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the latest
waddle: good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03 elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01 building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19 ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09 my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04
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You want events? Fresh, hot, still-dripping-with-grease events? Are you tired of reading diaries where nothing much happens? Things will happen here, today, in this entry. They may not be interestingly or wittily described, but they will happen. That's what being away for 3 days or so will get you: events. Read on. Ah, Chicago, where we like to drive our trains into each other. It makes for a more exciting commute for LT, who was involved in this crash. He suffered no injuries himself, but did end up with a latte-soaked shirt and pants when a couple of Lincoln Park trixies landed on top of him. Good thing they're always so anorexic or he could have been more seriously injured. Not to make light of the situation, because many people were seriously injured. LT ended up giving his handkerchief (because he is an one of them retro dudes who still carries a snotrag) to some guy that was bleeding profusely from the face. He (LT, not Mr Bleeding Face) called me from his cell phone to let me know that yes, he was on the Train of Crashing but that he was fine, thinking that I would hear the news of the accident and be worried, which is a good assumption since I am the queen of worrying. However, I work in a hermetically sealed office building and outside events do not penetrate. But it was nice of him nonetheless. So that was Friday, and the city was all a-flurry. Later on Friday Kat called and insisted that I meet her for a drink, and she had that sort of tone in her voice that meant she would soon go after her coworkers' eyes with a salad fork, and because I am a good friend, I agreed. (Unnecessary Note: I really am a good friend. Some people may not think so, because I do tend to disappear for days at a time, sometimes I borrow things and sort of forget to give them back, and I will tell you that you are full of shit if, indeed, you are full of shit. You'd be amazed at how many people don't appreciate that. Oh, and I also have this silly diary where I may reveal embarrassing personal details about you. On the plus side, I am loyal, I will always stick up for you in public or private, and if you demand that I meet you for a drink, I will walk over my own grandmother to do so. Just make sure to include the words "for a drink.") We went out, beers were had, LT eventually joined us and told funny stories of The Great El Disaster, and somehow, as if by magic, food appeared and was eaten. I love it when that happens. The rest of the weekend was rather uneventful: more food was eaten, live music was heard, and nature shows were watched through the magic of TiVo. Wow. I'm not a gadget girl, but TiVo is a grand thing: the good bits of TV without all the bits that make TV such a cesspool. Thanks to everyone who encouraged me via e-mail to take the plunge. This brings us all the way to Monday, which I spent in the company of junkies, hookers, and thieves. No, you didn't miss a Diaryland get-together. I had jury duty. The morning started out with a long, long, long bus ride down to the jail and courthouse complex at 26th and California. Such a scenic route. I saw no fewer than 3 people up against the hoods of police cars, and it was only 9 in the morning. Then through the metal detectors I went, and into the scummy jury room, where I had to fight the urge not to dump bottles and bottles of hand sanitizer all over everything, and where I waited and waited and waited. My number was not called. I read an entire book (luckily I also had a back-up book.) We broke for "lunch." It took me only a quick walk outside, about 5 blocks in each direction, to determine that there was nowhere to go for lunch. There was a Popeye's Chicken (which for some reason I always read as "POPE YES" Chicken, so that in my mind it is a Papist chicken place) and a dubious taqueria (it was not literally called "La Trichonosa," but you get my drift). I was propositioned twice on my brief walk outside, and also received an offer to buy a gold chain. I went back in and had some vending machine chips and a bottle of water. Gourmet Day it was not. At 3 pm, just when I thought I would get away clean, my number was called and we went to a courtroom for jury selection. We listened to the judge talk about the nature of justice and trial by jury. We listened to people being questioned for jury selection. It was incredibly boring, the same 5 or 6 questions over and over. The lawyers rejected all but 4 of those people, so then the same thing was repeated with a different batch of people. It took hours, and we weren't allowed to read, so I spent my time covertly making eyes at my defendant. This guy was hot. He may have been an alleged thug (it was a felony weapons charge), but he was an extremely good-looking alleged thug. He had super-high David Bowie cheekbones and a pointy chin and cornrows like Snoop Doggy Dogg. Plus the longest eyelashes I had ever seen on an adult. (It may not sound like the best combination, but trust me, it was nice.) So I guess it's a good thing that I didn't get on the jury, as I may have had some bias there. On the other hand, I was very much looking forward to being questioned because I wanted to tell a small lie in the courtroom. Nothing huge, just that when they asked me what hobbies I had (which for some reason they were asking all the potential jurors), I had planned to say "gardening." A lie, but it hurts no one, and it would give me a thrill to tell a lie in a real live courtroom because I'm a rebel like that. But no jury duty for me. I collected my $17.20 and made my long journey home. ---mimi smartypants back/forward |
