane and wait my turn.  And wait.  And wait a bit more.  You know, I think there is a fast food conspiracy going on lately.  What happens is that it is your turn and you roll up to the order speaker.  And wait.  No one says in a sweet chipper voice: “Welcome to McDonald’s!  May I take your order please?”

No, you don’t get that because all the fast food workers have banded together and said “Hey! Let’s wait and see how long a customer will sit and wait before telling us their order.” (The stupid part was implied, of course)

I don’t wait very long. Probably 3 nano-seconds. And then I’m all “HELLO!”  I guess that is all it takes to make them behave again.   As an aside, did you know that the way they can tell which car has which order is because a picture of your car shows up on the screen with your order?  I didn’t either!  So how cool would it be to get about 10 blue Rav4 Toyota SUV’s and everyone line up at the drive thru at the same time and have the exact same order with a couple of variations?  I mean, who doesn’t like messing with fast food workers, right?

At any rate, I order my drink and Egg McMuffin and invariably I am told I have to go park in DRIVE THRU SPACE #1 and they will bring out my Egg McMuffin. I am rather glad about that because at least you know you will be getting a freshly made one.

egg mcmuffin

So I park in my designated special fast food parking spot and sip on my drink.  And wait.  And wait.  Still waiting.  Finally, after one Katy and 2 Beiber songs, I am starting to get a bit pissed.  Time to take action.

I pick up my phone: “McDonald’s near me.” Up pops a McDonald’s – and it’s 11 feet away!  So I dial.  When my cheery fast food worker answers the phone, I calmly and politely ask if she has forgotten the car in drive thru spot #1 waiting on an Egg McMuffin.  There is a pause and then I hear this whole conversation in the background:

“I already gave it to her.”

“Well, she says she never got it and has been waiting  a long time.”

“I swear I did it.”

“Wait, did you give it to the other car in spot 2?”

“Well, maybe.  Probably.”

Suddenly remembering I was still on the phone, I get an apology and told my order will be out ASAP.

So I finally got my Egg McMuffin. And I wasn’t even pissy to the little girl who brought it to me (and I got a refund as well – totally didn’t expect that).  I told the girl to please keep an eye on the cars in Drive thru spots 1, 2 & 3. If any car is there longer than 3 minutes, she should follow up on their order.

And maybe, just maybe she can work at Pizza Hut one day.

LWL Week in Pictures

I am not sure why Casey walked straight into the bathroom and lay (laid?) down.  I felt like he was trying to tell me something but I was dumb and didn’t get it.  Casey lay

For some reason I don’t think they are just being nice and feeding the hungry deer. Seems like cheating to me.

deer feeder

I never removed my name from Zillow after we bought our house so I still get emails with pictures of houses for sale from them.

I thought this picture was a little weird:

Pantry bath

I mean, did they really mean to keep all the cleaning supplies in the picture?

And I have been saving this one as well.  There is so much you can learn about the owners of the house from this.  I loved all the Doritos and Ritz Crackers and 7up and then front and center a big ole bag of Peanut M&M’s.  AND they have a dog.   Now THAT is a pantry I can relate to!

!Pantry Sell

My husband said I could spend only $5.00 at a local flea market.  I spent $2.75.  Look at all I got:  The Toaster was a quarter and was brand new. The earrings were .50.  Yes, they look like crap but are actually pretty nice – I just had to disinfect them for three days.  And Dave Barry stories reminds me of when used to write for the Miami Herald. Of course the exercise weights was an impulse purchase for $1.00.

Garage sale

And Finally:  I asked my husband who won the fight?  Floyd or Mayweather?  I found out today why my question irritated him.

My Shopping – Revisited

I got in trouble again for my poor shopping habits. But this time it was REALLY, REALLY bad.  And the reason I know it was REALLY bad is because not only did I get a lecture – it also came with a detailed, dated spreadsheet.  Trust me, when my husband resorts to a spreadsheet to prove a point, well, you just don’t want to go there.

The issue (because my husband had one, of course) was that I spent over $900 in less than 2 weeks at Kroger. (But wait! He wasn’t done yet).  Which means annualized, I am projected to spend over $20,000 this year in groceries and other various sundries FROM A GROCERY STORE.

kroger spend


(And yes the picture is blurry – but trust me, all it says is Kroger $178.00; Kroger $236.00; Kroger $189.00; Kroger $67.00; Kroger $312.00 (In my defense, I probably took cash out on that one); Kroger $212.00.

And not only was I forced to go get my reading glasses so I could actually review the damn thing, it got posted on the refrigerator like some kind of public shaming of my debit card use at Kroger. I mean, this spreadsheet had dates and totals and formulas and the last 4 digits of every card I used. I immediately lost interest. I. Got. The. Message. Okay?

My husband has been insisting that I use a grocery list when I go to the store and STICK TO THE LIST. But I just can’t. I am such an impulse buyer.  And a forgetful one as well.  I swear we have 6 boxes of spaghetti, 23 packets of taco seasoning (because I only like Taco Bell brand and it is hard to find), 10 boxes of pudding, cereal from 2016 and a boat load of tuna fish that I bought just for the cat.  (Which BTW the cat does not like but how was I to know that). However,  I do have a system.  Periodically my work or our mail carrier has a food drive so I clean out the pantry and Viola! Empty and clean pantry.  Which means I get to start all over again.

