Jury Duty is NOT Fun

So Jury Duty was a colossal pain in the ass last week. Got picked for a jury after spending 6 hours in the jury pool watching "The Price is Right" and "Home Improvement". And if being trapped in a room full of coughing and sneezing strangers, with a vending machine that only sells Pop Tarts, Tim Allen on 14 different TV screens and a ban on cell phones and Blackberrys doesn't make you want to find someone - ANYONE - and convict them of a serious crime, well...then you're a better person than me.

Also - maybe I was just raised in an old-fashioned household, but I was under the impression you should be dressing up to go to court. Or at least - not dressing like you just finished riding the rails and are looking for your next can of beans. Seriously - there were women in see-through shirts and stripper heels, dudes in raggedy old sweatshirts and jeans with holes in them...it was so bizarre. It was like "Hee Haw" met "Pimps Up, Hos Down" and together they beat the crap out of "Law & Order". Did that make any sense? I don't care if it did, because it just put the hilarious image of 2 TVs with legs kicking a 3rd TV with legs who is huddled on the ground in the fetal position into my head. That can't happen! That's absurd!!

Apple Jacks is a subpar cereal, everyone. Don't be fooled by how delicious the first 2 or 3 bites are. Eventually you will be eating a bowl of soggy circles, and every now and then you'll bite down on one that is hard as cement for no discernible reason and it will ruin your whole morning.

My recent Apple Jacks purchase was borne of necessity rather than preference. I turned down the cereal aisle at my local grocery store and saw that two gentlemen were there having an argument. Which didn't bother me at first, but then guy #1 tells guy #2 that he DOES love him, and that he'll tell them when he's good and ready, and guy #2 looks like he's going to cry. This is when I realize that I am intruding on an extremely personal and important conversation and I'm absolutely mortified. I didn't want to just turn on my heel and leave, so I feigned interest in the Count Chocula for 10 more seconds and then grabbed the first box I could reach. Apple Jacks. Dammit.

Come to think of it - that's eerily similar to how I ended up with half of my shoes and my copy of "Dude, Where's My Car?".