Everyday on my way to work, I drive on this freeway. Everyday I come upon this interchange where I leave my freeway to enter the next, and others are leaving their freeway to enter mine. Damn near everyday this shit happens to me. I obviously have the go ahead to switch lanes and get on the on-ramp, but some jackass feels that speeding in front of me will get him to the welfare office faster.
When I look over and see I am in front, I put on my blinker (You know, the light that flashes on the back corner of your car letting everyone know your intention of turning/switching lanes. I assume no one knows this because no one does it.) to show my intention of switching. I check my blind spot to make sure I have plenty of room to make said switch. I do. But wait, I'm going 40 or so because of the anticipated curve and the fucker, I'm sorry, jackass, is going 75 trying to get that extra jump in front of me. So I speed up, then he speeds up. Then I slow down, and he slows down. We're pretty much dancing on the freeway until one of us concedes and slams on the brakes to get over. LEARN TO FUCKING DRIVE!
Everyday this happens. Everyday I secretly hope they hit the barrier and start flipping like Shannon Miller in the '96 Olympics. Yes, Shannon Miller the gymnast. Look it up.
Its hard to get actual alone time when you live with your parent(s). Having sex becomes an exciting game of hind-n-seek, but increasingly more difficult when the walls are paper thin or when you’re not allowed to close the door. My ex thought getting a hotel would be a great idea. We did it a few times, all of which ended with fights. This one was my favorite…
We got a room at the Best Western in town for our 1st anniversary. Not too bad of a place. I did the candle and rose pedal thing before I picked her up. We stopped by the kinky store to pick up some fun things and I bought two videotapes for the camera. Yeah, that’s how I roll.
We did the whole romantic thing that night. CORRECTION: We tried to do the romantic thing that night. The roses, the blindfold, the camera, the edible everything, we did it all. If I have to give some advise on this, I’d say to leave out the edible everything. The panties are stupid and the lotion is unusually sticky. She didn’t like that. At all. Ungrateful bitch.
After our first go round, she started to stick to the sheets and the surrounding petals. That put her in an unsavory mood. She wants to call it a night. Whatever. Fine. I decide to order a movie because I am still full of energy and not tired at all. If I remember right, it was American Pie. According to her, it might as well have been hardcore, midget porn.
Her- Oh, so because you can’t fuck me again you’re gonna fucking watch that shit. Me- Go to sleep. Her- I’m not gonna let you watch this. Me- The fuck you’re not. I just paid for this shit and I can’t sleep. Go to sleep. Her- Blah blah blah and some other stuff that's not important enough to remember.
She won’t shut up.
Me- Fuck this, I’m going home. Her- I drove stupid. Me- First of all, don’t ever call me stupid. Second of all, I know you drove, that’s why I’m walking. The room is in your name so feel free to stay. Her- You’re an asshole. Me- You’re an ungrateful psycho. Her- Stop calling me that.
It was my pet name for her.
I gathered my things and started walking home. It was only five miles or so, I’ve done worse. She tries to call my bluff, but I’m halfway home already. I don't fucking bluff. My phone rings.
Her- If I jumped out of this window, would you even care?
Not that night.
Me- Do you know how much it’d hurt if you didn’t die? Her- I have one leg out and I’m sitting on the windowsill. You don’t love me. It’s all about sex with you. Me- You’re insane and you need help. I’m not coming back.
(click) It’s a good thing she was full of shit because I just kept walking. She drove to find me like I knew she eventually would, but she couldn’t find me at all because I took the back roads. I did see her pass ahead of me though. I doubt she saw me. She was waiting in the parking lot for me when I finally got home. We exchanged some words and I invited her inside for an hour or so to make up.
I was not the brightest bulb on the sign, but I refused to burn out.
We had to be in an hour later today, so I got an extra hour of sleep. That means there won't be any sleeping in court, right? I managed to only doze off for 3 seconds or so today. The plaintiff's lawyer has one of those voices that sound like a lullaby. Kind of like Mr. Rogers. Will you be my neighbor?
First we were forced to hear the bullshit story of the plaintiff for the 800th time. We all knew it was bullshit. I could see it in my fellow jurors' eyes. Bullshit. Again they recycled information with their own bias twist. It was laughable.
Second we hear the defense lawyer give their story. Its basically the same story, but with a 'don't give them shit!' attitude. I can roll with that. During that speech, I peered over to the plaintiffs and I can see defeat written all over their faces as if it was scribed with a Sharpie. Way to waste my time and my taxes, assholes.
