Jury Duty, Day Two

So, in we go, shuffling inside the courtroom....

(*note* Since we are instructed to NOT discuss the case, I won’t, lest P starts snitching and calls up to the courthouse and tells them I’ve been blabbin’….Hey P!!!) Right now, we're deep in the voir dire phase, which is just fancy legal talk for: questioning prospective jurors to see what kind of wack excuses they can come up with, to get out of serving on the jury. More on this to come...

So anyway….Supa (known to the court as #886) takes a seat in the courtroom along with all the other schmuck jurors. And let me stop now, and introduce my newfound cohorts, The Wayward Jury Crew (aka The WJC’s) so you don’t get them mixed up with the other schmucks.

Juror #101 – Cool ass cat. He's an actor. (I know - how Hollywood.) He’s a cross between Greg Kinnear and Jude Law. He endeared himself to me immediately, when I looked down and noticed he was rocking some hi-top Chuck Taylor’s. Dude is hi-fucking-larious. Kept making smart-ass remarks while court was in session, causing Supa to burst out in inappropriate laughter. Does a mean Ahhhnold Schwarzenegger impression. Claims he’s in some Pier One commercial, but Supa ‘aint seen it. Ha!! Smile, #101. And Juror #101's wifey - if you're reading this, he's always talking about how "hot" you are, and he's so excited about the pregnancy, and he's reading his book about the delivering the baby at home, and it's just really fucking cute.

(We’ve got some new blog readers, people. Told them I was gonna write about all this jury duty madness, so they assured me they’d hop in the mix and start reading..)

Next, there’s S-Loc – We struck up a convo on some ordinary girl-talk type shit. S-Loc is a chiropractor and just started part-time as a mortgage broker, and gave me some tips about some crafty financing options for my home equity loan(she'll never take YOUR place though, SingleMa!) and I gave her my postcard with my book info and she said she’d definitely buy it, and she’s really funny and she kinda talks like a sista and she’s from Egypt (like, dude, maybe she’s my cousin?) but she says people mistake her for a whole bunch of nationalities: Latina, Tragic Mulatto, Native American, etc. and she had me cracking up at lunch today when she said that someone once called her a Camel Jockey. And that’s not as bad as being called a "Sand N@gg!r." ‘Cause I’ve heard that one too.

Teacha – Teacha is a teacher (duh) and she loves her little fifth graders to the death. She kinda puts me in the mind of this chick. And she would simply not shut the fuck up with the funny ass comments – between her, me, and #101, we got plenty of dirty looks from the Bailiff. We’re like the bad kids in the back of the class, all snickering and fidgity and slightly rowdy. Sitting with them is like being back in junior high. Somebody’s gonna launch a spitball come Monday, I just know it.

Ms. Tango – A New York City transplant, two years fresh in LA. She’s a TANGO instructor, and I’m totally thinking about signing up for her class. Said she went to Buenos Aires some years back and fell in love with the culture and the dance. Now I wanna start taking tango, and salsa lessons, and samba, too. But I’ve got yoga tomorrow. Okay, let me stay focused….

Cinemetography Dude – Anotha industry cat. Supa noticed him reading a script, so she nosed her way into all his business. And yo, that script was kinda wack, Cine Dude. “Slap me some skin?” Who even talks like that?? I know, I know – you didn’t write it. Anyway. Dude puts me in the mind of this guy from the movie Memento. Cine Dude is really grumpy and pissed about being on jury duty, ‘cause he’s supposed to be on the set and he’s losing money, or something. So sometimes he doesn’t engage in foolishness with the WJC.

There are other supporting characters – Elder Black Woman, Harley Dude, Guy that Talks Way Too Loud, Chick who wears her hair in Pony Tails, Strange Looking Dude, Old Woman who Can’t Hear, etc. BUT this is where Supa must now confide that’s she’s caught a wicked crush on someone….

(drum roll)

……..okay, okay, it’s the fucking Prosecuting Attorney. (This is what happens, boys and girls, when you're in a Sahara-like dry spell and ‘aint getting any on the regular – you begin to daydream and develop baseless, juvenile-like crushes on people you don’t even know)

And everyone agrees with me – the Prosecutor dude is a dead ringer for…CLIVE OWEN!!
Now ya’ll already KNOW he’s #1 on the Hypothetical List of White Boys Supa Would (Hypothetically)Put It On…I mean, baby (Prosecutor dude) has gotta be at least 6’4”, 240, broad shoulders, wearing the hell out of an Armani suit, deep-ass commanding voice, walks around like he’s runnin’ this b*tch, complete with a sexy ass scowl on his face. A muhfucking GANGSTA in a SUIT!! Now that's hot.

Sheeiiit, got Supa actin' all giddy n shit. I mean, look - Supa really needs something fun to do while being held hostage in the same room for an unlimited number of hours...But – as Teacha pointed out, Mr. Prosecutor does have some big ass ears. I told her, well yeah, okay, but he’s got a big ass dome, too, so they look proportional….but, his feet DID look kinda small…aww man, all that fine-ness, it’d be a fucking TRAGEDY if ole’ boy was deficient in the umm, lower appendage area….

And on that note, my jury duty read is HUNG: A Meditation on the Measure of Black Men in America by Scott Poulson-Bryant, which is about the myths and realities of black male sexuality in America. Just thought I'd...throw that in there for you literary negroes...

Meanwhile, Supa’s trying to figure out how’s she gonna slip a “DO YOU LIKE ME? Check Yes, No, Maybe” note to her fantasy man come Monday.

I already know. I 'aint well.