tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47151210033140582562023-11-15T11:21:15.471-05:00Southern Belle, EsquireA--hopefully--humorous blog about the trials, tribulations, privileges and blessings of being a mother/wife/daughter/sister/attorney/Southern belle who calls 'em like she sees 'em.Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.comBlogger159125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-11122918751001879422012-10-19T08:15:00.000-04:002012-10-19T08:15:00.786-04:00Oops. Forgot One.Well, boys and belles, after Ashley's Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad Words of Comfort posted yesterday, I was called and reminded of this little nugget:<br />
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9. To the young lady sobbing in my office, convinced that her husband was having an affair: Honey, take a step back here and look at your situation for a second. You're hot. He's not. You're <em>really</em> hot. He's <em>really</em> not. I know, I know--you say that he looks much better since he shaved off his moustache, but let me put it to you this way: You can shave a gorilla's ass, but it's still ugly.Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-21703057579116658402012-10-18T10:12:00.000-04:002012-11-27T12:05:56.130-05:00Ashley's Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad Words of Comfort<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
You may or may not have guessed it from my previous posts, but I’m not perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Were you sitting down?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That may have come as bit of a shock to some of you.</div>
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As a matter of fact, I am a most <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">imperfect </i>Southern Belle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am glaringly missing a key element usually present in the DNA of every properly reared Southern woman:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My usual coping skill is to simply keep my mouth shut in touchy situations, but there are certain instances where I have no choice but to attempt to utter a coherent string of words in sticky situations.</div>
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Now, I can tell somebody off or shut somebody up lickity split.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tact isn’t required in a fire spewing transaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s my kryptonite?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the love of God, no matter what you do, please, please, please, in the name of all that is good and holy, don’t cry.</div>
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I know that men are supposed to be the ones who freak out at tears, but I somehow missed the mushy gene.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hate tear-jerker movies and I would much rather sit through an action flick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oprah gives me hives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Hallmark Channel makes me want to bang my head against the wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Typically, if someone starts to cry in my office, I flap my hands around like a chicken, throw a few tissues at them and screech for a warm and cuddly paralegal to come in and fix it, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fix it now!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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You see, boys and belles, I have tried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have tried to bestow words of comfort upon the tearful and—although I occasionally I knock one out of the park—I usually tend to just make things worse.</div>
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“Oh poo,” you’re thinking, “she can’t be all that bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not rocket science to just pat someone’s hand and tell them that everything’s going to be okay.”</div>
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Right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I choke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not to mention, things aren’t always “going to be okay,” no matter how much I wish I could make the promise.</div>
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Need examples?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here, in no specific order are:</div>
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Ashley’s Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad Words of Comfort</div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">To the middle-aged lady who was sobbing at the notion of signing her Will:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Signing this Will won’t kill you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, your husband might want to since he’s the sole beneficiary and all, but North Carolina has a Slayer Statute that would keep him from inheriting your estate if he did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, don’t worry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>certainly don’t have any plans to kill you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That I know of.</li>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">To the boy in trouble for harassing his former girlfriend who lived in his dorm:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look, the good news is that you get to stay in school, but you’ve <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">got</i> to leave the girl alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it’s any consolation...look...have you had your eyes checked?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m just gonna come right out and say it: She’s homely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re a good looking fella.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are jillions of prettier ladies out there and you’ll see that once you go get and you some glasses.</li>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">To the gal in tearful distress at the news that her probation was being revoked because she’d failed three drug tests in a row:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look, the good thing about prison is that it’s free rehab and I would hope that you harness the wisdom to see it that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just avoid the heroin dealers and shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other plus is that the women get to wear pink instead of orange now, so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">yay!</i></li>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">To the girl who came in for her first appointment, sat down and started crying without uttering a single word:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh my good God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t even said anything yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you ok?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do I need to get a paralegal?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you crying because of the situation you came in to see me about or did I do something to make you cry?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll need to stop that now.</li>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">To the lady that always ended up crying after <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">every single conversation </i>I had with her on the telephone:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Slow and even-toned as though talking to a gunman in a hostage crisis) Okay Mrs. X, I need to have a conversation with you and I promise that it’s nothing to get upset about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing in the world I need to know about is whether you were referred to Dr. So-and-So by Dr. Whatshisname.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wait!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nonononono!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stop!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stop crying right this minute!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no reason in this world to dissolve into tears about a physician referral!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unless it involved a spinal tap or a rectal exam, I’m really sorry, but I think that you need to pull yourself together!</li>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">To the tearful gentleman about to plead to shoplifting at the Wal-Mart:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If having to stand in open court and plead guilty to swiping Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen lip gloss doesn’t cure you from shoplifting, then there’s no help for you whatsoever.</li>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">To the hysterical drama queen who wanted a restraining order taken out on her ex (who she perceived to be stalking her) when they ran into each other in the middle of the canned goods aisle at the Harris Teeter:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Personally, you couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to go back and relive the pre-pubescent world of junior high school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did you actually enjoy it?</li>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">To the sobbing mother of twins who just discovered that her traveling salesman husband was, in fact, unemployed and using the “traveling” part as an excuse to roam around all over and fornicate with various women:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am so sorry, but I don’t do domestic work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a criminal attorney, however, so if you decide to kill the motherf***er, please don’t hesitate to call upon me.</li>
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Yeah, I don’t think Hallmark is going to be coming at me with a contract any time soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-56976109148167649622012-10-03T10:58:00.000-04:002012-10-03T10:58:01.041-04:00HAVE YOU SEEN THIS CHICKEN???<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
A Southern Belle can live anywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can adapt just as well as any highly trained spy or soldier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can put us in the jungle and we’ll be just fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Drop us off in the arctic cold (if you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">must</i>) and there will be no problem whatsoever.</div>
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Yeah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve done the “Ava Gabor” and traded in the big city life for Green Acres.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whoopity do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a Southern Belle and I am adaptable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great balls of fire, even the Original Southern Belle (O.S.B.), Scarlett O’hara, was born and raised in the country—although I’d love a tip on how she dealt with that damned red clay getting all over her frilly ruffles and finery. </div>
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Good ol’ Johnston County! </div>
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It’s true that I was a resident of Johnston County when I was in law school and to say that I was less than happy about it is a gross understatement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Barbara Mandrell croons, “It was country when country wasn’t cool.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cried at least once a day for reasons such as: (1) Going to vote and standing behind a man in line who was wearing nothing but a pair of overalls and a Richard Petty hat;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(2) Reading that the White Swan BBQ Shack was voted the best place to propose marriage in Johnston County; and (3) Getting stuck on the 2-lane road to school behind a giant, noxious-smelling truck carrying pigs so that I had to look at pig asses all the way to my Constitutional Law class (I’m sure that there is symbolism in there somewhere.)</div>
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I’m much better about it this time around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it’s because I’m not ensnared in the sucking black hole of doom that was law school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it’s because I live in Clayton and Clayton has basically become a bedroom community to the evermore sprawling Raleigh.</div>
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Of course, just when I get a little bit <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">too</i> comfortable, something happens to remind me that I am still in the land of pork rinds and moonshine. </div>
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Take, for example, an innocent trip to the pool this summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby Belle 2 and I were lounging in the shallow end of the pool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An adorable little girl who looked to be about my child’s age got into the pool with Mermaid Barbies and that was pretty much as good as catnip to Baby Belle 2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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The girls got together and decided that they wanted to play with each other, so introductions were in order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby Belle 2 told the little girl her name and the girl introduced herself as Jolene.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Jolene” isn’t exactly your everyday name, so Baby Belle 2 asked her name again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The girl said, “You know, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jolene! </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like the song!” and then little Jolene proceeded to sing the entire Dolly Parton ditty wherein Dolly pleaded with Jolene not to take her man.</div>
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Well.</div>
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I talk about the importance of manners and how the fierce retention of manners can help you out of socially awkward situations, but I am ashamed to report that the bottom of my mouth dropped to the floor of that pool and I wordless gaped at little Jolene for quite a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am, however, pleased to report that my little Baby Belle 2 smiled and clapped and said “What a pretty song!” and they immediately commenced playing the Barbies.</div>
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I was yet again shocked out of my comfort zone a couple of weeks ago as I drove to get my girls from school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was barreling down Highway 70 and I passed a little white church that was packed to the gills for what was obviously a funeral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How was it obviously a funeral?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, there was a hearse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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The thing is, this wasn’t your average, everyday hearse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a black Dodge dually with a giant black camper shell that sported some nice and shiny landau bars on the side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s horribly tacky to laugh at a funeral (even if you aren’t technically in attendance), but I am yet again ashamed to admit to a quick and uncontrollable snort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, now I kind of want the black Dodge and all its glory for my funeral, too.</div>
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What was the coup de grâce?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so far</i>, the coup de grâce occurred as I stood in line at the drug store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As usual, the line was taking forever with all of the price checks, special cigarette purchases and signups for special store cards and such.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When my eyes quickly tired of the various half-naked Kardashians flashed across the day-glo trash magazines at the counter, I looked over at the flyers pasted around the wall behind the cash register.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Lo and behold, my gaze fell upon a poster titled <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“HAVE YOU SEEN THIS CHICKEN?”</i></b> with a picture of the apparently A.W.O.L. poultry at the top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I’m sorry, but I thought it was a joke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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When it was finally my turn to buy my toothpaste, I chuckled and mentioned the amusing sign to the cashier who promptly and seriously informed me that I was in a farming community where folks never joke about their livestock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was tempted to ask if the chicken had any distinguishing characteristics, but I felt that I had pushed my luck more than enough by that point.</div>
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I have since named the chicken Jolene in my head and I do sincerely hope that she gets home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lawd have mercy.</div>
Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-91413587051617137682012-09-17T12:24:00.000-04:002012-09-17T12:25:01.257-04:00The Pwease Defense<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
I don’t know about you, but teaching manners to my children often feels like I am fighting a tidal wave with a paper towel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If one of my Baby Belles voluntarily employed a “ma’am” or “sir” while addressing an adult, I honestly think that I would expire right on the spot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Honestly, if my children can remember which fairy is who on Twinkle Pix Town (or whatever it’s called) I don’t see why they can’t remember to throw in a little courtesy in their dealings with others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are Southern Ladies and that title is a lot to live up to for heaven’s sake!</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Please. </i></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think we all agree that “please” is a critical word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby Belle 1 rarely employs this word on her own, but Baby Belle 2 will throw it in every now and again to make me skip around and feel like a decent parent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I am also forced to employ that soul-crushing parental exercise when my children demand something without using the Magic Word where I stand or sit stoically ignoring them while waiting to hear their request politely rephrased.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The soul-crushing part of the exercise is when I sit there forever and they hang off of me nagging horribly and loudly for what they want without ever catching on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really, one would think that they would figure out my tactic and intent after all these years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It makes a Belle want a mint julep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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On the other hand, “please” can be a bit of a double-edged sword.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once the precious little ones learn the Magic Word and that their use of it can often get them what they want, they begin to think that their employment of the word should get them <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">absolutely everything</i> they want:</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><u>Baby Belle 2:</u><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mama, I want that pink Barbie Jeep.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><u>Mama:</u><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><u>Baby Belle 2:</u><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>BUT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>SAID.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>PWEASE!!!</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><u>Me: </u><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know and your manners are great, but that Jeep costs as much as a real Jeep.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><u>Baby Belle 2:</u><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>BUT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>SAID.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>PWEASE!!!</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">[Cue the poked-out lip, the crossed arms and the sit-in protest at Target.]<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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I just imagine going to the jail to visit one of my clients for grand larceny, asking why they did it and hearing them say, “BUT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>SAID.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>PLEASE!!!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Well, then it makes perfect sense that you should take that shotgun from the pawn shop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nice manners!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thank you.</i></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once again, I can only hope that Baby Belle 1 simply likes to drive me crazy by withholding the thank-you’s at home while employing them out in the world as she should.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Good Lord, give me strength with that child!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby Belle 2, on the other hand, is better thanks to what I like to call “The Tickle System.”</div>
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When Baby Belle 2 was smaller, I gave her a little tickle and said, “You’re welcome!” whenever she said thank you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She giggled and thought it was fun and it reminded her to employ good manners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What could possibly go wrong?</div>
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Ahem.</div>
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Well, one day whilst in a public place (doesn’t it always happen whilst in a public place?) Baby Belle asked for something and I gave it to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was involved in a conversation, so I wasn’t really paying attention, but my precious little thing thanked me for my service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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All of a sudden the entire crowd heard, “I SAID THANK YOU, DAMMIT!”</div>
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It was an example of manners gone horribly wrong.</div>
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I’ve been pondering the subject and, now that my children are getting older, I’m thinking of new and cooler ways to advocate politeness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hate to go there, but it’s true that manners can cover up a wealth of sins and get you out of some pretty tight spots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the Eddie Haskell Rule:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you’re polite to other people’s parents—and adults in general—you’re golden.</div>
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When I was in high school, Mr. Moore was my principal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a great guy in a thankless job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To tell you the truth, I felt kind of sorry for him, so I went out of my way to speak to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Moore always remarked on my manners and said it was so wonderful to hear such graciousness in a crowd of rudeness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Call me a suck-up if you want, but he really did get crapped on all the time and it was pitiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The inmates truly ran the asylum.)</div>
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Anyway, my high school had a sadistic “on-campus” lunch policy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blech.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the days when rebelliousness kicked in 3 or 4 of us would jump in a car that was hidden off behind campus and go get better food for lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our plan was foolproof until one of us accidently bumped up against a piece of crap El Camino and set its car alarm off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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The first member of faculty we ran into was Mr. Moore:</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mr. Moore:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hello Miss Culbreth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did you have a good lunch?</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Me:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, sir.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mr. Moore:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure you ate in the cafeteria like you were supposed to.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Me:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, sir.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mr. Moore:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because you know that you aren’t allowed off campus for lunch.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Me:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, sir.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mr. Moore:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such nice manners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Enjoy the rest of your day.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Me:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you, sir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You too.</div>
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Mind you, the entire conversation was conducted with me holding a giant soda cup from Taco Bell.</div>
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Yes, manners cure many, many, many shortcomings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t suppose that I’ll use the aforementioned example as a lesson for my Baby Belles, but I’ll think of something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The important thing to remember is that politeness is critical for Southern Belles and, quite frankly, please’s and thank-you-dammit’s can get you a long way no matter who you are. </div>
Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-85996147938523349772012-09-11T07:31:00.002-04:002012-09-11T07:32:23.222-04:00Doilies, Flannel Shirts and Cocoa Puffs<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