After a few rebuttals, we come to find the plaintiffs are looking to be awarded a sum of 100-500 thousand dollars in damages for Defamation, Outrage (I didn't know that was a suable offense), and Breach of Contract. We were told beforehand that the Breach Of Contract only had a $1 ruling in this case. The plaintiff wanted to "Frame that dollar on their wall as a sign of justice!"
**cueAmericanflagbackdropandpatrioticmusic**
After laughing in my head about their expected cash award, the judge calls my name. Oh shit, did I just laugh out loud? Did he finally catch me asleep?
Judge- Mr. ****, you are now excused from your duty. (laughter from the jury box) Thank you for your time and we have a certificate for you suitable for framing. Me- Thanks? Judge- In the rare event we lose a juror during deliberation, you will be called in to join. In such a case, deliberation will have to restart to allow you to catch up. Thank you for your undivided attention (Ha!) and your willingness to serve. Me- Thank you. (I turn to the jury box) You guys have fun!
I hope I never hear the word 'deliberation' ever again.
Late edit: I received an email from the bailiff saying the jury deliberated for 3 hours and awarded the plaintiffs dick. She didn't use the word dick, but she should have. They didn't even deserve that fucking dollar they wanted to frame. They didn't even deserve my fucking time. If anything, the state should sue them for the complete and utter disregard for people's time and tax money that could go somewhere else that is more important. Important like a pedophile congressman's pay raise or pretty new street lights in my 'downtown' district.
Thanks for wasting roughly $10,000 of tax payers money and a couple of my vacation days, assholes!
We were promised a three-hour break yesterday for today. We got no three-hour break today. Its ok though. Only bums should be on the streets for that long of a time anyway. It saved my from shopping and spending money I don't currently have. Score one for me.
We did not get a three-hour break because they felt it was nessicary to question the last defendant for two whole days. The plantiff's lawyer was basically recycling information that we've already known for a week and a half. It was like watching reruns on COURT TV of the O.J. Simpson trial, but less entertaining. By less entertaining, I mean sleep-inducing. Yes, I slept in the jury box again.
The next time I get a jury summons, that will be my excuse why I can't serve. Give me a job to do and maybe I'll stay attentive. Let me use the pointer on the projector or something. I could be good at that. I'm a quick learner. Anything to make me stay awake. "Due to my Boredom-induced Narcolepsy, I am unable to serve on your jury." Its the reason why I dropped out of college and now its the reason I will never serve on another jury. I need to be able to interact with the trial. Fucking 'civil obligations'.
We were told that they would fit in the closing statements today so we could come in and deliberate tommorow, i.e. my last day because I am an alternate and I don't deliberate. They lied. The jury instructions took forever and we have to come back tomorrow to hear the anti-climactic ending to a boring civil trial.
Sleeping again. This is getting ridiculous. Oh well, one more day.
I now know why people hate lawyers. They hate them because they are cold-blooded and predatorial. I witnessed a lawyer today rip apart a poor old kindergarten teacher. KINDERGARTEN! It could have only been worse if it were a minority, volunteer, Special ED instructor. Cold-blooded indeed. The teacher was very chipper and cooperative at the beginning, as you'd expect a woman who spends her day catering to small children would be. Then the attorney started calling her a liar (pretty much anyway) and accused her of changing her story. Then he attacked her for fabricating entire events and belittled her when she couldn't answer 'simple questions'. I felt bad for her. Made me want to get up and give her a hug, then beat the attorney with my brand new putter I bought from Wal-Mart last night. Bastard.
This was supposed to be the last day, but they ran long on a lot of the witnesses. That means I'll have to be here again tomorrow. Hopefully everyone shows up tomorrow so I can go home afterwards, seeing as I'm the alternate and need not deliberate. Haha bitches!! Luckily its only for about an hour or so of testimony, then a 3 hour lunch break while they prepare their closing arguments. What the fuck am I gonna do in Seattle by myself for 3 hours? I might go fuck with the homeless. I dunno. I can't be held responsible for what I do when I'm bored.
Maybe I should get some more sleep, because I can't seem to pay attention to anything anybody says for the first two hours of the day. It wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't two feet away from the witness, which puts me in direct eyeline with the judge and in viewing distance of everyone else. Maybe because I'm an alternate they let me get away with it. I'm also the only juror still not taking any notes. Oh well. Today I tried to fix it by not eating lunch and just taking an hour and a half long nap in the jury room. It helped a little.
