susieworld

So my other job, the one that pays a little more than what I’m paid for blogging ($0), is being a crime/courts reporter for my fair little city here in the heart of Silicon Valley.

Yesterday was essentially orgasmic for reporters across the Bay Area because some crazy man decided to shoot 8 work colleagues before his first cup of coffee.  This turned into an INSANE manhunt involving multiple police agencies, the FBI, and U.S. Marshals.

Reporters don’t fear for their lives or spend much time concerning themselves with the lives of victims because we can’t.  If we get too involved, we might start to feel something. And feeling something would make this job impossible.  So forgive me if I sound nonchalant about three people dying at the hands of a nutcase, but I can’t be any other way.

So as I was saying, journalists have been pretty much creaming their jeans over this story.  The guy was on the loose with an AK-47, had just KILLED three co-workers, and no one knew where he was.  He could have been anywhere.  Schools were locked down and everyone was freaking out since their airspace was completely full of police helicopters.

The guy ended up going for the “suicide by cop” option, which doesn’t pay out much life insurance-wise.  Police shot him this morning in some random neighborhood…in the driveway where a young mother and baby were living.  SCARY!

But reporters eat this shit up! This is amazing stuff.  I was nearly manic yesterday and today trying to keep up with events that were happening and turning stories in before they became irrelevant.  The news was breaking so fast, I had no time to fix it.

Today, in addition to the officer-involved shooting, which involved more than one officer, I had to write about another young mother who was found dead in the outskirts of town. She disappeared over the weekend and no one yet knows what happened to her.  It’s not clear if she was murdered or not, though I suspect the former.  She was a pretty woman and some douchebag out there probably thought she deserved it.

THEN I learn about two cases of prosecutorial misconduct.  In one case, a man was accused of raping a mentally disabled girl.  He was found guilty and sent to prison, but it turns out a cop completely MADE UP a coroner’s report.  He made up some random name and forged it on the coroner’s letterhead.  The D.A. prosecuting the case encouraged the defense to accept a plea deal based solely on this evidence and she may have known the evidence was falsified.  Now everyone’s getting sued.

My local cop shop has been in a heap of trouble lately.  Last month, an officer was arrested for allegedly having sexual contact with some teenage boys he met through Craigslist.  And on Monday, two more cops were arrested for stealing money from the local chapter of a nationwide police  officers’ fund that gives scholarships to needy minority children.  They pocketed over $100K.  And a local lawyer cheated a bunch of people out of their life savings by claiming they’d get major returns on their investments, while said investments were being spent on necessities like a MERCEDES.

Crime is everywhere.  It makes my job fascinating.  But I sure wish it would spread itself out a little bit so I won’t feel the need to pop Xanax like Tic Tacs.

Slang of the '80s - TOTALLY GNARLY!

Today’s slang totally blows chunks, doesn’t it?  Isn’t it high time we brought back some words from our shoulder-padded, big-haired past?  I’d say so!

So I was at the mall and I saw this major dweeb who was totally butt-ugly.  He was totally checking me out, so I told him to bite me.  I mean, what a total dipstick!  Like, barf me out!  Not even!  He was such a major spaz!  So grody.

So I left to meet my boyfriend, who’s a total hunk and has a bitchin’ car.  We met friends to party hearty.  I was so amped!  All my best friends came to hang out and it was wild!  A totally bodacious party and not a single wanna-be showed up.  Stacy started being a total bitch though so I had to tell her to take a chill pill.  It was such a burn!

It was a majorly good day.  Fer sher.  Fuckin’ A!

The End.

See?  That doesn’t sound as stupid as today’s kids sound, right?  Okay. Don’t answer that.

Alas, there are so many words and phrases that figuratively emulate the in-laws and I want them to GO AWAY!

First on my list is “Baby Daddy.” This expression has never been cute. It’s more annoying than “baby bump,” which has seen a decrease in usage in recent years. The REAL Baby Daddy drama is that it not only makes people sound stupid, it makes them sound slutty. Because the answer to the oft-asked “Who’s the baby daddy?” question is usually “I don’t know.” Unless said Baby Mama has already been on Maury to find out.  Plus, the phrase is completely redundant, as determined by the Department of Redundancy Department.

Negative words meaning positive things: I’m old. When you say something is “sick,” I might end up  asking if said something has seen a doctor. Then I would feel stupid. Don’t make me feel stupid. You won’t like me when I’m feeling stupid. Because then I will use all my ammunition to make YOU feel stupid. “Bad” isn’t too bad … er … evil. I think mainly because Michael Jackson helped me understand that bad means good. Somehow I’m down with the use of “fly” meaning something is cool. But I think that went out of fashion when “In Living Color” was canceled.

Nonsensical abbreviations, aka txt spk:  If you have to spell out LOL in actual conversation by saying “ell-oh-ell,” you need to go back to school for remedial English.  Again.  Believe it or not, it’s actually easier to literally laugh.  Out loud.  You don’t even have to be rolling on the floor or losing your ass by laughing it off.  Just a plain old laugh will suffice.  Plus, it burns more calories.  Oh, and really?  You can’t spell out ‘you,’ a measly three-letter word? You have to use ‘u’? Seriously, people. If you don’t start actually spelling out words, you’re going to look pretty stupid when you draft your first corporate memo by saying: Hi Team, Ur doing a grt job. I totes ❤ ur work. I appreci8 da F-ort u put in 2 ur project. But u can’t be L8 4  wrk again, k? Thx. ttfn.” Oh, and don’t get me started on the mixed upper- and lowercase letters. Double-you tee eff!

Adding extra consonants to the end of a word:  OMG, I think this will totes bug me foreverrrrrr.

Now pull up your pants and go get a dictionary.

Let the Lego helicopter pilot deal with the hostage takers.

I recently watched the season finale of the Glades (Matt Passmore is smokin’ hot!), and was a little mystified by the whole “I want a helicopter” thing that hostage takers always demand.

I want a helicopter, too, by the way, but I’m not holding anyone against their will, unless you count my dog when she wants to go for a walk and I’m too lazy to take her.

But back to my original thought. These bad guys don’t always get their helicopters.  Usually the smart Columbo-esque good guys wind up outsmarting the bad guys and the helicopter never appears.

But on The Glades, there was the helicopter, as requested.

Which got me to thinking…what helicopter pilot would volunteer to fly away with a gun-toting villain??  Seriously.  Who would do that?

HOSTAGE NEGOTIATOR:  Hey, Sam. Yeah, we got a guy here with an AK-47 who wants to take a few hostages to Dominican Republic. I’m working on getting them their passports, but we need someone to fly them down.  In a helicopter, of course.

HELICOPTER PILOT:  Hostage takers, you say?  I’ve always wanted to work with some of them.  They’re armed with automatic weapons, you say?  Even better!  I’ll be right there!  Oh, and I happen to have an extra million doing nothing in my bank account, so I’ll bring that, too, so they have some spending money.

GOOD GUY (to Hostage Negotiator):  Tell him to hurry. They’ve got my girl and I don’t want them to harm a single hair on her head or I will hunt them down like a dog!

Then the helicopter arrives and the hostage taker(s) fly away (assuming the good guy hasn’t outsmarted them already).  Maybe these pilots secretly know that the good guys always win out in the end.

I still don’t buy it, though.  I’m just glad my husband, who used to report traffic from a helicopter, has never gotten wrapped up in one of these all-too-common events.