Liar liar pants on fire!

I, Dataceptionist, your faithful blogger, am a liar. There. I said it! I’m sorry!

(slightly less faithful recently sorry, been a bit busy at work)

Doing some tag maintenance recently, I found a post called Cops are Tops. It’s a recount of my first ever breath test, making my post  recently about my breath test, false! I completely forgot about it. I can’t remember WHAT I was doing in Castle Hill, at midnight, on a weeknight, but I got pulled over. Seemingly without incident, as I don’t even recall it after reading the post. Its like someone else’s story funnily…

It has reminded me however that I was going to recount another tale of Police brutality (aka a routine traffic stop) of mine.

I’ve had to go back to the high school archives for this one, and have even gone to the trouble of scanning a photo or two, so you can really feel part of the story. 

First off, some background info-

 

So way back in year 12 at school, I was  the proud owner of a VW beetle, here she is. ---->

I was devastated when it came time to sell her, but an enormous relief also (it broke down quite a lot. I often joked that I knew all the NRMA [roadside assistance] mechanics on a first name basis) . 

That said, I actually shed a tear when I watched it drive away after I sold it. *sniff*

Anyway, I did Drama as a subject for my HSC (final year high school exams for those outside Oz). One of the components of the subject was a group performance with the class of 24 split into small groups to work on a piece that, from memory, could be on anything you wanted, there were no limits. 

So one day, I was on my way to a rehearsal at one of the girls houses. I used to tear around quite a bit in my beetle, and so was ever vigilant for the police, but I was almost at my destination on this occasion, so was paying less attention than I should have been, and suddenly theres a police car stopped on the side of the road. I was in a 50 km/h zone, going 80, by the time I got to the car I would still have been going 55-60, but thankfully was turning just after the car.

So you can imagine what happened then, as I watch in my rear view mirror, he turns a little after me. The follows me for about 2-3 minutes. This doesn't sound very long, but when you're crawling along waiting for the sirens to sound, and the lights to flash, it can be an eternity.

Eventually the siren sounds, and I hasten to pull over, so I look like an innocent obliging citizen.I quickly rummage around for my handbag, so I have my license at the ready, and the window down by the time he ambles over to me. Later my mother tells me not to look so "practiced" at being pulled over LOL

I imagine he made small talk or something before asking me to step out of the car. Remember how I said I was on my way to a rehearsal? A DRESS rehearsal, I'm in costume...

I'm second on the LEFT. In the lime green. 

You can't see the rainbow knee high socks I'm wearing as well as the full makeup. 

So looking like a clown missing floppy shoes, I climb out of my, now equally as silly looking, Volkswagen so he can demonstrate to me I haven't got my "P" plate displayed correctly. 

I'm certain he saw what I was wearing through the window and decided it would be funny to haul me out of the car. My father helpfully points out later also, that he was probably checking out my tits as well. Nice Dad.

A round of Margarita's, barkeep!

Well the verdict on these, because I know you've all been waiting with bated breath.
I didn't mind them. The "Margarita" ones (right) weren't as nice as a real Margarita, like I'd had in a restaurant mere days before I drank these. But it was passable.

Especially passable (can something BE especially passable?) as a key factor in the taste of a real cocktail margarita is the salt on the rim, kind of hard to salt encrust a premix bottle, so they've somehow mixed it into the flavour of the drink. Pleasant, drinkable, I could envisage myself spending a night on them without gagging by the third bottle (I'm talking to YOU vile blue and orange WKD things).
Sierra Tequila, for those of you you aren't tequila aficionado's is the tequila that you see with the little red hat on the cap. Interestingly when I looked them up, they actually have Gold and Silver tequilas, whereas I've only really seen the Silver, and thought they didn't do gold. Personally I prefer gold to silver, which is why I usually stick to Jose Cuervo for my tequila consumption.

Anyway the "Tropic" flavour was quite nice also.

Pet Hate # 65238:
giving things stupid names that don't actually help with defining the flavour/scent/colour of something.