The highlight of the day for me was finally seeing the step-dad/plantiff up on the stand. After an easy and well rehearsed line of questioning from his lawyers, the defense gave it a go. This poor fuck had no idea what hit him. The defense tore him a new asshole and made him shit from it repeatedly. He was changing his story, forgeting events, it was hilarious. I chuckled a little. The judge saw me. The questions got intense and the attorney started badgering him like they do on TV. It was actually exciting. The judge at one point had to yell at the attorney and command the witness to "DON'T DARE ANSWER THAT!!" I thought this grown man (and a religious firefighter) was gonna cry. Thoughout the whole trial, they went on and on about how much of a devout Christian he was, but failed to remember any Bible verses that he was asked to recite. I found joy in that. He seems a little creepy anyway. When I say creepy, I really mean molesterish. Oh yes, I did just make that word up.
When I got off the bus this morning to continue my 'civil duty', all I saw were homeless people as far as the eyes could see. They were fucking everywhere (well, they weren't fucking, but you get the point). You would have thought they all had nowhere else to go. Wait...nevermind.
I fell asleep again today during the first hour. Not really sleep, more just dozing off. My eyelids needed some kind of eye-bra to hold them up, then to lift and separate them. I'm waiting for the day that I get held in contempt or get reamed in front of everyone in the court. This time I had an excuse though.
The witness-of-the-day was this old, retired guy that had the memory of, well, me. Every question had an answer in some form of 'I don't recall' or 'I can't quite remember'. It was tiring. What made it even more funny is that he looked like a skinny Larry Brown. After that novelty wore off the eyelids started to sag.
People depend on me for judgement. Ha!
Other than that, it was just another day in court, listening to a trial that I already know what the verdict will be. What a waste of my fucking time.
I just made the bus this morning. I almost fell back asleep on my couch before I realized jail just isn't for me.
Highlights
Before Lunch:
From 9am to Noon, I was constantly dozing off. I think I caught about 5-10 seconds of actual sleep in the jury box. I'm also pretty sure the plaintiffs (and possibly the judge) saw me. How could they not? I was sitting two and a half feet away from the witness. I bet they were PISSED.
After Lunch:
Another witness was called up, and she was looking awfully Milfy. She was a mother of one of the girls involved in the 'incidents'. This woman had a 15 year old, a pair of 13 year old twins, and an 8 year old daughter, but she looked 22 and had the body of a cheerleader. HOT. She shed some genuine tears on the stand also. I was very close to getting up and consoling her. Can anyone say 'mis-trial'?
On another note, I had really bad gas today. Or indigestion. It was something. My stomach was making these really loud and weird noises after lunch and it was totally noticeable. There are a lot of quiet moments in court and my stomach decided to make its self known at these awkward pauses. There's only so many times I can try to cough to cover the noises up before someone offers me some water.
At the end of every testimony, the judge allows the jury to submit anonymous questions for the witness to answer. My question was viscously shot down by the lawyers.
How do you feel about *****'s parents desire to profit off events stemming from the incidents with your daughter?
Day 1- The fun Day 2- I got picked Day 3- The trial starts. Bring on the tears.
The only good thing about this day is that I get an extra hour of sleep. They want us in at 9am instead of the prior 8am. It doesn't matter though. I've found that trial wipes me out no matter how much (usually not much) sleep I get. Here's my schedule for the duration of my 'civil duty'.
My Schedule
6:50am-
Wake
7:00am-
Bake (I wish)
7:05am-
Actually get out of bed
7:45-8:50am-
Bus. Yes, bus.
9:00-10:30am-
Trial
10:30-10:45am-
Break. In a small room with 12 other people.
10:45-noon-
Trial
Noon-1:30pm-
Lunch. There is only so much I can do in Seattle by myself after I eat. As long as its sunny, I refuse to complain.
1:30-2:45pm-
Trial. There are a short 5 minute breaks for 'side bars' here and there. The jurors have to leave the room for those.
2:45-3:00pm-
Break
3:00-4 or so-
Trial
4:20-5:15pm-
Bus. This is where I nap, sitting next to either some single mom who needs to talk to her kids the entire ride, or some chick with a really dumb looking book.
Today the plantiff's mother was on the stand all fucking day. She managed to squeeze out some obviously fake tears. She may have single handedly ruined her chances at winning any money in my book. What an idiot. As everyone writes notes on her testimony, I just sit there and roll my eyes at most of what she says. My note pad is empty. They must think I don't care.
I show up the second day and I am quickly chosen for another jury selection. Wait, 'quickly' is not the word I want to use here. I got there at 8:30am and was pickup for a case at 10:00am. I go in to hear a case about what we only know is 'inappropriate touching' between kids. Apparently they had already dismissed over half of the initial 40 possible jurors they started with and needed 15 more. When I got there, they got rid of even more and ask for an additional 15. They were picky I guess. I happened to sit next to a 50-something year old lawyer who witnessed my idiocy the day before and he salivated at the idea of me doing something exciting again. I try not to disappoint.
