Friday, May 27, 2005

Name of the Week

Tom Collins.

I work with him- every time I see his name, I want a drink.

The big bag of Fuckits.

Tall Brad taught me this theory- the theory of the big bag of Fuckits. I immediately adopted it as my own.

See, everyone is born with a big bag of Fuck-its. Most worries and problems in life can be handled by reaching into your bag, pulling one out and throwing it at the situation. You can mimic the actual action of reaching in your bag and pulling it out if it helps. I do this-- I reach in and throw a fuck-it at the situation.

I use this when I'm stressing about something over which I have no control. I use it when plans change and get complicated and I'm irritated because I HAD A PLAN- and it relaxes me and helps me go with the flow. (Fuckit- the point is to hang with my friends)

I use it in Law when I'm negotiating something or trying to explain to my client why s/he shouldn't do what s/he wants to do. (Fuckit- we'll have a trial if you want even though from what you are telling me it is clear you are culpable.)

I use it when I'm over planning and its clearly time to get on with it- Fuckit, lets just try this and see if it works.

I hope this weekend you are able to reach into your personal bag of Fuckits and relieve yourself of some stress-- maybe you're on the road-- you have a schedule and everyone is screwing with that schedule by driving the speed limit in the fast lane and your significant other needs to pee for the fifth time in two hours, and you realize you forgot to bring your phone charger, and now this Jackass is trying to pass on the inside and break in front of you-- FUCKIT. You'll get there eventually.

Have a great Memorial Day! Remember those who gave their lives to protect your constitutional rights.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005


Most of life's failures are those people who never knew how close they were to success when they gave up." --Thomas Edison

"I don't know anyone worth knowing who hasn't been kicked in the balls by life, gotton up and tried again." MadDog

Welcome new readers...

Ok, I just checked my traffic report and I am pleased as punch to report that I am up to 19 average readers per day.

You rock! 19 people....that's so cool. and scary.

Today I'm in the office dealing with one really funny part of being an attorney: voice messages.

Ok, lets have a primer people: business voice messages should include your FULL name, your phone number (slowly because I'm not used to writing it down) and a brief reason for calling. Further information, like a case number, or best times to return your call are optional.

What am I telling you for? You can probably leave a wonderful message. You will probably only ever need a lawyer for your will and estate work, when buying a home and possibly for your divorce.

Back to my clients, who will be in and out of trouble for the rest of their lives because they are incapable of following simple directions. Let me be blunt with you: I know I make you feel like you are the only once I care about, but I have more than one client named Jenn, John and/or whatever your name is.

My out going message used to contain a statement that if you did not leave your full name, phone number and case number I might not be able to return your call. At least once a week I would get someone calling me and sobbing that they had been trying to call me for two whole days and they couldn't leave a message because they didn't know their case number, or they weren't my client yet so they didn't have a case number so they couldn't leave a message.

People, if you do not read the paperwork, you get what you deserve. There are two case numbers on each and every piece of paper that leaves my office. It is in the upper right hand corner of the paper, just below the phrase: "Case number." You can read me either one. I won't even try to explain to you that the one next to my initials in my personal office tracking number because I'm afraid your brain might explode with the effort. Last week, I had someone leave my Bar ID number as the case number. The Bar ID number appears below my phone number and just to the right of the phrase "Bar ID Number." The Bar ID number is NOT the case number.

I usually try to turn down accepting people as clients who are unable to leave a message due to their not having a case number because if you're that easily confused, you're never going to be able to follow the directions I give you, and you're probably going to blame me.

My message now is less specific and does request that you leave your name, phone number and case number, if its available to you.

This is why I came to the office today to these messages:

1. 7:18 P.M. Hey this is G------. I got that money for that motion and I soure do appreciate it and I got some more trouble I think I need your help on. and I got that money for you. and I hope you can help me with this new stuff and its gonna cost a lot but don't worry I got you covered. ok, I just wanted you to know.

Phone number? Last name? Ahh well, he has money for me.

