skree skree skree

Tomorrow may be Valentine’s Day, but today is Friday the 13th.

When I was 12, I was slightly obsessed with horror movies. My enthusiasm for gore was mild in comparison to my all-consuming adoration for Transformers – the sheer depth of my robo-obsession made little room for other things like social skills or boys, but I managed to squeeze things in here and there.

My personal favourite was Jason Voorhees. He was SO much cooler than Freddy Krueger – the strong silent type with a machete always wins over the smug chatty guy with long fingernails. My friends and I rented movies almost every weekend (it’s a good thing there were so many sequels), and occasionally we would mix things up with some Michael Myers (strong, silent, butcher knife, mask of William Shatner: also cooler than Freddy). I don’t think we ever strayed outside the big three – it wasn’t so much the genre we were into, but the villains themselves.

I’ve loved keeping lists of things for as long as I can remember. Therefore, in honour of today being Friday the 13th, I present to you:

The Body Count from Friday the 13th Parts 1-8, as tallied by my teenaged self in a small notebook featuring Optimus Prime on the cover:

It’s the gift that keeps on giving!

i fought the law

How hilariously law-abiding is my life that I now think I’m a total badass because I’ve been to COURT?

Ridiculous or not, I am very excited that I have been through the courtroom process and that I pled guilty to a crime (okay, a violation) and I got to address a judge as “your honour” and everything.

I arrived at the courthouse at 9:15. There were many people milling about, waiting for their own trials to begin. I was very pleased to note that I was the only one wearing sequins, but I did see a dapper older gentleman in a fedora and a girl wearing a feather boa and stripper heels. I wasn’t worried about the competition, though – if it came down to sheer fabulosity, I would win by virtue of not wearing brown lipstick alone.

Various police officers were standing around looking official. While I technically should have hoped my own personal officer wouldn’t show up, I was glad to see she did – this way, I would get the whole experience. Each cop is supposed to talk to their arrestee to learn their intentions before approaching the court, so she took me aside to talk in the corner.

She got straight to the point. “Are you intending to plead guilty today?” I thought for a second, then explained why I was here: she entrapmented me! I was pulled over on that fateful night some 16 months ago because of the “illegal” turn I made, but my ticket was issued for the tinted windows (which were no longer tinted). Entrapment isn’t right, so I was here to fight for great justice (take off every zig) and my rights as a Canadian citizen! I erred on the side of caution and didn’t blurt out that I really was here because this was totally awesome – I ‘ve never had an excuse to appear in court before and I didn’t necessarily want to break laws for my chance so I was going to milk this experience for all it was worth.

The cop explained that she was actually doing me a favour by giving me the tinted window ticket – the fine for breaking a posted traffic law was greater, and given that I was clearly an Upstanding Citizen (she actually said that – twice – you heard it here folks; Delicious Juice Dot Com is an Upstanding Citizen) with an exemplary driving record, she hated ticketing me at all. She wasn’t going to argue with the judge; she would accept whatever he or she decided – but if I plead guilty, she would introduce my Upstanding Citizeness and perfect driving record to the court, and that plus the fact that the windows were now clear would probably get me a reduced fine.

I decided that I would do the smart thing here and plead guilty. There wasn’t much I could do about it – the ticket said “tinted windows”, the rest of the situation was heresy, and let’s face it – my windows WERE tinted. Also, not paying the $109 fine sounded like a good idea to me. Perhaps at some point in the future I could go through a real trial and present witnesses and evidence and shocking twists, but in the interest of my wallet, I decided to cave. Deep down I really wanted to plead not guilty just to see what would happen, but this didn’t seem like the place to do that. Next time, though, I will totally do it: I’ve never seen a holding cell, or worn handcuffs and clothes at the same time.

