Sunday, December 31, 2006

How NOT to Impress a Woman #1

Refer to your car by its brand name in a sentence to a woman you've just met.

Example: "The lexus is only parked a block away."

Other Example: "It looks like it might rain. I hope I didn't leave the top down on the porsche."

Here's the thing, a girl isn't going to be impressed by a car if the owner seems equally impressed by it. It means the owner has bought something he can't really afford. Which is stupid. And very unimpressive.

Exception: "Can I give you a ride home in the Hovercraft?"

Other exception: "I need to get the tank back to the military base before someone notices it's missing."

Friday, December 29, 2006

CNN asks "Does Saddam matter?"

Shame on CNN. Saddam Hussein was executed less than an hour ago. Don't get me wrong. Yay. I am totally for the death penalty and this is a dude who really deserved it. Less than an hour after he is hanged, some chick on CNN had the nerve to ask, in the most vapid fashion, "at this point, does Saddam Hussein even matter?"

The answer started out like "At this point, (insert name of stupid female reporter), Saddam does not really matter." Click. I am now watching a marathon of Roseanne. I didn't even want to hear this dude's justification for why Saddam doesn't matter.

Who the fuck is this bitch to even ASK that question? And furthermore, who is the DOUCHEBAG who feels he has the authority to answer that question?

Is the American media SO fucking shallow to immediately ask that question? Does Saddam Hussein matter to who? If the media wanted to be real, they should have just asked the question in its appopriate form:

"Does Saddam Hussein matter to AMERICA?" And I've had too much cabernet to answer that question.

Why don't we ask the victims? Why don't we ask little girls who fucking watched their fathers- their heroes- executed? Why don't we ask Iraqi parents who've lost their entire brood in 9 minutes to Saddam Husseins ruthlessness. Why don't we take a minute and examine the lives destroyed by this dude, and the ask the question, "Does Saddam matter?" I would say that yes, he does. Saddam Hussein matters-or mattered VERY much.

CNN can go fuck itself. I'm personally offended for every victim.
And if you're wondering, I think the war in Iraq is retarded, and I always have.

I'd also like to add that I think it's fucking ridiculous that I have SIX remote controls. And I don't know what to do with any of them.

Additionally, musical theatre kicks ass. Seriously. Into the Woods? Fucking genius. Don't believe me? Whatever.

Maya Angelou says:

"when someone shows you who they are, believe them"

What's so fucking hard about that?

Thursday, December 28, 2006

Uhhh... Todd Stroger? WTF?

So Todd Stroger wants every department in Cook County to cut their budgets by, like 17%. And that includes the Public Defenders Office. At first it seemed like the PD's office would refuse to comply. But they've had a change of ummm.... uhhhh...heart? Like, overnight. I'd LOVE to know how that happened. Suffice it to say that politics in Chicago are rarely as they seem.

I am shocked. I am angry. I don't understand. How? Why? Has Mr. Stroger been down to 26th and California before? Does he know it by the numbers and statistics or has he ever actually SEEN it? Has he ever gone down and sat in bond court (for one example) for even 20 minutes just to get a taste of what goes on and how a 17% cut would impact the system? It's going to be chaos. Utter chaos.

So let me see if I get this right (If I'm wrong, please tell me because I'm stumped):

New Assistant public defender, been in the office for a year. He took the job because it was something he felt deeply passionate about. He took the job KNOWING how difficult it will be to pay off his student loans, because government jobs just don't pay a huge amount, but again he does it because he loves it and because it's noble and because it's important. He gains valuable trial experience. He works his ass off.

New Associate at private firm, been in the office for about a year. Has a six figure starting salary. Took the job because he knew he had to pay off his student loans, and with his salary, that could be done in a couple years. Also works his ass off. But he doesn't get a lot of trial experience at this stage of his career.

Todd Stroger calls for a 17% budget cut of the PD's office. The PD's office complies, resulting in about 50 assistant public defenders being laid off.

A little something called Gideon v. Wainwright means that a defendant has a right to counsel. Currently, this is not something Cook County is exempt from providing its defendants.

Cook County no longer HAS the resources to provide all of its defendants with this right.

Cook County has to hire private attorneys AT A HIGHER RATE, to fill the shoes of the pd's they've laid off, doing nothing to solve the budget deficit.

Because he's the most expendable, the new associate at the private law firm with very little or no trial experience, is assigned by the partners to fill the shoes of the laid off PD, but with a higher salary (that the government pays), and less practical trial experience, potentially doing an incredible disservice to the client.

The laid off PD tries to get a new job, but he's too green to have any move really be considered a lateral move, and too old to be in competition with the students who are hired during their second year of law school.

The result? A complete disaster and miscarriage of justice for everyone involved. Any possible incentive for law students to work in ANY government job goes out the window.

But somewhere in the mix, Todd Stroger gets his own private elevator.

P.S. I know that I may have made some disparaging remarks about some of the fashion choices of public defenders. It doesn't mean I don't think that they do one of the most noble jobs in the world. And I respect them, and admire their integrity, and now I pray for them. Not like I really pray. But you know what I mean. They still could do something about the split ends. It's just silly.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Holiday Blogging

FAMILY (Noun) A group of people all tyrannized by its craziest member.

At dinner last Christmas, my older brother called my older sister a cunt. Sister then called brother a sociopath. Mom and Aunt and uncle et al. start chiming in. It was chaos. Everyone was fighting with everyone. Everyone that is, except me. I sat there in the corner, keeping to myself because I'm the only one in my family smart enough to show up to these sort of things on Clonopin. It still sucked to watch, though.

So this year, I am trying something new. I'm spending the holidays alone. I've gone to the market and bought a filet, a baked potato, asaparagus, and wine. I'm even making bearnaise sauce. And for desert, I'm having a mini chocoloate molten lava cake. It's going to kick ass.

I go back and forth between feeling relief and feeling lonely- which is an emotion I don't have a lot of experience with, because I usually LOVE being alone. But I'm going to go make my dinner, and come back and write more later. I feel like there's a lot to say. But not about my family. Because my crazy, volatile, prone-to-hysterics family doesn't even have the deceny to be interesting.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Miracle Nap

Ok, I slept for an hour, watched an episode of My Super Sweet Sixteen, ate a couple of steak tacos, and I'm revived. I'm set. I can easily go another round.

Who's my bitch? You, Advanced Criminal Procedure. You are my bitch.

You know who else is my Bitch, Forensic Evidence? YOU. YOU Forensic Evidence, are my bitch.
I will spank you both red and raw. Tomorrow.

I did the math wrong. This will all be over 27 hours from RIGHT NOW.

Doesn't matter. Grace is ready to rally.

Fried. So fried.

I've been awake for exactly 24 hours. 24 hours from now this will all be over. I will have turned in my really long paper which I worked all night on, yet didn't finish, and I will have taken my exam. The question, of course is what am I supposed to do now? I'm too tired to finish the paper. I'm too tired to study for the exam. I'm too jacked up on caffeine to even try to close my eyes.

