First off…

it’s 8:50 p.m. and someone on the next block is using a power saw outside. Now, some of you might say, “So? What’s the problem?”

I’ll tell you the problem, my friend. The problem is that it’s 8:50 p.m. on a Friday night, I’ve finished off the bottle of vodka that I was keeping in the freezer and am forced to move on to CANNED BUD LIGHT which was in the fridge, and there’s only two left (nevermind I’ve already had three), AND it is not allowed in my town to use power tools outside after a certain time, like, say, 7 p.m. I’m fairly certain it’s 7 p.m., but I could be wrong. But it is definitely NOT 8:50 p.m. And I am, seriously, about to call the police. The only thing stopping me is that the conversation would go roughly like this (and please, for the benefit of the story, hear the sentences said by me in the following exchange in a slightly slurred voice which I am not going to be able to accurately portray in writing):

Police dispatcher lady: Police. How can I help you?

Me: Oh? Did I call the emergency number? Sorry. I meant to call the non-emergency number. Except that this IS kind of an emergency.

Police dispatcher lady: What’s your emergency, ma’am.

Me: Oh, really, don’t call me ma’am. I hate that. I am so not a ma’am. I’m only 36 years old, for cryin’ out loud.

Police dispatcher lady: Okay, ma’am? I’d just like to make you aware of the fact that we know where you’re calling from.

Me: Oh, I’m WELL AWARE of that, police dispatcher lady. I know all about you and your big brother. I wave at you people every time I go through that new underpass under the tracks down the street, in your little cameras that will probably eventually catch my son smoking pot under there because he can’t ride his skateboard under there because you installed those little metal things along the planter box things.

Police dispatcher lady: Okay, ma’am? I’m putting you on speaker phone, okay?

Me: Whatever. Knock your socks off. Here’s the thing. There is SOME GUY who is finding it ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY to fucking, excuse me, scratch that. There is SOME GUY who feels the need to use a power saw at 8:50 at night. Isn’t that NOT ALLOWED? I mean, what am I paying these fucking, excuse me, scratch that. What am I paying these fucking property taxes for anyway, I mean besides YOUR SALARY, MA’AM, and the school system and all that? Can you send somebody over and give that guy, like, a ticket or something.

Police dispatcher lady: (through completely unrestrained laughter, and partially obliterated by the laughter of the rest of the officers in the room, who probably should be in their cars, driving around town, looking for someone to bust for something, but who are eating pizza and listening to drunken residents airing their grievances) Okay, ma’am,

Me: Don’t call me ma’am

Police dispatcher lady: Sorry, um, Miss? Where is this power saw user?

Me: I don’t fucking know. Over there, to the right of me somewhere on the next block. Just tell the officer to drive up Clausen with his window down. He’ll hear him. The offender, I mean.

Police dispatcher lady: The offender?

Me: Yes. The offender. I know the law in this town, for christ’s sake.

Police dispatcher lady: Okay, ma’am.

Me: OH. MY. GOD.

Police dispatcher lady: Sorry.

Me: You know what? Nevermind. Since we’ve started talking, the idiot has stopped. It’ll be a waste of your time. Finish your fucking pizza. Jesus.

Police dispatcher lady: Is there anything else I can do for you, ma’am.

Me: You’re kidding, right?

Police dispatcher lady: I thought it was kind of funny.

Me: Okay. Yeah. Hilarious. I hope you recorded this conversation so you can play it back all night and have a good laugh.

Police dispatcher lady: We record every call ma’am.

Me: You’re hilarious.

Police dispatcher lady: Oh, no. It’s you. You’re hilarious.

Me: I’ll talk to you later.

Police dispatcher lady: I have no doubt.

So you see? Do you see why I’m not going to call the police? That bitch called me ma’am. Repeatedly. After I asked her to stop! Maybe I should call someone and complain.

A few minutes later: I forgot to add this. Earlier today, or maybe it was yesterday, I don’t remember, I went through my links and removed a few, basically on an arbitrary basis. And I removed someone whose blog I haven’t visited in a while, just because I was always reading his, but never really commenting all that much even though I like his posts, but he wasn’t really visiting mine. And I couldn’t remember why I had linked to him in the first place, and then I remembered it was because a while ago, I arbitrarily picked a few people’s blogs to “review” and link to, just for fun, or for whatever, and I don’t have the slightest idea where I came up with his blog, maybe it was on a surfing site or something, but anyway, I picked this guy’s blog and “reviewed” it. And TODAY, he commented on an older post of mine. Which makes me think, Rich? Did you notice somehow, today, that I had unlinked you, and came over here to see why that had happened, and who this woman was who had unlinked you, trying to figure out why she maybe had linked you in the first place? Because you know what? I shouldn’t have unlinked you. Because I like you. So I’m relinking you. Because maybe you’ve been lurking but never commenting. And we should rekindle the love.

OH MY FUCKING GOD.  I just watched a gigantic moving truck try to turn a tight corner on my quiet little street.  It’s 9:49 p.m.  And while I was doing this, the POWER SAW GUY started up again.  It’s 9:49 p. fucking m!  My husband just returned from a call.  I’m going to ask his opinion of whether or not I should call the police.