I know

There's a bulletin board at my church for the primary leaders to display scriptures, photos, pictures, and other scrapbook adorability for the kids in the other ward.  Currently, the theme is "I KNOW."  There's a picture of each kid with the words "I know" above his or her head, and below there is a quick sentence the kid wrote, bearing his or her testimony.

I might cynically put "quick sentence the kid SUPPOSEDLY wrote," because anyone who has visited a Mormon family ward has seen the phenomenon of kids bearing "their" testimonies.

But in this case, I'm fairly certain the kids did come up with their sentences.  How do I know this?

Well, because amidst all the "Jesus loves me" and "My family can be together forever" and "Heavenly Father is happy when I keep the commandments" there were these two gems:

From the budding little scientist:

And from the kid who is probably exactly like the daughter I'll have someday:

                                       

Yeah you do, sweetie.  Yeah, you do.

The rest of the story

OK, I know the last post was unnecessarily cryptic.  My reasons were twofold: one, I'm naturally dramatic.  Two, I didn't want an internet trail to lead back to me.

But with 24 hours of perspective, I've realized that's a bit silly.  So here's what happened:

First (short, pithy, slightly exaggerated) Version: I am currently undergoing a background check in order to become a real grown up lawyer.   An extensive background check.  They tell you these investigators will dig up everything (I'm so sorry about all those contact highs in college, but honestly, what was I supposed to do about the tokers across the hall in the dorms?), though you never imagine that a missing library book might pose a problem.

The Second (longer, but more realistic) Version: During law school, I was on a journal.  In the course of doing copywork (guh) I had to check out a book from the Marriott Library.  Someone else was in charge of returning it when we were done cite-checking an article.  Apparently that person never did their job.

So when the Supreme Court of Texas called the University of Utah to verify my graduation from law school, they refused to confirm or deny due to a $70 fine on my records.

The best part of this story is that the Registrar's Office didn't contact me about this snaffu until the SECOND time the Supreme Court of Texas requested the records.  Who even knows when they requested them the first time.  In the meantime, I look like someone who may or may not have flunked out of law school.

The next best part of this story is that I've already been waiting awhile for this part of the process to get over.  In Texas (in contrast to Utah), character and fitness comes second, so I didn't bother filling out the forms until after I knew I'd passed the bar.  (What?  I didn't want to waste my time in case I failed.)  Besides, I was told when Texas switched their Character and Fitness forms to a more stream-lined version, the background checks would go much more quickly.  If this is "much more quickly," I can't imagine what it would be like if I had filled out the extensive version.

Ahem.  Please don't take that personally, Character & Fitness Investigators Who Hopefully Never Find This Blog.

Something tells me when this part of the application finally goes through, those investigators are going to be taking an extra hard look at this little trouble-maker.

SWEAR WORDS!!!

Don't let anyone ever tell you that a library fine won't ruin your life.

It will.  It can.

Kids - always pay your fines.  Even if they're big.  Even if someone else was responsible for losing the book.  Even if the library people act like it's no big deal.

PAY THE FINE.

In fact, just make a general policy of giving libraries money whenever you check books out to cover yourself in the event of forgetting (or never knowing about) the fine.

Dumbest turn of events EVER.

I'll say it, I'm not ashamed

I love having a Blackberry.

I love that it's purple.  It's seriously more adorable than half the accessories I bought for the express purpose of accessorizing.

I love that I can get on the internet whenever I want.

I love that it blinks when I get a new email.

I love that its magical signal reaches even through the bomb-shelter-like walls of my apartment complex.

I don't mind that it crashes about once a week, and that it occassionally makes my heart jump by reminding me of work assignments when I should be having me-time. 

Any good relationship has its ups and downs, I think.

Hey, remember when ...?

... Nip/Tuck was mandatory watching?

When I was a junior and senior in college, I remember cramming into TV rooms at Tri Delt and Phi Delt to watch Drs. McNamara and Troy ask patients what they didn't like about themselves.  I remember screaming shrilly when the Carver would suddenly appear on-screen to slash up some unsuspecting victim.  Even by my first year in law school, Nip/Tuck was still solid.

And then ...

... I just stopped watching it for some reason.  

I've caught episodes here and there, in addition to the sort of salacious commercials only Nip/Tuck can produce.  So I kinda knew the boys had relocated to LA.  I knew Matt had become a porn star/meth addict/Scientologist/burn victim/etc.  I knew that Julia had left, come back, left, come back ... and now is back?

But with only ONE MORE EPISODE LEFT (before the series finale) I've decided to recommit to Nip/Tuck in our old ages, albeit briefly.

Like the Bridges of Madison County, only for me and a TV show that used to be cool.

My eyes are bleeding

Sorry I'm a delinquent blogger.