I'm at that point of exhaustion that fresh air-even cold air- feels like this brand new sensation. Like I'm this explorer who just discovered it.

I've reached the point of over-caffeination that my eyeballs, my actual EYEBALLS are twitching.

I've reached the point of desperation that I've thought about how bad of an accident I would have to get in to get out of taking my exam tomorrow, yet not be so hurt that I can't use that time to study more.

I'm at that point of over-analyzation that I am convinced the "random" feature on my mp3 player isn't so random, and there's a logic and sensibility to the songs it plays that I'm just not understanding.

I'm at the point of insecurity that when I found out last night that I got an A in one of my classes, I felt relief that I had somehow gotten away with tricking my professor into believing I'm smart enough to be in law school.

My brain is so full that I'm scared important bits of information that I'll need for the next 24 hours are going to leak out of my ears, and I'll never get them back.

I have a starbucks latte on my left, and a diet coke on my right.
I just switched them. Now the diet coke is on my left, and the starbucks is on my right.
I actually thought that slight shift would make the next 24 hours more manageable.

I'm so hungry, that I'm not hungry.

I don't even have the energy to come up with a bitchy or sarcastic thing to say about...

Now I've been awake for exactly 24 hours and 31 minutes.

That's how long it took me to write this ridiculous post.

Monday, December 18, 2006

I am totally putting this on my resume

I AM SO FUCKING TIRED OF WORKING ON THIS PAPER. MAYBE IF I TELL MY PROFESSOR I AM PERSON OF THE YEAR, I'LL GET AN EXTENSION? I NEED TO SLEEP. REALLY lots and lots. If plagiarism were acceptable, I would SO be done by now. Fucking stupid academic integrity.

I was recently called Snatch-tastic. Compliment or no?

Saturday, December 16, 2006

I wish I could sleep.

So far I've taken xanax clonopine and trazadone this evening, all in the hopes of getting at least 5 hours of sleep. I'm waiting inpatiently for it to kick in. Ahhh.... I think it's starting...

You know what I don't understand? Strap-ons. And I don't want this to sound racist in any way. I REALLY don't. But I find it a bit daunting- yet amusing- when the waspy little white girl pulls the whole contraption out of the closet, puts it on, and attaches a big black mans dildo. Ok, that's never happened to me, but I'm not sure how I'd handle it. I think a penis on a woman should look more natural. Is that racist?



Friday, December 15, 2006

5 More days.

Sonofabitch. I have a paper due on Wednesday for Forensic Evidence Class. I also have an in class exam in Advanced Crim Pro on Wednesday. So, naturally today I'm watching CourtTv and reading people's blogs. In a few minutes I'm going to order Thai food.

Can I just say first of all that the decision to quit smoking was clearly misguided. Cigarettes were INVENTED for things like law school exams, and I don't get to have them because they're BAD for me or some shit like that.

I'd also like to mention that I'm particularly testy today, because I started thinking about how much money I'm going to owe after law school. And the ONLY job I want is a low paying government job. Am I on glue? What the fuck am I thinking? And while we're on the subject of low paying government jobs, can anyone ACTUALLY articulate why public defenders make more money than state's attorneys? It's bullshit. And what I REALLY want to know is if public defenders make more money, what are they spending it on? Clearly not personal grooming. How come they dress like such hillbillies? Seriously! State's attorneys somehow manage to show up in the courtroom clean shaven (yes that's men AND women), with decent haircuts, and in nice suits. Professional looking. Public defenders dress like kindergarten teachers, deadheads, or homeless people. Of course there are some that dress nicely. I say that only in case I end up getting a job working near them, I don't want them to be mean to me. Or give me lice. Actually my friend R starts working in the PD's office in a month or so, and she dresses well. And she's got a great rack. Maybe she can do somthing about it. Or at least have lunch with me at the courthouse.

Now I would like to express my utter devastation about the E-Coli at Taco Bell. It's one thing to have E-Coli in spinach. Who the fuck cares about spinach? And even if you're one of those people who don't think spinach sucks, there are other varieties of lettuce you can enjoy. THERE'S ONLY ONE TACO BELL. And now I can never have it ever again, because there's just no way I'll be able to look at my mexican pizza without wondering if it's covered in E-Coli, then ultimately getting grossed out, and throwing it away. I grieve.

I really should do something more productive than ranting about crap, but I am adamently opposed to personal success of any sort.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Most Disturbing Commercial Ever.

So, the commercial starts with a nice, Hispanic looking couple peacefully sleeping. All of a sudden Celine Dion's voice can be heard singing "Oh Christmas Tree". The couple wake up, looking a little confused. The wife looks a little scared. They jump out of bed, certainly to find out what the hell is going on. The kids come running out of their bedrooms, looking to their parents, horrified. They all slowly go down the stairs, the father in front, protecting his family. Celine Dion is lying down under their Christmas tree. Singing. The family then smiles, looking relieved. As if they're not at all disturbed that a crazy French Canadian singer has broken into their home.

The voiceover then says: "If only everyone could have Celine under the christmas tree"

God help Celine Dion if she shows up in my fucking apartment singing under my fucking Christmas tree on Christmas night.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Loud Talker on the Red Line #2


I have ADD. I can't read on the train while listening to your fucking stupid conversations. So if you MUST talk loudly, be a little fucking interesting, ok? Am I asking too much?

This is what I learned about this one, who was talking to her co-worker, who I think knew I took her picture.

- She quit smoking last January, on the very day the Chicago smoking ordinance went into effect. She feels much better, walking up steps is better, and it's much better for her high blood pressure.
- Her "son of a bitch" ex husband put their dog to sleep because he wasn't willing to shell out $3,500. She thinks that's the case anyway, although he'd never admit it.
- She reallly thinks her co-worker should quit smoking as well. That it's hard, but it's a "good hard". (good hard... heehee wonder when the last time she had the good hard?)
- She had no idea how long of a commute her co-worker had.
- She thinks they'll be pleased with their Christmas bonuses.
- She thinks Starbucks prices are getting a little too steep.


Friday, December 08, 2006

I'm so over Finals

I've been working on this stupid paper for Forensic Evidence forEVER. It's not right. And it's so fucking cold. And I don't have any wine.

Is it meaner to push a blind guy from behind than it is to push a guy who can see from behind? I think it's the same amount of mean.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Your 'Do You Want the Terrorists to Win' Score: 100%

You are a terrorist-loving, Bush-bashing, "blame America first"-crowd traitor. You are in league with evil-doers who hate our freedoms. By all counts you are a liberal, and as such clearly desire the terrorists to succeed and impose their harsh theocratic restrictions on us all. You are fit to be hung for treason! Luckily George Bush is tapping your internet connection and is now aware of your thought-crime. Have a nice day.... in Guantanamo!

