The Game Is On

I can't help it, I am completely addicted to Wimbledon. Every year, every thing else falls away while I watch. I know it's not all tennis, because I don't really watch other competitions. I think it's because I'm an Anglophile.

I really want to go someday, sooner rather than later. I'm completely willing to fork over the (I'm sure) outrageous amount of cash it will take to get amazing seats, Centre Court, for the men's and women's finals. I don't want to be sitting outside watching a big screen, or having cheap seats in the stadium.

I can be had. Just get me there.

Things You Don't Know About Me

1. What's your favorite/theme song?
"She's Always A Women" - Billy Joel

2. Have you ever shot a gun?
Yes

3. What are you allergic to?
dryer sheets
sulfa drugs

4. What do you love to eat?
Burgers and cheesecake

5. What have you never eaten?
Sweetbreads. Organ meats.

6. What makes you the happiest?
Success. Friends.

7. What makes you the saddest?
Overly long grey days. Friends not doing well.

8. What's the first thing you think when you wake up?
Where's my cat? Do I have to work today?

9. What are you afraid of?
Any insect that has a shadow.

10. What's your favorite kind of dessert?
Snickerdoodles! Oh, and cheesecake.

I'm sure there's more you don't know. If you want to, just ask!

The Downside

As you know, I have pages on Facebook and on MySpace. I've been fortunate in that people I've known have added me, so I can know what's going on in their lives. Mostly, the boys I've known in the past. It's a weird feeling to have your exes as your "friends" on these sites. Lately, The Boy has been a part of my life again, and that's a good thing.

The downside is that I can (kinda) follow the other's lives. I did some damage, as they did to me, but I can honestly say I want the best for them. Last night, I think I broke a rule. My ex-fiance posted that he hated women. I thought I was cute, I posted back that no he didn't. Today, as I check up on him, I see that he's changed his status from "relationship" to "single".

I feel really badly for him. He's a good person, and I'm sure a good father, and I hate that it fell apart.

But I know the worst idea is to try to contact him. And that's the real downside of knowing.

Project Runway

I am super-psyched for the upcoming season of Project Runway. I'll admit, I was late to the party. I had to watch both Seasons 1 and 2 as re-runs. But I made it, and now I'm addicted.

I'm a little concerned, though. I just read that Bunim-Murray is going to be the producer of the show, rather than Magical Elves. Bunim-Murray is the talent that has brought us 20? 21? seasons of The Real World. Apparently it also produced America's Psychic Challenge, as well.

Lovely. What is Bunim going to do to our beloved Project Runway? Will Tim Gunn be forced to admit his failings on TV? Will Heidi Klum be allowed clothes, or even worse, will she be allowed to be sober? What about our contestants? Despite the drama on the show, will it be enough to sate the palates of our MTV watchers?

Besides, the glory of Runway being on Bravo is that Bravo runs about 1000 re-runs each week, so if TiVo and I are having a conflict, I can always catch a later showing. Will this change on Lifetime?

I'll do more research, but this doesn't bode well.

Random

Whenever I use my Winamp, I use the shuffle button. I've got all my (too much) 12 gigs of music on there, and I expect a true shuffle.

Why is it that I never get one? I think Winamp has songs it wants me to hear, as if I'm supposed to learn a lesson. I don't want a lesson. Actually, I want Winamp to intuit what I want to hear, but that will never happen.

Years ago, when I worked at geeks-r-us (I really did enjoy that job, but still) one of the engineers spent too much time trying to explain that there may not really be a true concept of random. (I say "too much" not because I was bored and wanted him to stop, but because I only understood maybe 1/5 of what he was saying.)

But maybe he was right. Maybe random is only a theory/hypothesis. I don't know. But I do know that if some of the same damn songs keep popping up, I'm going to cry. Of course, it might help if I didn't have so much BAD music on this thing. But as I've said before, I don't throw away music. You never know when you're going to need to hear that song "We Are Not Alone" from The Breakfast Club.

In today's All About Me section, Rex made a comment on his page about the ads on Facebook. I've been ranting about them for a while now. (Yes, R., that one's for you. It really is all about me. PS - this is my damn online diary! What else did you think I'd write about?)

Stories about Your Favorite Person

I'm flashing back to an earlier post about growing up. I'm trying to think of more stories about me. The goal is to find some that a) won't completely embarrass me and b) won't give away too much about another person.

Ooh, here's one, about a really scary day.

When I was in junior high (it was junior high, because it was only 7th and 8th grades, not like this middle school crap.) one of my best friends was a guy named Mark. We really were just buddies, and I guarded him jealously, as I do with all my friends. We only lived like 5 minutes from each other, so sometimes we'd get together and walk up to the cute little ice cream shop/drug store that was nearby. (It really was walk up, too, not a bad hill unless you're walking or riding a bike.)

We were crossing the median, just BSing, when a car drove by, slowed down, and a passenger took out a gun and shot Mark. It was a good shot too, got him right in the breastbone. I froze. He fell down, and I just froze. I didn't know what to do. There was red all over his chest.

He then opened his eyes and looked at me. He was shocked, too, and I just stood there. Then he started to try to get up. I think that he groaned that he hurt.

Turns out, the fuckhead who shot him used a paintball gun. Mark was OK, but had a wicked bruise for a while.

And that was the first time I ever knew abject, pure terror.

I kinda miss Mark. I last heard from him when I was 18. I wonder if I could find some of his letters, find his last name, and see if I can stalk him on Facebook.

