September 29th, 2015


"My parents . . .

. . . had a more "perfunctory" relationship, if you will, but that's fine.  I'm here.  I'm happy.  I'm at a good school.  My boyfriend is a real stud.  Chicks follow my boyfriend down the library steps from behind their sunglasses."

"I doubt . . ."

"Don't be so fucking naive.  I've seen 'em.  You're hot."

Ms. Mercado was . . .

. . . exotic?  I'm sure that's politically incorreect, but it's pretty accurate.  Her toes were like three inches long---her big and middle toes, anyway, and she wore open sandals with otherwise bare feet (I wonder if she had those specially made or modified), so she wasn't hiding anything.  She knew her feet were somehow exotically erotic, if a little bit strange, and she put it right out there.  Her skin was a beautiful golden brown and she had a little bit of an East Indian look to her, though when I looked at her the very first time, the words 'South American' leapt unbidden into my mind.

As interesting as she was, or maybe even because of that, she was not only excused from jury selection on this trial, but was sent home altogether.  Maybe her papers were in less than perfect order.  In the immortal words of Rick Springfield, "Where can I find a woman like that?"  Oh, well.