Keith and I are up at this hour–well, I’m always up at this hour–because 1-Host sucks. Tech support assures us that we have email addresses, but for over 24 hours now, we’ve received nothing at our Cricket Feet, Hollywood Happy Hour, Casting Qs, or Faith Salie email accounts. And, anyone who has sent anything has also not received back a bounce notice of any kind, alerting them that email did not reach us. Nice.
But here’s what’s exciting:
There was just a felony stop (Keith says that’s the standard lingo) outside our apartment. The cop got over the loudspeaker and ordered the guy to toss his keys out of the car, keep his hands out the window while opening his own car door and then getting out of the car, walking backwards five steps with his hands up and shirt pulled up over his chest, etc.
VERY exciting to hear all of the stuff that we only ever hear on COPS and realize that’s all by the book lingo. Tee hee.
Of course, I want to run outside and see. Keith assures me that would be unwise, as this kind of stop often turns into one in which guns are used, since, hey, they’re already drawn and such.
But I really really really want to run outside and see!!
No. I stay in and listen, reporting back to Keith, who tells me he’s smarter by being farther away from the window than I am–justified of course, by me, in that a bullet couldn’t penetrate the window (duh). I tell him, “Ooh! They just had the guy cross his ankles!”
I am so easily amused.
Yes, this is the kind of post, were my mother still alive, I could never make. She’d make me move. Tomorrow.