Momma's OK!

And I could not be more thankful. Here's the quick run-down...since we first starting discussing a hip replacement for her, we worried about anesthesia. My Grandma died from complications for anesthesia, oh, and possibly the doctor in Florida who most needs his licensed pulled and an amazing beating.

So, she decided to get checked out. Turns out her heart isn't great, and the risk was too severe. So the doctor decided to work on her heart. That opened up a whole new can of worms. Suddenly she's on Coumidin and is having trouble breathing. My fear grew as quickly as hers did. We both have gallows humor, so we managed, but quietly, I was having trouble functioning. And, if I must be honest, I started considering that my Momma was going to die, sooner rather than later. I actually had thoughts about how I'd tell people, how I'd feel, what I'd do next. Sometimes, it made me feel better. Mostly, it scared the shit out of me. I'm violently attached to my Momma. I know one day all this will happen, but I can't even imagine how I'll deal.

Anyway...moving on. So today she had to have a "procedure" which involved general anesthesia. Or so I thought. I pulled her nurse out of the room, immediately started crying, and asked her to explain what was going on. I really didn't want Momma to see me cry, to see how worried I was. I knew she was worried too. Turns out, it wasn't general anesthesia, but just sedation, so the doctor could shock her heart back into a normal rhythm. I felt a little better.

So, they took her. I was sitting alone in the waiting room (I had managed to ditch my dad and Momma's good friend. I just couldn't handle them too.) I hugged her and said that I'd see her soon. Sitting alone, I could only stare at her watch. (I was wearing it for safe-keeping.) I could not stop the tears. I thought I'd either cry forever, or beat the woman who was chattering loudly to some new acquaintances. Momma's friend found me, held me, and helped calm me down.

Outcome: Momma's OK. One shock and her heart became a step-and-fetch-it. Momma's now home, enjoying a muchly earned Subway sandwich, and I'm at home, telling you more than I should and being incredibly relieved. Score one for this doctor.

But I've still got his number.

Wimbledon

In case you didn't know, I'm an absolute freak/fan about Wimbledon. We will definitely be talking about this soon.

(Back to the random pseudo-stalking - thanks for reading!)

Oh, and apparently Federer is wearing cardigans this season, and Sharapova is wearing tuxedo-inspired outfits. We will definitely have our fun.

btw - I have a crush on Federer.

Bad Marketing

I've mentioned before about my old job, the one I had before law school. I've neglected to tell you my favorite story about working there. Bear with me; this might be long, but it's absolutely worth it. (Also, I'm trying to distract myself from worrying about tomorrow.)

One of my numerous job positions there was as a Marketing Specialist. (Nice title, right?) In that role, I worked on putting together the obvious marketing techniques, and also more specialized pieces of information. My company was in the business of consultancy, but it also produced very specialized software.

In its infinite wisdom, the company hired a CMO (chief marketing officer). Now, I had no problem with that, because I had (and still have) no marketing training. I viewed it as a role I learned from my psychology degree (seriously, I had that much hubris). By the time the company hired the CMO, I had moved to a position in HR. Still, since I was the most involved in marketing, the powers that be told the CMO to talk to me if there was anything he needed.

This man was a complete, utter douche. Just the last person you'd ever want to deal with. He was way too cocky, way too self-assured. When he introduced himself to me, and told me his ideas, he left me with this parting comment. "Anything I learned about marketing I learned by doing!" Now, I listened to his ideas, and managed not to laugh. And fortunately for me, I didn't reply as I wanted to. "It shows."

Fast forward a couple of months. The company was developing a pretty damn awesome, essentially quick-fire software for easy rendering and analysis of designs.

My friend and I were walking down the hallway, when we passed by douche's office. Outside his door, he had posted an idea for the name of this software.


Wait for it...


Wait for it...

ANAL.

I shit you not. I laughed so hard I slid down the wall and had everyone else in that hallway looking outside their doors at me. Douche then poked his head outside and saw me.

"What?" he said. I just pointed and laughed at the sign. He said, "Well, it analyzes designs..." That just made me laugh harder. Better yet, he NEVER understood why that was funny.

It's still funny. Oh, and the company picked a different name. Thank God.

Grammar

I confess, I am a bit of a grammar Nazi. I let myself off the hook more often than I should, and I have most definitely learned the hard way not to correct my friends. They don't think it's helpful or funny.

But what gets me is mistakes from legitimate media. I tend to trust NPR more than any other news source (save the BBC). Today, on the way home, a reporter said something that included highers-up. That's not what she said, though. She said, "higher-ups". Oh, man, that drives me crazy!!

So, for all you out there, it's highers-up, mothers-in-law, and attorneys general. You do not pluralize the modifier, you add the ess to the first word.

Spread the word, so we don't sound as dumb as we surely don't mean to.

News...

I'm very saddened to hear that George Carlin died. I always respected his sensibilities, even if I didn't agree with his content. A few years ago, he came to Huntsville to perform. I thought it was rather brave of him to come here, as this is a pretty conservative area and I didn't think he'd get the warmest reception.

The show was great!! But there were definitely more empty seats by the end of his performance than at the beginning. I think people thought he'd tone down his act for this area, but I knew he would not. Needless to say, Baptist Huntsville was not amused by his views on religion. Not too surprising.

I'm starting to suffer from burnout. I've been on, too much, for the past while and I need to slow down, figure some stuff out, and also concentrate more on the damn bar. I don't know yet what this means about the rabid posting I've been doing.

