My Sister in law brought her kids into the city to see the Radio City Christmas show today. She drove in...during the holiday madness...drove...did you hear me? She drove blindly into GRIDLOCK. Am I glad I am working today & not accompanying her into this insanity? What do you think.

She was planning on driving down 42 Street through Times Square (as if driving anywhere near Rockefeller Center was not bad enough). This got me to thinking about the old Times Square...before Guiliani started banishing the porn & Disnifiying it up.

When I was a kid...I used to beg my Mother to let me take the bus into the city in the Summertime to visit my Dad at work. He worked on Madison Ave. which meant I'd only have to walk a few blocks from the Port Authority to get to his building. I was about 12 when I started going in alone...but I looked younger...not that it mattered much. I'd get off my bus & walk to the street. No one told me not to make eye contact with anyone. No one had to tell me...because if you slipped...& you gazed at the wrong person's eyeballs for 2 seconds or longer...bam...the homeless person camping out in the bus station would stare at you back & maybe grab your pocket or stick his finger in your ear (& he'd do it all from his vantage point on the grimy floor...such disrespect...I'd think...he could have at least gotten up to greet me properly).



Once on the street...I'd start walking fast up 42 St. All along Times Square there would be people standing on street corners handing out flyers for adult entertainment shows. I had no idea what a lap dance was...but I could guess what a peep show involved & I certainly knew what the flashing, gigantic, neon sign blasting promises of LIVE, NUDE GIRLS meant. I remember thinking...who'd want to see dead, nude girls? (little could I have even guessed what some freaks are into...my little girl head would have exploded right there on the spot).



I'd get to my Dad's office & tell him all about the guy who yelled at me from a doorway wanting to take care of a sweet thing like me...or about the woman with the most sparkly gold outfit on & could I get thigh high boots with 4 inch heels like she had. In the back of my head...I knew I shouldn't be telling my parents about any of this...if I wanted to keep exploring the city on my own ever again...but it was all too much to keep inside.

Times change...no parent in their right mind would let their small kid venture into an eye opening experience like this alone these days. Funny thing is, they cleaned up the bus station years ago...no more homeless people camping anywhere on the premises, no drug deals in the dark corners...sure...you can see these kinds of things out on the street...but not in such concentrated doses as I used to see (back in the day...)...& the porn...that's all been driven out to the outer boroughs or worse.

Do I currently have 'all my ducks in a row'?

That depends...does it count if my ducks are all one legged, crooked & quite honestly pissed (they look pissed...don't they?).

What the hell am I talking about? I'm asking you? Am I really? Why are you looking at me like that? Fine. I'm going to let that look roll off me 'like water off a duck's back'.

As I was Christmas shopping the other day

I saw this coat.

& I wanted it.

But that's not why I was there.

Could I wait until after the holidays?

Would my coat still be there?

I tried it on.

I looked carefully in the mirror.

I rolled up the sleeve

& imagined that the arms

weren't too long.

I called my friend

& described the coat over the phone to her.

She laughed & said that if I liked it

That I should buy it.

I hung up & looked at myself in the store mirror some more.

Before I knew it

A well dressed older woman

Who'd been shopping nearby

Strolled by & said...

"Honey...it looks perfect...buy it"

I laughed...because I then realized that I must have been standing there....

looking at the damn coat in the store mirror for 20 minutes.

I thanked the kind shopper lady...who laughed...

& said that she thought I needed to hear it.,.

Which made me laugh some more as I followed her to the cashier.

I think I'd still be standing there agonizing if it weren't for my shopper-stranger-friend.

Why do I always end up telling you these stories anyway?

Yes...I'm done with jury duty!

It took 2 1/2 days to choose a jury

& 1 1/2 days to hear the trial

& one hour to deliberate.

These people were ready to convict the defendant in 5 minutes...I mean it...the court clerk wasn't even done bringing us all the evidence to inspect...& these people were asking for a vote.

After the clerk left & closed the door we weighed the evidence...ok...I did anyway...the defendant had a right to at least an hour of deliberations (without even knowing the case, you agree, right? It's a respect thing...respect to the court, to the system, to the terrifying fact that he was looking at spending the next 30 years in prison).

The 34 year old defendant was charged with trying to bring 15 lbs of cocaine & heroin into the country through the airport. Takes balls...certainly...but upon looking at his passports (he had more than one name)...it seems that he had been doing this for years. Every 3 months or so & as far as we knew...he'd never been caught before...he only got caught because agents decided to blitz this particular flight & check EVERYONE'S bags.

