Animal Cruelty

I haven't posted in a long time. I took on a full-time job as a public defender. The stories are so daunting I couldn't laugh at them. But ... I grow cynical. And their stories funnier.

Today, a client wasn't in court. Because he was in jail. Why was he in jail? Because he called the police to report a "dying possum." Then stayed with the possum until the police came. Forgetting he had a felony warrant for his arrest. Then fled. And the police missed him and tased his mother. Which finally got him to stop.

Anthropomorphic Addiction

I bought a box of tampons yesterday. I was immediately drawn to them in the store. Unlike most of the feminine hygiene products, which are teal and pink and lumpen (for unknown and surely bizarre reasons - I'm picturing middle-aged men around a table at Unilever looking nervously at a pair of a mistress's undies), they were in a sleek little brushed black box.

I was not disappointed. They are delightful colors, lounging in their little box, rich and bright but not obnoxious. They have this rubber grip usually reserved for ensuring deadly weapons don't slip out of one's hands.

They are, however, a little confusing. I mean, one of the small but universal goals of the modern woman is to keep her tampons concealed. No one wants to reach for a Chapstick and instead brandish a Tampax Pearl in our boss's face.

Lest, you know, the world discover something that happens each month for decades to slightly more than one-half of the population.

So I am confused. These ones are amazing! I want to show them off! A few hours ago, I started chatting to one about avant garde poetry and she lost me in a matter of minutes. Another shared her very interesting views on neo-colonialism.

I'm not sure whether to use the rest of them or invite them to a rave.

Status Update

I am living like a king!!

A deposed king.

With gout.

Munchies

My nephew was supposed to arrive at our house yesterday around 1 p.m. He informed me of this around noon.

We did not hear from him all day, nor did he appear, which is unusual as he is a responsible kid.

This morning, it was revealed that he had eaten four servings of Fettuccine Alfredo shortly after he texted me.

Which might be enough to make someone sick, period.

In this case, however, his mother had infused the noodles and sauce with weed. Not just any old weed, either, but medical marijuana of a grade used for cancer patients. My nephew, who has never even consumed an alcoholic beverage, has been high for 24 hours now and I am seriously considering obtaining more food from her to keep this scenario going.

My nephew just read the above and called me a "sick fuck."

There is such a thing as being too nice.

So, I'm doing video court from the jail this morning. It's going well. The people I think should be released are getting released, everything's moving quickly. I've remembered a pen so the clerks don't turn on me, as they were apparently about to. Over pens. But I digress. They keep certain defendants in solitary cells as they're waiting for court but we rarely know why. So I get my guy out of one of those and I arraign him and I've just made an argument to have him released when I look down. And his hand's in his pants. And it's not sitting still. That's right. A little public pleasuring.

The worst part? I'm convinced the judge is going to let him out so I DON'T EVEN SAY ANYTHING until the camera's off.

One day, all the times I've been fucked over by being a soft touch are going to swell up and turn me into a raving Republican.

In which they fill the canals of the roots.

I have forced myself to attend my scheduled root canal.

Taking one look at my terrified face, the dental assistant immediately gives me sunglasses and headphones, and starts the laughing gas via a bizarre face mask that looks like the future.

I resemble a deer in headlights.

Except that I am not delicate, a quadruped, or fawn-colored. Actually at this point, my face might be fawn-colored. I check for hooves.

Styled like Tom Hardy in Batman, I switch through the dreadful music options as the endodontist (who, I calculated, is getting paid more than $800 per hour for all this fun) starts the numbing process. Peculiarly, one option is a calypso station. I was not aware that anyone wanted to hear all calypso all the time. But it beats out soft jazz and mediocre classical. A few songs in, the Cure's "Close to Me" starts playing. I love this song, but I was not aware it was calypso. God bless algorithms.

I have had a lot of laughing gas at this point, in case you hadn't noticed. The doctor returns to begin the procedure.

"How are you doing?" he asks.

"Fine!" I say.*

He performs the root canal.

They slow down the gas as he finishes. Life seems bleak.

I stumble out of the office, somehow grateful to have spent half a month's salary to have my head battered. The fact that he successfully numbed me made it all worth it. In the past, midway through drilling, a different dentist hit a nerve that was not numbed. My expectations have been low thenceforth. My brother pointed out that while he would hate dental school, he would have to work exactly one day per year to earn what he currently earns as a professor. "And I would have all year to prepare for that day!"

When I arrive at work, my boss takes one look at me and sends me home. Was it the drooling or the fact that I'm listing left?

*If by fine, you mean envisioning a series of goats dancing like the Rockettes.

Victory

In a shocking departure from my usual in custody court experience, the judge released everyone who should have been released.

"I could kiss you!" said one defendant.

"God bless you" and "thank you" rang out as I left.

Quite gratifying, as it turns out.