Let me share with you the details of my trip home tonight. Believe me: you want to know them.
So, I'm driving along, minding my own business, grooving to the sweet sounds of Radiohead, when I see a sign saying "CAUTION: SOBRIETY CHECK AHEAD." My first thought was great. I seem a little drunk during every moment of my life, so this can't go well. So, I pull up to the designated check area and am greeted by three cops. All of whom are staring at me like I might pull out a glock at any point, because apparently I look like someone who would do that. After some "Hello theres" and "How are you this evening, Ma'ams," the center cop (whom I like to refer to as The Good Guy) asks for my license and registration. Having little experience with being pulled over, I pulled out my registration and had to ask the cop if that was indeed the paper he needed. Meanwhile, the other two were making comments on how I had too many snacks and whether or not I had just come to a sleepover. The Good Guy noticed their commentary and saw my bag of Lay's Chicken and Waffles and asked if I liked them, to which I answered positively and discussed the other flavors with him. Then the fun part starts. I will now transcribe this in script form.

Scene- Still at the stupid sobriety check
Asshole Cop: Hey. Are those brass knuckles on your shirt?
Me: Yeh. It's a shirt for br--
A.C.: You got brass knuckles on your shirt?? [to all 30 volunteers and cops standing around staring at my car] HEY YOU GUYS! SHE'S GOT BRASS KNUCKLES ON HER BOOBS!!
The Good Guy: Alright Ma'am, you have a good evening and drive back to East Berlin safely.
Me: Uh... Yeh.
The End.

So, in conclusion,
since I wasn't allowed to explain myself to A.C. (which I shouldn't have to since I did nothing wrong and he's a complete stranger who I owe nothing to), here's an open statement to him:

First off, I'd like to state that it's none of your business that I have so many different snacks in my car, besides the fact that you were obligated to check my car for open bottles and that nonsense. Let me apologize for needing food at a moment's notice in case my sugar drops. And a sleepover? Really? If I was at a sleepover, wouldn't I still be at the sleepover, considering that it was 1:30 am? That's freakin' prime sleepover action time. Don't be dumb.
And yes, I did have brass knuckles on my shirt, which you clearly could see, so there was no need to ask me twice. You could also very simply see that they were pink. What you could not see was the back of my shirt that said "Keep calm and fight on" with a pink ribbon at the top. Maybe if you had been somewhat of a decent person, you would have let me tell you that the shirt was for breast cancer awareness and the pink brass knuckles were symbolic of the fight against breast cancer, which my sister-in-law is fighting now. So, yeh. Go ahead and make a joke about breast cancer. I double dog dare you, because really, I've had a day full of moron AND I'm PMSing.By the way, you don't know me. That means you don't get to call my boobs "boobs," much less talk about them. That's a term reserved for people who know me and respect me. Learn some manners, you ignorant, double-chinned gorilla. You're an example of the people who give cops a bad name. You're welcome.