Sorry I feel compelled to apologize for that.

I've been busy entertaining guests.  Yay!

And tired from lack of sleep.  Meh.

And bored out of my mind due to the most tedious work assignment ever, but for which I am still grateful, because it will help me hit my hours.  Um ... boo...yay?

Global darkening is real!

I should be at work right now, but I'm taaaaaaaaaaard.  (That's how an old, fat, Southern man would say "tired.")  So I'm slowly getting ready and watching The Daily Show on Hulu. 

In the course of "working," my television watching has taken a severe plunge.   College students, heed my words--stay as long as you can!

Personal mantra*

I can't live the button down life like you.  I want it all!  The terrifying lows, the dizzying highs, the creamy middles!  Sure, I might offend a few of the blue-noses with my cocky stride and musky odors.  Oh, I'll never be the darling of the so called "City Fathers" who cluck their tongues, stroke their beards, and talk about "What's to be done with this Homer Simpson?"








* Way less mature mantra than John Stuart Mill, but it is what it is.

On Liberty

Complete liberty of contradicting and disproving our opinion, is the very condition which justifies us in assuming its truth for purposes of action ... there must be discussion, to show how experience is to be interpreted. Wrong opinions and practices gradually yield to fact and argument: but facts and arguments, to produce any effect on the mind, must be brought before it.

- John Stuart Mill

The last Diet Coke of the season

I know, I know.

Mormon girls the world over periodically claim that they're giving up Diet Coke.

I have probably been guilty of setting that absurd goal myself a time or two.

But this time I really am -- at least for twoish months.

See, the half-marathon training isn't going very well.

And this last week I have been constantly tired.

I've thought about it, and the only conclusion I can come to is that I need to change my diet.  Eat less, and ... sigh ... consume less carbonation and caffeine.

Because really, I thought about it, and since I've started work, I've averaged 72 ounces of Diet Coke a day.

Three 20 ounce bottles spread through the work day.  One to get me through the morning, one to go with my lunch, one to get me through the afternoon.  And then I usually down a can of Diet Coke/Diet Coke Cherry/or Tab to accompany dinner.  Sometimes two.

So I am giving it up, at least until April 17.

At which point I am going to demand an IV of the stuff to shoot directly into my veins.

Are you an Enniss or a Jack?

(This is my version of a Valentines Day post.  Hope you enjoy it.)

Finally got around to seeing Brokeback Mountain.  (I know, I'm totally that person who sees Casino in 2007, and wants to finally talk about it then.)

The thing is, I knew Brokeback was going to be really depressing, which is why I didn't go see it when it was first released. But for some reason, watching a depressing movie alone in my apartment in Austin seemed like a good idea.

But I wasn't so much taken in by the beautiful scenery or music.  I wasn't particularly won over by the acting, which was also great.

I mostly felt incredibly annoyed.

For those of you who haven't seen it, it's the story of two gay cowboys who fall in love one ranching season, but then who go their separate ways.  Enniss marries Alma and works as a freelancer in Wyoming, Jack marries Lureen and helps run her father's business in Texas.  Eventually they come back into contact again and are still totally in love with each other, at which point they agree to hang out roughly once a year, on "fishing trips" on Brokeback Mountain.

At some point Alma finds out about Enniss and Jack, and she and Enniss get divorced.  Around this time, Jack suggests that he and Enniss really make a go of it -- buy a ranch up on Brokeback Mountain, move to Texas, move to Mexico, anything.

Every time, Enniss shoots him down.  And eventually, they grow apart, Jack is killed, and Enniss is left alone to sob in his trailer over his lost love's shirt.  At which point you're supposed to really get the tragedy of their thwarted relationship, only ... I still just felt bugged.

Because Enniss was the one who thwarted the relationship, at every turn.  So when he was miserable at the end, I felt badly, but wasn't sympathetic.

I relayed my frustration with the movie to my friendster Nelson, who was unimpressed with my analysis.  "Society wouldn't let them be together," he said.  "They were unhappy and died alone because of that."

"No," I replied, irritated.  "They were unhappy and died alone because Enniss wouldn't take a chance on Jack.  Jack was always willing to buck society's trends in order to find happiness, Enniss just left him hanging every time."

"No, they couldn't have been together," Nelson insisted.   "Remember what happened to the two gay guys in the story that Enniss told?  The ones who were murdered by Enniss' dad and his friends?"

"First of all, there's no reason to think that would have especially happened to them," I replied.  "I'm not saying it would have been easy, but they both ended up dead or miserable ANYWAY -- so even if they were murdered, they could have at least been HAPPY in the meantime."

