Recently I was selected for jury duty at the Hollywood courthouse and became known simply as juror #5. The case presented to me was that of indecent exposure and a lewd act. We were a hung jury – deadlocked at 9 to 3. The defendant (we’ll call him Jesus because that was his name) did not take the stand and I never heard him speak one word. Therefore, I did not meet this man, but here is the conversation we had outside the courthouse after the case had ended.

ME: I’d just like you to know that I voted not guilty. Not because I necessarily believed that you didn’t do it. But because I didn’t feel that the prosecution proved you were guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.

JESUS: Thank you

ME: Now I know what you’re thinking. But I’m not going to ask. In fact, even if you wanted to tell me, I wouldn’t want to know.


ME: Seriously. Not asking.

JESUS: Alright.



ME: So did you do it?

JESUS: I did it.

ME: Ah man. Why? Why did you do it? Why would you do that? Why? Why? Whyyyyy? Couldn’t you have lied to me at least? Jesus Jesus (first one with a hard J, second one with an H sound).

JESUS: I felt you deserved the truth.

ME: You’re a very honorable man.

JESUS: Thank you. I pride myself on my honor.

ME: No! You’re not honorable! Come on man. You pulled your thingy out in front of that woman. An unwanted thingy is not honorable.

JESUS: Do you think the court reporter would like to see my thingy?

ME: Let’s just – let’s talk about something else please.


ME: Ummm…Did you happen to use the coffee machine in the waiting room?


ME: Isn’t that thing awesome?! It’s one of those old school ones that shoots the cup out and then fills it up automatically right in front of you. Really makes you feel like your in a classic crime drama or something.

JESUS: And it was only 45 cents.

ME: I know! And you can get it with sugar and whitener. Like they can’t even legally call it non-dairy creamer or something like that. What the hell is that stuff made of anyway?

JESUS: I have no idea



ME: You know I can’t do this. I’m sitting here trying to have a conversation with you and all I keep doing is waiting for you to pull ou-


ME: And there it is.



While sitting with some friends at the bar in the SLS Hotel this past weekend, the people watching nearly made my head explode. There were slutty women in tiny dresses, old dudes with young girls, guys with white pointy shoes, even Captain Awesome. The list goes on and on. But one man caught my eye. He was wearing a white scarf and had his shirt unbuttoned 2 too many buttons. He was casually leaning against the wall, “reading” a book that was on display next to him. I did not meet this man, but this is the conversation we had at the bar.

SLS: Would you mind terribly not talking to me?

ME: I didn’t even say anything yet.

SLS: Yea I know. But I can tell you want to talk to me. You look needy.

ME: Wow. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t think an insult from you would hurt so much. But apparently I crave your acceptance.

SLS: Alright alright. Don’t start crying. You can talk to me. Just don’t make it look like you’re talking to me. And don’t block the view. The ladies need a clear sightline so they can soak it all in.

ME: What ladies?

SLS: All the ladies. Let me guess. You don’t come here very often.

ME: Me? This is my local watering hole. I’m here all the time. 3 nights a week at least.

SLS: Really?

ME: No. I’m usually at home watching House Hunters or playing Rack-O about now.

SLS: You don’t have the style. You don’t have the money. You don’t have the abs. Let me guess – you drove here a compact car? Possibly American?

ME: Well…uhhh…yea. Ford Focus. But it’s only because my other car is in the shop.

SLS: And your other car is?

ME: A 1997 Toyota Rav4.

SLS: Barbie’s SUV.

ME: You know I think maybe I should have taken your advice and not started talking to you earlier. If you don’t mind I’m going to go sulk away in shame right now.

SLS: Look. This scene isn’t for everyone. Just try hanging out somewhere further east.

ME: I almost forgot. I came over here to give you something.

SLS: Look. I am flattered. But I don’t want your number. Not unless you’re about to get DD implants.

ME: Oh it’s not my number. The people over at my table over there – well, we all chipped in and bought you a few buttons.

SLS: Buttons?

ME: You know, for your shirt. We figured your buttons had fallen off, which is why we were being forced to look at your belly button. Oh and the book your “reading” – it’s upside down.