As we're in there, we came to find the case is a boy's parents suing a Christian (argh!) school over an 'unjust' explosion. My mind is instantly going through possible excuses why I can't be here without actually lying.
I got one.
The question comes up asking if anyone has any pre-determined bias about the case. A gay man says he hates the Church, he's gone. An old fashion Catholic man says he hates any religion that's not his, he's gone. By this time, the old lawyer sitting next to me is giving me elbows trying to get me to stand up and say something. I was never any good at resisting peer-pressure, so I raise my number...
Defense- Juror **, do you have a bias? Me- Yes. I have a very negative view of Christianity, Catholicism, and most other organized religions. I'm at a crisis of faith as of late and I just thought you needed to know I don't think very highly of religious schools. Defense- Does that make you unable to make an unbias decision about this case? Me- I'm not certain, but its possible.
I should have just said 'yes'.
He went on to ask questions about our feeling towards kids. I figured I'd get a second chance to go home, so I raised my number again.
Defense- Yes, Juror **, how do you feel about children? Me- Well, after helping raise my two younger brothers, I am quite fond of them. If they are my brothers. I don't really care for kids that I don't know. Defense- Will that affect your judgment on this case? Me- Well, I feel children are liars and will do or say anything to keep from getting in trouble. So I would have a hard time believing the testimony of any child, especially in the presence of their parents. Defense- Thank you for your honesty.
Times passes
Judge- Juror **, will you please take a seat in the juror's box? Me- (mumbling, but still hearable) Son. Of. A. Bitch.
Dammit, not good enough! I am on the fucking jury, as an alternate. That means even if I feel strongly for one side of the lawsuit, I can't make a difference in the judgement unless one of the other jurors die or something. That tongues balls.
What would a bad relationship be without regret. Probably a good one.
My ex was driving me to work one night at my overnight job as she had been doing all winter. When we pulled into the parking lot, she decided to park in the back instead of driving up to the front. In my head, I’m thinking this is the start of a very ugly night.
Her- I want to talk to you about something. Me- Can we do this after work? Her- No. Me- Please? Her- Fine. Have fun at work. Me- Ok?
I go about my night like any other night when my phone starts going off. Hmmm, I bet she’s still in the parking lot.
Her- I need to talk to you right now. Me- (genuinely concerned) What’s wrong, baby? Her- Do you love me? Me- Of course I do. Is everything ok? Her- I don’t know. I think so. I don't know. Me- Can this wait till after work, babe?
Wrong thing to say.
Her- Blah blah blah (goes on for five minutes or so) blah blah blah. Do you ever care about anything? Something about something. You don't love me! Yadda yadda yadaa. I’m pregnant!
Holy shit!
Her- …and yes, its yours.
It fucking better be.
So I get off of work to continue this conversation in person. “Ummm, I have a family emergency.” It was kinda true.
According to Chris Rock, I said one of only two things I was allowed to say...
(its all funny, but I'm talking about the 3:10 mark)
Me- What are you gonna do? Her- I don’t know. Me- Whatever it is, I'm completely behind you.
I’m such a great boyfriend.
We (mostly she) decided we weren’t ready. Sure, I guess we weren't. Whatever. We went through the proper channels and finally found ourselves at the ‘unholy’ place a few weeks later. Being there just felt illegal. Almost like we were attending a secret civil rights meeting in the 50's. The legal limit (we were told) was three months, we were just shy of two. When they called her name, I looked her right in the eye and made my final attempt.
Me- I don’t want you to do this. Her- What? Me- We can do this. We can make it work. Her- We can’t. Me- Yes we can. Don’t do it. Her- We’re already here.
Whaaaaaa?!? We’re already here!?
Was she serious? That’s her excuse? What the fuck? I’m a decent person, so I wasn’t gonna make her feel like a shitty person about her decision. I held her hand and that was that. Saying it was a distrubing experiance would be like saying Hitler wasn't a nice guy. Yeah, understatement of the year. **Side note: Whatever you may believe in, I do not recommend such a choice. You die a little inside. Unless you're a robot.**
For the rest of our relationship, she always used that as a crutch against me like it was my choice. "I did that for us, and now -insert current fight here-." Bullshit. One of her arguments was it would have hindered her career as an aspiring 'entertainer', for lack of specifity and keeping the somewhat innocent still innocent.
After we broke up, I did some math (which I'm surprisingly good at) and realized the possible window of conception was a span of four or five days where I was only with her for two of them. The other couple of days she was on a camping trip with a youth group. Coincidence? It may explain her refusal to change her mind. Or maybe she was just selfish. Either way, I’m glad she’s not the mother of my child. Fucking Psycho.
