Traffic Lesson Cost This Motorist $27

    As she approached a pedestrian zone about two blocks from a school in Burbank, a lady named Marilyn saw a child step off the curb and she prepared to stop.  Just then the crossing guard, on the opposite curb, blew his whistle and the child got back on the curb.  Marilyn, assuming he had cleared her to proceed, continued on.

    The next day a policeman phoned her and said a citation had been issued against her for running a school zone.  The crossing guard had taken her number and filed a complaint.  Then she received a notice advising her to pay her fine and save embarrassment, time and money. 

    SHE DIDN'T FEEL that she was guilty of anything so she announced her intent to plead not guilty and posted $11 bail.

    At the trial the judge quickly found her guilty and fined her, not $11 but $27.

    She says, "I was warned before I went into court that authorities are trying to discourage people from pleading not guilty.  If I'd simply paid the fine it would have been $11.  Because I pleaded innocent it was $27.  I've learned my lesson, I will never fight a ticket again, however unjust I know it to be.  I can't afford it."

    By the way, Marilyn is the mother of two children who attend elementary school in Burbank. 

    A WOMAN seeking help from a welfare agency was assigned to  a social worker for an interview.  Apropos of nothing, after she had told her story, which made less and less sense as she progressed, the woman asked, "Do you save Blue Chip stamps?"

    "Certainly," the social worker replied, "doesn't everyone?"

    "Heavens, no!" the woman said, and handed the interviewer about $3 worth.

    Everywhere you turn, la payola and el trading stamp frenzy.

    FIZZLE
My mattress is my
    launching pad,
And, ruefully, I'm forced to
    add
That often, mornings, like
    the Titans,
I lie so long there that it
    frightens.
Then, having started my
    ascent,
Fall back again, propellant
    spent.
        RICHARD ARMOUR

    AS EVERY parent knows, it's a losing game trying to understand the whims of teenagers.  Best thing is not to try, just play along and get used to coming in second about half the time.

    Take Mel Crenshaw, 12, and her mad passion for catchup.  She puts it on everything — pancakes, salad, potatoes.  Well, maybe not everything.  She hasn't tried it yet on breakfast cereal.

    Anyway, she had the bottle poised over her eggs the other day and remarked idly, "I don't know what I'd do without catchup."  She caught herself and added, "Don't answer that! I know, I'd find out what food tastes like!"

    A RECENT dissertation here on press agents and the trend toward calling themselves public relations counselors, consultants and engineers brought up the point that their work is difficult to define.

    A lady named Kathleen, trying to explain to eastern friends what her husband Stan does at ABC-TV, made only a confused impression.  Suddenly inspired, she said, "I guess you might say he whets people's appetite for his station's programs."

    So, for the moment, that's what they are, appetite whetters.  Have some catchup.

    AT RANDOM — The Jo-Mar car wash on Florence Ave., near Vermont has a  sign, "Horses Wash Free."  Wouldn't it be funny, Kay Cataldi whispers, if someone showed up with a bunch of old dirty nags? . . . If you listen carefully you'll be as surprised as A.M. Tetove of Northridge at how many men in high places pronounce nuclear as if spelled nu-cu-lar.  Even Ike . . .  So you want to be  a writer, Kenneth Tynan, 32, brilliant English drama critic, told Caskie Stinnett of Holiday, "I am a very slow writer.  To write a review of 2,000 words takes me at least two days, working over six hours a day" . . . People inspecting the exhibition of 17th century French furniture at the County Museum blink and shake their heads at seeing sofas identified as "canapes," which they thought were hors d'oeuvres.  But that's the correct original definition.