2. 8:47 P.M. AttorneyM__________ please help me you've got to help me. (sob) you were so nice to me a few months ago. You might not remember me but I need you to to help me. He's doing it to me again. (sob) I ain't got no money, but you have to help me. He won't let me visit with the kids except in the facility. (sob) (at this point I vaguely remember who she is) He is all upset because I'm not taking my medications but I don't need them. (sob)
Click. No name or number.
I mean, hell, what am I supposed to do with this? I do remember her. I told her I couldn't do anything and that she needed to go and take her meds and work with the counselor.

At first, I believed that if I found the perfect combination of words on the outgoing message they would suddenly get it and begin leaving useful and effective messages. I went through five or six combinations, none of which were measurably more effective at eliciting appropriate messages. I am afraid that the words of P.T. Barnum ring true (At least I think it was him.) "No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American people."

Finally, I am not the Court. I cannot grant continuances. If I have filed contempt against you for not paying your child support, calling and leaving a message on my answering machine when you are supposed to be in Court and I am in Court- probably asking the Judge to issue a writ for your arrest for failing to show up- is not going to get your Court date postponed. If I am your defense attorney, calling me the day before and asking me to put off your Court date because you "just don't feel like dealing with this" is also not going to work. I'm sorry you couldn't get a ride to Court. You had two months to get a ride and it is, in fact, less than 5 miles from your house to the Court so I don't feel sorry for you. Why don't you take those $200.00 tennis shoes for a walk? I am very happy you finally got a job after 15 months of not paying Child Support and sorry it starts the very day you are supposed to go to Court. You STILL HAVE TO GO TO COURT.

This has been a public service announcement.

Friday, May 20, 2005

New favorite T-Shirt

Seen on a t-shirt:

I'm the guy who taught your girlfriend that thing you love so much.

So wonderful!!!

Name of the Week

Nothing that just floored me, but I think I'm jaded because I saw:

Mongloria, Princess, and Sparkle. Oh and Drite. I forgot Drite.

Have a great weekend.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Brilliant Moment

Ok, so my favorite client-- formerly a stripper- is back in Court with her crazy baby daddy. We have always been in Court in County A (and when I say always I mean 6 times in five years- started with a PFA), she now lives in County B and Baby Daddy lives in Fla. So, he gets a lawyer, and sues for expanded visitation 22 months after we were last in Court and had an agreement, which he hasn't stuck with but, whatever. Her uncle pays me and the checks never bounce :)

He, well, his attorney- sues in County B, asking for a Change of Venue. She admits that the Court in County A has handled this matter- I spend probably an hour drafting this very long and complex reply to the venue based on which source the Court used to derive its jurisdiction. This is complex because the Judges in County A have this view that they really don't have jurisdiction to determine child custody/visitation of non-married persons, unless the child is dependent or delinquent, because it doesn't actually give them that authority under the Juvenile Code (a very erudite and probably intellectually correct view). However, the Domestic code says that it applies to unmarried people and that whichever court the Circuit court appoints as the court to handle unmarried people and their visitation issues is the right court... Thus allowing some other District Courts to find authority for jurisdiction over this case in the Domestic Code which has different standards for jurisdiction, retaining jurisdiction and Venue... Thus, my objection had to address all possible legal ways the Judge wanted to view this. Plus, reality wise, the Judges in County A know they get the cases and they just like to make this argument. All that happens is that everyone pleads dependency or delinquency in order to get the case in front of a Judge.

(For non Lawyers: jurisdiction is the right of a particular type of Court to hear a particular type of case- certain cases in District Court, certain in City Court etc... Venue is which of those many Courts is the proper location for the hearing-- County A, County B etc...)

So, I'm going round and round and really getting into this motion... When WHAM!!!!!!

it hits me.


Heheheehe. A short sweet motion using Honorable Court a lot (prudent when you tell a judge you don't know they can't do something) Ahhh, what a great day who you have a breakthrough like that!

