Category Archives: Confessions

realizations I probably should have come to a very, very long time ago

Valentine’s Day And Other Unfortunate Realities

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Lately, I’ve noticed a lot of visitors, dodging the landmines and trekking over mountainous terrains to stop over at my humble, but well decorated corner of the Internets and rest their weary souls. So before I blindside you with what I have to say, which by all accounts will probably alter the course of your life and so we better hurry up, I would like to give all the newbies a big, Blunt welcome with open arms.

But I hope that didn’t just make you think of the popular eighties love ballad by Journey.

Because I sort of dislike that band.  But not as much as I dislike hate Chicago.

But I do like that song ‘Don’t Stop Believing.’

But not just cus it’s on the popular Fox musical Glee.

Cus I don’t like Glee. But I do like that Jane Lynch.

And I like you. So why don’t you just stop worrying about what I do and don’t like, mmmk?

Actually, I can’t say I don’t like Glee. I’m just assuming I don’t. Never mind the fact that I just listened to the YouTube Glee Mix about a hundred times.

Speaking of Valentine’s Day, did you honestly think  just because I’m in a relationship that I would start liking this dreadful day?? I’ll bet you one aluminum wrapped red rose that you did. Ugh. Well, I was part of a video series that the College Crush and College Candy did called: Kick Ass Valentine’s Day… no date needed. You could imagine my enthusiasm at the chance to make fun of a holiday that is supposed to celebrate love, but really just exists in commemoration of the execution of Patron Saint Valentine.

I have included the original version, without the intro they added, in case you hate Valentine’s Day too (which I expect you do) and wanted to watch it. [DISCLAIMER: Guys, this video might make fun of you a lot. This is not an apology, just a disclaimer]

So, I want to know…. how will you be celebrating the horrendous holiday that is creeping in on us like that weird kid in 8th grade biology?

Cus I won’t ever stop believin,’

Blunt


If This Blog Was A Buffet, Would You Like It More?

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Precisely.

Which is why Blunt Delivery will soon become the Golden Corral of blogs.

See? And you thought there was no possible way I could tie in such a random title to this blog post. How long do we have to be on this journey together before you will stop underestimating my masterful literary skills?

Hurtful.

Much to my own dismay, I have an endless supply of long-winded, sarcastically-laced stories about my sordid past for your reading pleasure. But sometimes. Sometimes, my phalanges get just a little bit… tired.

I’m sure my next sentence will come as the shock of your adult life, but, it has never been my goal to post everyday. Why? I feel like even the best of writers don’t have something worthwhile to say to the world on a daily basis. On top of that, I don’t even fit in the “best of writers” category. Jay Leno’s writers can’t even come up with something quasi-entertaining and they actually get paid to do it. Well, mama isn’t getting paid, kids- except for the knowledge that I’m revolutionizing lives one blog at a time, and I guess for a self-sacrificial type like myself, that’s all the payment I need. Now give me a moment whilst I yank myself from the tree I’m bear-hugging, snatch up a piece of random litter and gather my thoughts.

Puke.

Another reason why I don’t post daily is because I have never, ever forced myself to write a blog. What does this mean for you, my reader with unparalleled beauty? Well, it means that you don’t have to hear about my dog’s potty training troubles or the fact that my child is so darn cute when he leaves an “R” out of word.

But Blunt, I thought you didn’t have kids and you hated dogs?

Wait, who are you and how did you manage to hijack this blog?

The point is, I only write when I have a thought so utterly preposterous that my hands go on auto pilot and I can’t stop but only for a cupcake. Or two. And although many of you yell at me for my lack of posting, I think if you’re honest with yourself, you’ve grown to appreciate that about me. And if you’re not being honest with yourself, then you need to lose the spandex and cut the crap already. It’s not working for you.

THE POINT IS sometimes I AM tired, yet I still have something that I would like to say. Thus, I am creating a new category called: Blunt Bites. Unfortunately, this has nothing to do with Vampires. Or brownie bites.

But gosh, I wish it did.

Blunt Bites will break the format of my usual, quasi-lengthy,  jaw-dropping, laugh-out-loud posts (right?), and sum up a significant part of my life in a mere paragraph or two. It will be like a snapshot of sorts. And I don’t even know if I’m up to the challenge.

You lucky ducks.

Or maybe all of that was just a lie and I’m merely using this as a selfish writing exercise on how to condense stories.

I trust you will will find the answer deep within yourself.

