Why I’m Not a Cop

It’s funny how one thought leads to another…

I finished reading I Am Legend (a Christmas gift from my Dad) last night. Thanks to Supremo for the heads up that the whole book isn’t I Am Legend. The first 170 pages is, but then after that it’s a bunch of Richard Matheson’s short stories. Most of them were very weird. Think early Stephen King. I was surprised to find that one was the basis for one of the short films in Trilogy of Terror, one of my favorite campy horror films as a child. Look it up. The original starring Karen Black.

Anyway, I started reading one of my screenplays afterwards. The one I wanted to convert into either a novel or short story. And I began last night. As I began making changes to characters I was reminded of one of the peer criticisms I received when I entered the screenplay into the HBO/Mirmax Films Project Greenlight contest years ago.

The reader felt like all the victims and perpetrators being black or hispanics was stereotypical and unrealistic. The last part is what I had a problem with. I lived in the areas the stories took place. My father worked in the precinct upon which the stories take place. Unfortunately, the victims of the crimes and the perpetrators of the same were either black or hispanic. And I know firsthand that the cops didn’t get to pick where they wanted to work. There were plenty of white cops from Long Island schlepping their asses out to Brooklyn, the Bronx, or Harlem to work everyday. I hate when people don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about, yet talk like they do.

Then I remembered the hot Saturday morning one summer when I was 18, and my mother 33, and we stood in line outside a Brooklyn high school waiting to take the entrants exam for the NYPD. I was only doing it to make my father, who was already a NYC detective, happy. My mother did it because I guess she really wanted to be a cop.

I got a 99 on the exam, she got a 98, and we were both called into the academy. I turned them down with a polite no thank you. It’s not that I didn’t want to be a cop. Sometimes I did. But sometimes is not the kind of commitment the NYPD demands. I knew I’d made the right choice as I watched my mother leave the house each morning at the ass crack of down and hop a train into the city for a long day of training and classes at the academy. Then, after graduation, she was assigned to Housing. This was before the merge that brought Housing (my Mom and Uncle Tony), Transit (my Dad), and City (my Stepmother) together to just be the big ole lovin’ NYPD family we know today. She was assigned to a housing project in Brooklyn and would come home with stories you wouldn’t believe. One day she told us about getting a call about a foul odor from an apartment and finding a dead woman in her bathtub. From the looks of it, she’d been there awhile. Though a part of me looked at Mom who went from welfare to perp busting badass cop with awe, another part of me thought, “You a better woman than me, Charlie.’Cause I couldn’t get with that shit.”

Then I think about 9/11 and know that there’s no telling where my mother would have been assigned that day. And I think about my Dad and Stepmother going down there everyday after passing buckets of debri and body parts in some sort of macabre assembly line and I’m glad the whole family is done with it. There are some regrets though. Like when I think about the fact that my parents both retired before they were 50. And how each year, as part of their pension plan, they get a hefty check in the $13K range right before Christmas. For the rest of their lives. That’s pretty fucking sweet. Considering the age in which I took the exam and was called, I would be retiring before I was 40. Enough time to pursue 20 years of another dream while collecting a pension. Not too shabby.

The real reason I’m not a cop comes out when I watch TV and movies. Just ask Donny. I have a horrible temper and every time we’re watching some show and a cop is chasing some jackass for blocks yelling, “Stop. Police.” I’m like, “See, I think you should be able to just shoot his ass in the leg. He’d stop then.”  I also have a big problem with having to repeat myself. Just ask Kali. So, when I’m watching Cops and some jerkoff refuses to get out of the car I have no patience for that shit.

I’m not advocating police brutality. Not at all. But I think in this day and age of camera phones and You Tube the general public has this attitude that any kind of force by the police is a bad thing. “Why couldn’t they just talk to him?” “Why they gotta slam him on the ground like that?”

Listen, a car stop is one of the most dangerous parts of a cop’s job. If I pull you over for speeding or running a red light and ask you to step out of the car and you gotta give me lip and excuses we gonna have a problem. It may not be all the time, but when I’m in the uniform and carrying the badge, and I’m in the right and you’re in the wrong, you gotta do what I say. And you may have a very good excuse for speeding, but tell your story getting the fuck out of the car. And if I tell you to put your hands on the hood and spread your legs and you start pacing and asking, “Why? What I do?” I don’t have to entertain that. Ask your questions while complying, thank you very much, or you might find a baton to the back of your knee. I don’t know that you don’t have a body in the trunk, drugs in the car, or that you didn’t just come from slitting your girlfriend’s throat. All I know is that I’m asking you to assume a position for both our safety, and you’re giving me problems. Oh, hell no.

