That's MRS. Big Bad Al, to you.

Yes. I'm married. Wut wut. It's fun, I love it, and it's none of your buisness, so stop asking.

Now...Lets talk about work...

So, It' been hard for me to write lately, because, now that I'm stationed in one courtoom for about a year, I'm not sure how to write about work without giving away COMPLETELY who I'm talking about in my rants and raves these days. I mean, God forbid my "shmayliff" ever finds out about this blog, and reads what I really think about him every time he kicks a woman wearing spaghetti straps out of my courtoom without considering the fact that she's awaiting arraignment on a driving on a suspended licence case, which she picked up because she can't afford the insurance she needs to legally drive her childeren to school on the way to her second of three jobs of the day, so it's pretty damn likely that she can't afford court appropriate attire, either, SIR.

But, the alternative to potentially supresesd hostility in my courtroom is no stories, which is making me a grouchy, grouchy PD; a demeanor which should be reserved only for those grade II's over 50 years and 410lbs, of which, I am not.

So, I've decided to take the risk that I'm well hidden from those I want to hide from, and that, like McCain, my conservative and OLD bailiff won't follow me to the cave where I live.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again...I'm back. Bitches.