Monday, March 22, 2010

On This Day in Squeegee History

DATE: MARCH 22, 1998 (more or less...)
LOCATION: PIZZA HUT. QUINCY, MA

I was sitting in a booth with Nick and Jose. Jose noticed a clown sitting a few booths behind me. I don't mean the "oh boy that guy's such a clown! kind of clown, I mean the rainbow wigged, floppy shoed, balloon-animal-making kind of clown. Jose told me to look over my shoulder because he continues to think that I'm afraid of clowns, when in reality, I merely would just prefer to avoid them whenever possible.

Anyway, forget about the clown. When the waitress brought us our pizza, she asked me "How's your headache?" And I thought "Well that was cryptic. I don't even have a heada----ahhhhh!" To this day I don't understand what happened. I felt fine until she said anything, then all of a sudden I got a sharp pain in my temple. She was some kind of...voodoo waitress.

This has been On this day in Squeegee History. Brought to you by Pringles.
Pringles

Pringles. Taste the hyperbolic paraboloid.™


Friday, March 05, 2010

Missed Opportunities

Yesterday would have been a good day for a rousing speech. Because it was March 4th, and you could have been like "March fourth...TO VICTORY!" or something. March fourth...TO ZERO DOWN PAYMENT ON A 2010 KIA SORENTO! And it would resonate with people, because it was the date, and it means to move forward. Now we've got to wait a whole year for the opportunity to come around again. It's a shame, really.

Kind of like how I never got around to writing the second part of my friend's wedding story, and now it doesn't matter, because they're friggin' divorced. Oh, did I just casually throw that out there? Yes I did.

Tuesday, March 02, 2010

A Brief Conversation

For Lent, Michele is eating nothing but some kind of seaweed soup thing, so I went to my mom's house for dinner on Friday.

MOM: I think I'm going to go to the gym Saturday morning.

ME: What gym do you go to?

MOM: Planet Fitness.

ME: Oh, you know who lives right next door?

Mom: No, who?

ME: Jim Nabors.

See, it's funny, because...well, I'll let my brother explain.


GLENN: It works on two levels.

BRIANNA: I don't get it.

MOM: They are gym neighbors, like Jim Nabors? You know "Well Gaw-aw-aw-lly!"

GLENN: Wait, what?

MOM: You don't know who Jim Nabors is? Gomer Pyle?

GLENN: Oh.

ME: Hold on, then why were you laughing?

GLENN: I thought you just made up a name for the joke.

Wednesday, February 03, 2010

The First Rule of Jury Duty is You Do Not Talk About Jury Duty

I'm a jury duty magnet. I've had to report in just about every three years since I turned 18, which is the minimum amount of time they have before they can legally send me another notice. The first few times I didn't have to go to the courthouse; I called the number on the juror card the day before I was to appear and an automated message told me that my group was on standby.

A few years later, I had to go to the Quincy courthouse, which I walked by several times before I realized where to go. I guess I was expecting a big marble building with massive pillars and that lady with the scales and blindfold out front. It was just a plain brick building that looked like an elementary school. Anyway, when I did find it, I proceeded to sit in a room all morning waiting for something to happen. A bailiff came in a few times and told us that our presence in the jury pool was causing cases to plea rather than go to trial, so we were serving an important purpose. Which was fine with me, because I really didn't want to get picked.

I had jury duty again on Monday, this time in Dedham. The court is just a fifteen minute walk from my grandmother's house, so I stayed there Sunday night so I could be there at 8:00 AM Monday morning. The jury pool had previously been held in the basement of the Supreme Court, but was moved across the street to the Registry of Deeds. Still, the room we were in looked like a typical courtroom like the ones on daytime tv. There was over a hundred potential jurors packed into the room and we all watched a VHS tape from the mid to late 1980s about the differences between civil and criminal cases, and stressed that if we are selected to be on a jury, we cannot read or watch anything about the case, we can't tell anyone anything about the case, and we can't talk amongst ourselves about the case. The video was hosted by a judge who, while undoubtedly prominent and well-respected in 1987, had a habit of pronouncing "r"s as "w"s and "jury" as "Julie." Could they not have found someone else? It just seems cruel to make her say Julie 300 times. I wonder if she was deaf maybe? Is it against the law to make fun of a judge? Actually, now that I think about it, she did a great job and was very informative and there was nothing wrong with that video whatsoever, let's move on.

