Wednesday, December 31, 2008
It's a derogatory yet hilarious term for lesbian.
For example, at a lesbian bar, one woman might say to another, "I find you very attractive. Do you wish to joust with my clam?"
Hope that helps. Happy New Year.
I think it's gonna be cool!
PS There are some bloggers I haven't heard from (ahem Fannie, Daisy, Namby, Jane, Wayward, Hellafied, Brita, Kelli, Justice Moustache, Thinking Fool, Obsquatch, A-Hottie etc...) I hope you guys do it, too!
Oh, and HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR. Don't get arrested. No one likes New Year's Day Bond Court.
Monday, December 29, 2008
We pick a day. And on that day, I pick up a book or newspaper article, and the title of that book or newspaper article will be the title of everyone's blog post. I randomly select a sentence from the book or article, and that has to be the first line of everyone's blog post. And then we write whatever the fuck we want. It can be a story from our lives. It can be fiction, non-fiction, it can be commentary. It can be fucking poetry if we are so inclined. Whatever we want, the only thing these posts have in common is they all come from the same point of inspiration-one line of someone else's text.
Then, I'll post a link back to all of the posts.
I think it would be cool, and fun. And interesting. If it works, maybe we'll do it once a month or so. It obviously would only work if others did it, too. So... who's in? Doesn't matter if you're a new blogger or an old blogger... doesn't matter if you're a regular reader of Law With Grace, or if you just stumbled by. Just leave a comment and let me know if you wanna give it a try.
And just so you know... I read a LOT of blogs, and there are some of you I am REALLY hoping will play along.
PS, if you know me personally, you better say you're in. Or you get shanked.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
1. Don't drink too much.
2. Definitely drink enough.
3. If someone starts crying, ignore them. If that doesn't work, ask them if they wouldn't mind getting something out of your car, and then lock them out of the house. Christmas is tough. No cryin
4. Don't call anyone fat.
5. If someone says something mean to someone else, mention to the hostess how good the gravy is. The next time, mention how beautiful the tree looks.
6. If you regularly take an anti-anxiety pill, don't stop cuz it's Christmas.
7. Don't ask the single people about their dating lives.
8. Don't ask your married friends if there are any hot single people at their place of employment in front of their spouse.
9. Don't talk about abortion. For or against it, it's not Christmas Dinner talk.
10. Don't EVERYBODY bring their dogs.
11. DON'T GET CONFUSED AND CALL ME A PUBLIC DEFENDER. YOU WILL GET CUT!
12. Stop buying your grandmother lotion. She has enough.
13. Don't get arrested. No one likes Christmas bond court.
MERRY CHRISTMAS ALL!!!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
2:51 PM Squid: so much
2:51 PM Grace: whatever you're too cool for me. i don't care
2:52 PM Squid: it's a line from Tupac's "Picture me Rollin"
Squid: and it means he actually has the money to buy rims for his benz, he is not just fronting like he has money, driving on stolen ones
2:53 PM Grace: that's like, the last thing to brag about.
Grace: not having to have stolen ones.
2:54 PM Squid: oh
right well, it's only the last thing to brag about if you can brag about it
Grace: sorta like saying "I don't even have an STD" is still saying you're kind of a slut.
2:55 PM Squid: maybe a little different, because with the rims, it'd still be kinda cool to have em if they were stolen, unlike the std
Grace: oh. see i was not aware of that.
2:56 PM Squid: well ultimately, yeah, you've still got your rims
with the std it's like oh, i'm a slut AND i have an std. great.
2:58 PM Grace: it's the way that the line of thinking goes. I think it suggests low self esteem, like, if you're so great that you have a benz, shouldnt you have it GO WITHOUT SAYING that you can afford rims?
2:59 PM Grace: or maybe I'm just bothered because "Flossin' a Ford Explorer" sounds gay, and not in the good way.
3:00 PM Squid: well that's the point
you wouldn't be flossin a ford explorer, unless maybe you were 16 and it was brand new
and the sad part is that flossin a benz doesn't always mean you dont have to steal the rims
you could be leasing your benzo for $300/month
3:02 PM Grace: you can lease a benz for 300?
3:03 PM Squid: less, probably
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Squid and I, over drinks last week (duh.. who would decide this sober), decided that Monday would be our technology free day. No phone. No TV. No internet. No text messaging.
The phone thing isn't really going to be a problem for me, considering my phone is broken, but STILL... I can't get it fixed tomorrow, unless someone else tests it to make sure it works.
It's going to be interesting. No reading my emails, no reading your comments, no catching up with the news, or blogs, or the weather... it's making me itch just thinking about it.
The only exception is that we can be on Lexis, because well... that's a major part of our work right now. And the experiment isn't how to suck at our jobs.
Wish us luck. I am going to keep notes, and hopefully Squid will, too. We shall post our results on Tuesday or something. If we don't die.
However, in the meantime, If you have been calling me or texting me, and I haven't been responding, it's because my phone is dead. Unless of course you are my sister, Bally Total Fitness, or several other people who won't be named here. Then I am just ignoring you. If you need me, email me.
Burn in hell, Palm Centro. Burn in hell.
Happy Sunday Everyone!!! It's 8 whole degrees here in the Windy City! I'm off for a brisk morning jog. And by brisk morning jog, I mean lying on the couch, watching reruns of Lockup: Extended Stay, and eating leftover couscous.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
It's "your toes are going to be wet and numb all day" cold.
It's "be scared to drive" cold.
It's "what the fuck were you thinking moving back to Chicago from glorious Los Angeles?" cold.
It's "why even bother?" cold.
It's "you're going to die, cold, broke and alone" cold.
It's "of course your dog peed on the floor" cold.
It's "of course your hand slipped and you broke your second to last wine glass" cold.
It's "I am definitely in god's blind spot"cold.
It's "is there even a god?" cold.
It's "the holidays are right around the corner" cold.
It's "it's so cold but still going to get even colder and I don't know how in the world I will ever survive" cold.
It's "I regret all of my life choices" cold.
It's "why even try?" cold.
It's "why does anyone voluntarily live here?" cold.
It's fucking cold. Really really fucking cold.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Then, I went over to the food court and got three chicken tacos. for $6.00. At the airport, that would have cost me $10.00. I got on the train, noticed there was a shit-ton of legroom, and no one sitting next to me. So far, I don't know WHAT the hell Carrie Bradshaw was bitching about. This seems freakin' awesome! No one telling me what to make sure my tray table is up and my seat is in its upright position. No one telling me not to use my computer. Admittedly, I haven't seen the bar car, and I haven't seen the bathroom, but for now, I have no complaints. And off we go departing exactly on time at 12:15...
12:36 It seems we've stopped for no apparent reason.
12:46 Still Stopped. The conductor tried to inform us through the PA system what was going on. But apparently the PA system wasn't working. So all we know is "thank you for patience. We will...soon...signal...time...with."
12:49 Awwwwww.... because the PA system isn't working, the train conductor PERSONALLY went to each car to inform us that there is a delay due to a freight train, and as soon as we get a signal that the freight train is gone, we shall continue on our quest to the Motor City and beyond.