The following is a “sample” of what a Blunt Bite will be. They might be sarcastic. They might be funny. They might be tragic. But, they will all be honest.

You said it all felt like high school again – that somehow, being together made you forget that you were an adult with responsibilities and problems and broken dreams. For me, it was an escape, a mere a moment of blind optimism; in that sense I guess I can see what you meant about high school. One day at the gas station, you were down to your last two dollars and so you told me to pick out a lottery ticket. You said, “Choose wisely – this is going to pay for our summer home out east.” I chose a pink one.

It was the wrong choice. And so were you.

Mmm. Now that’s something to munch on.

The Grinch Who Stole Blunt’s Christmas [And A Foxy Giveaway]

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Last year, I was robbed of my Christmas joy. I’m still in hot pursuit of the culprit, but the Grinch is definitely on my short list.

For the first time in history, I refused to put up a tree. Suffering from an almost paralyzing depression, those around me grew quite worrisome. My mother, who wouldn’t have any of it, started sending me daily cheer-up Christmas cards in the mail. Daily. Then, whenever she would “stop by,” she would sneak a mini pre-decorated Christmas tree into a different room of my house.

In January, I wrote a nasty goodbye letter to 2009, but ended it with cheerful optimism. Little did I know, however, that 2010 would present some of the biggest challenges of my life. Not, like, hiking up a mountain, challenging – a whole different kind of challenging. Cus really, would I ever be caught hiking?

I’ll forever remember 2010 as the year that everything sucked until it became awesome. I’m pleased that at least my life-changing year is a nice, round number – it plays into my ‘Monica from Friends syndrome’ quite nicely. It was a painful year of self-reflection brought on by the culmination of a lot of ongoing poor decisions. I don’t need to list the events for you, but I went into a little detail about some them in this blog. Over the year, many of my posts have been introspective in nature, about broken hearts and broken dreams and passion and valedictorian speeches. Cus I fricken love valedictorian speeches.

So how did the year finally become awesome? And no, it’s not because I had a great revelation as I was laying on a table a month ago, waiting to find out whether or not I might have breast cancer. But I was really, really cold if that counts. It took a lot more than that. This is the year that I finally broke the cycle of the miserable existence I’ve been living – the cycle of beating myself up over poor decisions I can’t change, people who will never change, and analyzing things until I am so lost in my past regrets that I have forgotten how to live in the present.

That’s what.

[click here for the rest of my blustery, Midwesterny pictures]

And as many times as someone told me: “can’t change the past, move on”  – it didn’t matter. As many times as I told myself that I hadn’t messed up my life beyond repair – it didn’t matter, cus I didn’t believe it. Life will always be a punk, but half of the battle is your outlook and response to it. As a natural-born pessimist, the cycles in my life have been beyond hard to break. I had to do some serious work on my attitude and perspective towards life. For the first time in, well, forever, I actually feel good when I wake up in the morning. I’m excited about life. And, most importantly, I no longer look at the past decade as a total waste of time and energy. It taught me a great deal and made me into a stronger person than I ever realized.

How’s that for warm and fuzzy?

Are you freaked out yet?

Have you totally hit the unsubscribe button?

Would it smooth things over if I gave stuff away?

Stuff I’m giving away to you: [I made this big and bold to make it easier for you to skip over everything else]

Since I was a child, I have wanted to open a greeting card company. Not cus I’m great at illustrations, cus I’m not. And not cus I have the hook-up with a manufacturer, cus I don’t. And not cus I was born with a natural ability to come up with clever sayings, cus I wasn’t. But because ALL OF THEM SUCK.

Guess what? I found some that don’t suck.The company is called Foxy Blunt. Could this BE more of an arranged marriage? These cards make me want to purchase stamps again, know what I mean?

So, I am giving away a boxed set of Foxy Blunt cards of your choosing plus some cool other stuff the girls are going to throw in. I might suggest the Friendship/Love set, or the Birthday set, or the Holiday set. But what I really, REALLY love is the Thank You set and the Thinking of You set.

I trust you will make the right decision.

WAIT! Hold the mistletoe!

Don’t for one second think that I’ve forgotten about my first love, Bitter Baking Company – because I could never do such a thing. In fact, we might have to enter a three-way love affair with Foxy Blunt. You will also receive a batch of my absolute favorite sarcastic holiday cookies!

HOW TO ENTER: leave a comment telling me one positive thing that happened to you this year. Contest is open until Saturday, Dec. 18th at noon.

UPDATE: Winner of this contest is J from TwentySomethings!

