“I can’t believe you’re arresting me…again.”
I remember when I was a little spunky red head only 3-feet tall. I believed I could do anything I wanted, be whatever I wanted to be, and then you move out of your parent’s house and you think “Wait, I actually have to like work for things?!?”
Growing up as a redhead, I got teased (A LOT). Carrot-top, Apple, Fire crotch — okay I kind of liked fire crotch, but I liked anything that related to sex or sexual organs. I was a horny fire crotch, but I got sick of standing out and dyed my hair blonde. I just wanted to blend in
My parents paid all of my bills the first two years of college, under the agreement that I would keep my grades above a 3.0 grade point average; which would have been totally reasonable if I would have shown up to class at least three times a week. I remember walking into my Philosophy 101 class (after not showing up for the last two weeks) feeling like I just got hit by a train after a night of partying. I staggered to the back row of the class. The teacher walks in with a stack of papers and his comb-over hairdo (why some men just can’t accept the fact that they are balding and shave their head is beyond me. Go ahead, hang on to that last ounce of hope your receding hair line (that has protracted to the back of your skull) is totally not noticable.
“Well, I’m happy to report that most of you did very well on your final.”
FINAL! What final? Shit. Fuck shit fuck. Slouching in my chair, wishing I would have followed my gut feeling and stayed in bed all day I lean over to the girl next to me, “Excuse me, what exactly is he handing back?”
Giving me a dirty look, like she is so much better than me (She’s not), “The final that we took last week, weren’t you listening?”
Shut up bitch don’t talk to me, I thought and smiled.
As he starts handing back the finals, I began devising a plan to get the fuck out of there. How embarrassing would it be for everyone to have a final on their desk reviewing it, and I didn’t even have a scrap of paper to pretend it was my final or any dignity for that matter.
“I have to go to the bathroom.” I said loud enough so little Miss-Goodie-two-shoes next to me could hear me.
Looking over at me like I am bothering her again, “then go.” (I hate your face)
Shut up twat.
I calmly and slowly walked down the stairs; I couldn’t lose my cool in public. It’s not good for my rep. As soon as I exited the door, I ran as fast as I could out of the building. I was out of there faster than a crack head out of crack! Well, you get my point. Now that I am never returning to that class, I thought, I need a drink.
In Chico, the parties line the streets of downtown all week. Chico did not get its party reputation from nowhere (is that a word). Loud music, hot boys, skimpy outfits, STD’s – it was a blast. This is what I had looked forward to for so many years. Even with my blonde hair, it wasn’t long before I started to stand out again, and this time it was the law enforcement that was picking on me; and they weren’t calling me fire crotch. I was loud, obnoxious, totally hott, and not afraid to wander off alone. In the four years I lived in Chico, I got arrested 35 times all for Public Intoxication.
I know, I know, I was really good at drinking. The entire Oroville county jail staff knew me by name( I thought this was cool by the way). But, how could I take this “getting arrested” seriously? They held me over night and released me in the morning charge-free. This was a piece of cake and sure as hell wasn’t enough to get me to even think about staying sober.
One particular time, I was with my boyfriend (of the moment) at a Halloween party. I looked forward to Halloween, it was an excuse to dress slutty. Yes, what you’ve heard about us freaky red heads is true (in other words, I was a total slut — the good kind) I was dressed up as Rainbow Bright wearing yellow-boy underwear, thigh-high-rainbow socks, 6-inch heels, and a pink scarf tied around my tits (which I had just bought with a settlement from a car accident I had gotten in two years before. I got $10,000. I spent $8,000 on my new tits and $2,000 on cocaine — snuff said).
My boyfriend and I had gotten in a fight (surprise, surprise i totally did it on purpose) No biggie, I didn’t need him, I have big tits ( I wish they were bigger). So I wandered off from the party. I was staggering down the street. NO ONE could bring me down. Alcohol made me invincible. Right? Okay shut up. I had no clue where I was going, but I was determined to find my way home. I hadn’t brought any money that night because I had no pockets, and I always tried to avoid carrying a purse (that was just another thing I’d have to keep track of, my dignity was enough). Plus who pays for things?
