Thursday, July 30, 2009

Dear Readers,

There have been a few bloggers lately who have either changed names or taken down their blogs altogether. Some have been open about their new blogs and the reason for the new change. Daisy, for instance wants her blog to be more...family friendly. Some, citing privacy concerns have taken them down altogether, while other anonymous bloggers have reached a point where they don't feel they can say what they want, for fear they will hurt someone's feelings or they could get fired. That makes me depressed.
I suupose I should have the same fears. Well, I don't. Or rather, I won't anymore.

Here's the deal. I write this blog for me. I write because I like to. I write about things going on in my life. The good, the bad and the fucking weird. I don't blog from work, nor do I reveal any confidential information, nor do I say bad shit about my co-workers. I also don't write about breaking the law. Because I don't even fucking speed. I am a government lawyer and am held to a higher standard, and I welcome it. So what I write on this little blog has nothing to do with my employment.
Now there's the other part: not wanting to hurt other people's feelings. That's a little bit more difficult. Lately, I have had a lot of things I've wanted to talk about. Good and bad, there's been lots to say. However, I've totally been censoring myself. If I talk about the bad, I get threats. If I talk about the good, I get hurt feelings.

Well this fucking sucks. So now I'm stuck writing about the fucking office softball team? That's all I get? Fuck that.

I think people read my blog because I don't censor myself. Because I say exactly what I mean on this blog. And I'm not afraid of controversy on this blog. So, I'm not going to stop. I'm actually going to recommit to it. Now that I'm starting to feel a little more like myself, I feel more comfortable saying this: If you don't like what I have to say, please, feel free to go the fuck away. It's perfectly acceptable. I'll never even have to fucking know. Just stop reading.

I'm going to write about whatever the fuck I want to write about. And apparently I am going to use "fuck" every third or fourth word.

If you know me personally, don't worry. I'm not going to start identifying you. I never did it before, and I'm not going to start now. I'm also not going to talk about relationships. (I am in one, though)That's mostly because talking about relationships is a snoozefest. It's also because he (yes, it's a he) doesn't really follow blogs, and I think he would think it's weird if I wrote about him. Also, I want Scott Rose to think I'm still available to marry. Scott Rose, if you're reading this, please disregard this paragraph.

So. I guess I just had to get that off my chest. Thanks for reading.

Oh my fucking god. Quizno's is delicious. Why haven't I had it before? It's like a whole new world has opened up to me. Toasted deliciousness.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Softball

Rather than talk about what I have been trying to talk about for several weeks on this blog, let's talk about my new venture.

I. Play. On. The. Office. Softball. Team.

Today, I did well. I hit what is called a "Lined Rive" and some guy, as a result of my "Lined Rive" scored a goal. And I got to second base. My teammates were surprised by my batting skills.

Then, I did not fail my team later. I told them that under no circumstances would I catch a ball that is flying at me in the air, however, I also told them that under no circumstances would I let that ball get past me. I was accurate.

Later, because my office is full of hilarious angry people, the guys almost got in a fight with guys from the opposing team. We totally would have won.

That's all I got. Trying to blog more... not every post is going to be a winner. Especially after post softball beer.

Monday, July 27, 2009

To All Lawyers Everywhere:

Let's all take a moment and be grateful. Let's raise our collective glasses, and cheers each other. Why?

We're not taking the mother fucking bar exam tomorrow.

And to all the bartakers? From the bottom of my heart, I wish you all the best of luck. Especially Butterflyfish. You got this, Baby!!!!!

Friday, July 24, 2009

Dear Criminal Defendants,

I know you guys aren't necessarily the smartest bunch, so here's a tip from me to you.

When you are in a criminal courthouse, generally, there are a few different kinds of people. There are people wearing black robes. Those are the judges. There are people wearing little blue jackets. They are the clerks. There are people with black uniforms and guns. They are the deputies. There are people who look like they smoke a lot of pot. Those people are either you or your public defender. There are people who are carrying a crapload of file folders and wearing black suits. Those are the prosecutors.

Now that you know that, let's take it one step further. If you are standing outside of your courtroom, waiting for the courtroom to be unlocked, and you see a woman in a black skirt suit carrying a crap load of file folders, don't assume she's a fellow defendant and ask if you can lick her legs. First of all, the answer will almost always be no, and second of all, there's a good chance she's there to prosecute your pervy ass.

Best Regards,

Grace (your prosecutor)

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Dear My Darling Psycho-Out-of-Your-Minds, Want-to-Die Bartakers,

So, the bar exam is coming up. You are undoubtedly freaking the fuck out. As I have said before, I have no advice on how to pass the bar exam, as I am likely the dumbest person to have ever passed the fucking thing. A lot of people have asked me to repost this letter that I wrote from back when I took the bar exam. So, here you go. Pass it on if you want to.

Dear everyone taking the bar exam,

I want to wish everyone who is reading this good luck. We've all (mostly) worked really hard to get here, and we'll all (mostly) be fine.

Personally, I'm scared. I'm really scared. I feel like everyone around me knows more than me. But then they turn around and say that they are feeling the exact same way.

I've made a decision on how I'm choosing to think about these next few days, though. I've heard from lots of people, that these are going to be the two worst days of my life. Without having actually taken the bar, I can't be sure, but I'm going to go ahead and respectfully disagree. I think I've had worse. I've also heard that this is the hardest thing I'm ever going to have to do. Again, without having taken the bar, I am going to disagree.