I’m Offended For Two Reasons

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1. That half of you didn’t even notice I posted a Thanksgiving Giveaway until it was too late to enter. This makes me feel like you’re under some sort of assumption that it’s not worth bothering to check my blog cus I only post like twice a month or something? Pray tell, how and why has your perception become so skewed? This is the problem with liberal media!!

Let this be a lesson to you.

Luckily, Karaoke Activity Partner has not yet been brainwashed to believe such lies. She checked my blog like a good little robot and scored some sweet action Thanksgiving cookies from The Bitter Baking Company.

BUT, because this is the season of giving. And because you’re all so awesome when you’re not making me want to pull my hair out by the roots. And because my blog is considering having a love child with Bitter Baking Company, Blunt Delivery will be doing four more giveaways before Christmas! And not just of cookies, but other Blunt-worthy items that I’ve scouted the fruited plains for as well.

2. ‘Black’ Friday. Really? Even now with Obama and everything? [BTW: my spellchecker just suggested I replace Obama with Alabama]

Speaking of Black Friday… if you were anywhere, doing anything, at 3 am I think you should reconsider your life goals. Perhaps take a Carnival cruise. Move some furniture around. Get some bangs. Something.

My Black Friday Wrap Up= 23 stores. No snacks. No bathroom breaks. Home by 6. Add a spandex jumpsuit and some Air Jordan’s and Black Friday would have been shaking in it’s half-priced winter boots. VICTORIOUS!

Insignificant detail: Had one solitary item on my list and returned home without it.

Whatever.

When I pulled up to my house, confusion struck me. What is this box on my doorstep? I am not expecting anything. A bomb? A puppy? 1-800-FLOWERS? Cus those are all things that I don’t really want. I thought we were over Anthrax scares? What could it BE?!  Did I somehow check ‘afternoon delivery’ on my online purchases this morning?!  No. It cannot be. There is no such thing.

And then I glanced at the return address label and saw that it was my very own batch of cookies from Bitter Baking Company.

It’s was a Black Friday MIRACLE! There I was, starving, exhausted, and broke, and I arrive home to find dinner waiting on my doorstep!

See guys, there is a moral to be extracted from this story. A soul pancake to be eaten. This just goes to prove that you can buy all the stuff in the world and still come home to find yourself starving, depressed, broke and alone. That is, until you discover cookies on your doorstep. Just remember this holiday season that it isn’t stuff that will make you happy.

It’s cookies.

It was my version of achieving World Peace.

And We Didn’t Even Go On A First Date

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I just feel like it all moved a bit fast.

There I was, shirtless. And we hadn’t even bantered about our favorite foods. I didn’t even know his middle name. He had no clue of my sorted past with inappropriate men or that I have a constant desire to buy unnecessary office supplies. I didn’t even have the chance to make up some terribly impressive story about how I quit my job to work with Tsunami victims or feed children in Ethiopia.

In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but be filled with doubts that this just wouldn’t turn out right.

But I was wrong.

For the second time I can vividly remember, I was terribly mistaken.

The breast biopsy results were negative.

All the juicy details to follow on the video blog. Why? Because I’m suspecting my only other competition is Wheel of Fortune, Jersey Shore, or one of about 800 shows that chronicle the life of a young law enforcement agent working on the streets of LA who quits his job every other week because he never anticipated how rough it would really be.

If you so much as even consider choosing Jersey Shore over me, we’re through.

On a serious note, I would like to give a big Blunt thank you to all of the people who emailed me and talked me off the ledge during the past month. Specifically, my new girlfriend Vodka and Ground Beef, and my Colorado other half, Twenty Somethings. It’s amazing how much you can relate to people you’ve never actually met. I’d say it’s the main, if only reason, I keep this old blog going.

So between the biopsy, the financial issues, a family crisis, relationship stuff, a bff having a baby – I apologize for my absence. I’ll be getting over to your blogs this week and thanks for sticking around… MUAH!

I’ll be back in a couple days with some introspective Thanksgiving-ish post!

My Blog Is A Racist And Frankly, I’m Disgusted

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[Remember when I told you to check out my Blogboyfriend’s interview of me last Saturday but then it wasn’t there? Yeaaaa, well that’s cus he just posted it. Everything you’ve ever wanted to know about me but were afraid to ask – right here.]

There comes a point in all of our lives where each of us has to take a cold, hard look at our blogs. We need to step back and analyze if they are, in fact,  the blogs that they painted themselves out to be in the honeymoon phase.

This is a sad day, friends.

