Thursday, May 14, 2009

Behind the Scenes Vol. III

Hello all,

Weeks ago, I was told by my public defender that I was not going to be going beck to jail and that everything was blown way out of proportion. She was very apologetic and encouraging. She put together my guilty plea- community service, MADD seminar, random drug tests, probationary license. It all seemed pretty reasonable, but just to hear I wouldn't be going back to jail was good enough for me.

I was also told by her that the most tedious part of today would be the waiting to met with a probation officer and I decided what I should bring to occupy myself. I initially thought iPod, but I didn't want to get it stolen by all the hoods. So naturally, I brought a book.

With a book you don't even need to be reading it and you already seem better than the people around you. "Look at him. He has a book. He must be a smart person," I hear them say. But what book?

I'm reading Russel Brand's My Booky Wook: A Memoir of Sex, Drugs and Stand-up. I decided not to bring that one because, well just think about it: I was going to a trail about abuse of alcohol. How bad would I look? So that also ruled out my second choice, Are You There Vodka, It's Me Chelsea? I settled with a book that I've been reading for the last 4 years but have only really read the bulk of in the last few months. It has nothing to do with sex, drugs, or alcohol.

Anyways, today was pretty standard. The judge did my case with a man who was 40 years older than I to save time. I liked her fast pace nature, she was a different one than the one who incarcerated me. Bitch. With this being my last and final appearance in court dealing with this whole mess I have learned one thing. There needs to be more lawyer related dramas on TV. I was the only one there in a shirt and tie! I even slicked back my hair! Everyone else was wearing jeans and Indy race car shirts. No one knew how to dress for court. I mean really, why not break the mold and not come in like the person you were convicted as. Did I come in with a wrinkled button down and vomit and vodka on my breath? No.

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