12:54 Apparently the PA system is working again. They are telling us A. That the bar car is now open and it is in the front of the car. B. We cannot smoke. C. That the bathrooms are unisex, so please knock before going in, and D. to please remember to flush the toilets when we are done. We are still not moving.
12:58 Ok. we are moving.
1:27 We're stopped again. There's a train crew working on the tracks. I wanna be annoyed, but I just feel really badly for the poor guys working on the tracks. It's really cold outside. And I'm watching Boston Legal with a diet coke. My tacos were delightful by the way. After I finish this episode of Boston Legal, I'm..EEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWW... the guy across from me is eating a banana. In case you don't know this about me, I fucking HATE bananas. Everything about them makes me sick, and EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW he just draped his gross banana peel across his pant legs!!! omg I have to take a picture.
1:43 The banana is still there. How can a person just sit there with a banana peel on his knee? What's next tying a used condom around his wrist? This is BEYOND unacceptable. And now I have to pee. Maybe I should switch to a beverage of the alcoholic variety.
Oh Amtrak, My Love;
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
After a few minutes, a young-ish couple walked into the bar. They were neither dressed like lawyers, or theatre-goers, but I didn't really notice that at the time. They ordered waters, and asked to see the wine list. The bartender brought them water and the wine list.
They didn't drink their water. They didn't order wine. Instead, they walked out. With my wallet. FUCKERS.
I really fucking hate criminals. I really really do. I had six dollars in that fucking wallet. That's not even enough to buy the teeniest bit of crack, even if you throw a blowjob or a stolen cellphone into the mix. (I don't know this from personal experience. I practice criminal law.) So, I can't even imagine how it was worth it to them.
More than I hate criminals, I really hate feel victimized. I mean, I know that it's just a wallet, it's just six dollars. Replacing the contents of the wallet is a huge pain in the ass, and seriously, I had gotten used to flashing some very attractive photo id's that now I have to go and retake. That's really the extent of it.
I feel awful. Last night, a couple of criminals saw me and my friends. They saw me dressed in a suit. They saw me smiling and laughing, and enjoying a glass of wine. They saw me, with my guard down, which it hardly ever is anymore, not worrying about my jacket hanging over the back of my barstool. And they looked at what they thought I had. And they felt entitled to take it from me.
It's not like I was hurt. It's not like I was robbed at gunpoint. It's not like I have anything really worth stealing, and even so, it's just money. My friends certainly had enough to cover the bill, and they lovingly and sympathetically gave me a little cash so I could get home.
It's a very helpless feeling, though, being a crime victim, even for an incredibly minor crime such as this. It's the second time in three years that I've been one. I'm not going to talk about the first time which was...more serious, but I will say that it's interesting how no matter the severity of a crime, how it affects the psyche is awfully similar. It's embarrasing. You replay it over and over again. You blame yourself. Fuck! I should have known better... I shouldn't have hung my jacket on the back of my chair. I should have had my wallet in my purse. What was I doing out on a Monday anyway? This is my fault. Why me? And on. And on. And on. And. Fucking. On.
I don't know. Maybe this will make me a better lawyer. Maybe I will become a better advocate for crime victims...yeah...
Except I'm pretty sure after spending the day at the DMV replacing my fucking driver's license, I will be one vindictive bitch. Fuck it. I hope they took my wallet with my six dollars, ran out of the bar and got hit by a truck.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Grandma: Hi Gracie, Honey.
Grace: Hi Grandma! It was so great to see you yesterday.
Grandma: Oh, Grace, honey, you too...Listen, I feel terrible for what I said to you yesterday. You know I think you look more beautiful than you've ever looked before. You needed to put on some weight.
Grace: Oh, Grandma! Please don't feel terrible. I didn't think twice about it! (actually I cried driving home. I'm vain like that.) I love you so much!
Grandma: I love you, too, Sweetheart. Grace?
Grace: Yeah, Grandma?
Grandma: I know you're very busy, but please, will you just call me a little more? I miss you so much.
Grace: I miss you, too Grandma.
Grace's Brother, Charlie Manson: Hey.
Grace: Oh... Hey, Charlie Manson. Umm... How are you?
Charlie Manson: Fine...So, what's up?
Grace: Well, since last we talked well over a year ago, I got the job I really wanted, I graduated from law school, I studied for the bar, took the bar, and passed the bar, started my job, got a condo, lost my condo, and moved.
Charlie Manson: Cool. So, I hear Grandma called you fat.
Grace: Uh. Yeah. That happened yesterday. Are you telling me you know that grandma called me fat, but you didn't know that I passed the bar?
Charlie Manson: I don't remember if I knew that or not. Listen, she's old. She's gonnna say fucked up things.
Grace: Charlie Manson, I don't care. Like, at all. It's not a big deal. What is a big deal is the fact that you and Ann Coulter can't be in the same room together.
Charlie Manson: Well, she's a bitch. Sorry you got called fat.
Grace: Hi Mom.
Mom: Hi sweetie. How're you coping?
Mom: You know, after the incident...
Grace: The incident?
Mom: With Grandma. You know... what she said?
Grace: Oh, you mean when she called me fat?
Mom: She did not call you FAT. She told you she was glad you had put on some weight.
Mom: Stop being so difficult. I know you're sensitive, but you are NOT FAT.
Grace: Mom, I seriously don't care. It's fine. Let's just pretend it never happened.
Mom: OK. Just don't go overreacting and throwing everything in your refrigerator away. You're not working in Hollywood anymore. You don't HAVE to be that skinny.
Grace: I won't. I know. I know. (Too late, so what, and yes I do) Mom, I gotta go. I'm meeting some friends.
Mom: No, you're not. You're staying home and avoiding people. Don't lie to me.
Grace: OK. Mom. I gotta go. I'm avoiding people.
Mom: Bye Sweetheart.
Grace: Bye Mom.
Mom: Oh, and Grace?
Grace: Yes, mom.
Mom: You're not fat.
Grace: Um. Thanks. Bye.
Grace's Sister, Ann Coulter: You must be HORRIFIED.
Ann Coulter: Grandma calling you fat!
Grace: Ann Coulter, I REALLY don't care. And by the way, she didn't call me fat. She merely noted that I had put on some weight, which I had, and that I looked great, which, I DO, DAMMIT.
Ann Coulter: Oh, she just threw in that last part because you looked like you were going to cry, and she was trying to backpedal. She thought you looked fat. She didn't want you to get upset.
Grace: Ann Coulter, I DID NOT. I am not that shallow. (yes I am) I was NOT upset!
Ann Coulter: Oh yes you were. I KNOW you.
Grace: Yes, Ann Coulter! You are right. I was upset. I was upset because holidays SUCK, and I have to go to each and every one of them, because if I don't, the rest of you assholes will kill each other. I was upset because Charlie Manson wasn't there, and it made Mom sad. I was upset, because I had spent the morning working in bond court and it made me sad that all of the families of these drug addicts were spending their Thanksgiving morning bonding out their loved ones who were arrested the night before. And it all seemed so hopeless. I was sad that on this day where we were supposed to be giving thanks for everything we have, I couldn't wrap my head around how incredibly unfair the world is. I was upset because dad didn't call to wish me Happy Thanksgiving. I was sad that I don't know how to relate to people anymore. And I was sad because I knew that this was just the beginning of a long holiday season of feeling horrible. So you're right. I was upset.
