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Sunday, January 30, 2011

Fun times with grammar

A conversation at a party.  I have just run into a boy I know.

Me: Hey!  How are you doing?

Boy: Good.  (Holds up his beer.)  Really good, actually.

Me: Yeah, I was wondering about that.  What happened to being a good Mormon guy, mister?

Boy: Who told you I was that?

Me: (laughing) You did, those were your exact words!  "I'm a good Mormon guy."  I never asked, you offered that information.  

Boy:  Oh yeah. I meant I'm a good guy and a Mormon. Not a good Mormon. Good was modifying guy.

Me:  So I heard "good Mormon guy," but you meant, "good-comma-Mormon-guy."

Boy: Exactly.

Me: We'll, I've learned a valuable lesson about punctuation today.

Boy: Let's toast!

Me: To what?

Boy: To punctuation!

Friday, January 28, 2011

Your daily dose of intellectual nonsense

Setting: British Pub 

Conversation Topic: Professional Sports -

Person 1: I just don't enjoy them.

Person 2: You don't get the rules?

Person 1: No, I get the rules.

Person 2: It's boring?

Person 1: No, it's not that.

Person 2: What is it?

Person 1: I just think the athletes are paid too much.

Person 2: ... Well, probably.  But ...

Person 1: Like, when you look at ancient Rome, one of the commonalities between their society right before its downfall and ours is that the people were more concerned about entertainment than anything. 

Person 2: ...

Person 3: (internally) ... Someone just finished The Hunger Games ...

Person 4: (internally) ... I knew LeBron going to Miami was a sign of the apocalypse.

Person 5: (stares at burger).

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Be a grown up

There's this new thing I'm trying lately - whenever I have a thought, I ask myself, "What would a grown-up in this situation do?"

Like today, I didn't want to call a client.  Why?  I thought he might be grumpy.

Self: Does a grown-up avoid calling someone just because he might be grumpy?

Self:  Sigh.  No.

Self: I think we know what we need to do here.

Self:  Sigh.  Yeah.

And so we called the client.

Really, it's done wonders for me so far.

(Aside from the fact that I now internally refer to myself as "we.")

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Holy Hannah

Hula Buns, over at The Binderclips and Hula Buns Chronicles nominated me for a Stylish Blogger Award.  I am pretty delighted with this, since Hula Buns is awesome (as evidenced by her amusing stories, and the fact that she and Binderclips were moving 500+ miles at the same time I was moving 500+ miles, which is just instafriendship right there) and because somehow I am considered "stylish" without ever once posting a picture of my shoes, sassy headband-hat or "vintage" (meaning "vintage-looking") skirt.

(Wait!  There's still time!  Should I run to my closet and try to find some clothes I can take pictures of?
Nah.  I think it's more of a metaphorically Stylish Blogger, in my case.)

There are 4 duties to perform to receive this award:

  • Thank and link back to the person who awarded you the award.  (Done and done.)
  • Share seven things about yourself.  (See below.)
  • Award 15 recently discovered great bloggers.  (Will do.)
  • Contact these bloggers and tell them about the award.  (Ehh ...)

I am extremely unlikely to actually win this award, since I won't actually contact these people to let them know I am nominating them and that is one of the requirements.  But since I have a long-standing opposition to contests in all shapes and forms (seriously), I am ok with that.

But here are the seven things about me:

1. I have a serious phobia of injury to little body parts.  Fingers, toes, teeth and ears are pretty much the top of the list.  I would rather be stabbed in the leg than break a pinky.  (If you share this phobia, do not go see Black Swan, no matter how many people gush to you about Natalie Portman.)  Whenever I go up or down stairs, I make sure I am holding onto a railing or another person, and I have a long-standing aversion to curbs (thank you, American History X) because even though I am not particularly prone to tripping, I think that would probably be the place where I'd do it.

2. For the same reasons listed above, I often stop to change into more sensible shoes when I leave my house in the mornings because if I am ever hit by a car, I would rather be wearing sneakers than flip flops when it happens.  Also, I am kinda-seriously-concerned about a potential zombie apocalypse, and sneakers are obviously better for running away from situations.

And yet I still don't have any food storage.