And guess what? Sometimes it does take three men to take down one. This ain’t the school yard, folks. You have a cop with a gun on his hip tussling with some knucklehead. If two guys need to provide backup to bring his ass down, so be it. I’d rather see that then the newstory about some cop getting shot with his own gun. Fuck that.

My Dad has a, “If I Could Get Away With…Who Gets a Bullet in the Head” list. Don’t judge him. I think at the top of his list is someone who spit on him while on the job. See? That’s the kind of shit I’m talking about. It’s bad enough I’m risking my life everyday, but I gotta deal with mofos spitting on me too? I don’t care what the circumstances, if somebody spits on me I’m fucking. their. shit. up. Period. You guys would see my black ass on the news being brought up on charges for pistol whipping a citizen that spit on me.

Just the other day my Dad was telling me about all the times a guy would say, “Don’t let me catch you without that badge.” He responded the same way every time, “Oh, no. We can go right now. Don’t let the badge stop you. Anything you bad enough to do later, you can do now. Let’s do this.” You gotta let ‘em know, with or without the badge, I will fuck your shit up. That’s how he rolled.

I think my favorite part of being a cop would be the interrogation of suspects. I love that shit. It’s my favorite part of watching The First 48. My Dad was really good at it. He had this corny, but his favorite, mug on his desk that said, “You walked in with a pretty face and information. You’re not leaving with both.” All of the cases in my screenplay, save one, are actual cases my father worked on and I loved writing about the interrogation of suspects and interviewing of witnesses.

Anyway, that’s what’s on my mind this morning. Why I wasn’t a cop.

P.S. Baby likes apple juice and pizza crust. Yes, just the crust.
P.P.S. As I told Tara last night, I’m now down two pounds.
P.P.P.S. I had to reschedule my doctor’s appointment because our insurance company fucked our last name on our policy (I know it’s a funky spelled German name, but damn) and Donny’s SS. Fucktards. I know the first appointment is just some doctor sticking is fingers in my woo-haa and measuring my uterus, but I also get to see the baby and that’s exciting.

BIOBaby: Morning Sickness & Pregnancy Diet

I’m sure you all know that morning sickness doesn’t just occur in the morning, but what you may not know is that it can occur all. the. damn. time! All day, every day, I feel tired, queasy, and gross. Donny bought me some Preggy Pop Drops from Babies ‘R Us yesterday, but I think they’re more for mouth nausea than tummy sickness.  It’s not like I feel like I’m going to throw up, because you’d actually have to eat something for that to happen, but more like my stomach is hosting its very own rock concert.

The worst part is that it’s recommended that you eat to make it go away, but eating is the last thing I want to do. Now I see why so many women lose weight in the first few months of their pregnancies. Of course, not eating is not an option so I find myself going through the motions. It’s probably no surprise that Donny has completely restocked the fridge and pantry with LOTS of the following:

apples, pears, bananas, mangos, oranges, calcium fortified orange juice, chicken, pork, broccoli, tomatoes, lettuce, avocado, whole wheat pastas and breads, yogurt, bottled water, eggs, and shitload of other veggies.

He’s been grilling all my meat and steaming all the veggies. Not only that, but he’s refused to let me lift anything heavy and has been doing the lion’s share of the housework in preparation for Emmaluscious’ visit tomorrow. But above all, he’s been putting up with the worst side effect of the early stages of pregnancy: flatulence. Sweet mother of God. What’s up with that?! Like swelling breasts, heartburn, and constant urination aren’t enough?

Here’s what’s going on with the baby:

The changes to your growing embryo are not quite as drastic this week as they’ve been in the last few weeks. Growth is now largely focused on their little head, which is starting to develop much more rapidly than the rest of their tiny body. This is because their amazing brain is undergoing some very crucial and rapid development in order to effectively regulate their heart rate, blood circulation, and other vital functions. As for the rest of their miniature body, what were simple limb buds last week are limb flippers this week and the tail is more expressed. Amazingly, within a mere five weeks your little miracle is already developing the rudimentary forms of their liver, pancreas, lungs, stomach and nasal pits while their little heart is already increasing its circulation. Your baby is now a whopping 4-6mm in length.

