So I was arrested yesterday.

Yeah. Good times.

Nick and I are on our way to Paul & Janene's when I get pulled over for speeding. I do 75 at all times so this doesn't surprise me. What does surprise me is when the cop asks me to exit my vehicle and begins handcuffing me.

Awesome.

Won't even tell me what the fuck is going on until he's done cuffing me. Apparently I had a warrent out for my arrest regarding a missed court date for a traffic ticket. My court date must have coinsided with getting laid off and that's why I spaced it. Stellar.

So I'm cuffed and frisked by the side of the fucking freeway. Not embarassing at all. I'm put in the back of the squad car. This is when I realize how claustrophobic it is back there, especially with my hands behind my back, and try hard not to freak out. The cop brings me my cell phone so I can call someone to come pick up my car, which is almost out of gas, and, oh yeah, my passenger is legally blind. He cuffs my hands in front of me and while doing so says something about me not trying to escape while he does so. I'm like yeah, right. I'm in heels, on gravel, by the side of the fucking freeway, probably gonna run off somewhere. So I call Jodi, praying to God she and Jason are home, and thankfully they are. Nothing like your friends seeing you in cuffs.

Then I have to wait in the car for some Tempe cop to come get me to take me to the Tempe jail. Sweet. It's not hot or anything. And with my hands cuffed behind my back I am incabable of wiping my forehead off so sweat is dripping into my eyes, stinging and blinding me. Awesome. The cop finally shows up and apparently needs to frisk me as well, all by the side of the fucking freeway. "Is there anything in your bra?" "Just me." Outstanding. We get to the jail and they feel the need to frisk me yet again. It's a feel-Niki-up free-for-all.

They take my ring, my earrings and my hair tie. Fantastic. They put me in a holding cell. Eventually they bring me out to fingerprint me. Awesome. They don't use ink anymore. I didn't know that. There's a glass pane that scans your prints. This whole time I'm honestly finding this whole experience fancinating. I'm thinking, so this is what it's like to be arrested. Sweet. This is what it's like to be handcuffed. (In a non-sexual way). There go my fucking plans to rob a bank. Fuck! Now that they have my prints that solution to my debt problem is out the window. Great. After the fingerprinting they hand me a blanket and are ready to take me back to the holding cell, intending to keep me overnight. I don't think so. I explain to them that the cop said my fine was $350 and that I could pay that and leave. They say to me, well you didn't tell us that. Oh, excuse me! I don't do this every fucking day. I'm kinda new here. I foolishly assumed that you cops fucking talked to each other and told each other this pertinent fucking shit. So yeah, FYI, I was told I could pay the fucking bail and be on my merry way. So they put me back in the holding cell while they sort themselves out. Meanwhile I'm in there with some poor girl who needed two grand to get out otherwise she's there till Tuesday (not the band) and gets fired from her job. I had heard her on the phone with her family earlier and thanked God I wasn't her.

They ran my credit card, put me in yet another holding cell, and eventually gave me back my shit, and I was free to leave. All in all, the whole ordeal took about three hours. I called Jodi to come pick my ass up, broke the news to my adoring parents, since their credit card saved the day, got a chuckle from Chuck, my good friend the cop in Santa Barbara, and a call back from my BFF Mitch: "Jailbird!".

Jodi and I proceeded to Macayos where I drank the largest forzen margarita they could make, and then continued my inebriation with Vigo at Gordon Biersch (two Mojitos), Fat Tuesdays (Pirates Pleasure), and Bison Witches (three Skyy Citrus and tonics). I settled the evening with a Lumberjack Slam at Denny's and now I have a sleepy Jameson at my feet on my coffee table.

It's good to be on the outside again. I almost forgot what freedom was like. Does the air still smell as clean? Is the Pacific still as blue? Things have changed since I've been in the clink. I hope I can readjust to the outside world.

*Auntie "Jailbird" Niki

Saint Valentine's Day Noir

From February 16, 2009

Valentine's Day was quite fantastic.

I took a trip to San Francisco for the book release party for San Fransico Noir 2: The Classics, a collection of noir short stories, one of which is penned by Mr. Craig Clevneger. Craig intended to spend the afternoon writing but we ended up talking for hours and then watching a really obscure and fantastic British TV show from the early 90s. Awesome. We went looking for food and ended up at this tiny cafe that serves crepes. I've never had a crepe with anything but Nutella, and only from a street vendor in Paris. I had no idea there was such a variety. I had one with smoked turkey, cheese and cranberries. Wow. So damn good.

