Sunday, December 30, 2007
It doesn't sound so bad. I mean, it needs to be changed up a bit. the whole religion part of it isn't going to fly. And the fact that the "sister-wives" don't um... have... their own fun as a group is a bit preposterous. And clearly the no drinking thing would have to go.
But other than that? It's a pretty ok deal. I could have a sister-wife do the ironing.
I could have another sister-wife get my oil changed. And another one could stand around and tell me jokes.
It all seems quite delightful.
However, I'm concerned that I don't have anything to bring to my polygamist family. I have a LOT of student loan debt. I have a wonderful job, but I can't even pay for my own mani/pedis let alone all my sister wives.
I think I need to stop ironing. I'm just going to send my shirts to the cleaners.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Two girls get on the bus. They're sort of dressed... well...let's just say I might be able to hazard a guess as to their sexual orientation. And I can also tell they are probably a couple. The older of the two looks familiar, but I can't put my finger on it. Anyway, the younger one kisses the older one, and I, realizing that I was sort of staring, quickly went back to reading my book. The thought crosses my mind that I sort of wish I had a girl to ride the the bus with and kiss. I also thought about how nice it was that I live in a place where it's not weird for girls to kiss girls on buses.
The young one saw me looking at them and looking away.
"Uh... No need to STARE, honey. We'll pose for a picture if you're so fascinated!"
Is she talking to me? Haha. She is. Oops. Well, I was sort of staring, and my super conservative black skirt suit and pearls doesn't exactly do much to help. I look like I could be BFF's with Ann Coulter right now. Oh well.
"Yeah. We're LEEEEEHHHHZZZBIANS. We're so SCARY, aren't we, honey?"
The older one just sort of kept quiet, supporting her girlfriend by doing that half laugh thing that people do when they need to show solidarity with their partner who's being an ass.
Ooooooh. I just figured out how I knew the older one!!!
"Honey, you are, like, IN Lesbianville! Don't worry, we won't attack you. Don't be scared."
Jesus. I reach into my briefcase, and fumble around for my wallet. I'm looking for a little piece of paper. I really am hoping I didn't throw it away. Ugh. I bet I did.
"Oh, Blondie, we're passing a church! Maybe you want to get out and pray for our souls!"
OH what a bitch. The older one is now trying a little harder to quiet down her girlfriend. She got a better look at me. She's trying to figure out how she knows me. I'm still looking for the piece of paper.
"Honey, can I go down on you right here on the bus? It would be worth it to see the look on her face."
I found it. I have it in my hand. Fuck her. Oh this is going to be so good. The older one is just beginning to figure it out. I can see the wheels sort of turning in her head. She's trying to remember how drunk she was at that bar a few weeks ago. She has a vague memory of grabbing a blonde girls ass and giving the girl her phone number on the back of an ATM receipt. All of a sudden she knows what I'm holding in my hand.
It's my stop. I get up, and walk towards the exit. Right before I get off, I am going to hand the phone number to the loud young one, and say... well.. I don't know. Something clever. With every step closer, the older one looks more and more terrified. I am smiling ear to ear. I have the piece of paper in my hand. I am so ready to go.
And then, I don't know what happened. I felt really sorry for the older one. If I handed her girlfriend the piece of paper, I would ruin her Christmas. And I didn't want to do that. So, I just got off the bus, and threw the number in the garbage can.
The moral of the story? I do SO have holiday spirit.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
But wait. It's not just me, is it? No.
It's her. And her. And her. And her. And her. And her. And her. And her. And her. And her. And her.
And tons of others. You're a very busy little guy, aren't you? Now, of course I don't give you credit for ALL of the disgusting and threatening comments made on blogs, but you are definitely doing your fair share.
Because you read my blog EVERY DAY, I'm certain you know that I personally know many of the female lawyers who you also harass and threaten. Well, on occasion, the subject of the anonymous person who wishes to "take a dump on my chest to 'fiz' my problems" among other things, comes up over drinks.
There are two things we always agree on:
1. We don't understand why someone who is clearly as stupid as you are would ever be interested in the lives of female attorneys, which, as you know, most of us are.
2. You REALLY need attention.
Well, I don't think we'll ever know the answer to #1, unless I address issue #2, and give you some attention. In the spirit of enlightenment, I present you with an invitation:
72.94.142 from Allentown, PA-
YOU ARE INVITED TO BE A GUEST BLOGGER ON LAW WITH GRACE!!!!!!
When: This is an open invitation. Whenever you get up the courage.
Where: Here. Duh. Just email me your post at firstname.lastname@example.org I won't change a single word of it.
What: Anything you want to write about. girls, lawyers, high school, dungeons and dragons, work, whatever you want.
Rules: Very simple...
1. No linking to outside websites.
2. No revealing real identities of bloggers that you might happen to know.
3. You must answer this simple question: What is it about our blogs that compels you to leave the comments that you leave?
So there you go. you have your forum. Let's see what you can come up with.
PS. If you choose to decline my invitation, consider this a formal request to stay the fuck off my blog, and to get a fucking life.
PPS. This offer is open to any other anonymous commenters. All you have to do is email me and take credit for one of the harassing comments on one of the aforementioned blogs, and we're in business.
PPPS. Lest you think I'm an idiot, please know that I am not holding my breath. You are much too big of a coward to take me up on my invitation.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Taking a Cab from the El Station to ensure I wouldn't be late: $6.00
Bottle of Wine Back at My Place: $18.00
Whimsically Offering to Pay Half the Dinner Bill: $34.00
Listening to My Ex Talk about the the NEW Ex?: Priceless.
Wait... Let me do the math again....
Actually, that comes to, like $148.00
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Me: You KNOW how hard I am trying to keep a positive attitude about the holiday season. You know I'm tired of being called a grinch. Why in the world would you break my brand new Santa candy dish and eat all the M&M's? Why? Why? Why?
Dog: Because people who talk to dogs deserve to have their Santa candy dishes broken, you dumb whore.
Me: Chocolate is poison for dogs. Poison, I say!
Dog: So I could die? So maybe this will be the last day I ever have to spend with your sorry ass? There's no way I would have such stellar luck. Unfortunately, I'll be just fine, Loser.
Me: What's with the attitude? You used to be such a good sweet dog. Lots of cute looks and kisses...
Dog: How many times do I have to tell you? Those aren't kisses. I'm trying to wipe the taste of my own genitals off my tongue. You think that's a kiss? Who have you been hanging out with, Skank?
Me: Ok. You make a good point. But seriously. Why did you eat all the chocolate? You know it just means I'll be up all night cleaning up diarrhea.
Dog: Again, you're talking to me like this is something I give a fuck about. I'm not gonna clean it up. Your ugly ass is.