The good Lord knows that there’s a need for folks like domestic attorneys, real estate attorneys, tax attorneys and the like because I wouldn’t touch that stuff with a 1,000-foot pole.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mind you, it’s not that I feel that those areas of practice are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">beneath</i> me, but the intricate skill and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>INFINITE PATIENCE</u></b> required to be an attorney in those forums would have be picking people off with a shotgun from a bell tower less than half a day into trying.</div>
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There’s also one little plus in favor of being a general practitioner over a sole practitioner:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don’t have to miss all the fun.</div>
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Yes, I am a criminal defense attorney and I see plenty of...um...<em>interesting</em> things in that line of work, but I get to work in other areas of the law that present different and very, very, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i> unique challenges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What in the great wide world am I talking about?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Old English Text MT'; font-size: 14pt;">The Last Will and Testament<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Old English Text MT'; font-size: 14pt;">of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Old English Text MT'; font-size: 14pt;">Bless Your Heart</span></div>
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Ah yes, Wills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The crazy shit people want to do when they go on to the Hereafter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Folka blow me away with their post-mortem preferences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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For those of you who have yet to enter into this “Final Contract,” allow me to assure you that your signature on said contract will neither cause nor speed up the process of your death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get an alarming number of quite distraught folks coming in to sign their Wills—seriously, we’re talking a 5-10 Kleenex situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess it’s the thought of their death that gets them in such a froth, but why should they give a shit?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ll be dead for crap’s sake!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re going to die after they sign at the same time that they’re going to die before they sign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(My paralegal suggested that I not use the aforementioned argument as a tool of comfort for crying clients.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Bequests are always interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The husband leaving everything to the wife and vice versa is always nice and one or two specific bequests (Cousin Tom gets my shotgun) aren’t that big a deal either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s when you get the client who wants to inventory their entire house right down to the dust bunnies and leave every single thing to a different person that makes one’s eye start that nervous twitch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve done Wills 80+ pages long that looked like lists for garage sales.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You get the:</div>
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<u>Random:</u><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The doilies on the red armchair to the left of the fireplace in the front sitting room go to Sister Gladys at the church.</div>
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<u>Bequests that lower value: </u><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the pair of antique silver candlesticks on the dining room table goes to Cousin Hilda and the other candlestick goes to Cousin Martha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<u>Bequests that make no damn sense whatsoever:</u><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The size XXL red and black checked flannel shirt with three of the buttons missing goes to Uncle Ned.</div>
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A particularly fun characteristic of folks who draw Wills with 4,342 bequests is that they constantly want to change who gets what.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They also need to update their Wills frequently when they acquire new items.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever floats their boat, God bless ‘em.</div>
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Another interesting aspect of Will preparation is the passive aggressive Testator/Testatrix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is an individual who will put up with someone that they despise for their entire lives in order to give them the ultimate post-mortem middle finger in what they view as their final manifesto, i.e., their Will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I can’t begin to tell you how many times folks have come in wanting to leave out a child or their brother or sister.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s more, it wasn’t enough to just leave them out—the Testator/Testatrix wanted to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tell</i> them why:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“In case George is wondering why he’s not getting any of my earthly belongings, I know he’s the one who got drunk and messed up my pig cooker and he was too cowardly to tell me and too cheap to replace it.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I usually manage to convince them that leaving So-and-So out of the will is more than enough of a slap in the face.</div>
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Still, I had one gentleman go completely crestfallen at the news that he wasn’t legally allowed to disown his wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A legally married spouse is automatically entitled to 1/3 of their spouse’s estate in North Carolina and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While she was going about her business at home, he wanted it put in his Will that he was forced to leave her a portion of his Estate and he didn’t want to leave her anything because she’d kept him miserable for 47 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>According to Darling Hubby, she never let him go to the Moose/Elk/Buffalo/Whatever Animal Lodge, she made him go to church, be nice to the neighbors, she kept him constipated and he actually wanted to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>marry her sister and carried a torch for her all his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t even get him to tone it down, so I sent him to another attorney.</div>
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What’s the craziest request?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lord have mercy</i>—Cocoa Puffs the cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, this isn’t one of those urban myth deals where kitty inherits a massive fortune and everyone suddenly has to be nice to the little bastard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To this day, I will never understand if Cocoa Puffs was a beloved pet or a reviled pet, but he sure to hell was unlucky.</div>
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Cocoa Puff’s owner wanted it in her Will that, upon her demise, the gardener was to report to her house, whack Cocoa Puffs with a shovel—yes, she was specific about whacking the cat with a shovel—and bury the carcass of the less than dearly departed Cocoa Puffs between the pool house and the shed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the very many things that gave me pause about this highly questionable plan was that she didn’t even want Cocoa Puffs buried <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">with</i> her, so it wasn’t like the owner was desirous of having her feline companion with her for all eternity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no idea whether or not the gardener was on board for this plan, but I have the distinct feeling that Cocoa Puffs was most decidedly not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hate cats, but I wasn’t on board either.</div>
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Believe it or not, one constant truth in this legal universe is that something even crazier is guaranteed to walk through the door just when you think you’ve seen it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it trumps whacking Cocoa Puffs the Cat, you might just have to visit me in that padded room we all know I’m destined for sooner than later.</div>
Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-87695882233879299592012-09-10T10:36:00.002-04:002012-09-10T10:36:06.228-04:00Just Hang Your Head Out the Window<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
I am from New Hanover County, North Carolina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those of you unfamiliar with the area, there are two types of hills within the confines of the aforementioned county:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(1) Sand dunes;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and (2) putting greens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the astronomically rare occasion of snow, children all over Wilmington sneak onto golf courses for the sorriest excuse for sled rides that you ever did see.</div>
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I am a flatlander.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My ears pop when I go over bridges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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A little over a year ago, my family went on a trip to the Lake Lure area of the mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beach folks are supposed to go to the mountains for vacations and mountain folks are supposed to go to the beach, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Huh.</div>
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Scott and I packed up the Baby Belles and we all set out in the family SUV and headed for the western portion of the State.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a while, the straight paths of the interstates turned into the winding little pig paths that snaked up and down mountains and around waterfalls and creeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scenery was beautiful, but we were 2 hours past ready to be out of the car.</div>
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Then it started.</div>
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Baby Belle 1:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mama, I don’t feel so good.”</div>
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Truthfully, I thought she was bellyaching because she was tired of riding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby Belle 1 does a scene worthy of any Shakespearean tragedy when she gets so much as a paper cut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nonetheless, she claimed that she felt queasy and God knows I never take the threat of barf in the car lightly, so we rolled down all of the windows and I told her to stick her head out like a dog and breathe deep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(Ah, the tender mercies of a mother’s healing hands.) </i></div>
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We made it to the resort successfully, checked in and drove up the ol’ mountain to our cabin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Up, up, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">up</i> the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">winding</i> mountain to our cabin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We arrived and stared in abject disbelief at what was allegedly our driveway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t say that it was a 90 degree angle, but it was at <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">least</i> 100 degrees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I totally sucked at geometry in school, but I swear I could prove myself with a protractor on that one.</div>
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Scott seemed determined that he could get our cram-packed Suburban up the black diamond slope, but the Baby Belles and I were all for sliding back down the mountain and sleeping in the lobby of the check-in center.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In spite of the fact that he was resoundingly outvoted, Scott turned the truck and took it on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was treated to shrill, eardrum-bursting screams of holy terror from the three females in the car, but he made it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will furthermore add that those screams occurred every single time we went up and down that damn driveway for the duration of the vacation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Naturally, everywhere we wanted to go was a Von Trapp Family Alp Trek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We careened to a crafty country store hanging on a precipice over river rapids where Baby Belle 2 got out of the car and announced that she was going to throw up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Throwing up is Baby Belle 2’s super power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That kid can throw up at the drop of a hat and let me assure you that it is a spectacular show each and every time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She yakked right at the front doorstep of the store and I had no doubt that the culprit was car sickness because she used to get queasy when I tried to put her in the little bitty baby swing as an infant.</div>
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Unfortunately, the kids weren’t alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was about to suffer a serious blow to my pride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been on tiny little boats tossing around out in the ocean where everyone else on board was as sick as a dog and I was perfectly fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was skipping merrily around the Queen Mary 2 in the icy and churning waters of the Atlantic Ocean between New York and Portsmouth, England while hundreds of other passengers couldn’t lift their heads out of bed. Wusses one and all.</div>
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Ashley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doesn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Get. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Motion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sickness.</div>
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Ashley got motion sickness.</div>
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Naturally, it was all Scott’s fault.</div>
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If he hadn’t been tearing around those winding-assed roads like he was on some German car Autobahn commercial, his wife and children wouldn’t have had to suffer on their vacation!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t like we were on the clock or anything!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We could get there when we damn well felt like or we didn’t have to go in the first damn place. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good God Almighty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great balls of fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grumble, grumble, grumble.</div>
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Up to that point, I’d insisted that Scott drive because the hills and the angles and general nightmare of the mountain roads was not something that I wanted to tackle, but the time had come:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Scott was relieved of his command.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I drove like a tranquilized octogenarian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yep, our Suburban ripped along those roads at a roaring 19-20 miles per hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Folks on my back bumper just loved me and—oh yeah—I still screamed like a banshee every time I drove up and down the driveway to our cabin.</div>
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Of course, when I drove the family to Asheville for a day trip, Scott got carsick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Now we’ve left the flatlands of the coast and moved to the Piedmont.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Honestly, those rolling hills might as well be mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To top it all off, we live down a steep slope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet again, I screech in horror every time I put the car in reverse, turn off the emergency brake and the car starts to roll toward the house before the gas kicks in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Baby Belles think I’m hysterically funny and Scott thinks I’m hysterically crazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Baby Belle 1 has gotten carsick on a couple of trips to the grocery store.</div>
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If you’ve read my other entries, you know that I don’t do snow and ice, so we are tee totally stranded when it comes to winter weather events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I already need a pick and a rope to climb to my mailbox, but I will have to call helicopter rescue if I want to check the mail in slick conditions.</div>
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Someone laughingly told me that I would get used to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I can say is that I lived in various parts of the area for a total of 7 years for college and, if I didn’t get used to it then, I’m screwed now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bless my heart.</div>
Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-53087814737972683892012-09-06T12:36:00.000-04:002012-09-06T12:36:36.129-04:00Dignity. Ain't It a Bitch?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
Oliver Wendell Holmes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thurgood Marshall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Atticus Finch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, I know Atticus Finch isn’t real, but such a legendary character joins the other great attorneys in history as the <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">raison d'être</span> for starry-eyed applicants to law school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The powerful personalities and victories of these heroes of the legal world even manage to overshadow the tsunami of lawyer jokes, ambulance chasers and general ill will toward the legal profession.</div>
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Yep, every attorney and prospective attorney is certain that they can withstand any storm or circus by reminding themselves of the dignity that great men like Judge Holmes, Judge Marshall and Mr. Finch bestowed upon the practice of law.</div>
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Dignity.</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dignity. </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such as when you find out that the client you’ve been zealously representing in his personal injury case has what one might call a...side job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, your Plaintiff has a bit of a habit of standing on the corner of notorious traffic intersections and jumping into the back seats of cars post-collision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine the whiplash he imagined!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I know that many of you are asking, “Wait a minute, the driver would notice someone they didn’t know in the backseat of their car!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Duh!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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All I can say to you is that you wouldn’t believe the amount of detail—or glaring inaccuracy—that gets overlooked in a wreck.</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dignity.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such as when an incredibly angry forty-ish year-old hooker storms into your office with a shotgun threatening to kill her most recent john because he had the nerve to try and steal her Cinderella doll.</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dignity. </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such as when you are in court and one of the prisoners in the jail box either needs to come off his meds or get his meds because he is convinced that you are one of the hookers in his stable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Accordingly to Mr. Loud Pimp Daddy, your name is Jeanina, you owe him money and you aren’t earning anything by keeping your “lazy ass” in the courtroom instead of on the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s super fantastic is that L.P.D. won’t shut the hell up and just gets louder as he is dragged out of the prisoner box to the cells in the back hall.</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dignity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Such as spending three days of your life that you will never get back arguing a personal injury case that essentially boils down to whether or not your client is truthful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s not exactly one to cause great shock and awe, I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mortification of the matter is that the truth centered around my client’s bodily functions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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In the moment in time my Plaintiff had to see the car careening toward him, he had a booboo in his britches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The question hinged on whether or not the booboo was a Number 1 or a Number 2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My client had been inconsistent in his statements as to which bodily function had actually occurred and the defense had jumped all over it—figuratively speaking—to show that the frequent changes in statements proved that my client lied like a cheap K-Mart rug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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You actually have argue to a jury about poops and tinkles and the various names for the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A true highlight of your career.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dignity</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have a client who is secretly videotaped in her apartment by her pervy troll of a landlord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the result of the supremely disappointing resolution of the criminal court case, you work with the client to get a bill passed in the Legislature making it a felony to secretly peep on another person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yay!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A rare and satisfyingly successful outcome!</div>
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Less than a month later, you are court appointed to this little buzzard who is charged with...guess...secret peeping!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no way in ten kinds of hell that this appointment is random.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I would like to interject briefly here and add that I didn’t call him a little buzzard at the time of the appointment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was simply my client just like everyone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since that time and the resulting events, I have called him everything under the sun.)</div>
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The allegations were that the young gentleman had a video camera in his bag and was filming up girls’ skirts in the library at UNC-Weed.</div>
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He was an insistent little bugger and, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">holy crap</i>, he was indignant about the charges leveled against him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t come in for an appointment so much as he stormed in and paced around your office claiming entrapment and vendettas and everything other than culpability for the charges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You buy the spiel.</div>
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You fight tooth and nail for the kid and then someone finally recovers the data from the damaged DVD in question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first part of the disc shows a bunch of extremely stupid skateboard stunts that look like an audition for “Dumbasses on Film” or some other reality show on Spike TV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of your brain cells manage to survive to about three quarters into the video when suddenly you find yourself looking up the flowered skirt of a young lady as she stands in line to check out a book.</div>
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As the DVD progresses, you go on to see the nether regions of females as they climb stairs, study in cubicles and stand around for no particular reason.</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Then </i>your client skips bail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Then</i> you have to tell all of that to the Assistant District Attorney with whom you have argued most...um...<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">zealously</i>...about your client’s angelic innocence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dignity. </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ain’t it a bitch?</div>
Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-42254532674531277832012-09-05T13:53:00.000-04:002012-09-05T13:53:05.868-04:00The Legalization of Motherhood<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
Lawyers are such weirdos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, it doesn’t help when we answer the “So what do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> do?” question at parties and our reply either makes people’s eyes widen in horror or causes them to ask for free legal advice about Uncle Bernie defaulting on a loan.</div>
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Still, it’s true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We think differently than other folks and I can tell you why: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Law School is like boot camp from hell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They break you down into sniveling bits of nothing during your first year and then they build you back up to what you signed on to be:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A cyborg-ish individual with statutes and case notes programmed into your brainwaves who sees the potential for liability at every single turn in both your professional and private lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More fun than a bag of tacks.</div>