Ann Coulter: Oh Sweetie. (pause) We could go on a diet together!!!
Grace: Um. OK. Thanks, Ann Coulter. Love you. Gotta go. I'm tired.
Ann Coulter: Yeah, by the way, you REALLY should use that under eye cream I sent you. You looked tired. Bye. Love you.
Grace turns her phone off..
Grace's Phone: You have one new message. First new message...
Grace's Dad: Hi Sweetie. Sorry I didn't call you yesterday. I couldn't find the damn phone. I hope you had a great Thanksgiving, and I love you very much. And I talked to your mom. She told me to tell you that no matter what, you're not fat. Love you. Call me later.
Grace's Dog: You look like a man. A FAT man.
I can't wait for Christmas.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
You are the child who was always positive, fun, delightful to be around, willing to do and try anything. You are the child who brought great joy to me and your father. You are the child who accomplished great things. You have been throughout your life a great source of pride for me as your mother. You were, and continue to be, all these things. I am forever grateful that you are my daughter.
I probably haven't said any of this lately, and I just wanted to tell you.
I think she really wants me to come to Thanksgiving dinner.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
It's been a few months now. A few great months. No complaints. You've been steady, and precise, and reliable. Every time, you get me where I need to be. Right on schedule.
I want us always to be honest with each other, and so I have something I must tell you. Please just listen...
As much as I adore you , lately I've been thinking of...other forms of transportation. Like, transportation from my past. Yes. The redline. We both know I'm talking about the redline. It used to be just a vague sort of longing, but lately, especially as the weather has gotten colder, I don't know. It's been something else.
So this morning, my alarm went off. I awoke from a dream where I had come in third place on America's Next Top Model, but I wasn't upset about third place because everyone at the waterpark thought I should have won, and they TOLD me so.
My bed was all warm and snuggly. My dog was tucked in the crook of my knee with her cute head asleep on my ankle. I was rested, and warm, and content. Then, I showered, did my hair, and got dressed. Then, everything changed. I went to walk the dog, and holy crap, my Darling. It was fucking cold! My frame of mind changed. Fast. I was obsessed with how long it would take for me to walk to you. And then after we were done with each other, (sometimes it's just TOO fast, you know?) I would have to leave you, just to walk out in the cold again.
And yes, my mind went there for a moment.
I could just jump in the car. I could be at the nearest station in five minutes.
But no. That's stupid. Metra is there. It's reliable. It's safe. It takes care of me. It won't let me down.
And the Redline. It's dirty, it's dangerous, it has loud talkers, it makes me late, it never shows up when it's supposed to. Oh GOD, and yet I CRAVE ITS SWARTHY, RUGGED, DEVIL-MAY-CARE UNPREDICATBILITY. It drew me in. I was weak.
Before I could stop myself, I jumped in my car, raced down the street, and parked near the closest station. I wouldn't let myself think for too long about what I was doing. As if in a trance, I walked in the station, dropped a ten dollar bill in the machine, pushed "vend" and got my ticket.
I slipped the ticket into the turnstile, and ascended to the platform. And, as if on cue, the redline showed up.
Maybe it would be different this time. Maybe everyone is wrong... maybe the redline CAN change...we had some good times. Some...magical times, even.
You don't need to know the sordid details of the commute, my love. Suffice it to say, I was 25 minutes late for work and I had orange peel on my pantyhose.
I am so sorry. I should never have strayed. I recognize now what I've done.
I hope you can forgive me.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
Every year, you are consistently on my "Why I Hate The Holidays" list.
Have any of you people ever had dogs as pets? You have? Ok good. That's a start. So, you know when someone knocks on your door or rings your doorbell? What does your dog do?
Your dog BARKS. AND BARKS. AND BARKS. AND BARKS!!!
And as much as we may love our dogs, we probably love our dogs the least when they are hysterically barking at nothing.
So what kind of psycho, crazy, mean-spirited, Santa-hating, asshole WOULD MAKE A HOLIDAY COMMERCIAL THAT CENTERS AROUND A FUCKING DOORBELL?
Every time that commercial comes on which is, like 40 times a day, my dog who, admittedly, is as dumb as a box of rocks, goes crazy.
I will never, EVER eat your candy. And I hope your Christmas sucks. Asshole.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Army Girl inspired her troops, inspired her colleagues, and loved every minute of her service in the Army.
Army Girl and her fellow soldiers put their lives on the line to protect our "freedom"
Army Girl got hurt while she was there, a couple of times kind of seriously. She never backed down, though. She's a bad ass.
Army Girl, to this day, loves the army more than anything. I've listened to her for hours telling story after story of her amazing experiences in the army. Not one of which, I might add, had anything to do with macking on chicks.
You see, Army Girl was kicked out of the Army for being gay. For no other reason than that. It's totally unfair. And it MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE. But I'm not going to say anything bad about the military today. Because Army Girl wouldn't like that.
Today, everyone should thank the veterans in their lives. And while you're at it, feel free to thank Army Girl, too.
I love you, Army Girl! Thanks for protecting America. Sorry America didn't protect you back.
Oh, and Army Girl? Please stop trying to get me to eat spam. It's never going to happen. Just accept it.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Um. I miss you. A lot.
Today was a great day. I went to the the Artful Blogger's and Daisy's ceremony where they, along with 1,700 other people were admitted to the Illinois Bar. I was really proud.
Today, after the swearing in ceremony, Artful and his sister-in-law and I went to a little restaurant over by his condo. They had burgers. I had chili with lots of tabasco sauce. I truly don't know what food tabasco sauce wouldn't taste good on. We spent a bit of time telling the Sister-in-law little details of how we met. She either was really interested, or is the most gracious person in the history of life. I suspect a bit of both.
You died face down on a bed of a heroin overdose.
After lunch, we walked home in the rain, because none of us brought umbrellas. Truth be told, I don't really care about getting wet from the rain. I always end up looking the same. Sis-in-law left, and then Artful and I grabbed a cab back to our respective lawyerly jobs. Artful, for the first time, as a real attorney.
I remember two years ago. It was early in the morning and I was running off to class. And J called me. It was 7:00 am for me, so it was 5:00 am for her. Therefore, I knew something was wrong when I answered the phone, but for some reason, I played dumb anyway.
J: Hey sweetie. What are you doing?
Grace: Um... trying to get out the door and get to class.
J: Can you stop... for a second. And sit down and talk to me?
Grace: Yes. OK. I'm sitting down and talking to you. What?
J: He's dead. They found him today.
Grace: Of course he's dead. He's a junkie. That's what junkies do, they DIE. How many senior citizen junkies do you know? None, right? Why? Because JUNKIES. DIE. YOUNG. That's just the way it is. Junkies die. Um. How did he die?
J: Sweetie. No one knows. It was heroin. He was at his place in the desert. Some guy called and reported it. Can you skip class today? Do you want to come to L.A.? We'll buy you a ticket, ok?
Grace: No, thanks. I have a presentation due on abuse of subpoenas. I'm not going.
When I got to work this afternoon after the swearing-in ceremony, I walked into my office and there was this huge box on my chair. It was clearly a flower box. Apparently, it had caused quite some speculation in the office.
