Tag Archives: angelmcc

I’ve Become a Sissy


Tonight seemed like any other night, minus the fact that I had the urge to get out of my apartment and take part in some physical exercise.

I started my run towards the neighborhood behind my complex when my sister called in, which then became my excuse to stop running and just chat away to catch up on life.

I had done my loop and finished sharing with my sister the dream I had about attending Kanye West’s birthday party with my parents when a sweet couple walks up to me and asks for help.

“We don’t know what to do, he isn’t well,” they said as I pulled out my headphone and looked at the black vehicle that seemed parked on the side of the road.

They took me to the drivers side and there sat a man slumped over in a position that no one in a heathy state would be in. That’s when my heart began racing and all I could think was, “This man is dead!?”

I worked in newspaper for six years doing the crime beat so this isn’t the first dead body I’ve seen. But for some reason this was the first time pure panic crept over me.

I couldn’t touch him, all I could do was yell at the rolled down driver’s window, “Sir! Sir!”

I asked the kind man who pulled me aside if the man felt cold to the touch. He said yes. Then I asked if he had felt for a pulse and his face contorted a little when he said no he hadn’t done that but he had already called 9-1-1.

Obviously, touching his neck to feel for a pulse wouldn’t save his life, but it would have brought clarity. But try as I might I couldn’t bring myself to do anything beyond yelling sir and asking if I should call 9-1-1 again.

While we were waiting another neighbor came up and asked about what was happening. We then asked if he would like to feel for a pulse and unlike us sissys this man went for it – but the man in the car’s body was too contorted to get to a pulse without moving his body.

That’s when the man in the car moved a little. I don’t know if it can be described as a jerk – but it was more than just his body falling further down. He was alive!

That’s when the other man helping noticed the car, which was running, was also in drive. Somehow the man passed out in his car with his foot wedged on the break – by the grace of God alone.

“We need to put this in park,” the man said.

I felt my pulse quicken as I realized the four of us were about to device a plan to reach into the car to make sure it didn’t suddenly start rolling away adding more to the already scary situation.

But just when I thought some action was about to be taken the beautiful sound of sirens began coming closer and closer.

Shout out to the Orange County Fire Department for the quickest response time. They immediately pulled in and rushed to turn off the car and get the man out. Loaded him on the stretcher and began making efforts to get him back to.

Unfortunately, I won’t know the end of the man’s story. He had a weak pulse and was whisked away to the nearest emergency room. The kind couple can rest assured that if he lives, they are responsible.

I, however, walked the rest of the way home realizing that the hardened journalist who was quick to jump in the car at the sound of possible death is now a big sissy. I couldn’t even touch the guy!

Geesh. What have I become.


Lofty Goals for a Lofty Life


A little while ago I started to write a list of “lofty goals” that entailed building a shelf for my pulitzer prize, having a pre-written obituary (because only very important people have obituaries written before they are dead), sell a perfume named after me, be stopped anytime I’m in public for my autograph (so annoying, but it’s for the fans).

Today in the grocery store as I hid my head in my ball cap from people I knew from high school I realized my goals may need to change direction.


I think the goals are looking more like finding a job, living without the parental roommates, being in a place where I’m not embarrassed to run into someone from the past because life is good.

Life’s not terrible now, I know that. I have a roof, I have food, I have employment. But I’ve always wanted more and right now more just doesn’t seem to be coming.

I want to not hide my head under my cap, which was also hiding greasy hair and a no-makeup face.

Now, how to get there and achieve my lofty goals? Angel by Angel perfume hitting stores soon!

Running With the Big Dogs

About a week and a half ago I was called into my editor’s office.

I don’t know what it is about authority figures, but I always assume the worst. I thought back on the days events searching my memories for anything that would lend itself need for a talking to.

I came up empty, but still walked in with that feeling of doom.

My editor told me to sit and asked, “Are you ready to run with the big dogs?”

The feeling of fear went away but was quickly replaced with confusion. I answered, “… maybe?” and my editor laughed.

He explained that the court reporter, who is also the paper’s investigative reporter was working on a murder trial that had just started but also needed for some investigative work.

He said the reporter would be taken off the court proceedings, which our publisher made clear he wanted full coverage of, and I was asked if I could step up and cover the court.


The catch — why is there always a catch?— was that I would have to test out live blogging from the court proceedings. That meant along with wrapping my brain around the court lingo and taking notes for my daily paper I would need to blog about what was happening as it was happening.

The pressure was on.

My first morning heading to the courtroom I was in panic mode. I had an overwhelming feeling that the load I had just been handed, the load that I felt was my chance to prove myself, was not going to go well.

I prayed my entire commute that God would give me the ability to get through this, and to get through it well.

He answers prayers — Know that.

What was supposed to be two days of substitute court reporting turned into almost two weeks and me getting to report until the bitter end.

I saw everything from crime scene photos, expert witness testimonies and even the defendant’s testimony.

In the end, he was found guilty and sentenced to life in jail for the 20-year-old crime of shooting his wife to death.

While the murderer’s brother may have yelled at me, I know I did a good job.

When I came in the next week, the newspapers’ “Heaping Cup of Awesomeness,” which is what we give to workers who excel that week, was on my desk with a bag of Real Bacon Bits (yum!).

Early in the morning, the publisher came in and told me I did a great job and my editor called me a “trailblazer.”

The hope is that this won’t be the last time you see me in the press box, but the first of many.

Read all about it:

Ates denies killing wife

Defendant grilled on the witness stand

Ates found guilty