There is no way this can be true. Not to be a Debbie Downer, but my parents are both alive. One day, they won't be. Dealing with that is going to be way harder than the bar exam. I've had to sit across the table from my fiance and tell him I didn't want to marry him. That was pretty tough. I'd rather take the bar than do that again. I've had to listen to someone I was in love with tell me they no longer loved me back. I'd rather take the bar 10 times than do that again. There was this guy. Bar exam wins. I've been the victim of a pretty bad crime. Sorry, but the bar exam MUST be better than that.

Don't get me wrong, the bar exam is going to SUCK. and I am going to give it the respect it deserves. However, it deserves no more respect than any other loss, grief, fear, anger,panic or heartbreak that I, or any of us, have ever already experienced. And survived. For my own sanity, this is the way I'm thinking about it. The bar exam is just another fucking hurdle. No biggie. And Wednesday, it will all be over.

So now, I'm going to quit rambling. I'm going to go do a few more hours of studying, then I'm going to pack a bag and head downtown. I'm going to meet Ms. Kori Amsterdam, we're going to check into a hotel, check out our test sites, and then go eat a nice dinner. Then we're going back to the hotel, going to watch some Will & Grace, and go to bed.

Then tomorrow morning, I'm going to go over to my testing site, and give the Illinois Bar Exam the hate fuck it so rightfully has earned.

Once again good luck to everyone. See you on the other side.

Sincerely,

Grace

Monday, July 20, 2009

lame

I can't believe I've only been writing like, once a week lately. I guess there's not a lot going on that's particularly funny or interesting. Today sucked. Like, really sucked. The only good thing that happened was I got like, 10 people thrown in jail. That's pretty good for one day.

I don't know. I just walked in the door, poured myself a martini, and ordered some Chinese food. Now I'm wrapped under a thick red blanket watching exceptionally bad television.

I want to wake up when it's 2010.

Somebody do or say something inspiring.

Unless you found this blog by googling something about the bar exam. Then you don't have to say anything. Just go look over holder in due course. Or drink a bottle of wine. Either way...

Monday, July 13, 2009

Magic Vag in The Midwest


So, lately, my ego has been put through the ringer lately. Apparently it’s been a good week for people to inform me, rather matter of factly, that I am sort of an asshole. I’m a bad person, a bad girlfriend, a bad friend, etc…

And I feel like I have been just conceding to this. Like, just rolling over and being like, yeah… I suck. Thanks so much for allowing me to share the planet with you extra awesome people.

Fucking enough of that. I fucking rock. No one else is allowed to tell me how much I suck for 1 week. At least 1 week.

So, this weekend, my best girl and I met up in the cosmopolitan wonderland that is Indianapolis. We do this once a year, because she lives in Australia but her family lives in Dayton, and Indianapolis is half way between Chicago and Dayton. So we go to Indianapolis and drink all of its booze. Last night was no exception.

We’ll call her Magic Vag. Because that’s what she’s got. And everyone should be lucky enough to have a Magic Vag in their life.

She is absolutely, hands down, my biggest cheerleader, my best advocate, and she’s balls-to-the-wall hot. And a freakin genius. 24 hours with her, and I’m thoroughly convinced I am as good of a woman as she believes me to be. So if you don’t agree with Magic Vag, maybe it’s time to go read another blog. Or better, just go fuck a cat. While reading another blog. And if you know me in real life, and don’t share the opinion of Magic Vag, maybe it’s time to lose my phone number. And, of course, go fuck a cat.

On my way back from Indianapolis, I hit a little bit of traffic. Nothing major, it allowed me to slow down enough to send this Twitter message from my Blackberry. (Yes, I’m on Twitter. I don’t really understand it. You can follow me if you want, but unless someone explains to me how it makes sense, I can’t guarantee it’s going to be worthwhile.)

“Driving back from Indiana. Interstate 65 can bite me. In fact, Indiana can bite me.”

Literally 7 minutes later, if that, the tire on my car blows out. On a Sunday. In Indiana. I pull over to the side of the interstate, and get out of the car. Tire is shredded. Then it hits me: I have absolutely no idea how to handle this situation. At once I curse Indiana, and Twitter. Clearly, Indiana follows me on Twitter, and took offense. I don’t have a spare tire. You can read why here in one of my older posts. And I don’t have AAA. And I’m in a fairly skimpy sundress. Fuck. So, I grab my purse and start walking. A hundred bucks and an hour and a half later, I’m back on the road with a brand new tire. Why? Because I fucking rock.

Thanks for the reminder, Magic Vag.

Monday, July 06, 2009

Dear My Female Friends in Chicago,

Ladies.

Stop getting in cabs by yourself. Especially if you've been drinking.

Ladies.

The next time you are ever inclined to say "Oh my god, Kristi is SOOO wasted!! Let's just put her in a cab and send her drunk ass home." Think twice. You are putting a woman, ostensibly, YOUR FRIEND in a situation where no one can protect her. It's her against the fucking cabdriver. The cabdrivers in this city are never held accountable. Neither are the cab companies. Think about it... would you let some random dude at a bar take your friend home? NO!! But you'll let a cab driver?

Ladies.

If you have friends in from out of town, and they need to get a cab after leaving a bar, GO WITH THEM.

Ladies.

If something doesn't feel right, it's probably not. And even if you're wrong, WHO FUCKING CARES? At least you acted in the interest of protecting yourself.


I don't know what the solution is. I think the bus, maybe. Chicago cabs are just not safe. They just aren't. They are most certainly not the safe haven solution we assume they are. those days MUST be over.

This was in the news today. And I can't get it out of my mind.

I fucking hate people.