Women in Combat

I don't usually get this vehement about things but here it is:

The whole debate about women in combat is a bunch of garbage. Granted, I KNOW every woman is not going to choose, nor be able to function, in a combat situation, but then again neither will every man. This has got to be an individual thing determined by the brass in whatever branch of military the women are serving.

If you fucking lawmakers don't leave this crap up to the individual branches and quit telling wonderful hard working women in combat they aren't allowed to do the jobs they have been given, earned and or been selected to do-- I will come over there and kick your ass. (Metaphorically of course, Um, I don't want the CIA tracking me down thinking I'm threatening any one here.) I will live in a damn trench, not shower and still kick your ass. I will carry 60 pounds ten miles, eat an MRE, shit in the sand without toilet paper and STILL KICK YOUR ASS. I do not care if I have my period-(warning this is graphic) I will rip out my tampon and throw it at you and still kick your ass. In fact, I will get the birthcontrol shot because it will make me not have my period and I will certainly kick your ass then. I don't care if you weigh 400 pounds and are 7 feet tall- I will fight dirty and kick your ass.

Why in God's green earth would you ban women from certain rolls out of hand? Sure, I wouldn't want them to have a necessary number of women-- it should be on merit and ability not a quota system.

I am good in emergency situations, I deal with blood well. There are a number of women out there like me. When the puppy had a bone lodged in his jaw, I got the pliers and ripped it out while my former spouse gagged in the corner. When I was showing the 19 year old boy how to skin and butcher a lamb and he broke the gut sack and began throwing up I just laughed and finished the job. When the boys missed every armadillo they shot at for an hour, I showed them how much fun it was when you hit the armadillo once, make it jump and then hit it again before it hits the ground.

No, pound for pound I am not as strong as a man. I admit that-- but that is completely irrelevant. The question is: Can I do the JOB?

Yes, I might make men think about sex, but I have news for you buddy-- even in a locked room, all alone (most) men still think about sex all the time. Besides, after a few weeks in combat, I guar-on-tee you ain't nobody gonna want to have sex with anybody else. Ask people who have hiked the AT -- funk is a pretty good anti-sex agent.

Puh. Arrrrggg. How fucking dare you tell me what I can and cannot do in the military without letting me have a chance to earn it!!!!!

I would like to point out that sure, that Shannon chick who went to the citadel didn't make it, but that's because she was an unhealthy non-mentally appropriate poster girl- not a real potential cadet. The second girl who went was from a military family and she was chosen squad leader and kicked everyone's ass throughout. Being the right person for the military is INDIVIDUAL. It takes a certain personality type to choose that way of life.

Ok, so that's my rant.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

The story of the Bilbo

I can't believe I haven't put this story out there yet. This is my all time favorite lawyer story.

Warning: this post may not be suitable for minors.

Once upon a time, about 10 years ago, our first female Circuit Judge was having her very first Domestic Docket. She was and is a very cool person and a great Judge. Our main characters are: first, a very old guard, highly respected attorney known for belonging to the Church of Christ, having 4 daughters who all became lawyers, and playing dumb to be smart. We'll call him Wilbur. Second, we have the top of his game attorney, 15 or 20 years younger than Wilbur, very respected, always does his homework, loves anything salacious in Court. We'll call him Antony.

Wilbur and Antony begin their case. Now, remember, this is Judge's first domestic case on the bench. Antony is doing his case in chief with his client, the wife. Antony begins talking about her dildo and how the husband liked her to use it.

Wilbur, honestly, doesn't hear well. After a minute or two, he jumps up and objects to these questions about this Bilbo as to relevance, "I don't know what this Bilbo is but I can't see how it could be relevant."

Antony Immediately demands that the Judge take judicial notice of what a dildo is.

Judge brings the lawyers up to the bench and has to explain to Wilbur what a dildo is. Remember, he's old school Church of Christ. She is just a bit older than Wilbur's children. By this time, half the lawyers in the Courthouse are in the room.