I never could have saw this coming. Of course, it’s better to have found out now than five years down the road when my blog and I have a book deal and my entire extended family has purchased a wardrobe of white, draw-string pants and relocated to Bermuda to live off the ad revenues.

How did I discover this betrayal?

Considering I’m a private person, I normally wouldn’t expose the painful details. But if it can spare even one of you from going through this heartache, it is worth every tearful stroke of the pearly plastics.

Last Friday, it was 3 am, and I felt lone-ly-y. Ugh. Sorry, I hate when Rob Thomas gets all desperate for attention and hacks into my posts – I’m SO over needy guys whose musical careers peaked mid-nineties. So I was sorting through my posts, and obviously Blunt Delivery’s model of choice is the naked Barbie – cus nothing else seems to make sense in this life. As I was scrolling through the archives, I came across many pictures that you may remember.

Blunt Delivery’s first birthday:

Photo shoot with my mom’s chocolate chip cookies:

It was a laughter-filled trip down virtual memory lane, and then my heart started racing. All the sudden I got that all too familiar feeling in my throat like Wendys’ skilled sandwich makers had given me the wrong Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger and I’d accidentally ingested mayonnaise, and I couldn’t swallow, you know? I was sweating like my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend after I emailed him a screen shot of his Match.com profile. BUSTED.

Every single photo in the archives was of a blond-haired, blue-eyed, Caucasian Barbie.

Excuse me while I puke. How could it be that this entire time my blog has been a white supremacist and I was none the wiser? I’ve always prided myself on my ability to detect social injustices, and although this happened on my watch, I want you to know that I am taking active steps to remedy this situation. The excuses have come pouring in, but I will hear none of it. Don’t try to tell me that there isn’t much of a selection in the Salvation Army nekkid Barbie bin. Don’t act like you got laid off from the bank and couldn’t justify superfluous, brand-new Barbie purchases.

I am a brick wall.

This blog is turning a new leaf and if I have to beat it over the head with an equality stick, that’s what I’m prepared to do. The first step to recovery was to make everyone come in on Saturday at 6:00 am for an Embracing Diversity class. Then, I held a photo shoot to create new category buttons for the sidebar. You’ll notice, I’ve introduced some brunettes and a white trashy whore (for balance) along with two interracial couples. And don’t even think I don’t have an Asian goddess and a South African princess preparing for their closeups.

From now on, this blog will paint with all the colors of the wind.

Remember When You Hated Me, But You Were Lying To Yourself?

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“Out beyond the ideas of rightdoing and wrongdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there.” – Rumi

So, okay. We’re in the field, you and me. Now, I want you to take a moment. Sit down. Relax. Close your eyes. Clear your mind and try not to ponder the great mysteries of the world such as: “why, WHY can’t Rose just SHARE THE RAFT?” or “why did ever we need encased meats?” Just let it go. And please remember, in the field, there is no right or wrong. We cannot recall the mistakes of others. There are cupcakes falling from the sky along with pink glittery things. We are full of inner love and positive thinking.

Okay, you are now free to leave the field.

I just thought that exercise might help us in curbing any misdirected anger you might have toward me lately for my lack of internet presence. I realize it seems like I don’t do anything around here, but kiddos, mama has been sweatin’ like a Mexican housekeeper. I can say that. I went to school with a girl who was Mexican.

So what have I been up to, you ask?

Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve spruced up the place. My blog layout was SO last year. Now you may think to yourself, eh, a simple blog redesign no. big. deal. But guess what, when you’ve been hacked and your crap is all jacked, and your database needs to be updated, and your feeds won’t work, and your hosting provider doesn’t speak English, and you hate dealing with website stuff more than you hate cheerful people before 10 am, and then when you finally do switch over to your new design none of your pictures transfer over – it is A BIG EFFING DEAL. Needless to say, the homepage posts are fixed, but I’ve got about 200 more to re-upload pics to. So if you look at older posts they might look weird FYI. Good thing none of you ever do.

Oh, I also transferred my blogroll to a new page called For The Wandering Eye, and I even wrote little love notes about your blogs (if I’ve forgotten you, please send a strongly worded email). And I’ve revamped my About and New Here pages with fun new pictures like this:

And remember how I’ve had my photography blog up for like a year but no actual website, cus I really like to eat pasta and sleep alot?? Yea, well, the Indigo Photography website is officially launched!

Wait, I know there was something else…. Oh that’s right! I am going on the world’s first BlogDate.