I opened the box, and there were two dozen of the most beautiful light purple long stemmed roses I had ever seen that Artful had delivered. OK. I actually had never seen light purple roses ever before. But, I'm certain the ones I got today were the most beautiful in the world. And also a bottle of the most perfect perfume ever tucked into the box. He was the one who was sworn in today. He was the one who deserved the lavish praise. Yet, he sends ME flowers. Awesome, right?
You were always so direct with your words. The one time I asked you why, you told me. You told me that heroin filled a hole in your heart that no person has ever been able to fill. I often have to remind myself not to take that too personally.
I was giddy all afternoon. Thinking of the way my life had changed since my fateful last year of law school, when every event that defines who I am today occurred. The good: J and E's wedding where I was the maid of honor and you were a groomsman, my last year of law school, final exams, traveling with Lilly and Kori, graduation, getting the only job I ever wanted, studying for the bar, passing the bar, traveling with Lilly and Kori more, starting my job. The bad: That one night in July, and, of course, your death.
"Phone died. Good night...talk to you tomorrow." That was the last I ever heard from you.
For the most part, life in Chicago is good now. Even though I've been ridiculously sick for the last week, and apparently I am still not better, things are good. I miss my Los Angeles life and my Los Angeles friends, but I am embracing and loving the life I'm making here.
Tonight I went out with VCU Girl, Squid, and the Dirty Hippie- three people who are fairly new in my life but who I now don't think I could live without. We had fun. We were saying goodbye to VCU Girl who is heading back to Virginia after volunteering on the Obama campaign. Oh, yeah. Senator Obama from Illinois is going to be president. I totally told you! Anyway, it was fun. We took a ton of pictures. Then, Dirty Hippie and I split a cab home. After I changed my clothes and walked the dog, I flipped open my computer to check my email. And there was your name, in the subject line.
"It is two years today since I got the dreadful news about ***. I can't bear to say the actual words. Two years of missing him and of trying to make sense of it. Time does not heal all wounds - at least not a parent's loss of a child. I know I have to turn this around somehow and make some sense of it all or do something positive in my son's memory. I just don't know what that is right now..."
I admit it. I forgot the anniversary of your death. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. If it's any consolation to you, I spent the entire night puking. Don't get overly flattered, though, if dead people can even feel flattered. I don't think it was a result of my feelings of guilt. I think I'm just still sick. But I really do feel bad. And everyone in LA is gathering to celebrate your life and to party in your honor. I can't be there, because... well, I'm broke, and, as previously mentioned, sick.
Your poor parents. This must be so hard for them. I can't even imagine. How dark did your world get that you didn't think of them? Of your sister? Of any of us...
Whatever. That's not important anymore. You're dead now. You died face down on a bed of a heroin overdose in the middle of that sucky ass desert that you loved so much. Your dogs were adopted, and your condo was sold. The candy jar I gave you was certainly thrown into the trash, or perhaps given to Goodwill. Maybe it holds someone's loose change.
"Grace...you are so very...Grace. That's a good thing. By the way, you look sort of like a pretty alien." Thanks, I think. For that.
Maybe my forgetting the anniversary of your death isn't really that bad of a thing. I certainly would not nor could not ever forget you, so does it really matter that I didn't remember that one little thing, when I have everything else memorized? Or is this a sign? Is it just a prelude, to slowly and after many years, eventually forgetting the color of your eyes, or the sound of your laugh, or your sense of humor, or maybe even your name? I hope not.
But, who knows? I would have bet money that I would NEVER forget the significance of this day. But I did.
So, I guess all I can say is that today I remember the color of your eyes, the sound of your laugh, your awesome sense of humor, and of course, your name. I remember your kindness, and your strength, and your intelligence.
I also remember your dark side. Your sad side. Your weak side. Your tormented side. I hope you are at peace now. Wherever you are.
Sorry I forgot your death anniversary, but I could never forget your death. Or your life.
I wish I could have saved you.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
I woke up this morning feeling like death. My throat hurts, my head hurts, my skin hurts, my FUCKING HAIR hurts. I have a fever, and i kinda wish i would just die. I took a sick day today which makes me nuts. I hate wasting sick days on actually being sick.
I tried to go to work. I really did, but I couldn't stop shaking. My bones were too cold.
My beloved work friend, we shall call her Squid because that is her name, told me that she was feeling sick yesterday, but then did a bunch of things like make soup and eat lemons and tea, and so now I am trying to get up the energy to go to the store. It seems really really hard.
I am not a good sick person. I am whiny.
I might write more later.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Seriously. Go fuck yourself. I hate you. I AM OVER YOU. I should have listened to my friends who told me "Dude, your phone sucks." I STUCK UP FOR YOU!!!! Now, all I want to do is call my mom, and then Army Girl. What the hell? But no. It's way more important for you to "synch up"? Synch up with WHAT?? I never installed the stupid software onto my computer, because it seemed too hard and not important. What does my PHONE have to do with my computer? Nothing. Nothing at all. Just let me call my mom! Come on.
You never do anything right, Phone. You are a loser. You are a screwup... you will never amount to anything and I am sorry I ever had you. I can't believe there was a time in my life where I thought I needed you. You've been nothing but a disappointment.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
It's 3:00 in the morning and I don't know why now I am choosing to tell this fairly unimportant and boring story.
So the four of us get in the car, and decide to drive to Idaho. To get potatoes. Seriously. That was the misssion. But then after about an hour, we decided that once we got to Idaho, and got our potatoes, we might not be able to find a place to cook them. So then we decided to go to West Virginia, where the other girl we were with had a brother who knew how to make his own beer. Seemed like an ok plan. I don't know why we didn't stick with it, but somehow we ended up in Florida.
Well, no spontaneous trip to Florida is complete without a trip to Louie Lombi's Tattoo Paradise, my friends. Which is where I got my first and only tattoo. I was smart though. I called my father to ask permission first:
Grace: Hi Daddy! Can I get a tattoo?
Grace's Dad: Of course you can, Sweetheart. It's your body. Just one thing though, you'll need to find someone else to pay for college.
Grace: Hm. So, that's actually your way of saying no?
Grace's Dad: Yes. That is my way of saying no. You're 18 years old. You're beautiful, whatever stupid shit your 18 year old self chooses to get tattooed on your body you will regret later. Don't do it.
Grace: You're right. Good thinking, Daddy. I love you. I'll call you when I get home.
Grace's Dad: Love you too, Honey. Bye
Grace: (to her friends) He said it's fine!!!
We then all set out to choose what we were going to get tattoed on our 18 year old selves. The other girl on the trip was, at the time, a vegetarian. She got a carrot tattooed on her ass. She's not a vegetarian anymore.
The other three of us decided to go with the ever poplular chinese characters. We all got them on our right ankles. My boyfriend got one that meant "Actor" (I know, I should have ended it right then and there) The other guy we were with got one that meant "To Seek"
I got one that translated as "Live in the moment" Deep, right? If I had a nickel for every time I rolled my eyes at myself, I'd be fucking loaded.
So I am totally forgetting why I am even telling this story. Oh. Right, because it's nearly 3:30 am and I can't sleep.