After typing this, I'm starting to feel like a horrible person. It’ll pass, I'm sure. It always does.
When I last talked about my favorite word, I explained the genius of the word 'motherfucker'. Now my new favorite word is 'slam-pig'. I heard this word for the first time a couple months ago when someone was talking about a rumor they've heard about a famous WNBAer when she was in college. Ever since then, I've been seeing it and hearing it more and more. It is now in my vocabulary.
'Slam-pig' basically means an ugly girl that everyone's fucked. We all know an ugly girl who everyone knows is really good at the sex, yet no one wants to admit publicly to fucking her. That is a slam-pig. Example:
Who the hell is she? Oh, that's *****. She's ok. She's a little funny looking, ain't she? Yeah, but she's a total slam-pig. We've all hit that at one time or another. I recommend it actually. Hmmmm
Sometimes banging an ugo who has special 'talents' is better the banging a really hot chick who is a dead fish. Sometimes.
It makes a good insult because it has the word pig in it. Just thought I'd mention that.
When you have sex outside of your relationship, why is it called cheating? Are my girlfriend and I having a contest to see who can have the highest total number of lifetime orgasms? Only then would having sex with another women could actually be called cheating.
I'm beginning to think Amish people are just a species of humans that stopped evolving in the 18th century. I don't care what they say.
I eat and breathe hip-hop, but couldn't they have come up with a less-gay name? 'Urban' would have been fine.
Why don't men take baths anymore? Once we were old enough to work the shower, we never looked back.
The ultimate goal in sex is to reach an orgasm. So why are men forced to hold out as long as they can? Why can't women just learn/evolve to cum faster?
Why is the Catholic church against abortions? Is it because there would be less kids to molest. (is that bad taste?)
For married couples, having a TV in your bedroom is like having a stripper perform at your church. You're in there for something supposedly important, but your attention will no doubt be focused on something completely different. Oh, and it pisses your wife off.
They say that sex is good exercise, but in an average session (20 minutes, and that's if we care), you only burn enough calories to negate that banana you had with lunch. Its about the same as masturbating and sleeping for 90 minutes. I don't have to cuddle after the latter.
You know the part in The Shining where that old guy is getting a blowjob from a giant teddy bear? What the fuck was that about?
By volume, I get more junk mail than actual mail. Do people actually use these Val-U-Paks? I'd almost rather get a message in the mail notifying me that a tree was killed in my name.
Why has text messaging become easier than actual talking? I enjoy 'texting', but it's breeding a society of anti-socials. The same could be said for porn.
Why is it suddenly 'uncool' to dress up for Halloween when you're 12, then suddenly 'cool' to do so when you're 19? Girls can recycle their costumes by just adding the word 'naughty' or 'slutty' at the beginning. Twelve --> life saving nurse, deadly vampire, or buccaneer. Nineteen --> naughty nurse, slutty vampire, and slutty pirate.
Is it wrong to feed a pig leftover Christmas ham? They'll still eat it.
Why is boxing still around? It's only exciting when there are 140 pound latinos beating the shit out of each other.
With the new Transformers movie coming out, is anyone else anxiously waiting for a He-Man remake or a live-action Care Bears movie? My childhood is being brutally raped in the worst way (as if there was a better way?).
The older and fatter Jack Nicholson gets, the younger and hotter his girlfriends get. How exactly does that work?
Insurance is a scam. They cover you hoping nothing happens, making you pay for nothing. Then when shit does happen, they either insanely raise your rates to make you pay it all back or they drop you all together and leave you vulnerable. That shouldn't be legal.
Girls treat giving head like giving sticks of gum. If you ask for some, they think you're rude. They only offer when they want something to put in their mouth. Selfish. Think about it. It'll be funny later.
Remember Big Wheels growing up? Why don't kids have those anymore? I used to love running into cars with those. Oh, I see now.
Kleenex with Aloe lotion is definitely in the top 25 greatest inventions in modern history. My nose will never be rubbed raw AGAIN! Tissue at home > tissue at school > tissue at work
Is it me, or is there something a bit off about a girl who is REALLY good at sex. How exactly did she get so damn good?
Ever notice there aren't any smart homeless people? If that's not a future 'Stay In School' ad, I don't know what is.
Probably one of the most insane stories I have about this girl is the one I am about to tell.
The majority of our fights came when she was leaving my place to go home. She lacked the little clock in her head that tells her when its time to leave someone’s home, so I always had to make that executive decision for her. She looked at it as me getting rid of her; I viewed it as me getting some fucking sleep.