The lawyers return to their tables and the questioning resumes. Antony continues his dildo questioning and again Wilbur jumps to his feet with his objection, "I object your honor, on the grounds that it would be impossible for Her to use it on Him!" No sooner had he gotten this out than Antony promptly Demands Judge take Judicial notice of how the dildo could be used on a man.

Court reporter is collapsing in giggles, Antony is eating this up and Judge is mortified. It must have been a great scene...

Another story with Anthony. I was just licensed-- probably my fifth time in Court and I had to argue the applicability of the Protection from Abuse statute to a case. My client was through the domestic violence people, Anthony's client was a schitzophrenic who didn't tell his girlfriend until he went off his meds. The Judge was Anthony's former law partner, and our most formal and scary Judge. I mentioned before- Anthony is ALWAYS prepared- so I knew I had to be. He is also a yeller. I get so tired of yellers. But at any rate, I make it through the motion docket and the case isn't dismissed. My best line, "You Honor, I'm not sure where the line should be drawn, but I know this case should fall within it."
Antony: 0 St. Yves: 1

We come back for the trial. Now, this case is full of salacious stuff- which Anthony LOVES. Specifically, there are tapes of my client giving her new beau blow jobs. She would bring the tapes back to psycho beau and they would critique her performance and work on her technique. (BTW, just to blow (!) through some stereotypes, these are both professionals who make very good money- and they're swingers.)

When I got to Court for the actual trial, Anthony comes up to me in the hall with this huge shit eating grin on his face. I knew immediately that he knew about the tapes. He opens one side of his jacket and says, "I have this tape I think we should watch with the Judge. (He's grinning. I'm squirming.) I've already got the tv and VCR set up in Chambers. Your client made it and left it on my client's camera and that's why he went so nuts." (Ahh, the old The Bitch made me do it defense. What a winner!) This is where getting your client to tell you everything really pays off. Cool and unruffled on the outside, I shoot back with "Hmm, that doesn't make sense Antony, seeing as how my client made those tapes at your client's request and besides they're really old. I guess I'll just have to go and call the guy in the tape and have him up here to testify."

What I'm thinking inside: If I have to watch a 45 year old woman giving Bjs to these two men who are my dad's age and with two men who are my dad's age I think I'm gonna die.

I walk over the the pay phone and pretend to call dude.

Antony: 0 St. Yves: 2

Yeah, I nailed his client to the floor. We actually settled so he wouldn't have a finding on the record since he would have lost his gun rights- one of the things he did was show up outside her home at 7 AM dressed in cammo and put the 9mm on the hood of his car and do tai-chi in the street for a few minutes before 7 cops converged on him resulting in a low speed chase though the neighborhood. She didn't even know he was out there until it was all over-- one or more of the neighbors called the police. She wanted to settle because her parents were there and she really didn't want to go through the salacious stuff. Plus, he was back on the meds by this point and hadn't done any really bad stuff in a while. Actually, she is my most successful PFA ever- she never went near him again.

Antony: 0 St. Yves 3

Plus, Antony called MadDog and told him I did a good job. : )

Court Fashion

I was reading another blog and they were discussing Court fashion and so I am inspired to tell you my observations on this:

MadDog always said, "The amount of skin you show is inversely proportionate to your social standing." Wild for him is the tie with palm trees or the summer seersucker. He wore 3 piece suits to work each and every day until it became too difficult to find them. In the winter when it was really cold, he wore long underwear with his three piece suits. He comes by it honestly, though, as his father wore three piece suits even when fishing.

I wear suits pretty much every day whether or not I'm going to Court except Fridays, when I wear pants and a sweater set, unless I am going to Court. Suits are easy and give you an air of competency, which shouldn't be discounted. To Court men should wear suits, but can get away with jacket and tie especially in District Court or a motions docket. Footwear has really relaxed lately- Birks have become the rage as have those Cole Hahn/nike loafer things and Merrills.

