the title of the old bit says it all (an unscheduled return to sixteen years ago)

sue me, i just had to throw down another rerun…

…not due to lack of material, just due to stumbling over a bit that was a night you’ve all heard about but might not have ever read the bit on. not sure how the part about “learning to eat wing flappers properly from a pregnant hooter’s girl in tulsa, oklahoma” got left off the original, but it did!

05/19/2003: “wrestling hooters…stolen cadillacs (just another night in tulsa for me)”

so i told the officer, “look man, until some ordinance says i have to get off the phone when i drive, i’m still gonna make calls and there’s nothing you can do about it…” next thing i know i’m being cuffed and stuffed…and i DON’T mean in the back of the car on that last word, unfortunately. but i DID learn (thanks to my phone being on vibrate and the office calling) that what they say about prostate massage feeling good to a guy might have some basis in reality after all…

but seriously…

picture this…you’re a cop in tulsa, on a slow-ass sunday night, when all of a sudden you see a car run a red (i swear it was yellow) light. you start to follow, and the same questionable light timing happens another block down. when you pull up closer to call in some plate numbers before you pull them over, you see there ARE no plates…paper OR metal. no tags or inspection, either…it’s a brand new cadillac deville, running lights, with no plates, tags, what-not, and it’s just down the road from the CADILLAC DEALER.

can we say grand theft auto? tulsa police can…so i had some ‘splaining to do when i got out at my hotel.

you see, i HAD a rental reservation for a “premium” car (maxima…camry…et al) but they hadn’t had proper returns on those, so i could either downgrade to some econo-shit box or upgrade (for $7) to a 2003 cadillac deville, in a color that you or i would call ‘light brown’ or ‘beige’, but cadillac folk call “cashmere”. which tonight that sweater looked BOOSTED. a brief licence inspection (and slightly longer inspection of my rental agreement) coupled with a lecture on the difference in primary colors and i was on my way. i WAS gonna get my bag out of the trunk while i was talking to the cop, but when i went for the remote i stopped myself ’cause i realized the three corpse sized trunk had three things in it…

1. my backpack
2. a ticket system
3. a lawn jockey

okay, like i said, that last bit about all the racist shit in my work place was predominantly made up. but i HAD been threatening mike t with the idea of me getting a lawn jockey and putting it on my desk and naming it lil’ mike. i’d even scouted some 11″ ones on eBay and shown him. he laughed, and said not to be surprised if it ‘disappeared’ off my desk if i dared. (uh-huh…don’t wanna perpetuate the stereotypes but you wanna steal?) well, i have seen some strange shit confiscated by concert security in my day, but when jerry (head of security for the evanescence show i was sent up to tulsa to work) said, “oh, dude…check this out…”, and handed me an 11″ high lawn jockey that someone tried to take in to throw at the stage, i just about shit myself. all the more humorous when he GAVE IT TO ME after i told him that would complete an office prank.

move over mike t…lil’ mike comes in on a plane tomorrow. hope you still read my page…

after i bailed the show, i needed a bit o’ grub, which is hard to find at 9:30 pm on a sunday in tulsa…so i went to hooter’s. when i got there, it was SLAMMED out busy. i showed up to a full parking lot, and loud cheering from inside. i thought, “the spurs?”, till i remembered i was NOT at home and the games don’t kick in till next week. nope…it was for the pay-per-view wwe wrestling event. and i got the last table outside, no less…where you had speakers on the deck, but had to watch it through the glass.

ya know, sometimes my redneck expectations are let down…but today was NOT one of those days. as i had so eloquently stated to me earlier on the phone, “sean, you have some weird, random shit happen to you, don’t you?”. yep…often. and that’s how this page was born.

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