Shotgun approach
So, the other day I listed a bunch of potential blog topics. As the days pass, these are less fresh and exciting to me (but, sadly, I’ve thought of nothing else to blog on) so, today, I will hit a bunch of them in one broad swoop.
Jury Duty
As I’ve mentioned, I’m an attorney in Portland. As a Multnomah County citizen, I am assured of a few things. Taxes. Vicissitudes in government. One other is that every two years or so, with remarkable regularity, I will be called for jury duty (my wife has only been called once in her life; I’ve been called twice in the last 3 years). And, as an attorney, I will never, ever get to sit on any jury.
Anyway, another colossal waste of a day was had on Thursday, as I went downtown to serve time in the jury room. Last time I went, I took a backpack full of things to read and ended up bored out of my mind. This time, knowing that boredom was inevitable, I decided against the heavy bag and instead just took a newspaper, a pen, and my MP3 player (to protect me from conversation).
After the initially entertaining experience of hearing one of our local judges give a pre-packaged speech on how great it was that we were here today to take an active role in the judicial system, I got the added thrill of hearing the Sheriff’s Office Captain who oversees Courthouse Security give his speech on courthouse safety and all the things you can, and can’t, bring in (I love the part about not going out during lunch, buying a bunch of booze, and trying to bring it in with you). Then the sitting began.
At least the courthouse is springing for cushy chairs. Slowly, but surely, the old plastic seats are giving away to more comforting places to rest your keister as you fight off sleep.
To my right, a seventh grade teacher sat trying to make conversation with anyone who would listen. I was honestly trying not to, but she was louder than my music, so I heard her talk about school, kids, programs, budget cuts, and being from Vermont (as a side note, when I heard her say she was from Vermont, I automatically assumed she was gay. This may be wrong of me, but I felt vindicated when the lady she was talking to mentioned she knew a nice, single young man and the teacher rebutted with at “Thanks, but I like women”).
To my left, a quiet lady with too much perfume.
On my lap, a crossword puzzle which was far too hard, and a jumble which took 45 seconds.
After two hours, the lady to my left asked me where there was good coffee. I directed her to JLowe’s coffee empire, City Coffee, and then when she decided I was a willing participant she chatted me up for 45 minutes until, thankfully, I was called to a jury.
As I made my way upstairs, I looked at the people on the elevator, heading to the courtroom with me, and wondered how long I would have to be with them.
We went to the seventh floor, the courtroom of Jan Wyers. Based on the number of jurors called, I assumed this would be a misdemeanor criminal case. I was wrong. I didn’t recognize any of the attorneys in the room, so I knew at that point that it was a civil case. Further, there were two attorneys on one side of the table, so it was one person suing at least two other parties.
We sat down, and the lady next to me said “when they said Jan Wyers, I was assuming the judge was a woman.” “He’s Dutch,” I replied. “Oh. Actually, I think I know a guy named Jan.” God, would this day ever end?
So, we sat in the courtroom, and were instantly sent to the cramped jury room for 15 minutes as the attorneys took a morning recess. At that point, after listening to some of the opinionated opiners opining back and forth, I realized I really, really didn’t want to be here today.
After court resumed, the attorneys began the process of voir dire, or jury selection. First, the judge seated us in order (I was relieved to see that I was the last person, and after doing some mental math, realized it was an impossibility that I would be called; the poor girl next to me might not be so lucky, though, and she obviously hated this more than me). The judge then asked us to answer a standard list of questions.
I’ve appeared before Wyers several times, but not in the past year or two. So I don’t know whether or not I should have been so offended when he butchered my hard-to-pronounce, but very distinctive last name. Or by how shocked he looked when I mentioned that I occupied my time working as a local attorney, who did make appearances in court. I did feel a tad put-off, though. But whatever.
The voir dire was awful. Voir dire is a time for attorneys to educate jurors about concepts surrounding their case, and to engage jurors in a dialogue about how they feel about those concepts. It’s a feeling-out period, and also your only real chance to really connect with the people potentially deciding the case. These attorneys were hideous at it. They all looked uncomfortable, they all asked general questions, and all were generally afraid of a real dialogue with anyone.