Boring, So Endlessly Boring

Aside from the few useful tidbits I've picked up while studying, I find studying to be just about the most tedious thing on the planet. Why can't the bar examiners test on the kinds of law I actually want to practice? Seriously, figuring out which statute = race, notice, or race-notice is dull. I don't want to practice property or real estate law. Besides, if I ever have to know it, I can look it up, like every other lawyer on the planet. I'd rather be tested on immigration, tax, or wills. That's the sort of thing I want to do.

I know, I know, we have to know the very basics of the law in order to be competent lawyers. I get the logic behind it. But I don't like it. At. All.

Oh, but for those (any?) of you who are sitting for this monster (I had a better word, but I can't spell it) next month, here's the tidbit I learned. You can thank me later.

Equal Protection = denying some people a right
Due Process = denying everyone a right

Back to the salt mines. I'd rather have your attention.

The Start

OK, this is my story of learning how to be me.

When I was 14, and had to ride the bus to and from high school, there was a guy who was a senior at the time. His name was Dave, and he used to give us little quizzes on the way home. One day, he asked us, "What's your favorite song right now?" I answered, "True Faith." He asked, do you mean "Faith, by George Michael?"

No, I replied. I meant "True Faith" by New Order. He instantly sat down by me, and we started talking.

That was the day that I started my change. A couple of years later, he tried to kill himself. He was not successful then. I hope he never was.

And that was the beginning of my life.

It's Getting Better

I talked to one of my favorite friends from law school tonight. I love talking to her. It's kinda funny how people who knew us before law school think we're the same as we are now. It's like they expect us to be who they think we were. Like we wouldn't learn from life and grow up. But we did. I hope she and I get to talk more in the future. (Oh, A., if you want to send me the number when I can reach you, I won't be mad.)

Oh, I'm seriously getting closer to the goal I have with the boy. Here's hoping. I might just actually L. him.

Inappropriate Songs For Funerals

Oh, the AV Club. Thank you for doing this inventory. I must admit that I am very grateful that I am alone in my office right now, as I am laughing so hard there are tears running down my face. Ouch! And mascara! I can't remember when I've laughed this hard from reading alone. Seriously, and I'm only on the first page of the article, my favorite part is the Cutting Crew suggestion. And to think, I always thought that song was about reading his girlfriend's diary and not being happy with the results. Now I will always have that gorgeous mental picture of a casket and possibly the best sound system ever, just rockin' out. I really hope I'm there to see it.

Now I'm on to the comments. This should be good. There are some crazy damn commenters in AV Club Land.

OK, best one: "Anything by the Bloodhound Gang (particularly if there had been an unsavory sexual aspect to the deceased's passing - the shout out 'gettin' horny now!' from The Bad Touch would be a real crowd pleaser)..." I laughed so hard I cried off all my makeup.

My work here is done.

The Lazy Blogger

Forgive me, I've got nothing else today. So enjoy!

I AM: under- and overwhelmed, at the same time

I WANT: to pass this damn bar and also know there's a good job out there for me

I WISH: I could have my way

I HATE: worrying about my Mom's health, and carrying everyone else's woes when I need to be heard too

I MISS: the boy

I FEAR: not passing the bar. Being ignored.

I HEAR: right now, Madonna's Borderline

I WONDER: how all this will play out. What life will look like this time next year.

I REGRET: doing the damage I do. Not having enough willpower.

I AM NOT: entirely crazy.

I DANCE: in the shower.

I SING: loudly in my car. I've given up caring who hears me.

I CRY: at the most inopportune times.

I AM NOT ALWAYS: clever, or brave.

I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: nifty little circles that most people can't do.

I WRITE: more than I ought to.

I CONFUSE: attention with love.

Yeah, I know, it came from Favorable Dicta. So what?

Ugh

I'm tired, I'm worried, and I do not look forward to work today. Hopefully it won't be too bad, maybe I'll have some work to do to make time fly by. That would be the best case scenario. The worst case is when my boss calls me, I'll answer "What?" instead of being a good little step-and-fetch-it and running into her office.

I think I'm just overwhelmed. It's so close to test time, and if the calendar doesn't remind me daily, my complexion certainly does. What a wonderful side effect to stress! I get to look as bad as I feel. And since it takes about a week to ten days to recuperate, I get to look icky for two more months. Rapture.

OK, off I go. Wish me luck. My patience is seriously dwindling.

Free Day!

I decided, at about the exact time I was checking the water temperature in my shower, that I wasn't going to work today. I've been kvetching for the past few days that it's way too freaking hot here too freaking early. Today, it's gorgeous. I've spent the time doing some shopping and reading. I know that after today I'm not going to be able to read a lot, the damn bar is coming.

Where's the balance? I've been struggling to figure out how to balance life, work, and study. This is, as I've mentioned, the hard part about the bar. I feel like I'm already beyond it, that I'm already working, but I still have to jump through that (BIG) hoop.

I just don't want to (continue) get completely crazy, where I alienate everybody.

So this day off is exactly what I need.

Joel McHale

...Sigh... So dreamy! I've had a crush on him since I first saw him on The Soup. And then I saw this interview on the AV Club. He's got the perfect combination of smarm and gorgeousity, what's not to love? Alas, he's married, but still, at least I have my standing Friday night date with him. He's not as beautiful as, say, Johnny Depp, but he seems like someone who'd be a lot of fun to have a beer with.