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If I am at the grocery store and see something spilled on the floor, I take the time to alert a store employee of the problem so that the business is “aware of the clear and present danger” in the event someone falls and hurts themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks to the dumbass Legislature, such “irrefutable” knowledge of the danger is a prerequisite to a successful slip and fall case, so I go out of my way to leap that hurdle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even hover around until they take care of things so that I can make myself available for testimony in the event that something happens.</div>
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I also don’t flash my lights at oncoming cars to warn about speed traps because that’s my bread and butter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sorry.</div>
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The main problem about this lawyer programming thing is that it doesn’t turn off and that’s when you run into what I call: </div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Old English Text MT'; font-size: 16pt;">The Legalization of Motherhood<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Examples:</div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">Nesting:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s that adorable and cozy little thing that expectant mothers do right before they check into the hospital (or go batshit crazy and get some midwife to help them drop a baby in a kiddie pool in their living room).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They put sheets on the crib, wash and fluff the blankets, fold clothes, match all of those microscopic socks and put them in their special microscopic sock drawer and do whatever else comes with the unbelievably massive undertaking of having a child.</li>
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How did I nest?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wrote my Will, my Health Care Power of Attorney, my General Power of Attorney and my Declaration of My Desire for a Natural Death.</div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">Lullabies:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve all been there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s 3:00 AM and you’ve gone through the entire iPod in your head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ve sung Jimmy Buffet, Bob Marley, The Drifters, The Chairmen of the Board, Ozzy, Guns ‘n Roses, Harry Belafonte, Willie Nelson, David Allan Coe, Broadway Hits, Broadway Flops and even that “Dooby Dooby Doo” song those penguins did in that beer commercial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You start making shit up.</li>
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What do lawyers make up?</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hush little baby, don’t you cry,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mama’s gonna buy you an alibi...<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">Chores and Allowances:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the rugrats get older, they give the appearance of being able to act responsibly and handle chores.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, all parents know that this is complete bullshit and if you depend on the children to actually feed the dog, the ASPCA will be banging your door down for willfully starving your animals to death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nonetheless. parents and children continue to engage in the time honored fallacy of giving money to children for doing pretend work.</li>
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This is where being a lawyer actually works out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I drew up an Allowance Contract.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are forum clauses, non-compete disclosures, unilateral penalties—hell, the contract has been underway for a year and Baby Belle 1’s been in breach so many times that we’ve only distributed 5 or 6 payments.</div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">Sibling Arguments:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bane of parenthood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They fuss from the time they get up in the morning ‘til the sun goes down at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I think that I even hear mine carrying on in their sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the planets align just perfectly and one of them feels like being nice, the other one is a complete shit and vice versa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some parents try a points system, some parents try a more fascist straight punishment system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s face it, no matter what sort of approach parents try, they still end up leaving head dents in the walls.</li>
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What does a lawyer do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I choose to amuse myself while confounding my children:</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Baby Belle 1:</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mama! Baby Belle 2 won’t share Daddy’s iPad!</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Me: </b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Objection sustained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby Belle 2, hand it over!</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Baby Belle 2:</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Huh?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Baby Belle 1:</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mamaaaaaaa!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby Belle 2 said that I’m being Miss Bossy Pants!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make her apologize to me!</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Me: </b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Objection overruled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You were pretty darn bossy to me right there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tone it down, young’un.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Baby Belle 1:</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ma—<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Me: </b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your objection is noted for the record, but my ruling stands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you wish to file your appeal with Daddy, he gets home at 6:00.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Baby Belle 1:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b>Huh?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Me:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b>Baby Belle 2, I’m giving myself permission to treat you as a hostile witness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did, in fact, give you 3 chicken nuggets for your lunch, did I not?</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Baby Belle 2: </b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Um...</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Me: </b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I did tell you that you had to eat all 3 chicken nuggets if you wanted to have a popsicle for dessert, right?</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Baby Belle 2:</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Um...</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Me:</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see that your plate is empty, is that correct?</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Baby Belle 2:</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Smiling because she thinks she’s got it now) Yes!</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Me: </b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But isn’t it true that you only took one bite of one of the chicken nuggets and fed the rest to the dog when you thought I wasn’t looking?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>[Silence]</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Me: </b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Isn’t it?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Baby Belle 2:</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Um...huh?</div>
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Am I using my using my powers for good and not evil in the world of parenting?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Debatable, but occasionally enjoyable.</div>
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Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-43116170129979361722012-08-31T17:07:00.002-04:002012-08-31T17:07:52.634-04:00Bless Your Heart, But You Smell Like a Dead Possum<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
There may be folks out there who were raised by wolves, but I think it is otherwise safe to say that most folks were taught at least a teeny weeny little bit of manners in their childhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Of course, whether or not they choose to employ those manners in their adulthood is an entirely different kettle of grits.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I furthermore think it safe to say that children of the South are taught more manners than most, otherwise visiting Yankees wouldn’t get so annoyingly tickled about it when we are so courteous as to say “ma’am.” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Dear Lord, please give your servant Ashley, the strength not to introduce one to the business end of her fabulously high heel the next time a Yankee laughs condescendingly at her impeccable upbringing.)<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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I’ve written about the horribly awkward cotillions I endured.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Additionally, my mother preferred to reference Amy Vanderbilt, but I am also quite familiar with the work of Emily Post.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Furthermore, when writing responses or addresses and such on my plain ecru Crane’s cardstock, my motto is “When in doubt, write it out.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If any of you don’t know what in the hell I’m talking about, go forth and Google.</div>
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Here’s the thing, you’ve heard it before, but I do so love to beat a dead horse:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Misses Vanderbilt and Post weren’t familiar with this crazy notion called Women’s Lib.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God bless ‘em.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Certain situations come up in these “Modern Times” that would have the dear ladies reaching for the smelling salts before they could even begin to come up with a way to contrive a way out with manners and grace.</div>
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To make a long story short:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do you do when you are a mannerly female attorney and your client smells like they could knock a buzzard off a gut wagon?</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lord have mercy on my soul</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please understand that I’m not talking about the needy or homeless individual that doesn’t have access to a shower or toiletries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m talking about the dumbass who needed some liquid courage for their court date, so they started drinking the shelves dry at the ABC Store and/or smoking entire plants of weed sometime last month and just quit a couple of hours before they were supposed to answer District Court Calendar Call.</div>
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My first story is a cautionary tale to any new lawyers out there who I have failed to dissuade from changes their majors:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s rather obvious that you should never show your weakness to other attorneys, but you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> need to watch the bailiffs.</div>
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I don’t think I’d been practicing a month when I got my first really stinky client.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shockingly (dripping with sarcasm) he was charged with some sort of offense involving a mood altering substance and he had liberally indulged in said mood altering substance the night before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t appear to be inebriated for legal purposes, but I swear we all would have gone up in flames if someone lit a match in his vicinity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was pure tee coming out of his pores.</div>
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Now, we all have certain smells that we can handle and certain smells that we can’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realize that it’s a handicap in my profession, but one of the smells that really gets me is that day-old stale-drunk-mixed-with-cigarettes smell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we pled the guy up and the bench and,..well...I guess I didn’t do as good a job as I hoped about my complete aversion to the odor seeping from every single pore in his body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bailiff at the bench delighted in telling me later that I crept about as far away from my client as I possibly could while still defending him.</div>
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And that’s when the word got out...</div>
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About a week later, I got a call from the Bailiff’s Office that a client of mine had shown up for Court lit as a firecracker and that they were holding him in the cell behind the courtroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s just say that I didn’t fall out of my chair from shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine my joy when I found myself locked in a cell with a man (most assuredly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>my client) who smelled like George Jones went on a bender and died the week before,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bailiffs giggled outside while my faux client proceeded to barf all over the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are no dignified exits from a scene like that, but I held my head high like a good Southern Belle.</div>
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A bit later in my career, I found myself trying a property damage case in civil court.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I represented the Plaintiff (for once) and she was a perfectly nice gal, but she apparently needed a damn sight of liquid courage at night to make it to court in the morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sweet baby Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was a one-woman Alcoholics Anonymous newcomers meeting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Did I mention that I was pregnant?</div>
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Oh yes, Baby Belle 1 had been partying <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hard</i></b> with my innards for a good 4 months by that point and those of you who have lived the...um...experience of pregnancy know that smells you can’t handle when you’re not pregnant are smells you need to get the f**k away from when you are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(My post-mortem apologies to Ms. Vanderbilt and Ms. Post for my language, but if they were ever pregnant, I honestly feel that they would forgive me.)</div>
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To top it all off, my client really liked to add commentary to the testimony being presented at the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’d get right up to my face, cup her mouth and whisper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I offered her mints, but the booze was coming out of her pores.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suggested that she write her comments down for me, but that apparently wasn’t fast enough for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I scooted my chair away from her in the hopes that she couldn’t reach me, but she would doggedly chase me around the plaintiff’s table if she had to. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Then it happened.</div>
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It was a particularly bad morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My usual go-tos of Saltines and fizzy drinks weren’t getting the job done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My client whispered in my face way too vehemently and the cheap fruity cocktails had been on the menu the night before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t going to make it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked for an emergency recess as I was already halfway out the door and the trashcan in the Bailiff’s Office was closest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Karma, you know.</div>
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These days, I don’t have time or patience for polite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m in court for a very limited amount of time and I’m in a hurry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A couple of weeks ago, I was in District Court for one case when I somehow caught the attention of a dude who looked like an extra in a George Romero movie and smelled even worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There had been a deep love affair with Mad Dog 20/20 the night before and I’m not entirely sure that the breakup had actually occurred.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever—it wasn’t my problem because he wasn’t my client, but he suddenly seemed very convinced that I was his probation officer.</div>
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In his dream world, I violated him because he missed a couple of office visits and showed up drunk for a couple more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shocking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back in reality, he was trying to argue with me that I had screwed up and he was committing an egregious violation of my personal space rule while doing so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him that he was confused, he was drunk, he smelled like a still and he needed to go sleep it off.</div>
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I’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear that Mad Dog didn’t take my advice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, he continued to follow me around and argue with me about the probation violation that I gave him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I already had the beginnings of a migraine and I was looking at a 2 hour drive back home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turned around and violated his personal space with my pointy finger:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Look Slush Puppy, I’m not your probation officer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m pretty sure that P.O.’s get to carry guns and I would have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> shot you by now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sleep it off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> BUY AN ASSLOAD OF BLEACH AND WASH IT OFF!</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you don’t get the f**k off my back, I WILL FIND MYSELF A PROBATION OFFICER IN THIS DAMNED COURTHOUSE!”</div>
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Again, my apologies to Ms. Vanderbilt and Ms. Post.</div>
Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-19953944089452170042012-07-27T10:42:00.000-04:002012-07-27T10:44:16.891-04:00No BMW's, Just TMI on Human Cremains<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
Lawyers rarely mean well, so it’s quite comical when a wave good intent overtakes us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hardly know what to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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That’s why it’s particularly funny when a fresh faced law school intern starts a rotation at the courthouse or a glassy-eyed tagalong comes in with visions of BMW’s, Aspen ski vacations and fancy suits dancing in their heads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We form an orderly line in our desperate attempts to scare the little lamb straight:</div>
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<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>“Save yourself!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Run! Run and don’t look back!”</div>
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<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>“See this twitch in my eye?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d only been practicing law for a couple of weeks when I got it and now I’ll have it for the rest of my life.”</div>
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<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>“All 4 of my ex-wives cite my profession as the main reason that they couldn’t live with me and they hate my profession even more now because it means that I can’t afford to pay them alimony.”</div>
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<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>“Wal-Mart greeters have meaningful lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, yeah, they have to wear those funky-assed vests, but they know the names of their children.”</div>
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<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>“I’m less than half a day’s pay away from having to ride a mule to work.”</div>
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I’ve officially been practicing long enough for younger attorneys to come up to me and say, “I remember you telling me not to go to law school and I wish I’d listened!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also get the folks who bellyache and conveniently forget that I tried to steer them from their stubborn course and that is one of the many reasons why I make written record of the freaky shit that I have to do as an attorney.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Evidence, you see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I’ve had to watch hours of porn on fast forward, I’ve had to wrestle cats, I’ve been chased by ducks, I’ve had a dog try to hump my leg during a deposition, I’ve had a man bring a Glock 22 to a deposition, I’ve had a lady snorting cocaine during a deposition, I’ve had clients come to court drunk as skunks, I’ve been peripherally pepper sprayed, I’ve had to break up fights between people whose knees I came up to...the list could go on for days, but here’s today’s example, boys and belles:</div>
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It started out as the textbook case of why I went to law school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A distraught older man came into the office on an otherwise quiet Friday morning and I could hear in my office from the waiting room that he’d been to several law offices that morning and no lawyers would see him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His problem was that someone was holding the ashes of his dead wife hostage.</div>
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I was going to see the man even before he brought up the thing about his dead wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one (determinably sane) is going to stand in the waiting room of my firm that upset and that maltreated by my profession.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">See above in re craptacular professional reputation.</i>)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I’m not going to lie and say that the possible kidnapping of cremains didn’t push my curiosity right on over the edge.</div>
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I invited the man into my office and to say that he was in a dither is to say that Michael Jackson was a bit quirky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Apparently, his wife’s sister—in what at first appeared to be an effort to help clean up after the funeral service—took the urn containing her sister’s ashes home with her and failed to give said remains back to her sister’s husband (my client) in spite of his repeated requests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the point the gentleman had come to see me, the funeral service had been over for a year—there wasn’t much room for equivocation as to her intent by then.</div>
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My heart broke for the elderly gentleman as he sat there in my office crying and telling me he’d tried to honor his wife by working with the bitch sister from hell, but he wanted the love of his life back with him and it was time to hire another bitch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seriously, this was one of those cases that I went to law school for.</div>
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I wrote a nice letter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wrote a letter in her native bitch language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sued her ass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ha.</div>
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The Clerk ordered that the sister was to deliver her sister’s ashes to my office the next morning.</div>
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I was still in the courtroom riding high on my victory when the clerk who held the hearing came up and said, “Mrs. Council, a word of caution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have seen more of these cases than you would imagine and I caution you to verify that human remains—and more importantly the ashes of your client’s wife—are in the urn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You would be amazed at what people try to substitute for human ashes.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then she just walked away, leaving me standing there like a deer in headlights.</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Excuse the hell out of me?</i></div>
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They most certainly did not teach <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> in law school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Believe me, if I had the stomach for stuff such as that, I would have gone to medical school and I would be writing this blog from my vacation home in Aruba.</div>