After voir dire, I sat in the jury room next to the poor girl from next to me in the courtroom, who I’d caught rolling her eyes and quietly, but audibly, pondering some of the dumber points raised by the attorneys. We sat away from the bulk of the jurors, who were all engaged in some vapid conversation. The girl ended up being a state employee. Another state employee hovered our direction, and we ended up talking about the PERS retirement system. Really, this was boring.
I also told the guy state employee that he should get comfortable, because I was fairly certain he’d be on the jury. I explained that I’d picked out three likely candidates for getting booted (only one of which I was right on), and that he was a mathematical certainty to be seated as a juror. I told the girl that she was safe, as was I. After too many minutes, me and the girl were excused, and the poor guy was, indeed, picked for the jury.
At that point I got to go home. It was 3pm, and sunny, and me and the dog had a nice, long walk.
Man, I hate jury duty. Of course, I’ll be blogging about it again in about 800 days. See you then.
Joe D’s Cold?
Joe had a cold when he came to town. He claimed that he’d received it from his “Brother” Danielle (actually his girlfriend, this is an in-joke which I can’t possibly explain). My dog also has some sort of cold or something. Between the two of them, they’ve left me infested with some sort of early-spring illness.
That wasn’t nearly as interesting as I contemplated it being. Oh, well…
Too much beer and Sunny weather
While Joe was in town, on Friday, we decided it was too nice a day out to waste, but also that we were too lazy to do anything special. So, I went to Safeway and picked Joe up some Alleve Cold & Sinus (the stuff does wonders) and, while I was at it, grabbed an 18 back of Coors Light tall-boys.
You should know that the beer was intended to last awhile. I got back to my place and Joe and I took the dog out back, where she played in the yard as we sat and shot the breeze under the nice, warm sunny sky. We drank some beer and ate some potato chips. Before long, we’d downed four beers a piece, and we’d be needing to go to dinner soon. We headed out with the idea of seeing a movie at the Laurelhurst Theater and Pub, where you can enjoy Pizzicato and drink suds (we would’ve headed to McMenamins, but their movies didn’t interest Joe). When Joe, JLowe, Lady Lowe and I (The Missus was feeling ill from some bad Baja Fresh), the theater was full. So, to Plan B. We drove out to Beaverton to Joe’s favorite restaurant, Noodles.
There, I had two beers (Bud Light).
Then, we went back home and decided to play video games late into the night. We also decided to drink more beer. The result? At 2am, we were up playing MVP Baseball 2005 and, sadly, realized we'd gone through the whole 18 pack. We realized that we were both not really fit to play baseball anymore, and we both retired to our respective rooms. The next day, Joe wasn't so happy. He's since rebuked me for subjecting him to such cheap beer.
Whatever. The best part of the weekend was the sunshine. I actually got to wear my shorts for the first time since my Mexico vacation, and in February that's a great, great thing.
Sushi night
Anyway, Sunday Joe finally left. Thank God. Just kidding.
After we dropped him off at the airport, we prepared for dinner. What to eat? Well, it was my birthday Sunday (31st, if you care to know), so for dinner we had Sushi at Yoko's (link to the right in my Finest Foods section). We invited several people from work, but only Hozay took me up on it (which ended up being just fine, because the place is small-ish).
What did we have? Some of the most delightful sushi I've ever had. And sake, at Hozay's behest, and also Kirin. Between the sake and the Kirin (which I've discussed in the past), we ended up racking up quite a bill, which I never saw because Hozay swooped in at the last minute and demanded to pay. Despite our protestations, he shelled out a pretty penny (my wife says she spied the bill and he hit triple digits), which was too kind, and very appreciated.
After, Hozay came over and met Ollie, and found out what anyone who's seen her picture already knows--she's an awesome puppy.
By the way, she made it through all day yesterday, last night, and this morning without pooping in the house. Is it possible we've turned the corner? Or have I just jinxed myself?
So, there's my shotgun blog. Don't know if I'll get back this weekend, but if I don't, rest assured I'll think of something more interesting than this drivel to cover. Until then,
Catch ya later.
