What about that time you shived a liquor store clerk even though he already had handed over the contents of the register?

In Reno?

My X used to fly into a rage, toss stuff down at checkout counters, and stomp out of stores if she was annoyed by something however trivial. Then later she'd have to go back and do the shopping for whatever the hell it was all over again. That's Reason #37 she's "X".

No-one's gonna dare steal your stuff if you post prominently in your office the cost-benefit ratios for stealing candy-bars in Texas.

"Who stole my shiv? I had it right here, in this liquor store clerk's chest, and now it's gone."

[struggling to find a way to write but a really great ass without giving off a creepy old man vibe]

4: In fairness to the great state of Texas, they do require the prosecution to prove aggravating circumstances before applying the death penalty in such cases. And you can get it reduced to life in prison if the defense can show mitigating circumstances, such as being white at the time of the offense.

As long as you don't start hurling accusations at people you're OK. Once you're accusing someone of being a thief because you misplaced something I think an important line has been crossed. If you do then they get to steal something for every false accusation. It's only fair.

struggling to find a way to write but a really great ass without giving off a creepy old man vibe

Sign your comment "AWB"?

Then there's that joke about Stalin losing his pipe.

I do this all the time, but I specifically suspect Bad Old Roommate. Anything goes wrong, and I reflexively consider whether he could have somehow caused it.

My brain works the opposite. . .oh I crap I misplaced it. . .I left it at blank. . .I forgot to get it. . .it must be at home. ..such that I often do not realize I've been stolen from until it's too late to even try to recover it.

When something is missing, I assume I misplaced it. To figure out where it is, I try to think of the least sensible place for the object to be. If after searching for a while, I run out of unlikely places to search, I assume the object has fallen through a portal into another dimension, and do my best to move on and forget about it.

re: 12

How often do people steal from you?

The only thing I can remember anyone stealing from me in nearly 20 years is a single packet of cigarettes (taken from a table I was sitting at).

I am slightly worse than this. Buck cleans, and I don't, which means he moves things. Which means that every time I can't find something, I assume it's his fault. Which isn't never true, but not more than one time in ten or so. And the only reason it is true is that he's tidying up after me.

"You've stolen my heart! I.... oh, oh geez, wait. Oh, shit, I'm so sorry. It's just gas. I can't believe, yeah, no, accept my apologies. Really."

If after searching for a while, I run out of unlikely places to search, I assume the object has fallen through a portal into another dimension, and do my best to move on and forget about it.

My experience is that I'll often find things when I'm looking for the next lost item. "Oh look, here's that thing I lost a couple weeks ago."

14 That's a really good question. Nobody ever steals anything from me, since I generally have pretty crappy stuff.

(I may be pretty far out on the luck distribution, though. Left my car unlocked and the keys in the ignition for more than a year living in NE DC. Left my house unlocked day and night in the DC suburbs for 18 years, even when we were gone for a week or more.)

Left my car unlocked and the keys in the ignition for more than a year living in NE DC.

That must have been one hell of a bender.

Except my town of birth and Pittsburgh, every somebody has broken into my car or tried to.

Come to think of it, someone did smash in the window of a rental car and steal a camera once. In France. Camera wasn't mine, and I caught hell for not hiding it well enough.

This! I am similar to heebie and LB. It started when I had a roommate situation that made me uncomfortable, and then returned when I lived with my boyfriend (who also cleaned up after me). I've lived by myself long enough now that it's not my first instinct anymore, but it definitely used to be the case that the feeling of not being able to find something was closely tied to the feeling of resenting someone I had chosen to live with. I usually tried to keep these feelings to myself but they probably came through anyway.

I once mistakenly assumed that someone on an airplane had my copy of Margaret Atwood's Alias Grace. The book was on the floor at my feet, right next to my purse, when the plane went through a scary patch of turbulence. My book went flying (okay, sliding, but sliding very quickly and almost instantly out of my sight). (My purse stayed put, or perhaps I managed to catch it with my foot? I can't recall). About half an hour later, when the turbulence had calmed down, I couldn't find Alias Grace. Then I saw a woman a few rows up reading the book. The nerve of her! Luckily, I felt reticent about confronting her, because, boy, that would have been embarrassing. I found my copy a few minutes later. Turns out there can be more than one person at any given time on any given airplane reading the same Atwood novel.

Losing stuff drives me crazy until I find whatever it is. It used to be just annoyingly semi-OCD, now I start thinking "Alzheimer's" whenever I can't find something almost instantly. I presume it will get better when I start forgetting I had whatever it was in the first place.

Speaking of reading novels, or fiction in general, I have jury duty tomorrow, and I've been informed by those in the know that I should bring a book. A good book, something to take my attention from what will likely be a too-loud showing in the jury waiting room of the movie "My Greek Friend's Wedding" or whatever it's called, which is supposedly terrible.

I've set aside Michael Chabon's Yiddish Policemen's Union, which was sitting around here, but I think it won't be, erm, light enough.

Looking for a more pulp paperback: how about a Judge Dee mystery called Murder in Canton by Robert van Gulik? I gather I have that because I heard about Judge Dee mysteries at some point.

Better for jury duty waiting?

When I was called and not selected, I studied for a test. Sort of.

I don't have any tests to study for. A friend who had jury duty recently actually told me I should bring earplugs if I had them, the movie will be so loud and obnoxious.

So I need some really absorbing reading.

The Chabon is quite good, and probably enthralling enough to take your attention away from a dumb movie. I wouldn't call it light, though.