We gussied up and walked down the couple of blocks to the Ha-Ra Club and it was packed. Tiny, but packed, with a jazz saxaphonist playing. The bartender was very W.C. Fields and a complete character. Craig had some friends there already and 3 of us ordered drinks and when the bartender brought them over he said, "I hope you all get the clap." Oh my God, we were rolling on the floor. He told another guy at the other end of the bar, "I'll get to you in a day or two." Priceless.

The evening started out a bit slow and there were times I felt like I was at a class lecture and the room was just silent. Craig seemed a bit nervous as he didn't warm up and prepare the way he usually does and he was worried that the audience was already comatose. I told him not to worry, his work was great and he has a great voice and is entertaining and egaging and he will be fabulous. The host started to introduce him and as he made his way to the mic one of the other authors, a tall bald former PI who has tea cup poodles and is a total riot, came right over and said to me, "You have excellent taste in men." Damn straight.

His reading was fantastic. The audience laughed and he made jokes and they were riveted. The story, The Numbers Game, is fucked up but in such a great way and very noir. Which is a good thing as it's a noir collection. His name is on the front cover next to Jack London and Mark Twain. Not bad company. Or Bad Company. At one point I yelled for some Free Bird. He recieved thunderous applause and yells and when the readings were over he made his rounds signing copies and shaking hands and meeting fans new and old. A little troupe of us walked back up the street to Route 101 and had cocktails and laughed and had delicious conversation. I felt like I knew these people for years the way we all just hit it off, and I recieved many demands to move to the city. Our glasses clinked on through the night.

(This reel missing)

In the morning we sat and talked and played with the kitties Ralph and George until one, and we meandered down the street to have lunch at Tommy's. So much food, so good, so cozy. Then Craig took me to City Lights Bookstore. OhmyGodOhmyGodohmyGod. Be still my Beating heart. Three floors. The kid behind the counter had been the kid behind the table selling the anthology the night before. We wandered the store and he picked up three copies of the anthology, one which was for me. We spent my last few hours next door at Vesuvio which was THE Beat bar, and had a very Tombstoney feel to me, and drank and talked and talked and talked as the rain poured down and into the window next to us on the second floor.

George - "had eyes the color of a gas flame and this unwavering, blinkless blue stare, like he could bend metal with his mind."

Ralph - "was a leaden stump of orange fur. I never saw Ralph move from his spot on Skinner's balcony, not once, but I never saw the same pile of feathers beside him either.

San Fran is one hell of a town. When I told my dad Craig lives in the Tenderloin he said, "Oh my GOD. How many guns does he own?" It's probably not the safest part of town, it's true. But it was bustling and full of creative people. It rained all day yesterday and kicking it at the airport was awesome. My flight was delayed almost 4 hours. I truly miss the pre-911 days when friends could see you all the way to the gate. We could have hung out for a few more hours. Thank God the plane showed up earlier than expected. I still got in at around 1:30 this morning. At least I'm more than half way through Steve Martin's autobiography now. Sky Mall catalouge. Bonus! I'm looking forward to another trip to the city.

Happy Valentine's Day to you, darlin'!

Tonsil Hockey

Oh, tonsils. Those dirty little bastards in the back of my throat. They've been evicted and their move out date in 9/29.

I hear it's going to be pretty damn awesome. And by awesome I mean wicked painful. I'll be off work for two weeks, without pay which makes it double awesome, and living off liquidy type things. I hear tell I'll lose 10-15 pounds that I'll put right back on when I start eating again. So I'm just not going to eat anymore. I mean, screw food. What has it ever done for ME?

Both of my parents, count 'em - both, are driving out to take me to the hospital and bring me home. I knew it would take a medical malfunction to get my parents to come visit me. They don't get out so much.

I get tonsillitis at least twice a year, usually in the summer and then around Christmas. I have to see a doctor 3 times for each infection they're so bad. Sometimes they swell up and touch each other in the back of my throat leaving me a pea size opening to breathe through. Those are the best times. Then I go to the ER and get shot full of morphine and vicodin and go home and halucinate strange creatures jumping out of the shadows trying to kill me. I know you're jealous.

So I've had about enough of that shit right there. Time to scrape 'em out. I've read some down right horror stories about how painful it is and I'm trying not to think about it. I'm just tired of being sick and hopefully this will cure me of that. I'ma see if they'll let me keep them. In a jar. I can shelack them and make an amulet. Who wants first dibs?