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I got on the internet and discovered that teeth don’t burn like the rest of the body, so it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> possible to verify that ashes are, in fact, human remains. (Your science lesson for the day, boys and belles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re welcome.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As to how I was supposed to determine whether or not said ashes were my client’s wife, I had no clue whatsoever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t really think she was going to get up and introduce herself and, if she did, I wouldn’t survive the heart attack to attest to the identity.</div>
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The next morning came a lot sooner than I would have liked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, the next morning came a lot sooner than the entire office would have liked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I go by the rule that, if I suffer, all must follow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The senior partner was conveniently out of the office for the day.</div>
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I brought a pair of my scientist hubby’s lab gloves and showed up to work only to meet the sister’s designated “Bringer of the Remains” standing in the middle of my waiting room holding the urn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still don’t know if he wouldn’t hand them over to anyone but me or if everyone in my office was too chicken to take them from him.</div>
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I liberated the urn from his grasp and took the old gal back to the conference room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The conference room is right next to the desk of one of the most fabulous paralegals you will ever meet and that is one of the many reasons I chose that particular location for my inspection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I bitched loud enough, she would eventually come in and help me.</div>
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I put on my nifty gloves and stared at the urn for a bit. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no getting around it; I had to open the damned thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started to unscrew the top and it wouldn’t come off!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was at that point when I started grumbling and mumbling about not being able to open the urn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fabulous Paralegal (FP) ignored me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I continued to genuinely try to unscrew the lid and stayed on good and tight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started to cuss and FP started giving me pointers from the other room:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Try turning it the other way!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Take off your gloves!”</div>
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Then I just engaged in full on whining:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">FPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t get it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It won’t open!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know what to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dooooooooooo!</i>”</div>
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I heard a little huff and then her chair rolled back from her desk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heeheehee!</div>
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She came into the conference room and, rather than turning the top like I had been doing for the last 5 minutes, she pulled it off and it popped right off releasing a CLOUD.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>OF.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ASH.</div>
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Would you like to know how to inspect human cremains, boys and belles?</div>
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You run around your conference table flapping like a chicken screeching,<strong> “OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I've got dead people in my eyes!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may have just snorted my client’s wife!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Holy shitshitshitshit!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Water!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, spit!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to drink her!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is it sacriligious to spit her?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t help it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thpppt, thpppt, thpppt.</i>”</strong></div>
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Fun fact:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When someone is cremated, the funeral home puts them in a plastic bag with a zip lock and a medallion with their seal and verification of the remains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are apparently just a little sloppy about it—thus the extra ash.</div>
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To top it all off, the one thing I most looked forward to doing was to return my client’s believed wife to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had been so distraught throughout the whole thing and I felt like I finally had one of those rare reassurances in my profession that lawyers can help people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he came into the office, I handed him the urn, he snatched it from my hands, turned around and walked out of my office without so much as a kiss my ass.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I’d like to tender this exhibit to the Court.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-9493214388311817972012-07-19T07:36:00.000-04:002012-07-19T07:36:59.786-04:00Rabid Possums: The Bane of Full Time Motherhood<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
I want to make it perfectly clear that I love my children more that life itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My dad always says that having children is like wearing your heart on your sleeve and he couldn’t be more right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Baby Belles are beautiful, brilliant and loving angels...unless you are with them 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.</div>
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Part of our new situation in Clayton means that the girls and I get to spend the summer together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was really excited about the notion of me and the Baby Bells hanging out all summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were going to have idyllic picnics and fun-but-educational museum explorations and fantastic day trips to the beach.</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sweet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus.</i></div>
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They fight like rabid possums.</div>
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I was not prepared for this animosity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brother and I got along swimmingly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know what to do.</div>
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I’ve tried rationalizing and I don’t know why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of my biggest pet peeves is those mothers who talk to their screaming children in those voices like they’re trying to diffuse a hostage situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> We've all seen it: </span>Precious is gnashing and flailing and screaming and is so past DEFCON 1 that the nukes are already in flight, still mother thinks that she can somehow reason with her Bob Ross “Happy Little Trees” voice. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Take Precious out of the damn building and let everyone else enjoy a little sanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t give a crap if or how you discipline her when you get her out there—it’s not about her—it’s about being respectful to others.</div>
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Nonetheless, I’ve found myself employing the Happy Little Trees from time to time during one clash of the Belles or another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I certainly don’t do it in public because<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> I </i>am well bred and respectful, but there are times when I am fool enough to think that I see teaching opportunities at home:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Belle 2, your sister just wants a little bit of alone time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know how sometimes you get grouchy and you don’t really want to be around anyone?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Belle 1, I didn’t necessarily mean that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> were grouchy, I was just using an example that Belle 2 could relate to—Belle 2, there was no reason in this world for you to hit your sister over the head—Belle 1, just because she did it doesn’t mean that you can punch—EVERYBODY IN TIME OUT!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>PICK A CORNER!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>OH GREAT, GO FIGURE YOU WOULD BOTH PICK THE SAME CORNER AND FIGHT OVER IT!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MOTHER—MM—PFF—WW—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">TRUCKER!!!”</i></div>
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I can also completely forget about concentrating on a particular task for more that 5 seconds at a time because the little boogers will tattle like nothing you have ever seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sometimes wonder if they are practicing for the Witness Protection Program.</div>
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The other day I was staring in abject mystification at my damn Dyson vacuum cleaner (full time mommyhood also means the loss of the cleaning lady) and I was wondering if I was supposed to clean my floors with the damned thing or if it became a Transformer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I was hunting in earnest for the “Start” button, Baby Belle 2 came up and said, “Mamaaaaaa, Baby Belle 1’s not letting me look at the movie she’s watching on Daddy’s iPad.”</div>
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Still looking for the Start button, “Tell her I said to let you watch it, too.”</div>
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Baby Belle 1 comes up, “Mamaaaaaa, I can’t watch the movie in peace and quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby Belle 2 keeps asking all of these questions about what’s going on in the movie.”</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shouldn’t a fucking start button say “Start?”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><em>Did the sadistic bastards hide it somewhere?</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><em> </em> </span>“Well, just answer her questions unless it’s an inappropriate movie and if it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> inappropriate movie, switch it because it probably isn’t something that you should be watching either.”</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Mooooooom—“</i></div>
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“Cut me some slack, Gremlin!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m 39 years old, I have a graduate’s degree and I can’t start a vacuum cleaner!”</div>
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She reaches right over and touches this thing that doesn’t look like any sort of a button I’ve ever seen before and the confounding Rubik’s Cube of domesticity cranks right up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I appreciate that, but it won’t cut you any slack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You and your sister quit ratting each other out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t be able to hear you over the vacuum anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, but before you go, how do you make that bottom part go down on the floor so you can—ah, thanks.”</div>
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Naturally—being a lawyer and all—I’m not above a little bribery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are days that are so rotten in the sibling department that I have no choice but to throw a little enticement into the arena if I have any hope of sparing what little sanity I have left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know, the whole “If You’re Good, Mama Will Let You” thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The part that really sucks is that you have to be able to follow through if the little buzzards don’t comply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, you really wanted to see that movie, but Baby Belle 2 wouldn’t quit pointing her butt at Baby Belle 1’s face...</div>
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Of course, the most daring bit of sibling rivalry management I have ever heard of comes from—hands down—the best mother I have ever had the privilege of knowing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It just goes to show, it doesn’t matter how wonderful a parent you are, kids are still kids and brothers and sisters are going to fight.</div>
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My friend also happens to have 2 girls about the age of my Baby Belles, but her girls are 2 years apart while mine are 4.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was getting ready for her youngest child’s birthday party at her house and the kids were going at it non-stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kids were tattling and nit-picking and it didn’t matter what my friend said or did, it was only getting worse and worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Finally, my friend reached her boiling point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She took the girls and put them in the middle of the kitchen and said, “Okay, you have one minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Punch it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No face shots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go!” </div>
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Well, once the girls got over the shock of their mother telling them to duke it out, they did just that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(It bears repeating that her husband was right outside on the porch and heard what was going on, but he was afraid to go inside.)</div>
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When their minute was up, the spent sisters were forced to sit across from each other on the floor of the den and take turns telling each other things they loved about their sister for one whole hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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My only fear is that, if I tried that approach, there would be nothing left for the second portion of the program. Bless my sweet little things.</div>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-4119240752432340882012-07-17T17:03:00.000-04:002012-07-17T17:03:34.729-04:00Crimlympics 24/7<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
Here come the Summer Olympics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time to give myself the speech:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ashley, you’re all about world peace and shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Olympics are the only time that countries come together and put up any sort of front in the way of global unity (in a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nice</i> way—not when they’ve all decided to get together and bomb the snot out of one particular country).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, the games are as boring and confounding as your Jurisprudence class in law school, but you should at least make an effort and watch them”</div>
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Crap almighty.</div>
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Maybe it’s bad television coverage, but it’s just such a mishmash of stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always seem to come in on the middle of whatever is going on and I rarely know what in the hell I’m looking at—particularly if it involves track and field.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find myself getting pissed at what they call the “Cinderella Stories” because they always pick some well fed American kid whose town sold donuts to support his training and buy him the ticket to London while ignoring the Namibian kid whose parents were mauled by lions and whose one remaining sibling sold his left kidney on the black market to get him to the games.</div>
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I also fantasize about beating the poo out of the parents who let their daughters become irretrievably malformed for a few good years of gymnastics while conveniently forgetting that their kids have to live the rest of their lives like...that.</div>
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Let’s not forget that overblown Olympics theme music played at every possible moment by NBC.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It only takes about one commercial break and I am ready to stab my ears with forks.</div>
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If I’m being honest, the aforementioned reasons are all perfectly valid, but the main reason that the Olympics don’t really crank my tractor is that I have all that and more in living color right outside my office window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks to the criminal activity spurred by the malt beverages sold at the Mount Olive Deli and Grocery (although he thankfully doesn’t operate a deli as the sign suggests) and the adjoining Bicentennial Park where such malt beverages and every other mind altering substance known to man is consumed, I have the Crimlympics 24 hours a day, 365 days a year right outside the window of my office.</div>
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Let’s begin, shall we?</div>
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Of course, Track and Field is a given.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve always said that there is no point whatsoever in running unless there is an axe murderer behind you...or ...you are being chased by a gang member or a drug dealer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You thought I was going to say the police didn’t you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everevereverever</i> run from a cop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They hate it when you make them work for it and it guarantees that your lawyer extraordinaire won’t be able to get them on board for a deal when it comes down to a plea in court.</div>
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Actually, the cops are more or less bound by law not to completely render your body impossible for identification purposes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those little Olympic dudes all decked out in their too-short shorts as they line up nice and pretty on a track field got nuthin’ on someone running from a gang or a dealer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If one of those guys catches you, squirrels will be storing your teeth with their acorn stashes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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The Olympian runners can’t really help it; there’s nothing more inspiring than an all-out sprint for dear life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have seen such sprints in bare feet, sprints with one shoe off and one shoe on, sprints in high heels (interestingly worn by a man), clothed, half clothed...the list goes on...</div>
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What next?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well the best example I’ve ever seen is a combination event:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shot put and gymnastics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This couple was adorable and I call them George and Tammy (after George Jones and Tammy Wynette—and if you don’t get the connection Google away).</div>
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George apparently loved the hooch and Tammy had him on a tight leash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know if Tammy had to leave for a bit or if she wasn’t paying attention, but George got out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where did George go?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Straight to the closest malt beverage emporium:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Mount Olive Deli and Grocery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like to think that he saw it bathed in a heavenly light while being serenaded by a chorus of angels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George shuffled right on in for a fix.</div>
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In the meantime, Tammy discovered that her man left the building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through her amazing powers of deduction, Tammy also figured out where George went to get his groceries because lo and behold, when George came out with his nice tall can of King Cobra, Tammy was waiting for him on the sidewalk impatiently tapping her pretty pink bedroom slippers with her arms crossed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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George was in deep poo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man had been caught red handed, but like all addicted individuals, he was still going to do his damndest to bluff his way out of the situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Accordingly George and Tammy had a fine argument that resulted in a lot of arm flailing for Tammy and a lot of protective beer cradling for George.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, George was not protective enough because Tammy got hold of the hooch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess she figured that it would take too long to crack it open and pour it out (George might get to it and salvage the remains), so she took that 24 ounce can and hurled it slap onto the roof of the grocery store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tammy was a little bitty thing and her performance beat the tar our of any shot put mess I’ve seen ever on the Olympics.</div>
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Of course, George wasn’t going to go down without a swallow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m guessing that he spent all the money he had on the can that went sailing onto the roof or he would have just gone back inside and bought another while dragging Tammy as she clung to his legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, George performed an amazing feat of gymnastics that I can only liken to a combination vault/uneven bars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a fence on the side of the store that is about 6 feet high and I would guess that it stands about 2 or 3 feet from the side of the store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good ‘ol George—in sandals <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> with the D.T.’s no less—got up to a running start, vaulted onto the fence and propelled himself to the roof of the store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never would have thought he had it in him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>George sat up there and drank his beer unmolested by Tammy and tuned her out until someone else eventually got fed up and called the police on her for disturbing the peace.</div>
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No, I do not know how George got off the roof.</div>
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Finally, boys and belles, we come to the closing ceremonies of the Crimplypics:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Diving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, Bicentennial Park doesn’t have a pool or a fountain or anything like that, but it’s the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lack</i> of a water source that makes the diving so spectacular.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Alas and alack, our fair athlete was running from the police.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really, I don’t want to beat a dead horse here, but <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">KNOCK IT OFF, YOU DUMBASSES!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></b>Anyway, I could tell that something was going on because the police cars started circling the block like sharks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They don’t normally make appearances in our neck of the woods unless something has actually happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly, the shark circling got a little more restless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I saw the Olympian running down the street at Mach 2 with about 2 or 3 cops in foot pursuit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before I could seriously contemplate going out on the front porch to yell at the man for the fallacy of his resisting arrest, the man took off as smoothly as if on wings, kept his form as straight as an arrow and dove slap into the dumpster being used futilely for park cleanup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the most graceful and proud dumpster dive that I have ever seen in my entire life (and I am sad to say that I have seen more than my fair share).</div>
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Sadly, the police apprehended the Bicentennial Park Diver—I can only surmise that the Diver believed he had more of a lead on the cops than he actually did and thought that he could hang out in the dumpster until they ran past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d like to think that Greg Louganis himself would have been so impressed with the man’s obvious talent that he would have lent one of his own gold medals to the occasion, alas all our diver had to show for his effort was clinging Slim Jim wrappers and the unmistakable odor of Mad Dog 20/20.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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So there you have it, boys and belles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gasp!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve just come to a possibly unpleasant realization about myself!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe the real Olympics are too squeaky clean!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do I need guns, drugs, cops and domestic disputes if my attention is going to fixate on something for more than 1 minute?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh look, my minute’s up...<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></b></div>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-36003907703547369042012-07-13T07:21:00.002-04:002012-07-13T07:24:55.977-04:00It's Not My Fault That Everyone's an Asshole<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
