86/365...I love this toothbrush.

This is a tooth-and-gum toothbrush. My gums pretty much suck. I decided to give this a try...omg. I didn't want to stop brushing. The rubber bristles? They totally work.

Today my mom got rear-ended driving to work. The asshole whined that he didn't have a license and don't call the cops, please!!!! He ended up fleeing the scene several minutes later. Thankfully a witness to the accident followed the guy, my mom got nearly the whole plate number, and they said that they had a visual of the car.
If it had been me, first I would've told the guy to go fuck himself, I would've made him pose for a picture, taken pictures of the entire scene, and if Israel had been with me you would bet your ass I would've made sure the guy knew my dog doesn't take shit from people.
It reminded me of one of the most exciting nights of my life. It's a long and exciting story that happened September 27th, 2004:

Some jerkoff driving a black Pontiac Grand Prix was riding Rachel’s bumper and she made a comment about what a jerk he was. He swung into the right lane, cut her off, the car in front of us was going to slow for him so he cut over again, sped forward and cut back once again into the left lane. Right after that he nearly ran off the road, the tires going into the grass median dividing the lanes. Our conversation halted as we stared in disbelief at this complete !@#$% idiot who was acting like Mario Andretti.

Rachel said, “Any moron can drive like that. He’s such an asshole.”

I agreed and we resumed our conversation.
We approached the intersection where there was a red light, the black Grand Prix in front of us. Rachel glanced over at me as we were talking and glanced back at the road just as the black car rearended the white Jeep stopped at the stoplight. Rachel gasped and said, “That moron just hit that guy!”

I looked up in time to see the black car rock back on it’s shocks and the driver of the Jeep get out of the car and approach the driver of the Pontiac. Rachel turned down the radio, rolled down her window and we tried to listen. I saw smoke floating out from the open driver’s side window. I thought, “He’s like the villain in a movie…black car, smoking…”

We watched the Jeep driver nod and walk to his car, get in, and pull over out of the way because he would be blocking traffic now that the light had turned green….leaving the lane wide open for the guy in the Grand Prix.

I knew he was going to take off.

I tried to memorize the license plate number, since we didn’t have a pen, and we were going to call 911 anyway, since Rachel had witnessed the accident.
With squealing tires and no second thoughts, the Grand Prix took off, swerved over three lanes and was out of there.
Rachel was pissed off. I was pissed off.
She exclaimed, “No. Uh-uh. That asshole is not getting away.” She stomped on the accelerator and we took off after the Grand Prix, leaving behind the bewildered driver of the Jeep who had mistakenly trusted whatever the other driver had told him. Rachel had to cut across the three lanes of traffic and speed to just keep within distance of the crazy mother driving like a bat out of hell. He turned right at the next intersection, we blew the red light to keep after him.

No one else was following. There wasn’t another car coming in either direction since it was after business hours. Along the right was a gas station, on the left was an industrial park of parking lots and businesses such as medical centers and banks. We followed him as he went 80-90 MPH through the parking lots.

At one point he stopped, the car’s black paint reflecting the street lamps and lights from the signs on the businesses. He saw us, since the car was horizontal as we were heading towards him. The minute he saw us, he took off again.

Meanwhile Rachel was on the phone with 911, after she finally remembered to press “send”, and was telling them, “I witnessed a hit and run going eastbound on Route 30 in Merrillville” but the operator kept saying “Where are you? Where are you?”
Rachel was disoriented, trying to keep up with the idiot in the Grand Prix and talk on the phone. We thought we lost him, then I saw a flash of lights and said, “He’s right over there! We didn’t lose him!” and Rachel headed in that direction.
But then he turned, far ahead of us, and we lost him for good.

Or so we thought.

Rachel hung up with 911 since we had no more information to give, we didn’t even know really where we were since we were in parking lots.
We slowed down and she turned left…and we saw the car, parked up on an grass embankment next to a tree and a stop sign in a parking lot behind a large Bank One building and kitty corner to a medical center. Smoke rose up from the engine, the front end completely smashed, air bags deployed…and the driver got out and took off running across the parking lot suffused in the orange glow of the street lamps.
Rachel got back on the phone with 911 while I stared hard at the man running away, noting that he was wearing a football jersey (I assumed it was a Packers jersey) with a number 11 on the back, shorts, a baseball cap. Rachel gave a description of, “A white male, medium build, wearing grey shorts, he got out and is now on foot.”
In the background at the 911 center she heard, “A white Jeep reported that he was involved in a hit and run on Route 30 with a black Grand Prix—“ and the 911 operator with Rachel exclaimed, “We have the Grand Prix! We have the Grand Prix!”
We stayed away until we saw that he had disappeared, found an address on one of the businesses and the cops showed up only half a minute after Rachel flipped her phone shut after being asked if she would wait by the car for the cops and of course we agreed.

Understand that since it was an industrial park and it was after hours, there were no other cars in those parking lots and the wreck of the car wouldn’t have been found until someone showed up for work the next morning.

So the first cop to show up looked at the car, then walked over to us and Rachel gave her eyewitness account as he asked the questions, I reminded her what the guy had been wearing, though she had noticed the grey shorts and that he was a white male. The cop wrote stuff down, radioed in her information as witness one and then asked, “Uh…did you see how he crashed? Because I don’t understand how he ended up like that.”
She said no, we had lost him, but showed up as he was leaving and the car was still smoking.
The car was facing us, which was odd, because we drove up and you had to turn right, then left to get into the parking lot adjacent to the other parking lot…and it was just weird.

The other two cop cars flipped U-turns to get back out of the parking lot and shouted, "Jersey, number 11?"
And the cop taking our information nodded, held out his arm, gave a thumbs up and said, "Yeah, number 11!" And he was using all of those police call numbers. Have I ever mentioned how sexy I think Indiana police uniforms are? They're all black...they wear those boots military style...it's very, very becoming. Plus the cop was young(er) and had a completely shaved head, and happened to be very good-looking. UGH! he can strip search me any day.

So as he was taking down the information the radio strapped to his shoulder started talking and a man’s voice droned, “We found the suspect in a field. He spotted us and took off. We’re pursuing him now.”
The cop glanced around and pointed behind us and said, “He’s a couple blocks that way, then.”

YES! So Rachel and I, especially Rachel, was completely high on adrenaline. The car was most definitely stolen (probably JUST because of the way the idiot was driving) and the cop thanked Rachel, then took off himself, then we drove off and Rachel couldn’t hold it in and she called Adam to tell him the whole thing.

This happened in about…10 minutes?

It was the greatest night of our lives, basically.

Rachel kept saying, “I apprehended a criminal!” and I was like “I FORGOT MY CAMERA!”

We agreed that if he hadn’t spotted us and known we were following him, we doubt he would have wrecked where he did. But if he hadn’t been stopped, he probably would have caused more accidents and someone might have gotten killed. We saved LIVES.

Rachel did excellent driving, I caught the details of what he was wearing, we saw it from start to finish. AND THE GUY GOT CAUGHT!

That’s right, you crazy MF’er, you picked the wrong bitches to mess with! You do not cut Rachel off and then rearend someone and think you can just run! We’ll chase you, find you, and take you down.

We were like a friggin’ modern day Cagney and Lacey! (Except much more attractive.)