I had to go clear a fix-it ticket yesterday. At the lovely Van Nuys Municipal Courthouse. As you can imagine, i got ALL SORTS of material for Hater Humpday.
1. Poor signage. I mean, it’s as if they want you to wander around the building aimlessly as you try to figure out just WHERE you are supposed to go. Is it some sort of test–or do they charge for questions?
2. Metal Detectors. Or rather, being behind someone who forgets every piece of metal in their pockets, shoes, hair extensions…
3. Chatty mother fuckers–not with me, but with the clerk. You know, the ones right before you that decide to just chat it up with the clerk about whatever drama brought them to the courthouse in the first place. I heard more about restraining orders. warrants and unfair traffic tickets yesterday than anyone would ever need to know. It was like my own personal version of Jerry Springer–except that i don’t watch JS because i detest 99% of the people on those shows. Now imagine me in the middle of them. *shudder*
4. People who want to tell you how blessed they are. THere was some woman in line yesterday who, once she got there, proceeded to tell us how blessed she was that the line was so short. The line that snaked around 2x. But somehow Jesus saw fit to give her a shorter line, which made up for all the iniquities in her life. Seriously–the dude behind her with all the gang tattoos (and yes, i know the difference) was about tho shank her or something if her white trash boyfriend didn’t show up and holler at her that it was stupid to stand in line because they had to go to court. I think the tatted guy was disappointed that he didn’t get to add another teardrop (he had 5)
5. No cell phone rules. If you are going to make us stand in line for HOURS while your clerks listen to the drama stories–even though they can’t do a damn thing because they are not the judge–at LEAST let us play on our phones while we wait. It’s torture. Pure torture.
And a special extra hate for the dude standing directly behind me yesterday with NO CONCEPT of personal body space. First of all, your AXE cologne was a poor choice and second, you were lucky i didn’t draw back and cock-punch you–he was that close. And every time i would try to take a step forward–with respect to the personal space of the person in front of me, he would just nudge closer. And did i mention the person in front of me REEKED of alcohol? I was in the middle of a hell sandwich. Its surprising i didn’t blow. Lucky for them i left my shiv at home–although i think my homie woulda had my back.