Me: I'm not ugly.
Dog: Yes you are.
Me: No I'm not.
Dog: Yes you are.
Me: Fine. I am. If calling me ugly makes you feel better, then fine. I'm ugly.
Dog: Fine. Glad we finally agree on something. Now put the leash on me, bitch. I'm about to have the runs.
Me: Ok. thanks for the notice.
Dog: Shut up.
Monday, November 26, 2007
That's right. You're a complete asshole. What kind of person watches someone slip down a flight of stairs (yes, readers, Grace has no grace. Apparently Grace also refers to herself in the third person, but that's a separate issue) and instead of saying "oh my god are you ok?" shakes their head disapprovingly and says, "Why do you wear those?" referring to my shoes? I'll tell you what kind of person does that: A TOTAL FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!
Seriously. Who the fuck do you think you are? You are fucking lucky you didn't end up with the heel to "those" smashed into your spinal column.
I mean, it's not like I popped up all fine and dandy and brushed myself off. No. I was down for the count. There were tears. There may or may not have been a yelp followed by a moment of whimpering. You fucking stepped around a crying, hurt woman to make your snide little comment. I hope you feel good about yourself.
Fucking prick. Jerk. Jackass. I hope your dick falls off.
PS. You are ridiculously unattractive.
PPS. If anyone cares, I'm fine.
PPPS. It's not like I was wearing stripper shoes in the snow. It was clear and dry, and clearly the heel isn't insanely high. Right? Of course I'm right. Asshole.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Her new puppy. Who she named GRACE. Yes. My big sister named her dog Grace. And not Grace, as in my pseudonym for this blog. I mean, my REAL name.
Here's what the night sounded like:
"Grace, congrats on getting sworn in as a lawyer!"
"Ooops! Grace made a poopie on the kitchen floor!"
"Grace, how's your new condo?"
"Grace is eating the cat's food again!"
"Grace! NO! NO!"
"Look at how cute Grace is!"
"Grace! NO BEGGING! NO!"
"Grace... did you just make a skinky?"
Suffice it to say the night was very confusing.
What the fuck? What kind of person gives her puppy the same name as her sister?
Don't even get me started on how much I dislike Bichons. Sorry if you own one.
They just look evil.
PS. That's not a picture of Grace. But it's what she looks like.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
I'm cheating on my salad bar. With Alejandro.
I love my salad bar, because I love the idea of getting exactly what I want. And that's what a salad bar is all about. Choices. Well, you know sometimes I don't want to make choices. I want them made for me.
So today, I walked into my salad bar. I picked up my plastic to go container. I walked over to the selection of toppings. And froze. It was all just too much. I felt overwhelmed. Too many choices. I couldn't do it. So I walked out.
I walked around the block looking for something to eat. Nothing seemed to grab my attention. Corner Bakery sucks. Au Bon Pain sucks more. Panera sucks the most. (Sorry Lilly).
Inexplicably, I wandered into a restaurant I never noticed before. I never caught the name of it, but I'm sure I'll know it soon enough.
I walked to the back of the restaurant and read the sign "Create your own salad! 3 toppings w/ a protein- $5.99!"
Alejandro's eyes met mine. "What do you want?" he said. I pointed to the sign.
"Ok," he said evenly. "Mixed greens or romaine?"
I shrug. It's not that I am indifferent. I just don't know what I want. He doesn't wait long for an answer.
"OK, then. You get romaine." I smiled gratefully. He knew. He's seen it before. And he was prepared.
"It's not a BBQ chicken day, is it? Grilled chicken, right?"
I nodded again. I might have gotten a little teary. Alejandro knew me. He GOT me.
"OK, Lady. Now you pick three toppings. Wait... let's just do one at a time. Can you pick one topping?"
"Mushrooms," I said.
Alejandro smiled. "Nice. Very nice. Mushrooms are good. Can you pick another one?"
Feeling more confident, I burst out with "cucumbers!!"
"Oh, yeah, honey. Cucumbers are so good. Good girl. Now one more."
I was spent. "I don't know," I confessed.
Alejandro knew. Fuck yeah, he knew. "OK, then I give you broccoli." I could have kissed him.
I was done. I'd made it to the other side. Almost. Alejandro needed more from me.
"What dressing do you want?"
We stood there staring into each other's eyes, challenging each other, each waiting for the other to answer first.
Finally, I couldn't handle it anymore and blurted out "FAT FREE RANCH!"
He exhaled, and gently shook his head, like I had been a very bad girl.
"You're getting ginger-soy, Lady."
I blushed and nodded my head. Ginger soy it was.
And as Alejandro fervently drizzled the ginger soy all over my salad, I knew it would be a lunch I wouldn't soon forget.
Monday, November 05, 2007
You died a year ago today. You were found face down on a bed. Of a heroin overdose. with some other junkie dude.
No one will ever ever ever replace you in my heart. My life will never be the same.
Your mom sent an email, trying to remind those who love you to remember you for your strength, your humor, your kindness and your love. I am trying. But I can't help but sense what the world is missing without your presence in it.
We'd known each other for such a long time, yet kind of a short time. And I remember a long time ago, this one moment. i don't know what you said, or what was going on, but I felt like doing or saying something cynical. Because that's who I am... A cynical bitch. But then. I looked at you and I stopped myself. And I promised myself that I would never ever be cynical with you. I would start believing in happy endings. And, with you. I never was cynical again. Until then...
Ironic. Because as it turns out, people like you are the very reason cynicism exists.
But nonetheless, today I just cry for you. and i feel sorry for the whole world. that they don't get to have you anymore. but, selfishly, I'm saddest for me.
I miss you. So much.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Cast of Characters:
- Grace- A woman with a hypothesis, some friends, and a nice pair of legs, and of course a resting B.A.C. of slightly above the legal limit. Works for a talent agency, although she's been applying to law schools in the Midwest.
- Esmerelda- A stunningly beautiful actress, with a middle eastern look, but I forgot exactly where her family is from. She's very well educated, has an inquisitive mind, and a belly dancers body. Grace and Esmerelda have been known to.. enjoy the vino on occasion.
- Coleman- Grace's friend from High School, and Esmerelda's friend from her undergrad years. Coleman is a big black dude with adorable freckles, and dreadlocks, and he is a ridiculously talented musician. He also likes to smoke the pot.
- BJ- Grace's roommate. A stand-up comic who enjoys working bits of Grace's personal life into his stand up routines. His fiancee broke up with him. She's a porn star now. For real.
- The Time: Scene I is in the present, the rest of the play occurs one winter night in 2003.
- The Place: Grace's house in Los Angeles.
