I AM NOT MATHEW MCCONAUGHEY

It has come to my attention that certain parties think that I am not who I represent myself to be, but really someone like Mathew McConaughey. Nothing could be farther from the truth! It is totally unfair to Mr. McConaughey to even suggest such a thing, particularly for the reasons advanced. Just because I am given to periodic flights of craziness or the occasional lesbian fantasy does not mean that I have a life, much less that I am a well-known person who is tall, dark and handsome with women falling all over him, and tons of money. I tried that fantasy today and it failed miserably. You think I'm kidding don't you.

Yesterday I left physical therapy and headed to the elevator. I have a therapist in a high rise building. I had been working out for almost two hours, and was emitting phermones at a high rate. I got on the elevator going down, and one floor down, two female lawyers got on, deeply engrossed in a legal brief. Something triggered something, because the discussion turned from writs of mandamus to Johnny Depp in a flash. One of them joked that she would keep Johnny and make him happy to never leave. The other was describing why he would want to move in when we got to the floor I parked on and had to leave. I didn't want to leave, trust me, I wanted to be Johnny Depp.

I pulled out of the garage, and smiled at the young girl who collects the money when you leave the building. She's gorgeous and is studying to be a nurse. I always cheer her on, and give her the pep talk and a smile, particular at exam time. Secretly, I wish she was a slut with an unquenchable need for bald guys with a bad back. A little fantasy life never hurt anyone. I had my seat belt on for the flight home. The phasers were primed, and we had a full bay of photon torpedoes. I was prepared to venture out onto Interstate 270, where we teach Naval pilots the basics of aerial combat. And as I flew, I was becoming Johnny Depp, Pirate/Buchaneer. Yo ho ho.

I shot the gap at my exit, and slid through the exit ramp and came to a halt at the light 1.2 miles from my house. And then, it dawned on me. With a completely cavalier attitude at 3:00 PM yesterday afternoon, in light to non-existant traffic, I cast off my seat belt, in violation of The Law. I laughed madly at my new found profligate behavior. Come and get me coppers, you'll never take me alive! Johnny Depp was now playing Jimmy Cagney, but he was doing it so well! I waited at the light with my turn signal on, announcing how criminal I was.

I made the turn, laughing madly, knowing that the lawyer in the building would soon have me, and then, a flashing light came on in the rear view mirror. In less than a picosecond (1000 picoseconds in a nanosecond so we're talking tiny) I am a model citizen. Car is pulled over, hands are prominently displayed on the wheel, I am smiling, and the window is coming down. The officer who walks over is local from the town I live in, someone who knows me and my wife. She is about 24, a red head, she should have been a model. She ignores her looks. No one else is capable of doing that within 100 yards of her.

The discussion goes like this:
Officer: Hi, Mr. CEO
Me: Hi Officer, Please just call me O.
Officer: How's your wife, I haven't seen either of you since the City's Christmas Party. Are you both OK?
Me: Well, Judy is fine, and I just have the usual problems that most trophy husbands have. Is something wrong?
Officer: Well, I know how smart you are, (and she opens the door), and I see you aren't wearing your seat belt, and I remember the problem you had with yor arm, and really, if you can't attach your seat belt, I'll be glad to do it for you. (And she grabs the belt and leans into the car over me and tucks the seat belt into place, almost lying down on me in the process. To balance herself, she put her hand on my seat between my legs. She kept talking, my brain went onto a red alert [brain to penis: freeze; penis to brain: rotflmao , you now have a pole suitable for vaulting] returning to parenthetical expression (what you can't see in this steamy image is the 38 caliber Baretta with 15 rounds on her hip and the night stick, if she isn't 'taking' me, I'm smiling and trying to leave with a smile on my face. I'm not that fond of other people with guns on top of me. Must be a control problem. I'll worry about that one when I get some blood pressure back. Johnny Depp and Jimmy Cagney are history.) And if you ever have any problems again, you make sure you come see me, it's not safe to drive around without your seat belt on.
Me: Thank you so much, Officer, I'll remember that in the future. If i don't see you at the next City Council meeting, I'll see you at the Christmas Party.

Me and the Buchaneer could have walked home faster than I drove. And when I got there, my wife said, "you look exhausted, why don't you take a nap?" After I woke up, she thought it was so funny that I wrote it up. So, I am not Johnny Depp, nor Tom Cruise, nor anyone else. I have put up a disclaimer. Lesbian fantasys are so much easier, and I am never going to worry about them driving home.