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on friday, i went to court.
well, actually, on thursday i went to court because the receptionist told me the wrong time. "pregnancy brain," she shrugged as i noted to my future self that pregnancy brain is a socially accepted excuse for just about anything, even wrong court dates + a threat that there was a warrant out for my arrest. FOR MY ARREST! ...but actually it was just a 'bench warrant,' my hearing is just dramatic.
is this something that people blog about? it was really nothing, just failure to show insurance + following too closely. and cooking that blue ice in a fleetwood bounder. my lawyerly father is most probably rolling his eyes at me now and/or crafting an email to politely say that court is not something you blog about. same with periods.
i walked in right on time + was instructed to sit on a bench with a bunch of other people. criminals, i tell you! we were all squished together + the man next to me assured me that this was a 'nice judge.' he knew because 'he used to do a lot of drugs.' we made fast friends. everyone around me was sweating + also flirting with one another? nervous flirts...drastically better than nervous farts.
after sitting on the bench for twenty or so minutes, i was called into a private room with a different bench + so. many. handcuffs. my dirty mind ran wild + i was instantly disappointed when i was greeted by a portly, sweaty lawyer man instead of a beared jeff stapleton in flannel + a cowboy hat (it's a sexy thought! all sexy thoughts involve odd headwear!). we chatted briefly + i avoided eye contact. it was all very anticlimactic.
then! i was left to sit s'more + listen to other people plead their case. it was all so very peculiar. the judge called the others up individually as portly, sweaty lawyer man (P.S.L.M., for short) chatted loudly with the judge + explained your case,
"this man trespassed + missed his court date due to this + that + what have you..."
...meanwhile the judge stared straight at you.
it was all very sweaty.
when it was my turn, i walked up nervously + could not contain my laughter. was this happening? this was so elle woods. or maybe brooke windham? (if you are following these legally blonde references, consider yourself smooched!) the portly, sweaty lawyer man (P.S.L.M., for short) ran my papers up to the judge + explained my case. the judge asked me if i was pleading guilty or not guilty + i couldn't decide if people actually said guilty or if it was something they only did on made-for-television dramas. i felt like i did when my dad told me that if i ordered a burger at la casa lopez they would come out yelling at me + singing a song about hamburgers. so much anxiety + so much confusion.
after holding eye contact for a shockingly long time, i mumbled, "guilty...?" + the judge gave me a fine.
then i was whisked off to a table where a lady in a pantsuit had me sign some papers + off i went! my friends! my people! P.S.L.M!
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i'm already crushing 2014. i really am. ;)