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.