I do so try to be good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really.</div>
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Alas and alack, there are two rather invincible forces working against any hopes of angel promotion:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a lawyer and I am a Culbreth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We take no prisoners and we are damned cunning about it.</div>
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First with the cunning:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were doing just fine until they started to actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">enforce</i> that stupid-assed tardy policy at Baby Belle 1’s school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For kindergarten and first grade, a parent had prayers, the Pledge and a grace period in between to drop their kid off without penalty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, no penalty of any sort was ever addressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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So imagine a parent’s dismay when, lo and behold in their child’s second grade year, they started getting all uptight about getting your kid to school before lunchtime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once a period was put to the “liberty and justice for all” in the Pledge, your ass was grass in the tardy department.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What was the penalty?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three tardies in a quarter warranted a silent lunch.</div>
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I vaguely recall silent lunches from my elementary school days and I don’t remember them as being particularly horrible, but I’m an introvert so a silent lunch wouldn’t be all that daunting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, for a straight arrow and social butterfly such as my daughter, it presented hell on earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Then came the inevitable day when the alarm clock was accidentally set for PM instead of AM, Baby Belle 2 was being particularly uncooperative, the damn Chihuahua decided to make a break for the border, [insert crisis here] and it seemed that the Devil himself was just doing what he could to keep us away from that little Catholic school downtown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby Belle 1 started to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">seriously</i> freak out about being late and I was suddenly struck with some less than divine inspiration.</div>
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I looked at my firstborn and told her that she should never, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever</i> do what her mama was about to do and that it wouldn’t do her any favors to tell others about it either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got on the phone, called the school office and told them that I forgot about Baby Belle 1’s dentist appointment and that she was going to be a little late to school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Excused tardy.</div>
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On a couple of occasions throughout the year, Baby Belle 1 had various “appointments” when the need arose and I even bought some of those stickers that they hand out at the doctor and the dentist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When things started to go south as we rushed around in the mornings, Baby Belle would look over at me and say, “Mama, am I going to have a doctor appointment this morning?”</div>
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Now for the evil:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neighbors. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oy vey.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you get good neighbors, it is something more precious than gold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you get crap neighbors...well...you start to get that whole thing between the Hatfields and the McKoys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve had good luck and we’ve had really, really shitty luck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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The thing is, as the years go on, I am less and less willing to let things go with my crappy neighbors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve had neighbors whose kids hid their pot stash under the hedges of our bedroom window, we’ve had “clothing challenged” individuals who gave their boats X-rated names and parked them prominently in the driveway that we shared, we’ve had cheapskates, we’ve had Grizzly Adams survivalists...I could go on for days.</div>
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When I was pregnant with Baby Belle 2, a new family moved in behind us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were a couple about our age with two young children and another on the way who was due at about the same time as I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Scott and I saw them walking on the street one day and we stopped to introduce ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I tried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Granted, I don’t do the whole “meeting new people” thing well, but I thought, “Here’s a remarkable opportunity!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can bond with this woman!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are pregnant at the same time for God’s sake!”</div>
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I put myself out there, “So, when are you due?”</div>
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Eye roll and very put upon tone of voice, “Can’t be soon enough.”</div>
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Conspiratorial laugh, “I know exactly what you mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, your son and daughter are adorable.”</div>
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“I know.”</div>
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<em>Okaaaaay</em>, “Well, I only have one kid and I can’t imagine having two at this point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You look wonderful.”</div>
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“Yes, yes. Honey, the kids are getting restless because we've stopped.”</div>
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Fuck you, bitch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Bye now!”</div>
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That was about three years ago and I haven’t laid eyes on the cow or her progeny since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would like to say that I haven’t laid eyes on her mate either, but alas and alack (again).</div>
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I get migraines and there are several triggers:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stress, light and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">smell</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will flat vomit in the Yankee Candle Company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we did our stint beside Grizzly Adams, he was nice enough, but I swear that he was a total pyro.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He burned everything and he burned it right up next to the property line he shared with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Total migraine city for Ashley.</div>
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One of the many reasons for Ashley’s Happy Dance when we moved into the city limits was that I was no longer subjected to burning yard trash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nope, everybody had to pay unfair amounts of tax money to get their crap hauled off to God knew where.</div>
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Now take a moment to imagine Ashley’s deep dismay when I was sitting in my breakfast room (<em>well inside</em> the city limits) and the unmistakable smell of burning yard crapola wafted by my nostrils.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Oh hell no.</div>
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The smell was coming from a burning pile in the yard of our back yard neighbors.</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh hellllllllllll no.</i></div>
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Scott paid a friendly public service call to said neighbor’s back yard and gently reminded said neighbor that it was illegal to burn trash in the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Scott mentioned that the only reason he was saying anything was because his wife got migraines and his daughter had asthma problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The neighbor replied (in fluent Asshole) that he was just having a little fire with his son and that Scott could just go home and mind his own business.</div>
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Guess what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next weekend, Neighbor Extraordinaire had a bigger and badder i<em>llegal</em> fire and I decided that it was time to fight fire with bitch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I called 911.</div>
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“Oh my God!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My neighbor’s back yard <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">IS ON FIRE!!!!!”</i></div>
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Those nice firemen sprayed that nifty foam all over his back yard. I think there's a fine for doing that sort of thing, too. Ouch. </div>
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Maybe it’s not me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe I could be a better person but for all of the rules and the assholes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess we’ll never find out.</div>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-84436936858523968752012-07-12T08:30:00.001-04:002012-07-12T08:30:09.971-04:00Holy Crap, Here We Go!!!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
It’s been a long time, boys and belles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would love to blame all-consuming family needs, ridiculous work demands and the other pressing and various inescapable requirements that it takes to simply cope with living and functioning in the twenty-first century—so I will.</div>
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First let me say that I don’t do well with change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of my amazing and fabulous sister-in-law’s job requirements is to administer that Carl Jungian monster of a personality test to corporate employees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I refuse to take it for her because I was forced to take it when I began college for roommate compatibility and I got so insanely bored with the redundant and never-ending questions that I started making patterns with the bubble answer sheet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nonetheless, her years of expertise still have me blowing the roof off in the temperament normally reserved for those in the ranks of the military.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guess what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Colin Powell and I get pissy when our routines are messed with.</div>
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So, bear the aforementioned in mind as I tell you that my darling dear husband was terribly, horribly, unbearably (get out your thesaurus and find as many adjectives as you can) miserable at his job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">“Tough Shit!” you say, “He should be on his knees and grateful that he has a job in this economy!”</li>
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">A.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>First off, I admit that the atmosphere at that place was toxic. It was as bad as a reality show as to who was going to get fired for no particular reason next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inexplicably insane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were also working him to death for pennies and no appreciation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Secondly, I’m sure you’ve heard the term, “If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, that goes double for daddies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man brought it home with him so bad that it got to the point, when I heard the Suburban pull up in the driveway, I would say a little prayer in my head:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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“Dear Lord, please guide your servant, Ashley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please help her to continue to use those big ‘ol heavy cooking pans for their intended purpose of cooking and not for the deep, deep, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">deeeeeeeep</i> satisfaction of knocking him upside the head with one as he finds something to criticize the second he walks through the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please restrain her hands from...um...<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">spicing</i> his food with pharmaceuticals so that he will just go on and go to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please help her to remember that, somewhere in there is the man she married, but she can’t find him by physically reaching down his throat to pull him out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amen.</div>
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify;">“Fine,” you say, “your husband has a crappy job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Find another one.”</li>
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<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">A.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Sha-ha!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish! I followed my mother’s advice to the letter: “Ashley, it’s perfectly fine to go to Chapel Hill, but when it comes to finding a husband, you need to hang around the libraries at State and Duke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Get you a State Engineer or a Duke Doctor so you end up with someone who can earn a living.”</div>
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Like I could possibly live with anyone who went to Duke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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My beloved has a degree in mechanical engineering from N.C. State.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s go over Wilmington employment opportunities for a moment, shall we?</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>*Food Servers</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>*The Aspiring (unpaid) Movie Extra</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>*Hotel Management</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>*Hotel Janitorial Services</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>*Hotel Recreation Specialists (Hookers)</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>*Pot Dealers</div>
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Things came to an intolerable boil and my love felt he had no choice but to look outside of the Wilmington area for employment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seeing as those damn frying pans were looking better and better every night, I agreed. </div>
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The man went to some really scary places.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His first interview was in Indiana and I told him that would be a bitch of a commute because I wasn’t stepping out of the Great State of North Carolina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was one in Charlotte (which I don’t particularly count as North Carolina, but debate if you must) and I have never been to Charlotte when I haven’t gotten lost and ended up in some seriously scary “gritty police drama set locations.”</div>
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Then the man got an excellent job offer with a company he really liked near Clayton, North Carolina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were familiar with the area and we had dear friends and family close by as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a really big decision on our plate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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AND THEN CAME THE FATEFUL CONVERSATION IN THE KITCHEN.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was after work and I hadn’t had a particularly stellar day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’d rehashed and done the pro and con list to death about the job offer and Darling Dear picked it up again while I was in the kitchen trying to get the Baby Belle’s dinner put together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was earnestly listing the good and bad points and I was pretty much grunting in response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He finally asked me, “Ashley, what do <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> want?” </div>
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Well, that did it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My frustration with my bad day and my frustration with...well...everything came up and I turned around and held forth:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Scott, it doesn’t matter!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can be miserable here and I can be miserable in Clayton!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t particularly matter one way or the other to me!”</div>
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Rather than come back with a zinger, Scott just leaned forward and said, “Yes it does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">want</i>.”</div>
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I figured I might as well go for it:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I want to write.”</div>
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Scott replied, “Okay.”</div>
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Well that just took the wind right out of my sails.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a good thirty to forty-five minutes of fight locked and loaded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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So, boys and belles, here I sit in Clayton, North Carolina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t fret, I’m still an attorney.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve wanted to be an attorney since the pacifier came out and I could argue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still come to Wilmington and practice, but my husband afforded me the gift of indulging in my passion and I intend to take advantage <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">big time</i>.</div>
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I’ve actually written two books in what will be a three book series of humorous fiction entitled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Chronicles of Beatrice Beaufort:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rogue Southern Belle</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m also thinking about publishing this blog with new material.</div>
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Maybe I can handle change after all. We’ll see...</div>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-16714219146523198002011-11-07T08:48:00.000-05:002011-11-07T08:48:05.629-05:00A Southern Belle for President!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I used to be crazy enough to think that I wanted to go into politics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I’m still several cards short of a full deck, but I am completely disabused of the notion that I want to dip so much as one pinky toe into the political arena.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, let’s just say that I graduated from junior high school a long time ago and I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to go back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think about it:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Raging hormones, cliques, bullying and the rebellious refusal to do anything productive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are one and the same.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Pubescent Teenager:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“M<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">oooooooooo</i>m!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just made it to level 9,374,534 on Zombie Hooker Killers!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll do my homework l<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">aaaaaaaaaaaa</i>ter!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Pubescent Politician:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Constitu<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">eeeeeeeeeeeeeee</i>nts!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, we have soldiers dying overseas while their families starve to death at home, but Obama might have been born in Kenya, his wallet might be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">brown</i> when he said it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">blue</i> and we need to investigate the use of steroids in the NFL!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and pay no attention to the girl wearing pasties and a g-string in the corner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s a lobbyist for a....um...arts and dancing program.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I’m a Democrat, but I didn’t accept Obama as my lord and savior like many of my brethren did in ’08.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was too much wrong with the country that a lot of flash and very little substance couldn’t cure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, many of those same brethren are very disillusioned and I’m just shaking my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, McCain didn’t crank my tractor either.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">What’s really got me frigging terrified this year is the current state of affairs in the Republican Primary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One usually expects the Democrats to hold a three-ring circus because that’s just how we roll, but the GOP usually puts up a nearly identical row of expensive suits, starched shirts, fabulously moussed hair and blinding smiles that do nothing to warm otherwise constipated expressions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year, we have Mr. Godfather’s Pizza who may or may not be able to keep his pepperoni to himself, a governor who would likely legalize execution for jaywalking if given half the chance and a man named for an amphibian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lord have mercy.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Now, I don’t want to be one of those irritable people who bitches and moans endlessly without any solution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, I’m not going to go so far as to say that I have a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">solution</i>, but I do have a thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Upon careful reflection, I believe that we might benefit from putting a Southern Belle in office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think about the main talking points in this train wreck we call an election:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Crime and terrorism, the economy and foreign relations.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Those of you who even have to question a Southern Belle’s ability to be tough on crime are too stupid to live and you will be taken out by the tenets of Darwinism in short order anyway. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As for the rest of you, I’m going to tell you two stories:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(1)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Once upon a time, there was a Southern Belle who stayed at home and ran the plantation while her husband traveled to the capital to serve his elected post in the Senate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The husband enjoyed himself tremendously while he was away and that enjoyment included many a rendezvous with more than one woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, word of her husband’s debauchery got back to our Southern Belle and, by the time her puffed up peacock of a husband returned home, our Southern Belle had hired a personal militia to defend <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her</i> plantation against his return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Senator Hound Dog was forced to make permanent living arrangements in the capital city.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(2)<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Once upon a time, there was a Southern Belle who was married to a tee total bastard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wasn’t dumb enough as to be physically abusive, but a kind word never came from his lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The years wore on and the Southern Belle continued to put up with the venom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day came when the son of a bitch had to have an operation that was going to cause him to be on his back for a very significant period of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Southern Belle got the upstairs bedroom all fixed up for his sour ass and got him all tucked in when he came home from the hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he got hungry and demanded food, the Southern Belle fixed a beautiful plate and set it at the bottom of the stairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She then told her asshole of a husband that he could crawl down and get it and that he should get used to it because that was how his meals would be served for the foreseeable future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(V.V., I hope I got this mostly right.)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">The terrorists won’t know what hit them.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">As far as the economy goes, have you ever seen a Southern Belle snap into action when extra people show up at a party?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the moment we can manage a pot holder and a trivet, Southern Belles are trained to deal with those inevitably uncouth individuals who fail to RSVP or “tag along” to a social event.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve seen parties where as many as 30 to 50 extra people show up, the Belle hostess never bats an eye and everyone is more than adequately fed and watered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s like the loaves and the fishes story in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Bible. </i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">See?