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2005-11-16 - 1:11 p.m.

BJ’s Bloopers and Blunders: Volume III, Segment 2

The Build Up

A lawsuit where sex is involved (or not involved) shouldn’t be a pain in the ass. Well, it doesn’t work that way.

A civil action brought about by plaintiffs citing loss of sexual activity and seeking a large monetary reward for damages to—what the hell ever was damaged—is down right comical. Or so I thought.

Following the original phone call from the insurance adjuster in April 2003 and several more phone conversations with him over the next few months as State Farm vigorously tried to placate Mr. and Mrs. Sexless, my appointed attorney and I got well acquainted. Though petite, she was a reputed pit bull and appeared competent and confident. Much of our time was spent spoofing the plaintiffs’ complaint and laughing about the absurdity of the “can’t get no satisfaction” lawsuit. After all, we were facing a nutcase couple with a “certified unethical scumbag of a lawyer.”

Months went by and finally a date was set for trial. Opening day would be November 22, 2004, and Ann—my attorney—assured me the legal free-for-all would be over by November 25…Thanksgiving. It was time to get more serious and plan a trial strategy (or for Ann, it was time to slap me into shape so she could trust me in a court room). She tried to encourage me by sharing with me the fact that the plaintiff’s scumbag lawyer had reportedly not been in court in seven years, and she held out hope we might still sidestep a jury trial.

In February 2004 we went to pre-trial deposition. Ann and I met in a coffee shop before going to our afternoon legal tussle. We met partly so she could reassure me things would go fine that afternoon, but mostly she wanted to make sure I wouldn’t repeat an off-the-cuff remark I’d made to her at the outset of this debacle.

“Fer Christ’s sake, I haven’t had sex in years, either. So who the hell can I blame and how much money can I take them for?” No, Ann did not want me blurting that out that afternoon or at some later date at a jury trial.

Although we had not yet been given a specific amount Mr. and Mrs. Sexless and scumbag were trying to swindle, Ann expected something in the range of 100 thousand dollars.

Six years after I had ruined her sex life, I sat in a room with Mrs. Sexless. I took a chair and positioned myself so I didn’t have to look at her. I couldn’t trust myself: I didn’t know if I would laugh or dive across the table and slap her senseless—or worse, reduce to rubble whatever was left of her sad sex life.

I gritted my teeth and answered scumbag’s questions. All I could do was tell the truth, right? Well, the truth was I didn’t remember squat about that six-year-old fender-bender. It wasn’t anything major; actually, it was a very minor incident. Of course, I suppose if you’re the aggrieved party anguishing over a messed-up sex life, there might be another take on the situation! Apparently there was another take, to hear the compassionate scumbag relate the horror of the wreck and the resulting consequences to Mr. and Mrs. Sexless I was the scrounge of the earth—or of sex!

We were near completion of the questioning when I stated I had been away from my office on errands that fateful lunch hour. Scumbag snapped erect in his chair and told us “this brings in another, new issue” and quickly called a halt to the proceedings and went into private consultation with his client.

Ah, Christ!

Ann and I both suspected the worst. Not only were these money-grubbing, sex-starved people and their scum sucking lawyer going to haul me into court, we now assumed they would also attempt to bring suit against the school district.

The “Can’t Get No Satisfaction” case was no longer amusing! It was moving beyond ridiculous and about to spiral out of control. Where before I had been moderately angry about the inconvenience and absurdity of the action brought against me, I was now furious and barely containable during the remainder of the deposition.

Eventually the deposition was over. I left and went about my life, for the next seven months I dreaded November 2004, I was more than a little angry about the entire scam, but I tried very hard to put it all in a place somewhere other than foremost in my mind. Of course, my “no sex” predicament was an amusing pastime for The Brew Crew. I was the Damnation to Sex, and almost daily I responded to: “You haven’t gone out and screwed up somebody’s sex life again today, have ya?”

On Sunday November 21, 2004, I received a phone call from Ann. The scumbag was all dressed up but he had nowhere to go. He was dismissing the case without prejudice, which I learned meant the plaintiffs’ could dismiss the current civil action but they were also allowed to bring a new suit on the same claim. Had I escaped the no-sex-for-money swindlers?

No.

The civil action circus was just moving into the center ring.

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