So, the tattoo didn't really have much of an effect on my life. After a while, I sort of forgot about it. But whenever I was asked about it, I was sort of proud. Living in the moment is a good thing! And a good mantra! And can anyone think of a better way to really express your carpe diem-ness, than to PERMANENTLY ink it onto your body? Naaaa.
Until my college graduation party. I remember sitting on my mother's kitchen table and chatting with her while she cooked. I was wearing a little sundress, and jauntily kicking my legs back and forth. All of a sudden, my mother grabs my right ankle like she's about to tear it off.
Grace's Mom: WHAT IS THIS?
Grace: It's a tattoo!
Grace's Mom: IS IT PERMANENT?
Grace's Mom: WHEN AND WHERE DID YOU GET IT?
Grace: Freshman year at Louie Lombi's Tattoo Paradise! Do you like it?
Grace's Mom: WHAT DOES IT MEAN?
Grace: It means "Live in the moment," Mom! Like, Carpe Diem! Isn't that cool?
Grace's Mom: ARE YOU SURE?
Grace: umm... what?
Grace's Mom: SEEING AS YOU DON'T SPEAK CHINESE, DID YOU MAKE SURE THAT'S WHAT IT SAID BEFORE YOU HAD IT PERMANENTLY INKED ON YOUR BODY?
Grace: Ummmmm....er...Of COURSE I did! What do you think I am? A complete idiot? You actually think I would get something TATTOOED on my body in a foreign language without even checking to make sure it said what it was supposed to say? I'm OFFENDED, Mom. That hurts. You have absolutely NO faith in me whatsoever. Thanks A LOT.(stomping off to her room)
On this day, at my college graduation party, I had my first panic attack. I actually had NOT checked to make sure my tattoo said what it was supposed to say. Who DOES that? I realized that I was a complete idiot. I was convinced that my tattoo actually said something like "White girl conforming to non-conformity" or "I'm dating a loser" or "Bad decision maker" or "I lie to my dad"
I felt tricked out of my coolness. And Chinese people everywhere had certainly been laughing at me for years now.
It took me about a month to gather up the courage to do the research, and find out what my tattoo actually meant. Fortunately I found out that my tattoo actually did mean, "Live in the moment"
However, after that day on my mom's kitchen table, my tattoo will always translate to me as "total fucking idiot"
Monday, October 20, 2008
I was invited to THREE pumkin carving parties this Halloween. Of course I find this particularly hilarious, because I hate all holidays, and Halloween is no exception. However, I had fun at the one I ended up going to. And I carved a fucking KICK ASS pumpkin, and no, I TOTALLY don't care that I carved it using a template.
So... here's my awesomeness. I did the one at the bottom.
Monday, October 13, 2008
First of all, thanks for everyone's responses in my previous post. I feel smarter! I'll post more about that later today or tomorrow.
Now I want to vent a little. You know what I hate? When people say dumb shit. Admittedly, I do this more than anyone. I also bitch about bad drivers when I, in fact, am the worst driver on the road. I am the reason the phrase "road rage" was coined. In other words, I know I am a hypocrite. But it's my fucking blog, and you certainly don't have to read it if you don't want to.
Actually, the specific dumb shit that I hate for people to say is "you're so lucky."
Fuck that. It's stupid. And they never mean "lucky" They MEAN something else, and usually there's an element of passive aggression. "Oh, Grace, you sure are lucky that you don't have any kids. You can afford to spend your money on Starbucks Pumkin Spice Lattes!" really? that's how we are currently defining lucky? You are bummed that you can't have a pumpkin spice latte because you chose to have a baby? Aren't you fogetting you have... a BABY? Some people might view that baby as something that makes YOU lucky, you dumb twat. Making different life choice does not equal luck.
Am I really lucky? Is my last name Jolie-Pitt? I didn't think so. No I am not fucking lucky. I'm not particularly UN-lucky. Whatever I am or whatever I have that some fucking asshole thinks is a result of luck, actually has nothing to do with luck. I have a friend who won the California State Lottery twice. Once for about 80k, and then another time for 34 million. That's luck.
You're lucky that your family loves you so much.
Yes, I am lucky that my family loves me so much. They all hate each other. But they all love me. They all hate each other so much that all we ever talk about is how much everyone hates everyone. And any time I ever try to do something as simple as have a lunch with one of my siblings or one of my parents, it is viewed as a HUGE betrayal. Family holidays are so uncomfortable that I continually volunteer to pick up bond court shifts in order to avoid them. If I can't pick up a shift, I lie and say that I did anyway. Then I spend the evening by myself. Yes. Very lucky.
You're lucky that you actually enjoy your job.
Yes, I am lucky that I enjoy my job so much. The moment I walked into the courthouse on my first day of clerking, I knew that is was the only job I would ever be happy doing. In order to get said job, I had to spend my summers and days off of law school class in unpaid clerkships. This required me to take out more student loans than I had expected. Now I have so much student loan debt, that I regularly have panic attacks just thinking about the fact that it's possible I will RETIRE from my beloved job, and still owe money.
You're lucky you had such an interesting life before you went to law school.
Yes, I'm lucky I had such an interesting life before law school, but the fact is that it means nothing now. It would be nice to have such an interesting life AFTER law school. If that happens, it won't be luck. It will be me making it happen.
You're lucky that you can come and go as you please; you don't have a spouse and a child tying you down.
Yes, I am very lucky I have the freedom to come and go as I please, with no responsibilities to anyone but my dog. Nevermind the fact that the only thing that I feel I was born to do was to be a parent, and as I get older, that possibility seems less and less likely. Yay, but I can stay out til midnight whenever I like!!!! Oh, my WONDERFUL good fortune!!
You're lucky you have a lot of friends who really care about you.
Yes, I'm lucky I have a lot of friends who care about me. However, the only ones who REALLY know me, and understand me, and accept me for exactly who I am, who I NEVER have to censor myself in front of, who have seen me at my ugliest, my angriest, my most brilliant, my saddest and NEVER wavered, well... one lives in fucking AUSTRALIA, and the other is six feet fucking under. And neither is returning any time soon. Clearly, I have hit the jackpot.
You're lucky you're so pretty, and you get asked out all the time.
A. That's just not true. I don't get asked out all the time. B. I'm not that pretty. I'm just ok. C. Even when I do get asked out, I am usually so nervous that I am going to have to interact with another person on a one-on-one basis AND leave my house, that I usually have no choice but to say no. Yep. Lucky Mc Luckerton.
I was just recently told in a text message from someone who, admittedly might have some issues with me, that I am the luckiest person in the world. And when I inquired why in the world I was the luckiest person in the world, this person said "because you've never had to love you from the outside."
So, here's a note to anyone who has ever loved me, currently loves me, or has any intention of loving me in the future. You are not lucky. You are, in fact, UN-lucky.
Someone else extremely close to me was fond of saying, "If I am on an airplane with Grace, that plane is CERTAIN to crash, but if I am holding her hand, I know I'll survive."
I don't know if I like that assessment more or less. However, I do think it's more accurate. But all that really means is that I've experienced a lot of wreckage, as a result of my incredibly amazing and fantastic luck.
