Usually, I find creative ways to waste our money, but my favorites, by far, are the ones where people do it for me. After all, who has time to hand out hundred dollar bills on street corners these days? I'll give you one guess who it's not. She has two thumbs and never buys a bra that's more than seven dollars.
...it's this girl!
So, obviously, you'll understand how overjoyed I was when I got pulled over right before I gave birth.
As I rolled down the window, I adjusted my glasses and prominently displayed the side of my belly that'd readily show contractions or a foot trying to get out. Anything to make screaming, "Ripley, get off the ship," more convincing. "Good evening, Officer. Can I help you?"
"Paige, is it?"
"Well, yes. But my fans know me as the lady who should have her internets taken away before she hurts herself."
"Well, Paige. I clocked you going seventy-five in a sixty-five."
I tried desperately to break my water with my mind. "Really? I didn't see that. Mostly because I was looking for my glasses so I could see the speed postings. But, as the French say, "Too little, too late."
"They would if they spoke English and were getting pulled over right now."
He looked me over. "I'll be right back."
I'd been caught like the porpoise on the run, I was. Do I get tickets very often? No. Is it ten times more embarrassing to get a ticket after speeding in a mini van on your way home from a wedding reception you didn't even get to drink at and spent the entire time getting poked and being asked whether "I'll have to be the one to deliver this baby? Because you look so ready. You feel ready? Because you look ready. I'll check to see if you're dilated after I finish this Whiskey sour and ten rounds of the Chicken Dance."
Yes. Yes it is.
"I'm gonna let you go."
"Oh, thank you."
"Here's your ticket."
"I retract my thank you and raise you a plague on all your houses."
"You know, my wife and I have three kids too."
"I retract my plague on your children and re-direct at your cable bill."
Batting my eyelashes, I grabbed the yellow piece of paper and stuck it on the seat.
"So, when are you due?"
For emphasis, I faked a contraction and started smoothing my eyebrows down with the backs of my hands. "Oh, about a week from now. The great thing is, this ticket is coming right at a time when we'll be getting a whole bunch of other bills. I hate when bills get lonely, Officer...er...Dan, was it? Keeps me up at night, Dan. Gives me the sweats. Had to switch to Degree for Men.
"Well, have a great night. Drive safely."
My delicate laughter created an air of ease, and shattered the mirror in my visor. "No, you enjoy that one-hundred-seventy dollars and the thought that my children will be living off my love and raisin bran with no milk for the next year."
Did I speed? Yes.
Am I complaining because someone gave me a website and allows me to type things out using just my pointer fingers if I so feel? Uh huh.
Did I just buy Justin Timberlake's album, Justified, and waste more money, while choreographing sweet dance routines in my head? That's classified.
Until Next Time, Readers! ...don't speed or let drunk people check to see if you're dilated.