Why To Never Set A Date:

Every so often, I read some of my older posts, and I continue to catch myself in lie after lie.

I'm a big fat stink'n LIAR people!!

Next time I write "tomorrow I'll get some pictures up of . . . " or "tomorrow I'll post about . . . "?

Apparently, I'm lying my pants right off.

I never get back to that shit.

So, right here, right now I'm not gonna promise jack crap. If I get to it, I get to it, although know that I really DO want to do those things I've promised (and probably will, but sure as shit it won't be 'tomorrow').

Saturday I was a busy bee and blogged about it.

Sunday, I woke up feeling sick - like cold or flu sick. I dutifully went back up to Kaweah Lake (thank you Jollyewe for the spell-check on that one) to finish out day two of the Team Tournament weigh in, and then to Rack 'M Out for the ceremony and picture taking part. Done and Done. Now I just gotta blog it all up over on that site. Tomorrow? I ain't promising nothing. The rest of my day was spent lounging on the couch trying to either a) get warm or b) stop sweating.

Monday was The Dreaded Day of Doom with the depositions and I woke up feeling definately flu-ish.

Depos were so much worse than I had anticipated, given that I didn't know really WHAT to anticipate. How many people have been deposed that you know? Not too damn many if any.

The *plaintiff's* attorney was absolutely an ass. An ASS. He was condescending and arrogant and at one point down-right nasty calling our attorney at 'sleazeball' and a 'snake'. ON RECORD, PEOPLE.

I went first and it was relatively okay. I've been through alot in my life, and to me this is just 'one more thing' and that mind-set pretty much gets me through the hard times. I really only got upset/annoyed when he kept on me saying 'so you chose not the contact Mrs. XXX to personally offer your condolences' and I kept reiterating that *I* personally made the decision to participate in my family's order of a plant and a card to convey all of our condolences for her loss. He even said 'so you didn't think it might help Mrs. XXX for you to call her personally?'. For Pete'sFuckSake, I didn't even KNOW this lady OR the man I was in the accident with! Who am I to call a complete stranger and offer condolences? I finally told the attorney that 'unfortunately there is not some book to read to learn how people expect you to handle situations such as these'.

Sheesh.

I got most annoyed about 1/2 way through The Mike's deposition. There was some pretty particular stuff brought up that I don't feel comfortable divulging, regarding the man's property found at the scene of the accident (of which my husband gave to the man's family when they arrived at my in-law's house the day after the accident), but this attorney insinuated that my husband STOLE MONEY that was 'blowing around' the scene of the accident. I was so pissed. My husband is as honest as the day is long and 1) there was no wallet at the scene and 2) *I* was the person at the scene until paramedics and police officers showed up. My husband didn't show up until then and never went over to the man or the actual 'scene' until him and my FIL helped some officers gather up (by aid of flashlight because it was dark by then, I might add) the debris that we figured was the man's. My husband asked the officers if they needed what was found for investigative purposes and the OFFICERS said no. My husband didn't pocket anything, and in fact handed over everything found the very next day to the man's own kin.

Grrrrrrr.

The other thing this attorney did that just bugged the hell out of me, was start using "y'all" on my husband and my FIL. This guy's an attorney out of Marin County/San Fran and apparently he decided my husband and his dad are just a bunch of Good 'ol Boys from the country and started talking down to them in the vernacular he assumed they use. They're from the Central Valley of California, people! Not the deep South!

I'm from freak'n Louisiana so I am the biggest "y'all"er there is. I don't speak like that in adult serious conversation of course, so he had no clue that I wasn't as learned and articulate as he assumed. He never once threw out a "y'all" or "youse guys" or any other hick colloquialism my direction.

Fuck him. Fuck him in his overblown ego stroking ass, y'all.

So of course, me, being me, used my best Minnie Pearl voice and told the stenographer and videographer (in front of him) "THANKS Y'ALL!!!" as we walked out the door.

I'm probably the only one that got a big chuckle out of it, LOL.

Maybe I should've named my blog "so me, being me . . . "