06 July 2007

What? No, really, what?

Oh me, oh my. What a day. I woke up at 9:30, getting ready to go into town (Atlanta). About 10:30, I meet my mom in the kitchen, after eating breakfast and bringing it back in (she makes it). She goes, "I saw this lady crying on the stairwell, and talked to her, while taking the boxes out to the car." We were going to run to the storage room while in town. Now, not so much.

So, the lady ends up knocking on our door. Apparently she'd been in a fight last night and walked about 5 miles to get here. Can we take her back to her house? Sure, we say, since my godmom asked earlier. I get dressed to take her. We (me, godmom, and lady) get in the car, she starts talking about what happened. The usual routine of "I was bruised, had a fight, I had to leave my kids." Right. You get the idea. Turns out, she knows of my mom. Right. That's a terrific recommendation, except totally not. So she keeps talking, and mama and I get keep getting a bad feeling.

She's living with her family, who are drug addicts and dealers. Greeeat. Go mama. Her mom had custody of her kids, but she died, so it reverted back to Jennifer, the chick. Riiight. Because they just took the kids away all willy-nilly. Me, I'm level-headed and I kept her from socking all the people she hated throughout the time. It comes from living with my family, I guess. She's calling the cops, DFACS (family services), her (ex-)boyfriend, her sister's ex (who was the one that let her in here), 911. We were there for 2 hours.

Let's see, her ex-husband, who is the father of two of three kids, was there next door. He had tried to break the fight up last night, and was pushed aside. She said, according to not!Depp (he looked a lot like Sparrow, which is kinda scary), that her kids were bastards and she didn't want him so he could have them. Her grandmother was gone, getting a TPO against her. Oh, yes. Her brother, the sex offender, was there in the house when he wasn't supposed to be. Her pregnant younger sister was there. Oh, god. It was a clusterfuck. Three cop cars, though one was a niiice truck. The truck was a deputy sheriff, the one she'd called in. Jennifer's screeching and acting like the fool, so the cops eventually get tired of her and threaten to take her to jail if she doesn't shut up. They're not really talking to her, so you know she was fucked up in the records department. She had a warrant out on her, too. Wonderful. My mom can land us in the strangest situations.

Long story short. After two hours of sitting with a chick we don't know, with some slight talking to the cops, we're really tired of this shit. Seriously, she's so white trash. Her ex-mother-in-law showed up, she started screaming at her, while I'm keeping an eye on my Blackberry that she's borrowing to make calls (thank god for 5000+rollover minutes). The cops have this look of "Oh, god. Let's just go home." Unfortunately, they can't. They're over this drama, like most sane people. The situation was fucked, a very vendetta all around thing. Jennifer and crew had the altercation last night, and she kept trying to bring that up, while the police were like "We can't deal with that." Oh, yes. These people were bright.

She had to go pee in a cup. Drug test. Thank god. She was getting on my nerves, to be honest. Even my infinite patience can be taxed out by druggies and trying to keep someone you don't know from slugging someone else you don't know.

One of the cops goes, "You don't have to stay here. Since you're just transport. You can just vamoose." And go we did. First we gave him our info. God, he was funny. He had hung his head down when Jennifer kept blabbing. Like "well, shit and damnation." You got the feeling he wanted us to leave, for safety matters. These folks were crazy. Though, both cops were all kinds of hot. I'd have gladly brought one home to keep.

We left her crap by the mailbox, where the cops pointed to. And we skedaddled, quickly. Had Arby's for lunch. Well deserved. We're having pizza for dinner, since we didn't unfreeze anything for dinner. You know, what supposed to be in Atlanta and all.

So that was my adventure. I was thisclose to landing into some white trash drug hell. *snort* I need to febreeze the hell out of the car, too. And take a long shower. And wash our clothes.

I forgot the best part! She was 30, had more than a few grey hairs, and had grandkids. Seriously. Grandkids that were like 2 or 3. *blinks* So how old were her kids that were having them? Thank god we dropped her off and fled.



Blogger Augs Casa said...

Hokies smokes, does this stuff just following you? In there a clause in your life contract that says find these weird people?

2:14 PM  
Blogger Jessie said...

*laugh* I think there really is. You have no idea about the 9 months I was in the dorms either. My friends wonder how I find the boring and the crazy people just by existing. I want to go over that clause and see if I can get a dead lawyer to talk to God. It's only fair.

Reminds me, I need tell about the "cosmic connection" a friend said she had with a celebrity. No, really. Her words, not mine.

3:46 PM  
Blogger The "Mind" said...

Good grief! You are way more patient than me. I honestly would have just called the cops and left her in the stairwell. LOL! And grandkids at 30? Cripes!

Oh, and can I just say how much this not only tickled me, but stood out amongst the "trash"...

"Though, both cops were all kinds of hot. I'd have gladly brought one home to keep."

Oh yes, take one home to keep. *giggle*

9:58 PM  
Blogger Jessie said...

*laugh* Well, my family kinda trained me to have patience. I'm used to breaking up physical fights. My mom didn't think to call the cops, and well, yeah. But hey! I'm caught up with good deeds for the year. And yes, grandkids, like 2 year old grandkids at 30 is just all kinds of Tobacco Road, isn't it?

Hey, I'm a sucker for a man in uniform. Good thing the breadman no longer makes house calls. ;) Or the milkman. Though if they did, I'd have some damn good looking kids. I'd hope. My luck, he'd be ugly as homemade sin and been beat with an ugly stick.

10:05 PM  
Blogger Misty Dawn said...

This story is insane! Sounds like redneck hillbilly heaven! No, I'm not insulting rednecks, cuz to be honest, I consider myself a redneck. But, this story is just crazy! I can't believe how patient you are and how you just take it all in stride like 'it's just another day in the neighborhood' LOL

10:44 PM  
Blogger Jessie said...

Oh, sweetie, I grew up with my mama's honky-tonky friends, like going to the bar in the middle of the school night cause Daddy had to go pick her up. Hell, she left my daddy because her coked out best friend brought drugs into the house and he finally grew a spine at that point.

Fighting and angry people are pretty low on my raising my patience scale. Now if she'd gotten stupid and pulled a weapon out, I'd have gladly let the cops attack her. I mean, I'm not that dumb. *grins* I think she was surprised I push back. I may be sweet for the most part, but that don't mean that I have no problems implementing some less than sweet tactics.

Hey, I am my mama's child.

2:39 AM  

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