donzell

Uninspired. Listless. Bored. Ideas and thoughts race through my mind, but when I try to catch them, they are elusive and impervious to capture like steam from a boiling pot. I cannot focus more than a few minutes at a time. This is not like me. I usually get bored after five minutes and not a second before.

Well, here goes nothing . . . .

You may remember from my previous journal entries about the chief assistant district attorney (from the former judicial circuit that I practiced in for about two years). Well, she came a visiting about a few months ago. It wasn't for pleasure or to see me, but for work related matters. She was appointed to handle a case that our district attorney's office could not handle because they were witnesses to the incident and one of the assistants was a victim in the crime.

So, she shows up for the trial calendar call. This is where the State and the Defense informs the court if both parties are ready for trial and if there are any pre-trial motions left to litigate. During the course of court's business, a bomb threat was called in and the courthouse was evacuated.

The entire courthouse was evacuated to a nearby governmental office. As I spend time standing outside and talking with my boss about an internal office problem, the chief assistant district attorney (god, that gets old to type over and over; so, I am going to start referring to her as Ms. Coquette.) came over and started talking with me. Now, mind you, I don't have problems with talking with women or just about anyone, but I do like my personal space, especially when there is a history of sexual tension between me and the other party. Yet, Ms. Coquette decides to stand right next to me, during our conservation. It was so close that when some people came up to talk to us, they thought we were dating, if not married. No joke.

She starts talking about how sad she was for not inviting me to her wedding. That's right, Ms. Coquette has gotten married to the resident of the geriatric ward since my last post. So, maybe I should call her Mrs. Coquette to be polite? Naaaah. Fuck it. Anyhow, she was trying to look so sad and pouty. I told her not to sweat it. This took her by surprise. She said, why? I looked at her and without any hesitation, I said, "Woman, how dare you schedule a wedding during the World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party? And do you think I am going to skip that for a wedding where I have to dress up and cannot drink?" Her response was that there were a lot of people checking the cell phones, Blackberries, and their pocket radios for the score, during the ceremony. Plus, she said that there was an open bar, at the reception. I jokingly said to this, "Damn woman, why didn't you tell me this? I would have been there in a heartbeat." I don't think this was the response that she was looking for from me. To be honest, for the last seventeen years that I have known her (yes, I am that old; get over it), I think that she has always suffered from the idea that I was always in love with her, and was secretly pining for her.

Now, let's be honest. I would not have been opposed to having a fling with her, but she ain't that type of woman. She is the type of woman that if you are in for a penny, she would want you to be in for a pound. In spite of this desire to commit the sin of fornication with Ms. Coquette, I knew from within the first few days of knowing her that she did not want to fornicate with me, even if I was the last man on the planet, much less have any kind of healthy relationship with me. So, methinks that when I started to act that I did not need her or languish in misery because I did not have her, this pissed her off. The only evidence I have of this presumption is that when we were let back into the courtroom, she told a co-worker of mine and I that she did not want me and another co-worker ever coming back to her circuit.

Now, for something completely different . . .



God, I love R.E.M. and this song. I feel like I am back in college in the early 1990's when I hear this song. I don't know why.