So, while moving Jim Polak (who, I may have forgot to mention, lives on my couch) back from Seattle there were almost two citations issued.

First, my brother, right after leaving a bar in Montana (we had to hang out with the townies) got pulled over for doing somewhere around 50 in a 25 MPH zone. Don’t ask me why the speed limit is 25 on an interstate. The officer probably also saw us make an illegal U-turn or two. She let us go with just “watch out, there’s a lot of animals and if you hit them you die” kind of warning.

The second was while I was driving. I was going a bit over 100 MPH down Route 90 (speed limit, though, was 75). I flew by a cop who was in one of those little turnabouts cops love to take radar in, but he never even pulled out.

This was especially good as I’m on “Court Supervision” and if I get another ticket they tell my insurance company to hit me with a stick.

Saturday I got to, once again, see my favorite band — They Might Be Giants. Oh baby. Entertaining show, although they did get in trouble for the cursing and had to switch to double entendres.

Which is a shame, because the kids like the cursing.