A cop car pulls up next to me (I always wanted to fuck a cop). There were two cops in the squad car, subconscious says, “they want me.” As they rolled down the passenger window the cop, enthusiastically ready to pounce, says, “And where might you be headed to?” “I’m trying to find my way home, Sir.” I slurred in a high pitched voice. There was no hiding that I was under the influence — I was an experienced drunk.
They pulled over and exited the car. Walking up to me, they looked me up and down, so I posed with my knee bent, my hand on my hip, slight head tilt and half smile ( I was totally holding in a fart) . One of them grabbed my arm “It’s not safe for you to be walking out here alone. We are going to have to arrest you for drunk in public.”
“What!?” pulling my arm from his grasp. Subconscious says, Come on Em, you can fuck your way out of this! But before I could blink, they tackled me to the ground. One of them was jamming their knee in between my shoulder blades, and the other had his hand on the back of my head shoving my face into a muddy puddle — totally rude (I was still holding in a fart by the way). They made sure to put the cuffs on really tight and threw me in the back of the cop car- this was totally not how I imagined my intimate fantasy with a cop. Total let down but I waited for the perfect time to release…The second he got in the car and shut the door, i let it rip (Go ahead and judge me, he deserved it).
When they escorted me into the jail, the booking officer was eagerly awaiting my arrival “Oh looky here, Grove’s back!” (They loved me). They placed me in a cell with a homeless looking lady. She was probably around 40 years old, but the wrinkles on her face made her look older than my grandma’s vagina. I could tell this lady had lived a hard life and probably wasn’t her first time behind bars. Let’s just say there was more misfortune between the two of us than in a man getting struck by lightning while being eaten by a shark.
I was pissed off at this point. Not only did the cop not hit on me (he got what he deserved when I let it rip in his car HA) but they put me in a cell with this stinky hobo. Oh and you should know, when I’ve got alcohol gushing through my veins, I’m brave (like superman — the wheelchair one). The tramp moved close to me and started muttering to herself. Her breath sailed toward me and smelt like something had crawled in her and died. In other words, it smelled like complete shit (not like my shit, my shit smells like roses) I wasn’t sure if I should offer her a mint or toilet paper. I didn’t have either, so I looked her straight in her veteran eyes and said, “Shut the fuck up and brush your teeth HAHA!”
She looked up at me appearing detached and came at me full force. She grabbed my hair, and I grabbed hers (what was left of it). Tussling around on the floor like two stray dogs for about a minute before the officers rushed in and ripped us apart. The officer slammed me up against the tile wall. CRACK! My top front tooth hit the wall and chipped in half (No, im not kidding you).
“My tooth! My tooth!” I started shouting! They looked down, uncaring, picked it up, and threw me in the cell across from the homeless lady, who was looking through the window of her cell thrilled to attack me again “ ha-ha your tooth is gone!! Ha-ha your tooth!!”- So ANNOYING.
The alcohol was beginning to wear off. My anger began to mount as my confidence started to shrink. I still wanted to rip her head off but this cell rendered me more helpless than a midget with a yoyo.
And now, reality began to set in. I had no dental insurance, and I was not looking forward to explaining to my parents how this all happened (they wouldn’t have cared anyways). A couple hours later they released me from jail. They returned my belongings and in a plastic zip lock bag with my tooth — Gee thanks, I’ll just go home and glue this back on.
So here I was, standing outside the jail, waiting for my boyfriend to come pick me up. – Who was late, by the way. It was 7 am, and I looked like a hooker on the corner of Bourbon Street at 3 am. I was wearing 6 inch heels (pretty much naked) with a mud crusted face, and a chipped front tooth. And all I could think was; I need a fuckin’ drink!