Jury Duty
As I’ve mentioned, I’m an attorney in Portland. As a Multnomah County citizen, I am assured of a few things. Taxes. Vicissitudes in government. One other is that every two years or so, with remarkable regularity, I will be called for jury duty (my wife has only been called once in her life; I’ve been called twice in the last 3 years). And, as an attorney, I will never, ever get to sit on any jury.
Anyway, another colossal waste of a day was had on Thursday, as I went downtown to serve time in the jury room. Last time I went, I took a backpack full of things to read and ended up bored out of my mind. This time, knowing that boredom was inevitable, I decided against the heavy bag and instead just took a newspaper, a pen, and my MP3 player (to protect me from conversation).
After the initially entertaining experience of hearing one of our local judges give a pre-packaged speech on how great it was that we were here today to take an active role in the judicial system, I got the added thrill of hearing the Sheriff’s Office Captain who oversees Courthouse Security give his speech on courthouse safety and all the things you can, and can’t, bring in (I love the part about not going out during lunch, buying a bunch of booze, and trying to bring it in with you). Then the sitting began.
At least the courthouse is springing for cushy chairs. Slowly, but surely, the old plastic seats are giving away to more comforting places to rest your keister as you fight off sleep.
To my right, a seventh grade teacher sat trying to make conversation with anyone who would listen. I was honestly trying not to, but she was louder than my music, so I heard her talk about school, kids, programs, budget cuts, and being from Vermont (as a side note, when I heard her say she was from Vermont, I automatically assumed she was gay. This may be wrong of me, but I felt vindicated when the lady she was talking to mentioned she knew a nice, single young man and the teacher rebutted with at “Thanks, but I like women”).
To my left, a quiet lady with too much perfume.
On my lap, a crossword puzzle which was far too hard, and a jumble which took 45 seconds.
After two hours, the lady to my left asked me where there was good coffee. I directed her to JLowe’s coffee empire, City Coffee, and then when she decided I was a willing participant she chatted me up for 45 minutes until, thankfully, I was called to a jury.
As I made my way upstairs, I looked at the people on the elevator, heading to the courtroom with me, and wondered how long I would have to be with them.
We went to the seventh floor, the courtroom of Jan Wyers. Based on the number of jurors called, I assumed this would be a misdemeanor criminal case. I was wrong. I didn’t recognize any of the attorneys in the room, so I knew at that point that it was a civil case. Further, there were two attorneys on one side of the table, so it was one person suing at least two other parties.
We sat down, and the lady next to me said “when they said Jan Wyers, I was assuming the judge was a woman.” “He’s Dutch,” I replied. “Oh. Actually, I think I know a guy named Jan.” God, would this day ever end?
So, we sat in the courtroom, and were instantly sent to the cramped jury room for 15 minutes as the attorneys took a morning recess. At that point, after listening to some of the opinionated opiners opining back and forth, I realized I really, really didn’t want to be here today.
After court resumed, the attorneys began the process of voir dire, or jury selection. First, the judge seated us in order (I was relieved to see that I was the last person, and after doing some mental math, realized it was an impossibility that I would be called; the poor girl next to me might not be so lucky, though, and she obviously hated this more than me). The judge then asked us to answer a standard list of questions.
I’ve appeared before Wyers several times, but not in the past year or two. So I don’t know whether or not I should have been so offended when he butchered my hard-to-pronounce, but very distinctive last name. Or by how shocked he looked when I mentioned that I occupied my time working as a local attorney, who did make appearances in court. I did feel a tad put-off, though. But whatever.
The voir dire was awful. Voir dire is a time for attorneys to educate jurors about concepts surrounding their case, and to engage jurors in a dialogue about how they feel about those concepts. It’s a feeling-out period, and also your only real chance to really connect with the people potentially deciding the case. These attorneys were hideous at it. They all looked uncomfortable, they all asked general questions, and all were generally afraid of a real dialogue with anyone.