I'd be afraid, while probably having to drink wine with Johnny, that the conversation would surround esoteric directors and movies. And while I'm all for esoteric movies and directors, in theory, I have no frame of reference because I have the attention span of a toddler. Or a gnat. Probably more of a toddler; gnats seem to swarm in a circle a lot. With Joel, I could talk about all the bad television I want, and make up stories about the other patrons in the bar that would eventually have me shooting beer out of my nose.

And I will always love Chat Stew; "so meaty" cracks me up every time I hear it. The whole show has me in stitches. Thank goodness for TiVo so I can go back and rewatch what I missed while laughing from the previous segment.

So, I adore me some Joel McHale. Oh, and he's tall, too! I'm somewhere around 5'8", so height on a boy means a lot to me. Means I can wear heels. Oh, hell, I hate wearing heels. But I do love the way they sound when I walk on the bank floor. Makes me feel all grown up or something.

So, read the article. Then read the comments below for a whole lotta Kinnear v. McHale discussion.

You're welcome.

The Work

So, things are back in order and I can thankfully access the internet at work again. Oh, yeah, and the work-related stuff I was lacking as well. I think we all know which is my priority. So I caught up on the New York Times and other news, read the gossip at New York Daily News (remember that many of my favorite pages are blocked at the bank), and otherwise meandered around.

The problem with this is that I run out of sites to look at when I get home. I expect an information and laugh party any time I'm surfing around, and I'm starting to get bored. (Didn't help that the work husband called out today, so I was bored and lonely.)

So, people, send me your suggestions of favorite things to read. Doesn't matter if they're NSFW, because I can always indulge my adoration of smut when I get home.

More likely, the problem is that I spend too much time on the computer. But that's not likely to change, so help a sister out here!

Boys

Figuring out boys is difficult. I've often wondered how to get to them, to figure them out the way that, after time, I can get women.

I've talked to 2 very different boys tonight. I've enjoyed both conversations. One is way more earnest; the other is challenging. I think the key here is time to understand both of them.

The problem is, as I've mentioned, one is "the boy". The other is new.

I have no doubts, updates to come. Please try not to laugh at me too much.

Hooray!!

Maybe she'll leave Bar Exam 2005 up anyway! I hope so. It's funny how I'm about 2-3 years too late to these blogs. Maybe if I had known that there were people out there talking about law school and the bar exam back then, I might not have had the 1L nervous breakdown. Well, no point in ruing the past. I definitely learned a lot about my true friends and my own self that year, so maybe it needed to happen.

Anyhoo, if she's going to leave it up, I'm going to add it to my list of things I read, so all of you out there who are now 6 weeks away from the dreaded test can read it and feel a little more human.

In that vein, I wonder if it's harder for people who are in relationships to get ready for the bar. When I get completely overwhelmed and freaked out, at least I'm at home alone so I can attack another person. But on the other hand, I don't get any support. (Not ANY, I'm not that self-centered.) But since I'm single, I don't have someone I can ask to please make dinner or take the trash out for me or remind me to bathe regularly. Any thoughts?

I Will Pay For This

I do adore talking to the boy. I talk to him often; he makes me feel desired. He also likes to make me argue. He's wrong in a lot of ways. That's what makes me want to talk to him, so I can change his mind. I highly doubt that will ever happen. That's OK though, I'm not disagreeing in order to be right, but to have him listen.

Oh, cripes. I want this to be good. But going through all my past, I doubt it.

And I will pay for blogging about him.

Nothing New Here

Just another quiet Saturday. I should be studying, but instead I'm playing on Facebook and pretending that reading blogs is actually learning the law. With any luck, it'll work!

I have pretty hair again after a visit to my hairdresser. There is nothing like a blow out to make me feel good. Especially since her blow outs last at least 2 days! That'll be no excuse when my hair looks like crap again on Monday, since I'm too lazy to style it unless I have to. Sitting behind a desk for 7 hours is not enough momentum to get me to bother.

More later, I'm sure.

How Are You?

This is my most recent response to that question:

I'm good. But "how are you" is an easy question to answer. Here's the recap since I was 19. Got degrees. Decided they weren't enough. Got another degree, equally useless. Moved back home with mother. Mother kicked my ass, made me get a job. Got engaged. Got un-engaged. Liked my job, but knew it wouldn't be good enough for the long run. Decided to give job an ultimatum (sp), more money or I'll quit. Quit, needless to say. Went to law school. Law school sucked four ways from Sunday. Now am getting ready to take the bar exam in July. Terror.
No kids for me, just never wanted them. Still single, pretty happy about that, still there are prospects.
How come every time I think of you I think of guns, and btw, wtf happened in school that you had to leave?
PS, oh yeah, still (or back) in Huntsville.

Is that bitchy?

The Work Thing

So, I finally found out what happened. My manager's boss' boss didn't know about all the temps, so to retaliate, he closed out the accounts of all the temps. Pretty brutal, but I guess it got his message across. Manager's boss then had to go to him and justify our existence. So now the support team is working to get everyone reinstated. I figure it'll take until Monday, so I decided to just come home. I had NO work. None. And I can't just sit there, twiddling my thumbs, for another 4 hours.

My two cents are this: I do understand what he did, but I think he forgot the temps are people, and if they're anything like me, rely on each weekly paycheck to get through. So I hope this is it, and next week starts off new and better.

Fingers crossed.

Pay Me!!

