Sunday, March 29, 2009

Dear Ridiculous Gossipy Bitches,

Now, normally, I don't get uptight when I hear gossip about me. I hate it, but I understand that people do, in fact, talk. There are lines that shouldn't be crossed though.

I know you are still in law school, and as anyone who has been to law school can attest to, law school is the same as junior high school, but with booze. Therefore, you are given a little wiggle room in the maturity department.

Enough is enough, though. You've had your bitchy little fun. You've fucked with me. You've fucked with people I care about. You've invaded my privacy. You have hurt me very deeply. And you don't even know me. You just know things about me. Well, here's something you don't know about me: The time in my life where people get to fuck with me is over. It's just not going to happen. And I sure as shit am not going to stand by as you fuck with the lives of people I care about.

So here's the deal: Stop. Just stop. Or I will ruin your life.

Most Sincerely,


Sunday, March 22, 2009

My Stolen Lines #3

There's something that I've been thinking about and wondering about and I'm very curious: am I the only one who knows?

No, honey. Everyone knows. Well, most people know.

Clearly not everyone.

No, but everyone should. But don't forget, there are exceptions.

Not really.

No, there are!

If there are exceptions, there's no way he was one of them.

Are you sure?

What do you mean?

Maybe he's a cowboy?


Maybe he handles sharp objects often?


Does he work at the Renaissance Faire?

NO! He's a professional boxer.

Oh. Well, then, no... he really doesn't fall into one of the exceptions does he?

No. (pause) Do you think I overreacted?

Well, I don't know. (long pause) Was there fringe?


Then it's hard to tell. It was your boss's wedding. and you kinda just didn't show up. That's not cool.

I KNOW! But I didn't have a choice! It was black-fucking-tie!

Was he trying to be ironic?

No. He's too stupid.

How could you not have seen this coming?


Touche. Lower your voice, Gracie. What were you wearing?

Sorry. My black backless Halston.

Ugh. What a waste. You should have just gone.

I couldn't. (pause) Did I mention there was a matching vest?



I didn't know that. I would have faked an asthma attack too. And then beat him to death with the matching suede vest. You did the right thing, Grace.

A Public Service Announcement- Men: Stay away from suede pants. And skinny jeans, while you're at it.

*I stole the first line of this post from Then We Came To The End, by Joshua Ferris

Update: Stolen Lines By:
Legally Irrelevant
Brita James
Five Tomatoes
The Shire Smartie
My Favorite Future Firetruck, Obsquatch

Friday, March 20, 2009

A Holiday I don't Hate

So, if you've been reading my blog for a while, or you know me personally, you know I fucking hate the holidays. Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentines Day, St. Paddy's, Mardi Gras, my birthday, Halloween... whatever. I hate them all. they make me sad.

Tonight, I found myself waiting to stay awake until midnight. Like many do for New Years, or their birthday, or Santa Claus...and when midnight hit, I cried with happiness and relief.

Today I realized that today is MY holiday. I am TOTALLY and with absolutely no cynicism whatsoever, going to celebrate today. The first day of Spring. And I am going to do it every year from here on out. I WISH I had known beforehand. I would have planned a party. I would have requested the day off.

Winter can go fuck itself. Happy First Day of Spring, everyone!

I am going to come up with themes and mascots and special foods and stuff for this new holiday.

And I shall drink a First-Day-Of-Springtini.

I am taking suggestions on what that drink is made of.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Dear White, Male, Private Criminal Defense Attorneys Over Fifty,

This "Lady-Lawyer" has some suggestions for you. As always, in no particular order...

1. When you see me walk into my courtroom before the morning call has started, and I am carrying a HUGE box of case files, and I haven't even had a chance to put them down, don't come up to me to discuss the unique and particular needs of your client. I do not know who the fuck you are. I do not know who you represent. And I do not know what your client has done. Give me a moment. One moment to put my things down. It's the polite thing to do.

2. When I am talking to another defense attorney, do not walk up and start talking to me. Wait until it is your turn.

3. If you happen to know that I am new, do NOT, DO NOT, tell me "how it's done". I don't care if you used to be "in the office." I do not need to be "trained" by you.