Do You Want the Terrorists to Win?
Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

I Passed the MPRE

For those of you who don't know, it's the ethics part of the bar exam. I was pretty sure I was going to fail it, because my sense of ethics is seemingly askew. But I passed. Yay me.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Ford Motor Company & Grace- A play in one sad act,

Ford: Hi may I help you?

Grace: Yes, Ford. I would like an oil change and I would like you to either patch my tire, or if it is beyond repair, give me a new tire.

Ford: Sure thing, Customer-With-A-Vagina!

Grace: Additionally, since the last time you worked on my car, I haven't been able to pop the hood. And neither has anyone else. Could you check that out, too?

Ford: (thinking he'd like to "pop her hood") I'm sure it's nothing we did, Vagina. But for you, we'll check it out.

Grace: Thanks. I'll be back tomorrow to pick up the car.


Grace: Hi Ford! How's it goin?

Ford: Vagina!! Good to see you! Your car is ready. Here's the bill. There were a couple of additional charges. Nothing major. Just a $26 vagina charge, a $33.15 vagina charge, and then the standard $41.56 vagina charge.

Grace: Wow. Ummm...ok.. Well, ok. At least my car works. (hands over her credit card.)

...NEXT DAY (Grace and Ford talk on the phone)

Ford: Hello?

Grace: Hi Ford! It's Grace.

Ford: Vag-alicious! How's your labia?

Grace: Umm. Fine, except my tire is flat. The one you fixed yesterday. I need you to do something to make this better.

Ford: I don't understand how we're responsible for this, Vagina. What would you expect us to do?

Grace: I paid for you to either fix or replace my tire. Now it's flat, and I can't move it because of the ice.

Ford: Well, Vagina, your roadside assistance ran out, and I don't see how this is our problem anyway. How do I know you didn't run over another nail on your way home from the dealership? Vaginas do that all the time.

Grace: Are you telling me it's more likely that I ran over another nail in the same tire the day after you fixed it, than you actually didn't fix it right?

Ford: Happens all the time, Vagina.

Grace: Ok. I guess I'll have to change the tire myself. Thanks for nothing, Ford.

Ford: No problem, Vag. Always here to help.

(Grace goes to her car. She empties out her trunk. She looks for the place where a spare tire would go. She pulls up the carpet a little bit, and realizes there's no way a spare tire would go there, even though that's ALWAYS where spare tires are. Frustrated, she goes back up to her apartment and dials the phone)

Ford: Hello?

Grace: (sighs) Hi Ford. It's Grace again.

Ford: Hi Vagina. What's wrong now?

Grace: I umm... can't find where the spare tire is on the Explorer. It's not in the trunk under the carpet like it's supposed to be.

Ford: (laughing) Oh Vagina!! You silly little pussy. It's not under the carpet in the trunk. On SUV's the spare tire is UNDER the car. On the outside. You have to go under the car to get it.

Grace: Ohhhh!! Ok! That makes sense. I can do this. Thanks for explaining that to me, Ford. Have a good day.

Ford: You too, Vagina. OH, Vagina? Before you hang up, you should probably know that your spare tire has probably been stolen.

Grace: Ummm.. What?

Ford: Yeah, because the spare tires are on the outside, they're almost ALWAYS stolen.

Grace: But, Ford, if they're almost always stolen, why do you have them on the outside of the car?

Ford: (laughing) Oh, Vagina. You should know the answer to that! It's hard to fit the baby carseats any other way.

Grace: Oh, right. Of course.

(Grace walks down to her car. Lays on her belly on the fucking ice, and looks under her car. She can't see anything. She tries to get a little closer, TEARING HER CUTE JEANS, and sees without a doubt that her spare tire has indeed been stolen.)

List of things that are going well today:

1. I haven't beat the living shit out of anyone. But it's still pretty early in the day.

Friday, December 01, 2006

The one good thing about winter:

Putting sweaters on my dog.

Let it snow let it snow I FUCKING HATE THE SNOW

The first day I wake up to snow on the ground is historically the worst day of my year. In high school I slapped a girl on this day. In retrospect, she may not have deserved it. Oh, maybe she did. She was really annoying. Anyway, due to heroin overdoses, cabdrivers, families, and suicides, there's just NO way this will be the worst day of my year. But I'm lying in bed feeling really angry. I don't think snow is pretty. I don't feel like making snow angels. And by the way, unless your kid is Corky from Life Goes On, don't let them make snow angels. Because you know what? When they make snow angels, they look like fucking Corky from Life Goes on.* People who raise children who don't know enough to NOT lie down in freezing wet white yuckiness, which in the city, only serves to hide dog poop from irresponsible pet owners, should be shot.

Classes are over, except for a review session on Monday, then finals. I have a thirty page paper to write on date rape drugs. I've written two pages of it. But I do know that I am going to incorporate a scratch n' sniff page. Because I don't think anyone has done that before. Haven't exactly figured out the context though.

*Insert "retard" if you don't know who Corky from Life Goes On is.

Monday, November 27, 2006

"Street Law"

I had to register for classes the other day for my FINAL SEMESTER OF LAW SCHOOL. So here's what I'm taking:

1. Wills & Trusts
2. Secured Transactions
3. Selected Issues in Criminal Law Seminar (because I couldn't get in to "Law & Emotion Seminar" So fucking unfair.

4. Street Law.

Wait. What's that last one? Street Law? What the fuck is Street Law? Admittedly, I signed up without knowing the answer to this question myself. But my fantasy syllabus for Street Law looked something like this.

Week 1. Your cousins baby daddy who stole your dope- to cap or not to cap his ass?

Week 2. The art of fake bling

Week 3. How to "represent" while driving a stolen stick shift.

Week 4. Fashion forward on gang colors: "playa yet practical".

Well, turns out that's not what the class is about. Apparently it involves going to high schools to teach the students about their rights should they get arrested. You have GOT to be kidding me. Why can't I go to the school and tell the students "Hey,you little fuckstains. Don't sell drugs. Don't rape girls, and don't shoot people or you're going to jail " No. I have to go teach them different ways to sass the cops and the State's Attorneys when they've been caught selling smack to knocked up 4th graders. And let's be honest. What the fuck is the point when I can't go in there and tell the the truth anyway? Im sure that they're really going to understand this concept: If you have been taken to the police station, held in a closed room for 15 hours for "questioning", you are not entitled to an attorney because you haven't "technically" been arrested and you should have known that you were free to leave EVEN IF YOU'RE HANDCUFFED TO THE WALL.

Really the only advice I would be comfortable giving is this:

If you've got nothing to hide FOR REAL and you've been pulled over, resist the urge to act like a little punk ass bitch. IT'S NOT THE FUCKING TIME.

If you get pulled over and you HAVE done something wrong, try crying.