3. Ditto all the above?  I am not a gun fan.  I am not scared of guns and I don't dislike guns.  I grew up around guns and I feel OK about them.  I just don't think they will ever be particularly useful to me since I don't hunt, and if I ever were in a life-or-death situation, I think I would be happier wielding pepper spray, eye-gouging with car keys, or just plain hiding/running away.  (My aunt has also suggested that my dog search be expanded to cover the pit bull breed, since even though I live in an extremely gentrified section of New Denver, it's a scary world for people with lady parts.)  (I am actually not scared of that at all.)  The likelihood of something going wrong with pepper spray or car keys is just so much lower than with a gun.  (Pit bulls?  Maybe higher.)

EXCEPT when I think about the potential zombie apocalypse.  And then I kind of want a gun.

4. Medical situations in movies freak the hell out of me, particularly if they are old-timey.  Nineteenth century lobotomies are so much scarier than guys with chainsaws.  Don't get me started on the boob-ectomy in John Adams.  

5. I do not like ice in my drinks.  At all.

6. I am a lawyer girl,  but like many lawyer girls, I would rather be a writer girl.  Or at least a lawyer-writer-girl.  With a CTS Coupe.  (What?  I don't want to be a poor lawyer-writer-girl.)  (Yes, I know the CTS-V is the "better" model.  I have my reasons.)

7. My biggest fear is working at WalMart when I am old.  Combine that with the fact that I don't believe Social Security will last past my 35th birthday, and you have all the reasons why I am an obsessive saver now.  

And now, some new* fun blogs for you and me!

Law and the Multiverse:
Nerds apply real legal situations to comic books.  I really like the posts about the tort liability of minors with super powers, super hero privacy rights, and what "cruel and unusual punishment" means when you're dealing with someone who is immortal.  (Go ahead.  Judge me.)

Kiersten Writes:
Kiersten White is the author of Paranormalcy, which was the bomb.com, and her blog is full of sassy and helpful advice for potential writers.

A Hick in California:
My cousin Kate's blog, which would still be amazing if it only consisted of the Michael Keaton in her coffee shop story.  Echo and I told that story at a party two nights ago, matter-o-fact.

Kris and Rex:
This time, I'm linking directly to a blog post just because it's so great - I didn't know there was an Engineer Barbie, did you?  Thanks, Kris.

Bitter Lawyer:
My first week at my old firm, my secretary sent me the link to Bitter Lawyer.

That really says it all.

A.E.Jones:
Normally it bugs me when blogs are all BAM!  DESIGN!  But this blog is really cute without making me want to vomit up puppies and rainbows.  Also she works at my old place of employ, and you gotta represent.

Hrrrm, number 7 ... how to pick my last spot?  Basically, you see the blogs over there? ----------------------->  And a little up?  (OK, a LOT up, sorry this post was so long.)  Yes, right there.  ALL of those blogs are fun to read.  That's why I put them there.)




* New is being used really loosely in this sense, because most of these have been a part of my world for awhile now.  I am just sharing some fun things I like to read when I am wasting time in InternetLand.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Stats

I'm kind of obsessed with the stats function on blogger.  Not because I'm super vain (I totally am) but because I love seeing what google search terms people are using to find little old Lawyer Girl here.

Usually it's standard stuff - a lot of people search for the Fantastic Mr. Fox quote about being lab partners.  Some people search for why Sex and the City sucks.  Some people search for "and then she was like blah," which I can only assume are my relatives who don't know how bookmarks work.  (Hi Mom!)

Today I logged in and found out that I got two hits from the following google:

mormon houses smell like combination dooce

Huh.

The real dilemma is now I'm torn between trying to use all those words less, or trying to use them a WHOLE LOT MORE so I can become the number one result hit for "mormon houses smell like combination dooce."  Which will probably be hard, since Dooce itself most likely holds that record.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

In defense of tardiness

I have this voice in my head that says, "Be nice to everyone."

Given my natural instincts toward meanness, this can lead to some inner-turmoil.  Mostly silent inner turmoil.

The turmoil is generally biggest at church.

Two Sundays ago I made the catastrophic mistake of being on time to Sunday School.  Why is that a problem, you ask?  Well, when you're in a singles ward full of wackadoodles, if you're on time, that means anyone--ANYONE--can plunk down next to you. 

The ideal tactic is to show up late, which is rude, but provides you the opportunity to scan the room, identify the open seat with the least proximity to the girl who brings sugar gliders in a bag to church*, and take it.

Unfortunately this was my last Sunday, and my friend the Sunday School teacher's last Sunday, so I had promised I'd be on time.

