Wednesday, August 31, 2011

life in law

I rarely have a day so ridiculous that I post about it immediately. However, they do happen, so here goes nothing:

Today was like any other day: got up... finally, got dressed, got my beloved dirty chai, went to class, and headed off to work (LIKE AN ADULT!). I was really looking forward to work today because sometimes school becomes so overwhelming that I need to be reminded I can play AND be responsible at the same time. The office is a great outlet for that. So there I am, blissfully seeing NOIs flow out of their bin, and then one of the paralegals comes in with the "look". You know like when you have to tell your parents you got ANOTHER ticket or that "your friend" wrecked your car, or, for the parents out there, that the baby pee'd on your side of the bed. Yeah, that look.
I even said, "Oh no. Why that face? Why the smirk?!"
She sweetly said, "Well, you know that subpoena...?"
"Yeahhhh... the one in Opelika?"
(insert lolz here) "You need me to take it, don't you?"
"Yeah... Is that okay?"
"Yeah, that's fine..."
Mind you, last time I served a subpoena, the twit that I gave it to was such a jerk. Dear human, WE PAY YOU TO COPY PAPER!!!! C-H-I-L-L-A-X. And dear person who doesn't know what a subpoena is, I'm not suing you, and if I were, I certainly wouldn't come here on my own. I'm just the messenger. 99.79% of the time, you just have to produce documents. You've been schooled.

Before I head out on my wild adventure, I get summoned to sign a Will. My nickname by one Speagie is Padme', like Queen Amidala ,or Natty P. He probably couldn't tell you my name if a gun was held to his head, but it makes it all the more fun. Anyway, the Will, so one of the guys, who I'm guessing didn't read a ton of comic books as a child because he yells this AWESOME line to me every time I'm need for one of those: "TO THE BAT CAVE PADME'!"

Okay, to the real story. So I get on the road and the first stop is Tuskegee. For those of you who don't know, as a small white girl, I would stick out like a turban on a plane (i just did that... didn't i?) in that city. So there I am driving down the road to the back of Tuskegee, even better, and my directions send me down the wrong county road. Since I'm like Michael and it's telling me to go into a lake, I must obey. I go down this road, dirt mind you, covered in trees, no one in sight, OH and did I mention my phone is on the fritz?! I have no ability to have verbal communication to the outside world. Texting is about as far as it goes. I tweeted about a million times on the drive over because I had nothing else to do (Oh our poor generation... we're broken). The only thing flashing through my mind is when my sister and cousins almost got killed in Tuskegee on a back road (story for another day). This is not healthy. I finally decide that, "you know, I'd rather live", and turn back around. I see a tiny Mom-n-Pop station at the last turn I took, so here goes nothing...
I walk in, completely bemused and disheveled:
Lady: "Can I hep you, hun?"
"Heyyy... hey, hey. Okay, so I'm super confused. I have no idea where I am, but I keep being sent down CR 53 when I want to go down CR 63, but, well, this keeps happening."
Lady: "Well, hun, you gosta go down duh road an you see a ho-tel on duh right an duh street right aftuh it."
"Okay, so right down the road on the right, a hotel is in front?"
"Yeahhmm. Choo know, right down deh on duh right. Mmmhmmnn."
"Okay. Thank you so much!"
"Yeah dahlin, on deh right, hotel, mmmhmmnn."
"Yeah, okay. Thanks again"
"On deh right, doll."
I knew at this point if I wasn't just completely rude and walked off  right then, I'd be saying thank you all day and I would still be in Tuskegee right now. Off I go. (Guess what was on the right?) I see that this road is not NEARLY as terrifying as the last CR. UNTIL I get to the place of my destination. Oh hey abandon log house and your scary side shop filled with overgrown grass and rusty trucks... Wait a second... Am I staring in Shark Night 3D?!?! jklolz. So I go to the house, and don't yell at me. My one job was to serve the subpoena, and I am going to  serve that subpoena. Well how about that, there's a creaky swing and a breeze? I seriously felt like I was in a made-for-tv movie. Long, LONG story cut a smidge short, I walk to the uber creepy shop that says HOURS: 8AM-5PM. Liars. No one was there. However, as I'm standing there I see in the distance a tree with lovely yellow leaves. One leaf falls, and falls slowly, to the ground. If any of you have "The American", so many long and dragging cinematic clips in that movie were in exact timing with my life. If you haven't seen it, don't waste your brain cells; ugh, just the worst. So now that the point in life I'm in and the love a fascination I have for symbolism and literature (thanks Flannery O'Connor) I thought, "OHEMGEE. That is totally representing my impending death," and I run back to my car. I send a text to one of the girls at work (remember HOW I CAN'T CALL ANYONE?!?!) threatening that I'll haunt her and everyone else in the firm if they don't get me out of there alive. Since there are no cell towers in the backwoods of Deathtopia, I don't get her response for a solid 20 minutes. Marcus Mumford and I bonded over some lovely lyrics and great tunes.

