A judge, a mullet, a coffin

As part of the Celebrate Divorce festivities, I spent the day yesterday undergoing name reduction surgery. It took four and a half hours but it was painless and I have no noticeable side effects.

The procedure took place at the Kings County civil court. It involved repeated shuttling between the 9th, 3rd, and 11th floors, plus visits to the bank, kinko's, a deli/notary, and the Downtown Brooklyn offices of the Brooklyn Papers.

I got to see female mullets and mu-mus in numbers I hadn't seen since last time I went to Six Flags, but the weirdest sight was this:



All the meters were taken when I first noticed it, but as I stopped to stare a car left the parking spot in front and another pulled in.

The meter was running.

Impulse

An unexpected side effect of biking almost everywhere is how inconvenient shopping becomes. My bike does have a basket. With the help of bungee cords and a fondness for precarious balance, I’ve carried a range of heavy and bulky items ranging from enough groceries to feed a starving soccer team to lumber.

It is impulse buying that has taken a hit. Once on the bike, I don’t feel like suddenly stopping to check out a nice window display. If the hassle of bike and helmet locking weren’t enough to deter me, walking into a store with rolled up pant legs and a blinking light attached to my ass would be.

When I’m biking, I go from home to work and back home. Since I usually carry my lunch with me and have developed the necessary endurance to withstand office coffee, I can go for days without even taking out my wallet.

So last night’s purchases can be squarely blamed on the rain. On my way to the train, I decided to make a quick stop at Sephora. Thirty minutes later, I walked out with lip stain and a fresh new look for my eyes - all better to snare you, dearie.

And that’s how I celebrated the news of my divorce finally having come through.