Within thirty seconds, I was surrounded.  On one side, the guy who was muttering Really Deep Thoughts to himself, and on the other, I had the guy who was making really lame jokes that even people at church weren't laughing at.  (And believe me ... Mormons will laugh at anything if it's said at church.)

The Sunday School teacher had brought cookies for everyone (Grasshoppers, since the lesson was on John the Baptist, which is pretty clever) and the Jokester (who had taken a stack of cookies so large he could barely clutch them between his thumb and pinkie) offered me one of his.  "Want a Thin Mint?" he asked, holding one of his 18 cookies out to me on his sweaty paw. 

I wanted to do so many things.  I wanted to correct him--Thin Mints are from the Girl Scouts, these are Keebler knockoffs.  I wanted to be mean--Did you not realize there a like a billion other people in this ward before you took 18 cookies?  I wanted to be disgusted--No, I don't want a cookie that you've held in your bare hand, did your mother not teach you any manners?  I wanted to point out the obvious--Can't you see I'm already holding one?  One, as in how many you should have taken?

And there was the voice chirping away--"Be nice to everyone!"  It sounds a little like a talking Barbie.

So I just smiled awkwardly and and shook my head.

Here's the thing, with my apologies to better Christians than me everywhere.  You can't be nice to everyone.  I have learned this the hard way, over and over again.  You can be nice to sad people or mean people or bitter people or angry people, but when you are nice to WEIRD people, you aren't actually being nice to them.  You are enabling their weirdness. 

Is it nice to buy an alcoholic a drink?  Only in the most twisted sense.

So when you meet a 30-something year old man who takes all the cookies and repeatedly makes jokes that no one is laughing at, you know it's because no one has ever been appropriately mean to him.  He has gained a false sense of normalcy despite his overwhelming oddness.  Who did he sit by, given the chance?  Not Sugar Glider Girl.  Not Pioneer Skirt.  Not Miss Dungeons and Dragons or Has-A-Copy-Of-Twilight-in-Her-Scripture-Tote.  (Yes, they were all there, and might have appreciated the proffered "Thin Mint.")

He sat next to me, Miss Relatively Normal with no pets on my lap, no floor length skirt, no raccoonish makeup, no copy of Twilight with a broken spine from re-reading the kissing scene.  He seeks out a normal girl every week, and then that unlucky girl has to sit there smiling awkwardly, enabling his weirdness as he talks about magic.  Because we all have chirpy voices in our heads saying, "Be nice!", we have unwittingly created someone for whom normal is now out of his league.

So no, I did not take his cookie, but nor could I bring myself to tell him it was uncool to have taken so many.  I just smiled awkwardly like I have every time I have encountered the Jokester, and told myself this was nice enough.

And on my other side, the Mutterer.

Everyone has that moment when they've been talking and suddenly realize no one is listening.  But regular people just smile awkwardly and shut up.  Weirdos get confrontational.  "Well, I guess I'll just stop talking since no one is listening," the Mutterer muttered bitterly every time I failed to respond to one of his deep spiritual thoughts, witty bon mots or criticisms of various LDS leaders.**

In any other context I would have looked him in the eye and said, "If no one is listening, then you should shut the hell up."  But it's church, so ... Be nice to everyone!

And there I sat, my eyes glued to the board for forty minutes.  If I looked even the tiniest bit in the direction of the Jokester, he held up a sweaty cookie with a depressingly hopeful look .  If I look towards the Mutterer, he gets encouraged about his muttering and goes into overdrive.  The Sunday School teacher, who clearly saw my predicament, just smirked at me.

Anyway.

My point is, now I've learned my lesson.  It's too tough to rebel against 26 years of social training to be nice.  I'm just going to go with being late all the time.






* She is a nice girl and they seem like nice pets, but I had to sit next to her once and I nearly passed out from the smell emanating from their ventilated bag.  Can you get up and change seats in the middle of a Sunday School lesson?  No, you cannot, no matter how sensitive your gag reflex is.  I love animals, but they do not belong at church. 

Feel free to judge me now.  Unlike many things on this blog, I stand by that opinion.


** I feel I have to throw out a caveat, since I have done my fair share of complaining about LDS church leaders, past and present.  It is A-OK in my book to have a respectful conversation about concerns, criticisms, curiosities, etc. about church if you're in an appropriate setting.