Women can get away with a lot more than men-- apparently the rule is as long as its a skirt you can wear it to Court-- I saw one lawyer show up in this awful faded knit mumu thing that I would wear as maybe a nightgown but never as a dress. I am not much of a skirt person unless I'm working a jury or a particularly difficult Judge or some sexcrazed opposing council. (hey, if I can distract them and win, ehhh.... not such a problem for me, after all, they always try to bully me.) I have blazed the tennis shoe with suit trail here. I have found that if you wear a very nice suit and very nice tennis shoes you can get away with it. My knee surgery cemented this-- my leg really aches when I don't have good soles to cushion me. Yeah, yeah, that's the ticket.

In law school you have to do Moot Court. I wore a very nice gray silk suit with wide pants and a same fabric jacket and ironed shirt with pearls and dress shoes. The only comment I received was that "Don't you think a skirt would have been more appropriate?" To which I replied, No. I then turned to my friend and said what I wish I had said to the panel: "When I'm a lawyer the length of my skirt will be directly proportionate to the strength of my argument."

Our Judges don't seem to really be bothered one way or another by the slips in dress. Of course, it does depend on who you are--

Good story:

When MadDog was a young lawyer he was in Court with a Judge that used to give him and every other lawyer a very hard time. A lawyer from out of town showed up late and not dressed in a suit. Went he case was called the Judge asked him why he was up there. He told him he was the lawyer. The judge replied, "You may be a lawyer sir, but you are dressed like a defendant."

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

This could have happened anywhere....

I found this trial transcript today and it made me laugh.

Doggie Update

Three months- we made it 3 months and were half a bottle from taking Atreia off her Phenobarbital. Last night at 11:57 she had a seizure for three minutes.

I am so tired and sad. Poor girl-- she was exhausted. At least she neither screamed nor lost bowel control. I guess its pheno for the rest of her life.

Monday, May 16, 2005

This is often how I feel!

Click here to read a manifesto I could have written:

But then, I remind myself: If people did what they are supposed to do, I would have to get a real job.

Now, (I've deleted this section for its lack of moderation.)

Although, I did whip myself into a frenzy, it all came out well in the end. That's why i love my Judges-- I seldon look at their decisions and feel that Justice wasn't served.

Name of the weekend

One of my friends named her child Sealth.

My friend who told me this had to tell me probably six times and then spell it and then give me a minute to really get it in my head. Not Seth, not Self, not Stealth: Sealth.

You know, if that's a family name, some family names should be allowed to pass into the anals of history, or at least be regulated to middle names.

If its not a family name, then WTF?

Friday, May 13, 2005

Philosophical reflections on cloning

I wrote this a couple of years ago and thought I'd post it today. Have a great weekend.