"Tropic" flavour is pineapple, orange & mango juices (complete with floaty pulp stuff for authenticity), with Tequila and Triple Sec. Very pleasant, and as there was such potential for the margarita flavour to be like poison and undrinkable, I bought a single of it, and a four-pack of the "Tropic". We'll see how I go with more than one, they were equally pleasant tasting, the margarita probably more so though.

Note I only had one of each drink, as I was the Designated Driver for the evening, which brings me to the second half of my evening, my first Random Breath Test!
I find it amazing I made it to 24 before having one!
I'd only had one each of the tequila things, and at 1.1 standard drinks (Re) + a glass of red wine, Thankfully I decided not to imbibe any further at the pub(s) after dinner as we'd reached that part of the evening where we could leave anytime, and I didn't want to sit there waiting for twenty minutes for the sake of a bit of vodka.
So by the time I saw the flashing lights I was actually totally confident I would pass. I was actually more concerned about possibly running down a policeman on the way into the lineup.
Interestingly, every person of driving ability I have mentioned this to, without exception, has remarked that regardless of guilt, even if they've had nothing to drink that night, they get anxious when waved in for a RBT. I couldn't count on two hands the number of times I've been waved on that I haven't almost melted in relief, so maybe that's why I wasn't worried at all, even though I had had drinks earlier in the evening.
One of the worst parts was M was passed out in the passenger seat, which probably didn't look very good.
btw- does anyone know why they ask you if your address is current on your licence? As he waited for the reading, he casually asked if I was still at "XXX Mulberry Lane" which kind of confused me. "no, I've actually moved since then, do you have a label I might use?"

To come: My account of my only other brush with the boys in blue.

ooh hopping mad!!!!!

What are the point, I ask you, of School Zones if no one bloody well slows down anyway?
Including, the POLICE.
I drive through three school zones on my way to work now, and this morning followed a police car through all three. The first was fairly good traffic, all obeying the rules and the police car was nestled in amongst us all. The second and third were absolutely ridiculous. The police car paid no heed whatsoever to the school zones and these are those ones with the flashing lights on the signs at appropriate times. The police car zomed through the school zone, sitting directly behind a car who also didn't bother slowing down.
What is the blooming point of being a law abiding citizen when the enforcers A) don't bother themselves {which is no surprise to anyway really} and B) don'y bother pulling up anyone else for the offence.

Cops are Tops

I had all these cool and insightful things to say, and I was thinking about them all on the way home last night, and then like I totally forgot them.

In other news.....

~Last night I had my first ever Random Breath Test! It was quarter to 12, I was in the backstreets of West Pennant Hills, had just passed through Coonara Ave roundabout heading to Castle Hill Rd when the paddy wagon passed me in the opposite direction. We were the only two cars on the road so I actually wasn't surprised in the least when I saw them do a U-ey {what is the spelling of this term? Uie? Uy? Youey?} at the roundabout and come back up behind me, where I was dutifully crawling along at 50 km/h for this precise purpose. What I did think was weird though was the first cop gets out the passenger side with his maglite and starts shining it in at all the absolute crap in my backseat, as if there was Smack in a nicely labelled ziplock bag underneath stray books, wedding magazines, beer soaked tea towels and crusty food wrappers. Sadly he was disappointed my '87 Laser wasn't the hydroponic haven he thought he saw when we passed that obviously warranted them speeding up behind me as they neared. AND they flashed their lights at me.

~I thought it was funny though, after a Law Enforcement drought in the Dataceptionist camp, they were actually the second encounter I had with the Boys in Blue yesterday. The first was Eastwood police coming into work to take a statement as we had some equipment stolen over the weekend. Hilariously, the officer that came in had the same name as my Sweet Fiancee!!!! It was really funny because I saw his badge and then stupidly, moronically said to him "is that your name!?", as if he was going to then tell me it wasn't really, he was actually Elton John undercover.