Lady Gaga Is My Spirit Animal

Oh hey there internet, didn't see you there. Step into my office, which is adorned with tasteful yet inexpensive knick knacks, and some diplomas I bought off the internet to make me seem smarter. There's also one that says I'm licensed to operate heavy machinery, which is pretty cool if I even need to use a bulldozer in my office.

On that note, did I mention that I'm legally able to conduct a wedding?

No, srsly. I'm an ordained minister. I can wed people now. Classy, I know, and I don't even need to wear that uncomfortable plastic priest collar thing. I'd google what the hell that thing is called, but I don't think either of us care enough.

Anyway. I took extended an extended blogging vacation for my health AKA I was too busy drowning in grade 12 work and was too busy talking about confederation. Which naturally left me in a constant state of

And it's hard to be funny when you've found yourself wishing that the rapture would come a few days early just so you can stop reading about confederation and how the rail road was a symbol of Canada's identity and sovereignty.

Yeah. I KNOW. I get weepy just thinking about it. So let's move on, shall we?

I wish I could say something about being more worldly, or better looking, but really, not much has changed. I'm still two fries short of a happy meal and I still have a thing for Jensen Ackles, so everything is essentially the same. Next time I take an extended blogging break, I'll be sure to accomplish something awesome. Like learning how to juggle, or an equally as marketable skill.

Actually, that'll never happen. I'm so thoroughly a righty that I basically don't have a left hand. Juggling requires some coordination with the non-dominant hand, so I think I'm out.

And just like that, my life long dream of becoming a clown will never come true. Excuse me while I express my intense sadness.

Annnnnd I'm over it. 

Okay, so. Obligatory catch up is done, so let's keep moving shall we? 

So, I was walking down the street the other day. I know that sounds like a song lyric, but go with me. 

Okay? Okay. So I'm grooving, listening to my iPod ( and a song by Porceline and the Tramps, just so you know), and walking along like the boss that I am. I don't need to public transit or personal vehicles for transportation. I walk like all the cool kids do. 

As I'm walking, I see two things. One, for some reason there is a police officer on a horse walking a ways ahead of me. Already, I'm all, 

Because, really? You're trotting around in the middle of traffic on a HORSE? You're not the old spice dude, so let's all just put our big kid panties on and leave the ponies alone. 

But then I see a police officer on a bike, and I'm quickly moving towards being all, 

Disclaimer: I'm not making fun of police officers. I respect them, and I've even watched a T.V show about them once of twice (AKA Police Women of Broward County. Don't judge me). You're all very badass. Even the one in the back with one hand on his coffee and the other resting on his giant beer gut. You're badass too, Mr. Police Officer. My love of police officers has been a solid thing since a police officer gave me a coupon for a free happy meal just for wearing my helmet when I rode my scooter quite a few years ago. Really, I love and respect you all, and I regularly seek you out when I'm walking home by myself. 

I just happen to find police officers on bike to be exorbitantly amusing. I can't help it, it's just something that's written into my genetic code. It exists right along with a a strange tendency to stay up until 3 AM even when I know I need to get up early the next day, and an intense fondness for the way guys loosen their ties. Y'know, the little tug on the top of their tie and the neck wiggle? Makes me all, 

Oh shuttup, you know you think it's adorable too.

Anyway, I digress. So, cops on bikes.

Can I just throw it out there right now that they are less intimidating than most babies? No disrespect or anything, there's just something about the idea that makes me want to pat them on the helmet and give them some candy.

What do cops do when they arrest people while on a bike?

Are they like, "FREEZE, SUCKA. Now, I'm gonna handcuff you to my handlebars and you can run alongside me while I take your sorry ass to the police station!" It just doesn't seem very economical to me.

And then there's the issue of the police chase. What happens if a fugitive hops a fence? Mr. Police Officer is screwed, unless he wants to backtrack and find a bike rack to safely store his police issued bike while he tracks down a bank robber.

And if they catch wind of a crime, what do they do? "TEN FOUR. I'm on it. Let me ring my bell as I go down the street to inform everyone I'm on SUPER IMPORTANT POLICE BUSINESS AND YOU BETTER MOVE YO' ASSES OUT THE WAY BEFORE YOU GET RUN OVER WITH MY BIG SCARY TEN SPEED."

I'm just not getting the scary of the whole situation, frankly. All of this applies to the horse thing too, except most horses don't come with bells or handlebars. Well, none that I've seen anyway. If I've offended any police officers, or horses that indeed come with handlebars, then I am genuine sorry.

But I'm still going to do this:

When and if I see you ride past me on the street. I don't mean any offence. I just think you're painfully adorable, and I will totally help you put a playing card in your bike spokes so you sound more intimidating. 

On that note, I need to begin a project on the long term effects that a divorce might have on children. 

Adieu!

Love,

Megan