In other news, Donny and I have allowed ourselves to dream ahead. We usually have these conversations at night and they all start the same way:

“Donny.”

“What?”

“We’re having a baby!”

“I know.”

Silence.

“Nina.”

“What?”

“We’re having a baby!”

“I know!”

Then we giggle like fools. Then we start making plans for turning the guest bedroom into the nursery and the bonus room into a guest bedroom/rec room.  I’d love to install a chair rail in the nursery and paint the top half a nice green.

And the bottom half a nice khaki color. I think it’s a nice gender neutral look. Donny is looking forward to buying a rocking chair to sit by the window. You guys have to see him, he’s SO excited.

I prefer to not know the sex of the baby until it’s born, but Donny wants to find out as soon as we can. When I told this to my friend David (from the Auntie Good Pussy blog) he said, “Why? Tell him it can only be one of two things. It’s not like there are five possibilities.” But Donny is just really excited. We’re considering letting Donny find out while I, and Kali, remain in the dark, but I’m sure he’ll slip up and tell me somehow.

Because we have a ways to go I purposely avoid websites with cribs, strollers, and such. Although I’m DYING to hit up www.potterybarnkids.com. You guys know I have zero self control so my ass will probably be window cyber shopping there as soon as this blog is posted.

Finally, we’ve been discussing whether or not to share every baby name we consider with family and friends. Let me fill you in on a little secret: Expectant parents don’t really want your opinion on their possible baby names… unless you like them. If you don’t, then we expect you to lie and say you do or shut the fuck up. It’s like people actually forget that this is someone’s child we’re talking about and say the rudest shit. So, to preserve this nice little relationship we got going on I may or may not share the names we are seriously considering because I cannot be held responsible for the raging hormones induced cussin’ out I give any of you that diss my baby’s name. I’m just sayin’.

Free At Last

The semester is officially over. Tonight I took my last final in Environmental Science. I was really stressed about this one as she refused to give any heads-up as to what we should study. I spent the past two days reviewing the four 50-question exams we had during the semester… and thank God I did. She took the questions for the final directly from those exams. I was in and out of there in five minutes.

My good mood was short lived. Remember how I said the key to a successful marriage was to have separate sinks in the master bath?  I was wrong. The key to a successful marriage to have separate cars and never, ever, drive together. I hate the way Donny drives. I swear he takes the longest way possible wherever we go and he insists on driving like my dead, blind, Grandfather. I love my husband, but when he drives I don’t like my husband. In fact, there are times I want to reach over and slam his head into the steering wheel. Is that wrong?

When we finally made it to Blockbuster, by way of China, my mood lifted when I realized that they had both discs 3 and 4 of Dexter season 1. I rented a game, Time Shift, and I plan to spend my first day of nothing to do watching TV, sleeping in, and playing XBox 360.

If I remember to I’ll eat, go to the bathroom, and wrap Christmas presents.

Hallelujah!

I’m Almost Done

I am thisclose to returning to the land of the living. I can almost taste it. Honestly, by “land of the living” I really mean Myspace as I’ve made time in my life for everything else. I still have two finals left: the second part of my World Literature final and Environmental Science tomorrow. I received this lovely email from my History professor after I took my final and secured my A in the class:

“You are a superstar… one of the best students I’ve had the pleasure of teaching. Stay in touch.”

Awwwww.

I took my Spanish final last night and I swear I totally froze during the vocabularly section which was worth 50 of the 150 points of the exam. I only need to score an 86 to get the A in the class so theoretically, I could have blown the whole vocab. section and been straight, but you know I’m a complete nerd and blowing any parts of an exam on purpose is not an option. All I could remember was that vaca meant cow. At least I hope it does.

Speaking of cows, I’ve hit my weight loss ceiling at 22lbs. Which, to be fair, isn’t really hitting the ceiling as for the past month I’ve been eating what I want on the weekends, and only behaving during the week. And now that the elliptical machine is in my bedroom I refuse to be one of those people that cover their exercise equipment with clothes. That’s like the point of no return right there. Thursday morning, sweat and I shall become reacquainted.

Oh, and speaking of fat… last night, after my final, we went to that Chinese buffet. The food is soooo good, but I decided last night that we’re never going there again. As I ate I looked around at the other diners and noticed that EVERY ONE OF THEM were fat. And their kids, God bless ‘em, were fat too. And they were all just stuffing their faces and I felt so sad. There were two little boys there around Kali’s age that had breasts. And if I noticed it, I’m sure they noticed it. I mean, if you’re the parent and you look around the booth and notice that you’re overweight and your husband and children are too, how do you not just… get up? I don’t know. Maybe I’m being over judgmental. Either way, tonight’s dinner is going to contain lots of vegetables.

