Something Wicked This Way Comes

So I realized this weekend that we apparently have been living in the new house long enough to now be solicited by every charity/fundraising organization known to man....because it seems like these are the only phone calls I get lately. Now. For those of you who don't know me....let me first explain to you something very important about Darth Heather's phone etiquette. I sound like a 3-year old on the phone. I can't help it. It's not my fault. I have a very soft voice....and apparently a very childish voice....now, just imagine how infuriating it is for some loser telemarketer to ask Darth Heather if her mommy is home? My mommy? Say that again, you MORON! Now, despite the fact that this is a completely harmless and understandable question...considering my high-pitched whiny voice....I always, without fail have a terrifically smart-ass comment for whatever poor unsuspecting soul happened to utter it. My mommy ....seriously. So anyway, the Fraternal Order of Police called last week...and after I convinced the officer that I was the Lady of the House....he went right into his guilt trip money begging schpeal. This is entirely unnecessary for the FOP officer because both the Hubby and I like donating to the police....because not only do we respect what they do....we want the sticker. Oh come on...you know exactly what I'm talking about, gentle reader. The sticker that says "I donated to your police force, don't give me a ticket." Well, that's not exactly what it says....but that's what it means, right? I mean, I know the back of the sticker has some kind of blah blah disclaimer about the sticker-holder not having any special rights....but let's be serious here for just a minute. Who really believes that? I'm not saying I can get away with anything....if I hold-up the local Starbucks...they're not gonna let me walk because of a sticker on my bumper. I realize that....but for little things.....like speeding.....