So, for the past couple of days, the bank has locked me out of my user account, so I really can't get any work done. I called IT, they told me that a manager has to re-allow me access. Fine. Call the manager's assistant, she of course won't answer my calls.

Flash to last night. I go to enter my time online, and Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday are blanked out, so I can't enter any time. I will be damned before I will work for free. I called my boss (my boss and my manager are not the same person), and she tells me not to worry, that we'll figure out this morning when I get to work.

Now, temping is one of the last bastions where you can be upfront and really say that it's just about the money. It's a true friends-with-benefits relationship, because I know I am an intelligent, able-bodied person that the bank is renting, and I am willing to be rented for cash. The integral part of this relationship is the cash. It's the consideration in our little contract here.

Usually on Fridays, I get to dress down and in exchange for that, I have to file. Not today! Today I'm wearing something nice and I will not lift a single file. Petty, I know. But as the body and not the bank in this relationship, it's all I got.

(Also, could the timing be worse? I am becoming (more) insane before the bar. I'm studying contracts and homicide. Dumb, dumb bank.)

Update

It's hard to figure out the difference between talking to someone and being too needy. I think this starts with me, because I've been blogging much more often and then I added Twitter. So now, I think that once something is added, I should immediately get results. Perhaps my need for attention is the reason that my relationships never turned out all that well.

Still, I can't help who I am. I want to pay attention to, and be paid attentioned to, a lot. I like to joke around, and play, and I really hope that my last message to A. made him laugh more than anything else.

I think I'm going into bar mode, which makes me jealous, and deserving, and...God, I don't know. I hope I'll get enough forgiveness.

I wonder if that my "real" friends don't read this, I'll be grateful later.

However, any of you who do (I know you do) please drop a line!

My Work Husband

D. and I have become work spouses. We cover for each other, watch out for each other. I really enjoy talking to him about his life and relationships, and he tolerates listening to my ranting, and my amazing ability to use Triple Letter Score words. (Blame my mother! She made me look up every word I didn't know and also gave me a lifelong love of reading.)

He gets my lunch for me, helps me out when I run into problems, and when I'm tired, he drives me to my car after work. Well, not so much now, because he knows I'm trying to get more exercise. He listens to me read my favorite MBE questions, the ones that start with, "Harry got intoxicated Saturday night, as was his custom..." You know no good's going to come of that. We make up stories about what will happen next, and when he's feeling really patient, he'll listen to my rationale for the answers I chose.

I'm so glad that things between us have improved so much.

So hopefully, considering all the stuff going on at the bank now, I won't lose my job. Fingers crossed.

Stalking You

Actually, no. But I do get tons of entertainment out of checking out where all my visitors come from. It's really interesting to know who reads this (oh, and don't worry, the info I get is really generic, just ISP, day, time.) Thank you all for following my crazy life.

Oh, and to all my "real-life" friends...thanks for not calling! I really appreciate the chance to get strong and brave on my own, with no support or interest.

Holy Shit.

I'm letting you know about this blog because I wish I were that brave. Maybe someday I'll feel strong enough to let you know my story. Until then, if you ever wanted to know what women really think, just read.

Oh, go to August 2. I don't know how to get all the links right. And read all the parts before you read the actual blog I'm linking you to. And if there's more, I will update.

I think every woman has a story. I remember writing about something I saw on TV, where men are afraid that women will make fun of them, and women are afraid that men will kill them. I'd really like to have that conversation with you. Because it's frightening.

How To Choke On Your Foot

When I was in law school, one of my favorite targets were the non-accredited law schools in Alabama. I referred to one of them as the Miles School of Law and Doughnuts.

Flash forward to last weekend - Mom and I were getting pedicures. At the drying station, a woman sat down and couldn't help but overhear me kvetching about the bar. (As I am very likely to be doing, any day and any night.) She said, "Oh, my husband just passed!" After some niceties, I asked her where her husband went to law school. Birmingham School of Law (and Doughnuts!) is what she told me. I then said, "Oh, and he passed?"

Seriously, could I be more condescending? I could not believe what just came out of my mouth. I apologized, and we still ended up exchanging contact details, because it'd be cool to have a group of new lawyers who all knew each other. But still!

I do, however, manage not to contact one of my exes to say, "Glad to see you still have your scatological sense of humor." Only because it just occurred to me how incredibly bitchy that would be, when I only meant to tease him.

Check me out, figuring out that some teasing is best done with your voice and not typed words!

They're Home, Where They Belong

And Bubbles is having her first run, with some bleach, just in case she was into dirty things before she came to live with me. Oh, and I don't have clamps for the dryer, so the foil thingy is attached with tape! The guy who put it together just couldn't complement my tape enough. (And no, that's not a double-entendre.)

The post 2 below is the product of self-pity, one two many drinks, and a desire to be bitter. Sorry about that. But respect the time it took! It took me 1 1/2 hours to transcribe that from the mp3 I was listening to. And because of the aforementioned drinks, I had no memory so I had to relisten like 50 times because it was direly important to get the words EXACTLY.

Thank goodness A. told me to go to bed. I can only imagine what other trouble I'd have gotten myself into last night.

As an aside, I collect songs named "Christine". (Because, R., it is all about me ME ME!!) So far I have the one by Siouxsie and the Banshees and the one by House of Love. Do any of you (both of you?) know any other songs named "Christine"? If so, please let me know, so I can make the dream CD.