And I'm going to get 3 credit hours for that?

I went to a VERY liberal high school. So liberal that our field trips included anti-censorship rallies. The only advice I ever remember getting on what to do if we were to get arrested at one of these rallies came from my acting teacher. On the school bus, she told us this: "Stay within a few feet of your buddy at all times. If it looks like police are trying to arrest you, trade shirts with your buddy"

Ah simpler times.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Self Righteous Non Smoker Post

4 Months ago TODAY I quit smoking. It was hard because I didn't go by the whole "you'll quit when you're REALLY ready" because I knew I would never be ready. You know why? BECAUSE I LOVE CIGARETTES! They are perfect little things. But 4 months later, I think I can say I'm pretty sure I won't smoke again. But I think it will be hard for many many more months to come. So you know what I REALLY don't need? I REALLY don't need the dumb professor (who teaches at the same school where I attend law school)who just moved in across the hall from me to be Professor McSmokerton! Oh my god! So if I believe in Karma and all that past lives hoopla, just how awful do you think I WAS in my last life? Was I like Mussolini? Or John Wayne Gacy? Son of a bitch. I bet I was.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Grace. Is. So. SEXY.

So it's about 3:00 in the afternoon. I drank like a frat boy last night, and now I'm pretty tired and cranky and hungover. So I haven't gotten much done, unless watching a Super Sweet Sixteen Marathon counts, and actually, in my book it does. It fuels my rage. And I need my rage.

ANYWAY, I decided that I really needed to get out of the house. If not for me, then for my poor dog, who has been looking at me lately with what can only be described as disdain.

So I throw on gym shoes over my blue argyle socks that I slept in the night before, throw my hair in a ponytail and add a purple wrap-around sweater on top of my aqua t-shirt. I brush my teeth and walk out the door with the doggie.

FYI, I live on the gayest street in one of the gayest neighborhoods in the midwest. Every single car has a either a rainbow sticker or a blue HRC logo on their bumper. (Except me. I have an American Poolplayers Association sticker, which is clearly devoid of any statement on my sexual orientation.) Anyway, it's common to get flirted with while walking on my big gay street. Especially when you you have a dog as cute as mine.

I see a girl walking towards me. She's pretty, but oddly looks a little bit like Monica Lewinsky, which is funny because I had just had a conversation about Monica Lewinsky and how the press referred to her as a "Portly Pepper Pot" I LOVE that expression. She's also wearing fishnet stockings, and I don't understand that. So as the Portly Pepper Pot ("PPP")comes within speaking distance she strikes up a conversation with me asking me about my dog, what her name is etc... I'm feeling flattered. I look like crap, probably smell like a bar, and may or may not have mascara on my cheeks. But I'm STILL cute enough to be flirted with. This boosts my confidence level. she asks me if I like living on the gayest street ever, and I tell her I do and I love the neighborhood blah blah blah. She's eating it up. PPP wants me so badly. She can't even look me in the eye. She's actually staring at my chest! I'm feeling pretty sexy. PPP probably thinks I'm like some sexy "bad girl" or something. Doesn't matter that I haven't showered. It probably helps with the whole naughty image I apparently have mastered today. I decide it's time to end this fun little rapport with a flirty "maybe I'll see you around". There may have been a wink on my part. I don't really remember.
I get back in my apartment and decide to look in the mirror to get a glimpse of the magnetic hottie I had become.

Yeah PPP wasn't staring at my boobs. No. When I spit out my toothpaste earlier, I guess I missed the sink and there was a big glob of toothpaste spit on my purple wrap-around sweater. Yay me!!

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Psycho Family Chapter 1

My sister hates me because I won't sue the dating company that didn't provide her with a husband over 6'0.

She also hates me because I won't PERSONALLY PROSECUTE the drunk guy who threw up on her boat IN WISCONSIN.

I'm not making this up. She hates me. She thinks I'm trying to "keep her down."

more later.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Rubberband Balls & The Law

So, I was walking towards school today, and I can see in the distance a 30+ member marching band right in front of the school. And I automatically get pissed off. A. Because I assume it's somehow Christmas related, and B. Because it's my nature to get pissed off at big stupid stuff like bands shoved down my throat.

So I ran into my friend and I immediately launch into how stupid it was, and it's not even Thanksgiving and I hate the world blah blah blah.

And he tells me to go down and take a look. And I say no way. It's stupid. And he says TRUST ME. Go down there. So I did. And it was a celebration for the WORLD'S LARGEST RUBBERBAND BALL EVER! And there were jugglers and a band and clowns and people dressed up like human rubberband balls, and people were handing out mini rubberband balls that you could have signed by the family who created the world's biggest rubberband ball. I didn't want to wait in the line for that, though.

It was really cool. Dixie and Nurse Ratchet, you have some serious work to do if you want to beat the record.

Still strange that they chose my law school to unveil the worlds biggest rubberband ball. And I forgot to bring my camera phone to school today so I can't even take a picture.

I also couldn't take a picture of the loud talker on the el today. Her conversation was really good. She broke up with her boyfriend over the phone. It was cool. Ok, I have nothing else to say. I hate Thanksgiving. And I can't wait for 2006 to be over. There's a chance I'm in a bad mood today. I think if my dog could talk she'd say "I think we need some time apart" she keeps on looking at me as if she wishes she was someone else's dog.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Loud Talker on the Red Line #1

Since you thought everything you were saying was important enough for the entire train car to hear, I discreetly took a picture of you with my camera phone and decided to publish everything I now know about you. So here goes:
1. Every time you say "N as in Nancy" when spelling your last name, you sounded like a little Nancy boy.
2. Your allergies have really been bad lately, and you take Flonaise.
3. Your son goes away to college, and when you start feeling anxious about life, you drive down to his dorm and do his laundry.
4. Your former girlfriend told you that college kids who get laundry service are spoiled.
5. You really want to sit on the rooftop bleacher seats at a cubs game.

Sorry this isn't the most interesting first installment of "Loud Talker on the Red Line" but you never know who the next one will be.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

To the Girl in Front of Me in the McDonald's Line

Bitch, it’s McDonald's. It’s Mc FUCKING Donald's. We all know what we want to order. The menu hasn’t changed in 5,00000 years. We ALL order the same thing we’ve always ordered. It’s common knowledge that people don’t deviate at Mickey D’s. What’s with the hold up?
All I needed was a fucking Diet Coke, and I’m stuck behind you? How unfair is that? There aren’t that many possibilities on that menu to choose from! What’s with the ENDLESS contemplation? Or did the re-introduction of the McRib render you too stupefied to place your order in under 4 minutes? We are talking about McDonalds. What’s the worst that could happen if you misspeak to the woman taking your order at McDonalds? You could end up with a cheeseburger and fries? AS OPPOSED TO THE CHEESEBURGER AND FRIES YOU ORDERED? Personally, I think you took your time because you knew I was standing behind you. And furthermore, you could probably tell I was in a hurry and in a horrible mood. And you just felt the need, (as people who are unattractive tend to do), to make my day worse. Well, fuck you. I am onto your scam. You don’t want my day to get better, because you think that my life is so much easier than yours because I’m not as ugly as you are, so you intentionally take a long time ordering your quarter pounder. And you think that you have in some way one-upped me? Not likely, Bitch. You’re still ugly.