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hungry masses fed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Of course, jobs are the other factor in the economy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I have to say to that is:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Junior League.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, there’s also the Hospital Auxiliary, the Church Guild, Daughters of the Confederacy and all sorts of other groups.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What these groups teach the Southern Belle is the art of precision delegation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a job for everyone and It.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Assigned.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Unemployment?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tootles. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Now, what foreign relations calls for is diplomacy and diplomacy is really just international etiquette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who better than a Southern Belle to go global with manners?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank the good Lord that United States has gotten out of its chest thumping stage, but we’ve still got a long way to go in shaking all of the dirt off of our image and no one’s better than at cleaning house than a Southern Belle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heck, you’d be amazed at what evidencing concern for someone other than yourself and the occasional thank-you note can do.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Foreign relations?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thankyouverymuch.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Let’s face it:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re in a mess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The folks that we trusted to clean up the mess are piddling around and fighting like little junior high school cliques over less than nothing while the wolf is tearing down the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think it might be time to kick ass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It might be time for a Southern Belle.</div>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-5345971403457153882011-10-31T17:08:00.002-04:002011-10-31T17:08:53.439-04:00The Little Pumpkin That Could<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">There is no denying that holidays are social occasions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From New Year’s to St. Pat’s to Fourth of July to Christmas—folks get together to eat and drink entirely too much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Parties, parties, parties!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In order to throw the aforementioned “parties, parties, parties!” one’s house must be decorated to the nines for said occasion.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Not only is a Southern Belle required to rise to the challenge of any and every social event, she should delight in the opportunity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a house in my neighborhood with a very large bay window and the lady that lives in the house decorates the window for every single holiday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Single.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Holiday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no doubt that, if I actually went inside the house, I would have feelings of inadequacy so crushing that I would be forced to my knees to genuflect before Oleander Estates’ very own Martha Stewart.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">As you well know, I am a Southern Belle, but I have issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be perfectly frank, I have more issues than <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">National Geographic</i>, but I muddle along as best I can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am an introvert and, although I may appear to be a witty conversationalist on paper, I choke in person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also don’t like clutter and I don’t particularly like making work for myself, so hauling out a bunch of seasonally appropriate stuff to strew across the house only to have to pack it all up a short time later is not my idea of a good time, but I have children and I do the best I can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I am also slack as hell as I will illustrate in this little story:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">In January of this year, I was sitting in the den and coloring with the Baby Belles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I happened to look up at the mantel and lo and behold there was a jack o’ lantern staring down at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a decorative pottery thingamajig that was about the size of a softball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t as surprised that I missed it when taking down Halloween decorations as I was that I missed it when putting up <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> taking down Christmas decorations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was furthermore surprised that my mechanical engineer husband—who has an attention for detail so sharp that it can completely drive me up the wall at times—missed it as well (actually, that part was a little gratifying).</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Huh,</i> I thought to myself, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’ll grab it and shove it in the closet later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t feel like messing with it right now.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">In March of this year, I was sitting in the den and holding a pitifully feverish Baby Belle 2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were watching <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Barney</i> for about the 4,637<sup>th</sup> time and I was looking around for things to either occupy myself or stab myself in the eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I happened to look up at the mantel and lo and behold there was a jack o’ lantern staring down at me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Huh, </i>I thought to myself, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">well I certainly can’t get it right now. </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If I get Punkin down for a nap, I’ll grab it and put it up.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">In June of this year, we were getting ready to go to the beach and I was looking for my sunglasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I am looking for something, it is not a small undertaking:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have found my cell phone in the refrigerator, my car keys in the dog bed and one of a pair of extraordinarily expensive shoes in the garage (the little hands around my house can be so helpful).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ran into the den, happened to look over at the mantel and lo and behold there was a jack o’ lantern staring down at me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh for Heaven’s sake,</i> I thought to myself, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this is getting plum ridiculous, but Scott and the kids are waiting in the car and I don’t have time to mess with the damned thing right now.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I will admit that, when I got in the car to go to the beach, I mentioned our little “Pumpkin Situation” to Scott and he snorted.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">In August of this year, I was sprawled out in the den sweating like a turkey before Thanksgiving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had actually just come back from another beach trip and I was taking a moment before hauling my butt upstairs to get in the shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I happened to glance up and the mantel and lo and behold there was a jack o’ lantern staring down at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Christ Almighty, </i>I thought to myself, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I am the slackest person in the history of the world. </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I actually moved one leg off of the ottoman as if to stand up when a thought occurred to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t a thought that I am particularly proud of, but it was a thought nonetheless:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Well hell, I’ve left the thing up all year, it’s practically October now.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">So there I was:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the end of September and I was standing with a group of moms at Baby Belle 1’s school, commiserating about the suddenness of the impending holidays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of the ladies were saying that it felt as though they’d just taken their Christmas decorations down and it was nearly time to put them up already!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I couldn’t help it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was terrible, but I never, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever</i> get to be the one to say it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I smiled (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">maybe</i> a little bit smugly) and said, “At least I’m decorated for Halloween!”</div>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-86333082281072857692011-09-30T08:59:00.002-04:002011-09-30T09:25:59.989-04:00Courtroom Zombies<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Not so very long ago, I was desperately bored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Accordingly, I took some random multiple choice Facebook quiz rating my chances of surviving a zombie holocaust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t remember what the questions were, but suffice it to say that my scores indicated I would be tasty zombie tidbits less than half an hour after the outbreak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I’ve never tested well.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">You might not believe this, but I actually kinda like zombie movies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not into the squishy guts and gore at all, but they are chock full of such hilarious irony and cynicism that even the most squeamish have to appreciate them a little bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Zombieland </i>is great fun and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shaun of the Dead</i> has me rolling in laughter every single time I see it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Anyway, the more I thought about it, the more offended I became about my “kibbles and bits” score on the zombie test.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I deal with the honest-to-God living dead nearly every single day of my life and I do a damned good job of it if I do say so myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you think that the moaning, blank-faced masses shambling aimlessly day in and day out in the halls of the New Hanover County Courthouse aren’t a scene pulled directly from a George Romero movie, then you need to grow a pair and have a zombie movie marathon weekend.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">First off, zombies aren’t the most coordinated folks on the planet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They tend to lope and shuffle more than run and walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hero and/or heroine in the zombie has to do a lot of tripping over tombstones or get caught amongst a crowd of the living dead in order to meet their doom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Lack of coordination could also be hung upon folks having their first appearances on Monday morning after their getaway weekend in the drunk tank at the County Jail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, leg shackles could make anyone do the zombie shuffle, but the bailiffs don’t do that so much anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be perfectly frank, their “guests” are so pickled that they don’t have to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For first appearances, an inmate is brought into the courtroom from the holding cell in the back hall and is placed into the penalty box in the courtroom to wait until the judge calls their name.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">When it’s their turn for first appearance, the court zombies get up and walk over to the bench with the bailiff behind them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you think that the bailiff is there to keep them from taking off?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eh, partly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mostly</i>, the bailiff is there to keep them from weaving drunkenly into tables and falling down and hitting their soused noggins.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Once, a court zombie was brought in front of the bench for a first appearance and his big weekend with the pub crawls was giving him a serious problem with his equilibrium.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While the judge was talking to him about his charges and what he wanted to do about representation, the zombie kept leaning to the side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The zombie’s legs weren’t bending or anything;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he was like a fence post that wasn’t set up right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every time he started to tilt, the bailiff would silently reach out, grab him and set him back up straight and the judge continued on as usual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the judge stopped and asked the zombie if he had any questions, the zombie said, “Your Honor, you’re making me sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You gotta stop and stay still.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Can I just take a minute here and say that bailiffs are saints among men?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Anyway,</i> another classic marker of the zombie movies is the moaning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh how the zombies love to moan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, when it comes to the movies, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thank God </i>the zombies do love to moan, because they can’t exactly sneak up on you with all that caterwauling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When it comes to the courthouse zombies...oh the things I would do to shut them up.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Unfortunately, our courthouse zombies can be just as unintelligible as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Night of the Living Dead </i>zombies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One trick is that each attorney has a specialty when it comes to communication.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For example, I interpret “Irate Old Man” and I am often called upon by my peers to translate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a pinch, I can help with “Irate Old Woman,” but the cadence is fast and it can be a little tricky, plus it depends if they are wearing their teeth or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I typically need assistance with “Teenagers in Gangs” and “Currently Tweaking Meth Addicts.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, CTMA’s are a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">doozy.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Last, but certainly not least:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zombies—be they actual or courthouse—stink to high Heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure I don’t need to go into the particulars of why actual zombies stink and I probably don’t need to delve into the washing habits (or lack thereof) of courthouse zombies, but I do have a few tales to tell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">There once was a fellow—and I feel the need to preface that he wasn’t homeless—who was a return customer of our law firm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This gentleman loved, I mean tee totally <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">loved</i> to drink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Consequently, said gentleman would butt heads with the law frequently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thing was that the guy smelled horrible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s hard to convey the level of badness, but it was stale drunk smell combined with new alcohol smell thrown together with “I haven’t washed since Nixon was in office” smell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guy would come into the office to drop off his latest citation and, even though he was only in the office for less than a few minutes, we would entertain the idea of moving every single time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Febreeze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>World.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">The gentlemen passed away a few years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hoped that someone got close enough to check his pulse and that they didn’t rely on the stench alone.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I was in court in Jacksonville not too terribly long ago when a lady came from the cell for a first appearance for what appeared to be one hell of a weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Half of her hair was shaved and the other half of it was dyed a questionable purple and was sticking out in about nine different directions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those of us that work at the courthouse are used to the stale booze smell—God knows we don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love</i> it, but we are used to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This dear girl didn’t smell stale in the least.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a matter of fact, if someone lit a match, all of us could well have been goners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will futhermore add that the Purple People Eater’s special scent hit several rows away.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Now, the rule is that inebriated people don’t come to court.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a matter of fact, the enforcers of said rule are the bailiffs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s one thing when the bailiff drags a drunkard out of the audience for a contempt hearing before the bench, but imagine His Honor’s consternation when the bailiff brings what appears to be a lit <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">inmate</i> before him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As you can imagine, the judge had a few words to say to the bailiff about his actions and the poor fella replied, “Your Honor, I swear to you that she’s been in all weekend on a 72-hour domestic violence hold and she hasn’t had a drop to drink.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Bring it on, Romero.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On. </span>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-30851861543154921602011-09-15T08:33:00.000-04:002011-09-15T08:33:52.974-04:00Counselor Communications [Snort]<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">We lawyers are some weird cats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It takes some mentally scrambled folks to willingly undergo the torture of law school and the Bar Exam just to graduate to suffer still more abuse from unappreciative clients and anyone else who feels like taking a shot at the perceived “bottom feeders of Society.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">You’ve heard me talk plenty about how attorneys interact with their clients, but those conversations sound like little old ladies at a tea party when compared to how attorneys talk to each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I’m not exactly a bra burning feminist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I certainly believe that women should be given an equal playing field with equal reward, but I do like having a door opened for me on occasion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Above all—as in most of my pursuits—I just try to keep a sense of humor about it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, when I was a fresh young attorney making my way through the courthouse, I decided not to blow my stack over this slick lawyer dude who persisted in calling me “sugar,” “baby,” “honey,” “darling,” “dear” and any variation, hyphenation or combination of the same.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">No, I figured if it was good enough for me, it was good enough for him, so I started calling him “babe,” “cupcake,” “sweetie pie,” and “pet” and any variation, hyphenation or combination of the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did my reciprocity shock our fair gentleman attorney and shame him into appropriate deportment?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Are you on crack?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Ten years later, we’re still at it and it’s getting more creative by the minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think at our last parting, I was the “pulse in his veins” and he was the “fire on my lips.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Conversely, I have a slightly...um...<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">different</i> tradition with a female lawyer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, many, many moons ago when I was moist behind the ears, I was standing behind a lady in the line of attorneys waiting to talk to the ADA in courtroom 317.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was talking to someone about how she had just gotten off the phone with her client and he had blown her out for the double offense of waking him up with her telephone call <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> expecting him to be in court for his drug charge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sighed in resignation and said rather sarcastically, “I guess I’m just a bitch for expecting so much from people.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">It probably won’t surprise you when I tell you that—being a somewhat sarcastic individual myself—my antennae perked up when I heard her tone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s always nice to make friends with another smartass so that there’s at least one more person on the planet who gets your sense of humor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Accordingly, I snorted and said, “Yeah, that was kind of a bitch move.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Miss Sarcastic turned around and I saw the twinkle in her eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She cracked a half smile and said, “And I bet you would know, wouldn’t you?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">“As a matter of fact, I have a Ph.D. in Bitchology.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">The half smile turned in to a full smile as she held out her hand, introduced herself and added, “It’s always nice to meet a kindred spirit.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I think our initial meeting was the last time we called each other by our given names.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since then, when we pass in the hall, it’s:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">“Hi, Bitch!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">“Hi, Bitch!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">-or-</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">“Howdy, Hag!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">“Whassup, Cow?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">...or some variation on the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are many greetings that I can’t repeat to you sensitive souls lest you collapse in fits of vapors.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Then there are the Cheesemeisters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really don’t know what their deal is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These folks love to spout trite phrases or steal movie quotes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have yet to determine if these dingbats think that spewing this crap makes them cool or if they actually think that folks don’t know that they’re stealing material.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of my favorites:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spouter: </b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t let your ego write any checks your body can’t cash!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Um, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Top Gun</i>, anyone???)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ashley:</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s what credit cards are for.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spouter: </b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re about to bring a world of hurt down on yourself, little lady!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ashley: </b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have Tylenol in my purse.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spouter:</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You need to step up to the plate and deliver!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I swear to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God</i>, if I hear that on one more frigging reality show sound bite, I am going to lose what precious little sanity I have left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sure to hell don’t need to hear it from opposing counsel.)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ashley: </b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Objection as to lack of specificity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What “plate?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Home plate?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A buffet plate?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Deliver what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bat?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A casserole?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your statement calls for entirely too much speculation.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I should probably stop now before my eye starts twitching.</div>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-55004109519858156882011-09-08T08:53:00.001-04:002011-09-08T08:53:53.178-04:00Embrace the Evil<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Let’s go ahead and address the elephant in the room:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m crazy...but aren’t we all at one point or another?