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.