When it comes to conflicts, especially conflicts with an armed, uniformed officer of the law, I would judge myself to be quite the PansyAss. For the most part, I have lived my life as a very Good Girl to avoid such conflicts with anyone, especially armed, uniformed officers. Having a former husband who does not share the same PansyAssedness has created some very interesting (understatement) situations for me.

And, even after seventeen years of knowing him, knowing how he is and knowing how he operates, I am still surprised and intimidated when his lack of PansyAssedness brings me into a full-on, face-to-face “interogation” with the long arm of the law.

For no other reason than it has given me great fodder for a scene in an upcoming novel, I cherish the time I have spent behind bars simply because my then-husband had balls bigger than God and any uniformed officer could ever dream of having. I appreciate (ye-eah. whatever) being a once-innocent-and-naive Good Girl that found herself, so many years ago at four months pregnant, fingerprinted, profiled, mug-shotted for her permanent record and booked in jail for eight hours with crack whores and meth-meltdowns on warrants that I had no idea existed and simply because I happened to be with the wrong person at the right time.

I appreciate (again. ye-eah. whatever) the quivering (in no way sexual or juicy) I just experienced as I sat at my desk, feeling all scared and little while they search the premises, prowling for said Big-Balled-UnPansyAss former husband/current boss, who was not here, as I told them he wasn’t. They, apparently, disbelieved my words.

And me, PansyAss Little Girl who is so unversed in all things uniformed-officer-related, gets all choked up and nervous, blushy and sweaty in front of them. Perfect reason for them not to believe me, not realizing that I am simply a PansyAss. And not knowing the ways and the laws which are there, supposedly, to protect my rights, I do not ask for a search warrant until after giving permission to search the premises. I am a Good Girl. The officer politely asked me if he could “look around for a bit” and when I nodded lamely, he took that as my expressed permission and had a hayday.

Feeling all violated and abused, I quietly ask the other uniformed officer dude, “Aren’t you supposed to have a warrant to look around here?”

“That is why we asked your permission. You gave your permission. Thus no need for a warrant.”

WTF?! Did you know that?

Yeah. Well. I did not.

Lesson learned.

PansyAss is now one step smarter in the, apparent, lifelong pursuit of peace where UnPansyAss Ex and the long arm of the law are concerned.


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