Church itself is almost certainly not an appropriate setting for certain comments, and here is why.  If you have a problem with something, sure, there are probably other people there who have the same problem.  But there are also people there who DON'T have a problem, and you have just made them very uncomfortable in a place they expected to feel comfortable.  (Is church sometimes supposed to make you uncomfortable?  Yeah yeah yeah ...)  Because of the "Be nice to everyone!" voices, no one likes to pipe up to confront possible hijacker of a Sunday School lesson, so your weird comment just hangs there in the universe, un-responded to.

So save it for a time and place where you won't have to get pissed off that no one commented about your pissed off comment, buddy.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Hey internet friends!

Sorry I've been AWOL - the move from Fake Austin to New Denver (yeah, I'm going with that) was bananas.

But I just wanted to stop by, leave a note, and let you all know that I have the greatest respect for those of you who put up with me in real life, and let you know that if you've never met me, you are a lucky soul.

Because after recording three new voice messages on my new work phone, I've decided that I officially sound like a chipmunk. 

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Ugh

Can medical shows please stop doing the cliched "She's DNR, let her go down!"/"No, people, push another epi!  Stay  with me, Bill!" scene.

Such a time waster. 

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Like the fact that I'm shallow is coming as a shock to any of you


I love this song.

Unfortunately, the guy's hats (yes, both of them ... wait for the ending) ruin the video for me.  I know country is always trying to move away from the Stetson stereotype, but that's no reason to go the tool route. 

The fact that he's also wearing two necklaces and a leather bracelet on each wrist is just icing on the cake.  It's taking me back (taking me back) to my junior high obsession with Creed. 

(What?  Don't act like you were too cool for Creed.)

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Yay for Mr. Woodhouse!

I was at pub trivia awhile back (we totally came in first, fyi) and I made a joke about a friend becoming a stay-at-home-father.  No less than three people (two guys and a girl) pulled a face.

And it occurred to me that I would never want to be with someone who wouldn't consider being a stay-at-home-father.

Now, I'm not saying he would HAVE to, or even that he would have some PREFERENCE to.  I'm just saying that the option would have to be on the table, and there's a very simple reason why.

It's not a matter of "fairness."  I do not anticipate a relationship where every five years my hubster and I swap the unenviable task of raising our brats and/or slaving away for the man just to maintain equality. Hopefully we'll be the kind of people who like both our spawn and being productive members of society.

It's a matter of basic competence.

Here's the dealio--at the age of 26, I know myself well enough to know that I could be a working mom, stay-at-home-mom, sole breadwinner, or any combination of the above.  I also know I will probably change my mind a half dozen times over my lifetime about which one of those roles I would like to fill.

Note that I said I COULD be those things.  Granted, as someone has never done any of them, I don't know which ones I would like or which ones I would be best at.  (Sure, I currently support myself, but I don't think you can call yourself a "sole breadwinner" unless there's someone else at home eating your toast.) 

When I was a kid, I heard from a plethora of adults that I needed to get a good education "in case."  The implication, of course, was that I should have a good job because I might ever land a man, wind up divorced or widowed, find myself in a situation where my husband was incapacitated or where one income was just no longer going to cut it.  (I would personally like to add, "Because an adult should be capable of supporting themselves without assistance from anyone else," but that's too big of a tangent to elaborate right now.) 

The problem is that boys don't tend to get that advice.  Boys are rarely told they should babysit the neighbor's kids for practice or take a child development course "just in case."  If boys are taught to cook and clean and iron, it's not "just in case."  It's because grown ups know how to cook and clean and iron regardless of gender.

In many cases, mere willingness to do something makes up 75% of your ability to actually do it.  When you contemplate a future where you are a primary caregiver or a sole breadwinner (or anything in between), then you naturally do the things you have to to make these possibilities realities--even if it is merely mental preparation.  (Thanks, Coach Lombardi.)

In general, girls are told to be capable of everything*; boys are told to be capable of some things.  The problem is, at some point we all should grow up and realize we should all be capable of everything. 

And if a guy told me he would never even consider being a stay-at-home-father, all I would be able to think about is this:

"So if you lost your job, I could go to work, but you would not do as good a job as I would staying at home.  If we both had to work, I would get home every day and start a second job because you would only be pulling your weight financially.  If we got divorced, I would have to support myself and still do the majority of the parenting alone.  And if I died, you'd ship our kids off to distant relatives like a damn Jane Austen character.  In short, I am capable of doing anything for the people I love -- you are capable of being a dentist.**  Why the hell would I sign up for this, again?"  