On this occasion, she really didn’t want to go. When I told her that we should call it a night, she gave me the usual ‘fine, if I have to’ look and proceeded to leave. I walked her out to her car and sent her on her way. I didn’t realize that her car never moved. Fifteen minutes later my phone rang. I was already in bed, under the covers, and in my sweet spot when I reached to answer it. In my head I was thinking about why I even try to sleep after she leaves. It never happens the way I want it to. Needless to say, it was her.
She goes on with the same rant about how I don’t care about her and how I make no sacrifices for her and how I always kick her out after we have sex (which is purely a matter of bad timing). Whatever.
Me- Please go home. Her- I’m coming up. Me- Don’t come up. Her- Why? Is your other girlfriend coming or something? Me- You can’t be serious. Please go home. Her- I’m at your door and I will ring the doorbell if you don’t come open the door (it was midnight). Me- Don’t fucking ring the bell. Give me a minute.
I opened the door to see the devil, herself, looking directly into my soul. She was hungry, and my soul smelled like fresh brownies. I knew she was plenty pissed because whenever she got super angry, she'd insert ‘the fuck’ in every sentence. Example:
I’m pissed the fuck off! What the fuck were you thinking? Get the fuck off of me! Where the fuck have you been? Why the fuck do you care? How the fuck am I supposed to bend that way?
When I told her she couldn’t come in, she let ‘the fucks’ loose. How my neighbors didn't hear, I'll never know. Maybe they did but they were too frightened to come out.
Then she did what could possibly be the most appalling thing I’d seen her (or anyone else for that matter) ever do. She looked directly into my eyes with the fury of a dozen Pro-Life protesters and started beating herself in the head with her keys. Not by holding the key chain, no, but by swinging the keys like a lasso using the lariat she used to hang them around her neck. She swung them around fast enough to make a faint whistling noise as they cut through the air, while also making what sounded like an evil version of Jingle Bells as they bounced off her fucking skull. Her face was expressionless and her eyes did not blink. She felt no pain. All of this coming from a four foot, eleven inches, ninety-seven pound girl. I couldn’t do anything but stare in shock and horror.
When I finally took hold of the moment, I lounged at her to make her stop and ushered her inside. Somehow I calmed her down. It would have been a lot easier if we had a 'safe' word to use. Of course my first reaction was to sympathize, so I got her some aspirin and a wet towel for her bleeding head. She left about an hour and a half later.
Wow. Fucking Psycho.
We dated for another year and a half after that. What does that say about me?
Me- Are you okay? Her- My head hurts. Me- No shit?
I guess its fair to say I don't have a great deal of respect for the justice system. When they say everyone is due a fair trial, they really mean that shit.
I was pulled for jury duty back in March. Due to some scheduling conflicts, I had to postpone it till October 9th, Columbus Day. I figured they'd be closed that day and I could put it off some more. I was mistaken. Here's how my first day went:
I've known about this date for 6 months and I still didn't find my bus route to Seattle until 3am that morning. I live about 25 miles away and parking is ridiculous, so the bus is the obvious choice. I woke up at 5:30am to drive to the park & ride and catch the 6:30am bus to get there at by 8am. Sounds simple enough, right? Turns out I waited for an hour at the wrong bus stop. Oh, I was pissed. I was, like, "fuck this shit" and I went home. "What's the worst that could happen?"
When I got home, I figured I'd call the office and plead my case to see what they could do. I was looking for the number when I came across a web page where a guy was going on about how he was sentenced to 10 days in jail for ditching jury duty two times in a row. I quickly decided that jail was not an option (or a fine for that matter) and I ran out the door to find the Transit Center. I caught the 7:45am bus and reached Seattle at 9am. I must have entered every judicial building before finally finding the correct one at 9:30am, an hour and a half late.
Fuck. I'm going to jail.
Turns out, state workers do their job about as fast as...well, government workers. Being late was not a problem. I didn't enter a courtroom until 10:45am.
The first day of your jury summons is like the first day of 10th grade history. So much so that I wanted to go hit on the hot new freshman until I realized the youngest was 53. We spent the first couple hours making sure everyone was there and explaining all the rules and guidelines. The judge should have just handed out a syllabus and had our parents sign it. It would have went alot smoother. "Hold your number up if your answer is yes to any of these questions." I sat on my number for all but two questions.