I hope this post doesn't make me sound impatient, angry, paranoid and shallow even though I am impatient, angry, paranoid and shallow.

Sunday, November 12, 2006

And before you EVEN START

I get how easy the comparison would be to make between my last post and the one before it. I'm not about to argue that very arguable point. Just please wait for the body to chill first.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

MC with the junkie who watched my friend die the other day:

Apparently you were the one who called the sheriff's office to report him. All anyone was told was that he was dead, and he was hanging out with a fellow junkie when he died. Oh. But I just learned an added detail. It does mention in the paper that our friend was found face down on a bed. I don't know what difference that makes. But now it's three things I know about my friend. 1. he's dead of a heroin overdose. 2. You were with him. 3. He was found face down on a bed. I'm really only concerned with number 2, though. You were with him when he died. And no one knows who you are. Maybe you can answer some questions for me. Since you were with him when he died. These are in no particular order.

1. Did he kill himself, or was it accidental? Seriously. We don't know. Did he say anything? Did he say he wanted to die? Or did he say something was really really wrong and he needed medical attention but you were too fucked up yourself to deal with it?

2. when did you notice there was something wrong? And what did you do about it? How long did you wait? Did you call the sheriff's office right away? Did you pass out and wake up and he was lying face down on the bed?

3. Was he scared? Did he know he was about to die? Did you know he was about to die? And if so, did you comfort him? Did you put his head in your lap and stroke his cheek and tell him that he was loved by so many people? Did you whisper that everything was going to be ok, and remind him of what an extraordinary man he was? Did you tell him that people would miss him? Did you tell him that he was and always will be more than a junkie? No. I bet you didn't. I bet you sat there and watched him die. Maybe you were hoping he would die just in case he had more heroin in his pocket that would then be up for grabs.

4. Was he in physical pain? Was he pale? Were his beautiful arms just completely ravaged by needles? What was he wearing? Was he cold? Did you offer him a blanket? Or did your addiction strip you of your humanity. Do you think it stripped my friend of his?

5. Did he seem sad? I know that seems like a dumb question. How could he not seem sad? Did he say what he was sad about? Or do junkies not talk feelings? Or did you just not care?

6. Did he say that he missed me? No. Don't answer that. I don't think I want to know.

7. Did you stay with him while he died? Or did you leave him alone, after you reached in his pockets and stole what remained of his money or his dope, to die face down on a bed all alone. To die alone with no one to comfort him?

8. What could we have done to save him that we didn't already do?

I wish I could know. Not like you would read this. You don't have a computer. I'm sure if you did, you sold it for drugs. My friend probably sold his, too. Before he died face down on a bed a from a heroin overdose.

His memorial service was today, I did not go. I had many many friends go in my place. I decided to stay home and write my paper and presentation on "Abuse of Subpoenas" which is due on Monday night. Did you go to his memorial service? Do you remember he died? You were with him, remember? At the memorial service, were you reminded of how cool he was, and how smart and FUCKING HILARIOUS he was like everyone else there was? Or do junkies just stick to knowing and feeding off of personalities of people who are at their very emotional lowest?

Was he just a moment in your life of no real consequence? Or did you love him? E loved him. J loved him. I loved him. His family loved him. Does your family love you? Do they feel about you how we feel about him? If so, my heart breaks again for your people. Because it's just a matter of time before they are asking the same questions that I am, but of some new junkie who reported you lying face down on a bed. Dead of a heroin overdose.

Friday, November 03, 2006

Guide to a Chemically Altered Law School Experience

I don't know how any law school student can get by completely drug free for all 3 years. I know I didn't. Never anything illegal or unprescribed, mind you. I want to be a prosecutor so I can't be a hypocrite. However, the prescribed and legal ones are lovely. Mostly. As long as they're not used in excess*. For anyone who knows the story of How Grace Spent Her Summer, you'd know that being as chemically altered as possible on any given day is not just forgivable- it's actually the responsible thing to do. So here's a list of drugs that "people I know" have used to help them manage their law school experiences.

Adderall- Supposed to be used for ADD/ADHD. The go-to drug for getting through writing your appellate brief and learning the Federal Rules of Evidence at the same time.

Alcohol- Not an occasion where it's inappropriate. Except maybe during an exam. But I bet an argument can be made that that's appropriate too. *Excess rule doesn't apply.

Ambien- For nights when you forgot to drink alcohol and can't fall asleep. it's really good, and you don't wake up groggy.

Caffeine- If at all possible have it injected directly into your bloodstream every 30 minutes.

Codeine- Ehh... it's good if you've been sitting in uncomfortable chairs for too long. It's great with a glass of cabernet.

Darvocet- See Codeine.

Dexedrine- Also used for ADD/ADHD. It's a yummy little amphetamine that makes you be able to A. Study more, B. Smoke more, C. Drink more. Side effect is you also tend to talk more. And you sometimes sound like you're on crack.

Lexapro- Eh... some people like it alot. Apparently it's a little mellower than wellbutrin.

Nicotine- As a recent non-smoker, I can't say enough good things about these little cures to every problem. I miss them.

Trazadone- After you've been up for 3 days straight, writing your evidence mid term because your professor is an asshole who GIVES midterms, and you now have the jitters from lack of sleep, but you need to sleep. Take this. You'll go to sleep. The only problem is that I don't think it's really sleep. I think it's more like knocked out. So don't take it if you have something to wake up for the next day. You won't be in top form, to say the least.

Tylenol 3- Like Codeine, but better with a white wine.

Vicodin- See Codeine.

Wellbutrin- This is a nice anti-depressant. In a low dose, it works for smoking cessation. In a higher dose, it's different. Your pathetic life is still your pathetic life, but now it seems there's a laugh track in the background. Can give you the shakes though, so don't take it before you have to hand-write your exams. Why in the world would you hand-write your exams anyway?

Xanax- You get a little nervous? Take a xanax. Get pissed off at your family/girlfriend/boyfriend because you are too busy with law school to drive out to the suburbs for dinner? Take a xanax. None of the printers work at your school and you have to turn a paper in? Take a xanax. Forget to drink? Take a xanax. Wake up in the middle of the night worrying about how you'll ever pay back your student loans? Take a xanax. It's a day ending in "Y"? Take a xanax.

Note- I am not a Doctor. If you choose to try these drugs please consult one. You'll have to go to one anyway because these are mostly prescriptions.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Silly myspace survey

These are silly, but whatever... everyone else does it. They just usually do it on myspace, not on their own blog, but whatever. I can do what I want.

have you ever ______ with your top 5?

