"I got a star on my car and one on my chest,
A gun on my hip and the right to arrest
I'm the guy who's the boss on this highway
So watch out what you're doin' when you're drivin' my way
If you break the law, you'll hear from me, I know
I'm a-workin' for the state, I'm The Highway Patrol"  -- Junior Brown

Okay, so I'm not the Highway Patrol, but you get the point. (I have a cousin that works for our Highway Patrol. He drives a Camaro. Lucky bastard.)

Brody's back to work. Has been for a bit now. He's changed. I think the second he was shot, The Book must have flown from his hand, the stick came out of his ass and he realized that my way of doing things is *much* more fun than his way.

I noticed his change only when we went to our favorite weapons store (guns, knives, itching powder, puke juice, cane swords and anything else that equals fun) and loaded up on stink bombs. Hmm.

Every so often, county shares a case with city. We exchange information, settle jurisdiction issues and generally decide who's going to do what to whom. This requires delivering the shared information to the city department by hand. I went a couple weeks ago, and I played nice. Brody went two days ago, and apparently made a pretty good impression...

My husband is Mr. Serious a good 90% of the time. Especially when it comes to work. Everyone knows that. But I think, in all his seriousness, there's a small part of him way down deep that never matured past the age of 11.

Somewhere in his visit to the city department, he excused himself to use the restroom. Upon his exit, he made a visit to the locker room and quickly popped his head into the front desk area. He shook hands with the officer that helped him, and he left. It only took half an hour for news to travel across the county.

It'll take city a week to get the stench out of the building. Assuming they find all of the planted "presents".

I'm so proud.