A little after 9:30, we were ushered into our various courtrooms. I had never seen a courtroom outside of TV before, so I was amused to note that this one appeared to have been built and decorated sometime in the Beige Era of the 70’s. The judge was seated already, and while he wasn’t wearing a powdered wig, his fancy judge cape had some lovely green satin piping. I don’t know what that means in judge ranks, but it was pretty fancy. I bet he was at least a level 3 judge. He took attendance of the cops present, and dismissed the charges against anyone who had a ticket issued by a cop who didn’t show up. He then called the first policeman to the stand, and asked him to present his first case.

The cop called up some guy who was prepared with an envelope full of paperwork. Judge Spiff wasn’t having any of it though, and told the man he wouldn’t be needing his carefully prepared documents. He seemed a little disappointed, and I totally knew that feeling. The judge read the charge – speeding – and asked the guy for his plea. After pleading guilty, he was given an opportunity to explain himself (or as it went in my head, the part where he is allowed to throw himself at the mercy of the court). It seems it was the day after this man’s wedding, and while he knows he shouldn’t have been speeding, his mind was elsewhere with excitement and it won’t happen again. The judge accepted his plea, reduced his fine to the mandatory minimum, and dismissed him from the courtroom.

COOL!

Next up was Junior McArgyle. He was there on two counts: speeding, and the failure to display the province mandatory “N” for new drivers. He had a long boring story to tell that boiled down to pleading guilty for speeding, and not guilty on the N count (it fell off, he says). The judge asked him his financial situation and how his fines would affect his life. Junior McArgyle was a student who lived at home, and didn’t have much money so the judge gave him six months to pay his reduced fines, then sent him on his way. Another verdict for Judge Spiff!

While Junior was talking, someone came into the courtroom. A very confused young man came in and stood at the back of the room during the session, and after Junior was dismissed the Judge asked Flat Brim Ron for his name. He gave it three times, as the Judge was unable to find him on his docket. It came to pass that Flat Brim Ron wasn’t actually there for himself, he was there for a friend – a friend whose name he had wrong, and needed to be corrected by the judge. After it was determined that his friend’s name was Johnson (not Jones) and he was there in his place, he was asked to give his name. The instant he did, the cop looked at him very sharply and very closely – I really, really wish I knew what was up with that, but there was some definite recognition and a story in there somewhere.

Flat Brim Ron’s case took longer than most, because he had absolutely no idea what was going on. He wasn’t really sure why his friend got the ticket, or what he wanted to plea, or why he wasn’t able to be in the courtroom himself. He shook his head blankly at every question asked, and as the cop was giving the judge the details – Flat Brim Ron’s cell phone rang. Judge Spiff was less than impressed by the entire situation: that Johnson hadn’t shown up, hadn’t given his friend any information, hadn’t tried to arrange something else with the court, hadn’t just paid the fine, hadn’t told FBR not to dress like a complete douche bag who didn’t have the sense (or read the signs telling him) to turn off his phone in the courtroom, and hadn’t taken responsibility for whatever it is he did. FBR eventually muttered something about wanting a later court date, to which the cop protested – Johnson had ample time to deal with this as the ticket was over 18 months old, and it was stupid to drag this out any longer. Judge Spiff agreed, and the request for continuance was DENIED. Johnson was on the hook for the entire fine, Flat Brim Ron could go away now, and it was time for the next case.

A few more cases came and went, including one that required the use of a translator (put off until the cop had a chance to talk to the defendant) and one that went to actual trial because of the Not Guilty plea (Judge wanted to hear the whole story in greater detail). After those were set aside and others dismissed, it was MY TURN!

My name was called, and I took my place at the podium with my cop to my left. The judge asked if I was the person I was supposed to be, to which I answered “Yes, your honour” and bit my tongue to keep from giggling. He read my crime – I had done a 7.05 (7) – and asked how was I to plea?