Number 1: Amy
Number 2: Kim
Number 3: Annie
Number 4: Ron
Number 5: Vieve

Have your ever danced with number 3?
Probably, but neither of us dance sober.

Where did you meet number 5?
At "that bar"

Have you ever kissed number 2?
Um... no. Or if so, it was in a spin the bottle sort of scenario.

Have you ever gotten drunk with number 1?
Oh yes. Very much so. She's one of the funnest people to drink with.

Has 1 been to your house?

Has number 2 ever seen you naked?

Have you ever gone shopping with 3?:
Yes we would go to Target all the time together. It was like foreplay before we showered together.

Have you ever seen 2 in a swimsuit?
I think I've seen her in MY swimsuit.

Have you met 5's family?
No, but I think I would like them ALOT.

Do you know 1's middle name?

Have you ever eaten anything in front of 4?
Yes, lots of appetizers at various parties.

have you ever-hated 4?
No but I have wanted to flyto L.A. for the sole purpose of smacking him.

have you ever fought with number 2?
I don't know if I fought with her or was just bitchy to her behind her back.

When's the last time you talked to 5 in person?
It's been way too long. I miss her.

Have you ever seen 3 do something embarrassing?
Where do I start? I was usually doing the same embarrassing thing, though.

are any of your top 5 family members?
No, no one in my family is that cool.

Has anyone in your top 5 seen you cry?
I think 4 of them have.

Have you ever done something dangerous with number 4?
Not yet, but I'm not scared to.

Have you ever slept in the same bed as number 2?

do you think 4 and 5 would make a good couple?
It would be...intersting. One is the sanest person I know, and the other is the craziest (in a good way)

have you ever, or are you currently dating anyone in your top 5?
yes I used to. ;-)

Would 1 do anything for you?
I think she would, she's nice like that.

How do you feel when 2 hugs you?
It's been a while, but she's a good hugger.

It's hard to act offended when you're laughing as hard as I am.

Wisconsin Voter-beware of gay eskimos!

Tuesday, October 31, 2006


I don't know if this would bug me so much if I wasn't SO tired, but whatever. So, there's a temporary ban on adopting or buying black cats during the Halloween season. Not long, just about a week before Halloween. This is to prevent people who may want to adopt the cat for some sort of Halloween weirdness or cruelty who have no actual intentions of caring for it. I think that's fine. I mean, really. If this temporary restriction saves even one cat, then I think it's worth it.

HERE'S the problem: There are people who are actively against this temporary ban. And you wanna know why? Ok, I'll tell you. If you're ready to hear the most short bus thing you've ever heard. These people are opposed to it because IT PERPETUATES A NEGATIVE STIGMA OF BLACK CATS.

I'm sorry, but the fucking cats don't even know they're black. I can GUARANTEE they don't give a shit. Cats don't give a shit about anything. But stupid people have to go get all worked up over it.

This is the point whereI would add my commentary. And point out all the reasons this is fucking ridiculous, and all of the more serious problems this country should be worrying about. But this sort of douchebag insanity speaks for itself.

Happy Halloween, stupid black cat ban protesters. I hope your children get apples with razor blades in them.

I'm going to try and take a nap now.

A Cornucopia of Topics, (If You Will)*

1. My dog ate my toothbrush last night. I think it was out of anger, but I'm not sure. My dog only knows how to look happy.

2. My ex-girlfriend and her wife were in town visiting this weekend. I know it's weird, but I love the wife, and I love the ex SO much more that I don't have to be with her. She's so much easier to get along with. I had such a good time with them, that I literally cried when the weekend was over. The only thing that kind of sucked is more of my friends from Law School or the Gayborhood couldn't meet them.

3. In the past 2 weeks I have recieved my 2 favorite text messages ever: One of them I can't repeat because it's a poem using my actual name, and even though the only people who read this actually know my real name, on the off chance someone else does, I don't want to take a chance. However, since the poem was SO drunkenly written, the end part doesn't rhyme so I'll tell you that it involved pajamas, grandmas, and llamas. I love her!!

And the SECOND text from someone who shall remain nameless but is SO f****** funny, sent to me this regarding a friend with a fake leg: "We just took D's leg off to hit a stripper upside the head" I re-read that like every day to make me laugh.

4. I've been awake since about 3 in the morning. I hate that I can't sleep very well. BUT I did get to watch "Blast From The Past" starring Brendan Frasier and Alicia Silverstone.

5. More salmonella outbreaks. If I were a salmon, I'd sue over the name salmonella. I wonder if salmonella also swims upstream.

6. George Bush STILL says nuculer. What a fuckstain.

7. I have to take the MPRE on Saturday.

* bonus points if you remember why I chose these specific words.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Is Kelly Ripa on crack?

Seriously. What's wrong with her?

Sunday, October 15, 2006

My Love Affair with Law School

Is over. OH MY GOD IT IS SO OVER. I'm sitting here at my table, trying to research caselaw for class tomorrow. I've been at the computer for 2 hours. In that time, I have:

1. Googled "Paris and Nicole" to see if they're still getting along.
2. Googled my ex who I broke up with in, like 1998.
3. Googled all of the attorneys who I work for.
4. Googled Karl Lagerfeld.
5. Worried about whether I was a fundamentally good person.
6. Went on Ebay to see if they had any vintage Karl Lagerfeld.
7. Googled Siamese Twins to see how many different sets I could find pictures of.
8. Went to, my favorite political website to see if there's any new dish on the Mark Foley Scandal AKA "Pagefuckergate".
9. Looked at pictures from my best friends wedding. All 534,635,245 of them. I look fat in about half.
10. Stared blankly into space.
11. Thought about different kinds of soups.

But I have not looked up any case law.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

E-Coli Outbreak- A conspiracy?

I think it is. I think it's a conspiracy by the fast food industry. Here's why:

Today I went to get my lunch at the salad bar at my university. It usually looks pretty fresh and they always have bacon bits so I am excited. I fill my bowl with lettuce and cucumber and broccoli and all of the rest of the veggie crap that goes in salads. I top it off with the aforementioned bacon bits and sparingly add some vinaigrette dressing. You know, keeping it healthy-ish.

Then I walk to the counter to pay. My salad costs about $4.50. I pay the lady, leave, and walk down to the law school student lounge to eat it.

I sit down next to my friend and start eating my salad. I get about two bites in when news reports start flashing through my mind. Spinach. E-coli. Fresh lettuce. New threats in new lettuce. People are dying from salad.

I look down at my salad, trying to see if I can see E-coli in there somewhere. Shit. You can't see E-coli. I try other methods of testing to see if my salad is tainted. I put the lid back in and shake the salad up, testing to see how well the dressing sticks to the lettuce. That may give me some answers. Except that I don't remember ever shaking my salad to see how well the dressing sticks before, so I have no basis for comparison. And of course I smell the salad. Again, not knowing what E-Coli smells like.