*Note from playwright- the events in this play occur in reverse order. Sort of like Harold Pinter's "Betrayal" or Stephen Sondheim's "Merrily We Roll Along" if that helps.
Scene I- The present
Grace and Esmerelda on the phone
Esmerelda: Remember that night a couple of years ago?
Grace: Of course I do. We were REALLY drunk.
Esmerelda: People think we're gross.
Grace: Who cares what people think? It's normal to be curious.
Esmerelda: That's true. Everyone experiments, right?
Grace: RIGHT! You're right though. People haven't responded how I thought they would. I didn't think people would be so... disturbed. I'm not ashamed though. I had fun.
Esmerelda: Me too!
Scene II- 2003
BJ: Whose frying pan did you use?
Grace: Um.... whose is the small one?
Grace: Then we used yours.
BJ: Fuck you Grace! You are buying me a new frying pan.
Grace: Wow! I was right. I KNEW IT!!!!
Esmerelda: That's really cool.
Coleman: Wow. I'm amazed no one's ever tried this before. Who's gonna eat it now?
Grace: No fucking way.
Esmerelda: No fucking way.
BJ enters looking suspicious
BJ: Hey Guys. What the fuck are you doing?
Esmerelda: Are we just supposed to sit here and wait?
Grace: I guess. I don't want to watch him, do you?
Esmerelda: No, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't want us watching him.
Coleman: Ok bitches, get in here!
Esmerelda: That was fast.
Grace: Yeah, REALLY fast! (yelling to Coleman) Is the frying pan hot?
Coleman: Yes. Get in here.
Grace: Did you add margarine or olive oil?
Coleman: Of course. Hurry up!
Grace and Esmerelda run to the kitchen.
Coleman: It should go in a bowl first. Not directly into a hot frying pan. I don't want to drunkenly explain this to the ER at Cedars Sinai.
Esmerelda: No. You're right. Your wife will kill you. And us.
Grace: I'm going to go find a suitable frying pan. Who wants more wine?
Esmerelda: Just bring out the whole bottle. And I think we should use a small frying pan. no offense Coleman.
Coleman: None taken, Es.
Esmerelda: You'd really do this for us, Coleman?
Coleman: Sure! Why not.
Grace: Are you sure you're going to be able to? Aren't you a little too drunk?
Coleman: I'm never too drunk to masturbate into a hot frying pan for you two ladies.
Grace and Esmerelda (in unison): Awwwwwwwwww!!!!
Esmerelda: I hear it's good for your hair.
Coleman: It's a great source of protein.
Grace: I wonder if Atkins endorses blow jobs?
Coleman: They should.
Grace: You know what else I wonder. The whites of a raw egg are very similar in consistency. The whites of an egg are also very high in protein.
Esmerelda: Yes. Very true. Go on...
Grace: Do you think the same thing would happen to jizz if we fried it?
Esmerelda: I don't know. But we HAVE to find out.
All eyes are on Coleman.
Coleman: I'll do it.
Grace: Should I open another bottle?
Coleman: Go for it.
The end. Or... the beginning.
Grace: it DOES fry the same.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Really....? You are? That's SO intimidating!!! Way to put your foot down!
This post was originally going to be a rant on how people continuously misuse that phrase. But before I did it, I, being a top-notch researcher, googled the phrase to make sure that I was right and the rest of the world is wrong.
See, I thought drawing a line in the sand meant you're taking a meaningless stand against something that is out of your control.
Turns out I was wrong. Drawing a line in the sand really does mean "establishing a limit beyond which things will be unacceptable."
I understand the concept of drawing a line to separate the acceptable from the unacceptable. Lines make sense. But a line...IN THE SAND?
Ok. bear with me. Let's pretend you're on the beach. It's sunny. It's pretty. It's a fucking joyous damn day. You decide to draw a line in the sand. You draw your line. Five minutes later, you steal one of your brother's ritalin pills, go run off with your friends and practice french kissing behind the cabana.
An hour later, you go back to check on your line, and guess what? You can't find it. Why? BECAUSE YOU DREW IT IN THE SAND, FUCKNUT.
Even if you don't steal one of your brother's ritalin pills and run off to practice french kissing. Even if you stand by and guard your precious line that you drew in the sand. Either the wind, the surf, a bird or a person is going to fuck up your line in a matter of minutes. Why? BECAUSE YOU DREW IT IN THE SAND!
If you want to draw a line to separate the acceptable from the unacceptable, USE SOMETHING OTHER THAN SAND. Use red wine on beige carpeting to draw your line for example. That should do the trick. Or use permanent marker on khakis. Whatever.
But if you try to tell me you are drawing a line in the sand as a way of making a point to me, you can guarantee that I will respect that line about as long as that line would actually exist in nature. And then I'll call you names both to your face and behind your back.
It's a stupid phrase. It makes no sense. Don't use it. If you think I'm wrong, you're wrong.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Yet I will write it anyway.
I have done nothing this weekend. And when I say nothing, I don't mean nothing productive. I mean nothing. Except for drink wine and watch Law & Order episodes. And this morning I watched Detroit beat Chicago. Now I'm back to watching Law & Order.
Aside: If I did NOT vote for you on American Idol, I do NOT WANT TO SEE/READ/HEAR about your successes. DO YOU HEAR ME CARRIE UNDERWOOD?
My neighbor just called 311 which is the non-emergency number for the police to report that a neighbors dog has been howling and acting strangely, and apparently has been outside for the last 5 or 6 days. Then, when the 311 operator asked for her contact information, she handed me the phone and made me give mine. So now I'm waiting for the cops to call. The dog did look awfully sad. I tried tossing dog treats to him, but he wouldn't move.
Aside: If you spent last new years with me, will you please remind me what we did? Because I don't remember. AT ALL.
Speaking of dogs, above is a picture of mine. She's been pleasant-ish lately. She's cut down on the profanity at least.
"Love in the Time of Cholera" is a horrible name for a movie. Yet I can't lie. I'm intrigued.
A friend of mine gave me a list of reasons why people will love me. How fucking cool is that? I'm not going to post the list, because that would be embarrassing, but it's pretty awesome.
I want to write something clever, but it's just not going to happen.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Now that I work the same hours as every other person in Chicago, I'm often on VERY CROWDED TRAINS. It makes taking pictures of loud talkers difficult. For example, the loud talkers in this post were standing SO CLOSE to me that one of their asses was right in my face (I miraculously got a seat).
I'm keeping this short because loud talker posts are only interesting when you see their faces.
Anyway... Loud Talker #1 ("LT1") was going to a poker party at Loud Talker 2's ("LT2") crib. Yes. LT2 lives in a crib.