He had a heck of a false bottom in his suitcase & the drugs were very professionally packaged into blocks & wrapped with heavy tape & glued into the bottom of his bag. The heroin was in balloons & this whole mess was covered in grease in order to throw off the dogs (I didn't even think of that).

When the prosecution started their case...they spread out all the drugs on their table. It was astounding...they covered the whole table & were valued at $100,000 before processing...after processing...the value went up to over $500,000. Nice income...sure...but the risk...nah...I'm not so sure it was worth it.

The judge made juror #1 our foreperson. I'm glad she did. Juror # 1 was by far the quietest (13 of use went to a rowdy lunch...she was the only one who ate her lunch in the jury room) person on our jury. She stood about 5 foot nothing & was an Indian woman of about 50. She took her time & counted all our votes & read every count & made us all say how we voted...she did a great job...unlike the loud, obnoxious woman who wanted the job of lead juror...ugh...this woman was a Boston transplant...which should have made me happy...because I could have talked baseball with her...but it would have made me sick...because she was so obnoxious that I didn't want to share one of my passions with her & after being almost locked in a room with this woman for 4 days straight...I could have gone to trial for the violent thoughts I had about how I wanted to rip her wicked head off her large body & shove it into...well...we just won't go there.

Anyway...after all the waiting was done...I found the whole process interesting & worthwhile. I'm no bleeding heart...but I couldn't look at the defendant for too long. He looked so sad sitting over at the defense table with no case whatsoever. They obviously told him to keep eye contact with the jurors...he did get some sympathy from me...but only about that fact that we did a foolish, foolish thing. I kept waiting for his lawyers to mount a defense...but they never did (great dressed lawyers too...BTW...no public defenders here).

We think that either he didn't tell his lawyers anything or that the most likely scenario was that he had many more days in court ahead of him telling about his sources & filling in the big picture.

OK...I'm sorry for not posting.

There...that's out of the way.

I feel better...whew.

I've been waylaid into jury serving hell.

Actually, the serving part isn't the problem.

The case is interesting now that it FINALLY started.

The part that wrinkled my soul & made me crazy...

Was the fact that is took two & a half stinking days

To actually choose a jury.

The lawyers went through 48 potential jurors...

To come up with 14 people to sit on the jury.

That's a hell of a lot of time spent listening to people spout their facts to the court

...while trying not to slide aimlessly out of my chair.

I'll be back soon...I promise...I'll even swear on a bible...I will if I have to

(you wouldn't make me do that...would you?).

No, I did not get chosen for a jury the other day...

But no, they are not done with me yet...

I may have to go back next Tuesday...

Depends on what Ms. Federal Judgy Judge says.

(like you care anymore...it's been like a week since I posted last).



Um...yeah...I just like this photo...

either think up a caption for me or pretend that you never saw it at all.

As I sit here in an uncomfortable blue padded chair in U.S. District Court...I thank goodness for blogging...otherwise, what would I do with myself while waiting for the clerk to call my # during my thrilling day serving on jury duty?

I brought books, magazines & my iPod with me...but right now I'm in the process of being pissed that my cell phone doesn't seem to be able to make outgoing calls from here (some people around me aren't having this particular problem & it's just adding to my annoyance).

The Rachel Ray Show is blaring out of the TV right now & if she says, "Hi, it's Raych here", one more damn time...I swear...I'll smash her skull.

Getting here was no day at the beach either, sitting in traffic at 7AM felt worse than having a dirty knife shoved under my rib cage & twisted to the right.

As I followed the directions they gave me (turn left at the 11th light...ugh) a cop directing traffic yelled at me to go straight when I actually needed to turn left...he made me stop, lower my window..."I said go straight!"...he screamed. At this point I'd had just about enough of him..."I don't know where I'm going!"...I whined..."all I know is I have to go left". I'm sure he had a slight chance to take down my license plate #'s as I ran over his foot...but I no longer had the ability within me to care.

I finally got to the parking lot, walked 2 blocks & ended up in the Immigration Building...one look at me & they sent me packing across the street to the correct building & into the jury room. I checked in, sat down & proceeded to jam my stuck (& stuck good) zipper down & take off my coat...so far it's been a glorious clusterfuck of a day...I'll keep you posted,

The word he called me this weekend...

rhymes with



Any suggestions on how to retaliate?

Hell, if he's going to call me one...

I might as well act like one?