Rotten Civics

Way'll: "Well" said Paula Dean-style from ma keetchin tu'yerz, y'aaaall... even though I'm not a big fan of Paula's. Now, Giada? I've met Giada. And I have a major straight-girl crush on Giada. That girl can CHOP!
Anyway, my point. I've had better luck in my life. This afternoon, I was given the option to reschedule to be on a jury four-weeks postpartum or just get it over with now. I rescheduled and then came to my nut-job senses. I'll be getting this over with, thank you.

Believe it or not, this is a rather easy way to lug a baby around if I have to be lugging a baby around. A four-week-old is hungry, poopy, tired or all three. And apparently the powers that be take my civic duty seriously... as they should. They might *want* me weighing all the evidence. After all, I'd venture to say I have a higher IQ than the larger portion of the felon's "peers" [not to toot my own brain, but it's probably true].

See, I don't come up with unreasonable doubt. I don't consider: "Well, maybe the giant load of marijuana fell from the sky as the guy was tripping over a wrinkled rug and just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when it fell into his lap while simultaneously having his door slammed in by the narcs. Gravity can be a real bitch." or... "Maybe he had several coke-dusted gram scales for truth-in-advertising purposes. I'm sure you'd want to make for darn sure that your dime-bag purchase is indeed a complete dime-bag. Nobody likes to be ripped off! Dealers are shaaaaady! I would walk around with a coke-dusted gram scale and weigh everything if I were a junkie. I'd need to know I was getting my money's worth... not at all concerned that I had my glorious "FIX" within seconds of my salivating orifice. I'm not sure he's trafficking since he wasn't even in the same room with the most giant rock of crack cocaine I or you have ever seen when he was busted." - Among quite a few substantial points favorable for a guilty verdict, these and many more were the "reasonable doubts" of other jurors we depend on in our criminal-justice system. I feel safer all the time after that first experience on a jury.

I'm sure I'll have a lot to say after I'm not bound by law to be hush hush - especially if I'm anywhere as BULLIED into a not-guilty vote on the larger charge: [trafficking in that case], but guilty on possession charges since those chicken-turds couldn't live with being responsible for this thug's fate with all their doubts and all [trafficking carries a heftier sentence] ... So, if you ever wonder and feel outraged about spending tax-payer money sustaining the life of an inmate serving ten years for possession of an illegal substance, be sure there is no such thing as a unanimous verdict; and those who want out of that room to silence their nicotine beasts had better give me something for my vote. The unfortunate part: there is always so much more to the story that somehow becomes inadmissible in court - and only after the final slam of the gavel are we allowed to ask and be informed. I was right the whole time. I cried. Probably because of how bullied and backed into a corner I felt, not really because I think this one guy behind bars really puts that big of a dent in the drug issues we face.

Maybe I won't even be chosen. Stay tuned. Funny, I was in the "please, dear Jesus, excuse me" group with my cousin, Kourtney. However, she is legitimately a med-student who needs to be absolutely, one-hundred percent present for every single solitary tidbit of information given or she'll most certainly flunk. She was excused until the end of her Spring semester.

All that to say - I was rather annoyed. And nothing makes annoyed any better than live-culture frozen yogurt...

I admittedly should not be making this face, flex my neck-muscles like that, or be photographed sitting down, but I have a rather rotund human-shelf that needs a bit of the spotlight. She can be SUCH a narcissist!


And of course, these people make everything better - yogurt or not.