Not Fabulous. Just Ghetto.

This morning I had to go to traffic court for a speeding ticket I got last month. IDK how it's set up where you live, but here, the traffic court is in the same place as the criminal court. To make matters worse, it's on the basement level, so once you get through the metal detectors, you descend down the escalators into the throngs of the unwashed masses and feel not unlike Dante descending into the depths of hell.

[It was even worse when they used to allow smoking down there.]

I stood down there in line with the dregs of humanity for over an hour. I don't mean to be judgmental. I KNOW! I broke the law by driving 73 mph in a 65 zone. Yes! I'm a criminal!! But I'm just saying, the only people down there dressed like me were the lawyers (and they were no Jack McCoy, yo). Which means that people "like me" either A) don't get pulled over as often (profile much?), or B) somehow manage to talk their way out of the ticket, which I apparently was not able to do.

The time did afford me many opportunities for giving make-overs in my head, though. Most of them started out with, "You should seriously cut off some of this hair..." I would also question the use of gold lipstick and recommend that if you're going to wear false eyelashes, you should really glue them down securely.