I served Jury Duty once before but lost my jury certificate, a mistake which I will never make again. The male defense attorney was really well dressed and looked like Hector Elizondo and the female defense attorney looked like a grown up Haley Joel Osmet (the resemblance on that one was frightening) and the prosecutor looked like a moron in a cheap suit who made a big thing of the fact that he brought a banana every day for lunch.
And you get really attached to the other people on the jury-- or I did, at least. We were like The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen only better, since I don't really have any desire to see the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and I don't think the reviews were anything to write home to mother about either. But that feeling of being united with others and fighting crime as one--that Voltron feeling--it was fabulous. Plus they gave us croissants every morning and they were way better than I'd expect institutional croissants to be.
But the trial...
So we listened to the whole trial and even went on a FIELD trip to Quincy to see where the crime had supposedly happened and I got to take notes on this pad they gave me and we got stuck in an elevator for half an hour and it was this WHOLE EXCITING BIG ADVENTURE right up until the end when they chose me as an alternate and made me sit in a room with only one other person who spent almost all her free time doing crosswords and grading papers.
The first day of my alternatization I wasn't prepared and I hadn't brought anything to do--I took each one of the wire coat hangers, untwisted them, and bent them into a menagerie of wire animals, since if they could just make me an alternate, I could make it REALLY FUCKING DIFFICULT for them to hang up their coats. But my anger subsided and I even exchanged a few words with the other alternate who was, for the most part, too old to want to talk to someone for which wire coat hangers are a source of amusement.
Aurora the houseguest has finally created her own livejournal which will be interesting, I think, since every time something happens in this house she and I and possibly Karen, occasionally, will be racing to our damn livejournals trying to get it down before anyone else does.
Her name (which she got from a Balderdash game) is sockdolager which means 'a hard hit.'
She is a fun and fascinating person.
She plays badminton with me even when she is sore from having done it yesterday and the day before that.
She likes to watch movies.
If she says anything bad about me, it is not true.