In the end, it's not a matter of who actually would or would not be at home with little Lola and Dempsey.  It's a matter of who could be, and the answer better be "both of us." 




* I don't want to start a "have it all" war.  I'm not saying that is possible to have it all.  I am similarly not saying it is impossible to have it all.

I am saying that it "all" needs to be within the realm of possibility.  You don't have to be the best of anything, but you need to be able to attempt anything and fog a mirror at the same time. 


** I have nothing against dentists.  It's just that I read a wedding announcement the other day where the groom was majoring in "pre-dentristy." 

Kiddo, that's not a major.  That's an announcement of your intention to someday be rich.  Pick a major, or just say what you mean: "The groom aspires to unrealistic levels of financial success."***


*** "Unrealistic" in that anyone who thinks "pre-dentristy" is a major probably will not hack it in dental school.  Yup, I'm an intellectual snob like that. 





(And total sidenote?  Strangely enough, this refusal to consider the SAHD life possibility only irritates me when it comes from men who take it for granted that someday they will have children.  If a guy who didn't wants kids at all -- or was unsure about it -- expressed this attitude, I would be more-or-less ok with it.  But a man who knows he wants kids, but at the same time is unwilling to consider he might just have to do ANYTHING for them, strikes me as a bad bet.)

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Well done, self

Recent conversation:

Boy: I moved here to just kind of get away from it all for awhile.

Me: (thinking this sounds questionable) Oh yeah?  What were you up to [in your former state of residence]?

Boy: Well, I had a restaurant and then I was diagnosed with cancer.  Now I'm in remission and I sold the restaurant, and I'm just looking to do nothing for a little while.

Me: (feeling quite guilty) Oh wow, congratulations.  (Congratulations, Ru?  Really?)  Do you mind me asking what kind of cancer it was?

Boy: Nah, no big deal.  It was testicular, so I lost a nut in the deal.  But you know what they say, you can still fly a plane with one propeller. 

Me: For sure.  (Pause.)  Wait, can you?

Boy: What?

Me: Fly a plane with one propeller?  Like, literally, not figuratively.

Boy: Oh. Yeah, pretty sure.

Monday, January 10, 2011

"Vintage"

I'm just throwing this out there.

I don't think this word means what a lot of you people out in InternetLand seem to think it means.

And for the record, if I see hardwood floors or plumbing described as "vintage" one more time, I will SCREAM.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Vaya con Dios

For whatever reason, deciding between my new job and my current job was really tough for me.  For a week, I agonized over a decision that presumably shouldn't have been a tough call.

But since then, a thousand little things have happened that have made me sure that I was right.

I found a new apartment in the blink of an eye.

My landlord let me out of my current lease without any fuss.

Everyone I have told at my current job congratulated me.

And today at church, the new Relief Society first counselor called me out in the hall to unceremoniously kick me out of my ward. 

I don't know what annoyed me most about that.  The fact that she asked, "Are you Ru?" even though we've had at least three conversations, including one where I was her visiting teacher.  The fact that she deprived me of my "I'm leaving, bitches!" moment.  The fact that after she said somewhat-callously, "You're not in our ward anymore" and I told her I was moving anyway, she got really sweet and asked, "Oh, do you need any help?"

No ma'am.  No, I don't. 

On the plus side, this is going to make it really easy to play the church-records shuffle in my new town.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Go to the mattresses

The next time you watch a show on MTV (...  pause while you pretend you don't watch MTV ...) take note of how many characters (I know they're technically "people," but I prefer characters) spend an inordinate amount of time in bed.

Then, once you've noticed this phenomenon, I want you to look closer.

Does the mattress that the character is wallowing on have a fitted sheet?

I am convinced that for some reason, MTV is opposed to fitted sheets.  Whether it's The Real World, Teen Mom or Jersey Shore, I see characters on MTV ALL THE TIME just lying about on a bare mattress.  I once saw a baby bouncing on a bare mattress near a window.  (Yup, it was Amber's primo parenting making that moment possible.) 

I know that the point of reality TV is to make a program with as little money as possible, but really. 

It's a fitted sheet, folks.  It's not an optional houseware, like a Kitchenaid mixer or an ottoman.  (For some reason the kids on Jersey Shore seem to have plenty of ottomans, but I can't count the number of times I've seen someone "laying"* on a bare mattress.) 