LT2 thinks that there might be as many as 12 people at his crib for the poker party. LT1 doesn't mind sitting out. He lost "a couple of C's" last time.
Then they talked about sports. Really loudly. Then they talked about this one time when they were dancing with all these "honeys"
Then I put this sign on the back of LT1's trenchcoat and took a picture. It's the best I could do. I hope it sticks long enough to have someone point it out to him.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Daisy: is it bad that BISMOW and I did a juvenile diabetes walk for charity while completely hung over?
Grace: No. that's awesome. I went to a children’s oncology fundraiser and got TRASHED
Grace: that brings up something I've been meaning to blog about...
Daisy: ooh what is that?
Grace: why do so many charity events involve running or walking? Why can't we have, like the "AIDS sit and drink"?
Daisy: and my two cents…please explain to me this- you want me to raise money and then you want me to run?
Daisy: where is the incentive? I want to raise money to sit in a bar! or shop! or eat delicious food!
Grace: I will get SO many people to sponsor me to sit on a bar stool and do shots with my friends, all in the name of Poverty
Daisy: YES, i'd much rather say, give me money for childhood cancer prevention, and in return i'll dedicate a shot to YOU
Grace: "Daisy and Grace's Drink Til You Can’t See Straight For Literacy"
Daisy: "YES Daisy & Grace Invite You to Drink to Obliviousness so We Can Obliviate Cancer!"
Grace: YES "Get Blacked out! So we can black out Autism"
Daisy: "Drink Like a Fish to Save the Fish & Lakes"
Grace: "Get the shakes..... for Parkinsons"
Daisy: "Shots for Violence Prevention"
Grace: ok... those last two may not fly.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
"What can I get for you, Honey?" the guy behind the counter said.
"Um. This morning on the el platform, I got mad and threw my briefcase, and when I did, my xanax and my lipstick flew out of the side pocket, and fell into the alley behind your store. I don't expect to find the xanax, but I really love the lipstick, and I think Mac discontinued the color. Do you think I could go back there and take a look?"
"Uh.. sure honey... go ahead."
So, roughly 36 hours after I found out that I passed the bar, my friend broke up with me. It's weird. I've never been dumped by a friend. I spent some time thinking about it, and I sort of realized that I REALLY had a "friend breakup" coming. Not necessarily from the person who actually dumped me, because her motives for being my friend in the first place were sort of suspect (some people don't understand/can't accept the concept of "just friends,"), but I mean I sort of had it coming in general.
I do a lot of things that make me sort of a lame friend. I'm really good in clutch situations. In emergencies, I can be counted on to be there, the big celebrations, I'll be there. But most everything else- going to meet for drinks, making plans, returning phone calls, remembering birthdays- I kinda suck.
I'm also pretty good/fun-to-be-around once I can be convinced to leave the house, but it's often like pulling teeth. I don't know if it's because of "that thing" that I occasionally make vague references to that happened last summer, or I'm just an asshole, but either way, I could do better.
So here's what I want to say to my friends who read this blog: I'm sorry for so often being distant. I'm sorry if I ever make you worry. I'm sorry if you don't know how much I love you, I miss you, and how you mean the world to me. I'll try and be better. Thank you for loving me and not quitting on me despite my frequent disappearing acts, and predictably unpredictable behavior. Thank you for your understanding, even if it comes in the form of an eye roll, coupled with the phrase "Well, that's just how Grace is."
Thank you for not dumping me. I'm fucking lucky. Seriously.
PS. This doesn't apply to people I am actually trying to politely avoid.
PPS. This especially applies to anyone who knows what BGST means, people from So. Cal, and people with Vacation/Porn Names.
PPPS. I don't know what the lipstick/xanax story had to do with anything. But I found it right there in the alley. I shouldn't use it though, right? What if homeless people were trying it on all day?
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Or fine. Don't. I don't care. Go read this. Fannie's got it figured out. Of course she does. She didn't lose her exam number.
Monday, October 01, 2007
2. Panda Express
3. The decision to eat Panda Express when you could have just as easily had delicious Taco Bell
5. Losing your bar applicant number
6. Champagne hangovers
7. When your dog loves your neighbor more than she loves you
9. Running out of wine
10. Acting like an ass in front of your boss
11. Parking tickets
12. When your dog eats your chapstick without asking
Saturday, September 29, 2007
1. I listen, almost exclusively, to Broadway musicals on my mp3 player. My five current favorites (not like you asked) are Company, Into the Woods, Wicked, Chess, and Merrily We Roll Along.
2. I don't always know (or accept) when it's time to get rid of an article of clothing. I wear things until they are literally falling apart. Army Girl once had to physically separate me from my black pea coat that was "past its prime" When I asked her to promise that she would give it to Good Will, she said "Honey, I think Good Will will beat my ass if I try to give them this coat"
3. Along the same lines, I have HORRIBLY bad taste. The only time I ever look appropriately dressed, it's either because I've had someone help me shop, or it's just been complete luck. That's why I wear a lot of black dress suits with black high heels. It's hard to fuck that up.
4. I can recite at least a few lines from every Shakespeare play from memory.
5. I don't know if this is dorky or just sort of OCD, but when I'm anxious or bored, I try to come up with 5 five letter words using 25 letters of the alphabet. I've been trying to accomplish this feat for 9 years. I don't know if 5 such words exist, but I do it anyway.
Alright, Namby Pamby and Harmless Error- you both are tagged.
PS BONUS DORK thing that I really should confess to: I think hidden camera prank shows like "Punk'd" are ALWAYS HILARIOUS.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Additionally, I lost my applicant number, so whenever everyone else finds out about the bar online, I'll still have to wait another week- maybe two weeks for the fucking letter to come in the mail. WHY DID I LOSE MY FUCKING APPLICANT NUMBER???
See, here's the thing... I'm actually an incredibly stupid woman, which if you know me well, you already know, but you're polite and treat me like I'm intelligent. But I'm a fucking idiot. You know what else I did? I got new insurance with my new job, and I had to pick a primary care physician. It took me, like 3 weeks to do this. I did google seaarches on every single doctor who worked at one of the nice hospitals in the city. Finally I found one in the BIG FAT BOOK they gave us of doctors to choose from. And I filled out the form, and I gave it to the appropriate person at my office. And then 3 weeks later, I forgot who I chose. And how does a person call up her work person and ask them "Uhh... who did I pick as my primary care physician?" It just makes me look dumb.
I've made reference on this blog to a significant event in my life that has not exactly been the best thing ever. This month. It seems there might be... closure.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Yes, I am no longer taking the red line. I'm all about the Brown Line now. It's nicer. Cleaner. Quieter. I was actually a little worried that I would never be able to post another loud talker. But I had no reason to fear.
