Observation made in a bar.
Apparently me applying lip balm is lascivious. I did not intend it so. No, drunk horny cripple, I'm not into you, I'm slightly deathly ill at the moment, that is all.
I couldn't find my phone for some six hours yesterday. I tried to go see my roommate at his bartending gig before I went to class, but the bar's right on the parade route. I pulled out my phone at a red light to check the time, and decided there wasn't enough time to muscle my way into parking near the bar, have a drink and socialize a little, and get to class on time, so I just went straight to school to work on some stuff. And that phone vanished.
After my classes I was running around with a friend for a little bit. She called the vanished phone, which naturally was on vibrate, but we could hear the buzzing somewhere in the car. We tried finding that fucker on three separate occasions over the course of a few hours. Meanwhile, out of curiosity I reassembled the remains of the phone that I had accidentally drowned and took to be a goner back in December. It charged, and while it tries to turn itself off a lot, it is functional for making a short call at least. After my friend had to go to night class I used that phone to keep calling the vanished one, and finally located it: holed up in a corner under the passenger seat, face down.
I did see the bars for a bit yesterday afternoon and evening, but I had like three beers the entire time. I have a cold and it's really decided to take up residence in my throat. Yesterday I sounded a lot like the bitchy blonde chick in My Name is Earl and by the end of the evening it felt like someone had fed a portion of sandpaper through my esophagus; I went to bed early. Today's not too bad, although I do sound like Marge Simpson's poor dried-up old mum. I should actually be in Spanish right now, but I'm not sure how well I'd perform in a class that depends a lot on talking, so I emailed the professor explaining that I'm having difficulty speaking right now.
And I went to court on Tuesday. The security lady wanted to be a bitch to me because I had food in my backpack (an apple), but the dude I took to be her supervisor heard me say I had class right after court, looks young enough that he might be or might recently have been a college student himself, and pulled rank on her (Hah!). Each courtroom has a t.v. screen outside it showing the names and times of different hearings, so I gotta make court t.v. (yes!).
So they read off people's names, and we were supposed to answer with Guilty, Not Guilty, No Contest, or Continuance. Except they never called my name. Once they were through, the bailiff lady (I guess that's what she was?) asked that the people whose names weren't called or their attorneys please come to the front of the room. I showed her my ticket, she asked if I had proof. Of insurance, she meant, and pointed me over to the stenographer (I think) lady. She looks at the ticket, looks at my proof of insurance, scribbles a lot on the ticket, tells me that I'm good to go.
I told her I was fined almost $300 for a wrong turn, that's what I came to court that day to contest. It's not in their records. She told me if I'd like, I could go downstairs to Information to double check.
Evidently, from what I know at the moment (I'm calling back next week after that change with the proof of insurance has gone through their system), the moving violation and the proof of insurance were a twin ticket; taking care of the one issue seems to have eradicated the fine on the other, or something. At any rate, I walked out of court that morning feeling highly confused, but optimistic. Falling through the cracks, ya'll.
I couldn't find my phone for some six hours yesterday. I tried to go see my roommate at his bartending gig before I went to class, but the bar's right on the parade route. I pulled out my phone at a red light to check the time, and decided there wasn't enough time to muscle my way into parking near the bar, have a drink and socialize a little, and get to class on time, so I just went straight to school to work on some stuff. And that phone vanished.
After my classes I was running around with a friend for a little bit. She called the vanished phone, which naturally was on vibrate, but we could hear the buzzing somewhere in the car. We tried finding that fucker on three separate occasions over the course of a few hours. Meanwhile, out of curiosity I reassembled the remains of the phone that I had accidentally drowned and took to be a goner back in December. It charged, and while it tries to turn itself off a lot, it is functional for making a short call at least. After my friend had to go to night class I used that phone to keep calling the vanished one, and finally located it: holed up in a corner under the passenger seat, face down.
I did see the bars for a bit yesterday afternoon and evening, but I had like three beers the entire time. I have a cold and it's really decided to take up residence in my throat. Yesterday I sounded a lot like the bitchy blonde chick in My Name is Earl and by the end of the evening it felt like someone had fed a portion of sandpaper through my esophagus; I went to bed early. Today's not too bad, although I do sound like Marge Simpson's poor dried-up old mum. I should actually be in Spanish right now, but I'm not sure how well I'd perform in a class that depends a lot on talking, so I emailed the professor explaining that I'm having difficulty speaking right now.
And I went to court on Tuesday. The security lady wanted to be a bitch to me because I had food in my backpack (an apple), but the dude I took to be her supervisor heard me say I had class right after court, looks young enough that he might be or might recently have been a college student himself, and pulled rank on her (Hah!). Each courtroom has a t.v. screen outside it showing the names and times of different hearings, so I gotta make court t.v. (yes!).
So they read off people's names, and we were supposed to answer with Guilty, Not Guilty, No Contest, or Continuance. Except they never called my name. Once they were through, the bailiff lady (I guess that's what she was?) asked that the people whose names weren't called or their attorneys please come to the front of the room. I showed her my ticket, she asked if I had proof. Of insurance, she meant, and pointed me over to the stenographer (I think) lady. She looks at the ticket, looks at my proof of insurance, scribbles a lot on the ticket, tells me that I'm good to go.
I told her I was fined almost $300 for a wrong turn, that's what I came to court that day to contest. It's not in their records. She told me if I'd like, I could go downstairs to Information to double check.
Evidently, from what I know at the moment (I'm calling back next week after that change with the proof of insurance has gone through their system), the moving violation and the proof of insurance were a twin ticket; taking care of the one issue seems to have eradicated the fine on the other, or something. At any rate, I walked out of court that morning feeling highly confused, but optimistic. Falling through the cracks, ya'll.