I decide to just get over it, and eat the freakin salad. I bought it, and it's certainly not tainted with E-Coli. I open the lid back up and get ready to take a bite. But once you start thinking E-Coli, it's kind of hard to put that fear to rest. So I threw my brand new salad away.

So long story short, here's the conspiracy: I am now eating an Arby's crispy chicken sandwich with bacon and an order of fries. For health reasons.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Random Thoughts

I keep on thinking that I want to write something important. Or tell a story of all the crazy things/people/events that have occurred in my life. Apparently I don't have the attention span to tell a full story.

So here a few tidbits:

1. I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE the Mark Foley Scandal. I can't get enough of it. Every last sordid detail is freakin GENIUS. The only problem is that the the stupid crappy republican douchebags are actually trying to turn this into not only a Democratic conspiracy as far as the timing of the revelation that Foley was a dirty little page banger, but ALSO turn it into a gay conspiracy. Like all the gay members of the house all knew and had Foley's back so they too get could some young boy page lovin' of their own. I don't think that anyone is going to believe that though. So I can go back to completely loving this tawdry nonsense.

2. Everything else in the news is unspeakbly awful. Little Amish Girls. North Korea. A real live Silence of the Lambstorture chamber. A father stabbing to death his four children. All of the school shootings. A triple murder right here in Chicago this weekend. Tapered jeans making a comeback. Fuck. Judy Baar Topinka. We really need to get a TV Channel or a newspaper that only contains information on the Mark Foley scandal and... Brangelina. It's really all I can handle right now.

3. I had a weird experience this weekend. Someone came in town for a last minute visit . Primarily to see me. And the fairly bizarre situation got me really overwhelmed, freaked out, and spooked, and ultimately I didn't, or wouldn't see her at all. And I probably lost a pretty cool new friend as a result. It's a miracle I have any friends at all.

4. There's a new show on television. It's called Brothers and Sisters. Calista Flockhart is in it, but she doesn't drive me crazy. She's ok. The whole cast is actually pretty great. It's sort of funny, and very sad, and the writing is beautiful.

5. Interesting fact: Actors get paid more to do commercials for douches, hemorrhoid cream, and stuff about herpes and other STD's.

6. I've been not smoking for something like 10 weeks.

7. Two dogs I know have their own myspace page. My dog is friends with these two dogs, even though one of them (I'm not certain which, but I have my suspicians) bit my dog's ear and we came home to blood all over the apartment last year. Anyway, I think my dog should have her own myspace page, too.

8. I have applied for one job, post law school. One. That's just one more than none. I am so fucked if I don't get it. However, I did have my first interview, and it went VERY well. Probably because the person interviewing me was a lesbian who I had met before at a big gay law school thing. Still, one application? How fucking retarded.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Drinking Games

I don't know if I lost or won. But I was deeeerunk. I really am going to try and write something relevant to something soon.

Right now I'm on the couch watching a Law & Order marathon. But this is all that's registering:

Cop: Blah blah blah

Bad guy in handcuffs: Blah Blah Blah

Cop (to another cop): Get him the hell outta here.

Monday, September 25, 2006

Dear Diary,

I am not happy today for the following reasons:

1. I got in a fight with the treasurer on the board of the student group I am president of. She was kind of mean. And wrong. So I was really mean back.

2. I have really bad cramps

3. My back really hurts, and chiropractors are stupid, and I feel ripped off.

4. I talked to not 1, not 2, not 3, but 4 of my exes yesterday. 2 in person, and 2 called me. But all 4 of them seem happier now than when they were with me.

5. It's getting darker earlier now. And I've started to really hate the dark.

6. The news lately is grimmer than usual. At least it seems grimmer.

That's all. Oh, and no one believes in me. Waaaawaaaaaawaaaa

Oh, and I actually saw a homeless woman fingering herself on the train tonight. it was pretty gross.

Saturday, September 23, 2006


is God smart? seriously. do religious people consider God to be smart? I'm not being sarcastic or snarky or whatever. I just want to know.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Shoes and the Law Part II and Sadness

So the other day, I'm at work. It's a particularly good day. I'm feeling pretty good about myself. I got the most amazing letters of recommendattion from the Assistant State's Attorney's who I work for. I got a lot done. I felt very accomplished all in all. And I felt kind of cool. And like I belonged there. Very comfortable. As I walk to my car at the end of the day, I admit it, I was strutting a little. Until I stepped in my car and realized I was wearing two different shoes. One brown and one black. That's really all I can say about that.

On my way home, I stop at the market to get something for dinner. I go up to the guy at the butcher counter, and ask for a filet mignon. The butcher sort of looks at me like he wants to flirt a little. Which I am not opposed to. It's totally fine. Harmless. He asks me which one I wanted. I tell him a small one because it's just for me. His facial expression changed. And before he could stop himself, he said "Awww. That's so......sad" EXCUSE ME? SAD?

I didn't know quite what to say. Was it sad? Or did he mean I am sad, like as in pathetic? I said something like "Yeah... well... long day, mumble mumble mumble" and hoped the discussion would be over with Mr. Meat. But he continues by introducing himself to me and offering to COME OVER AFTER HIS SHIFT TO SHARE THE FILET WITH ME!!! I am totally not kidding. And neither was he. I look at him with the most withering, demeaning, "I-am-so-much-better-than-you" stare I could possibly muster up, and said to him "what's SAD is that you think you're good enough to even TALK to me" and I grabbed my filet and left. Yes, it was a mean thing to say. But screw it!
So a girl is only entitled to eat filet mignon when she has a significant other to share it with? The rest of us just have to eat ground llama? Fuck you, Meat Guy.

Then I went home, and made my filet, and ate it, more aware than ever of the fact that I was eating it alone.

Saturday, September 02, 2006

I met a future serial killer (and his mother)

So I heard this weird fact on Dr. Phil. And I think it's probably true. Because A. Dr. PHIL said it, B. I also think I read it somewhere else, and C. It makes complete sense. Here's the fact:

There was a research study done, and one of the characteristics that all (or almost all) serial killers have in common is they would abuse animals as children.

So I'm walking my adorable dog. (See above) And about a block away from me there was a mother and her three year old-ish son. Since the kid isn't in a stroller I decide to slow down my pace, just in case the kid gets afraid of dogs. That's the nice thing to do. The dog is sniffing around, keeping to herself, staring at squirrels, whatever. All of a sudden the child starts running towards me with a stick in his hand. A long and fairly thick stick. I don't do anything. Just move to the side so he could run by. But he doesn't. He stops in front of MY SWEET DOG AND WHACKS HER WITH THE STICK! And you know that horrible sound that dogs make when they're startled and hurt at the same time? Like if you accidentally step on one of their paws. If you've ever heard the sound, you're not likely to forget it. And MY DOG MAKES THAT SOUND.
Keep in mind, if this was an adult who did this, I would have slapped him or her. And I don't hit people. Ever. But you can't slap a child. And even if you could, you could only slap your OWN child. Trust me, though, I wanted to. Instead I said in a very sweet and soft voice "Sweetie, this is my dog. She loves when people pet her, and I bet she'd love it if you petted her. But she gets scared when people hit her and it hurts animals when they get hit. Just like it hurts people."

