Traffic School

Traffic School sucks. But at least I can blog in a blankie sipping espresso instead of sitting in a popcorn-ceilinged office swishing stale coffee in a styrofoam cup, aging ten years and listening to bad jokes. But it does suck, and I wonder if I've used up my good cop karma.

Cashew

When the bouncer (I'm exaggerating; just a fat man in a baseball hat) asked us if we were on the guest list last night, I said, of course. I'm the singer's wife. Nah, he said. I only got Karma and Cashew. Excuse me? Enlightenment and Almond? Nah, just Karma and Cashew. Then he gave us a free stamp anyway.

Car-ma

Karma is a bitch. I stole a lip pencil at Target last night. A tiny, skinny specimen. Don't even know why I did it other than the fact that Target was particularly bugging me for several reasons. So after I paid for everything else I put everything in the truck, including my purse, my phone and... CAR keys. Shit. Which led to the punishment of being stuck at Target for almost 2 hours, with several desperate calls to AAA, relying on the kindness of strangers and the unkindness of Target staff. Finally, some Armenian slime ball showed up, after hours, my car almost the only one left in the vast parking lot, and complaining about not being able to reach me by phone. Serves my thieving self right!