This went on for some time.  When Nelson and I argue, we usually don't ever find any common ground, so we have to simply agree to disagree.  But Nelson did have to throw this out there -- "You know, you would take Jack's side," he teased, alluding to the fact that he thinks I'm overly optimistic.

"Enjoy your unhappy ending, Enniss," I said back (with only a hint of snottiness).

Anyone out there who disagrees?  I know people love Brokeback Mountain, but anyone else think the real tragedy was the fact that Enniss made himself--and by extension, everyone who loved him--unhappy through his inability to trust people?  Or are you guys on Nelson's side, who thinks that Enniss made the only rational decision he could, and the fact that it made him and Jack miserable was simply something out of his control?

Also -- what was up with Heath Ledger's MUMBLING???  I seriously couldn't understand him half the time.  Sorry Heath, if you're reading this up in heaven, but that was not your best work.

Sweet, sweet Hi Def ...

After a month with my PS3 and new TV, I (read: my friend Snake) finally figured out how to attach my HDMI cable.

Would it be totally inappropriate to compare pre-HD TV to the Telestial Kingdom?

Probably.

Seven

I have realized that seven is my optimal friend-making number.

When I don't know anyone (as I do here, in Austin), I can't make friends in a crowded gym.  It looks fun, and if Diego, Kate, Alicia, Hannah, Rob, Sally, Aaron, etc. were here to boogie down with me, I would have gladly joined the dance party.

But when I'm alone, I just can't seem to do it.

You would think this makes me more of a one-on-one girl, but you'd be wrong.  I'm not good at putting my best foot forward, nor am I a very good judge of character.  Meeting a brand new person is generally an excruciating experience for me, and very rarely results in a brand new BFFship being formed.

Which is why college and law school were my ideal friendship-making zones.  You were constantly in smallish of groups of people, usually too lazy to leave the premises.  Friendships just were--it was very Zen.  Groups of seven people, hanging out and doing something?  I am all over that action.

Will someone please find me a play date so I can make some effing friends already?

Modern Family

If you do not watch this show, you are an idiot.

Thirteen hours later and I'm still giggling. 

Get on that.

NOW.

We still care about that?

Today a nurse came to my office to administer H1N1 shots.

My arm still hurts, but hey, at least I'm no longer in danger of coming down with the most overhyped disease of all time.

`

Feminists: Why We're Better Than You

Here's a little-known fact about feminists: we can be women, men, young, old, single, married, career gals, students, stay-at-home-moms, stay-at-home-dads, whatever.

Here's a little-known fact about non-feminists: they generally fall into one of two groups.  Pseudo-feminists and stay-at-home-fascists.  Pseudo-feminists believe they're the true feminists, and that anyone who doesn't agree with them is secretly repressed.  Stay-at-home-fascists believe feminism is evil, and anyone who doesn't agree with them is selfish or bad.

In case it isn't abundantly clear, the distinguishing feature is that feminists want people to be equal and do what they want with their lives, and non-feminists want everyone to be the same depending on their personal world view.

When men are misogynists, it usually doesn't bother me.  Sure, it's annoying, but they're on the wrong side of history, so whatever.  What is truly bothersome are women who are non-feminists.  I'm not talking about the pseudo-feminists, because everyone already finds them irritating.  I'm talking about the other kind.

You know who you are, 70% of female commenters over on the Blog-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named-At-The-Moment-Because-I'm-Still-Moderately-Irritated who took umbrage over a man criticizing acrylic nails rather than a man criticizing women who want careers.  (Seriously ladies, it would have been better to say nothing at all.)  All you little Mollies, so eager to get an anonymous blogger (who may or may not be real) to fall in internet love with you that you sold out your self-respect.  (And, no, I don't think that's being melodramatic.)

Sure, it's great that you're a stay-at-home-mother.  (Or, much like the nineteen-year-old Mormon walking stereotype to which I am referring, an aspiring stay-at-home-mother.)  If you would allow others the right to choose to be stay-at-home-mothers, or career mothers, or some combination of the two, then you would be happily in the feminist camp with the rest of us.  WE LOVE EVERYONE.

But nope.  You find people who don't agree with you "soooo annoying" or "selfish" or (best of all, considering there are just as many stay-in-bed-moms as there are stay-at-home-moms, and some of your kids WOULD be better off in the custody of a daycare) "bad parents."

True feminists will take your side when you exercise your right to choose to be a stay-at-home-mother, but when it comes time for you to return the favor, you non-feminists stab us in the back.  I'm sure you're glad that our feminist forebears won you political, legal and economic rights -- so if your plan doesn't work out, you will have some recourse regarding child custody, support and alimony, unlike them -- but you sure are quick to throw mud all over the feminist title.  But when you've got rock-solid logic like, "What else are these birthing hips for?" on your side, I guess it's hard to make that choice.  Never mind that we also got brains along with these birthing hips.

