Okay, so I'm technically really more of an urban juror, but still. You'll NEVER GUESS what I'm doing tomorrow!
And yes! I'm bringing my eerily-similar-to-E.T.-finger with me!
(Seriously, what is up with that thing?)
(Why have I never noticed its freakiness before?)
(Whatever, it's not like I wanted to HEAL POTTED PLANTS WITH IT, or anything, I just had to cover up my name and address.)
And oh, yes, people. I'm a BRONX COUNTY Juror. Don't mess with me, bitches. I'ma cutchu.
There's a part of me that's all, "I saw the The Runaway Jury! This could be the trial of the century! Illegal jury consultants could've been tracking me for months, learning everything there is to know about me! They, via their numerous high-tech, possibly illegal listening devices, know I'm writing this right now! I AM SUPER IMPORTANT TO THIS TRIAL. Just like John Cusack was important in The Runanway Jury. And, you know, Say Anything."
And then...there's the other, more rational part of me that realizes this is gonna suuuuuuck. I'll likely be stuck in the "Hall of Justice" (which, isn't that where Aquaman and Wonder Woman hung out?) for three days, staring at the wall, while also actively trying not to get knifed. And in the event I actually do get called for a jury (horrors! HORRORS!), I'm going to have to pull a Liz Lemon.
If that doesn't elicit the desired effect (HOW COULD IT NOT?), and I AM a juror, my ideal case would involve: (a) a D-list celebrity; (b) a pimp, dressed in actual pimp clothes, including feather-topped fedora; (c) that dude from the Brady Bunch who faked a neck injury to try to milk Mr. Brady out of money, but Mr. Brady TOTALLY SNAKED HIS ASS and dropped his briefcase mid-trial, making a loud thud, such that the trickster quickly swiveled his neck, thus proving he could, in fact move his neck, AND THUS PROVING HE WAS LYING; or in a perfect world, (d) all of the above, baby.
One of my friends also suggested bringing one or both of my children with me so as to escape the possibility of getting selected, but that would, you know, actually entail bringing one or both of my children with me. So, that's out. All I know is that the jury summons specifically tells me not to wear "see through" clothing (Slynnro! Random quotation marks! They're "awesome"!), so I'm already looking forward to seeing the rest of my jury pool.
Think good, non-potential-juror-material thoughts for me, people!