Then we took an hour and a half worth of lunch break. Only the state government would have lunches as long. I took advantage and toured downtown Seattle for it had been a while since I've done so. I came back to finally hear questions from the lawyers, who have been sitting there with their clients the entire day smiling and scribbling on notepads. I chose not to participate. At all. For almost 2 hours, all I did was make weird faces at the dumbest answers the future jurors would come up with. "When you mean 'criminal trials', does that count drug charges? Because I have been involved in one of those trials." These two guys were going to be tried for a serious crime and all these fuckheads could do is tell humorous stories about how they catch their kids lying and how indecisive they were at the dinner table, and then laughing out loud about it. I had no idea crime could be so funny. At this point I was beyond bored and I started playing with my tongue. Before we got too comfortable, we took another fifteen minute break. They ushered us into another courtroom where I took a good fifteen minute nap on one of the benches.
When we rejoined the court, I was just going on to someone about how I haven't said anything all day when they called my number to speak. I stood up, introduced myself, announced my number, and had a conversation with the defense attorney that went a lot like this...
Defense- Juror **, earlier today you were the only one to say 'yes' to question 32. Me- Which one was that? (I knew which one) Defense- The one about having a prior bias about this case. Me- Oh, yeah that was me. Defense- Care to explain? Me- I'm a little bias to the 'victim' (Oh yes, I used fucking air quotes). Especially if its a girl. That's just who I am. I sympathize for the female victim. And from what you and your colleagues have been leading on to so obviously, I take it these two men are accused of kidnapping and raping a hooker. I'm going to go out on a limb and say they're probably guilty. They're sitting here for a reason. Something happened. Defense- Excuse me? Me- Don't get me wrong, if the evidence doesn't hold up, then they're innocent. I'm not a bast...bad person. I wouldn't convict them unless the evidence was sound, but I'm gonna start out the trial assuming their guilty. Defense- Really? The law states they're innocent until proven guilty. Me- I know. If they're innocent, then they'll be innocent. But I'm assuming they did it. Defense- (turns around) Ummm, Your Honor? Can we clarify this a little? Judge- Prosecutor? Prosecutor- (turns to me) Let me get this straight. What would your verdict be if we deliberated now. Me- Like, right now? Before the actual trial? Prosecutor- Yes, right at this moment. Me- Oh, they're guilty. If I had to call it right now, without hearing witnesses, they're definitely guilty.
(mixture of laughter and gasps from the crowd)
Prosecuter- (PISSED) Your Honor? Judge- You're excused. Me- Right on! Judge- Please don't be so excited.
I did end up getting picked on Tuesday though. Karma fingered my butthole for acting out on Monday. I went to great lengths insulting both plantiff and defendant but these assholes opted not to oust me as the prior judge did. Oh well, due to legal concerns, I can't go any further until next Thursday when I'm done.
Late Wednesday Edit: People are still talking about my outburst on Monday. It has made me quite famous amongst the jurors in the courthouse.
November 1st Edit: I talked to my mother for the first time since this happened and she told me about a story a co-worker told her the other day about his jury duty experience. He was telling my mother about my outburst without even knowing I was her son. FUNNIEST SHIT EVER!!!!
They say three is a magic number. There were three wise men, Goldielocks had three bears, the three little pigs, three trimesters in a pregnancy, three people in a threesome, the Holy Trinity, three points for a field goal, and three branches of government and so on. Oh, and don't forget death's rule of three: three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food. The magic number I'm about to explain has nothing to do with any of this. Although, three in this case would be an outstanding number. I'm talking about the dreaded 'how many guys have you fucked' number. The 'magic' number.
A woman's magic number is alot like your golf score. When you're amongst friends, who cares how high it is. Any other time, it's the lower, the better. It's something we really don't want to know about our girlfriend, but at the same time we have to know. It's not that we judge her or anything, but we'd like to pretend we're boldly going where hopefully no more than one person has repeatedly gone before. We'd like to pretend that she wasn't ever plowed on a regular basis by horny teenagers. Sure, that hope becomes less and less of a reality as we get older, but it's still a hope. My suggestion is to not ever ask. They're going to lie to us regardless, but even then, anything they tell us will be way too many. "I know you're forty, but TEN guys! Whore!!" After thinking about it, ten guys worth of cum is more than enough of what our girlfriends should have seen in their lifetime. Avoid this awkward conversation and use this little cheat sheet I came up with to give yourself a believable number to work with.
First you need the basic numbers: her current age, when she lost her virginity, and the combined length of all of her serious relationships. Take those numbers and convert them into months. Take her (v)irginity age and subtract it from her current (a)ge, then take the combined length of her (s)erious relationships, subtract 20% of that length, and subtract that total from the resulting age. After that, multiply it all by two (default) or one (less than attractive). Divide your ending number by 12 and then round up to the nearest whole number. This is an acceptable, initial estimate for your woman. The resulting number is the number that you are unable to make a big deal about. It may be a little conservative at times, but once you really get to know your woman, you can take in to account a whole different set of variables. Call this a starting point.