You want your MTV?  I want to know that something can be LAUNDERED after The Situation has brought a fair maiden back to community hook up room.



* I know that they're not always just "laying" on the mattress, but this is a child-friendly blog, folks.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

BLAMMO!

My apologies to my four male readers.

Let's talk about headbands for a minute, shall we?

I am a fan of the headband.  Not ashamed.

But what is the DEAL with some of them?  Who is putting giant flowers, Eiffel Towers and octupi on their heads?

I like this one because it's saying what we're all thinking.

Now, this attitude may stem from the fact that at my work (current and even more so in the future) I am headband-limited.  Headbands certainly aren't banned, but it would be a big stretch to say they were encouraged.  Maybe I just have headband envy.  (I certainly have tinsel extension envy.  Damn, I want some sparkly extensions ...) 

But I just think we may be reaching a critical mass level on the headband front.  Not the amount of people wearing headbands, although that is getting bananas.  But the things we're seeing ON the headbands and the SIZE of the headbands -- yikes.  At these rates, soon the hipster girls will be wearing ironic burkas and the rest will just go out and buy what they've been itching to wear this entire time: tiaras. 


(In my opinion, this is more of a going-to-Costco-on-a-Saturday tiara.)

Oh beautiful apartment

I know I should not love inanimate objects, but I sure do love you.

Thanks for keeping a roof over my head.



PS - Yes, I know that is a Christmas tree.  According to Catholicism and Orthodox strains of Christianity, I can leave it up through today.  And according to laziness, I can leave it up until I pack up the whole place, so there. 

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Burst bubbles

My dad and I were watching Suspicion the other day -- it's an Alfred Hitchcock film about a woman who comes to suspect that her husband is trying to murder her.  Spoiler alert (for a movie that's in black-and-white ...): He's actually trying to think of ways to kill himself to avoid crushing debt and social humiliation.  They hug.  Music swells.  Roll credits.

My dad turned to me and said, "How long do you think Lena and Johnnie last?"

No hesitation.  "Six months."

Look, I get it.  They love each other.  But at some point in their relationship, she thought he was trying to MURDER her.  And he's a profligate gambler.  They're on the train to Divorce Town with a brief layover in Second Honeymoon Land.

Which got me thinking about a few other classic movie couples ...

Little Mermaid
Status: Divorced
Reasoning: "I'm sixteen, I'm not a child!"  Also, he fell in love with her when she couldn't talk.

Beauty and the Beast
Status: Still married, but in counseling
Reasoning: They did discover inner-beauty in each other, after all.  But as my friend Diego pointed out, there was a bit of domestic violence at the beginning of that relationship.

Mulan
Status: Don't make it past third date
Reasoning: Chang is unable to resolve the inherent homoeroticism in wooing someone he once thought was a man.

Snow White
Status: Unhappily married
Reasoning:  He's closeted gay, duh.  And she sings to forest creatures -- not exactly the kind of girl able to embrace the truth.

Aladdin
Status: Still married
Reasoning: Sure, there was some lying, but it was fairly swiftly resolved.  But at least Jasmine was of legal drinking age when they got engaged and Aladdin has displayed some kind of work ethic.  That can make up for a lot of things.

Bridget Jones' Diary
Status: Happily married
Reasoning: They clicked.  They found each others' flaws endearing.  They're legitimately interesting people.

Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason
Status: Bitterly divorced
Reasoning: They didn't click.  Their flaws led to a series of misunderstandings that would never happen in real life.  She's legitimately neurotic and irritating.  He's legitimately nauseating for putting up with that. 

Sixteen Candles
Status: Broken up by prom
Reasoning: Pretty sure he advocated date rape of his current girlfriend at one point.

You've Got Mail
Status: Never make it to the altar
Reasoning: He's charming, she's a nose-crinkler.

The Wedding Singer
Status: Happily married
Reasoning: They were always sweet to each other.  Kind people whose relationships aren't based on absurd and cruel premises (cough, How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days, cough) generally make it.

Pretty Woman
Status: So divorced
Reasoning: Everything








Any I missed?