I took a breath and announced that I would be pleading guilty. I felt a pang of shame as I said this, because I didn’t WANT to be guilty – hell, it wasn’t my car and I didn’t tint the stupid windows and also there was entrapment – but I knew it made the most legal sense. The judge noted that the car was not mine, and I admitted that it was actually Ed’s. The cop spoke up at this point, to introduce my exemplary record to the court and explain that I was an Upstanding Citizen with no prior offenses and that she was asking for leniency on my behalf. Sweet! The judge looked over the ticket, then asked about my financial situation. I hadn’t expected this, and I stumbled for a few seconds before giving the lame answer of “umm .. regular?” with a helpless giggle. I didn’t know how to say it: I have a job, it doesn’t pay very many chickens, I work in IT so what do you expect, I only look rich because I am wearing sequins, I spent my last $4.25 parking the car to get here – so I went with a description that could be used to describe, among other things, bowel movements and menstrual flow. The judge seemed confused by my answer, repeating it back to me. He then announced that the court accepted my guilty plea and acknowledged my Upstanding Citizenship, would therefore reduce my fine from $109 to $25, and how would I like to handle it? I chose to pay the fine immediately, so the judge dismissed me from the courtroom and told me to go downstairs to pay. I thanked his honour, gathered my things, and left the room.

SUCCESS, SORT OF!

Now to pay my fine. I trundled downstairs, stopping to take some pictures. I quickly noticed the large sign saying that any cameras or recording devices were strictly forbidden, so I stuffed my camera in my bag and went looking for the cashier. I found it – after accidentally finding myself in the Small Claims line – and handed over my debit card to pay up the $25. I saw a lanky teen with another flat brim being handcuffed, several other people paying their fines, and lots of sheriffs standing around looking official, but I was done quickly and with half an hour to spare.

Since I *was* done so early (I put two hours on the parking meter; I wasn’t sure how long this thing would take) and I had sort of won my case (if you consider a guilty plea and still having to pay a win) AND I happened to be directly across the street from a MAC store that launched the HK line two days early .. well, I bought myself a treat by way of congratulating myself for only spending $25 on my crime instead of $109. Hey, I earned it. I fought the LAW today, and if that doesn’t call for celebratory lip gloss, I just don’t know what does.

you are guilty of being AWESOME

you are guilty of being AWESOME

contempt

I’m off to my court date! If I do not come back, it is because I’ve been thrown in jail. Frankly, I will consider today a complete failure unless I am held in contempt of court and also if robot sharks don’t try to eat me.

I may not have a surprise witness, but I *am* wearing sequins. Take that, justice! I will fight you with my bedazzled excellence!

Wish me hilarity!

i have no mouth and i must .. be cute

It’s Hello Kitty Tuesday at all ends of the spectrum, and I’m kind of okay with that.

I love Hello Kitty stuff. I own a significant amount of Sanrio things, including the fabled Hello Kitty vibrator. My last PC was even named Hello Kimmy in tribute. It’s not necessarily a sickness, but sometimes I just want to look at cute as a pleasant change from my usual agenda of death, decay and destruction.

I awoke to an email letting me know that MAC’s Hello Kitty collection launches today. I’m somewhat ashamed – but not enough to skip it entirely – to note that I’d been eagerly awaiting this announcement, because even though it’s cliché and more than a little stupid I am but a helpless mass of estrogen when it comes to cute. If that wasn’t enough, on my way to the car I noticed a bright pink piece of mail tacked up on the message board: a HK-shaped postcard with another reminder of the MAC launch; one that is now on my cubicle wall at the Lab.

fear the mouthless army

fear the mouthless army

I get the point – I’m supposed to go buy Hello Kitty stuff today at lunch (except I can’t – meetings are super). The universe wasn’t quite done with the hinting, though. It felt like a sausage kind of day, so I went through the Drive Thru on my way to work. Signs announcing the new Happy Meal toys were everywhere, and oh look – a whole series of Hello Kitty watches available now. I may or may not have bought one with my McMuffin, and it may or may not perfectly match my outfit today.

hello-watchy

a creepy coincidence

It’s good that I have this small and ridiculous bright spot, because I’m really quite cranky today. The aforementioned “rubbish” comment really pissed me off, and being stuck in a meeting for 75 minutes that didn’t apply to me did little to soothe the savage beast. I’m trying really hard to have a good week, but I seem to be failing spectacularly.

