Lizzie said that a blog was supposed to be talking about me, not my casework. Since I've never been one for posting myself out for the world to see, she thinks the idea of keeping an online journal is beyond my comprehension. No, it's not; I just think it's fucking stupid.
I'm not the kind of guy you'd want to hang out in a bar with. I'm not the kind of guy you'd watch the game with after a hard day's work. I'm certainly not the kind of guy you'd let fuck your sister. No, I'm the kind of guy you'd take one look at and go to your friend, “Wow, that guy's a dick.”
Yup. I'm that guy.
I'm twenty-six, yes, I know that's young for a detective. I basically went in right after college, did my schtick with the academy, got accepted into the investigations department, and now here I am. My partner's six years older than me, never bothered me except when she acts like my mother. Which isn't often, but it does happen.
I had my friends in high school, and that was all I needed. People tend to annoy me; once you hit past the thirty second mark, I have to get as far away from them as possible. And my reasoning for it is the same reason that ole' George Carlin used to give; I have a low tolerance for people and their stupid bullshit.
I'm good at my job. Coming off a life that most would consider “weird” but what I considered normal (dark clothing, punk music, a general idea of what teenagers go through on a daily basis), I like to think I have a keen intuition whenever I'm on a case involving teenagers. Since I'm still fairly young, I still have a bit of their psyche archived in my brain. Teenagers are easier to handle than adults. All you got to do is treat them carefully. Though with this girl, it'd be hard to say. Haven't seen anything like these drawings before.
My partner Lizzie's the kind of girl that can argue with you for hours on end and yet still greet you with a smile and a good morning the next day. She's a blonde-recently turned-brunette with glasses and still looking pretty good even though she's hitting the “tremulous thirties”, as I like to call them. I think the chief stuck her with me so that I'd get a woman's touch on my thought process, but as long as she doen't boss me around all the time, I'm fine with it. We fight, we flirt, we hang out, we get a bite to eat, we get our work done...maybe have some sex every now and again...it's a good system we've got going. She's my partner, and she's a good partner to have.
She's looking over my shoulder right now and telling me I'm getting off-topic. Put the emphasis on talking about myself instead of her. She did thank me for the compliments, though. Swear to God, you give that girl an inch, and she takes a mile.
Not too much else to say. I'm stubborn and a pain in the ass to deal with. I'm hardworking when I need to be and I'm a slacker the rest of the time. I'd rather fight with someone for hours about something stupid than just sit through another boring movie. Rarely will I ever do a good thing for anyone, unless I see that they absolutely need it. And, like I said before, I have a good understanding with what is probably the most depressing age period a person goes through.
Is that enough? Lizzie says no. Well, fuck it, that's all I'm giving this thing. I'm trying to save a girl's life, not rough draft my autobiography. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some files to look over.