Alright, so this is a rehash because my dumb ass wiped my original post from my hard drive in a drunken drive to keep my Windows 7 desktop cleaned and purged of fucking space invaders.  Only the obsessive compulsive would understand …

:: pre-note, my lawyer recommended I post none of this ::

Fewer things you’ll ever regret more than taking a day off work when your flight doesn’t leave for Vegas until after your shift: murder in the wrong degrees of separation, getting caught prostituting yourself by your dad, getting pinched with felony level amounts of drugs if it’s weed.

My alleged crime is DUI.  And I stand accused.

I rear-ended an Asian driver which immediately made me cast an eye of blame in their direction.  I was about to change lanes, and while checking my blind side, I lost track of how far away a truck / car / whatever was in front of me.

Digging deep probably won’t find me a fix-it ticket accusing them of not having proper tail-lights.  Eventually I’ll strike water or oil.  Or China.  OH THE IRONY OF MY HUBRIS.

CHP was in on the fix and I went in.  Blood tests were done by some technician who clearly did not want to be there and was even more dismayed when Officer GotNico let her know that another one was incoming.

This was probably one of the worst days to be in the drunk tank in Santana Clara County because the Seahawks had just *embarrassed* the Niners in the great state of California.

I told them all I wish I would have known because I would have worn a Cowboys jersey.  Oh hahah oh!  Laughs all around.  And then a guy serious asked me, “Would you have?” and squinted at me.

I saw a white boy get some huge Indian guy riled up by poking and poking and poking.  I want to believe that people aren’t so easily aggravated while drunk but maybe I forgot what it was like to be young and intoxicated.]

The good boys, and me,  were put in a pen on the cellar level and gave us an ample opportunity to nap on the cold wooden bench.  I had a non-MLK dream about throwing wet napkins against the wall for the rest of my life.

Homeless people … god help them.  I craved my carpeted-floor and newspapers.