Cloning: My View
The Friday after Christmas, the Raeleans (?) a group in Florida announced the birth of the first cloned Human Being. (Yeah, I seem to recall a few months later the whole thing was proven bogus) Now, supposedly intelligent people (by this I mean senators and scientists) are actually still claiming that cloned people aren't human beings. I have several thoughts on this.
First, Go read Friday by Heinlein. My mother was a test tube/my father was a knife. Is this what you want these poor cloned people the think when they grow up? Did they ask to be born? No.
I heard a senator the other day claim that cloned humans wouldn't have souls. This was just about the most preposterous thing I have ever heard. To begin with, if you believe in God, then God is (at least in Catholic and most Protestant religions with which I am familiar. I can't do a Muslim or Buddhist run down of this argument) omnipotent and omniscient and therefore, if he wants to give the child a soul he will. This is such a bizarre argument to have. To begin with, what is a soul ? I haven’t put any serious thought into this since my College philosophy major days, but lets say that a soul is that part of us that is self aware. Your selfness as it were. Now, lets not go off onto any of those tangents that pop up, like whether or not your dog is self aware (my dog feels shame, or at least acts like she does.), the brain in a vat being manipulated by the scientist to believe it is self aware, (do the rest of you even exist?) and so forth…. So this Selfness- is it intangible breathed into us by God or is it a product of the functioning of our brains- known as the Ghost in the machine theory? We can all pretty much agree that the Soul is either divinely given, or present at birth through the complex system that is our brain. Now with either of these two arguments, cloning does not lead to a soulless creature. The Physical theory—that our selfness is a product of our brain, doesn't seem to be the camp that has a problem with cloning per se as producing a human being.
I want to talk about the God given soul camp. This is the group that believes that God places his hand on each conception and puts a soul into each life. Now, you may wish to make some semantic argument about exactly how this happens, but this is basically the belief that without the touch of God, you have no soul. My question to you is who are you to say that God isn't’t taking care of this? God loves the little children and will not let them suffer. Anyway, this argument will be answered in a year or two when the cloned child can speak- it will become obvious that this child has a self just like any other person.
But somehow, this argument has gotten in the way of the bigger discussion. The Ethics of cloning. Under what circumstances should another person be cloned? Is it ethical for a group, a corporation, to own your DNA? Can you sell your DNA? Because we’re so busy politicizing this situation no one has even gotten to: What rights does a cloned person have? Apparently several senators are pretty sure a cloned person is not a human being- does this mean that she or he has no rights? Since her DNA, I am pretty sure, is registered as being owned by someone, is she a citizen? Descartes said, I think therefore I am. My catechism said, "How do I know I exist? Because I can think about God and the world to come." She going to know she exists, but will existence and humanness be forever separated?
I can’t tell you exactly what it takes to be a chair, but I know one when I see it. I can’t tell you exactly what porn is, nor am I sure any more that I know it when I see it, because its damn near everywhere and that’s cultural. But I can tell you that a child, whether born, cloned, and/or decanted is a person, has a "soul" and should be a citizen.

I also, in case you're not clear on this, think cloning and genetic research on humans is one of the most important areas of scientific study there is. Lets just stick with the cloning of animals and body parts until we are comfortable with the ethical results/decisions that are inherent with cloning a human being.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

Mullet Toss at The Last American Road House

Ok, I'm going ahead and posting this even though it isn't done. Real work has been intruding...

There is a David Allen Coe song with a verse that was very appropos for the Mullet toss: Bikers stare at cowboys, who are laughing at the hippies, who are hoping they'll get out of here alive....

I don't know how many people were there. I do know that there were, on average, 300 people in line to use the port-o-lets at any one time (15 Port-o-lets+ 20 people per line= plenty of time to count people). Extrapolating from this fact, plus the fact that I peed 3 times in a 8 hour period, and the relational density between the line and the beach, I determined there were at least 10,000 people there.

I would like to thank the Port-O-Let company who had female advisors because those "hover grab bars" on the front of the door are fabulous for those of us who just had knee surgery and were really worried about not being able to hover well. Falling onto that seat after the first few hours...beyond nasty.

We arrived at the un-godly hour of 10:15 am. This is when our friend began to play. This is why I was drinking a beer by 10:30, got burned despite spf30 on my shoulders, and didn't notice until the next day.

Top five favorite sights:
1. Spam Man. No, he's not advertising, he just likes to dress like that. Spam, Spam, Spam Spam.
2. The five 70 year old plus ladies sitting around laughing, drinking and having fun.
3. The skinny Hulk Hogan look alike who danced, clogged, stumbled and kow-towed to every band who played from 10:15 until 6 pm, non- stop.
4. Biker boots+ black shorts+leather vest= biker beach wear.
5. Have a home video camera? Shoot your own personal "Girls gone wild" video. Any man+any video camera= GGW. Seriously girls, um, you should really not seek your fame that way.

Best story I heard: A new friend of mine is shooting a movie to be called "The last American Road House" and he was shooting footage for the movie a few months ago at the Flora-Bama. The movie is not a GGW rehash, but nonetheless, apparently young women see cameras and flash automatically. (A Pavolvian response I'm sure) After a long night of shooting a tearful young woman comes up to him and is crying about how she flashed him and she is not signing any release and she is a teacher and this will ruin her career and he mush rewind and erase... and camera man says, "Look, we're not shooting boobs, don't worry, it won't be shown." ...and she's still worried and is sobbing about her career and he said the guys with her were literally about to try to beat him up and he just kept explaining that he wasn't shooting boobs and he wouldn't be using them.
I just started picturing this teacher at home-- still worried the other shoe is going to drop. She is buying the videos to see if she's on them....Sometimes at night she thinks about it and gets that anxious feeling..."I'm going to be fired!" And he really isn't going to use the footage.