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be perfectly frank, it takes a certain amount of insanity to navigate through this day and age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The loony toons just manifest differently in different folks.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">How do my crazies come out to play?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In more ways than you can shake a stick at, but the one I am to address today is Multiple Personality Ashley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">told</i> you I was crazy.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Believe it or not, I am a nice person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I adore my children and my husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would walk through fire for my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I smile and say hello to folks when I see them (but I don’t always see them because I walk around with horrible tunnel vision) and I’ve even stopped and helped a turtle across the road once or twice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do nice things for people without them even knowing about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Although I still persist in my rose colored belief that the world of an attorney is ultimately a noble calling, there are inevitably occasions when attorneys have to do really crappy things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do I answer that God-awful, trite, rather rude question that I get asked at <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">every single </i>social function when someone discovers that I’m a lawyer?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">[Gasp!] “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How</i> do you represent someone when you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i> they’re guilty?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">One of these days, I’m going to snap and answer, “The same way I’d represent you even though I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know</i> God didn’t give you the sense He gave a paving brick.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">It’s the way I explained it to a friend of mine who knows me well and appreciates my inner villain:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There are two Ashley’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nice Ashley stops the car for Kitty and even takes the time to try to find his owners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lawyer Ashley would aim for mangy thing and toss the carcass into her neighbor’s yard with the intent to frame him for feline murder.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">The thing is that Attorney Ashley started having a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> good time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She particularly enjoyed trying District Court cases against first years and interns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She objected to absolutely everything they said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of them even cried once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MWA-HAHAHAHAHA!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I will now quit talking about myself in the third person because I have to own my actions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must embrace the evil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, who am I kidding?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve gone over to the Dark Side:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>How do I rate folks?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, there is the Ashley Council Drowning Scale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If someone I know is drowning, do I like them enough to (a) jump in and save them, (b) throw them a life ring, (c) walk away, or (d) sit down and watch?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>You know how most folks go to the gym and the beach and look at all of the hot bodies while thinking to themselves, “Oh my Lord, look at them!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are so amazing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll never compare!!!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I say, why make yourself miserable?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I go to the beach and pick out the ugliest person I can find and concentrate on them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find myself feeling right damned fine about myself for the rest of the day.</div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Speaking of the beach, there was a recent incident where I rather shamefully included my innocent 7 year-old in my machinations, but—in my defense—she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> enjoyed it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had our little camp laid out at the beach with our blanket and umbrella and let me assure you that there was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more</i> than enough room for anyone and everyone to enjoy a first row seat at the ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some buttheads came and camped right the hell in front of us and it was just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">such</i> a low rent move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the time came for us to pack up, we had some leftover snack crackers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hmmm... </div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; text-align: justify;">Who would suspect such an adorable child as Baby Belle 1?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My precious child aided us as we scattered snack cracker crumbs liberally around their camp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first in what surely became a legion of seagulls were starting to arrive as we scampered, giggling, off of the beach. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>Its road rage and it’s bad when everybody else does it, but it’s tactical maneuvering when I do it and it’s perfectly fine.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>I will send my insane Chihuahua (Desdemona Muffets Council) out into our front yard to yap her little ass off at window salesmen, snake oil grass repair idiots and religious zealots and I thoroughly enjoy the show.</div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>I will take the last “whatever” off of the shelf at the store because everyone else is dithering about being too polite and I. Do. Not. Dither.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who has the time?</div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">7.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>On occasion (okay, frequently), I aim for pigeons and squirrels.</div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">8.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>I’ve acquired a bit of a reputation for scaring first offense teenagers straight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know those youthful indiscretions we all made at one point or another where some of us had the good luck not to get caught and some of weren’t so fortunate?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do jail tours and I occasionally resort to opening the blinds in my little bat cave of an office to reveal the corner store and park across the street inhabited by shuffling and twitching individuals looking to score, looking to hook up or looking for a fight as they mumble incoherently to themselves and I say <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“LOOK UPON YOUR FUTURE YOU HAVE SET FOR YOURSELF IF YOU DO NOT CHANGE YOUR COURSE”</b> in a very “Ghost of Christmas Future” tone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I make them cry too.</div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.75in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">9.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>I ratted out a very bratty UNC-Weed student who was invading my personal space in the grocery line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was talking to her parents in a very loud tone as she lied to them that she was already home and she was getting ready to go to bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Accordingly, I rather loudly added, “SHE’S LYING.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>SHE’S AT THE HARRIS TEETER BUYING BEER.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay, so I embellished the beer part.</div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Embrace the evil.</span>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-33258846699589108112011-08-31T11:17:00.000-04:002011-08-31T11:17:04.304-04:00Alas, AlackDue to several calamitous and catastrophic (and all sorts of other fancy adjectives) events that have recently occured in my life, I find that I am not able to post as much as I used to. I'm sure you've noticed my absence, but I tend to state the obvious on a regular basis. Not to worry, I anticipate many sleepless nights ahead, so you will likely be hearing from me sooner rather than later...and, yes, that <em>is </em>a threat.<br />
<br />
xoxoAshAshley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-88353941133005060202011-08-19T08:07:00.000-04:002011-08-19T08:07:07.362-04:00The Southern Belle vs. That Martha Stewart B!tch<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I try to be a good mother, I really do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I snuggle, cuddle, kiss and tickle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I read stories and have rockin’ tea parties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I color and draw pictures and do manicures <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> pedicures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After seven years of hitting and missing and cussing, I can also do hair reasonably well.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">The thing is...well...the thing is that I’m pretty challenged when it comes to the domestic arts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">At first it was lack of interest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Food tasted good and I certainly appreciated it, but I wasn’t overly interested in how it got to the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was a klutz and ovens were hot and knives were sharp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was also really cool that Mom could make me a Toto costume for the Wizard of Oz play or a Cat Woman outfit for Halloween, but that was where my interest trailed off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a klutz and needles are sharp, etcetera, etcetera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">After that, it was kind of a Women’s Lib thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just because I was a woman, I was expected to know how to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cook</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sew?</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why not slap me barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Down with The Man, dude!</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Then, the perfectionist in me held me back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The needlepoint I labored over had a mistake and I would get frustrated and put it down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cookies crumbled all the hell over the place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Christmas pillow that was supposed to be all smooth and plump ended up looking like some sort of mutant amoeba.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, if I couldn’t do it perfect, I didn’t have the time for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had plenty of other things to do.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Then I had the Baby Belles and that’s when the prides began to feel like deficiencies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mommies could hem pants and sew costumes and bake nifty cookies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They did arts and crafts and all sorts of crap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am still in total awe of the mom who makes her own Play-Doh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sweet baby Jesus.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">The best costume money can buy falls woefully short to the costume made with love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I remember being at craft time with my kids during a vacation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t remember what activity was occurring at the craft table, but I didn’t have the skills for whatever it was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In an attempt to do my part, I set up a set up a little side table where I did mani/pedis if any of the girls wanted them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I heard Baby Belle 1 as Scott, “Why can’t Mama do stuff like that?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Ever the sweet pea, Scott answered, “Honey, that’s just not her thing, but she’s doing what she does!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look at the awesome nails!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Bless his heart.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Well, I’m not going to deny the veritable Hindenburg of guilt that rained down on my head after overhearing the aforementioned remark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, the whole mother-wife-attorney-daughter-sister-writer-evil mastermind thing put the kibosh on attaining the Martha Stewart heights to which I aspired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Actually, I don’t really mean that about Martha Stewart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The woman gives me the hives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most cooking show/decorating show people give me the hives.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, if I’m being honest, a lot of that stuff really just isn’t my cup of tea.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">For the record, I actually decided that “even I” could move the buttons on Baby Belle 1’s school uniforms last year and, after stabbing myself so many times that I could barely type on the computer for the following week, every last one of those damn buttons came off over the years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Damn buttons.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">...and then common ground presented itself...</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">When I first found out that I was pregnant with Baby Belle 1, I suddenly had this feeling that I needed to learn some sort of domestic craft right away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Accordingly, I ran to the bookstore and bought <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Knitting for Dummies.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I shit you not.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I read Knitting for Dummies and taught myself the rudimentary ropes of knitting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was nowhere near sweaters and booties and bonnets and all of that, but I did get out a blanket and a dodgy looking scarf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I actually really enjoyed it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The knitting was hypnotic and it was so rewarding to have something to show for my work (totally <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> the case in the legal arena).</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Well, as I’m sure you can imagine, Baby Belle 1 arrived and there wasn’t even time to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">shower</i> much less knit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The knitting needles and the yarn got put away into the deepest recesses of the storage closet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">This summer, Baby Belle 1 learned how to finger weave from one of the camp counselors and she really got into it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She brought some of the yarn home one day and watching her clicked a light on in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said, “You know what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can knit.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">My child look at me as though I’d told her that Martians disguised as penguins and were taking over the entire planet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said, “No way!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Somewhat offended, but also understanding the source of her disbelief, I said, “Yes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">way</i>!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll even take you to the store to get the supplies and you can watch and learn, missy!” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Accordingly, Baby Belle 1 and I went traipsing across town on Friday night to the craft store (<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hives!</i></b>) to get needles and yarn because I had no idea in the world where my old stuff was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I attempted to refresh my recollection on Youtube.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t get a row started to save my life and it nearly drove me barking mad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My rheumatoid arthritis is pretty well controlled, but it sure was kicking up with the old needles and yarn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As my daughter watched me avidly while finger weaving miles of rainbow colored yarn, I endeavored to keep the sailor-like cussing in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">When my hands hurt, I got frustrated beyond the telling of it or I wanted to stab myself in the eye with one of the knitting needles, I put my project down and walked away for a break.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I was gone for more than ten minutes, my little task master in pig tails found me and handed me my yarn and needles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The poor baby was so excited that her mother might just be able to do something so...well...so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">motherly</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Get back to work, Mama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can do it!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Oy.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">So, by Sunday night, I was more or less making a mass of yarn knots that could loosely be construed as knitting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby Belle 1 was so excited and encouraging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mama, that is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> beautiful!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> proud of you!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wear</i> that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you think you could make it a scarf?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hey Daddy, Mama’s knitting me a scarf and then she’s going to do a blanket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She can do one for you, too, if you want.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I guess I’d better get to work...</div>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-87290752210472224392011-08-17T08:20:00.000-04:002011-08-17T08:20:45.153-04:00Parents in Crime<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I’m hard pressed to play Go Fish and I am utterly unable to comprehend Poker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Card games just aren’t my cup of tea and it’s just as well, I suppose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been informed that I have a bit of a tell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, when I get peeved and I am trying like the devil not to explode all over the place in a Sam Kinison-esque rant (God rest his talented soul), I get a twitch in my right eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trite, I know, but I’m so unusual in so many other areas of my life that you have to throw me a bone somewhere for Heaven’s sake.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">As you’ve probably already deduced, my poor little eye twitches numerous times a day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve even woken up in the middle of the night because the darned thing was twitching from an apparently annoying dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Of course, there are some things that make my eye twitch more than others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the non-attorney arena, aggressive drivers trump dumbass lost drivers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Temper tantrums trump [most] whiners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clutter around my house near about trumps everything because I SWEAR TO GOD I JUST CLEANED THE FRIGGING COUNTER OFF AND NO ONE CARES OR TRIES AND I’M JUST BEFORE SETTING A TRASH BAG ON ONE END AND SWEEPING EVERY DAMN THING INTO IT STARTING AT THE OTHER END WITH THE ONE-ARM SWIPE METHOD.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Oh yeah, now it’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> twitching.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">When it comes to my life in the legal world, there are a gracious plenty of irritants and I do so hate to speak it certainties (that’s one of the first things they tell you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>to do in law school), but I do believe that the winner and continuing champion is...<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">THE ANGRY PARENT!!!</i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">The irony about the Angry Parents from Hell is that—nine times out of ten—they aren’t in Juvenile Court.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, it’s the mothers and fathers whose “precious babies” have entered into court for the big boys and the big girls who go all Parental Perry Mason on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The oh-so-fun parents tend to break down into two subsets:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(1) The I Don’t Care What You Say, My Baby Didn’t Do Its;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and (2) The My God, It’s Not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That</i> Big a Deals!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I can tell before a parent even opens his or her mouth if they are going to be in denial about their one-person crime wave offspring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have this air of injustice about them as though it’s appalling that they even have to address the baseless charges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">they</i> don’t have to address any charges at all, but there’s no point whatsoever in reminding them of that little detail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Once they do open their mouths, it’s:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My baby wouldn’t do that!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My baby <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">might</i> have been there, but she was with her friends <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> they were the ones doing it, not her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The police are targeting our family because my baby’s daddy has a warrant out for his arrest and they think they can get one of us to tell them where he is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">The higher the evidence piles up in favor of the State, the more vehement the parent gets that their baby didn’t do what they were accused of doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Media has been doctored, witnesses have been paid and cops are crooked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a vast, intricate and overriding conspiracy reaching up into the upper echelons of Capitol Hill and the White House and every last iota of it is directed at bringing down their precious baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Naturally, I’m not doing my job because I don’t have 100% confidence in their baby’s innocence and because I can’t get the District Attorney to drop the charges while simultaneously filing a civil rights lawsuit against the police department and negotiating a multi-million dollar settlement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, I know, I suck.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">One time, I even had a kid come out and tell his mother right to her face that he did it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He smashed the window and stole the radio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sat there for a minute and then launched into a theory about how the police were targeting him and following him unfairly so they were watching and waiting for him to “make a mistake” so they could bust him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That woman probably should have considered law school.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Yes, the “My Baby Didn’t Do It’s” are a real barrel of monkeys, but the “C’mon You Must Be Kidding” parents can be some serious SOB’s:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Daddy sends Pumpkin down here to UNC-Weed where Pumpkin proceeds to get a truly “higher” education and gets busted on possession of marijuana charges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Daddy gets a call from the police and he is understandably irate, but not in the way you might think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, Daddy is irate because “it was just a little pot, for God’s sake!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Daddy is indignant at having to take time out of his busy schedule to deal with Pumpkin’s “little pot problem.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a matter of fact, all of us folks here in New Hanover County are holy rolling, backwater, hillbilly morons for making such a big deal out of some weed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Honestly, if the problem had occurred where <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">they </i>were from, not only would the matter have been swept under the rug, but Pumpkin would have received an invitation to join the Country Club!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;">P-Daddy:<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This is absurd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wife and I have taken time off to come down here and deal with this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, who <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">didn’t</i> smoke a little pot when they were in college?