I get to Opelika, where the real place is for me to serve, and I can't find the building. I stop at one location and they send me into the Mexican ghetto. I try another place and they sadly see an ugly side of me. I may have snapped at one of the guys in the building, and he was just saying hello. My b, boy. The other guy must live with lots of girls because he was super sweet UNTIL he walks outside and says,
"Are you going to be coming back by here?"
"No. What? Why?"
"I could just take you over there."
"Yeah, I don't think so."
"Here get in my car and I'll pull up the GPS location-here-we-are-map-touch-screen-thing. (It should be noted: I'm technologically retarded and all technology knows that I am. Look at what my phone did to me.)"
"Uhh.. what's your name again?"
"My mom told me to never get in the car with strangers... (plop into his car)"
Sweet Brian found the building for me. And I thought I was done with ridiculousness, UNTIL:

I pulled up at the wrecker shop, where people actually worked, and as SOON as I get out of my car, "Hey daRlin. What can I do for you?"
"Is your supervisor here? I have a subpoena for him to sign."
"It's not for you, it's for him. Is HE here?"
"No, baby. He ain't. He ain't been here but for 10 minutes today."
My face must have been full of rage or tears; I'm not sure.
"You o.k.?"
"Yeah, okay. Can one of you sign it and make sure you give it to him as soon as you see him?"
"I don't want my name on no legal doc-u-ment. I ain't bein sued fer nuthin."
"And neither is he. He just  needs to show up and testify. No one is in trouble. And subpoenas AREN'T BAD. PRODUCE DOCUMENTS, SHOW YOUR FACE. NOT. A. BIG. DEAL. Now one of you sign it. NOW."
"Alright, Will you go do it."
W: "So he jus gotta go to court? I gotta do that next week for some child support crap."
(you have GOT to be kidding me)
 William takes the pen from me and guess what... he has 9 fingers and about 7 teeth.
Other guy: "Alright, you from 'round here?"
"You come 'round here much?"
"nope." (then I thought, "I'll be back here in less than 2 days... he doesn't need to know that...,")
"Can I subpoena you fer lunch?"
"Absolutely not."
Papers are signed, I'm saying thank you to 9 fingered Will.
"You sure I can't subpoena you for lunch?"
"That's not how this works, and I wouldn't go anyway. Good-bye."
Mind you, I could not have sounded more condescending if I tried. Good Country People.

As I get in the car and I start to hear lewd comments about me (always a good feeling by the way. Makes you feel treasured. Buncha creeps), I was like "WHAT IS MY LIIIIIFE?!?!?!?!" I leave to go to another serving location and at 5:04, when I pull up, the building is locked. This is Life in the Law.