At the end of the day, you're more dangerous to women than any sexist man could ever be.  But that's okay, because when you're ready to admit the error of your ways, we'll be happy to welcome you over to our side.

Sincerely,

An unapologetic feminist Mormon, who (usually) likes her career, who is quite happy with her life, who will not quit her job if she happens to get married, and who may or may not stay at home with her kids, but considers that decision nobody's business but her own family's.

Dear Airline People: Addendum

I just had to add this - Kate (my 100 lb blonde sorority sister) just sent me the following email:

"Ballsack you were right. The US Airways flight that leaves from SLC and STOPS in Austin is a lot less than if you leave from Austin directly. Seriously, wtf? You should call the airline and bring that to their attention. I could chokeabitch."

I love it when Kate threatens to chokeabitch.

Dear Airline People,

I am searching for a flight to a friend's destination wedding.

Several of my friends have already booked their flight, and lo and behold, it features a stop-over in Austin.

Why then is their flight - Salt Lake to Austin to Destination - $100 cheaper than my flight of Austin to Destination? IT'S THE SAME FLIGHT, but two hours faster and many miles shorter. How does that not merit a reduction in price? It would literally be cheaper for me to drive home to Salt Lake and get on the flight with them, stop in my new stomping grounds, and then continue on to our final destination. (Of course, I would rather die that make that drive again, but you see my point.)

So I will most likely be booking the extra-expensive flight. I will board in Austin and cheerfully take my place in a seat hopefully near my Salt Lake friends (all of whom were initially quite jealous that their flight was going to stop over in Austin, because ALL OF US THOUGHT that meant my flight would be hella-cheap) as we wing our way to Destination Wedding 2010.

But I just wanted to let you know that this is why no one cares whenever one of your companies files for bankruptcy. You guys are dicks.

Love,

Me

My new Youtube Obsession

Parodies are nice and all, but parodies that make good use of R. Kelly? Inspired.

Gotsta be honest ...

It's hard to take Snowpocalypse seriously when it's 68 degrees outside.

Sorry, east coast.

Blog regret

OK, even though I feel like that last post was totally innocuous, channel surfing led me to an episode of Ugly Betty where Betty's blog gets her in big trouble.   I immediately started to get squeamish.

Now I'm trying really hard to keep myself from doing some quick editing/deleting.  And reminding myself that roughly three people read my blog on a semi-regular basis.

1950. Not just a year I don't want to live in.

(Note: In general, I am planning to avoid talking worky-things on this blog.  A, it's not fun for me, since I have to mentally edit everything to ensure I don't write anything unethical or fireable, and B, you all don't care, since lawyerin is usually not all that interesting.

But this is a more administrative issue.  Though still uninteresting.)

Budget at my firm is 1950.  I have to bill 1,950 hours in a calendar year.  This doesn't mean "work" 1,950 hours.  It means "bill"--in that, supposedly, someone somewhere might pay for this.  I can't count training, breaks, etc. toward the 1,950.

You would be surprised to realize how fast that non-billable time adds up once you're required to record everything every day.  Someone once gave me the advice that if you're efficient, you should be able to work a 10 hour day and bill 8 hours.  Seems like a decent rule of thumb to me, but what do I know?  I've been doing this for like six seconds.

Anywho, at the end of the month, you get a magical email telling you if you're on track to make your budget for the year.  I got my first budget assessment at work today.

Of the X number of hours I worked in the month of January, X minus some other number (let's say Q) is going to count toward my budget.  Q does not get to count.  Q was a painfully large percentage of X.

I knew that some things were not going to count toward budget (let's say A, B, C, etc. and so forth), but it came as a very unpleasant surprise that Q would not count.  Because I really thought Q did count.  And I have more Q-category projects that I need to keep working on, regardless of whether they count or not.  Which just means those are more hours that don't really matter, but I still have to complete.*

In a normal year, Q would not be a big deal, since most new lawyers start September-Octoberish, and they have three or four months to work up to hitting budget.  Because of the economy, I was deferred ... and it remains unclear whether starting in January brought with it the requirement of hitting 1,950 or if my cohorts and I will still get the grace period.

It has been strongly suggested to me, however, that I might want to prepare for a no-grace period situation.

Trying very hard not to console myself with a cheeseburger and vat of ice cream right now.



(* Look, I just want to say, I am very grateful for the job I have.  I know many law school graduates don't have jobs at this point, and many more have far, far, far suckier jobs than.  Far suckier.

That being said ... DAMN IT.)

On the way to dinner with G-Money ...

... I passed a store called "Adult Shoppe."

Because when you're shopping for sex toys, the extra "pe" guarantees class.