… on this blog, tomorrow at nine am.

After six months …

… well, tune in tomorrow.

What’s up with blogger & blog-spot blogs?

I keep getting redirected to some strange website.

Probation before judgement, no points, fine reduced by half plus court costs. $65.50 later, here I am. Also, I totally went to the wrong courthouse in Towson twice before I got my retarded ass to the right one. Also, why the fuck did I dress up again? People in fucking sweats. Shit.

I was getting nervous when they weren’t doing the trooper’s tickets in alphabetical order. “Shit! They forgot mine! I’m supposed to be in another courtroom! I’m going to spend the night in jail!” but then they got to me. Huzzah! (I didn’t actually say “huzzah.”)

It wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be, but I’d be happy never to go to traffic court again. The first guy up lied about his driving record. “I don’t know, sir.” “You can’t remember back a year, you’re 22! I can remember back a year and I’m old. Try again.” “Clean, sir.” “Hmmm … driving with a suspended license, citation for…[ad naseum]” The judge had warned us that if we lied about our driving records — he was only checking back a year — we’d be issued the maximum $500 fine.

A teenage girl showed up with her parents. She was cracking jokes with her dad when her mom smacked her with some papers and snarled, “We’re only here because of you!” softly enough so she couldn’t be overheard but loud enough that everyone did. The judge hadn’t arrived yet.

One guy went up, “How do you plead?” “Yeah.” Boy the judge was cracking jokes about that kid, but let him go also with a PBJ. The judge read a little statement about stuff, mentioning that the things he were concerned with were prior moving violations, respect shown to the officer during the traffic stop, and something else that I can’t remember. The baliff had also mentioned that anyone slamming the doors on their way out of the courtroom would spent the night in custody. Eeep!

Anyway, I got PBJ, paid, was happy, left, went to get my car, ran errands, came home, no work tonight, time to clean? I think yes. Also: finish Hogwarts.

So I have a gimmick when I get to someone’s door. “Hi, your total is $400.”

No one ever falls for it. Actually, one lady did but she was high as a kite and the room full of potheads behind her all panicked and everyone was searching through their wallets. I told them I was joking, they all looked at me blankely for a minute, then exploded into laughter and gave me a $10 tip. I think I could’ve made out with a couple hundred there, and the next morning they’d'a been like “Where’s our money?” and I would’ve been like “In my bank account, bitches!”

Last night I finally got the clue that I’ve been using that gimmick too much. Run up to a house, knock on the door, lady answers, I give my line, she snorts, “Yeah, I know what price you’re getting!” Not in a, y’know, “TWO EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!!” way but a “nice try” way. She invited me in and while her husband was tracked down (he had the $$$) she joked about how they were careful to make certain of the total before hanging up the phone so as not to be tricked by me when I arrived. Not in a “you deliberately try to confuse people and get extra money!” tone of voice, but a “you fuck with me? I fuck with you!” joking tone.

Her husband, who had not been in ear-shot when I first gave the fictitious total arrived, saw me, “Oh, four-hundred bucks, then?” and sent me on my way with a nice tip.

I mean, they are regular customers, but if they’ve got it memorized, I really need a new gimmick. I’m sure some of the other regulars (particularly those who order several times a week) are getting kind of sick of it too.

Hmmm.

“Two large anchovy pizzas?”

I like it.