On my way to work yesterday morning I received a speeding ticket for going 40 in a 25. I have never denied that I have a terribly heavy lead foot but, in my defense, there is a 200 yard stretch of the road I take to work that suddenly drops to 25. And I was daydreaming. Probably about you, but I digress.
The cop wasn't a total dick about it but he wasn't responding to my Midwestern Friendliness either. The more I think about it, I'd have been less mad about the whole thing if he'd just once acknowledged that he was writing me a $100 ticket exactly one week before my birthday. My 40th birthday. Humorless douchebag.
I announced my misfortune on Facebook as soon as I got to the office and it was later suggested that I'd received the ticket because I failed to show enough cleavage.
Haha! Good one!
See, the first thought I had when the cherries lit up behind me was, "Thank God I haven't done laundry in like three weeks and this top was the only thing clean." Sadly, it didn't help.
On my way home last night I re-enacted the moment by sticking my left arm out the window and taking this from Officer Humorless E. Douchebag's point of view:
(His middle name just has to be Eunich.)