At any rate, I do have to do better because even I know this is bad.  I felt so bad, I even texted Michael: “Permission to go to store and buy garlic bread and dog food.” I received permission but then felt guilty because I also bought apple juice, bacon, Q-tips and Bounce. But I swear I tried. I really did.

I wonder how long the list has to remain on the refrigerator.

LWL Musings #29

I went to Walmart this weekend.  When I started putting my purchases on the check out conveyor I noticed this big wet spot right in the middle of the belt.

“Excuse me,” I said the the check out person, “can you clean that up?”

The check out guy pushed the belt button and moved the conveyor belt so the spot  didn’t show up anymore.  Then we looked at each other.

“You do know that it is just going to show back up again, right?”

I mean, I know it’s Walmart, but a check out person should still have standards. He was just lucky I had purchased paper towels.


My dog, Abbey has decided that when my daughter’s boyfriend comes over, she would rather stay with him than me. That’s okay, I’m not the jealous pet parent type.  So when he had a birthday, I specifically got him a card and present from Abbey.

It was a package of Nutty Bars and a chew bone.

The card said: “Happy Birthday!  You got some Nutty Bars and a chew bone. Wait. What? You got a chew bone?  I LOVE CHEW BONES!  Can I have your chew bone? Love, Abbey.    P.S. Boca didn’t get you shit.”


My son got stranded in some stupid county town and after a week of not finding a way back home, he asked if I could come get him.  “It’s only an hour and a half away,” he told me.  Wrong. It was THREE hours away.  I certainly did not plan on a 6-hour drive in Deliverance County.  On the way home he changed the radio station. I immediately put it back on my IPOD and said: “If I am driving 6 hours to get you, you are listening to Barry Manilow the entire drive home.”  He immediately fell asleep.


Why is it so difficult to purchase a rug?  I really wish there were choices other than blah and ugly.Rugs


I feel like Boca-cat is losing his edge.  He actually killed a big ass frog and left it in the kitchen. Boy, I remember the days when he would kill Humming Birds for entertainment.  But maybe it was just a slow night…



You Don’t Diss Wonder Woman

It all started so innocently with my husband informing me that I was personally responsible for ruining the movie Logan for him.  Because of me, the movie plot had to contain ALL the backstory for the new watcher to understand the premise of the film.  In other words, because I had no idea about the “X-Men” or the “Wolverine,” the movie had to cater to me and explain the backstory.  In too much detail. Which, according to my husband, completely ruined the movie for him.


My husband asked me if I even knew who played the Wolverine.

“I do know,” I replied.  “It is Hugh Jackman and I watched him in Les Mesirables.”

For some reason that just seemed to irritate him even more.

But wait.

Then we started discussing superheros in general. I told him I wouldn’t mind seeing Wonder Woman.  And she was a Super Hero, right?


And this set us off on a whole new tangent.  Because according to my husband, Wonder Woman does not deserve a place on the “Super Hero” train.

“And why is that,” I asked?

“Because she isn’t real.” He answered. “She has no real story.”

“Like the other Super Hero’s are real?”


Okay, so it was on.  He can’t diss Super Woman and play favorites with Super Hero’s.  I don’t even care about them but it just isn’t fair.

“Spiderman had the accident with the spider, Super Man was born on another planet, Batman…” (well, to be honest I don’t remember what he said about batman.  I simply could not believe we were having such a serious discussion about.. Super Hero’s).

We finally had to leave it at a disagreement. Well, honestly, I totally caved in because I really didn’t care one way or another. I don’t like movies with Super Hero’s anyway.

And then he turned on Plant of the Apes.


LWL One Topic Musings…

I changed my Outlook work font from Comic Sans to Arial.  I really didn’t want to but professional work sites keep telling me that using Comic Sans font is childish and unprofessional.  I would ignore it but after seeing the comment about 10 different times, I finally gave in and changed it.  Damn Internet work peer pressure.

I signed into a new game.  My user name is TorpidLawyerdad8143. I have no idea how I ended up with such a stupid user name.  But I’m not going to go through the bother to change it.

  • Text message between me and my daughter:

Christina:  I forgot my wallet in my backpack.  Can you either bring it to me   or bring me a drink?  I don’t have any money.

Mom: (Auto response) I’m Driving Sent from my car

Christina: Good. Drive to me with a large coke, please.

Comment made to Christina’s boyfriend while driving with them in my car:  “I would really appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell anyone that I have I like big butts on my playlist.”

After helping my daughter with her homework, she has forbidden me from ever answering any question with the word “penis.”

  • Text Message between me and my husband:

Him:  Where are you?

Me:  IHOP, why?

Him:  Lunch?

Me: I’m full. Had Roots tooth fresh and fruits! Just finished.

Me:  OBVIOUSLY my phone does not want to say “Rootie Tootie Fresh and Fruitie.”