I own over fifty vibrators.

Sometimes the headline is really much more interesting than the story.

"I spent a night in jail in Las Vegas." That sounds like a great story! Till you find out it was because of a broken headlight I got a ticket for. I repaired the headlight and forgot about the ticket and a bench warrant was issued for me. Of course, the LVPD boy who was lucky enough to Bring Me In (I'm not Dillinger!) practically sang Bad boys bad boys, whatcha gonna do? to me in the car on the way to the jail. In handcuffs.

To make the story fun, at that time I was engaged to a man who had spent many years in a motorcycle club, worked as a bouncer in a bar, the whole stereotype. HE had never been arrested. HE had no tattoos. So he meets this nice, jewish girl from NJ who has a tattoo, has done more drugs than he ever did and ends up in Las Vegas City Jail on the ONE night his cousin is in town. The one he hasn't seen since his family left the cattle ranch back in Montana many, many years ago.

So there I am in jail, using my free phone calls (they're unlimited in LV City jail!) to call him every 10 minutes and beg him to come "bail me out." That's what they do in the movies, right? Somebdy gets arrested, somebody comes to bail them out. So he blows off the cousin to go bail out his "friend" in jail and when he gets there they say "She hasn't even been booked yet."

WHAT?!?! I'm sitting on the floor (cause all the benches are taken up by the mean girls) of the holding tank with hookers, a woman who has just stabbed her mother in law (also her cousin or something) over a crack deal, women so whacked out on drugs they're out of their minds, one who was in there for a DUI and there's me - the big headlight offender. Crying. And it was FREEZING in there! Seriously so cold it was hard to move. Which was exactly their point. Heat it up a little and da bitches is fighting. No, keep us on ice. We're calmer that way.

So a take-no-prisoners kinda cowgirl, the type you just know lives on her ranch with a bunch of guns and takes no crap from nobody, who is in there on a similar charge to mine, kinda takes me under her wing. She's not afraid of the crackheads or murderers, she shoves one woman in a heroin nod over to the side and makes room for me on the bench.

If she had kissed me, I might just have kissed her back. I'm in jail for a half hour and I'm some woman's bitch. Fortunately, she wasn't about that, she just had that cowgirl sense of right and wrong and thought I should have a seat. And she was nice and called me "honey."

Finally, at about 2 am (I'd been pulled over on the way to dinner, around 5 pm) I met with some judicial kinda person who said I would be R.O.R. Released on my Own Recognizance. Just some paperwork to get through. They'd let me know when I should call my fiance for the 837th time.

On my little trip through the jailhouse, I noticed the men had TWO holding tanks. One for felonies, one for misdemeanors. So the little boys who are in jail cause they forgot to take care of a headlight ticket are not sitting in jail with murderers. So what is up with throwing all the women together? I still haven't quite figured that one out.

I was released at 7am. I had exactly enough time to get home, take a quick shower, put my clothes on and get to work. What was I going to do, call in "arrested?"

Incredibly, my biker/bouncer/cowboy fiance married me anyway. We've been married eleven years as of yesterday. Sometimes good boys just like us bad girls.

Today's fragrance: a beautiful oil blend brought back from Morocco for me by a friend who probably wouldn't have done that if she knew of my checkered past. I don't remember what's in it - rose and some other stuff - but it doesn't matter all that much cause you can't get it anywhere. So there.

PS - Vibrators and Dead Milkmen fall into the same category. The headline is better than the story. Trust me.