I'm not saying that I am not grateful for the path my life has taken, for the fact that I've taken unnecessary risks in my life, which could have had horrible consequences but I've somehow managed to land on my feet, or for the fact that even after I've acted like a complete bitch, there have been people willing to stand by me. That I'm healthy. All I am saying is before you say dumb shit like "you're so lucky", you should really just shut the fuck up, and think about your own luck.
I don't know why I'm writing this today. Tomorrow I might not even care.
PS. The person who said the "I'm lucky because I've never had to love me from the outside?" That's a fucked up thing to say, right? I mean. It is! Right?
Thursday, October 09, 2008
***Oh. And as an added incentive, if you answer one of my questions, I'll answer one of yours. Doesn't matter the topic. If I don't know the answer, I'll find out.
1. Is there a way of measuring dry pasta so that you have exactly one bowl full? I always make too much or too little.
2. Is it true that muscle weighs more than fat? But like, how much more could it POSSIBLY weigh?
3. What's wrong with Kelly Ripa?
4. If you used to date me, was I really bad? Did I have any redeeming qualities?
5. Is it true that it's impossible to sneeze with your eyes open?
6. Are Converse All Stars really really way too early 90's?
7. Where is a good place to go on a vacation alone? Just for 5 days or so. It's gotta be somewhere warm. In mid January.
8. Does anyone have a copy of the American version of Nobody's Side, from the musical, "Chess"?
9. How did you find out about my blog? And why do you continue reading?
10. If you are the person who always leaves the comment "someone should take a dump on your chest" why do you think so? That's a little gross. Why do you say it?
11. I think my blog needs a makeover. Does anyone want to redesign my blog? I don't know how to do that stuff.
12. People say that if you tuck your thumb into your fist when you punch something, you will break your thumb. Does ANYONE know anyone who that has happened to? Because I don't think that happens.
13. Did you go to undergrad with me?
14. Was the bailout a good idea or a bad idea?
15. Why do crazy people always talk to me?
16. Dress boots with a skirt suit- Courtroom appropriate or no? I think no, but there's been some office debate.
17. Do people still get perms? I obviously don't, but does anyone?
OK. That's all. Go. THANK YOU. And I welcome your questions as well.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Me: We need to talk.
Dog: What are you doing here? I thought you died!
Me: Um. No, I didn't die.
Dog: Yes. Yes, you died. I remember it vividly. I pooped on your corpse. I'm sure of it! It was SWEET.
Me: No. I'm alive. You didn't poop on my corpse. I just took you on a walk ten minutes ago. How could I be dead?
Dog: Oh. Damn. Well, when you do die, that's going to be the first thing I do.
Me: Super. That's just great. Can we talk now? It's kind of important.
Dog: Make it brief. I have to go lick myself.
Me: I think your relationship with the squirrels in the neighborhood is unhealthy. It's bordering on toxic.
Dog: What would YOU know about healthy relationships, Asshole?
Me: This isn't ABOUT me. It's about you. Ever since we moved into this neighborhood, you stare out the window and you bark, whimper, and even cry at the squirrels. They seem to be driving you crazy with desire. But then, I take you outside, and you nearly knock me to the ground by pulling on your leash so hard trying to chase one.
Dog: Well, maybe you should try sensible shoes, instead of those hooker heels you're always sporting.
Me: They're not hooker heels. They're professional, courtroom appropriate, work shoes.
Dog: Whatever. If you can't walk in them, they're too high for you. Why you're AGAIN choosing to blame ME for your shortcomings is beyond me, Loser.
Me: It's not that I can't walk in them. I CAN SO walk in them. I just can't run in them while you chase squirrels, that BY THE WAY YOU ARE NEVER EVER GOING TO CATCH!
Me: I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.
Dog: Like HELL you didn't!
Me: I didn't! I'm just frustrated. And you know how to push my buttons, and it just came out all wrong. I'm so sorry. Of course, you can catch a squirrel some day.
Dog: Yeah. Well, no shit. Of course I can. You're the disaster- not me.
Me: Hey, I have things going on! I just don't share them with you because you can't be supportive.
Dog: Yeah, well it's sort of like Lions Fans. Sometimes you just gotta stop supporting the loser team.
Me: I didn't know you knew how to make football analogies.
Dog: Yeah, there's a lot you don't know about me, Assface.
Me: I hate to do this, but sooner or later, you are going to have to make a choice. You don't have to do it today. But one day you will have to decide. The squirrels, or me.
Dog: Ok. I choose the squirrels. Are we done here? Can I get onto licking myself now?
Me: Ok. um.. see you later.
Dog: Shut up. Oh and feed me.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
I CANNOT STOP WATCHING THIS VIDEO AND LAUGHING
I seriously don't know what my problem is. I giggle just thinking about it. And in case you're thinking about NOT watching the whole thing, near the end, the dude has a dance solo. No. He really does.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
I'm leaving you for the Metra.
Monday, September 22, 2008
I know that me blasting Palin is a little...well...obvious, so I'll try and keep this brief.
I just have to say something about the newest little gem we've learned about her, and what exactly does and doesn't matter to this disaster of a human being.
Rape victims in the city of Wasilla where Palin was the mayor, have to pay for their own rape kits.
Sweet. Nice fucking lady, right?
Obviously, as the owner of a vagina, I find this practice to be absolutely reprehensible. It's disgusting, and unfair and insulting. And unforgiveable.
But have no fear! The Palin camp has an excellent reason. Wait for it... wait for it... wait for it....
Palin, like, totally didn't know!
Phew! I thought it was something serious. Now that I know that the mayor of a town is excused from the practices of that town if it's because it's stuff she just totally didn't know about. OK now I think she's TOTALLY qualified to be vice-president. Super!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :-)
Ugh. I HATE her.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
So. The spider... is...dead. It took an entire can of hairspray, half a can of carpet stain remover, my landlord screaming like a little girl, and a boot. But it's dead. There was some question as to the size of the spider. The body was not quite as big as my forefinger and thumb making an ok sign. But if I used my pinkie finger and my thumb, it was approximately that big. And its web was easily 5' by 3'. I know this because I discoverd the spider by walking my face into the web. But we can all rest assured, the little fucker is no more. Rest in peace, little fucker.
Mama Grace came over the other day to see the new apartment. She was thrilled that I was no longer living above a liquor store. She thought it was now much much safer. It is. However, as I was getting ready to walk her out, she peered out the window and into the yard, and said "Oh, Grace, honey. You have guests!"
I looked out the window, and sure enough there were two young men sitting out on my patio furniture. Just sitting there. Looking a little nervous. But just sitting. I told my mother that these guys were not my guests, and that I would walk her out. As she and I walk out the door, we see two cops, with their guns drawn, rush from my neighbors back yard into my backyard yelling "Freeze mother fuckers! Get on the fucking ground! GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!"
My mom hadn't quite made it out the door yet, so she was still inside, but I was in full view of the officers, and so I put my hands in the air, too. The cop sees this and yells up to me, "Ma'am, what's the address here?"
"Um.... Ummm...." Because I just moved I totally couldn't remember. Finally it came to me. I yelled out the street number.
"What's the NAME of the street, Ma'am?
After a longer than appropriate response for someone to say the name of the street they lived on, I shouted it out. He radio'd for backup officers, and the little punks were arrested.
