Pranksters, I owe you a debt of gratitude that I can’t possibly repay. Thank you for your comments, your love and your support about my upcoming surgery. I tried (badly) to explain how I was feeling about telling the Internet about it over here on my tumblr-ish blog. I don’t think that I did a very good job.
If any of you would like to come over and sit on my couch with me in the upcoming weeks, perhaps helping me change diapers while gossiping about how ugly my walls are (they are), please do, I’d love the company (I live in St. Charles). My email address is firstname.lastname@example.org
A couple of weeks ago, because I’d been too busy watching dancing cat videos, I forgot that I had Jury Duty. I’d actually been pretty excited to serve, because I watch Law and Order: Their Life Sucks More Than Yours So Shut Your Whore Mouth like it is my job and I was all, “IMMA JURY OF MAH PEERS, YO” so when I opened my date book and saw I was four hours to late to show up, I panicked.
Immediately, I tried to figure out what to do when the cops showed up to bust me for contempt of court. I put on a full face of makeup and hid in the bathtub for awhile while I contemplated blacking out a couple of my teeth, just in case COPS, the TV show, showed up, too. I mean, this was my television debut, and I should act the part, right?
Eventually, I got cold and bored and the lure of Uncrustables pulled me from the tub. I put on one of those fake mustache and glasses, which meant that when the cops DID show up, I’d fool them. Clearly, I wouldn’t look like Your Aunt Becky any more. I’d look like an entirely different person now!
The following day, I realized that I liked to wait as much as I liked to cook (read: not at all), so I called the number on the back of the Jury Duty summons.
Me: “I’m a total idiot and forgot to show up yesterday for Jury Duty. I considered fleeing the country, but figured I’d call you first. I’m really sorry.”
Her: “Bwahahahaha! Happens all the time. We weren’t going to arrest you.”
Me: “OHMYGOD I hid in the bathtub for an hour. But it was really like twenty minutes. But still, I’M SO SORRY.”
Her: “BWAHAHAHAHA! The cops do have better things to do than stalk people who forget Jury Duty.”
Me: “OHMYGOD that’s so relieving. I didn’t want to have to adopt a new identity!”
Her: “No! You don’t have to do that! We’ll just put you back in the Jury Pool. When is good for you?”
Me: “Doesn’t really matter. I don’t have a job or anything.”
Her: “How’s November 8th?”
Me: “Sign me up!”
Her: “You got it.”
So there I had it. My new date in court! I was all a-flutter! I was going to help DECIDE THE FATE OF SOMETHING OTHER THAN A DELICIOUS UNCRUSTABLE. I couldn’t have been more excited.
Until, looking at my slightly unexpected surgery date, November 3rd, I realized that November 8th was…uh…kinda close. Like, really close.
I debated what I should do. Should I call and try to reschedule AGAIN? Get a doctor’s note? Limp my sorry ass in there with a cane and sexy drains hanging out, all doped up on pain meds?
SHOULD I FLEE THE COUNTRY AND ADOPT A NEW IDENTITY?
To think straight, I put on the fake mustache and glasses. Then I called the Jury Duty lady and left it up to her.
Watch out, petty criminals: AUNT BECKY is coming to give you JUSTICE.
Probably while wearing my fake mustache. Just so I can think straight. AND so they can’t find me and firebomb my car or something. Because, obviously.
No one will recognize me!