Saturday, August 27, 2011


 My friend Josh (Shwaa) was going out west to meet up with a couple other friends for a wild road trip. Before he left he had a wedding to shoot (he’s a part-time/slow getting things out videographer). My friend Jenna accompanied shwaa to the wedding, partially for my benefit since I was the one driving shwaa to the airport and needing to not die on the journey home. This is that story:

Jenna and I love music, but we REALLY love to sing it, especially car singing. You know, where you trap other people in the car and they have no choice but to listen to you and your person karaoke sesh… yeah, we love that. After the wedding that all 3 of us went to (btdubs, it was so beautiful; YAY MEAGGIE AND HUNTER!!), we were all disgustingly sweaty, and fortunately for my and Jenna’s noses, shwaa was close to a shower and took advantage (preesh). As we’re making our way out of Tallassee, we stop at the only gas station near the interstate for some caffeine and treats. After jenna and I get our snacks, we head out to the car, but not before we see Sgt. EXTREEEEME. The rent-a-cop is wearing combat boots, a bulletproof vest, has a bald head (nothing wrong with that, I’m just telling you what he looks like; everything else is ridic, but i actually like the bald look for a minute or two), and is carrying… a taser. A little bit excessive for a Saturday night at the Tallassee BP, but you know, I wasn’t going to judge... until the following happened. Jenna and I are patiently waiting for shwaa to get his chicken (gas station chicken… really shwaa? Really?), when Sgt. E. comes out with his gas station pizza, leaning on the trash can and busts out this gem of a story: “whell, yew know when dat bwoah comes back down her’, I’ma be ready. I tell you what. (whips out taser) I ain’t ‘fraid to use this. (tases the air) I hope Volduhmort (yes, VOLDEMORT) shows his face. I can’ way-uht,”.

Jenna and I are just sitting there, trying to avert our eyes, but he’s there putting this show on for us (Dear Sir, let’s get real. You probably don’t have a high school diploma; you work the night shift at a gas station; and you’re about 45. While your attempt at being young and cool and a bit BA was noble, you can’t avoid what you really are, old and washed up. Ttyn). When he said “Volduhmort” I’m pretty sure jenna and I fell over with laughter. Shwaa FINALLY got out to the car and we sped off into the night. Did I mention that I’m blind as a bat when driving in the rain or in the dark? Yeah, this just adds to the fun. 

Well, there we are.  I think Shwaa wanted to have a meaningful conversation on the way to the ATL, but Jenna and I wouldn't have it. We sang so much T.Swift that it would have made country people like heavy metal (we're passionate singers... not gifted). We find our way to the airport, drop Shwaa off (4 or 5 hours early mind you) and Jenna and I head back to the Gump. Before we really get on the road, we head to the nearest coffee joint. Awesome, it's a gas station. This gas station had a "coffee bar" with pumps of additives. Being that I'm about 5, I was like "PUMPS OF ENERGY SHOTS?!? GIVE ME 20!!!!". Jen over-loaded on cinnamon and we left... not before I hit up the restroom. As I'm walking out of the bathroom, I see this woman standing outside the door in her socks talking as "doown howme" country as possible. She was closely followed by her daughter wearing the same shoeless ensemble. As she stood and talked to me for about a billion years, Jen is standing off to the side just watching, no attempt to rescue, just watching.

Torture over, we attack the road again. And following are tweets that were sent from me and Jen that night: 

jpeyt: @clarabell87 is so hyped up on the crack cocaine energy she put in her coffee she's only saying 1/every 10 words she needs to to communicate

Me: I may or may not die from multiple tastebud hemmorages on the way home.

jpeyt:  @clarabell87-"Taste it It's like burned popcorn and I like burned popcorn but this coffee's like kettlecorn burned popcorn what am I saying"

Me: This crack coffee has brought laughs out of me i didn't know i was capable of forming. They're really scary.
jpeyt: @clarabell87 fortunately it hasn't impaired your driving judgment...oh wait
 And don't worry, you know we took a twitpic to remember what the crack coffee killed in our brainz:

 After we decided we still wanted followers and friends when the trip was over... I had to go potty again. ( I blame it on the crack coffee) There were no gas stations open since it was about 2 in the morning est., so Jen and I got creative. We saw that there was a truck stop with lights on and we prayed it was open, but our (my) worst fears came true. We found a ton of shrubberies on the other side of the parking lot, which was massive, and we parked as close to them as possible, and, well... I guess you can figure out what happened... this was the picture that Jen took to immortalize the most ridiculous moment in my life (which is saying a lot if you know me at all):

The End.