We didn't have a movie or anything. I was allowed to wander the halls for large portions of the day and in the halls I could read here on my phone.

I've just read the first page of each one, and I have my answer.

I went to the court's website this afternoon, told them I was too fucking old and decrepit to sit quietly and listen, and am not going to even try. They had their chance at me for years and blew it.

You were replaced in the jury pool by Mark Furhman.

That's too bad for someone, I guess. I'll think about caring, maybe later.

I was worried that my back would still be freaking out, plus sciatic leg pain, so that I couldn't sit for hours without spazzing out, but that's mostly calmed down, so I guess I have to get up at 7 a.m. after all. And spend time with Judge Dee.

Some poor guy was paralyzed and I'm perfectly able to serve, so I went. Still, I was so fucking happy they didn't empanel me.

35 is a wonderfully dystopic view of jury duty.

31

I went to the court's website this afternoon, told them I was too fucking old and decrepit to sit quietly and listen, and am not going to even try. They had their chance at me for years and blew it.

I just sent in a juror form in which I claimed (truthfully) that I have trouble staying awake while listening to boring talks after lunch. Do you think they will buy that?

I should definitely add that to my voir dire.

37: In L.A. a medical excuse needs to be backed up by a doc if one is under 70. Over 70 they don't require that at least initially. However, if they don't buy my explanation I can get the doc to verify it.

The form was loaded with threats. Fuck them.

I was called seven times in ten years, showed up, got impaneled twice. I also did thirty days on call and waiting in a nice room for Federal Grand Jury. I got tired and felt abused so took a delay the first time six months ago and then just blew off the recall. I wonder if there is a warrant out in Dallas County, but I haven't been called back.

The mate stole a ham when she was 19 and gets a lifetime pass.

Sat on a civil suit about repair on a rental house and a DWI case.

The one I hate was getting voidured on a case involving a 22 year old, up for his third burglary, only evidence the fence's testimony. In Texas, third's life. Fuck that shit.

Around here, if the kids lose anything, they immediately claim, "oh, dad must have thrown it away". I don't think he ever has, but he does tidy things into random piles.

I have trouble staying awake while listening to boring talks after lunch.

So on that basis at least they can't rule out that you're human (I don't know if this is a universal attribute for any other species as well).

I'm so happy that I have a patio on ground level instead of a porch.

44: there are patios that aren't at ground level?

I don't know, but if there are, look before you pee off them.

On topic!

A colleague who I'm very fond of has an extremely sick spouse, and technically I'm free to cover his class today but holy shit do I not want to, because that would use up my only free hour, and I'm already finding my MWF schedule exhausting. (I sent an email pleading to be back-up only if no one else can cover it.)

That doesn't seem jerk-ish.

I'm not really a jerk. I just really hope someone else comes through.

I feel extremely sad for this colleague, though, which somehow makes it seem like I should eagerly sacrifice all in order to help out.

Can't he just breastfeed care for his sick spouse in class. The TA is almost certain to volunteer to help.

51: he could use her as a teaching moment. Because, you know, using your unconsenting family members as visual aids for your job is totally cool.

I ended up being the only one who could teach the class. So today I had FOUR classes between 9 and 2, two of which were 75 minute classes. FEEL BAD FOR ME (but feel worse for the k-12 teachers, admittedly.)

Anyway I'm pooped.

But now you have "I was a good person today" cred to preen over. I believe that gives you license to kick the next puppy you see.

I wouldn't have worn these shoes and I would have prepped my last class last night.

Watch out, puppies!

And this could easily become a recurrent problem - his wife is seriously ill, but seemed to be doing a little better when we set up the schedule.

I really do not want to do this regularly. Argh.

I would have prepped my last class last night.

I assume this means sending them an email saying, "Don't be fuck-ups tomorrow as I'll be exhausted."

That was a puppy.

FEEL BAD FOR ME

Done.

I've filled in for a couple of classes for other people lately and I've learned that teaching is fucking exhausting.

In other words, I feel bad for heebie.

Man alive, that XKCD today is some crazy-ass time-wasting crazy stuff.

So, jury duty. I realize that it is on one hand the most unremarkable experience, yet on the other hand, how odd.

Most notable to me was the extent to which the captive audience assembled increasingly bonded over time. First we didn't even look at each other, then we began to to murmur remarks -- "Did you notice what the name of this movie is?" -- and eventually we began to turn to one another: "So, it looks like we're not actually going to be called upstairs to the court, so we'll be clear for 3 years after this? No? I thought that's how it was -- wait, I'll go ask Carrie up at the desk."

It was encouraging, to tell the truth. The Jury Commissioner's talk about doing our civic duty, despite the fact that we have individual lives to lead, was well done, and a surprising number of people raised their hands and asked questions. A great collective cheer arose when it was announced that we were released for the day. I ran into a fellow Juror in the parking garage a short while later, and we exchanged friendly remarks, which was nice.

I was reminded of the tales one hears of how people come together when they have to. Have to actually look at each other.

(When I'm) 64: I can tell I'm getting older by the fact that after reading your comment I visited the strip, clicked&dragged for about ten seconds, then closed the tab. Yeah, yeah, it's probably big. I'll take your word for it. Now get off my lawn.

65 to 63, not 64. Proves my point.

63: if you want to cheat, here's the whole thing.

63: I looked at that yesterday on my phone (where, of course, you can't click and drag) and thought "huh, not very good today". Now I get it...