Sunday, August 23, 2009

My Stolen Lines #6

Me: You really don't know what I'm talking about, do you?

Her: Not really, Grace.

Me: Well, it's just that I am unable to let go of things.

Her: That's tons of people, Gracie. I'm still angry at this fucking bitch I went to high school with who told everyone that I gave a blow job to...

Me: No... that's not what I mean. I mean like physical objects. Actually I can let shit like that go pretty easily. I don't hold grudges. I mean, sometimes I can't let go of physical objects, even when I need to.

Her: Again, Gracie, everyone has that problem. Why do you think your mom still has that ugly ass purple porcelain elephant next to the stairs? I have every single love letter that Ben ever sent me even though we broke up like 15 years ago. I have my size 2 jeans, for fucks sake.

Me: You know that's not it! I can get rid of stuff. I'm good at that. I'm not THAT sentimental. It's more like, I can't physically let go of stuff, even... no ESPECIALLY when it can hurt me. You know?

Her: You are being so hard on yourself, Grace. Stop it. Look at you. You quit smoking. You quit drinking coffee, diet coke. You quit eating meat. You take great care of yourself. Give yourself a break.

Me: You really don't know what I'm talking about, do you? I'm not explaining myself well. I don't know how to LET GO OF STUFF. For example, one time, my hair got caught in the curling iron in such a way that it was burning my scalp. All I had to do was let go of the handle, and the curling iron would fall to the ground. Another time, I was crossing the plaza with a big box of files, and I tripped over a power cord. If I let go of the box, I would have been able to use my hands to keep from falling on my face. But it didn't occur to me to let go of the box. You get it?

Her: Oh. OH! So literally... you can't let go of stuff?

Me: Yes. Literally. I can't let go of stuff.

Her: So, all you're saying is you're a stupid asshole?

Me: Yeah. I guess so.

Her: I understand that.

*** I stole the first line from Salaam Paris by Kavita Daswani as part of the Stolen Lines Experiment. Colby from Colby in the City found the line.

**Update Stolen lines from:
Lex Disciplus
Daisy, JD
Inaccurate Ninja
Ms. Foxy
Colby in the City
Butterflyfish
Harmless Error

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

RIP Softball

It looks like my glory was fleeting. I say this now, because I spent the day in the Emergency room, and now can only walk with the assistance of crutches. And crutches are mother fucking hard to walk with! It's bullshit. They make my arms hurt!

So the bad news is I can't walk. I was running to third base, and I don't know exactly what happened, but the really big 3rd baseman ended up falling on me as I was running. The next thing I remember was about 20 people standing around me while flat on my back on the field. Super sexy.

The good news is it isn't broken. Just fucked up. And I will only need crutches for a week or so. More good news, I got some pretty decent pain meds. More good news, I was safe at third. And the best news? I won't ever have to play softball again.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Boston Globe Can Suck It But Thanks Boston Globe!

So recently I was asked by two different websites to write for them. It's sort of flattering. I have decided to definitely do one, because I'll only have to write once every other week. The other asked me to provide a sort of sampler platter of what I consider to be the best/least stupid things I've written on this blog. Like ten posts that sort of sum up what this blog is about and what I am about. Kinda strange considering they could just read my blog themselves and decide what they think, but whatever. I'll do it.

It's really kind of hard, considering I think most of what I write is crap, and only occasionally there's a funny line or something. Unfortunately, that one funny line is usually surrounded by a bunch of bad grammar, immaturity, and the word fuck. I enjoy it, but it certainly isn't what anyone would ever call GOOD writing.

So anyway, while I was on the train, I remembered that I had written a post about the phrase "Drawing a line in the sand" that I kind of liked, but I didn't remember when I had written it. So, instead of going into my archives from my Blackberry which always takes forever, I googled "Drawing a line in the sand" & "dumbest phrase ever" and it pops up along with some other links. LIKE THIS ONE

In case you don't want to click on the link, this columnist for the Boston Globe, Jan Freeman, wrote this article about the history of the phrase "drawing a line in the sand" and in it she DIRECTLY QUOTES ME, albeit to make me look like an asshat, but still! I'm quoted in the fucking Boston Globe:

Not everyone bothers to look it up, though. One blogger mocks "line in the sand" as the "dumbest phrase ever," since waves, wind, and time will surely erode such a line. "If you want to draw a line to separate the acceptable from the unacceptable, USE SOMETHING OTHER THAN SAND," she exhorts.


Yep. She's talking about me. Those are my words. And if I didn't do this totally random google search, I never would have known. So that's pretty cool. But then on the other hand, Ms. Jan Freeman, what the fuck? First of all, just because you explained the origins of the stupid expression, doesn't make it any less stupid. Second of all, if you want to quote me, credit me, even if you're quoting me to tell me I'm a lazy loser. Sorta like how I quoted you and credited you? You know, like above? But anyway, thanks for quoting me anyway!

So, anyway...I think I found about 20 posts that I am considering submitting. I am going to cut the list down to about 10. The 20 I am considering can be found here. If you're considerably bored, and feel like reading them, let me know if you have any thoughts on which ones should be added or deleted. Only if you're really really bored though.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Stolen Lines #6

"You really don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

This line comes courtesy of Colby, from Colby in the City, a fantastic blog. She pulled the line from Salaam Paris by Kavita Daswani.