After voir dire, I sat in the jury room next to the poor girl from next to me in the courtroom, who I’d caught rolling her eyes and quietly, but audibly, pondering some of the dumber points raised by the attorneys. We sat away from the bulk of the jurors, who were all engaged in some vapid conversation. The girl ended up being a state employee. Another state employee hovered our direction, and we ended up talking about the PERS retirement system. Really, this was boring.
I also told the guy state employee that he should get comfortable, because I was fairly certain he’d be on the jury. I explained that I’d picked out three likely candidates for getting booted (only one of which I was right on), and that he was a mathematical certainty to be seated as a juror. I told the girl that she was safe, as was I. After too many minutes, me and the girl were excused, and the poor guy was, indeed, picked for the jury.
At that point I got to go home. It was 3pm, and sunny, and me and the dog had a nice, long walk.
Man, I hate jury duty. Of course, I’ll be blogging about it again in about 800 days. See you then.
Joe D’s Cold?
Joe had a cold when he came to town. He claimed that he’d received it from his “Brother” Danielle (actually his girlfriend, this is an in-joke which I can’t possibly explain). My dog also has some sort of cold or something. Between the two of them, they’ve left me infested with some sort of early-spring illness.
That wasn’t nearly as interesting as I contemplated it being. Oh, well…
Too much beer and Sunny weather
While Joe was in town, on Friday, we decided it was too nice a day out to waste, but also that we were too lazy to do anything special. So, I went to Safeway and picked Joe up some Alleve Cold & Sinus (the stuff does wonders) and, while I was at it, grabbed an 18 back of Coors Light tall-boys.
You should know that the beer was intended to last awhile. I got back to my place and Joe and I took the dog out back, where she played in the yard as we sat and shot the breeze under the nice, warm sunny sky. We drank some beer and ate some potato chips. Before long, we’d downed four beers a piece, and we’d be needing to go to dinner soon. We headed out with the idea of seeing a movie at the Laurelhurst Theater and Pub, where you can enjoy Pizzicato and drink suds (we would’ve headed to McMenamins, but their movies didn’t interest Joe). When Joe, JLowe, Lady Lowe and I (The Missus was feeling ill from some bad Baja Fresh), the theater was full. So, to Plan B. We drove out to Beaverton to Joe’s favorite restaurant, Noodles.
There, I had two beers (Bud Light).
Then, we went back home and decided to play video games late into the night. We also decided to drink more beer. The result? At 2am, we were up playing MVP Baseball 2005 and, sadly, realized we'd gone through the whole 18 pack. We realized that we were both not really fit to play baseball anymore, and we both retired to our respective rooms. The next day, Joe wasn't so happy. He's since rebuked me for subjecting him to such cheap beer.
Whatever. The best part of the weekend was the sunshine. I actually got to wear my shorts for the first time since my Mexico vacation, and in February that's a great, great thing.
Sushi night
Anyway, Sunday Joe finally left. Thank God. Just kidding.
After we dropped him off at the airport, we prepared for dinner. What to eat? Well, it was my birthday Sunday (31st, if you care to know), so for dinner we had Sushi at Yoko's (link to the right in my Finest Foods section). We invited several people from work, but only Hozay took me up on it (which ended up being just fine, because the place is small-ish).
What did we have? Some of the most delightful sushi I've ever had. And sake, at Hozay's behest, and also Kirin. Between the sake and the Kirin (which I've discussed in the past), we ended up racking up quite a bill, which I never saw because Hozay swooped in at the last minute and demanded to pay. Despite our protestations, he shelled out a pretty penny (my wife says she spied the bill and he hit triple digits), which was too kind, and very appreciated.
After, Hozay came over and met Ollie, and found out what anyone who's seen her picture already knows--she's an awesome puppy.
By the way, she made it through all day yesterday, last night, and this morning without pooping in the house. Is it possible we've turned the corner? Or have I just jinxed myself?
So, there's my shotgun blog. Don't know if I'll get back this weekend, but if I don't, rest assured I'll think of something more interesting than this drivel to cover. Until then,
Catch ya later.
posted by Rusty at 12:29 PM
1 Comments:
Happy belated birthday!
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