What is a BlogDate? Well, it’s when two people of similar backgrounds and personalities start innocently flirting over blog comments and then realize they’re soulmates except they’ve never met. Or, it’s two people who are just spontaneous and ridiculous and like to have fun. Jury’s still out. So Monday I head to the Windy City where my witty and handsome New York Blogboyfriend will be awaiting me. He did a little preview of our meeting on his blog also, if you wanna check yourself before you wreck yourself. And don’t you worry, I’m going to blow THE INTERNETS up with pictures and stories from this experience! And yes, I’ll be paying you all a long-overdue visit very soon!

There. That’s what I’ve been up to. Are you satisfied now or are you still gonna cop a ‘tude?

P. to the S. I must take this moment to send the biggest shout out of my LIFE to Jen and Cheryl from CaffeinatedDesigns. These girls are geniuses. I was pulling my ever-loving hair out and they found a way to sort out every computer problem I had – and I only needed two boxes of wine to get through it!

Follow me on FaceSpace or Twitter to keep updated!

Dear Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred Workout DVD,

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Two weeks ago, you entered my home with all of the optimism of Christmas morning.

But lately, I feel like we’re at odds. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but the other night your eyes looked a bit more angry than normal. And I sensed a hinge of animosity in your voice as I was doing my side lunges (with weights, of course, cus the big muscles don’t burn enough calories on their own).

Oh, I’ve been listening.

And I know if I asked you, you would say nothing is wrong. But do to my extensive experience with complicated relationships, I think we both know that’s not the case. So in attempt to salvage what we have left, I feel the need to explain to you what might seem like a lack of commitment on my part.

jillian-michaels-30-day-shredDAY 1: Jo and I did the workout, sans weights. We fell to the floor laughing when you said, “People tell you ‘Just take the stairs’ but that is a FALSE MESSAGE OF LETHARGY that won’t do you any favors!” We then had a glass of wine, watched Grey’s Anatomy and talked about how we wanted to die.

DAY 2: Jo and I did the workout. I used the weights except I only had 5 lb ones instead of the recommended 2 lb ones. We made fun of your eyebrows a little bit.

DAYS 3-5: I lost the ability to use my arms. So did Jo, which confused both of us, considering she didn’t use weights. We decided it best to take a few days off, as not to cause further injury. We’re still waiting on our health insurance from Obama.

DAY 6: Jo and I regained feeling in our arms, so we worked out. She walked in with 2 cans of baked beans in lieu of weights. I marveled at her genius, and found 2 cans of my own to use, however, they were re-fried beans. All was well, except for the fact that I forgot to wear a sports bra.

DAYS 7-9: Due to some intense crying, I figured it best not to workout in such a dehydrated state. Jo figured it best to empathize with me on the couch. She’s a good friend.

DAY 10: My head was still aching, but Jo was determined to workout. I sat on the couch with my laptop. Then, I grabbed a box of Snickers ice cream from the freezer and just watched her, cus man, it was funny. Afterward, when Jo got up to go to the bathroom, her legs gave out on her and she did a face plant into my floor. She said, and I quote: “That’s how you know the workout is working.”

DAYS 11-14: Thought about working out. A lot. But it’s the holidays, so our absence is 100% LEGIT.

I hope this clears things up as I do hope to maintain at the very least, a friendship.

XOXO,

Blunt.

P.S. New blog design coming this week, plus a bunch of other random announcements that you won’t care about!!

The September Of My Years [OR] Screw You January

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[Warning: introspection ahead. So, maybe there are a few things I’ve failed to mention over the past year. So, maybe I’m mentioning them now.]

Seriously, screw January. And all of its dreary, pretend optimism.

Here’s the deal: New Years happens in January is because it gives people a shred of hope amid what seems to be an eternal, bleak panorama of frozen tundra and dead things. Or at least that’s the consensus from behind my Midwestern ice-glazed window and $200 gas bill.

Well guess what world? I don’t buy it, and I refuse to accept New Years as my fresh start.

It’s all about September.

Everything good happens in the fall, thus, I’ve decided so should my clean slate. And no, I’m not trying to get a head start on all of your fresh starts. When people begin losing in Monopoly, I conveniently forget to collect their rent cus I feel bad for them. So I assure you, I lack the competitive edge to one-up you on your new beginnings.

When I think back on this past year, I sort of want to curl up in a fetal position. But then, I remember I did a lot of that already…  plus I’m not as flexible as I used to be. A couple months ago, I came to the point where I felt like I had nothing of worth, no direction, and I had screwed up my life beyond repair. Know what I mean?

