Stop Asking Where I'm From

An inmate sent us the most expensive domestic candy bar ever. Probably.

Written By: humarashid - Mar• 21•13

I was in court this morning and managed to get back to the office around 10:30, which is early for me on court days. Our awesome paralegal, Nicole, filled me in on everything that happened in the past two hours (HOLY SHIT CRAZINESS ALL OVER THE PLACE), and I filled her in on the craziness from my morning, and then we laughed uneasily and valiantly resisted the urge to hide under our desks for the rest of the day.

So, you know, the usual.

And then I saw something interesting: a new intake sheet, sitting on top of a long, handwritten letter, and a chocolate bar.


So an inmate who’s been convicted of Criminal Sexual Assault and is serving time wrote us a letter about his case. He is filing some PCs (post conviction motions), and thinks there is a possible Brady violation, so who knows. We haven’t talked to him yet, so we don’t have much information. But he talks about some general stuff in his letter, which he mailed …

…with a Hershey’s bar.

I don’t know, guys, I was just so touched by the Hershey’s bar.

He has no idea who we are, but he thinks we can help him based on one conversation we had with a friend of his who looked us up, and he sent us a Hershey’s bar as a token of good will. And it’s from the prison commissary, so you know that’s like a $7 chocolate bar.

I just … I don’t know. I thought it was sweet and adorable.

At this point I have no idea if anything will come of this, but I guess I’ll see.

Oh! And it was a court day, which means a Court Day Selfie, right? You jerks should be proud of me. Remember how, all throughout law school, getting me to post even a single picture of myself was like pulling teeth? I’m trying to be better about not violently hating every single picture of me. I mean, I still do, but I just ignore it.


Can you tell that I’m wearing a headband? Because I am. I’m officially That Guy. Well, That Girl. The one that comes to court in a blinged-out headband. Ah, my life’s a joke. But whatever. As @BobBlahBlawg always says, when mocking my general irreverence, “Long hair, don’t care.” That might actually be the single most appropriate use of that phrase, since we’re talking about my long hair. Which I just got cut to shoulder-length a month ago, but has somehow already grown 2″ since. I don’t know why I’m surprised – it’s always grown fast.

Let me see if I can get a proper shot of my headband so y’all can see how ridiculous it is. Hang on.


You can kind of see it, right? It’s sparkly. And I like it. Also my hair wasn’t behaving, and that either means messy ponytail, or a headband, in an attempt to either hide or mitigate the damage. Also, I’m lazy, so both of those options fit into the How-Little-Time-Can-I-Possibly-Spend-On-My-Laughably-Named-“Beauty”-Routine-In-The-AM thing I’ve got going on. (So little time, apparently, that I can’t even squeeze in five seconds to use some Visine. I just realized how bloodshot my eye s are.)

Man. That Hershey’s bar is still sitting on the counter, you guys.

I don’t even want to eat it. I still think it was just so sweet. It’s giving me a small case of feelings, you guys. I didn’t even think I had those.

Ugh. Now I have to go find Nicole and rant to her for like twenty minutes about how I hate everything, just so I can feel more like myself.


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