In My Not So Humble Opinion

My friend Christopher (aka @jackassletters) is owner and chief writer of the funniest letters to dignitaries and corporate figureheads you’ll ever read. Visit his site for the hilarity, and then come back to read my letter, below.

Disclaimer: I wrote the letter in an attempt to write a guest post for Jackass Letters. I do not smoke pot, and I really didn’t expect them to send me any samples. It’s no surprise, however, they didn’t respond. Since they didn’t, the letter won’t end up on Christopher’s website. I’m posting it here, because I can’t throw anything away, and it’s too good to waste.
 

This post has nothing to do with Charlie Sheen.

I love winning. Winning is awesome. Especially in a “I fought the law and I won” kind of way.

We (by which I mean “husband”) got a speeding ticket January 26 in the “speed traps are an excellent revenue stream” town of Sheridan. Read my initial rant.

Not one to sit back and take the abuse, husband did some research. He’s awesome at research. Turns out, state regulations require all speed limit signs to be posted a minimum of 7 feet from the ground to the bottom of the sign. So, the sign, which didn’t meet regulations, could not be enforced. Win.

Furthermore, since cars were parked all along that side of the street, the “School Zone” sign wasn’t visible, and could not be enforced. Win.

Since there was no other speed limit sign on the street, the 30 mph speed limit for residential areas was the only one they could enforce. We were traveling at 31 mph, which could be explained away by possible deviations in equipment calibration. Win.

We took photos and video to prove our case, and gave them to our fabulous attorney, Geoffrey Pearson. He spoke to the DA, who refused to dismiss the case, and gave us a plea bargain of a one-point violation of a defective headlamp. Thinking that was probably our best bet, we accepted and went into court.

The traffic court judge took the plea, and ordered husband to pay $200 in fines, plus $50 in court costs. And then, totally unexpected, he said there was still an issue of a defective sign, and said if we provided proof within 120 days, he’d drop the points. When good old Geoffrey showed him the evidence husband had gathered, the judge reduced the points to ZERO. Big win.

Geoffrey said this never happens. The judge never overrules a plea bargain. After our case was over, the judge took husband’s evidence, called the bailiff (a cop) up to the bench to talk to him about the sign. I hope this means the sign gets raised, and other law-abiding people aren’t victimized by this speed trap.

The moral of the story: A little bit of research can save you a few bucks. Better in your pocket than the court’s.

When we went out to run errands on Sunday, the City of Sheridan tried (unsuccessfully) to get into our pockets one more time. They had their photo-radar van parked on a street with road construction (and no workers, because it was SUNDAY). Because they’re all about public safety. And because road construction areas are double the fine of any other street.

We’re wise to your games, Sheridan. We got you this time. You won’t get us again. Because we play to win.

April 1st is my second-favorite “holiday”, and my third-favorite day of the year. I’ve been playing silly tricks on people for nigh on 40 years. They’re always juvenile and transparent. I like the “victim” to laugh along with me.

This year, I sent out an April Fools email, hoping people would “get” it, and catch me in the prank. Sadly, less than 4% of my friends clicked the link, and even fewer got the joke, which ended up with me backpedaling about 100 times.

Worst April Fools Day joke, ever.

Here’s the over-the-top, pompous, self-promotional email I sent:

Anyone who’s been on the internet for any length of time would know what they’d get when they click the link. But not my trusting friends. Not the people who believe in me. The people I totally betrayed with a simple joke that they didn’t get.

I’m such a jerk.

So then, to all the people who sent congratulations without clicking the link, and all the others who responded to tell me the link went to the wrong video, and not mine, I sent another email:

LOL! Happy April 1st. You’ve been Rickrolled. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rickrolling

Nobody; not a single person replied with “Ha ha, you got me.” Obviously, I’m the most hated person in my social circle right now.

Wait just a minute… I’m not a jerk.

How big is the rock all these people have been living under ??? That Rick Astley video has over 31 MILLION views. I’m not the only one doing a bit of rickrolling. Are my friends the only people on earth who have never been rickrolled? For crying out loud, even the Mets and Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade were rickrolled. If this meme has gone on so long that things as All-American as Parades and Baseball have been rickrolled, how have these people never heard of it?

I am boggled. Absolutely boggled.

Of course, husband (Mr. Voice of Reason) said not to do the Rickroll. Naturally, I didn’t listen to him, which means he has a whole wad of “I told you so’s” he’s waiting to drop on me.

Fine.

I was making fun of Google for giving away the punch line too early in this years’ April Fools joke, and as it turns out, mine didn’t even have a punch line.

To my friends, and family, feel free to borrow my pick and shovel to get yourself out from under that rock, so you can join the rest of the world. Don’t say I never gave you anything. Besides chicken pox.

My good friend Christopher is one of the funniest people I know. We’ve never met face-to-face, and never talked on the phone, but we met on Twitter, and clicked. One of the many reasons I love twitter: I’ve met some totally awesome people who I consider friends, who live in parts of the world I have no plans to visit. Don’t judge me. I can make friends IRL, too. Twitter just cuts through the crap, and doesn’t require me to clean my house on a regular basis on the outside chance someone might stop by for tea and cookies.

Mmmm… tea and cookies. BRB.

Christopher’s website JackassLetters.com is a total hoot. He composes strange, silly, and unexpected letters to famous people and businesses, and then posts their responses. Don’t click the link until you’ve read the letters below to get a hint of what you’re in for.

Letter to SmartyKat:

I can’t believe they didn’t write back. Since my cat loves SmartyKat and Whisker Lickin’s, I was really hoping for some answers.

To show you what a cat lover he is, he said I could share Letter #2, to Scoop Away, another product we use in our house. And, as a mom, I think his idea is bordering on brilliant. Or insanity.

Either way, enjoy:

Okay, now go to His Website. If you don’t laugh your ass off, I don’t know you at all.

Then, do this for me, and everyone who cherishes the written word: If you have 5 bucks (or more) laying around, buy yourself some good karma and send it to Christopher so he can keep me, and all his fans, in stitches.

Springtime in Colorado is fabulous. Sunshine, warm breeze, flowers popping their little heads out of the ground. Many people (Hi Dad!) think all of Colorado is under an eternal ice cap with occasional glimpses of sun, but it’s quite the opposite. I live in the burbs of Denver, where we get 300 days of sunshine, or so the Chamber of Commerce (who would never exaggerate, right?) says.

Some people hate our weather because it’s so unpredictable. It can be 75 degrees one day, and 35 the next. We’ll have a day that’s so windy, Antie Em would be calling frantically for Dorothy, followed by a dumping of snow, and then a day of shorts and sandals. I lived far too long in the Midwest with its predictable weather; snow starts falling in September, and stays on the ground until the last of the permafrost melts in June. I’ll take the fickle weather, since it brings with it the ability to see the actual ground more days than not.

So, today, I’m out driving my VW Passat with the sunroof open, enjoying the sunshine and wind in my hair, being a big girl and resisting the urge to put my hands out the top to wave at passersby. I was feeling as sassy as a cat on a window sill, and pitied all the poor folks with solid metal over their heads. As I pulled up to the light, all smug and happy, a pretty blue Corvette convertible pulled alongside me in the next lane. The driver smiled at me with sun on his face. And I still had plenty of metal above my head.

Well played, Mr. Corvette. Well played.