Meet Davis! I don't know if his name is really Davis, but I'm calling him Davis, because Davis is a freelance journalist and i think freelance journalists should have first names that are last names. So meet Davis, the FREELANCE JOURNALIST!
Davis likes to play with his balls a lot when talking with his colleagues on public transportation.
Davis works for a medium size Chicago publication. He's been there for 5 years and had 5 different titles in those 5 years.
Davis doesn't really like the way his boss talks about Laura, who's a "good little journalist"
Laura really should get an entertainment column regularly, and the boss shouldn't tell her what to do so much. She did write for the Wall Street Journal, after all. She's been talking a lot about doing a fashion column, too. (I think Davis wants to get it on with Laura.)
It's not as oppressive as it was in Denver. Denver was tough, Man. Thank god Davis doesn't have to write for financial anymore. Or be in Denver.
Davis thinks magazine headlines have gotten so trite. (Davis has worked as a writer for at least 5 years, and just now is realizing this?)
Again, Davis REALLY enjoys his own testicles.
By the way, Davis is the one on the right.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I'm not happy.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
And if you clean the grill much better than he does, does that change anything?
PS, I live in a condo, and we share a deck. It's not like I went into a different yard or something...
PPS. It's a gas grill. I don't know if that matters.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Guard: Hey. Get back here!
Grace: (turns around and walks back to the security guard) Yes?
Guard: (taking Grace by the arm) Why are you walkin around all shy like that with your arms folded across you?
Grace: Umm...I'm not shy, I'm just cold. They should turn the air conditioning down a little.
Guard: What floor are you on?
Grace: The X Floor
Guard: Guess I'll have to make a trip up to the X floor to warm you up then, won't I?
Grace: (pulling her arm free with an uncomfortable laugh) Have a good afternoon!
Guard: With legs like that I would APPRECIATE warming you up.
Grace: (uncomfortable laugh again) thanks. (walks away)
LATER (Grace, returning from lunch, walks around the building to avoid having to talk to the security guard.)
I could NOT have handled that worse. Go ahead. Ridicule me. I have it coming.
Friday, September 07, 2007
So go ahead attack me on shit like that. Although I would prefer some creativity in your insults. It just makes things more fun for everyone.
Here's what I will delete: creepy, disturbing and repetitive comments that openly state the commenter's wish to see lesbians die.
I guess my "policy" would be this: Don't say things that can be construed as threats. It's a BIG no-no.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
For those of you who are unaware, there's been a little blog war going on with our friends over at Opine Editorials. It got a little crazy with some posts getting over 200 comments from crazy homophobic nut jobs. Since things have finally seemed to die down, we are now able to present to you for the first time ever, THE FREDDY AWARDS!! Named after the much beloved (by men in white sheets and hoods) Anti-Gay Activist Fred "God Hates Fags" Phelps, the Freddy's are our opportunity to celebrate the dubious achievements of those who strive to fill Phelp's big shoes. So without further ado, Grace, Jane, Fannie, and Rachel present
THE FREDDY AWARDS!!!
Most Ridiculous Anti-Gay Opinion Presented As Fact: Jose, for his interesting take on the "gays can change" argument:
"Many homosexuals do not choose to be homosexuals any more than adulterers choose to be adulterers or pedophiles choose to be pedophiles. What they can choose is to stop performing as adulterers or pedophiles or homosexuals. Nevertheless, because of being engaged in these perverse practices for many years it is often very difficult to change, so difficult that the pedophile or adulterer might assume that his orientation is innate and immutable."
Marty for this:
"I do have other questions/opinions about homosexuality in general, but they don't so much inform my position on marriage as they fuel my angst against pro-homosex propaganda.
If homosexuals are "born that way, and cannot change", then there would be a two things:
1. A test that you could give to an infant to know whether or not they were gay. (Likewise, a test of the remains of a dead person, to know the same)
2. A complete lack of ex-gays.
Another is the simple fact that when a husband and wife visit a fertility clinic in an effort to have children, it is because one or both of them has a medical problem. But when two lesbians visit the same clinic, it's not for any medical problem -- but a social one."
Most Likely To Be Knocking On The Closet Door: Everyone at Opine is a winner here!!!
Most likely to Engage in Bestiality: Jose, for saying this:
"Kids are tempted into engaging in homosexual practices to test if they like this sexual activity and then labeled as homosexuals if they found pleasure in this sexual activity. Kids, especially boys, can be taught to enjoy all sorts of sexual experiences. There is evidence of how farm boys enjoy having sex even with animals."
Not that he knows.
Most likely to be a closeted lesbian werewolf:
Renee, for saying this:
"I've been where these ladies are (not a lesbian), but in terms of philosphy. It's fed to us, as the only option in college.
Hey ladies, you know what is ironic. It's full moon out! "
Most Likely To Be On Anti-Psychotic Medications:
Renee for this little...gem:
"Unlike other relationships, only heterosexual who engage in coitus, have to assume the possibility of another human being being created from the sexual act. So I'm a 'homobigot' is I say... a man's penis is more well endowed then a gorilla three times his size, so he can please a woman with a forward tilted vagina with face to face intercourse?"
Most likely to still-be-in-love-with-his-ex-who-is-now-a-big-dyke:
Marty, based on his comments that its not fair that lezzies discriminate against men because they don't want to have sex with them, marry them, or have anything to do with their little penises.
Comment From Anti-Equality Blogger That Made Us Laugh Out Loud The Most: Jose saying this:
"You can see how homosexualists like Jane Know are so enraged by reason and facts that they cannot understand what we are saying. Their rage produces a mental block."
Comment From Pro-Equality Blogger That Made Us Laugh Out Loud The Most: Grace with this:
"I'll respond, although this particular thread is starting to feel like the last season of 90210, where all of the lead characters have left the show for bigger and better, and the only ones who have stayed don't have any other decent offers. You, Christian, are the Ian Ziering of intellectual debate." (thanks, Fannie. I'm welling up)
The Pretentious Prick- Heterosexual Privilege Award:
Fitz, who said this:
"One gets the distinct impression that this is the first time Fannie & Co. have presented their worldview for public consideration. It is as if, up to this point they only encountered opposition of their own creation (a sort of straw man marriage defenders) and are now dismayed and overwhelmed to find that everyone dosent actually agree with their point of view."
The Save the Children Award: On Lawn, for saying that when gay people have children,
"the children become as relationship accessories. Purchased. Selected. And treated as a commodity. Why people have children, or why people even purchase children is no doubt varied. But it is none-the-less suspect."
The Too-Much-Information Award:
Renee for saying this:
"I gave birth close to ten months ago and because of the breastfeeding, I've still have not ovulated. That's no fluke, the body reproductive system knows how to send the right message to the ovaries that I still have a small baby. He's weening now though."