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

The job sitch-a-ation

First of all, I'm still going to be a lawyer.  I just got an opportunity to practice a different kind of law and learn a different set of skills.  That's not to say it was an easy decision.  To be super eloquent, it sucked hardcore trying to decide between the two jobs, but I ultimately think the new position will make me more marketable and will allow me to have a more well-rounded (the professional euphemism for "happy") life. 

Everyone who listened to my near-constant wishy-washying, muchas gracias.  

Regarding how this will impact my blog (duh, that's what's really important) is that I will talk even less about the new job than I did about the old one.  This is not too bueno since I got a decent amount of material out of my lawyerin adventures.  Guess I'll just have to work on being interesting in other areas of life. 

The minor plus side is that I will probably get around to telling my Big Law horror stories.  (Yes, my current job is mostly great, but it's still a law firm.  Of course some bad-- and more importantly, funny -- shit went down.) 

What inappropriate books did you read as a kid?

My number one is definitely Flowers in the Attic.  Not only was the subject matter totally awful, but so was the writing.

And yes, I read the entire series.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Things I loved about my job

1. The day our 13-month doc review ended (I participated in 11 of those months), Sam brought in a cake decorated with our client's corporate logo and played "The Final Countdown" on his iPhone.

2. The day of the Great Meltdown 2010, Karen took me to lunch and let me bitch about my life for an hour and a half.

3. The day we put on our Big Pro Bono Project, Sam, Karen, Molly, Evan and I spent all day emailing each other jokes about someone from a different firm who had put herself in charge.  (Perhaps more about that one someday.)

4. Shopping with Molly and Karen for Sub for Santa.

5. Writing a section of a reply brief to support a motion for summary judgment.  When my partner had to argue that section before the court, she looked at the judge and said, "We're going to rest on our briefing."  And we totally won.

6. Spending my time in the doc review room, listening to Christmas music starting December 1.

7.  The day that Carl ruined Karen's Pandora playlist by secretly adding Insane Clown Posse as a "bands like this" option to her John Mayer station.

8.  Arguing about the emails we were reading with my fellow doc reviewers--not especially the ones that built our case, but the personal ones our client's employees would send out on their work accounts.

9. That Carl got Sam a can of Four Loko for Christmas.  Sam said he felt like Ralphie on a Christmas Story

10. Then when I got back to work after my vacation, I found a can of Four Loko on my desk as well.  Turns out Carl was able to procure at least three cans of banned alcoholic energy drink for me, Sam and Karen.  (Tagline: Blackout in a can!!) A true Christmas miracle.

11. Dog Fort comics.  The Oatmeal.  Hyperbole and a Half.  Thanks for the head's up, coworkers.

12. Tuesday lunches.

13. The practice group I was assigned to.  On my first day, I sent my law school friends a panicked text saying, "I've been assigned to XXXX!"  It turns out that was the best thing about my job.

14. When the managing partner forgot about me and Sam at the firm Christmas party, and Karen immediately turned to us and said, "You guys got screwed!"  Trust me, it was funny.

15. Complaining about church with Molly. Discussing shoes with Molly and Karen.  Complaining about hipsters with Sam and Carl.

16. Playing "Dead or Not Dead?" One day in the doc review room, we were discussing the Queen Mum and trying to figure out how old she was at this point. Five of us were convinced she had to be at least 110 before someone googled it and found out she died in 2002. This led to a glorious game where we'd name someone and try to guess whether they were still alive. (Mr. Belvedere, if you were wondering, is dead.)

17. Basically, any discussion that occurred down in the doc review room.

18. Designing "Let's soak 'em for Crutchy!" t-shirts in honor of Newsies.  Also, debating the many merits of Newsies.  (That they aren't self-evident is still kind of shocking to me.)

19.  All the great people I worked with.

20.  The fact that my supervising partner gave me a hug when I quit today.

I think a job is a bit like a childhood.  If it was mostly happy, then you'll only remember the happy parts when it's over. 

Sunday, January 2, 2011

And my love of The Bachelor comes full circle

Little known fact about me: The very first season of The Bachelor that I watched was the Bachelor Brad season.   You know, the guy who enraged millions by not proposing to anyone at the end of the show?  (Because it's just unfathomable that maybe he realized he didn't love either one of them ...) 

The guy who set off the now infamous DeAnna-Jason-Jillian-Jake-Ali* chain of reality TV incestuosity and indirectly contributed to a win by Melissa Something on Dancing With the Stars

The guy who is back for a second go-round TOMORROW?

There's so much to love about this.

