A discussion Regarding the Dumbest Phrase Ever

"I'm drawing a line in the sand"

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.

The end.

Dear July 2007 Texas Bar Takers

I know that some of you read this blog. I know you only have a few more days before you find out your results. I know you are all going crazy.

I'm rooting for you.

Hang in there.


Sincerely,

Grace

This Post Has No Point

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.

Dear Barack Obama,

I read this.

Then I took your link off my blog.

Then I took your pin off my trenchcoat.

As of now, you have lost my vote.
-----------------
Let's see if you can earn it back.

Sincerely Disappointed,

Grace

Loud Talker on the BROWN line #2

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.

Grace and Daisy Discuss Charity

Recapping their respective weekends in gmail chat, Daisy and Grace discuss their views on philanthropy...

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

Daisy: nice!

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?

Grace: EXACTLY

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.

Salad Bar! The Opera

(This opera is meant to be sung in Italian, obviously)

Act I

Grace: La la la! I love the salad bar!

Security Guard from the Cook County Recorder of Deeds Office approaches Grace.

.

Security Guard: La la la! You're going to get fat if you eat all of that!

Grace: La la la! No I won't, Crab with a K has very little calories. (Krab is imitation crabmeat. It's actually a white fish called Pollack, also commonly used for making frozen fish sticks ) Do I know you?

Security Guard: La la la! No, but it gave me the chance to hear your voice.

Grace: La la la! And your way of getting women to talk to you is to admonish them about getting fat?

Security Guard: La la la! Well, you're talking to me aren't you?

Grace: La la la. Uh... I guess.

ACT II

Security guard from the Cook County Recorder of Deeds Office and Grace go up to the counter to pay.

Cashier: La la la! That will be $10.14.

Security Guard: La la la! SEE! Who gets $10.14 worth of salad?

Grace: La la la! My Diet Coke was $1.50 of that. Leave me alone.

Security Guard: La la la. OK. Just don't come crying to me when your pants don't fit.

exeunt

ACT III

Grace is eating her salad at her desk, alone. She sings the saddest aria ever sung...

.

Grace: La La La!!!!! Son of a bitch. Someone put Windex in the pasta salad again.

The End

Dumped

After work today, I walked into the bakery next to the el station.

"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?

As If We Needed Another Reason to Hate the Deaf:

I thought Marlee Matlin was enough, but now we've got this.

I PASSED THE BAR.

Wow. just wow.

Sure, everyone has something to say when I Sleep through a Robbery-

How about someone leave an entertaining comment, inspirational thought, or fuck, I don't care, insult me. Make the next few days go by a little faster. I'm going a little crazy.


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.

Nothing to Report

I still don't know about the bar results. I lost my applicant number, so I have to wait for the results to be mailed to me. That should happen in the next few days. I'm pretty sure I've failed though. In the meantime, I've compiled a list of things that suck. As always, in no particular order.

1. Regret

2. Panda Express

3. The decision to eat Panda Express when you could have just as easily had delicious Taco Bell

4. Fear

5. Losing your bar applicant number

6. Champagne hangovers

7. When your dog loves your neighbor more than she loves you

8. Shame

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