"Over the years studying natural family planning, I've been reading medical articles on the nature of cervical mucus secretions and how the body prepares itself for ovulation in a woman's cycle. It is quite amazing the female ovuation cycle. Our bodies, no matter the orienation, are designed for penises (and birthing babies)."
"No we're not obssessed with gay sex, actually anal sex isn't just for homosexuals. When I was a freshmen, they told us (the girls) that we should be engaging it equally as homosexual men. The term they used was to be in 'Deep Sh!t'...We are obsessed with sex, though. Marriage though didn't take it's fuller meaning for myself until I wanted children and dumped the contraception and actually had REAL sex."
The (Biggest) Hypocrite Award:
Jose, who admonishes,
"This is a forum to which the public is invited and the communication should ideally be as it would at a public forum, respectful without necessarily “pulling punches.”
and then a mere few comments later said this:
"Such homosexualists are encapsulated in their little clique in which they talk to themselves and imagine that only a few could possibly disagree with them or think them close-minded. They are not conscious of what is really happening in the world regarding this issue because they are so immersed in homosexualist propaganda."
The Anti-Equality Blogger Comments, That If Turned Into A Drinking Game, Would Get Us Drunk The Fastest:
Three Way Tie Here:
"Everytime Renee mentions her breasts, do a red-headed slut"
"Whenever Christian pines for Rachel's personal attention, pound a beer"
"Anytime On Lawn says "marriage neuterist" = SOCIAL!!!"
Person Whose News Story Most Likely Will End With The Phrase, "And then he turned the gun on himself":
Chairm- for everything. He's just that type.
The You-Should-Really-Stop-Embarrassing-Yourself-By-Talking Award:
Jose, for his *ahem* always-spot-on analysis of the situation:
"The homosexualists, for the most part unconscious of their marriage deconstruction efforts, are working hard at all levels to re-educate, that is, indoctrinate the masses and our children to accept and affirm their sexual practices. We form part of an intelligentsia comprised of liberals and conservatives that sees through their campaign and we present a powerfully articulate resistance, deconstructing the myths that they propagate. Such is the culture war that we are engaged in. They can rant and rage, foam at the mouth and spew bile, while reason and the facts remain cool and collected."
The Apocalypse Award:
Jose for warning us:
"It must be understood that along with the deconstruction of marriage, the nucleus of family and society, comes the wholesale deconstruction of family itself and social unity interests in general. This of course has already been underway because government has abdicated its role in protecting marriage."
The Hey-Everyone-Look-At-Me-I'm-A-Lawyer Award:
goes to Fitz, for constantly reminding us that he went to law school,
"Perhaps me & my legal credentials will impress her more?"
"Back in law school, one of my fellow student’s boyfriends was from Spain. We had this very discussion (he being older and unmarried/childless)"
"I thought I would post a bit of my article on same-sex “marriage” were [sic] I specifically discuss the ALI (American Law Institutes) recent recommendations on family law.
"We need an Egg and Sperm conception law. It reminds me of the cloning law (here in Michigan) & other States that were legislated during the Dolly the sheep media blitz. Such laws are ethical benchmarks that help us defeat stem cell research and other ethical medical issues that subsequently pop up."
Yes Fitz. Congratulations. You went to law school. So did the rest of us.
The We're-Going-To-Have-Boners-For-Weeks-Okay-Minutes-Because-Of-All-This-Attention Award goes to: Opine Editorials
Biggest Douchebag (The equavalent of
"Best Picture" at the oscars.)
Jose Solano- for everything he says.
Culturologist, who said this:
"I won't echo all the smart things that have been said here about normal human intercourse and the activities that homosexuals engage in except to say that the point the Jane Knows seem never to get is that they will NEVER know how much more powerful the sex act between a man and a woman is PRECISELY because both parties know that a potential outcome of the act is the creation of new life."
Many gay people have, in fact, had male-female sex. Perhaps they just didn't find it as "powerful" as... um... he seems to.
AND Marty, who said this:
"That's really it for me. If you and your GF want to shack up and play house, I could care less. Just don't inflict your bias on a kid, and don't go telling folks that it doesn't matter if little Johnny has no father. That would be cruel and unusual.
If gender didn't matter, you wouldn't have such a problem loving men. Gender does matter -- to you, and to little Johnny."
Biggest Doucheblog: Opine Editorials
And finally, the Burning Question to Homobigots that Still Remains Unanswered:
"Why are you devoting so much time and energy advocating against gay people getting married when, if you are so concerned about threats to marriage, you should REALLY be focusing on things like spousal abuse, domestic violence, and adultery. Those are way way way bigger threats to the sanctity of your so-called sacred male-female marriages than ANYTHING else?"
CONGRATULATIONS TO ALL WINNERS. YOU'RE A VERY SPECIAL BUNCH
PS. What would an award ceremony be without a super luxe gift bag? Please enjoy the following items that we've created especially for you.
First, for those chilly nights, let Jose Solano warm you up with this comfy sweatshirt:
Next, when it's time to get your drink on, please enjoy this "God Hates Fags" beer Koozie:
And lastly, after the beers, enjoy some sexy time in these Renee inspired underwear! Yum:
PPS Thanks to Fannie's girlfriend for the Freddy's Logo!
Monday, September 03, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
Here's the original posting
The other postings can be found on her main page.
She's also just a really good writer, and you should read her regularly.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
As always, in no particular order:
1. 90% of you will not be in the top 10%. Get used to it. You probably will NOT be in the top 10%. Why? Because the numbers say so. I wasn't in the top 10%. I wasn't even close. I still ended up with the only job I wanted. I also know some people who were in the top 10% who still don't have jobs. With this is mind, spend some time focusing on not being an idiot in interviews, and learn how to network. If you want to work at the State's Attorney's office or the Public Defender's office, start clerking there immediately, because they aren't going to care if you're top 10% if you haven't put your time in.
2. You do NOT have to study in a study group. Don't be guilted into thinking that's the only way to study. It's not. It doesn't work for everyone. I fucking hated studying in groups. It ALWAYS made me feel stupid and insecure. Try it. If it works for you, great. If it doesn't, then don't do it! It's your education to do with as you please.
3. The first case that you're going to read in Con Law is probably going to be Marbury v. Madison. It's long. It's boring. And if your professor is anything like mine was, you will spend WAY too long discussing it. Don't let it freak you out. Don't let it confuse you. As a matter of fact, the entire first semester of Con Law is not at all interesting. It's all about the Commerce Clause. Second semester you'll get to talk about things like porn and abortion and gay sex. It's more fun.