The rules: Start your post with the above line. End your post with "I stole the first line of this post from Salaam Paris by Kavita Daswani" 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 is write it.

Here, you can find the previous Stolen Lines.

RIP Ingrid


Oh, Ingrid. You were more than just another hot set of fins to me. We were friends.

You were a delightful composite of opposites: At once, both irreverant and devil-may-care, yet always on my case about renter's insurance.

Like all of those that came before you, you shall be missed.

Monday, August 03, 2009

Stolen Lines #6

Ok, even I pussed out on the last one. It's been a while. Let's go again. New Stolen Line will be posted on Monday, August 10. I am recommitting. Y'all should too.

Now I have to get back to prepping the closing argument for my jury tomorrow. Wish me luck...

Hey... if anyone has any interest in choosing a stolen line (Ahem, Colby, Butterflyfish, Brita) just say the word!

Saturday, August 01, 2009

Sleazy Defense Attorney


Not too long ago, I'm in my courtroom. I'm having a terrible day. The courtroom is packed, my trial partner and I are...not getting along to put it extremely mildly. The judge is annoyed with everyone. I had already cried twice and almost cried about three more times. Professionally, it was the worst day I'd had since I became an attorney.

The only thing that could make the day worse, I thought, was if the sleazy defense attorney showed up in court. I actually for real had that thought. Not ten minutes later, Sleazy Defense Attorney ("SDA") walks into my courtroom with his client.

Now, I see him enough in my courtroom, that I am not shocked and horrified anymore. Also, I usually know when he's coming in, because I obviously know what cases are on the day's trial call. Unfortunately, he motioned the case up, so I had no idea.

Anyway, he steps up to the bench right next to me, and asks the judge for what he and his client want. He manages to ask in such a way, that he makes the judge so mad she takes a recess, and stomps off the bench.

By this time, the courtroom has died down a little. My trial partner had long since abandoned me, so now I'm stuck in there with him. Feeling pretty bad. Feeling pretty sorry for myself.

All of a sudden, in walks my beautiful and perfect friend Kori Amsterdam. I felt like angels or something sent her. She walked over to me with her big gorgeous smile wearing her fantastic gorgeous suit and I just wanted to jump into her arms and kiss her. Being in a court of law, I refrained. She came in just to say hi. I pointed out SDA to her, and she was horrified for me. I told her about my day, and she suggested we go to one of our favorite downtown bars after work for a drink. I love Kori. She's perfect.

After court finishes for the day, I went back to my office, did a little work and then headed across the street to meet Kori. I saw her outside, smoking a cigarette and talking to her boss on the phone. I signaled to her that I'd grab some seats at the bar and meet her in there. Our other friend, the Dirty Hippie, would also be joining us.

As soon as I sit down, who do I see across the bar? SDA. Of course. He's at the other end of the bar.

By the way, I know I'm not telling this story well. I am famous for being bad story teller. Sorry.

So anyway, he sees me see him, and I guess I made an obvious "Are you fucking kidding me?" face, because he does this laugh- this "Wow, you sure are having a bad day, you poor little thing" laugh which makes me want to jump across the bar and punch him in the mouth. He's acting like we're somehow "in this together" or something.

I debate whether or not I should leave, but here's the thing: IT'S MY FUCKING FAVORITE BAR! IT'S MY FUCKING FAVORITE BARTENDER! HE SHOULD LEAVE - NOT ME. So I decide to stay. And I wait for Kori and the Hippie to show.

At the same time, I keep my eye on SDA. He's downing dirty martinis at a pretty quick pace.

Finally, Kori and the Dirty Hippie join me. I point out SDA to them, who both note that he won't stop staring at me. Fantastic. Fucking fantastic.

There are two bartenders. One who I know and love, and one who I don't know. the one I know and love comes up to us, and asks if we know SDA. I say yes, and ask him why he's asks. He tells me that he's been asking questions about us. I told him to please not say anything about me, as there's pending litigation. (He is also defending the cab driver in the civil suit) The bartender says of course he won't say anything.

SDA continues to stare at me. He's trying to fuck with me. He's trying to intimidate me. He's sort of winning. I try to keep up with the conversation between Dirty Hippie and Kori.

A few minutes later, the other bartender, the one I don't know comes up to us and says- I am not making this up- "The guy at the end of the bar wants to buy you ladies a round of drinks."

The three of us sit there for a moment, completely shocked. Completely and utterly shocked. Just to be clear, I ask the bartender WHICH guy at the end of the bar wanted to buy us a drink. Sure enough, it was the Sleazy Defense Attorney. I say to the bartender "Please tell him, no thank you."

The Dirty Hippie says "NO! Don't say 'no thank you,' say 'no fucking way.'" I love her.

We then decide that it's been enough, and we leave. He won. Again. But not really. He just proved, again, that he's the sleaziest man alive.

I mean, how fucked up is that? Pretty fucked up.

I don't know why I'm even telling this story. Maybe because I was scared to tell it before. And this is all part of my not being scared to write about whatever the fuck I want to.

Thank you, Dirty Hippie and Kori Amsterdam for being there for me. I love you both very much. And to the person who afterwards fed me Chinese food and wrapped me in a warm blanket: thank you, too.

**UPDATE- at dinner tonight, I was informed by Ms. Kori Amsterdam that she in fact was the one who told the bartender to tell SDA "No Fucking Way." My apologies, Ms. Amsterdam.