Thursday, June 7, 2012


That was the charge that appears on my fingerprint record that came back from the FBI. For those of you not familiar with the penal code system, ADW stands for Assault with a Deadly Weapon. To be more precise, the charge was "ADW other than a firearm." So, you will be happy to know, I assaulted someone with something deadly that was NOT a firearm. I'm trying to remember now what that weapon was though... A knife? No, too bloody. A hammer? Ick. Could it have been that time I tried to run one of my ex's over with my car? I don't remember being arrested for that. I know. It was my smokin' hot cleavage that was so deadly. I must have clobbered some clown with my C cups (shit, back then I was so skinny they were probably only A's!) and got pinched for it.

Seriously, people. I did not ADW anyone. I may have forgotten which years Carter was in office, the name of my first ex-husband's third wife, and that really good guac recipe I used to know, but I did NOT forget ADW-ing someone and getting arrested for it. Now, that is not to say I never got arrested. I just didn't get arrested for THAT. So I did what anyone would do in a situation like this. I got on the Google-machine and e-mailed the first local attorney who came up under the search results for "expungement attorney." I e-mailed him a brief and, I like to think, witty synopsis of my ordeal. I assumed he would be dying to meet someone such as myself; you know, someone with such mad e-mail writing skills and such a sordid past. Wrong. I never heard from him and, instead of moving on to the next Google result, I called him up and inquired (again) over the telephone if he could help clear up this, ahem, little misunderstanding.

When I got him on the phone he claimed to have received my e-mail and claimed to have instructed what I imagined to be some lackey summer intern underling to get on it. The shock in his voice when I said I had not heard from anyone was, well, it was imperceptible, but I can really read people over the phone that way. And the slur in his voice may have disguised it. My own personal Frank Galvin (The Verdict, 1982, for those of you who do not worship Paul Newman like I do) was on the case! I PDF'd the FBI report to him as soon as we hung up and...well, that was about two weeks ago and I haven't heard jack from him. But what do I know? Maybe cases of false allegations against under-aged girls using aliases in California twenty-five years ago take more than two weeks to straighten out.

In the meantime, I will forge ahead with my plans to, well, pretty much do nothing. Oh, and I am actually enjoying drawing class so you know, just disregard that last post. I got an A+ one one of my assignments so I shelled out $200 to have it framed. What? I'm totally worth it. If I can figure out how to get the picture from my phone to my computer to this blog, I will post it. We both know you are dying to see it.

The adventure continues...

-Jenny, undecided

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