Lets see, what else, Oh Tatoos. There were a lot of tatoos.

I like tatoos. I, personally, haven't figured out any thing with which I want to permently mark my body, but I like them. This said, I really think one should put a lot of thought into a tatoo. I mean, this isn't like most things-- it really will last forever--you have to think 50 years into the future. So: that tatoo of a sunshine on your cleveage will look really wierd when you are 55- droopy and wrinkly. Up side: Men (and women) will continure staring at your boob trying to figure out what that that thing is. Down side: When we figure it out we're kind of ickified.

I also think you should really think about it if you're going to have tribal markings placed on your body unless you are comfortable with your inclusion in said tribe. There were some great Maori tatts on people who were definitely not Maori. One day some Maori dude is going to call you on that shit. That's like getting a gang symbol when you're not a part of the gang-- should be avoided. Along this line, if you're going to be combining symbols of major religions, you should think carefully. The (white frat boy) dude with the Latin Cross and chinese symbols at each corner... First commandment: "The Lord thy God is a Jealous God...."

And then, the frat boys with the abstract shoulder vine things or arm band designs. Yes, your shoulders look sexy, but dude, it looks like you all went to the same place and got the same thing.

Ladies: Dolphins going into your ass are so over. And the cute blonde girl I saw with "Shorty" tatooed on her neck (She was 5'8") in cursive right under her hair line-- good placement, but that's a fad word and in 20 years your kids are going to ask you about that and you're going to have to admit you had rap slang tatooed on you.

Look, a tatoo should mean something to you. Good rule of thumb: If you walk into the tatoo place and you're trying to decide what to get, then you need to go home and think about it.

If I lead, please don't follow

A Trip to Nowhere. Or Why I Keep a DeLorme's Atlas in My Car at All Times.

About seven years ago I was involved in one of the weirdest and most embarrassing events I have ever experienced. It all started innocently enough. R. And I were on our way to Tuscaloosa from Birmingham. I was a second year law student he was a third year and we had just started dating. We were cruising along the highway and suddenly noticed a huge black cloud in front of us (Later we learned a gas truck had hit a car). A bit further on the road was closed at an exit and we detoured as the signs indicated. We were a bit nervous as we were not sober and so we started stuffing gum in our mouths and rolling down the windows as we slowed to speak with the State Trooper standing at the edge of the exit.

Now, I fancy myself to be good with accents, especially Southern accents, as I did grow up here. However, this guy's accent made Boomhauer on King of the Hill sound like a BBC News Reader. It was so thick that I only understood every third or fourth word as he told us how to get from this exit to Tuscaloosa. The directions involved at least 5 turns. All I was sure about was that his last sentence was something like, "Bownn mdown gwinna Follow yup." I was too nervous to insist he clarify himself because as I said, we were not sober. Plus, R. was driving and we were happy to take our time and make it back eventually.

It was dark 30 when we exited and the twilight was fading fast. We had no map. All we were sure about was that Tuscaloosa lay 25 miles west of where we were so we headed into the sunset figuring that football was so big here that all roads in Tuscaloosa County must surely eventually lead to the stadium, right? Besides, we were never much worried about getting a little lost.
About 15 minutes into our "figure it will all make sense eventually" driving I look back and realize that there are cars behind us on this two lane country road as far as the eye can see. This is not usual this far out in the county. I begin to review State Trooper Boomhauer's last sentence:..."follow"... and ask R. if he thinks they are following us. He scans the rearview and says, "I hope the fuck not."
10 minutes later a few cars turn off behind us at a road that we discounted since it went North and we still clearly had highway going West, which was our destination. The majority of cars did not follow them. The majority of cars follow us. I am freaking out at this point. I do not want to be the leader when I'm not at all sure where I am going. R. Is being stoic "Well, if they're dumb enough to follow us that's their problem."

