I know you've got 'em. I'm gonna start this thread off with one that, even in a smallish town like Omaha, Nebrasky, still may boggle the mind.

I've got a new job as a night stocker at Hy Vee Grocery Store on 156th and Maple sts in Fashionable West O. So, last night I get off at 3:00 A.M. and head south on 156th toward Blondo Street, which I live just off of. I go to make a left turn at a blinking yellow, but it's the light I should skip because it turns into a subdivision. So I swoop out of the turning lane back onto 156th St and continue south.

Well, I get stopped at the red light at 156 and Blondo and WHOOP, there's a car behind me--and a quick glance into my rear-view mirror reveals that yes, YES--it's a fucking cop.

Light turns green, I turn, he turns, and BLAMMO lights on, pull over, dig license, registration and insurance oot to present to him. Of course he thinks I'm trashed (who wouldn't? Who's writing the fucking story, asshole?), and he axes me, "Do you know why I pulled you over, sir?" And I'm all, "Well, because you want me to kill you HAHAHAHAHAHAHA" NO THAT DID NOT HAPPEN.

I said (the troof): "Uh, because I didn't use my turn signal at the light?" And he says, "No. Because you were driving eratically. Are you all right to drive?" So I assured him that I was, and that I had just gotten off work and wasn't used to the hours or driving in the "good" parts of town (usually one of the corners where whores hang out is where I turn to get home. No whores--OOPS! I didn't tell him that).

So I give him my license and shit and he stares at it for an extra couple seconds, looks up, almost into the sky, and axes me, "Mr Goshboots, is your address really [redacted]?" "Uh, yes. I've been there for four years." He again kind of stares off wistfully, and starts kind of stuttering about the street and house, and I stammer back, "It's uh, the blue one" and he says, "Uh, yeah...(Here comes the kicker, and it needs it's own line)

"I grew up in that house"

HOLY FUCKING SHIT! I thought. I'm not getting a ticket tonight!

I looked at his name tag, and sure enough it was [redacted]--and I said, "ZOMG--is your mother's name Barbara? We still get mail for her!"

So he took my shit back to his car, came back, handed it to me, then extended his hand and introduced himself as [redacted]. We shook hands, he told me to say "Hi" to some of the old farts who still live in the hood, and off I went!

As the saying goes: WHAT ARE THE FUCKING ODDS?

, even in a smallish town like Omaha, Nebrasky,



As the saying goes: WHAT ARE THE FUCKING ODDS?


In that tiny place? Pretty damn good. Aren't you guys all related through interbreeding anyway?

All that and he DIDN'T aks you to perform oral sex on him?

WHAT ARE THE FUCKING ODDS?

All that and he DIDN'T aks you to perform oral sex on him?

WHAT ARE THE FUCKING ODDS?

I bet it fell under one of the [redacted]s

I bet it fell under one of the [redacted]s

LDB's been drinking a lotta OJ to get that funny taste out of his mouth.

pretty good story.

i've been pulled over a twice. first time was when i was a teen and drove like a complete asshole (thank god i didnt kill anyone. in hindsight... jeez, what was i thinking).

the second i was driving home from a bar in downtown detroit (i was living in a suburb right outside of downtown). it was the middle of the day. not wasted, but me and a few people had some celbretory beers. anyway, my way home was taking vernor out of detroit since it's one way the whole way. well, as soon as i get out of detroit and into the burbs i get pulled over. it turns out, vernor and connors (think it was connors, its been a while and i could have street names mixed up) was under watch for drug deals, and a car matching mine was spotted buying drugs.

so i get pulled over, my car is searched, i am searched, they ask me if i know why im pulled over, and say speak carefully cuz my life is about to be drastically altered. i say i have no idea. when he tells me it involves a drug deal (remember, i'd had a few beers) i am the most relieved drug deal suspect of all time, since im 99.9% certain theres no drugs in my car (friends who smoked pot often drove with me so there was just the smallest chance maybe a bag fell under the seat or something).

so b-diddy gets off scott free, and extremely relieved.

the one bad part of it was that the dickheads pulled me over in front of a neighborhood ballpark, and of course a baseball game is going on, and 1/2 the neighborhood is watching me thinking im a huge dirtbag.

still, i think thats the last time i might have failed a breathalizer and been driving. all things considered, extremely fortunate.

In that tiny place? Pretty damn good. Aren't you guys all related through interbreeding anyway?

Omaha, the city, has about 440,000 people and is about the 40th largest city in the US. The metro area is approaching 1 million. You get outstate, and yeah, the chances are the cop could have been my father.

Don't come at me with that "Marrying cousins" bullshit. I'll bitch slap you with the Cornhuskers FIVE national championship trophies since 1970 to Notre Dame's measly three.
:SHIT STORM!:
In fact, just for that, I'm going to forward you the Nebraska Vacations Guide and the weekly Omaha Business and Community Report via email through this very site for the next ten years.

