Indecisive Peach

After a couple of slips of the mind, I ended up in municipal court for the first time this morning, trying to dismiss a ticket for having expired plates. [I’m such a dirty, dirty criminal.] In doing so, I got to be with people that I normally don’t have exposure to. [But methinks with two or three drinks in me, I really should.]

At 7:30 in the morning a line of people stretched out from the door of the court, which would open at eight, lazily wrapped itself around the ramp, and stretched out a bit further down the street. I took my spot in the queue.

There was this strange sense of camaraderie through the line; the Man was getting us all down. We were all in the same boat. Floating questions with the same hum of, “What are you in for?” ate up time. After some chatting, two men a couple people behind me discovered that the same cop gave them a ticket for the same thing on the same day. The overweight man with the stubble and the John Deere hat proclaimed to the hapless 20-something prep, “This gotsa to be a conspiracy. Dontcha think?”

[Also witnessed, an honest-to-goodness arrest. With handcuffs! A young Latina, a moment away from fake tears, muttered to her mother that it wasn’t her, while the weather-burnt mother cocked her head and denied paying her bail. Nice.]

I think whatever vibe of gallant criminal camaraderie and its ensuing thoughts and behaviors caught up with me as I sat in the previews for the movie 1408. Bear with me, here’s a conspiracy theory.

Read the rest of this entry »

It’s a sign that you need to get your lazy ass back in gear, and clock back into work from lunch, when the stray January 2006 copy of Good Housekeeping has the next page, a riveting tale of horror and survival on the London bombings, torn out of it.

[This has been an example of the linguistic principle of recursion. You’re welcome.]

Nearly five minutes ahead of schedule before leaving for work, I gather my thoughts.
Wallet, check.
Keys, check.
Lunch, yes.
Phone. Phone… Phone?

I walk into my room slowly, puzzled. I glance at the spot on top of my three foot lava lamp which serves as my phone holder, the charging cord lies at the base. No phone. I scan the room and my eyes trail over my landline phone. Naturally, I could call my cell. Then I remember that I may just have turned my phone to vibrate or beep once. Dammit.

Read the rest of this entry »

While the British upper crust has to deal with the tedium of picking the correct hat to wear to a horse derby, their youngin’s have something that desperately needs to catch on with the slightly, and more so, well to-do (or well-connected) young folks in this country: The Gap Year.

Read the rest of this entry »

If there is such a thing as a Yo-Yo diet, does something like a Yo-Yo boyfriend exist? I continued on that path of thought, when I realized that a seesaw is a better metaphor.

Read the rest of this entry »

I’ve started to realize that I love soft shirts. I don’t care if they’re pink or oversized or undersized, I like soft shirts. A while back I ran across a half off of the Clearance rack on Hot Topic. (I know. I do know.) Rummaging through I found a marvelously soft long black tank top, on the front, in red script was, “I dig pale, scrawny guys.” I chuckled since this is a pretty accurate statement, and since it was three dollars, I took it with me.

I hadn’t really worn it except for around the house. When I was at my parents’, my Mom folded it after washing it and asked me, “What does scrawny mean?”
“Skinny, no muscles.”
Her brow twitches and she says, “This… is true.”

Read the rest of this entry »