The Best Pickup Line I've Ever Heard

This is what I wrote today...more later after Bubbles and Fluffy get situated.

In my continuing virtual love affair with Favorable Dicta, I came across yet another one of her posts where she’s randomly translating phrases. (Scroll down to January 18) I found there the best pickup line I’ve ever seen. Now, because I am a dork, I am totally amenable to a good line.

So, without further ado, here it is: “Fancy coming back to my place and doing the things I'll tell everyone we did anyway?” That would totally work on me. It made me laugh, and because it was also in French, it was sexy too. An accent plus a great line? Priceless.

I’m trying to remember other lines that worked on me, but since I had a tendency to hear these lines while at the club (cue music, a la the Take Some E segment on The Soup), I really don’t remember much.

In The Movie Now - Nicole Blackman

There is no glory in trying to make love to men who only know how to fuck
Man, after man, after man, after man
Raised on porn
Out all day while he's been watching two dollar videos
Now piled by the VCR
Out all day
At work, at class, at the gym
While he's been making plans
Out all day, returning with bags of bread, and tomatoes, and bluefish for what you think will be dinner

Dinner is you
And you are nothing like the dead eyed, blonde women he's been watching
You're in the movie now

He is nothing like you remember
No time for a condom, take a pill, or put in a diaphragm
Those girls never get pregnant anyway
What are you trying to do?
Clothes cannot come off fast enough get them off get them off
Shoes are always left on you don't know why
You're in the movie now

You used to scrape your nails against the walls
Leaving streaks like scars of where you wanted to stay
And where he took you
Now you just go
It'll be over in ten minutes twenty at most
A black envelope closes with you inside
You're in the movie now

He winds your hair around his fist like a roll
And keeps it nailed to the bed
You swear you'll cut your hair tomorrow you swear you'll cut your hair tomorrow
You still swim in memories sometimes
It wasn't always like this, was it?
You are becoming stone
Stone desires nothing
Stone cannot be moved
Stone can only be worn down
Little by little
Close your eyes and think of England
You are tucked in for the fucking
You're in the movie now

There is no beauty in being held face down on a bed of sheets that tear beneath you
And you are wearing him like a country you haven't the strength to carry
You're in the movie now

You don't fight he takes it from you
He takes it from you he takes it from you
Now it isn't yours how could it be
It isn't yours anymore never will be again
One eye open focusing on a window
Years of this and you don't even say anything anymore
This is how it is how it will always be
You're in the movie now

It doesn't hurt anymore
You're shut down examining fibers in the pillowcase
Counting them until he's finished
Seventy-seven, seventy-eight, seventy-nine
He says look at me look at me it's no good unless you look at me
You look right through him look at your bookshelf
Your grandmother's patio your list of things to do this weekend
The basil is drying by the window

He says if you cry it makes him angry
I fuck better when I'm angry
You know you know he says it every time
You learn not to cry

You are startled that he's doing this to you
You are startled that he knows how
You are startled that you stay
Know that you would tell a friend to kill him if he did this to her
Your mouth is on fire with possibilities
You say nothing
You shut down your body one limb at a time
Like you learned in drama class relaxation exercises
Absense of pain makes anything possible

Because you are pretty you are possessed
You too are alone
Owner and owned
You used to confuse this with caring
You used to confuse these with caresses desire doesn't live here anymore desire doesn't live here anymore
You are turned over and over
Backstrokes in your own blood
Horses have been christianed with less

There is no glory here
Only bloodstains and apologies that come with the stroking
Only throwing up in a sink
You'll have to scrub out later

Bubbles and Fluffy

I just got back from my hot first date with the machines. (Oh, and it was HOT! It's about 95 degrees here today and the machines were in the garage.) But they were so beautiful, clean, with lots of cycles and all the clasps and stuff that one apparently needs to connect the machines. I instantly named them, as you can see above, as I am wont to do with just about every machine I encounter. (My car is named Circe.)

Even better, their former friends are even delivering Bubbles and Fluffy to me and will help me install them. This really makes up for the 75% crappy day I had at work.

Oh, please, weather gods, look down on us here kindly. It is cranky hot here. Not even the fun, dirty, sticky hot that it gets. Just the kind of heat that takes your breath away.

Hypochondriac

I feel weird this morning. All through yesterday and still this morning, my legs and my hands are tingling. It happens when I lift my arms over my head, or if my legs stay in one position too long. After my shower, my legs felt like they were going to buckle. It's weird. Maybe I'm not eating enough, or maybe I'm just overreacting to normal stuff. I'm hoping it's the latter.

On the plus side, I have a hot date with some Whirlpool twins (fraternal, of course) after work. I want to see if they should come home with me. I really, really need to do some wash, especially considering the little pitch-a-bitch I did yesterday.

(Maybe it's lack of sleep?)

Reasons I Want To Punch The Alabama Bar

1. Not posting the address of the testing site. What, are there going to be signs, like there are downtown here, that say Bar, turn right? This is ridiculous. Now, when I begin to look for hotels in Montgomery, I'm already losing my preferences. This is not a time to force sweet, charming me into a non-smoking room. I also would prefer something slightly more classy than the rat hotel I stayed in in Roanoke.

2. Being in the top 5 of the most difficult bars in the country. No, it's not California, thank goodness. But still! There's no reason to feel so lofty. Can't we just be D.C., which only requires the MBE?

3. Making me find three attorneys in this state who would vouch for my character. How many lawyers do you know? How many do you know well enough to vouch for your character? That was fun.

