Archive for Arrested

Day 25: “You Want to See F***ing CR@ZY?!”

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on May 18, 2011 by Veronica Graham

So… I had quite a bit to drink last night.  Drunk does not wear well on an emotional, borderline girl like myself… Buzzed doesn’t even wear well.  The thing is, everyone always looks at me like I’m this walking time bomb like any minute I’m going to flip out, toss some vases, and scream like King Kong or something… And sometimes I do.  But last night, as I threw back the drinks, everyone: my family, my brother, probably his new girlfriend, and Kimmie tip toed around me like I was about to go bat-shit crazy.  And I probably would have if it WASN’T for my few drinks.

Growing up poor, often times it’s really hard to be around my Dad’s side of the family.  Here, they talk about things like golf, careers, and such.  Something about these conversations immediately put me on edge:  I don’t have a typical “career” although I love my work (Is that a check from Lifetime Television I see?  Yes it is!), I have no love life except for my growing crush on the Irish Ugly Hot guy (found out yesterday he’s from Cork, Ireland… which now I know everything about thanks to Google!), and the only girly conversation I can stand is about shoes, movies, and make up- and only good ones at that.  So, often times I feel like the third wheel, sitting in a country club conversation that I don’t know how to be a part of… But I try.  And usually fail.  I’ll throw out a, “Yeah, love it when they make a goal in golf!”  “Is it the khaki pants that makes Arnold Palmer’s ass so hot?”  “Mmmmm… these horderves are quite delectable… no, I’m not from England… I don’t know where that accent just came from…” and  “Yes, yes, my pinky is sticking out… I thought that was the proper way to drink a Bud Light..”  By the end of dinner or whatever gathering, everyone is just about uncomfortable with me.  Can’t we just talk about sex?!  Isn’t that the one topic we can all agree that we enjoy?!  Even though I know how to dress and present myself as a rich, suburban snob… I can’t do it for long without feeling totally fake!  There’s something in me that just wants to uncross my legs in my Banana Republic dress, swear like a sailor, and check out hot guys!  But I hold it in and as I do that, tension and my emotions start to get the best of me and everyone can sense it.  Uh oh, Veronica’s gonna snap… She can get a little… crazy.  This is usually where I prove them right.

The night I was arrested for littering, I had met up with Kimmie for dinner.  This is after a long spout of not speaking and I really wanted to make amends with her.  I should have talked about how I was sorry about not going to Ireland and pretty much flushing her money down the toliet, how Iago had totally consumed my life and how lonely I had become.  Instead, I talked about how the world was against me.

“That sounds pretty immature.”

“That’s the way it is!” I declared.

I don’t remember Kimmie saying much during this conversation, but i do remember her eye rolls she doesn’t think she does, and her shaking her head a few times.  I ranted.  I went off about how my family hated me, the only thing I had left in this world was Iago and he wasn’t enough, and the world was against me so all I could do was fight back.  I DECLARED all of this, not just said it- DECLARED it to be the truth.

As we were walking back to our cars, I continued ranting and quoting the things you usually hear from rappers:  Fuck the world!  You better respect me, bitches!  I don’t owe you nothing!  I don’t need nobody!

“Pride comes before the fall,” Kimmie quoted and left.

I got into my car and lit my cigarette.  Puffing on it so hard it burned my lungs and damn, it felt good.  I flicked the cig out the window and the next thing I knew, blue and red lights were behind me.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” I pulled the car over and was huffing and puffing with anger.

The cop came to my window and said, “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“No.”

“You littered a cigarette and I’m going to have to write  you a ticket.”

At this point, I went into full on HULK mode.  When the cop came back with the ticket and asked me to sign it, I told him to “F” himself.  “I’ve been throwing cigarettes out my window since I was FOURTEEN YEARS OLD!  I’m not signing that ticket!!!”

“Fine, then you’ll go to jail.”

“FINE!”

Man, would I regret that.  He handcuffed me and the next thing I knew I was on my way to the police station, screaming.  I wish I could say I was screaming words, but I’m not quite sure.  I was so drunk with anger, I don’t even remember.  But they did drug test me, gave me a breathalizer and they all came out negative.

The next thing I knew, a cop said, “This is an SS.”

“WHAT’S AN SS???”

Strip Search.  I was so irate that they didn’t believe it could just be from anger.  As they stripped searched me with a few cops monitoring, probably for the poor female cop’s safety, I screamed, “Oh!  Is this how you cops get your jollies off?!  HUH?”

I was tossed into Solitary Confinement… because I was a threat to others.  “I GET A PHONE CALL!” I was screaming.  The cops were ignoring me.  I screamed and cried the entire night until a new shift came on to give me my breakfast through my little slot.  I threw it back at them and cried, “I DON’T WANT YOUR BREAKFAST!”

“You don’t even want the cookies?” The female cop asked.

“I DON’T WANT ANY FUCKING COOKIES!  I WANT A PHONE CALL!!!”

I called Iago and he called one of his shady drug dealer people to bail me out.  As we were finishing up my paperwork, the magistrate asked me, “Don’t you wish you would have signed that ticket?”

I still had too much pride in me to admit that I probably should have signed the ticket and said, “Thank you, Officer.  Will never happen again.”  Instead, I looked him straight in the eye and said, “NO.”

Last night as I was fuming with anger again for being misunderstood by my family, I was going to head to a bar and get trashed by myself.

“That’s a really bad idea,” Kimmie said.

“I don’t care,” I responded.  She rolled her eyes.

By the time we had driven back to the area, she had convinced me to just go home.  It’s easy for me to confide in her more so than others- maybe because I’ve witnessed her Asian fury more than once:  throwing a drink on a douchebag at a bar, getting into a physical fight once (she wasn’t winning, but to be fair- she did stand up to a guy twice her size and about 200 pounds, and by the time it really got good.. enough guys stepped in), and countless “check please!” moments because her big mouth.  I listened to her- for once- and woke up today, determined to make it an awesome day and it was… I had slept away my anger and didn’t get myself into trouble.  My best friend is a good angel on my shoulder, but anger-days happen for me too often and when I’m usually not around my friend… So what do I do then?  Should I take up meditation?  Should I drink more?  I don’t know.. I guess I’ll have to cross that bridge when I get to it.

Here’s to 341 Days, Veronica Graham, You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry…