Phew, I haven’t gotten out of town in a long while. I’m heading down to San Diego for zee weekend, and I have one singular goal: to spend as little of that time as possible sober. Woo, mojitos and sake! Erm, not together, of course. (Although…)

What do y’all have planned for this hot, hot weekend? (Notice how every time it’s hot, I whine about it? In case you haven’t guessed, I HATE HOT WEATHER. Yeah, I know, I’m living in the wrong city.) I should really move to Seattle.

But I’ll still be posting — thank god for delayed-publishing features! Seriously, it’s probably one of the best features invented in blogging. I mean, I’m not so married to the site that I can’t take a few days off (although sometimes I think it’s easy to forget that) but being able to maintain a regular posting schedule is reassuring. What a weird, weird thing blogging is.

SONG OF THE DAY

The Morning Benders - “Waiting for a War” [ Download ]

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So this week I was a good little citizen bee and served out my jury duty, which was a big ol’ plate of annoying. Not the jury duty itself, which is something I agree is an important civic obligation (the nice way of saying, if ya wanna be an American and enjoy its attendant freedoms, suck it up and serve), but the whole bureaucracy of the system.

This was my third time serving, but there are always new observations:

• The jury waiting room is like a black hole of negative energy, drawing you into its whorl with its overwhelming gravity. A roomful of anxious citizens do their best to make up excuses for dismissal, but the unsympathetic clerk has heard them all, so now we’re a roomful of disgruntled citizens.
• Making up nicknames is only one of numerous attempts to make time creep along faster — ultimately unsuccessful, but I do come with a list of names, like Miss Muffin Top and Mr. Half-Combover (what, does he only have issues with being half-bald?).
• And Mr. French Anarchist dude, as I have dubbed him, who snipes in a petulant, aggravating way to his father, who is there to make sure he stays, I think? He must be at least 18 but acts like a surly 15, and spends the entirety of the morning emitting sporadic grunts of adolescent fury. His father speaks to him in French, admonishing him like a wearied parent who’s given up all hope of his son being smacked by the Maturity Gods, and French Anarchist spews back in surfer-dude English: “You’re all such… sheep! GOD! We don’t even have to BE here, you know. You don’t even know how to think for yourselves. Just look at everyone, sitting here like mindless sheep, doing whatever the government tells you to. GEEZUS. Urnhgh!” Methinks Mr. French Anarchist is the guy who showed up to one day in Civics class and suddenly thinks he’s the voice of the revolution, this generation’s punk-skater Che. Well, I think to myself, I notice you haven’t stormed out, so I suppose that makes YOU a freethinking rebel?
• Granted, I don’t want to be there either, but we’re all in the same boat. And people really, really like hearing themselves complain about how they’re too busy and important for jury duty, and how being in court one day has somehow thrown the entire balance of their fragile existences into irrevocable tailspin. Which might garner them sympathy anywhere but, say, a room full of people in the same situation.
• All day I sit in that cramped room, trying to drown out the shrillness of The View, which bleeds into the shrillness of Oprah (I now know more about pregnant men than I ever wanted to know), which then gives way to daytime soap operas, which OMG I hadn’t realized were this truly awful. It reminds me of being a kid and getting that rare sick day, excited to get to watch TV all day. And then realizing that the only thing shown while you’re at school is offensively bad soap operas. Pyrrhic victory indeed.
• I have my laptop handy, but the battery life is down to about two hours so I put it away, saving its use for when I’m utterly desperate for the distraction. I realize I am now mired in boredom and slowly anticipating greater boredom.
• It’s truly mortifying to be witness to other people flirting. It’s one thing to be at a dimly lit bar, surrounded by alcohol and hormones, but in the broad light of day in a confined space? It’s the same brand of uncomfortable as thinking your parents have sexy times.
• Especially when two of them are both wearing wedding rings. Somehow I feel dirty to be witness to this scene.
• You know this is Los Angeles because the jury duty room is lined with signed headshots of actors — Harrison Ford, Kate Hudson, Jamie Lee Curtis, Weird Al Yankovic?? — presumably who all served here, as though to say, “Stars! We do our civic duty too!”
• Some people here already know each other and are on friendly terms. I think this is grossly unfair; people shouldn’t be allowed to come to jury duty with friends. We should all have to suffer equal amounts of the boredom hell. It may sound like I’m grossly exaggerating jury duty boredom, but it really does hit Sartre-like levels. It’s like traffic school but worse, because at least at traffic school we have the bittersweet consolation in knowing we did something wrong to deserve this.
• Day 1 ends with us being summoned to the courtroom at 4pm. We wait outside until the bailiff calls us inside at 4:30pm, which is coincidentally also when court gets OUT. We all file in, sit down, and then the judge tells us, “This is as far as we’ll go today. Come back tomorrow.” The district attorney smiles at the jurors but it’s one of those forced, creepy smiles, and all I think is how much pandering attorneys annoy me.
• Day 2 starts with another prolonged wait, at which point we get a call from the courtroom. One way to make a roomful of frustrated, grumpy adults jump up and nearly cry in joy? To hear the case was settled.
• I get my paperwork and leave, relieved to be off the hook, and yet I’m really kinda bummed that we were excused before even getting to hear what the crime was. It’s like we had to sit through all the painful parts, then were denied any of the interesting ones.

 
And how was your week?

SONG OF THE DAY

Yael Naim - “Too Long.” Lovely French-Israeli singer-songwriter. I went back and forth on which song to post, but in the end I picked this one for its chorus, which is one of her more eclectic-sounding songs.
[ Download ]

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I try to keep my political opinions to myself (nothing gets volatile opinions flaring faster than discussions on politics and religion), but it’s Open Thread day so I’ll just say:

OBAMA!

(Policies and party affiliations aside, the man sure can speak.)

SONG OF THE DAY

Mates of State - “The Re-Arranger.” This song makes a bad day better. (Liberal applications of chocolate and coffee also help.) [ Download ]

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So, who enjoyed their short week?

I have to make the half-shameful admission that the highlight of my TV-viewing experience this week wasn’t a kdrama for once (meh, they’re so boring right now) but the return of So You Think You Can Dance. I wasn’t even aware it was coming back till it popped up on the ol’ Tivo. It’s OMG so in-your-face cornball and unabashedly cheesetastic. Cat Deeley is adorable — she’s the perfect cheesy-reality-show host: enthusiastic and never condescending of the material no matter how low it sinks. (And boy, does it sink pretty low sometimes.) Although it’s a show, like Top Model, that you really can’t watch without the fast-forward button at the ready.

SONG OF THE DAY

City and Colour - “Save Your Scissors.” You haven’t really heard this song till you blast it over headphones. Seriously, it’s a different experience altogether — like you’re floating in an ocean of harmonies. [ Download ]

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Well, I’ve been sick all week. (You know what the downside of being really healthy is? All your medicine is expired.) Bleh. Alls I know is, I’d better be back in fine drinking form by Memorial Day.

Holiday weekend plans, anyone?

SONG OF THE DAY

Madeleine Peyroux - “Dance Me to the End of Love” [ Download ]

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