F*&% the Police!

I'm a little pissed off at the po po this morning.

Wes is in Chicago until next Thursday. He's a police officer.

Yesterday morning, at 6am, the phone rang, and it was the police department, calling to ask if he wanted to come in for overtime. I politely and sleepily explained that he was out of town for a week, and to please make a note of that on the roster and not to call again for him until he returned for his regularly-scheduled shift next Sunday.

This morning at 6am, the phone rings again. I wake up, climb out of bed to answer it, and its the police department again, asking for Wes. I again explained that he was away and to please make a note of that fact.

Motherfuckers. Do you know what happens when this pregnant girl gets a 6am call??? Yes, I'm now awake for the freakin' day, doing laundry at 7am. And, no, I can't just shut all of the ringers off because what if there was an emergency or something.

If they call again tomorrow, the rage will ensue.