4. Do not wink at me.

5. Do not tell me to smile.


7. If you don't like the offer I give you, don't go to my male first chair. He will not change the offer. It's bad form. Not to mention the fact that I'm new, and have to clear my offers with him anyway. Now you've just insulted me, and annoyed him.

8. If you want to tell me one thing in the hallway, and then the complete opposite thing in front of a judge, do not come up to me later and say "I'm sorry, you'll learn that is how it works." I do not accept that "that is how it works." No... "that" is not how it works. "That" is why lawyers have bad reputations as untrustworthy and dishonest. I strive to be better. That sort of sage advice is not welcome.

9. Did I mention don't touch me? OH! Don't touch me.

10. Do not, please, for the sake of humanity, don't send your client out of the room, and then proceed to tell me what an idiot/loser/fuckup your client is. Think it, if you wish. You are probably right. Your client probably IS an idiot/loser/fuckup. But your idiot/loser/fuckup client has paid you good money to not be a backstabbing asshole. They hired someone to be their advocate. They NEED that. BE their advocate. And not just to their face. You don't have to like them or respect them. But bashing them just makes you look worse than you already do for winking and touching and interrupting me.

11. I wear a skirt 2-3 times a week. Yes. I know I have nice legs, but we are IN A COURT OF LAW. It is not appropriate to comment on them. (Namby Pamby, you know you are the exception)FURTHERMORE, don't you DARE let me hear you commenting on my legs or any other part of my body to YOUR CLIENT. (IE "Perks of this courtroom, Jose, young, sexy prosecutors you can go home and whack off to..." You want to be a zealous advocate for your client? Zealously advocate for a happier and healthier future for your often young, often undereducated, often underprivileged male client. Don't demonstrate that it's ok to objectify women. If they see it's ok to disrespect a woman who actually has the power to get them thrown in jail, how do you think they are going to treat the other women in their lives?

12. Say please and thank you. I will, too.

13. Don't tell me what my first or second chair did or said on a previous court date, if it's not true. I will NEVER believe you. I will always ask them first. And then you're stuck looking like a fucking liar.

14. Oh my GOD. Jeans are not appropriate for court. Even with a sportcoat. And Betty Boop ties on anyone, let alone you, are so fucking insanely wrong. If I were a defendant, and my defense attorney showed up with jeans and a betty boop tie, I would ask for my money back. you disrespect us all.

That's all. For now. You may be wondering why this letter is directed exclusively to the white, male, criminal defense attorneys over the age of 50. Well, there's a reason. YOU ARE THE ONLY ONES WHO BEHAVE LIKE THIS!!!!!!!

For the first few weeks in this new assignment, I may have appeared vulnerable. I was. For many reasons. Some personal, and some professional. Now, I am not so vulnerable.

Do. Not. Fuck. With. Me.


Lady-Lawyer Grace

PS Don't fucking touch me.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Stolen Lines #3

There's something that I've been thinking about and wondering about and I'm very curious: am I the only one who knows?

The rules: Start your post with the above line. End your post with "I stole the first line of this post from Then We Came To The End, by Joshua Ferris" And maybe link back to me so people can understand the point of the post.

And whatever you put in the middle is up to you.

There's no deadline. Write whenever you feel like it. If you want to have your post included, just leave a comment or send me an email telling me you've posted.

PS. This is open to absolutely anyone. All you have to do it write it.

Here, you can find the previous Stolen Lines.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Stolen Lines #3 Coming Soon

Stolen Lines #3. I'll post the new line on Wednesday March 18.

And thanks for all the sweet birthday wishes. Does someone wanna call either of my fucking parents and remind them it's their daughter's fucking birthday?

Ok. Stolen Lines. Wednesday. That's all.

The Ides of March. My Birthday

Is today. I'm generally not a birthday person, because I think the wrong person gets celebrated. I didn't shoot something the size of a waterman out of something the size of a kiwi. My mom did. Thanks Mama Grace. I supposed I deserve some credit for STAYING alive, which I have managed to do. But that's not really the holiday.