Apparently, they were seen dealing drugs within 1,000 feet of a school and when the cops saw them, they started running, and eventually needed to take a little breather. In my backyard.
My poor mom. She hates the term mother fucker.
So, after a few more dates with Lawyer, who, from here on out shall be referred to as Lawyer #1, it has become clear that Lawyer #1 and I are not a good match. Lawyer #1, while very sweet, attractive, and smart, apparently has not cut ties with an ex. And doesn't mind being less than forthright about it. It's sort of why Lawyer and I couldn't make it work the first time around. It's ok, though. I'm a little disappointed, but when it comes down to it, Lawyer should go and try to make it work with the Ex. I can do better, but, the ex, quite frankly, probably cannot.
In the next few weeks, I have a date with Lawyer #2, and a date with Chef. I've had a crush on Lawyer #2 for a while. I don't know Chef very well, but anyone who offers to make sure my kitchen in my new place works by cooking me a gourmet meal in it, is A-OK in my book.
Monday, September 15, 2008
1. Grace: When & why did you start blogging?
Daisy: I have a private blog with my best friends from college. And I started just writing on it every day, sharing my inane thoughts & they politely put up with me. I finally determined their kindness was not in fact endless, and I began to subject myself upon the world.
2. Grace: What is the first blog you read?
Daisy: To be honest it wasn't a "blog"- but when I was in college I worked for St. Jude Children's Research Hospital and a lot of the patients (whom I had met) had Caringbridge websites authored by their parents. They are sort of like blogs, even if the purpose is different (i.e. to keep friends & family updated on their child's cancer treatment). Anyway, as some of the kids either went into remission or became angels, their parents switched to blogging & they were such good writers, I kept reading on their new websites. And it snowballed from there.
3. Grace: I know you've lived in a lot of different states, (and countries?) Let's have the list.
Daisy: Spokane, Washington. Mountain Home, Idaho. Phoenix, Arizona. England. Yorktown, Virginia. Montgomery, Alabama. Phoenix, Arizona (again...). Germany. Salt Lake City, Utah. New Orleans, Louisiana (home is where the heart is...). Dallas, Texas. Chicago, Illinois. I consider New Orleans to be "home".
4. Grace: Why did you want to go to law school?
Daisy: Honestly? Because I couldn't pass chemistry and I knew I needed a graduate degree to afford to eat. (Probably the 'natural knack' for reading & writing played a part, but in all honesty, it was that fateful day of dropping chemistry to avoid a "fail" on my college transcript)
5. Grace: You've just won the Academy Award. Let's hear the last line of your acceptance speech.
Daisy: This award is in honor of every child who has bravely fought pediatric cancer- may you too have your moment on the stage of the world.
6. Grace: If you went blind, what would you miss most?
Daisy: My sight. I kid, I kid. Probably the view of downtown Chicago from Lake Michigan at sunset. Breathtaking.
7. Grace: Where did you and BISMOW/Wayward Esquire meet?
Daisy: In the lounge of our law school, introduced by Ms. Scarlett O'Hara herself.
8. Grace: Were you the teaser or the teasee in elementary school?
Daisy: Depends on where I lived. Honestly, I've been on both sides, and I can readily admit that bullies suck and should have rocks thrown at them.
9. Grace: What is your dream vacation spot?
Daisy: Of places I have never been, Tahiti. I salivate at the thought of going there. Of places I have been, Italy. Oh how I adore Italy. Pizza! Ruins! Romans! Naples! Wine! Tuscany! The Pope! Venice! Wine!! More wine!! Florence!
10. Grace: If you were in a plane crash, and you were the only living person, and you HAD to resort to cannibalism, what would you tell the families of the victims that you ate?
Daisy: Donner, Party of 10.
*** Questions 11 and 12 and 13 involve the game "Do, Dump, or Marry" AKA "Fuck, Marry, Kill" I'll give you the name of three people, one of them you have to have sex with, one you have to marry, and the other you have to either dump or kill, depending on which version you choose to play.
11. Grace: Halle Berry; Gwyneth Paltrow; Jennifer Lopez
Daisy: Halle: Do. Gwenyth: Dump Jennifer: Marry (hello private jet!)
12. Grace: Justin Timberlake, Kiefer Sutherland, Rob Lowe
Daisy: Justin: Marry. Kiefer: Do. Rob: Dump
13. Daisy: Justice Scalia, Justice Breyer, Justice Ginsberg
Daisy: Justice Scalia: Dump (He was mean to me when I met him) Justice Ginsberg: Marry. I heard her speak a few weeks ago, and awww. Justice Breyer: Do. He's cuter than Tony
14. Grace: You have to give up alcohol, shoes, or red meat? Which do you choose?
Daisy: Um. BISMOW informed me alcohol. He is probably right.
15. Grace: What celebrity do people most tell you that you look like?
Daisy: Tie, between Kate Winslet and Kate Hudson. Weird, I know.
16. Grace: Best gift you ever gave?
Daisy: I found my parents a first edition of The Power of One by Bryce Courtenay when I was 14 years old. Lets just say that Christmas morning was fan-fucking-tastic.
17. Grace: You go on a roadtrip- what are the 5 things I would definitely find in your car.
Daisy: Smart Water. Country & Dave Matthews CD's. M & M's. Orbit Gum. iPhone + charger
18. Grace: What are you scared of?
Daisy: My Mom getting sick and my Dad's plane crashing. And Bismow's sense of organization.
19. Grace: What needs to be invented that would make your life easier?
Daisy: Tele-transport. Beam Me Up Scotty! And a machine to add an extra few hours in the day. The things I could get done.
20. Grace: What's your favorite thing about Grace?
Daisy: If Grace counts you on her list of friends, she will be an unwavering advocate on your behalf, come rain, shine or hell & highwater. Seriously, you could NOT ask for a more loyal friend. Oh yeah, and she's hot.
21. Grace: If you could wear one designer, from head to toe, for the rest of your life, who would it be? (Sorry I know this was your question, but I really like it and want to know your answer)
Daisy: Carolina Herrara. Her clothes ooooze sophistication.
22. Grace: Favorite movie. You can list three.
Daisy: Top Gun. Saving Private Ryan. Dumb & Dumber.
23. Grace: You wrote a week ago or so about regrets. Let's hear about something you got absolutely dead on right.
Daisy: Kissing BISMOW even though I was terrified it would ruin our friendship.
24. Grace: Last stranger you yelled at?
Daisy: Um. Well. Define 'stranger'. I recently lost it at an independent medical exam when the "independent" physician was a raging asshole to both myself & my client. I believe he told me I was out of line (for telling my client not to answer a question that was inappropriate!) and I told him he was out of line & lacked basic respect. And when he said he was sorry at the end, I told him not to apologize for something he wasn't sorry for simply because it became awkward. Pretentious asshole made it clear I was young and woman, and therefore nothing in his eyes. I hope he depends on a young woman to save his ass one day, and that I never ever come across him in court. I will crush him like the tiny turd-faced bug that he is.
25. Grace: Bam. You get a do-over. What's your new profeesion and location?
Daisy: New Orleans. Restaurant owner. Something delicious & quaint, filled with locals, an excellent wine cellar, good smells, well-mixed drinks and one hell of a brunch menu.