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ashley:<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Yep, there goes my eye again.</div>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-66883210243151075502011-08-15T08:31:00.001-04:002011-08-15T08:34:56.805-04:00"Legal" Caterwaulers<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Well, my rant about the trailer judges just set me on a roll.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 46.05pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Let me first say that I absolutely love a flamboyant attorney. In the immortal words of Johnnie Cochran, “If it doesn’t fit, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you must acquit!” </i>Indeed.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Let’s face it, evidence gets tedious and witnesses talk in monotones. Juries are human and they get bored. An attorney almost <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">has</i> to jump around and holler a little bit to wake folks up and get a point across. Plus—as I’ve said before—theatricality can sometimes be employed to distract from the fact that you have absolutely no case whatsoever. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">That being said, there is a distinct difference between a flamboyant attorney and a media whore with a law degree. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Oops! Did I say that out loud? Dammit, I might just have to take remedial deportment classes.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Here’s the thing: Flamboyant attorneys actually set foot in a courtroom. The force of their personalities might drive you completely crazy, but they walk the walk and they talk the talk. They might lose in the end, but they leave no room for doubt that they gave the case everything they had. Yes, attorneys are expected to zealously represent their client and the legal loudmouths tend to get it done in spades.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Then there are the attorneys—well...we’re just supposed to take their word for it that they are or were attorneys at some point in time. They might very well know their way around a courtroom, but who doesn’t these days after relentless airings of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Practice, The Good Wife, L.A. Law, Boston Legal,</i> and a legion of other courtroom dramas? Every news network keeps several of these McLawyers stocked on the shelf to pull out for statements of the obvious and other general platitudes during tacky and sensational trials. “Yes, Bill, it was an absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">jaw-dropping</i> day in the courtroom and we can expect to see the same tomorrow.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">McLawyers are way down on my Love List, but there is another group that not only hit rock bottom, they kept digging when they got there. Who are these bodaciously atrocious individuals? To even think their names makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth, but...ew...Nancy Grace and Gloria Allred. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Not only do these females make me ashamed to be an attorney, they near about make me ashamed to be female. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Nancy Grace. Sweet baby Jesus...where do I start? She was allegedly a prosecutor at one nebulous point in time, but what District Attorney was dumbass enough to hire her? Okay, maybe she interviewed well, but a toxic personality like that couldn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">possibly</i> have stayed hidden for long. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I can’t imagine sitting on a jury during one of her trials. I’m afraid that I would have such an aversion to the squawking jackass that I would vote against <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her</i> rather than the existence or inexistence of reasonable doubt. Juries are only human and imagine how many criminal defendants may have walked free based on repugnance of Nancy’s venomous presence alone.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I’ve made no secret of my dislike of people interrupting each other and Ms. Grace is one of the worst offenders that I have ever seen. She tolerates no opinion but her own. She is perfectly entitled to her own opinion and she has her own television show (for better or for worse) so she can spout her opinion ‘til the cows come home. Bearing the aforementioned in mind, why in the hell does she bother having anyone else on her show who might have a differing viewpoint if she’s only going to let them get five words into a response before interrupting them with that nasally, glass-shattering, indignant, braying? </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">As a matter of fact, it doesn’t even matter if the guest agrees with her, she interrupts them regardless and I feel fairly safe in saying that she is the only one enamored with the tone of her own voice. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I remember seeing some news clip where it was mentioned that Nancy was married with twins. Bless their hearts. I can only imagine what life in that family is like:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"> Dad: Okay guys, time to go to bed. Pick out a book and I’ll—</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;">Nancy: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">EXCUSE ME, BUT WERE YOU NOT LISTENING? IF YOU REVIEW THE EVIDENCE, IT IS CRYSTAL CLEAR THAT TWIN MOM IS TUCKING THE KIDS IN TONIGHT.</i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;">Dad: But—</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;">Nancy: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I BELIEVE THAT, IF YOU TAKE THE TIME TO LOOK AT THE FACTS, YOU CAN’T COME TO ANY CONCLUSION OTHER THAN I, TWIN MOM, AM SLATED TO READ “CAT IN THE HAT,” THANK YOU FOR PLAYING.</i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;">Dad: I’ll be on the window ledge if you need me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I know this is catty and I promise that I’ll go to church extra for saying it, but the woman also needs to stop the face lifts. If she gets pulled back one more time, she’s going to be putting mascara on her ears.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Gloria Allred. If you run into Scott, ask him what happens to his wife when Gloria Allred comes on the television. That woman is positively <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">revolting</i>. I’m not sure that she can pass a camera without sticking her face in the lens. Where Nancy likes to pontificate when the pretty girls go missing, Gloria likes to jump in when the pretty ho’s get caught. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Of course, Gloria claims to have a noble purpose for her crusade: Women’s Rights! It’s not hard to predict her entrance. Any salacious news story involving the mistress, the stripper, the hooker or the nebulous “other woman” brings Allred swooping in on her broom. Ho’s have rights, too, and Gloria’s going to see that she [mostly Gloria] is going to get as much air time as possible for her story to be told [with Gloria doing the telling]. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;">Gloria: Okay Diane, let’s get moving. I’ve got more interviews set up with NBC. CBS, CNN, HLN, MSNBC, FOX, WHQR, CSNBC, C-SPAN, OMG, BTW, FYI, ROFLMAO and ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;">Diane: Gloria, what can you tell us about your client?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;">Gloria: Well, she’s a wonderful person who is a blameless party in this matter, yet she is being exploited.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;">Diane: Okay, but your client is a sex worker—</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;">Gloria: Actually, Diane, we prefer the term “Adult Physical Trainer.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;">Diane: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Okay,</i> your client is an adult physical trainer who took photographs of herself performing sex acts with the senator and then sent the photos to his wife in a Christmas card.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1in;">Gloria: That was after the story already broke in the press as the result of the tabloid taking photos of the senator and my client exiting a hotel room. My client cannot help that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She deserves vindication and I intend to see that she gets it. She also deserves the book deal and Playboy photo spread that she contracted this morning.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">By the way, “vindication” is called cold, hard cash and it is the only thing that shuts Gloria up and sends her back into her little cave until the next ho comes around. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Has anyone ever actually seen these women in a courtroom—and I mean past the bar as attorneys, not behind the bar as observers? Of course, you realize that both of these women will probably try to sue me just for writing this blog if for no other reason than they get more media face time. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When will the lambs stop screaming, Clarice?</i></div>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-23454418298970862272011-08-12T08:18:00.000-04:002011-08-12T08:18:37.425-04:00Thank God THEY Have Rhythm<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I’ve made no secret of the fact that I am a ridonkulous klutz.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When God formed the line for grace, I was apparently in line for seconds at the Heavenly Diet Sun Drop kiosk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I flunked out of tap and ballet at an early age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To the best of my recollection, I only had about two years under my belt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cried a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately—even though the length of my sentence was brief—photographic evidence exists to this day of me clad in horrible 70’s costumes and striking mortifying poses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even remember that one of my tap routines was to the tune of “Zippity Doo Dah” and trust me when I tell you that I get a chill when I hear the tune to this very day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Lord have mercy.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">How bad am I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, have you ever watched a dance class or an aerobics class where the whole class steps to the left except for the poor clueless soul who steps to the right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know, the one who claps just a second after the rest of the group claps in unison?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The one who stands up when everyone else squats?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, that would be me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Even my beloved husband, on our second date at the Peace College Spring Formal, had the nerve to tell me that I was dancing like one of the chicks from the Robert Palmer “Addicted to Love” video.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing that saved him was the fact that he was right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nonetheless, that fateful evening was the last time I ever attempted to cut a rug (slow dances notwithstanding seeing as they require no rhythm whatsoever).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">With the memories of my past debacles in the forefront of my mind, I was dubious about signing Baby Belle 1 up for dance when the time came around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looks so much like me and she acts so much like me that I had visions of temper tantrums and sequin studded disasters and—as those of you who have children in dance can breathlessly attest—that shit is too expensive to “take a chance” on.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Well, we dropped the money on the shoes and the tights and the leotards and the registration fees and the monthly tuition and the costume fees and the recital fees and..<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.she liked it! </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Woo hoo!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so in awe of the fact that I had a child who enjoyed dance—and apparently <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could </i>dance—that I actually sat in on several lessons just so I could stare at her in awe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">When recital time rolled around, I was just the biggest fool you’ve ever seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat there in the audience watching a beautiful ballerina and I couldn’t believe that she was related to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She actually stepped to the left when the other dancers stepped to the left and she dipped when the rest of the dancers dipped!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had timing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had rhythm!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">must</i> have gotten it from her father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Baby Belle 1 will be starting her fourth year of dance this fall and she’s not showing any signs of letting up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has mentioned adding gymnastics to her repertoire and that makes my blood run cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was more sports-oriented in my youth and I would have benefitted greatly from a patient rewards card with my orthopedic surgeon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Now it’s time for Baby Belle 2 to take the stage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s no doubt in my mind that she wants to do it, if for no other reason than it will open up a whole new world of shoes to her hot little toddler hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sat in rapt attention at her sister’s dance recital this year when most of her contemporaries were running up and down the aisles in desperate bids to release pent-up energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I’m not worried about rhythm and grace when it comes to Baby Belle 2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, the only thing that worries me about her is that she’s a maverick and she is going to do her own thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, the rest of the dancers <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are</i> stepping to the right, but that might not work for my daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a matter of fact, keeping in step with the rest of the dancers will make it harder for folks to see her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Accordingly, if she goes to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">left</i> when the other dancers step to the right, she can stand out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s not going to fall in line with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Man</i>, dude!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I can’t even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">think</i> about cotillion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4715121003314058256.post-24651257457962287622011-08-11T07:23:00.000-04:002011-08-11T07:23:07.694-04:00Trailer Trash Judges and the Death Knell of Dignity<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I certainly don’t view the world through rose colored glasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a matter of fact, I bet that most of you would agree that I am a pessimist of the highest caliber.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some might think that my pessimism was born from my profession and—although I readily admit that being an attorney hasn’t helped my attitude—those of you who know me well know that I was cynical in my bassinette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Lawyers aren’t exactly the worst sons of bitches in the universe (thank you Enron, ginormous evil banks, Bernie Madoff and Kanye West), but when it comes to “What Does Your Parent Do Day” at school, I’m not real a hot ticket when faced with doctors, nurses, firefighters and policemen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, I think that one of the parents even works for the movie studio, so I’m completely screwed. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Lawyers have a crappy reputation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re greedy ambulance chasers, sharks, pot stirrers and bottom feeders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell I’m not going to lie to you, a lot of us actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are</i>, but bad apples don’t screw up the whole bunch and whatever that saying is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lord knows I’ve tried to lead by example.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve tried so hard to take care of my side of the street while studiously ignoring the flashy letter writers and the obnoxious commercials.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God it’s hard to keep my mouth shut.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">It’s one thing to deal with all of the absurdity of the profession, but one thing that helps to keep a lot of attorneys focused is the sanctity and dignity of the Court.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Court is supposed to remain impartial in spite of the various legal circus acts going on around it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those famous scales must be balanced at all times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Who does the public typically associate with the Court?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Judges, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Judges are supposed to be impartial and above it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, they’re at least supposed to put on a damn good show of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dignity, people dignity!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">...<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">which</i> is why my blood boils, my eye twitches and this weirdo vein in my head throbs at the very <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mention</i> of the bane of justice, the bullet in the head of integrity and the death knell of the nobility of the legal system:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those Godforsaken finger snapping, head cocking, sound bite dropping donkey voiced television judges.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">The trailer trash of the judicial world.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Without digressing into a civics lesson, judges are appointed or elected depending on the State in the Union.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am also familiar enough with the political and judicial systems to know that one can appoint or elect someone to a position who appears perfectly normal only to have said person go just as crazy as a fruit bat after a couple of months in office (some only make it mere days).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem is that I don’t see how in the world Judge Judy and Judge Jerry and Judge Whoeverthehell could have possibly appeared normal and dignified for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">5 consecutive minutes</i>, much less the time it would take to claim an actual judge seat.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">By the way, that’s the grabber and claim of legitimacy on all of these parade of morons court television shows—yep, somewhere around the opening credits, the dude that does all of the movie trailer narration promises you up one side and down the other that the judge is a real judge, the parties are real parties and the decisions are real decisions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One thing I’ve noticed on the scant few introductions I have listened to before quickly changing the channel is that they don’t claim the bailiffs to be real bailiffs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suspect that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real </i>bailiffs would be way too tempted to open fire on the proceedings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">would </i>watch that.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Although it seemed innocent enough at the start, the whole mess began with Judge Wapner and his trusty sidekick, Rusty, on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The People’s Court</i> (dun dun DUN).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were really only two types of cases:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(1) Photographers being sued for gloriously screwing up wedding pictures; and (2) Dry cleaners being sued for gloriously screwing up various items of clothing (often wedding dresses).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t mess with a bride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Wapner was a crusty old fart, but he was more like the grandpa who could say whatever he felt like saying because he was old.*<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure that watching the re-runs would feel like a slow and torturous death now, but it was uncharted territory back then and its late afternoon run time made it the undisputedly preferable choice to sitting down and doing homework.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">When it comes to the cases on the legal shows today, producers drag the bottom of the talk show leftovers pond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They aren’t picking cases for merit. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They aren’t even necessarily picking cases for salaciousness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are picking cases that will give their particular trailer judge the most opportunity to butt in, cut people off indignantly, pontificate, berate, cock their big ‘ol head like a clucking chicken and maybe even snap a “Z” if they get on a roll.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">First of all, a court that does not show respect to those coming before it cannot demand respect for itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a simple enough rule and they even teach it in preschool:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If someone is speaking, don’t cut them off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can assure you that Judge Gotagavel would take great umbrage if Caitlynn (being sued for injury to personal property for destroying her fellow stripper’s hair pieces) interrupted him to explain how Tammy brought it on herself by jamming Caitlynn’s pasties in the coin slot of the soda machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His “Honor” isn’t exactly presiding over a cotillion or anything, but common courtesy is due in all venues.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I have never watched <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Divorce Court</i> and I never will, but I’ve read about the areas that the program covers and I don’t know how cast and crew can bear looking at themselves in the mirror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hardly know where to start, but let’s just dive right into the middle, shall we?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Domestic Violence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Domestic Violence is an abomination and I will admit to you that my problem with this particular issue spans beyond the dumbass court shows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Domestic Violence is something that people need to be educated about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is something that people need to be angry about and it is something that people need to hop on the bandwagon to eradicate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Domestic Violence is <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">NOT</i></b> something spicy to be gawked at for entertainment value and TV ratings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t give a crap how much these trailer judges squawk that, by “shining a spotlight on the issue, they help to bring awareness to the problem.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All it really means to them is that they get to holler more and drop more sound bites so they look super cool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Woo to the hoo.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Child Custody.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Child Custody is a terribly sensitive issue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if a child’s dumbass parents don’t think that custody is a sensitive issue, I can guarantee you that their child is quite worried about it in one way or another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s still hard when mommy and daddy fight—even if they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">don’t</i> live together anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Mom wants to take out child abuse charges on Dad because the kids got a little too much sun when he took them to the beach over the weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The merriment of children’s holidays are being hacked to pieces so that parents can get equal time for themselves regardless of what it does for their kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kids are afraid to talk to their parents for fear that some innocent comment to one parent will be turned around and used against their other parent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">It’s a frigging nightmare when it’s conducted behind closed doors, but no, let’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">compound</i> the trauma by throwing it into the most public arena possible!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ooh, let’s also make sure that it’s recorded for posterity so that our child can watch us act like rabid, retarded possums over and over and over again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, that’s gonna be a therapist’s retirement plan right there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">So, boys and belles, I am more than used to talking to brick walls and tilting at windmills in this profession, but at least <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">think</i> about changing the channel if one of these shows comes on, or at least try to remember that we aren’t all as bad as the worst example showing before you on your TV screen.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Here endeth the rant.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">*Holy cats! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just googled Wapner and the dude is still alive!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wow.</i></div>Ashley Councilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03540014363749903145noreply@blogger.com0