After the video, the called out numbers 1-90 to go across the street to the Supreme Court. I was number 7. Despite my several previous times being called to jury duty, this was the first time I'd ever actually made it this far into the process. We all walked over to the other building and found seats in courtroom 3. A judge introduced a civil case that we could potentially be serving on. She introduced the plaintiffs and the defendant, then the lawyers introduced themselves. The first guy said his name and the name of his law firm, and that he was representing the plaintiffs. The second guy said his name and law firm, which was the same firm as the first guy. And I thought "Gee, that's weird, the same firm is being used for both sides. Can they even do that?" But then he said "...and I will also be representing the plaintiffs." Ah. Right. Idiot. Lastly, an older guy stood up and said he was the lawyer for the defense. From a different firm. With his name in the title, even.

After everyone was introduced and the particulars were laid out, the long and arduous process of jury selection began. There were 14 seats in the juror's box to fill, with 90 people to fill them. Actually, I was already sitting in the juror's box, but only because that was the only place left to sit. The judge asked us a series of a questions, starting with whether anyone knew either the plaintiffs or defendant. (Off to the side, a lady cupped what looked like one of those horse feedbags over her face whenever anyone said anything. I'm guessing it was a recording device.) If the answer to any of the questions was affirmative, we were instructed to hold our jury card in the air until a court officer counts them all and its put on record. I held mine up three or four times, confident that I'd be out of here in no time.

When all of the questions were finished, the judge, flanked by lawyers for both sides, called each potential juror up to the bench one at a time for follow up questions. Since I was number 7, I didn't have to wait very long for my turn. The first five people--for some reason there was no juror 1--went up to the bench individually, quietly spoke with the judge, and were then either told to take a seat in the jury box or were escorted out of the courtroom. Four of the 14 seats had been filled by the time my number was called. I approached the bench, and the judge asked if I knew anyone who was born at South Shore Hospital. I said "Yeah. Me." And my brothers, my mom, cousins' kids...need I go on? The next follow up question was if anyone in my family is a physician or works in the medical field. "My girlfriend works at Harvard Medical School, my cousin and aunt are both nurses, my brother works with Medicare...something." I was sure that was enough, but she asked if any of them worked in pediatrics.

No, I said. Well, I don't know. I couldn't remember what field my cousin is in. I know she works at Brigham and Women's in Boston. Then she asked if any of this will sway my judgment in any way. Say yes say yes say yes....

"I don't think so."

Damn it!

I bounced back, telling her that I live in Weymouth, down the street from South Shore Hospital (ooh, good one!) and I didn't have any means of transportation to get to Dedham every day. The judge looked at the lawyers and asked if there was a train or bus that went from Weymouth to Dedham. No one came up with anything. Looks like I had just punched my ticket out of there.

"Well, my grandmother lives five minutes away. That's how I got here this morning. I guess I could stay there."

DAMN IT!!!!

Ironically, the only unsolicited information I didn't give her was that I can't keep a secret. Why didn't I mention that? There's no way I'd be able to not talk about this case for 8 days. I read all the Harry Potter spoilers when each book came out, and I've never even read a damn Harry Potter book! It's compulsive. I can't help it. And I can't lie. It's not that I don't lie, I'm just terrible at it.

Before I realized what had happened, my name was called to sit in seat number five in the jury box. Well that's just ducky. I took my seat and watched the proceedings from my new home for the next eight days, which was almost exactly where I was sitting before I had been called up. When juror 18's number was called, the officer accidentally said juror 20's name. "I've been called a lot of things, but never (John Smith, or whatever #20's name was)" the guy bellowed. When he was selected to sit in the jury, I was pretty sure he was going to maneuver himself into being the foreman. He seemed like the abrasive type that wants to be in charge of everything.

The first 12 seats were filled pretty quickly. It wasn't until the final two that the lawyers decided to start scrutinizing, at which point a steady stream of people approached the bench, said their piece, and were on their way. What were they saying? What was their secret? I should have said I hated doctors. Or I loved doctors. Either one would work, really. I guess by this time you've figured out that this case involved doctors. A young couple were suing their doctor because their son has cerebral palsy, a condition that can be caused by complications at birth. Don't tell anybody, okay?

Even after all 14 had been selected, the lawyers were given the opportunity to contest anyone they wanted. I might have made it through the first round, but with all the people left in the pool with no connections to the hospital or physician relatives, surly one of them would be a better fit for this case. The take-charge guy was the first to go. I didn't see that coming. Every time someone was removed from the jury box, they had to get someone else to fill their place. Sometimes, someone would be picked and then immediately excused. Eventually, after going through around 63, 64 jurors the 14 were finalized, myself included. We were dismissed for the day, but had to be in at ten minutes to night the next morning when the trial began. The judge anticipated it to be 8 days, which would run from 9 AM to 1PM, we'd have the weekend off, as well as the following Wednesday, and the deliberations were expected to start next Thursday.

As I walked back to Nana's house I called Michele, then my mom, and told them they wouldn't be seeing me for a while. I went home and grabbed my toothbrush and a bunch of clothes, said goodbye, and got ready for my first time on an actual Julie.