4. There are 3 types of law students you don't want to be, so DON'T BE THEM:
- Do NOT be the guy (or girl) who raises his hand all the time asking ridiculous hypotheticals, answering every question, and generally making his presence in the class WAY too well known. That's what we call a gunner. Professors hate you. Students hate you and talk about you behind your back. It will get to a point that every time you raise your hand you will hear people audibly groan around you. Do NOT be this person. Make fun of this person.
- Do NOT be the girl who dresses like a skank every day. I'm not saying you need to wear a cubs t-shirt with your sweats from undergrad, but if you wear high heels, tons of makeup, halter tops and short skirts every day, other women who go to law school with you will make fun of you. Save your nightclub clothes for the nightclub.
- Don't be the person who never reads or shows up for class, and then begs her friends for their notes or outlines at the end of the semester. Your friends will give them to you, but they will resent you and talk about what a slacker you are behind your back. Don't get me wrong, I have a lot of outlines given to me by friends, but only because I have given out a lot of outlines as well. It's gotta be reciprocal. And really, your first year you should really be doing your own, anyway.
5. If you are planning on carrying a backpack with wheels, know that everyone who isn't carrying a backpack with wheels finds you annoying. That doesn't mean don't have one. It just means try to keep the fucking thing out of the way of others.
6. Don't have sex with your professors. Actually, that's stupid. Have sex with them if you want. Just don't tell your friends about it, because they WILL talk. It's just too good gossip to be contained. FYI, I did not have sex with any of my professors.
7. Take Business Organizations. Take Secured Transactions. I didn't. When it came time to study for the bar, I REALLY regretted it.
8. If your parents are paying for law school, or you are on a scholarship, or are in any other way NOT going to be saddled with enormous loan debt, keep that little bit of information to yourself. When everyone around you is commiserating about how much debt they have, just nod your head like you're as fucked as they are. If you do not do this, you will be resented openly.
9. On the other hand, if you had to take out loans to pay for law school, SHUT UP ABOUT IT. You're no different than the rest of us. We're all going to be paying back our loans forever, and no one's thrilled about it, but bitching about it non-stop is getting you nowhere.
10. Be in one student organization. Don't be in ten.
11. Don't depend on your Career Services Office to get you a job. They can actually be a barrier to employment.
12. Don't let the competition of law school turn you into an asshole or a liar. You need friends when you graduate. You need friends when you take the bar. You need friends when you're a lawyer.
13. Be excited. Every fucking day, you are going to feel smarter. You're going to learn a new language. In about 6 months you're going to have a conversation with someone about the law, and you're going to take a second and be shocked when you realize that you understood everything that you just said. Enjoy that moment. But don't tell anyone you had it. They'll act like they don't understand.
Good luck. Have fun. Don't be a douchebag.
Friday, August 17, 2007
You are a Goddess and I’m hoping you would be willing to help me on this very unique fun opportunity :) Please let me know what you think. This will sound wild, but I am for real. I hope to hear from you either way.
My name is Mark from the near north suburb of Chicago in Des Plaines. I am seeking ladies ages 18-65, who would love the chance to literally step all over a guy for fun, maybe vent some frustrations, or even for some extra easy cash. If we can do a few pics for my Myspace and webpage “ChitownTrample”, if not, that’s fine.
No sex or nudity involved. We will both be dressed.. If cash would be an incentive,
I pay $70 for you to walk stand dance jump stomp on me from stomach on up
I pay $30 to have me smell/kiss your tired feet and lick your shoes clean, so $100.00
or more depending on how open minded you are to put a man in his place.. All for just one hour of your time.: ) Yes, someone would pay you to walk on him and smell your feet and lick your shoes!!!
Interested? Want to know more? Not for you? Please write me back.
My profile goes more in detail with my pics, videos, and faq section to answer questions you might have.
I RESPECT SAFETY. I know meeting people is risky. If you want to bring friends or whatever you would like to make you more comfortable, I am totally fine with.
Thanks for taking the time to read my message. :)
Mark The Carpetman"
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Grace: Um. That's awesome. I'm so happy for you. You...deserve it.
Ex #1: So what's going on with you? Are you dating? There must be SOMEthing exciting going on in your life.
Grace: Well, a generic version of Ambien just hit the market. And um... my new fish Beth hasn't died.
Ex #1: We need to find someone for you. I'm going to set you up with someone.
Grace: Well, you better tell them I'm taking Alli, that FDA approved weight loss drug.
Ex #1: You shouldn't take that. You don't need to lose weight. Besides that shit gives you oily gas.
Grace: Precisely why it needs to be disclosed.
Ex #1 Maybe you're not ready to be fixed up.
Ex #2: Happy Anniversary!
Grace: Thanks, Sweetie. But I think once you're married to someone else, we're supposed to stop celebrating our anniversary. It might bother your wife.
It's fucking BACK. The mother fucking air show is back. I HATE THE FUCKING AIRSHOW. I am filled with a rage that I usually reserve for genocide, pedophiles and leather pants on guys. I cannot even articulate why I hate the airshow as much as I do, but somehow I managed to blog about it last year, so I'll just repost that. Here ya go:
ODE TO THE AIRSHOW
I HATE THE FUCKING AIRSHOW. I HATE IT MORE THAN I HATE MOST OTHER THINGS.
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.
*Now it's the last weekend before my new job starts. Oh, Airshow... in case you missed it, FUCK YOU.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Grace: This evening, I got my head caught in the closet door.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
There's really no way to fully explain the 8 days I spent in Florida with 4 other women who had just taken the Illinois bar exam, but I'll try.
The first day, we all sat in a circle, and took turns discussing the essay portion of the bar exam. We compared answers, and then looked up what the best answers would be in the barbri books we all brought with us. Then we did Pilates. Yum!
The second day, we did the same thing except this time with the MBE, and then just for fun, we took a practice test, and it felt so good! Then we all pitched in and made a big salad, and did yoga watching the sun go down.
The rest of the time was spent discussing our goals in the legal profession and trying to come up with strategies for success in the workplace. We also did a bit of quilting.
OK. None of that happened.
We spent 8 days eating, sleeping, hanging out on the beach or by the pool, and watching Bridezillas and Top Chef. And of course drinking our faces off.
Cast of Characters-
What we drank-
6 3L jugs of wine
4 bottles of vodka
10 bottles of champagne
14 regular bottles of wine
*What we said- (no one needs to know which bit of filthiness came out which filthy mouth. Suffice it to say we are all represented below.)
"Pounding booze and hating children are my two favorite things in the world."
"Let's put our 5 JD's together and come up with a damn drinking game!"
"I've never had a one night stand. I mean, I've blown and ran..."