And the kid looks at me with these big, wide, adorable child eyes. And he smiled at me. AND THEN HE HIT MY DOG WITH THE STICK AGAIN!!!

I was completely stunned. I look down the street as his mother slowly approaches us. If I were the mother, I would have been mortified. She doesn't seem to be in much of a rush to remedy the situation. So, I take the dog, and step away from the kid and keep my dog on the other side of me, and wait for the mother to say something to me. And when she finally gets within speaking distance I said to her with a smile "Your son keeps on hitting my dog with a stick." I figured at this point she'd do something. Apologize. Yell at the kid. Tell him why hitting dogs is naughty. Anything. No. This is what happened: She looked at me with a glare and said "exCUSE us" and walked right past me.

At that point, I wanted to grab the stick away from the kid, and beat the mom with it. But no. I just stood there. And I didn't stick up for myself. Or my dog. It's a good thing dogs have short memories. People should have the same luxury.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

To the girl in front of me in the salad bar line:

Bitch, you either like garbonzo beans or you don't. There is absolutely no reason under the sun why you needed to agonize over the decision as long as you did. What WERE you thinking about? What really was the debate going on in your head? What would happen if you DIDN'T get the garbonzo beans? Or what would happen if you DID? Who are you? The Hamlet of Salad Bars? In the future, I would suggest just getting the garbonzo beans and keeping them sort of together and to the side , and if you then realized (I'm sure to your utter horror) that you made the wrong decision, and you didn't want the garbonzo beans afterall, you (or someone you trust) could remove them with some ease.

Oh, and please. If you are ever on a plane don't sit in an exit row. I just don't think you could handle it.

Oh. And throw away the ugly ass sweater that you were wearing.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

The other side of the argument

So, this was an actual conversation I was involved in, at the little bar next to the law school. And yeah, people did get a little obnoxious, and I felt sort of sorry for this guy, because he was put SO much on the defensive when he actually really did try not to engage in a battle while we were celebrating our last first day of law school.

This dude is a perfect example of so much of the conflict in my life. And NO, not whether or not to be who I am and love who I choose to love. I do that happily and comfortably. But how tolerant can I expect those who oppose my beliefs to be, when I so am so intolerant and hostile of their different beliefs? BUT, on the other hand, their beliefs are in SUCH conflict with mine that I feel I have to stand up, and be a bitch, and be loud, and be strong, and be assertive.

How does dialogue or change ever happen like this? Or am I supposed to accept that it never will?

And am I supposed to apologize?

And by the way, I think the gay people at the table were actually more "respectful" than a few of the others. I wonder if he caught that. But, then again, should I care?

I am starting to believe that "tolerance" is in the same category as the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, and Justice.

PS... I still am a non smoker. over a 5 weeks now. yay me.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Ode to the Airshow


Here's a list of why I hate the airshow and these are in no particular order:

1. Inevitably, I have forgotten that the airshow is going to happen, because it's so fucking dumb. Therefore, I'll be driving down Lake Shore Drive, thinking it's a lovely normal day, and all of a sudden, there is a deafening noise and 6 fighter planes flying in formation TOWARDS THE CENTER OF DOWNTOWN FUCKING CHICAGO. As a fairly skiddish person anyway, my first thought is naturally, "Oh my God. It's 9-11 all over again. Someone is attacking Chicago. The city is under fire. We're all going to die." And it's the most horrifying feeling in the world. So, fuck you, Airshow for making me so scared.

2. It's supposed to be for people who love planes, right? Who REALLY love planes, right? We're talking about people who would have a picture of a plane airbrushed on the back of their denim jacket, right? Well, then what the fuck are they doing on the ground watching? Get IN the plane, Loser! Go learn to fly! Go build a plane. Don't just watch. I feel the same way about people who love horses, but you people are WORSE than horse people. At least horse people RIDE HORSES! Yes, Airshow... you suck more than the rodeo.

3. Does anyone know how much money it costs to GAS these planes? Fucking retarded.

4. Most of these planes were designed to be fighter planes. Doesn't it seem a little, ummm TACKY? We're fucking AT war right now, Stupid Airshow!!! All you're exhibiting is what millions of people in the Middle East hear and see and live (or die) everyday. And you glorify it, and beautify it. Haven't we seen enough of this sort of douchebaggery, Airshow War Glorifier?

5. If you insist on having your stupid little airshow, go do it inside somewhere. Or away from the city. You are FORCING me to watch it, and hear it and experience it. And I don't want to!!! Fuck you, Airshow Jerkoff.

I'm sure I'll think of some more, but in the meantime, since you are ruining my last weekend before law school starts, I'm going to pray like I've never prayed before for a big huge thunderstorm that lasts the entire weekend so your little plane party gets rained out. Jackass.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Shoes & The Law

After work today, I went to a very large shoe store. I went to buy new work-ish shoes. Something practical, but still sort of sexy. I don't really like shoe shopping, but I looked at every single appropriate pair. There was only one pair in the entire store that I liked. So I bought them. It wasn't until I got home that I realized that I already owned the shoes. Same style, same designer, same color. The EXACT same shoe.

But it gets worse. I then realized that not only did I buy a pair of shoes I already owned, but I was actually WEARING them when I purchased the new pair. I am a 'tard.

By the way, does anyone know if it's ok to wear high-heeled boots (sort of the Go-Go Boots Style) to work in a courthouse in the winter? I'm hoping the answer is yes, but be honest.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

An introduction

Hi. I'm Grace. I'm a 3L in Law Scool.

I'm doing this blog for a couple of reasons. First, I've recently become somewhat of a recluse and I rarely talk to people anymore. The problem is that I still have a lot to say. So, I'll say it here. Second, I'm bored. Third, everyone else is doing it. And since we all know that incessant need to talk+boredom+peer pressure = coke whore or blogger, I'll go with blogger.

I don't know if anyone will ever read this, and I sort of don't care, because like everything else under the sun, this is about me. But if you happen upon my little page here, feel free to comment. Or feel free not to. I'm excited to be doing this, but then again, it feels like the same excitement whenever I buy a new journal. And I plan to write in it EVERY DAY, and then 5 years later I look at my bookshelf and decide it's definitely time to get rid of twenty-two of those F****** journals that each have like, one entry written in them. So I guess I hope this works out differently, but I'm not holding my breath.