[2{(a-v)-(s-0.2s)}]/12 = about the maximum number of guys who have been deep inside her that you can't get mad at
Yes, 'deep'. Believe in it. It's math.
Example: The woman is 24. She lost her virginity at 16 and she's had two serious relationships with a combined length of 2.5 years. This means you can't get mad if she's been with up to 12 guys. Hopefully it's less than that, but you have to accept it and move on.
To conclude my math lesson, I leave you with this:
Unless she's an honest-to-God virgin, accept the fact that your woman has been fucked by other men. Accept it. Whether it was after her prom, at a house party, or in a random dorm room with someone watching in the next bed, she's had sex. She's been bent over before. She has probably had a few dicks in her mouth. She may even have a few pictures of it floating around. She might have only been with two other guys, but those two guys could have really turned her out...at the same time. Deal with it. Deal with it or break up. Don't whine.
Late Edit: Sometimes the magic number is the least of your worries. What do you think is worse...
My ex had this nasty anger/jealous streak that could not be matched. She would turn it on for a few minutes and then turn it off like nothing happened. It was scary. Here’s an example:
We stopped by the Safeway to pick up a few things before heading to her place. It was an average shopping day for us. We usually had a little fun doing whatever we did and that day was no different.
As I began to unload our stuff on the conveyor belt at the cashier, I felt a little tickle at my hips. I chuckled (men don't giggle) and turned around to see a girl I knew from high school the year before. I was friends with her older sister and I shared a class with her at one time. We exchanged smiles and hellos and she went to bag our groceries. This did not make my girlfriend happy.
I go to take out my wallet when I notice out of the corner of my eye my girlfriend going to talk to our friendly bagger. I didn’t think much of it until she grabbed her arm and dragged (well, more pulled than dragged) her away from our bags to a spot closer to the door. I saw her quietly and somewhat calmly talk to this poor girl (who was a whole 5 to 7 inches taller and 25 to 30 pounds heavier than her, by the way) for a few minutes and then rejoined me as I grabbed the bags. I went to say bye to my friend only to get a meek ‘bye’ in return as she held her head down, staring at her shoes, refusing to make any eye contact with me whatsoever.
Me- What exactly did you say to her? Her- (smiling)I pretty much told her to not ever touch my boyfriend like that. Ever. Again. Me- Why would you do something like that? What is wrong with you? Her- (still smiling)She should know better. I will hurt her. I bet she never does it again. Me- That was rude. Now I have to apologize to her. Her- (perma-smile) Umm, she won’t be talking to you anymore.
I never saw her again. I wouldn’t be surprised if my ex buried her somewhere close to Jimmy Hoffa and Amelia Earhart.
On another note, I ran across this site the other day. He knows what I'm talking about.
These two words will guarantee a great chick fight. Girls can do and say almost anything in the heat of the moment and nothing ever comes from it. I’ve seen girls throw drinks at each other.
Nothing.
I’ve seen a girl tell another she’s been sleeping with her boyfriend.
Nothing.
What I’m trying to say is, grown women just don’t going around fighting everyone. But when a girl looks another straight in the eyes and begins a sentence with, “Look, bitch…”, everyone there knows a fight will soon commence. Their eyebrows scrunch, their finger gets to pointing, and everyone around them gets real quiet. It’s like a signal, a bell ringing if you will, that this is not going to be an ordinary argument. This won’t be some excuse to release some pent up aggression or give some drunken confessional. This will be a hair-pulling, eye-gouging, cunt-punching, grand ol’ time. And really, that’s why we’re all standing there to begin with. It’s all about the cunt-punching.
It’s pretty much the same with men also. Except we have to add a little something to it (and there’s no cunt-punching). The crowd knows when they hear a comment beginning with, “Look, you little bitch…”, there’s gonna be some blood. Motherfucker won’t do, asshole won’t either, but shit will go down when you call a grown man a little bitch. Its like some kind of subconscious trigger that brings us back to the time when our dad commented on our throwing ability or when we cried in front of our girlfriend (not that I’ve ever done that). Whatever the case is, someone’s gotta go. There has to be an Alpha Male at the end of all of this.
Whether you think he did it or not (he did), he was never actually convicted. He's just a 40-something year old man who sleeps with kids, plays with toys, keeps vails over his 'children's' faces, shows up to court in pajamas, has fans who cry when they see him, and still thinks he's the 'King Of Pop' normal kind of guy.