"I just had a #12 Waterfall Special come out of my ass!"
"We're a five woman frat house."
"Cocktails are good for breakfast."
"My mouth tastes like a hot garbage party."
"I'm the black belt of jackassery"
"You're disgruntled." "I AM disdrunkled."
"Everyone wins when you suck on balls!"
We fell in love with two very special women. Monica and Maria. They were on Bridezillas. Here are some things they said. I feel like they were on vacation with us.
"Does anyone have roofies for the children?"
"Are you inbred or is being retarded something you learned over time?"
"And then we're off- like panties in the night."
"I love you with every fart in my body."
Monica and Maria- if you are reading this. Please. Come be our friends. You'll like us.
I'd like to end this post with a little story written by Ms. Mitzi Beaverlick.
"The air was hot and heavy, just like our panting breaths. The candlelight flickered across our sweaty brows. Roxi took a chance and rolled the dice, pausing momentarily to let out the belch of all belches. "Social!" she called out as we raised our respective cans of yumminess. And then as all 5 of us swooped in to taste the sweet nectar of the gods, we realized, though unphased that we ferociously missed everyone's cans, although we were only sitting inches apart. But it was cool, because we just wanted that sweet widemouth on our luscious lips."
I really hope everyone who took the bar is recovering well, and on behalf of Mitzi, Kori, Lilly, Roxi, and myself I'd like to apologize to the state of Florida for drinking all their alcohol.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Ok. Hearing people talk about their dreams is boring, and this will probably be the only time I do it, so let's let it slide. Or just stop reading. I'll be posting about my super kick ass vacation soon anyway.
Since I took the bar exam, I am having the craziest nightmares about the fucking exam. You'd think that once I took the freakin thing, it would be over, but apparently not. Here are some examples:
1. I accidentally break off the seal to the test booklet before I'm told to and then run out of the room trying desperately to find a place to hide the broken seal. There's a proctors voice over some sort of intercom system calling my name and saying "Grace, we know what you've done. Just come back. We will only hurt you if we have to!"
2. In the dream, I only brought on pen to the exam. Naturally, it doesn't work. And no one will give me another.
3. For some reason, I brought my cell phone into the bar exam, and left it on. I got so freaked out once I realized that it was on and could ring at any moment that I couldn't concentrate on the test. And I knew if it rang, I would automatically fail, but if I went to the front of the room and retrieved the cell phone to turn it off, I would also automatically fail. Naturally, since this was a dream, the next thing I did was start screaming. Then Lilly Valencia showed up and told me that the proctors agreed I wouldnt fail so long as I let them confiscate my bag, take the pearls my mother gave me for graduation and keep my dog quarantined for a year. I agreed until I saw them leading my dog out of the testing room, at which point I woke up soaked in sweat.
4. My father and my estranged older brother show up in the testing room, drunk, demanding to speak to me. My brother angrily challenges me to a fistfight while my father looks on laughing. i agree to the fight. My brother hits me so hard I fall onto the floor, and my dad laughs and said "Well, honey, you're the one who wanted to be a lawyer!"
5. And the one I woke up from just about an hour ago involved the testing room flooding. and the water level getting higher and higher, and no one, including me is paying any attention. We're all just working on the MBE. I finally finish the test and throw it to a higher place where it won't get wet, but then I trip over something and sink under the water. Right before i think I'm about to die, I wake up.
So... ummm... is it just me, or is this happening to other bar exam takers?
Monday, August 06, 2007
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
There's internet where we're going. I might post. But I may not be able to operate a keyboard.
Either way... I'll be back soon.
BY THE WAY, Congrats to all the California Bar takers. Fuck those fuckers for making you do 3 days. But you did it. And I bet you all kicked ass. Especially Ms. E.B., and Ms. P.P.
I just wanted to take a moment to thank you. I woke up, went outside, saw the THREE MOTHER FUCKING parking tickets on my car, and completely avoided them, not knowing, not caring what I did wrong. Then, I saw your note. And it made me change my whole way of looking at the world. I am now going to examine the error of my parking ways. If it weren't for your note, who knows what tragic parking disasters could have occured in the future. You are really a goddamn mother fucking genius.
Now go fuck yourself with plastic sporks.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Personally, I'm scared. I'm really scared. I feel like everyone around me knows more than me. But then they turn around and say that they are feeling the exact same way.
I've made a decision on how I'm choosing to think about these next few days, though. I've heard from lots of people, that these are going to be the two worst days of my life. Without having actually taken the bar, I can't be sure, but I'm going to go ahead and respectfully disagree. I think I've had worse. I've also heard that this is the hardest thing I'm ever going to have to do. Again, without having taken the bar, I am going to disagree.
There is no way this can be true. Not to be a Debbie Downer, but my parents are both alive. One day, they won't be. Dealing with that is going to be way harder than the bar exam. I've had to sit across the table from my fiance and tell him I didn't want to marry him. That was pretty tough. I'd rather take the bar than do that again. I've had to listen to someone I was in love with tell me they no longer loved me back. I'd rather take the bar 10 times than do that again. There was this guy. Bar exam wins. I've been the victim of a pretty bad crime. Sorry, but the bar exam MUST be better than that.
Don't get me wrong, the bar exam is going to SUCK. and I am going to give it the respect it deserves. However, it deserves no more respect than any other loss, grief, fear, anger,panic or heartbreak that I, or any of us, have ever already experienced. And survived. For my own sanity, this is the way I'm thinking about it. The bar exam is just another fucking hurdle. No biggie. And Wednesday, it will all be over.
So now, I'm going to quit rambling. I'm going to go do a few more hours of studying, then I'm going to pack a bag and head downtown. I'm going to meet Ms. Kori Amsterdam, we're going to check into a hotel, check out our test sites, and then go eat a nice dinner. Then we're going back to the hotel, going to watch some Will & Grace, and go to bed.
Then tomorrow morning, I'm going to go over to my testing site, and give the Illinois Bar Exam the hate fuck it so rightfully has earned.
Once again good luck to everyone. See you on the other side.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2007
In case you can't read that, it says "I want to cry. Right here in the sushi restaurant"
From this point on, I was pretty sure nothing was going to get accompished at the resturant. I decided I needed an artistic outlet.
This is Tuna on top of my example of what a typical Secured Transaction looks like.
This is Shrimp on top of my answer on a Secured Transactions Essay.
This is Fresh Water Eel on the Secured Transactions model essay answer.
This is Salmon Roe on top of Federal Jurisdiction.
My name spelled out in soy sauce using chopsticks as my writing utensil.
My writing utensil- a Cross pen given to me by my father, in my soy sauce.
I don't know what else there is to say at this point.