Also, you know how I'm always saying things like I'm going to stab Nick? But you know I would never actually do it. I just kind of verbally over-react to things sometimes or always.
Just a reminder.
Plus, did you know that if you're a felon, you can't serve on a jury? I asked Nick if they ask for proof and he told me that he didn't know but in any case nobody would believe me.
Because how did he know that was where I was going with it?
Much like whether or not I would make a good lesbian, I get all bothered when people tell me I can't do something. So I was all, I could too seem like a felon. Don't you think?
He says no.
When Fred got annoyed, he would make these little huffing FFFFFFFFFFT hissing noises PSSSSSSSSSSSSSHT and bend his front legs and put his chin on the ground and stomp his furry little back feet one by one. Sort of like he was kicking sand backwards one foot at a time.
FFFFFT FFFFT FFFFT
And when I am annoyed, I have this feeling I do something very similar. At least internally.
So yesterday I was all in a tizzy, because I'd just realized that my previously postponed jury duty (legitimate excuse: breastfeeding) was July 8! Which was suddenly tomorrow! Aaagh!
FFFFFT FFFFFFFFFT! PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHT! Stomp stomp kick kick!
So I hustled myself to jury duty this morning all hissy and stompy and OF COURSE I had demagnetized my metro card because I have demagnetized every fucking metro card I have ever bought and do you know how large a stash of useless metro cards I have that I need to send in?
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFT PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHT! Fucking secret magnets!
I was late and sweaty and hissy and stompy as I ran back and got myself another metro card and then clop-clop-clopped in my ugly but oh-so-practical Dansko commuting clogs down to the train.
All this fretty hurrying was for naught, because the check-in line was long.
FFFFFFT FFFFFFFFT PSSSSSSSSSSHHHHT drip drip sweat sweat.
So I sweated in line for a while answering work email and fretting about all this
FFFFFFT FFFFFFFT PSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHT come on!
Because, it turned out, she had a felony record.
FFFffNow this is interesting...
So she was waving this piece of paper and saying it was wrong, and they told her that they couldn't do anything about it, and in order to fix the record she needed to go to an office upstairs.
They pointed to a line on the paper and said, "This right here is the problem. It says here you pled guilty."
"Oh, I don't have my glasses."
"It says guilty."
"I don't think so. I don't remember that."
"You don't remember?"
"Uh uh. I'm pretty sure I didn't plead guilty."
"Well, it says you did. So we are going to have to excuse you."
(And there I was thinking, that looks easy. And whatever they think she did, I'd like to know!)
"Oh! You know what! I remember! I did plead guilty! Because my lawyer said to. But they let me off."
"Well, we have to go by what this piece of paper says. You need to go upstairs to see about getting the record changed."
There was more back and forth, and then she left. And both clerks said, "Next!"
And then the senior clerk called across to the other, "You have to go by what the record says. You can't listen to what they tell you."
"Yes, I was."
The senior clerk pointed in the direction of the woman. "But don't even listen to their stories. I mean, that one? Murder."