I’ve also been doing lots of Christmas shopping. I’m almost done. I still need to purchase a gift for Richard (I already ordered the gift for his household and now I need to get him a separate gift), a book for my mother-in-law (1001 Places in the US and Canada To See Before You Die… she’ll actually make it a point to go to some of the places), something for my stepmother, two more things for Kali… maybe three, and two more things for Donny.

Feel My Pain, People

Just so you can all understand what I’m going through.

Monday 12/3 – US History – Read Chapter 15 (The Union Broken), Watch Weekly Radio Address Number 15, Watch Episode 15: Frederick Douglass. Participate in online discussions on all of the above.

Environmental Science – Read Chapters 7 (Human Health and Environmental Toxicology) and 23 (The Pesticide Dilemma) Take Quiz over Chapters 7 and 23

Tuesday 12/4 – US History – Read Chapter 16 (Total War & The Republic), Watch WRA 16, Watch Episode 16: Wendell Phillips. Participate in discussions for all of the above. Study for final exam.

Spanish – Call to schedule final exam

Environmental Science – Study for exam 4

Wednesday 12/5 – Take Environmental Science Exam 4 which covers chapters 7, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24.

US History – Study for final exam.

Thursday 12/6 – Study for World Literature Final. Study For US History Final

Friday 12/7 – Take US History Final

World Lit – Study for Final

Saturday 12/8 and Sunday 12/9 – Study for Spanish final exam

Study for World Lit final

Monday 12/10 – Study for Spanish final exam and Environmental Science final exam. Take World Lit final.

Tuesday 12/11 – Study for Environmental Science final exam. Take Spanish final

Wednesday 12/12 – Take ENVS final exam.

Thursday 12/13 – Thank God, Jesus, Mary and Joseph that it’s all over… until January 7th.

Friday 12/14 – January 7th – Play games, read books, go to the movies, knit scarves, celebrate Xmas and New Year.

January 7th – Much like getting pregnant again I will face the new semester with excitement and joyful anticipation. By the end of the semester, when I’m going through all these aches and pains again, I will wonder what the hell I was thinking putting myself through it again… kinda like childbirth.

It wouldn’t be so bad if most of this wasn’t so… so… dry. Even my favorite class, History, has it’s drawbacks. Everytime I read the details surrounding slavery Donny says it’s in his best interest to avoid me for a week. Kali only has to half the week.

The Spanish class is just a lot of information with no real reason behind it. For instance, learning to conjugate spanish verbs with all their special stems, preterites, endings, etc., is stressful. Take the verb “poder” for instance. It means to be able or can. It’s an o:ue stem changing verb so when you conjugate it to say “I can” or “you can” or “we can” or “I am able” the “pod” becomes “pued.” But then it’s an -er ending verb and the rules for the ending of those verbs have to be remembered: “o” for first person, “es” for you, “e” for he/she/it, “emos” for we, and “en” for they.

I can = puedo
You can = puedes
He can = puede
We can = podemos (this stem doesn’t change for the we form)
They can = pueden.

Now, just imagine that times EVERY VERB IN EXISTENCE. All with their own unique rules and conditions. And that’s just for the present tense. Don’t even get me started on the imperfect, preterite, future or conditional tenses. Or subjunctive or imperative. Or the verbs that end in -gar, -zar, or -car. Or the verbs with irregular yo (I) forms like leer which means to read. So “I read” becomes leyo.

No puedo terminar el semestre sin matando alguien.

My World Literature class has been the worst class ever. The instructor is a dingbat and I hate her. That is all.

And the environmental science, while interesting, has proven to be the most depressing subject in the history of school. The only class that could possibly be more depressing would be Intro to Slavery and Genocide. Or Infant Mortality 101. But since those classes, thankfully, don’t exist, we’ll just have to give the award for “class most likely to make you gnaw on your own wrists until you hit an artery” to Environmental Science.

Every chapter is spent outlining how a certain aspect of our environment works… then every chapter ends with how we’re all fucking it up. I don’t think any chapter so far has ended on a happy note. From clouds to soil, from trees to fish, from the air to the ocean. We are fucking it all up.

Ugh. I’m going back to studying.