Once again I have been a bad blogger, a very bad blogger. Once again, we can blame law school, and it’s cold, darker-than-black, evil, uncaring, unspare-time-allowing heart. (and a little of real life law)

I have a tort law assignment due in two days and have found myself consumed by a world of negligence, salient features, farfetched fancifulness and a hypothetical idiot named Dr Singh who announced his hypothetical ‘funny turns’, senile, stroke victim patient, Anton, fit to drive a motor vehicle – who consequently crashed his car with his hypothetical idiot ‘my husband is the best driver’ wife, Ludwika, who fractured her elderly hip and suffered severe, old lady neck injuries.

Oh yeah, and I have to represent the idiot hypothetical doctor, by the way.

I can’t help but feel 100% complete sympathy towards poor hypothetical Anton – stuck with a shit hypothetical doctor who is literally ‘practising’ medicine and a retarded hypothetical wife who is clearly just as senile as her hypothetical husband if she thinks he’s ok to drive.

Really, it’s just as much her hypothetical fault as the hypothetical doctors, but I can’t say that, can I? About a poor old hypothetical woman who was probably ‘just supporting’ her hypothetical senile husband.

This whole hypothetical legal case thing is really beginning to hypothetically shit a hypothetical me.

And yet on Saturday at work, I watched as a senile old man – just like hypothetical Anton – reverse his car into the Dome cafe next to work and then accelerate forwards directly into a very expensive, very silver FWD parked opposite. Which makes this whole hypothetical tort law assignment feel oh so less hypothetical and oh so much more real and creepy…

That and the bubble that is Napoleon Street, Cottesloe was completely burst by that little incident – a metaphor for the lives of the rich bubble-people who regular the area, perhaps? 😛

My poor little bubble, I love it so.

Later that night, I was driving on the Freeway with a broken tail light, heavily dented bumper bar, only one (incorrect) P plate displayed and no license on me – only to be pulled over by the cops for “going 90kms in a 100km zone, ma’am”.

…WHAT THE FUCK? Seriously! Did he not notice the botched brown-packing tape job I’d done in an attempt to salvage my tail light from the 5km reverse crash into a pole a few weeks prior? And how did he NOT notice I was missing a P plate? That’s a $50 fine within itself!

The cop also asked me if I’d been drinking, but failed to breatho me, and was more than happy to take my simple proof-of-age card as sufficient ID.

He didn’t fine me either – although I’m still paranoid he’s going to pounce a mail-fine on me and take my not-even six month old probationary license away from me… I might go join witness protection, just incase. 😛

The icing on the cake is a triple shot macchiato that I had two sips of the other day, which causes my heart to beat like a strobe light at full speed for a full seven hours after. I swore I was going to have a bloody stroke like my hypothetical senile tort law man, Anton. Freaked me out. Coffee that strong should be illegal, or atleast come with some kind of the-barista-who-concocted-this-vile-death-drink-holds-no-liability-if-you-die legal warning note on the cup. Really!

So yes, as you can see, the law – in its various realistic and hypothetical forms – has consumed my every waking moment since my last post and is completely and utterly to blame for my neglecting you. Please don’t sue me.