We decide to pull over at the next gas station and get them off our tail just in case. Good plan, Right?

Unfortunately, gas stations are not plentiful in the hinterland between Birmingham and Tuscaloosa. Five minutes later we have still not passed one and in the darkness at a rise in the road I glance back and see the headlights of a mile or so of cars trailing off into the distance behind us just as I feel the road change sharply to gravel. I whirl around to see that the nice highway has suddenly become a driveway. A driveway into a trailer park. A very poor trailer park.

As the residents pour out of their single wide trailers I realize it is a black trailer park. There is a barefoot man with a gun. Women in curlers. Babies crying. We have come to a dead stop and the dust swirls in our headlights as the people run around trying to figure out why a whole bunch of cars are suddenly dead stopped in their quiet little trailer park.

I lean out the window and say, "Sorry. Got lost." R. pushes the door locks. We drive on carefully through the park. Let someone else explain to the residents exactly what happened. People are leaning out of their cars and screaming at us as we follow the u of the driveway through the trailer park and drive the drive of shame out of there. Past the mile of pissed off cars, many of whom do bother to roll down their window to proffer their disdain in a manner which did not need words.
Yeah. It was so awful and so funny at the same time. I imagine those people screaming about us all the way home. Somewhere there is a couple and one uses "that trailer park incident" in fights to remind the other to not follow people blindly. Me, I just keep a GPS and a Delorme's atlass in my car at all times- and I'd never blindly follow that fool in front of me because I know she doesn't know where she's going.

Monday, May 02, 2005

Tit for tat...

Tit for tat story one:

My Great-Grandfather, a man about town and Washington Politician/Dam builder, was once at a party back in the '30s or '40s. A woman was angry at something he had done and came up to him and said, "Well R______ M_______ I'll give you tit for tat." To which he promptly replied "Tat."

Second Tit-for-tat story:
I received my Alabama Lawyer in the mail this morning. I did what every lawyer I know does: I flipped to the back and began reading the "Lawyer suspensions and disbarments" section. There are a few things I have learned from this practice including the number one rule: Always respond in a timely fashion to a letter from the State Bar. Today I found a particularly good case, which couldn't have been saved by timely responding, but rather by cardinal life rule 1-- ALWAYS LEAVE THEM SMILING (especially when they know about skeletons in your closet):

(Attorney X) has been suspended for a period of 15 months beginning January 7, 2005 for violating rules 8.4 (d) (engage in conduct that is prejudicial to the administration of justice) and 8.4 (g) (engage in any other conduct that adversely reflects on his fitness to practice law.) of the Alabama Rules of Professional Conduct. X represented a female client in an assault case. The agreed upon Fee was $2,300. X entered into an arrangement whereby he would credit the client $200.00 towards this fee if she would engage in sex with him and $400.00 towards the fee if she could find another person to engage in sex with him. THIS WAS CORROBORATED BY VIDEOTAPE. (This is my condensed version. )
VIDEOTAPE? duh. You're a lawyer dude. Duh. Just freakin' duh. (BTW, the spell check suggested foreskin instead of freakin'...hehehehe)

Secondly, how do you start this conversation? I guess if she was a stripper, you know, it wouldn't be that hard, but... "ahh, You don't have enough for my fee? I have some ideas...."

And how did the Bar find out unless he pissed someone off or bragged?

Ok, I'm off to Court....

Name of the week...

A friend of mine sent me a name that is worthy of being the name of the week:

He has a friend named Holly. Her last name is Cost. Recently he wrote her full name and made a startling realization: Holly Cost. Say it five times fast.


Sorry its been a week without a good mullett story, but I'm working on it. Should have had pics up this weekend, but it was too pretty to stay inside. Today I have Court with the drug addict whose husband didn't bother to try to get custody of the child until she asked for more money for Child Support...That's one of those "Loose -Loose" situations....