Thanks Daisy!! You are awesome!!
For my answers to Daisy's questions, check out her blog.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Sunday, September 07, 2008
So, yeah. I moved. A big part of me is sad. And I feel like a loser. Millions of people can get mortgages. Millions of people can own homes. I'm just not going to be one of them. At least right now.
However, a whole other big part of me is relieved. Living above a liquor store has its obvious advantages. But really. One of these days, I'm going to want to get knocked up. And you can't have a baby above a liquor store. It's just weird and wrong. And the place was awfully small. And the builder was a real asshole and a bully, and the thought of giving him hundreds of thousands of dollars kinda made me wanna stab myself in the eyes.
And there's some sort of nursing home for alcoholic amputees in that nieghborhood. And our liquor store was the closest one to where the home was, so about once a week, there'd be about 5 or 6 people with only about 8 limbs between them, sitting on our lawn and swigging beer. And they left the cans everywhere.
But, sigh. The bathtub in that place was ridiculously awesome. It was like a swimming pool. And really really pretty. My new bathtub is like a shotglass.
But my new place has its plusses, too. It's bigger. It's got a backyard. My neighbors are cool. It's on a really quiet street. The old place was right on a major Chicago street. With a bus stop on the corner, and a hospital down the street. It was really fucking loud. And bright. Even with all of the lights turned off in my place, it was almost bright enough to read. The new place is dark. And quiet.
There's also something oddly comforting about having almost no one know where I live. Currently only 5 people know where I live. I LOVE that. That's going to change, though. I am probably going to have a housewarming thingee or something. Then, by necessity, other people will have to know where I live. Because having a housewarming party in a neighboring bar is usually thought of as a little weird. And the people who I would invite aren't really the people who I would worry about knowing where I live anyway.
God this is a rambling and uninteresting post. I'm not feeling very inspired.
Sarah Palin. She's really cute. Like, REALLY REALLY cute. She should do that for a living. Be cute, that is. I am totally voting for her for "Cutest Vice-Presidential Nominee" And in the event that John McCain cannot fulfill his duties as Ms. Cutie Alaska, I would be thrilled for Sarah Palin to take over those duties. But since she thinks gay sex makes the Baby Jesus cry, and is the most anti-woman candidate on the ballot, (and I have virtually no chance of ever hooking up with her) she won't be getting my vote. I would sooner vote for her knocked up 17 year old daughter's baby daddy for president. And her toddler with Down's Syndrome for vice-president.
And ummm.... not like I watch soap operas or anything... because I am a lawyer and have more important and intellectual things to do with my time when I take a day off, but does anyone think her husband looks like Bo Brady from Days of our Lives? It could just be me. But I think they bear a striking resemblance.
So, while the weather is still kind of nice, I think this whole sitting-in-my-backyard-with-a-glass-of-wine-and-my-computer-writing-blogs could be a really nice routiney sort of thing. And there are a lot of things I'm looking forward to writing about. Now that my life has settled down a bit, I think I've got the time to do it.
Except now I have to go get ready for a date with Lawyer.
Monday, September 01, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
I think this will accomplish several things.
1. It will keep me from remaining a recluse for the rest of my life.
2. It might also lead to me finding someone to bother and be bothered by on some sort of long-ish term basis. This would please my parents and friends immensely.
3. It will remind me to regularly shave my legs.
4. It might provide for interesting blogging material. Which is really the only reason for anyone to do anything. And, let's be honest, this blog has SUCKED ASS for months.
A couple of things, though. I'm never going to talk about sex. So don't get too titillated. I'm also going to be intentionally vague with pronouns. Just because.
So tonight, my date is with Lawyer. I know. Super original name, huh? Lawyer and I have some history together, which makes this date easier and more complicated at the same time. I'm very excited about it, though. Lawyer called yesterday and told me that this was a surprise date and told me where to be at a certain time. Should be interesting.
Details to come...
PS. Lawyer actually knows about this blog, and reads it regularly, so at some point during the date I am going to have to tell Lawyer that I plan on writing about it. That shouldn't be an issue, right? I mean, what kind of person would have a problem with that?????? Yeah. There's an ancient Lithuanian phrase for ladies like me. It roughly translates as "self-sabotaging assclown".
Friday, August 22, 2008
Dear Incoming 1L's,
As your first day of law school draws near, I thought I'd put together a little list of helpful advice. Who am I to be giving advice, you may be asking? No one. So don't take it if you don't want to. Anyone who has survived their first year, feel free to add to the list, as I'm sure I've left some things out. 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, but everyone knows the girl who did.
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.
Monday, August 18, 2008
They all felt something, but I felt nothing.
Except the feeling that this bullshit was absurd."
Bonus points for anyone who picks up on this classic musical theatre reference.
But, no seriously. Nothing. I REALLY want to come up with something witty, or thoughtful, or even just plain mean spirited. But I can't think of anything.
I have lots of things to bitch about, like the AIR SHOW WHICH I FUCKING HATE, but I do that every year.
I have to move in a few weeks. I'm kinda sad about that. But the place is ok. I can live with it. And I sort of like the fact that no one knows where I live. All the better to ignore people.
I'm also a little burned out on work. That sort of freaks me out, because it's only been a year. If I'm burned out after only a year, I have a long rest of my life ahead of me.
I am reading Daisy's Book Club book, and I am loving it. I can't put it down.
I'm bored. I'm boring. I wish I could come up with something to say. Go ahead and make suggestions, Dear Readers, if I have any Dear Readers left.
OH. I have made some decisions about my...um..err..uhhh.... romantic life. I've decided that I'm on the verge of being mature enough to be in a relationship. I haven't decided on the person yet, but I think that with the knowledge that I don't HAVE to be the world's worst girlfriend if I don't want to be, makes the whole dating thing seem possible.
That would probably give me something to write about, right? A new person?
Anyway, I'm really going to try to come up with something good. At some point. But again, I'll take suggestions. Please. I don't want my blog to die.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
1. I'm still really excited about my new place. I don't want to say much about it, you know, privacy and all, but one thing I will say is it's a coach house. And I thought coach houses were like garages. But they're not. They are really fucking cool. Well, mine is.
2. I have had people staying with me at my house almost every single night for the last week. And this weekend it continues. With my dad staying with me.
3. That awful thing that was supposed to happen one day in July, didn't happen. Am I relieved? No. It's still going to happen. Just...later.
4. Someone recently said to me "You're like this nordic loner, who would be completely content living alone in some ice hotel ordering herring for one from room service every day for the rest of your life." It's oddly flattering.
5. Oh! Congrats to Daisy, Scarlett and Anonymous Hottie who took the bar last week.
6. Congrats to Eddie and HASWOE who just moved to this fair fucking city.
7. I'm watching a movie right now starring Matthew Perry and he's playing the same role as Michelle Pfeiffer did in Dangerous Minds.
8. Which brings me to another point. Why is it necessary that in EVERY movie that involves inner-city youth, a teacher has to "connect with the students" by playing double dutch??
9. For those of you who live in Chicago, go get some freakin culture and go see "On an Average Day" at the Victory Gardens Theatre. Seriously. It's fantastic.
I'll write more later.