So the cop (July 31. For some reason, it's directing you to the wrong post) story. I never really explained that, and it's kind of funny. In a "I-think-I'm-going-to-be-arrested" kinda way. I had been in Troy with The Boy and really wanted to meet zha at the airport. But I should not have been driving. I know, I know, I'm a hypocrite. So, I'm at the airport, but his plane has already landed, and he and zochae are waiting for me where you drop your luggage. Now, you can only park there for one minute, and you have to be loading or unloading your car. But we talk for about five, when a rent-a-cop in a golf cart with a siren from Spencer's on top does a u-turn and pulls up behind me. Crap. So I say bye to the boys and start to get in my car, when this short, balding, mustached cop comes up to me.
"Is this your car?"
Oh, god. Please don't ask me questions where I have to think.
"Sure is." Big fake smile. Sometimes it's really good to be an actress. So at this point I'm completely paranoid and think I'm going to get arrested. My whole life flashes before me. I told The Boy I'd be back in an hour tops, and now I'm going to spend the rest of my life in jail.
Mr. Policeofficer bites his lower lip.
"Hmm. What's your name?"
Crap. Another question where I have to think.
"Ashley. But the car's under my dad's name. Is there a problem?" Please don't let there be a problem. Please don't let there be a problem.
"When's your birthday." GODDAMMIT!! WHY MUST YOU ASK ME QUESTIONS THAT ENTAIL USING MY BRAIN???
"January 23, 1978."
"Hmm." He bites his lower lip again. At this point, I'm positive he knows I'm not in a right state of mind and he's just messing with me until I crack.
"Well," he says, "did you know that your tags expire at the end of this month? Usually you get them renewed on your birthday. But yours isn't until January. That's strange. See, whenever I see a blue sticker, it yells, 'Check me out! Check me out!'" That last part was said in a high-pitched voice.
"Oh, well, my dad takes care of all that stuff. Do you want me to call him and we can figure this thing out?" Oh god, I have to talk to my father like this. Seriously, my life is ending. The earth may as well open up and swallow me because I'm about to have a heart attack. I have never been so paranoid in my ENTIRE LIFE!
"No, no. That's not necessary." Then I realize he's looking me up and down and giving me bedroom eyes. The motherfucker is flirting with me. I can barely remember my name, and now I have to be polite to a cop so as not to piss him off, even though he completely repulses me. And all I want to do is go back to Troy. Where it's safe.

So we have a conversation, where I'm trying to be friendly, in a not-leading-him-on kinda way. I'm also trying to have intelligent responses to his questions. So as not to lead him on to my mental state of mind. And finally, 20 minutes later, he lets me go. Not before saying, "So if you're ever around and you need some assistance, completely professional, of course, you know where to find me." Then he goes on for another 10 minutes describing exactly what type of assistance he can provide. I want to vomit at this point. And then die. And it was so cheesy. I think in his last life, he was a pimp from the 70s who never really knew what he was doing. Dear lord in heaven above, that was one of the worst experiences of my life. Needless to say, I never got arrested. Raped, almost. But arrested, no. I coulda kicked his ass if I needed to, though. I mean, the man came up to my knee caps. Boy, there's nothing like getting hit on my a 35 year-old man who probably lives at home with his mother and she still washes his underwear. My life is now complete.