Since this blog contains only 20% of what happens in my life, you may not know it has been a very pivotal year. I bet you’re thinking that now is when I’m going to start listing off the things that made it so pivotal. In truth, I was about to warm up some spaghetti, but I guess I could take one for the team.

Pivotal moments this year:

I broke off my engagement to the man I thought I would marry the instant he shook my hand. My best friend Kenny moved to California. I went through an almost clinical level depression. My family experienced great challenges. Financial stress, career changes. I caused tremendous hurt to some pretty incredible people. I took some risks that did not pay off. I’ve been paralyzed by Regret.

And Regret, coupled with its slightly better-looking twin sister, Guilt, can ruin your life. It’s like a ghost that lays dormant for years, and then all the sudden goes all ape-shit crazy. So how do you get past it? How do you recover?

First step: I took the summer off of dating to sort myself out.

P.S. Boys, sorry but you do not = drama-free.

Second step: self-reflection. That = no fun. I needed perspective. I cried until my eyes didn’t resemble themselves, wrote some letters, started a collection of over-the-counter sleeping pills, sought a lot of advice, freaked out, emptied several boxes of wine, forgave others, learned to forgive myself, started working with elderly people, started working out, cut off toxic people, went to see Eat Pray Love by myself (sad or awesome?), and spent many lonely nights thinking about my life, my past, and what I really wanted.

Cus if you haven’t got peace of mind, you’ve got nothing.

So, at the start of a new season, what have I got?

Hope. This has been a painful year of growth, arriving with the crappiest of timing. I am happy it is done and I move on with a better knowledge of myself, what I want, and who I want. Belief. I have never doubted the existence of a higher power; but, for a very long time I have ignored what that means for my life. That time has ended. Also, as shocking as it may be, I now believe that two people can exist happily together. Yes, for life. Friends. I have the kind of friends who drive an hour to my house to bring me a Kleenex. Friends who extend their hand in kindness, even after I’ve hurt them. Friends who exist only through written words, yet seem to get me completely. Friends who stay over, just in case. Oh, and Kenny moved back. Work. I have a job, which fell from the sky on a snowy day in January, that allows me to be creative and impact people’s lives. I guess I owe January a high-five for that. Family. When it comes to them, words aren’t good enough. Health. Or so I assume. I have been avoiding doctors for a few years now and aside from the mysterious lump on my rib, the locking hip, and the pain in my chest when I lay down, I feel great! And, finally, Peace. I’ve accepted that life cannot exist without regret.

So, that’s what I’ve got. And world, it’s pretty freaking fabulous.

Cheers to the 800th season of Grey’s Anatomy, falling in love, wearing scarves, figuring shit out, and most importantly – a New Year,

Blunt.

There Is No Greater Pleasure In Life – Except There Is

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I’m currently sitting in a room of the criminal justice center, surrounded by a group of my fellow unbiased peers.

I assure you, none of them have formed any prejudices in the course of their lives and they possess the ability, as do I, to hold someone’s fate in their completely non-judgmental hands.

Of course, I’m the first one of 45 to be called to the jury box.

Did it not even matter that I checked the box saying I knew a judge, and an attorney, and a law enforcement official, and have been the victim of a crime?

Well, what in Sam’s hill is the point the boxes then?

To waste my TIME?

Maybe there should have been a box for “almost married the State’s Attorney’s nephew.”

Then I wouldn’t be in this mess.

And at least something good would have come out of that relationship.

And, of course, it’s 2:15 and they have yet to give us our promised lunch break.

Which wouldn’t be such of a big, hairy deal had I not decided that showering and eating was not nearly as important as an extra ten minutes of sleep.

No, you’re right, I couldn’t possibly have eaten and showered in ten minutes anyway. The dice was loaded from the start.

And, of course, I tripped over my dress pants in front of the entire courtroom, on the way to the jury box.

Would it KILL this town to have a decent seamstress?

I can only hope, in the event I flip out and do something so incredibly dumb someday, that I am lucky enough as to be offered this same level of justice. I also assure you that all of us are completely happy to be here serving our civic duty with nothing in exchange except the joy of knowing justice was served in the quickest way possible, so we could all get back to texting in the car.

Now I’d like my $13.00 please so I can go put a down payment on the parking ticket I just received so I wouldn’t have to walk two miles to the courthouse.

Truly honored,

Blunt. (insert one of those stupid heart shaped thingys that I don’t know how to do and never will)