Tuesday morning I left the house at 8 and started a leisurely walk to the courthouse. It was cold out, but I had a scarf wrapped around my face. I stopped at a bagel place on the corner and got a bagel and some coffee, and continued on into the building. There were already a couple of people in the jury room getting acquainted with each other. Actually, two of them knew each other previously because they coached a team together. Another younger woman was on one of those teams. I guess knowing other jurors doesn't get you out of jury duty either. As it got closer to 9, more people trickled in, and I started to get into the whole being on a jury thing. My grandmother loved having my around, and the other jurors seemed pretty cool, and since we weren't allowed to talk about the trial with each other, maybe I could subtly mention that I do freelance graphic design. And I passed a panini place on the over that I could try for lunch. Plus I told the judge I was unemployed, and she said I could fill out some paperwork and get $50 a day for this. Yeah, come to think of it, this is a blessing in disguise.

The bailiff did a head count to see if we were all in yet, and joked that this was the hardest part of his morning. Still missing one more. After a few minutes, the last guy showed up and we got ready to head into the courtroom. The judge came in right behind him, and told us that she had some sad news.

We all know that last minute deals were made all the time before cases go to trial, so I think we were all expecting her to say that there was a settlement and we can all go home. Instead, she solemnly told us that the boy's father went into a diabetic coma the night before, and that he had passed away early that morning. He was 34. I noticed that he left about midway through the jury selection, but I thought maybe he was bored out of him mind like we were. The judge said the case will continue, but obviously it will be on hold indefinitely to deal with funeral arrangements and to take care of her son, since she had previously worked while her husband was the child's primary caregiver. And because trials can take months to schedule, when it does start up again, they will need to select a whole new jury and start over.

Yes, we all wanted to get out of jury duty, but not this way. And I was actually starting to look forward to the rest of the trial. Everyone just sat there in complete and utter shock, unable to believe what just happened. Everyone except the guy who came in late, who said "Are you guys just going to sit around here?" and immediately went home.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Breaking the Silence

Alright, I guess this has gone on long enough. Time to fess up. I guess I'm just going to have to accept that after all this time, I was wrong. For years I've wondered what "take out TCP" means in the song Respect. I thought maybe TCP was some kind of drug. I sure as hell didn't know what "rese" was. But it turns out the correct lyric is "Take care, TCB." TCB stands for "take[ing] care of business"

That somehow makes even less sense than taking out TCP. First, why say take care, followed by TCB, when the "TC" part means "take care"? That's redundant. And why throw in an acronym when you just finished spelling a word? It just seems like that would invite confusion. What's even more confusing is according to Wikipedia, the lines:

R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Find out what it means to me
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Take care ... TCB

are not even present in Otis Reading's original version of the song. He did add it later, and apparently there's some debate over who actually used the line first, but my question now is, if it wasn't even in his version of the song, what did he have in it's place?

Did anyone know the actual lyric prior to reading this? Are you not shocked? The only reason I know is that I looked up what "take out TCP means" one day after wondering my entire life. Even Tiny Toons thought it was take out T-C-P.



I guess if I'm completely honest, that's not the only thing that's been bothering me. See, I have Yahoo set as my homepage, but they completely rearranged the site a few months ago and I absolutely hate it. I'll see a story that looks interesting, but when I move the mouse, it turns into something else, because the cursor barely touched the sidebar and opened up "View Yahoo Sites" or "Autos" or some damn fool thing. It's annoying and I wish they'd change it back to normal. But I guess things will never go back to normal, no matter how much I want them to.

One of the staples of Yahoo is the "featured" comic strips. I clicked on today's, but Yahoo doesn't tell you the name of the strip, so unless you already know it or the artist writes it in the first block (which takes up valuable space) you're on your own. Here is what they have today:

Photobucket


HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! See, it's funny, because...um...wait....what the hell is this supposed to be? I guess it looks a bit like that movie The Last Starfighter, but that can't be the joke, right? I mean, the thing is FIVE PANELS LONG! Does it really take five panels to say "Hey look, 80s movie reference lol". And in three of them are just of someone walking. I have no idea what the hell I'm supposed to be looking at.

I found out from reading the url that the comic is called Jane's World and from the comics' site that it's about a lesbian. So maybe there's some contextual thing I'm not getting. Is sector three some kind of secret lesbian code? Do they like to buy ice? Since I'm not familiar with the strip, I could be looking at this the wrong way. Maybe it's one of those Mary Worth-type comics that has boring ongoing dramatic storylines instead of lame throwaway gags. Even if that were the case, what is going on here? Entertain me, damn it! I'm so confused. Anyone want to give it a shot?