All that and he DIDN'T aks you to perform oral sex on him?

WHAT ARE THE FUCKING ODDS?

I don't harbor Secret Homosexual Fantasies of jail and gay cops like most on this site.
And yeah, it is a slap in the face and a reminder that you are getting old when the cop doesn't at LEAST offer you "another way" to pay the fine.

Omaha, the city, has about 440,000 people and is about the 40th largest city in the US. The metro area is approaching 1 million. You get outstate, and yeah, the chances are the cop could have been my father.

Don't come at me with that "Marrying cousins" bullshit. I'll bitch slap you with the Cornhuskers FIVE national championship trophies since 1970 to Notre Dame's measly three.
:SHIT STORM!:
In fact, just for that, I'm going to forward you the Nebraska Vacations Guide and the weekly Omaha Business and Community Report via email through this very site for the next ten years.

LOL gotta love it.

What is featured in this years vacation guide? The Eric Crouch statue?

Sorry, I don't need a business report filled on the adverse reaction of sweet corn this year to some mysterious bug, which has crippled the entire economy by 43%.

I don't harbor Secret Homosexual Fantasies of jail and gay cops like most on this site.
And yeah, it is a slap in the face and a reminder that you are getting old when the cop doesn't at LEAST offer you "another way" to pay the fine.

Agreed. When a cop would rather give you a ticket than see your tits, you know you are ugly. Then most girls begin to cry, and the cop could care less.

You guys are going to think I'm lying anyway (most people do) but I'll share.

I did actually have about 15 cops point their guns at me when I was a teenager. Washtenaw County cops. I had just left my music teacher's house (in Ann Arbor, Miller/Maple exit of M-14). I was carrying a Steinberger bass guitar propped up against the passenger seat of my mom's 87 lime-green Chrysler LeBaron.

If you've never seen one, a Steinberger is an odd instrument. It has no headstock (the tuners are back below the bridge) and it has very little body. It's long and thin, and it comes with a padded nylon bag.

So I'm trying to get back on the freeway from Maple Rd. - back in those days, before they built the roundabouts, the freeway entrance was 3/4 mile long, so you'd be driving through the woods for a while before you actually saw the freeway. And I got pulled over, of course. Lights flash, I pull to the right, and I wait.

And wait.

I know they usually process your license plate through the computer or whatever when they pull you over, but it sure seemed like everything was taking a long time. The cops kept flashing their spotlights at the back of my head over and over again, and eventually 20 minutes had passed with no one approaching my car. It was a school night. I was young, impatient, tired of waiting, and so I rolled down my window (actual window levers in that car) and stuck my head out to see what was going on.

What I was met with was the sight of 3 or 4 chubby cops with their guns pointed at my face, screaming at me to turn the fuck around and don't move.

So I didn't. I was strangely not panicking or anything - I was just trying to be calm so that maybe my calmness would show them I wasn't up to anything bad. They instructed me to do this weird contortionary process that involved holding my right hand out the window and taking the keys out of the ignition with my left hand, passing them to my right hand, and dropping them out the window next to the car. I did everything they asked, without saying a word. Eventually I was kneeling behind my car as I was being placed into cuffs, and then stuck in the back of a cop car.

By this time, helicopters with search lights were flying overhead and more cop cars had arrived. Finally one of the cops, a big fat black guy, searched my car, pulled out the bass guitar, and had a good laugh. Apparently they were expecting a rifle. He lectured me about driving without a lit license plate and a cracked windshield, which I presume was the reason they pulled me over to begin with, and sent me on my way.

On my way home, the magnitude of what had just happened finally hit me, like a curtain pulling away over the fear I had been keeping at bay. The fear welled up in me, and I began shaking, and I had an uncontrollable urge to shit. I had to pull the car over to the side of the road where, in plain view of the maybe 5 or 6 people that were driving that night on M-14, I shat into a plastic bag and cleaned up with fast food napkins from the glove box. I sat silently for a while, contemplating the ease with which life can end, and then drove home.

And that's why, for the rest of my life, no birthday will ever be worse than the one when I turned 18.

Need a short version.

So, I went ahead and read it.

For those of you haven't yet, long story short: he pooed in a bag.

I love cops. they can ALL kiss my ass

So, I went ahead and read it.

For those of you haven't yet, long story short: he pooed in a bag.
Sir, the proper term is "shat".

I wonder if that shat, with all the fixins, is still in that bag buried in sediment along the side of that highway? Swami, you can start a Poo Hunt thread -- offer lots of clues so folks living in that area can find the "treasure"

Sir, the proper term is "shat".

I wonder if that shat, with all the fixins, is still in that bag buried in sediment along the side of that highway? Swami, you can start a Poo Hunt thread -- offer lots of clues so folks living in that area can find the "treasure"

Well, at least you're being proper. :)

Being "proper" is what I do do