Yup, kids, it's that time of year again. I get irrational, mean, short, and develop an even finer-tuned ability to destroy someone in 2 words. Beware, and I promise I will try to pay attention to my triggers and not hurt anyone.

And Then I Just Loved Her A Little More

As I've told you, I very much enjoy and am addicted to Will Work For Favorable Dicta. And again, she ups the ante, with her pictures of (go to October 16)... wait for it ... Rollins!! I love me some Rollins.

I even forced B. to go with me to see one of his spoken word shows, and we had a ball. Now she is also a fan.

I can make this happen for you, as well. Just give me the chance to explain the glory that is Rollins.

Just Thoughts

I often get my ideas for what to write from the Twitter-like updates I do on Facebook. Today, for those of you who are not my "friends", the update is "Christine is...better when she's brassy." I added this because I'm learning the smart, smart ass, bolder part of me tends to attract people much more than the weepy, scared, clingy part of me. Unfortunately, the sadder side tends to take precedence. I'm working harder to make me stronger, and more in control, though.

So, I got my father's day card, for my charming father. (For evidence, you can look here, or here, or here, or here.) So today, when I was talking to my sister, she asked, "What are you going to do for father's day?" Wow, that was a loaded question. If I hadn't re-read all my blogs, it might be an easy decision. But as I told my sister, I am blessed with a swiss cheese memory, so many things that happen to me can be ignored.

So, I have this card, and a few days - do I mail it or not?

Shopping

I'm now shopping for a washer and dryer. Momma fronted me some cash to do it, and has instructed me to look through the classifieds to find something suitable.

I cannot explain just how much I want my own laundry tools. I can wash anytime, in my own home? That's so amazing. I hate having to get up early to go do my laundry on Sundays. I really, really, REALLY want my own machines. I figure if they're used, I can run a load with bleach to clean the machine out.

Oh, but where to put the litter box?

An Addition

In my never-ending quest to find the best blogs out there, I found another couple:

The first is Bar Exam 2005. She no longer updates it, and is threatening to take it down, now that she's passed the bar, so go quickly to read it. It's hysterical, and somehow she manages to stay so positive about the experience.

The second is Will Work for Favorable Dicta. I found her through Bar Exam 2005. She is a woman after my own heart, and I'm still laughing from this post. (The one I'm talking about is August 13). I was at work, reading this, and I was shaking from trying not to laugh out loud, and tip anyone off that I was doing something non-work related. That's getting to be more difficult, as I usually am doing things non-work related, and I blow my cover daily.) Bonus - she still blogs!! Way high in my book.

The third, a blog where I am definitely a Johnny-come-lately, is Open and Notorious, which also is no longer updated, but just awesome anyway.

So, when you're supposed to be working, and you know there's no damn way that's gonna happen, please to enjoy!

An Open Letter to Billy Mays

Dear Billy,

I understand that you work hard to promote the (crap) products that you are expected to sell. I know you're a bigger name than I, and I can live with that, for the time being, at least. Still, I must put forth one request.

Please, for the love of that is holy, STOP YELLING!!! It's off-putting, rude, and annoying. Your and only your voice can wake me from a dead sleep, when I am then bombasted with advertisements about your products.

I don't care if they could raise the dead, or make me a high-powered attorney with a 6-figure income, I will never use your products. If, however, you can get me 7 figures, contact me. Let's talk.

Love,
Christine

I Wish...

I really wish that I had remembered that I had to shave my legs today because I'm going for a pedi tonight, before I remembered that I really wanted to sleep in. This has made this morning upside down and now I'm running...

But I saved time for you. Wouldn't want your morning to be without sunshine. Oh, and I'm a ball of sunshine this morning. I (again, still) don't want to go to work, but I really want money deposited into my account next Thursday, and as much of it as possible, so I will go to work.

Maybe we'll laugh as hard as we did yesterday.

(Congratulations to A., who's a brilliant actor!)

Drowning in Email

So to add to my list of duties as my boss' assistant, I can now access her email. My (supposed) purpose in this is to organize her emails and also to create a way for those that match her categories to go immediately into those folders. The small problem there is that we use Lotus Notes at work, a program with which I'm not familiar. I really wish we used Outlook. That, I know how to use.

But to begin this process, I am now going through each one of her over 4000 emails (oh, and that's only from January 17). By the time I left tonight, I was on February 28, and cursing the fact that this year was a leap year. I got to 11:52am, after going through 75 emails from that morning. Damn! It's not even noon!

People, please calm down on the emails. And do you really need a read or delivery receipt after EACH AND EVERY ONE??? Really? Do your favorite admin assistant a favor, and dial it down a bit. Chances are, your message is not that important.

Hello to California!! You are my most loyal readers, and I love you for it! Let me know you're out there, comment sometime. I've got thick skin. No I don't. But I'll manage.

Two Stories

I've got 2 stories for you today. The first is about downtown and my drive home. The second is about the bar. I figure that constitutes fair notice in case you don't want to have to hear about the bar. And believe me, I understand.

Lately, as I get into downtown and I leave, I've noticed that the whole area smells like a burning tire factory. I hate it! I wear a lovely perfume, but you'd never know it over the stench of whatever that is overwhelming me. It's cloying, really. It doesn't help that it feels like about 4000 degrees when I leave work. Poor lungs. Like they need more abuse.

Also, to the jerk who cut me off around the square, and then cut me off to boot, that was me yelling, "You're an asshole!!" And you are. You really are.

