Jailhouse Rock

Memories, memories. Ah, your favorite blogger got arrested last night. No, no, I wasn't following the Mt. Saint Mary's track-and-field team in my Jeep, whooping and hollering. For those of you that've never been arrested, it's a pretty humbling experience.

My favorite part is when the cop backhandedly consoles you: "Now, if you're good, I'll put these cuffs on a little loose. If you're an asshole, I'll make sure you have bruises on your wrists for the next three weeks." No matter what the hell I say or don't say, I always get three clicks. Three clicks=bruises. I kinda have girly wrists, so I like to think they don't mean to put them on that tight.

Other favorite part? When they put you in the back of the car, (most of the time) if you look above the backside door's window, there's a microphone. I guess it's there to catch people admitting to stuff while the cop is outside searching their car or something. I usually sing into it. While Mr. Police Man was outside talking to my friends, I started singing Jailhouse rock as passionately as I could muster. "Went to a party in the county jail, dahdahdah... and he began to wail? dahdahdahdah dah dah ding. doodoodoodoo let's sing. Everybody let's rock. Everybody let's rock! Everybody in the whole cell block was dancing to the jailhouse rock! Ro-ro-rock!" Now that I think about it, I probably should have sung the national anthem.

See, there are two things you can do when you get arrested: Freak out, get pissed off and yell; or just say, fuck, I'm going to jail, my dad (or friend or whomever you'd call) better pick up when I call, goddammit. The way you talk to a cop is the way he's gonna treat you. You'd be surprised what cops will say when they know you're not a fucking idiot. I had a cop open up to me one time about problems he was having with his wife. He found out I worked for the Democrat-Gazette and thought I was really smart, so he just opened up. I really wanted to tell him to eat shit and die, but I played it off. He still kept my thirty pack.

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In other news, Les Claypool from Primus was voted the coolest-fucking-weird-ass-dude-in-the-world's imaginary friend today. Or somethin' like that.

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You know Matt or Trey one probably farted when they were taking this picture. They are never serious.
Anybody catch the new South Park last night? I was a little let down. You could tell they wanted to fuck Chef over because he left, but I think Scientologists came out looking the worst. It was still funny, but it could've been better, I thought.


Charlie said...

I, too, have had my fair share of jailhouse stints ... not fun. Actually, they can be fun if you're with your buddies — smiling for your mug shots and picking on the overnight drunks (Garland Co.), shooting craps with Mexicans (Washington Co.) and taking part in the largest road blockade in Madison Co. history would have been much shittier alone.

But waking up by myself in the Dallas Co. Jail, surrounded by some of the scuzziest low-lifes in Texas had to take the cake. I woke up New Year's Day to 100 brothers, beaners and crackers staring at me. One broke the silence by saying, "Boy ... you was three sheets to the wind last night!" Everyone laughed. Paco then informed me that I had taken off my boots, put them on my hands and acted like an airplaine all night. Propping my feet up on the biggest dude's shoulder was frowned upon, though.

Lindsay said...

SP def sucked. Why did you get arrested?