Criminal

(Pre-Script: This post will lock you up and throw away the key when read as the song,"Good Intentions," #62 on the playlist, plays in the blackground. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...) (...still waiting...)

Well, traffic court was interesting.

By "interesting," I mean completely boring.

Raise your hand if you have never been to traffic court.

I could have raised my hand with you anytime in my life before 1:30 pm today. I walked into the building and stood where all of the other losers stood, also awaiting their day in court. At 1:30, they let us into the room and told us to sit. Then when the judge walked in we were told to stand. Then she immediately told us to sit, so we sat, and listened as she told us what's what in traffic court. About a third of the way through her monologue I realized that the bench on which I was sitting was hard, wood, solid. I had forgotten to bring my stadium buddy and my beer hat. I had forgotten to wear my foam finger. Occasionally people would enter the courtroom, late. The judge got all kung fu ninja on them for that, and this was the most entertaining part of traffic court.

Judge, from her perch: "What is your name and why are you late for your court time?"

Defendant: (Insert name and excuse here)

Judge: "You're an idiot, get out"* (*general paraphrase)

So then I sat there and listened to the million cases which were of course called before mine. I thought, "Surely after listening to all of these people, I will know exactly what to say" Friends, I am here to tell you that even though I was almost the last person the judge called up today, there was still a bunch of stupid stuff that came out of my mouth. I am not nearly as eloquent in person, in front of a Real Live Judge, as I am in my own head, circa 1987, and I am 11 years old watching Judge Whopner on the People's Court.

This is also due in part to the fact that being in court makes me feel like a Horrible Criminal. Like the state of California has something against me, the state of California knows who I am. Even if it is just traffic court. I can just imagining my life in an orange jumpsuit with shackles around my ankles as I shuffle through the cafeteria carrying a tray of unrecognisable gray prison lunch slop. Oh what a life; and I was always such a good, good girl.

In the end I got a reduced fine, a payment plan, and a mid life crisis.
So I wont actually be wearing the orange anytime soon. I'll just maybe wear the t-shirt that says "I went to traffic court, and all I got was this Massive Identity Complex."

and then I'll carry on with my life of crime, 'cause once you're in the clink, it's all you know.

-XOXO,