The bar is making me even more nervous. Knowing that this is the last full month to study is freaking me out. I learned a good mnemonic today: ORGASM. It's good for the Statute of Frauds. Let's see if I can remember all the elements:

One year
R
G
A
S
Marriage

Shit! This is why I don't really use mnemonics. I can remember them, but not what they stand for. And above is a good example of how nervous I am. I can remember the beginnings and the ends, but nothing in the middle. Is there a way to outline where everything's at the ends? Maybe it's flashcard time.

(PS - I was able to spell mnemonic on my own! And constitutes! Any word close to Constitution really throws me off.)

Random Thoughts

Here's what went through my head as I showered this morning:

1. Will someone please kill the fauxhawk? Please? It's killing me to see them every day. And I watch Top Chef, too, so I can't avoid them!!

2. I have about 12 gigs of music on this computer. I listen to maybe 150 songs. What a waste of space, but I don't throw out music.

3. I wonder how much of his own fur my cat has eaten? And where I'll find it next?

4. I'm beginning to worry about the bar. I don't want to worry; I want to study and then just get it done. Why does it have to feel so insurmountable? I know I'll be practically wetting myself come late July. Can't I postpone worrying until then?

5. It's way too freaking hot here already. I understand that I carry the curse of the weather - wherever I move, that place gets the most extreme weather that it's had in centuries. But why couldn't Alabama have a cold snap instead of mid-90s in early June?

6. Is there a way I could get paid for staying home? Because I really don't want to work today.

New Name

I'm planning to re-name this mess. Any suggestions? (And be nice, people.)

Music

On the way home tonight (like most nights) I think about how I'm going to update Facebook and add a new song. I do try to find songs that are a little obscure - if you see the list, I don't often succeed. But tonight, I thought of a song I loved when I was a teenager. It's called "Twist in My Sobriety" by Tanita Takaram. When I was younger, I thought the lyrics and the mood of the song were so powerful, but I didn't really understand what it meant.

(Aside: I really thought Little Red Corvette was about a car until I was almost 30.)

Now, when I hear the song, it makes more sense than I thought. I think you have to have your heart completely stomped to get it. Then you need to meet throngs of the wrong person for you. I'm good at both of those things.

Hopefully, this time around, it won't end that way.

Today's List

Things I love right now:

1. Music. I try to add a new song to my Facebook page every day.
2. The Vanity Fair interview with Angelina Jolie. I think she just might be the most gorgeous woman on the planet. (And Johnny Depp is the most gorgeous man.)
3. Green lights on my way home from work. Red lights on my way to work.
4. Late night, long conversations with A.
5. Knowing that this bar will be my bitch. And B.'s bitch as well.
6. Looking at the lists of people I know, and being amazed by all of them.
7. TiVo.
8. Chatting with my sister.
9. My perma-grin.
10. Knowing that Friday is only 4 days away.

Things I hate right now:

1. Not being sure of my standing with people.
2. Taking out the trash, to an outdoor dumpster, in the Alabama heat.
3. The blogs I read not being updated as much as I want.
4. Paperwork.
5. Boredom.
6. Dryers not working, so my apartment now looks like a linen closet exploded.
7. Having to end calls with A., because it means real life gets to come back in.
8. Feeling obligated to watch my shows on TiVo.
9. That my phone can only hold so many pictures, and it now wants me to get rid of some of my photos.
10. That I can't reach my great aunt on the phone.

Waiting

I'm waiting for a phone call. Yes, of course, I could be the one who calls. But this silly game of phone calls is how I manage. I'm not going to call him (eventually I will, and I will know I lose).

It seems so silly, yet, I play these games. I don't want to be too needy. Still, I have to hide those feelings from him.

Crap!! The song came on again. B., you'll totally get this.

Out Loud

I've made my choice. My life is now going to be lived out loud. I'll blog about it, I'll question my choices, but what's the point if I don't try. Tear into me, do what you want, but it will be what it is. Definitely not always interesting. But it will be what it is.

(I may regret this. But is that any better than the pieces of regret I already carry?)

Thank Goodness!!

Thank goodness for my friend M., who can make me laugh even when I'm about to cry. This morning, far too early, the cat decided it was time I was awake. Today's plan of choice was playing with a plastic bag. Now, I didn't get to bed until after 2:30 (thank you, A.!), and I was not at all prepared to be awake at 8:30. I was kinda cranky. Furious, in fact. So, I got up and dragged myself over to the laundry area.

(Note: Remember that the upstairs neighbors using their in-suite washer and dryer is NOT, in fact, a cruel joke meant to upset me.)

So I get there, see the updates that have been done, like new paint, more machines not working, tile floor not actually lifting up from the water underneath. What I notice most is that more machines aren't working. What I next realize, as I start the machines, is that someone left their clothes in the machine, which is now filling with my water. Crap!! I burned my hands pulling the clothes out. I now know I'm going to have a confrontation with the owner of said clothes.

This is not good. I am not confrontational. But, damn it, stay with your shit, get it done and out of the machines. I don't care about your stuff, these are public machines, and really, it takes about 1 1/2 hours to do your laundry. Stay with it.

So I off-loaded her stuff, and when she came in and complained, I passively said nothing. And luckily, I didn't get pummeled. Not even when I unloaded her dryer so I could get done.

It's petty, it's apartment life. But I really, really, really want my own machines. (Oh, and A., too.)