Anyway. It's my birthday. I'm going to go walk the dog, then go buy some new sunglasses, a new sexy bra, and a bottle of champagne.

Then I am going to come home and drink my bottle of champagne while wearing only my new sunglasses and sexy bra and watch Law and Order Marathons.

Then I shall do some laundry.

OOOOH and if any of you care, I am no longer a sparkly blonde. I am a very light shade of brown. I mean, in some lights, it's still totally blonde. But it's really not. I think Grace just needed an upgrade.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Dearest Lilly Valencia,

I was really sad after our IM conversation. I love you. And I am very sorry. I woke up this morning thinking about you, and I thought about you more as I walked to the el.

And then I saw this a few blocks down. And I knew you still loved me.


Holli Seattle

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

By Order of Court

Or Order Of Grace... whatever.

Parmesian cheese is no longer considered dairy.

And neither is fresh mozzarella.

Whatever. It's true.

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

A 4AM rant. Totally Not Worth Reading.

I've tried to write something several times now that wasn't depressing or whiny or whatever. And honestly, it just didn't sound right. It sounded false. And not at all funny. And I wish it didn't, because being funny is way better, but I guess the fact is there's not a lot that's fucking funny right now.

It's 4 fucking am. I went to sleep at about 1 am. That's 3 hours of fucking sleep. Which is sort of the standard lately. Ever since the fucking trial, it's like I've gone back in time to when it happened. Can't sleep. Even with Ambien. Can't get anything done.

I sort of knew, (because crappy books which never should have been bought told me so), that after the trial I would be a little emotionally... disheveled. And I was ok with that. Because I completely assumed that the cab driver would be convicted, and although testifying would be hard, it would be fairly easy to pick myself up, dust myself off and move on, because ultimately, the world was better and safer. Well that last part didn't happen. And the world is not better, and not safer. And I can't fucking sleep. And there are WAY too many cabs in the city of Chicago.

Oh, and by the way, giving up meat and dairy and caffeine is stupid. I am sticking to it, because I am not a quitter, but seriously, what the fuck was I thinking? It is a FACT, that the three best things in life, besides wine, are steak, cheese, and Diet Coke. That can't ever change. Not possible. I love them so much that if I could, I would wear a suit made out of steak, my bra and underwear would be made out of cheese, and I'd have a wreath of diet coke cans on my head like a tiara. I gave up cigarettes a couple of years ago. Shouldn't that be enough?

Oh, and another thing. My dog is useless. She's just lying next to me, asleep. As if nothing ever is wrong. I want to be my dog. She's so... content.

A few weekends ago, I went back to Los Angeles to visit friends. It probably wasn't the smartest trip to take, because a lot of people out there don't know what happened, so I spent a lot of time answering the question "How ARE you?" with a big fat fake fucking grin and then going on about how AWESOME everything in my life is and how happy and ok I am. It was exhausting. One night, a big group of us were leaving dinner, and we got into a car accident. The car behind us, also filled with my friends, just slammed right into us. Thankfully no one was hurt at all. As we all got out to check the cars and each other for damage, I actually breathed a sigh of relief. I wish it was solely because no one was hurt, but it wasn't. It was also because this time that crunchy, awful, smashy, noisy, car-accident-y feeling that had been recurring on a loop in my mind and body for the last few weeks, actually was a car accident. And not something else. So fucked up. This is who I've become. Awesome. Fucking awesome.

Ok.. it's 5:00 now. This post sucks. My dog is snoring. Time to go check Facebook.

Monday, March 02, 2009

Dear Loud Talkers,

I have a new phone. I can take pictures on my phone, and I can also blog from my phone. And a bunch of other stuff that I can't figure out yet. But here's my point...

Shut the fuck up, or face the consequences.

Love, Grace

PS. Scott Rose, I'm sorry, it's not an Iphone. I am aware that you won't marry me until I succumb, but the iphone is not included in my work cellphone discount plan... care to pull some strings?