Must adjust attitude

I have jury duty tomorrow. Exactly two years and two weeks since I LAST had jury duty. Work has many time sensitive things going on, with a coworker out, and it's just gonna be crunchy. So, I've been bitching to Mr. Froth and internally bitching and then I realize, maybe it's penance. They need people who are normal and who have a brain. But, still. Can I get a break? But, then, I couldn't in all good conscience try to bow out because of personal shit. But, then. Can ya give me a break?

I'm thinking positively that they won't pick me. DON'T PICK ME.

He jacks with me

No, really. I don't know if it's because of the heat and humidity that seems to plague several of us all recently, lately, forever and ever, amenwe'llnevergetrealrainagaineverandwe'regonnadie.

Oh. An aside-we had .0000000007 inches of rain an hour or so ago that ratcheted up the sauna index to 5000. Thanks, clouds. Bullshit.

Anyway, Mr. Froth and I do crosswords together constantly. We sit on the porch and drink a beer or a glass of wine or more and smoke cigars and cigs and he reads the clues and I answer. Except, his routine includes "How do you spell "air" or "bee" or "ineffable" or "claxon" or " it." No. Really. He couldn't spell his happy ass out of an environmentally correct compostable yard waste bag, which, by the way, we're going to have to start buying. Please don't get me started.

So, I just go out there and he's filled in half the NYT puzzle with CORRECTLY SPELLED WORDS. Lying liar. Jacker-with of me. Unbelievable.

Earlier I swept up some dead palmetto bugs roaches that looked like they'd eaten steroids. We don't keep steroids in the kitchen. Or bathroom. Or my purse. Just kidding! Well, not about the steroids, but those buggers will hide anywhere.

Then, I sat down to watch SNL highlights. And then I tried to nap but my pulse is racing for some reason so I got up and ate a turkey/cheese sandwich without the bread. Because, we have NO bread. Why?

It is possible to have short skanky looking hair if sweat is the product you use on it.

My skin is luminous, though, and I'm sure I look years younger than my 800 that I feel today.

And, my toes still look good if you blur your eyes. No Fancy Feast on those digits! But I would like a toe ring.

We've been invited, surprisingly, to a nice steakhouse for dinner tonight by our neighbors who live in Guadalajara and who have an extra house in our neighborhood. They're the ones who have the Lamborghini and are sweeter than all get out and keep giving us tequila just for keeping an eye out. It's crazy-but, should I have a filet or a ribeye? We have ribeyes at home all the time, so I'm thinking a filet. And I'll have to clean up which is too tiring to contemplate right now. 

No mo skank hair!

I am not kidding. I got those suckers chopped! I have a layered stacked bob that moves, baby! I am styling and rolling! It feels good, um um um um um um um. Like I knew that it would.

No more skank hair. The rest of me. Eh.

Embracing the skank

Keith advised me to embrace my skank. So, I've been embracing my skank for awhile and I'm ready to throw the skank to the curb. I don't care what it costs. I broke down and made an appointment to get my bulbous head hair shortened and colored by the wizard. I can't stand it anymore. It's in my mouth and eyes and even if I were to let it grow three feet it would still look like it was 10 inches long and I'd be one of those almost 60 year olds with hair dragging their face down and then I'd have to smash lipstick all over my mouth out of the lines and have makeup caked in my wrinkles and have earrings attached to my eyebrows. Or something. And wear roll up stockings and cackle.


I'm not sure there's anything wrong with cackling, however.

Turquoise ho

There seems to be a thread going here. Skank. Ho. I think it's because I awoke at 2:44 a.m. today. Yes, 2:44 a.m. slept out. So I listened to an old Chris Rock HBO comedy presentation. He is funny. Totally inappropriate but SO funny. Funny funny funny.

Whatever. I awoke eventually after dozing off and hit the CVS to get things like readers and cough drops and melatonin (I've never tried that, so I'm gonna) and what struck my eye?!?!?

Not turquoise the stone. No, I'm way less maintenance than that, though I do lurves me some turquoise. No. Turquoise Okabashi flipflops! Really! Turquoise! Not the ugly brown and black ones. I had to buy them. So I did. I'm not sporting turquoise rubber flipflops that are almost comfortable.

I have a good life.

Skank hair

I'm developing skank hair. You know, the roots start oozing out blaring the fact that you really REALLY need to get some color touchup. Not black roots, just mousy blonde gray roots that contrast more and more remarkably with the unfortunate pinkish cast that I inflicted upon myself a month or so ago.

I was trying to save money by not visiting my regular hair wizard who charges about $120 a pop for a cut and color. She's awesome. Fabulous. In fact, she called me when I hadn't been back in awhile and I didn't want to say "I put some cheap shit on my hair to hold me over because we have other expenses that overrule $120 hair cut/colors." I told her I would be in soon.

It's a bad idea to put cheap shit over expensive shit, because it ends up looking like cheap shit as it grows out. Is that a metaphor for something?

sigh. I'm going to let it grow out a little more and then go groveling in and beg her to fix me before Frothlet 1's wedding so that I don't represent the skank section of the inlaw parts.

In defense of jurors

Of course in the wake of the Anthony verdict there are all sorts of idiots castigating the jurors for their verdict.

I maintain that if you haven't been a juror on a murder trial, or any trial for that manner, then you're blowing smoke up everybody's asses.

We operate under the rule of law and as a juror you're required to evaluate the evidence and testimony you're given along with the judge's charges. It's a very clinical thing. You HAVE to conclude things with all this in mind. You're given very specific directions. You cannot, you cannot decide someone's life based on a hunch or a feel or because you just don't like the accused. You cannot. Otherwise, you might as well live in some godforsaken despot-ridden country.

With that said, I truly believe the Anthony trial jurors had no choice other than what they did. That doesn't mean you don't think she or her family were involved in something, somewhere that contributed to the death of the child.

But, it wasn't what was on trial. It's horrible. It's heartwrenching. But.

I get tired of the beating up of jurors. The two trials I've been on have been composed of very intelligent and thinking people. When we ruled that one guy was going away for 40 years without parole, having waived the death penalty, we all cried and shook. Not that we didn't believe he was guilty, but that it was an horrific thing that we had to do, along with having seen pics of the dead guy, that we were actually doing this. But we did.

The prosecutors in the Anthony case didn't prove their case. The end. The jurors took their oaths seriously and came up with the appropriate, NON-hunch verdict.

If you have never been a juror you have no idea how seriously people take this. And forget the "CSI" bullshit pundits have been proffering. Any intelligent person knows that circumstantial evidence can convict someone. It just has to actually connect to the case it's involved in.

Sorry. Rant over.

Elder Mr. Froth

As I've posted in the past Mr. Froth's dad has undergone some major adjustments. Nursing home, inability to walk, losing his mindish a bit (hell, I lost mine a long time ago), but, he's back up to conversing rather well, even though he forgets pertinent facts. Whatevs. He's eating not totally smashed up food. And, he's producing artwork through an Art Without Boundaries program at his facility. I present, and with no small amount of pride, in fact, I'm totally fucking amazed and want to cry and sell this:

Does he rock or what?