I started to wake up from a fairly deep sleep around 1:30AM when I heard Chooch talking loudly on the phone and barreling down the steps. I assumed he was on a call with his friends and possibly leaving the house? But then he texted me this:

Apparently, he was on the phone with 911!!! I don’t know how Henry and I didn’t wake up when this happened, but Chooch was still awake and heard it as soon as it happened and, being the SON OF HENRY, he jumped to action. He said the 911 person was very unhelpful but it was OK because there were people down the street who had also called 911. Chooch said when he peered into the car, the driver was just sitting there staring into space – YEAH, I BET?! That looks like a CRAZY accident!

We think what happened was that the driver (it turned out to be a young woman) was speeding DOWN our street (these things usually happen the other direction) and hit the front of the Jeep parked on the side of the street, spun out and the car flipped over on its side facing back UP the street??

The only good news here is that there did not appear to be any injuries, somehow. The owner of the Jeep is a woman who works at that behavioral health house up the street from us, so she was out there too. We missed the part where they got the driver out, but we did see her spectacularly fail the “walk the line” test and into the cop car she went.

I was watching all of this from the bedroom window and here’s way – she was a lone woman out there with a bunch of male cops. Someone needed to keep an eye on things. Isn’t that sad? That we can’t trust the people who take a pledge to protect us? What a world.

During my vigil at the window, I watched THIS COP CIRCLED UP THERE toss something into the yard of the church across the street and walk off toward his cop mobile that was parked in front of my house.

“THAT PIG JUST LITTERED!” I cried to Henry, blood pressure rising. “I’M GOING OUT THERE TO SAY SOMETHING!” Henry didn’t even try to stop me. I’m sorry, but littering is one of my all-time biggest pet peeves and I cannot fucking stand to see it. Most of my confrontations in life have been me calling someone out for littering (this was my 4th confrontation, where the fuck is my GIRL SCOUTS badge for this shit??).

So, there I went, flying out my front door like the Kool-Aid Man in their Aunt Sharon’s oversized Bon Jovi tour shirt from the 80s, no bra, joggers, and no socks, arms protectively covering their chest. That was me. That’s what I’m trying to say,

“Excuse me, excuse me!” I yelled, as the littering cop was now getting back out of his copmobile, having moved it off the road and into my driveway (OH OK, BE MY GUEST). Now I need to preface this real quick by saying that I would not have went out there if anyone was transported away in the ambulance. No one was. The only carnage out there was the car on its side.

First of all, the cop – a big white bald-headed gap-toothed white man who probably is also a wife beater – called me ma’am but I sensed a SARCASTIC tone.

“Did you just litter back there?” I asked sternly.

He just started at me like he needed me to define the word “litter.” So, I told him I SAW him throw something into the church’s yard. I won’t lie, in my head I was like, “This is stupid, you’re going to end up in that backseat with the drunk girl, Erin” but now there was no turning back. I’ll just make a donation to a charity today to counteract my Hulking out over litter last night.

He took a step toward me, AN INTIMIDATION TACTIC, and oh Yolanda, if you could have heard the SHIT EATING TONE he applied to his voice when he said, “You mean THE HEAT PACK from when I was assisting in the blabblahblah procedure?”

UM, SO HEAT PACKS AREN’T LITTER? Are heat packs BIODEGRADABLE?

Also, “assisting” in what now, sir? Because from my post at the Bedroom Watch Tower, all I saw him doing was meander about like an NPC, doing fuck all.

“I don’t care what it was, I hate litter,” I said, and I know my face was BEYOND resting bitch face. I was now Real Fugly Karen Just Rolled Out of Bed in the Middle of the Night.

“I hate litter too,” he said. OK THEN WHY DID YOU LITTER WHEN YOU WERE LITERALLY WALKING BACK TO YOUR CAR, YOU COULD HAVE JUST BROUGHT THAT SHIT WITH YOU???

I honestly can’t remember what happened after this but he was seriously getting too close to me and my anger was making metallic crashes in my ears so I just shittily said, “HAPPY THANKSGIVING” and then stomped back into the house, yelling FUCKING DICK as I slammed the door shut. Then I noticed Chooch was there watching the whole thing with his patented, “Ladies and gentlemen, my SOCIAL JUSTICE WARRIOR mother” smirk on his face.

“Feel better?” he asked sardonically.

NO ACTUALLY I DIDN’T because now the adrenaline was cruising through my nervous system.

“I did it,” I said to Henry, who was still watching from the bedroom. He said he knew, and played back our security camera footage where you can hear me yelling EXCUSE ME lol.

The last words I said before I fell back asleep was, “I bet he’s also an ICE sympathizer.”

I GUESS THIS ONLY APPLIES TO CIVILIANS.

ETA: I just replied to Janna’s comment about how I can have the shittiest service at a restaurant and I will be like, “Eh, the server might be having a bad day” but a man in authority DARES TO EVEN GLANCE AT ME and I am like OH BUDDY, CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

“So I’m not a Karen,” I defended myself to Henry. “What does that make me though?”

“A psycho,” Henry said WITH NO HESITATION, WOW.

Also, “welcome home, Chooch!” He must seriously miss this action sometimes. Henry said he came out of his room when he heard me fly out the front door and asked, “Where did she go?”

“To jail,” Henry sighed.