1. The fact that Brad claims he has gone through some "intense therapy" to resolve his commitment issues.  (Brad, see above where I pointed out your decision was completely reasonable, if a little douchily executed?  No therapy needed.)

2. The fact that Brad is 38, and all but two of his 25 potential love matches are in their early- to mid-twenties.  I thought you wanted to make it work this time, buddy.

(Tangent!) I have to say, as someone who is 26, I would be a smidge skeeved out by a 38 year old hitting on me.  Even a 38 year old who looks like Bachelor Brad.**  And to be clear, someone who looks like Bachelor Brad would not be hitting on me, since I am not that hot.  (And I'm ok with it, because fortunately I've got big boobs and nice hair, and that combination can be mistaken for hot if you play your cards right.)  But I maintain--hearing the words "I can remember the Carter years" is just a little wacky to someone who can barely remember the Bush I years. 

3. The fact that the commercials feature Brad getting slapped, Brad carrying someone out of a burning building, and Brad hugging someone with a voice over saying, "I just can't love him back."  (Which, as anyone who has watched more than one season of The Bachelor can attest, almost certainly will not actually happen on this season of The Bachelor.) 

4. The return of Chris Harrison to my TV and Entertainment Weekly reading.  Oh Chris.  You're so sincere.  And so naive.  I wish I could consult you before all my big decisions too, even if you are only 2:20 thus far.***




* Am I the only one who forgets about British Bachelor ALL THE TIME just because he wasn't dumped by Brad, or dumped by someone who was dumped by Brad, or dumped by somebody who was dumped by somebody who was dumped by Brad, ad nauseum ad infinitem?


** I've heard the claims that he's not  hot, and I wonder if these are people who just ended a long-term relationship with Javier Bardem or something.  Seriously?  The man is conclusively hot, as evidenced by the fact that ABC chose him TWICE to headline one of their major franchises.  The people have spoken.


*** To get to 2, I'm giving a half point to Jason-Molly, since he did dump the girl he picked only to pick his runner-up within a reasonable amount of time, and a half point to Ali-Roberto, since they haven't broken up yet.  Let's cross our fingers for Ali and Roberto, people!

Saturday, January 1, 2011

What I've learned: 2010 edition

1. The most well-thought-out decision may turn out to have unexpected downsides.

2. Even when one area of your life is a bit of a disaster, it can still be shockingly difficult to make the decision you know will improve that situation.

3. How we see ourselves is generally more important than who we really are.  When someone self-identifies with Dr. House, it doesn't really matter that you think of him as the Phil Dunphy-type.  It doesn't even matter that you may be right.  Given the opportunity to behave like Dr. House, he will.

4. Speaking of doctors, having one you actually trust is a phenomenal experience.

5. Living alone is all it is cracked up to be ... and more.

6. Mini-adventures (Bryce Canyon and Zions) and Mega-adventures (Destination Wedding and NYC) help make life sassy.

7. Remember on Arrested Development, whenever Michael would make a decision that finally got him away from his pathologically over-involved family, a choir would sing, "Free!  Free at last!"  And then Michael would inevitably return to the people who treated him so badly?

We could all die at any second.

(Pause.)

Good, you made it.  Now don't you want your whole life to sound like a chorus of, "Free!  Free at last!"?

(This point is not about my family, fyi.)

8. This--RIGHT NOW--is the hottest you will be for at least the next 48 hours, and potentially forever.  Dress accordingly.

9. A Blackberry is both a blessing and a curse.

10. When I was a kid, people would often tell me that success wasn't everything, that personal relationships are the most important thing in this life, and I believe that is true with all my heart.

But after being dumped for a welfare mom, I must say add this caveat: I may die alone, but at least I'll have money, bitches.  Lots and lots of money.

11. Wanting to get tickets to Saturday Night Live is in no way a lame life goal to have.

12.  At the end of the day, you bring your most humiliating experiences on yourself.  Just own it.


Stats for the year:
401(k)s opened: 1

New books written: 0

New books started: 2

Boys dated: 6
(Fun fact: The boy who informed me he was an ex-felon on our first date was not the boy who dumped me for the welfare mom.)

Student loans paid off: ALL (Bwahahahahaha!)

Couches purchased: 2

Callings released from: 1 (Yay!)

Movies seen in theaters: 6

Existential crises: 3

Bars passed: 1

Docs reviewed: Let's not even talk about it.