Is it strange that I hope tomorrow’s court appearance will cheer me up?

grrrr

Who knew? Apparently being told that something I’ve done is “rubbish” completely gets my hackles up. I’m as close as can be to snarling without actually showing teeth. Fun!

death by fabio

Few things sour my Monday morning mood faster than being run off the road.

I chose to ignore the ominous dusting of snow on the hills behind my house this morning and instead focused on the positive – the shiny yellow sunshine highlighting the shoes dangling from the trees across the street. My ride in was brisk, but I’ve been colder. In fact, it was largely uneventful if I completely ignore the fact that Fabio tried to kill me in a Range Rover.

He was on his cell phone – naturally – when he thought it would be an awesome idea to change lanes right into me. I braked hard to avoid the collision and zipped around him on the left, laying on my horn the whole time. I stopped at his window – he rolled it down, and apologized in a thick Italian accent. The accent combined with the smile were probably really quite charming, except I really fucking hate it when people don’t pay attention to the road and almost take me out. I was too pissed to let loose my usual barrage of insults and random swearing, so I just shook my head in disgust and went on my way.

Something about a shiny new day seems to make people kind of stupid. I was also cut off at the entrance to the bridge by an asshat in a Civic, but it wasn’t nearly as close as the Incident with Fabio. I was in a fairly good mood before the idiocy, but I got grumpy pretty quickly. I need to shake this bad mood; it’s too nice outside to dwell on rich assholes and their giant cars and stupid cell phones.

So, what should I wear to my COURT DATE on Wednesday?

explosive

I’m not sure how I did it, but I exploded the garbage can I keep next to my Girl Station in the bedroom. I threw it out last time I was cleaning, but I haven’t replaced it yet. As a result, my side of the room is covered in crumpled tissue paper because I’ve been liberally tossing them on the floor instead of getting a temporary garbage receptacle. The room looks like it belongs to a teenage boy with gender issues – dirty clothes, make up, video games and used Kleenex everywhere. A normal person would be embarrassed – me, I’m just amused. Jizz mops everywhere!

Last night’s Tegan and Sara show was *awesome*. I can’t believe I’ve never seen them live before; it was so much fun. They sounded amazing and are cute as all hell. They played first, and in a bizarre twist, the show started at exactly 8pm – apparently the Olympic committee is big on timely shows. It wasn’t a true concert in the usual sense, it was more like a performance but it was great just the same. Broken Social Scene took the stage second, but after the first couple songs we left – I’d never heard them before and was there just for T&S. BSS were okay, but not really my thing. 5 of us hung out in the lobby of the Orpheum for a while like high class hooligans, then we grabbed Reilly and walked down Granville Streeet (an adventure unto itself) to meet up with Tanya and company at the Two Parrots. We headed home around midnight after another fun Friday evening – one in which I did not cut any bitches.

I slept for approximately one million years, so it’s now 2pm and I’m barely showered and awake. Operation: Donate Blood was postponed because they have too much blood at the moment, so I’m going to spend my afternoon running exciting errands: getting MORE cat medication, buying a garbage can, containing my various rages. All in a day’s work, right?

if only

If I was gorgeous and he were taller and a sad gravelly song about love was being crooned in the background, our public fight on Granville at Robson could have been right out of a movie.

As it is, he is of average height and I am merely plain and our only soundtrack was the noise of a busy city failing to come to a halt at our emotions.

Whether this story has a Hollywood ending, though, remains to be seen.

I hate this shit.

word ball

This is pretty cool:

word-ball1

It’s a java app that makes you some pretty word art based on your URL or text block. Try it out – it’s nifty; I just killed 20 minutes playing with the different patterns and fonts. It doesn’t seem to work for specific articles, though. No matter what Delicious Juice entry I pointed it at, it came up with content pulled from my main page. Too bad – I would have loved to see a word ball made up of Return to Castle Bonerstein.

Duh – you can PASTE text in. So I did:

rtcb2

Hee!