from the fucked up files of mrs. basil e. frankweiler

I've spent the last two weeks lying around at my parents' house and my own feeling crappy, bored, and useless, primarily because my phone remained silent and my inbox empty. No one wanted me! I had nothing to do! (Besides watching five episodes of Iron Chef America in a row and drinking.) Now today, all of a sudden, I am in high demand.

I woke up at the ungodly hour of 8:30 to go to my dog grooming "interview tryout" which turned into a "fill out an application while talking about experience and leaving after five minutes to the owner's cries of 'You're the only person I've seen with any experience! Please start working for me full-time immediately!'". Then I proceeded to the Gap to find a plain white button down shirt for my waitress training. No such thing existed in the women's department (aren't cheap plain white shirts the purpose of the Gap?), but, ladies, take note. Little boys shirts from Gap Kids fit like a dream and are $25 or less AND are made with Stain Resistant GapShield Nano-tex Fabric. Which anyone who knows me at all knows is a huge bonus. (I bought a blue one too.)

ANYWAY, while in the fitting room, I got a text from Cute British Good Kisser Dude who was otherwise about to fall off my radar. Nice. Then on my walk home I got a call from one of the medical research jobs I applied to weeks ago asking me to come interview next week. NOW they call me. I proceeded home to rest up for waitress training, which, go figure, turned out to be great. The restaurants' atmosphere is the perfect combo of casual and bustling, the staff were all nice, friendly, and charmingly vulgar, and my shift culminated in a tasting of all the white wines-by-the-glass and the salati.

I arrived home in a state of buzzed, cheesy, olive oily bliss, and decided that, now that I'm getting paid, it was finally time to open my mailbox. Amid the usual shitty catalogs and coupon booklets was an envelope marked "State of New York United Court System - Offical Business, Open Immediately." No no no no no. When I was working in mind-numbing office jobs I was dying to get called for jury duty. Now that I've just started a job that will pay me well and make me happy . . . not so much.

Everything up to that point today was good. I have filled my "flirty text message exchange with someone I would like to make out with again" quota. I have multiple employment opporunities and get to pick my favorite. And now, NOW of all times, the State of New York wants to fuck it all up. I must return their damn form within 10 days as required by law. And here's where I ask you all to provide your tried, true, or theoretical "get out of jury duty" tricks. I have never longed so much to have, in the past, been convicted of a felony.