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I don't want to see animated versions of gross things. Toenail fungus? Nope, don't want to see it. Mucus? Nope, don't want to see it. If you have a toenail fungus problem, it's nothing to be ashamed of* and you deserve to know that there are treatment options. But do I really need to see some nasty blob digging into some cartoon toenail? I can only pray that the next nasty ailment to be animated isn't jock itch.

Today's sad news is that Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillippe have separated. We all know that celebrities are better human beings than us regular people.** If they can't make it work, what hope is there for the rest of us?? I'd like to see Reese shake things up a little on her inevitable rebound. Maybe snag Pete Doherty from the arms of Kate Moss. Nothing would give Reese a little street cred like hooking up with some British junkie with the teeth of a British junkie.

* This only means that you're allowed to talk about it with your doctor and maybe your spouse.
** Just go with me on this. It's the only way I can justify spending money on trashy celeb gossip magazines.

There, I said it

I'm a small girl. I probably don't deserve to be given my eating habits. I think I get it from my grandfather, who was able to eat a pint of ice cream every night without gaining weight. I guess I'm lucky. But damn it if it doesn't take me hours to be able to find a nice pair of pants that fit me. Either the pants are cut for a woman with hips, which leaves me looking like I'm wearing some kind of weird riding pants, or they're cut for a woman with a butt, which leaves me wearing a pair of pants with a big saggy pouch of fabric where my butt would be if I had one. I sometimes hear other women complaining that the pants they try on are cut for someone like me. I would like to know where they're shopping. And maybe I should tell them where I'm shopping. That way, we can all be happy.

The good news is that I was able to complete my mission of finding a cute pair of winter pants. It only took me like three hours. Tahari for really cheap. Sweet.

ho-hum

Nothing doing. I sort of fell down my stairs again. This time it was a little weird since I just knew I would probably fall. So I steadied myself at the bottom of the landing before I had to tackle the two or three stairs that lead to the driveway. And then I almost fell. Luckily, because I was at the bottom of the stairs, it was more of a stumble. I felt pretty awesome not being able to avoid falling after preparing myself not to fall.

I hope I didn't fail the bar. I haven't given it much thought since I took it. But since we get results next week, the thought of potential failure has been creeping into my mind. I'm sure it'll be fine. I'll just cry at the thought of trying to work and study for the bar again. That would totally suck since I am convinced the MBE is a beast that cannot be tamed by this woman.

I got my schedule for December. Looks like things will be pretty hectic. With the Thanksgiving holidays, I'll have to do the same amount of work as usual but I'll be missing a week in there. That will be pretty awesome. But I still love my job. And I have a whole new appreciation for the classes I took in law school. I mean, golf law would have been cool and all, but the bread and butter stuff has served me well thus far. Sometimes I even feel like I know what I'm talking about.

God bless my hair lady. Although she wasn't planning to work the Saturday after Thanksgiving, she said she'd be willing to give me a cut and redo my highlights anyways since I'm coming from out of town and she loves me. I am afraid to let anyone here touch my hair. My highlights grow out really well and I'm worried that if someone else tried to do the three-color combo my lady uses I'd get skunk stripes. Not that skunk stripes aren't awesome. Just not for me.

A travesty in Texas

I was catching up on legal gossip at abovethelaw.com. I was shocked and dismayed when I saw the winners of America's Hottest Law School Deans. How did UT Law Dean Larry Sager not make the cut? I mean, it's a no brainer. Evan Caminker of Michigan? Are you kidding me? It's not even close. Remind me to write a letter. I am not pleased. On the bright side, soon I'll be able to change my Larry Sager calendar over to November. I think he's trussed up like a sexy turkey for the November picture. Sweet.

More pointless weather-blogging: Forecast for this Thursday? Yup, rain. What is it with this place? Why does it rain every Thursday?

Victory!

I fried 2 eggs over easy last night. You may be thinking, "so the hell what." But I think I have successfully fried an egg once in my entire life. And to actually flip the eggs without breaking the yolks? Amazing. This was the first time I have cooked since I moved here. I have the worst eating habits ever. I really don't like to cook. I don't really know how to cook. I am lazy. I am the kind of person who will eat cereal every night for a week because it's just easier. I don't have a relationship with food. I like food. I like good food. But I generally don't care what I eat.

I spent some money today, but also saved some money. The kind folks at the eye doctor wouldn't release my contact lens prescription until I came in so they could check to make sure my contacts were okay. I was supposed to go last week, but thought I was supposed to go today. Apparently if you skip your appointment, the make-up is supposed to cost like $35. No one seemed to notice or care. So they didn't charge me $35.

I went to the mall to get some brown heels, which I need. I saw a lot of skinny jeans and leggings with tunics. I am still anti-skinny jean. It would seem that most women would avoid wearing pants that are designed to make their asses look bigger. This look is fine if you're 6 feet tall with no ass to speak of. The rest of us should just run away. Leggings and tunics? Yeah, I'd look really good in a sack. I distinctly remember doing this in junior high. I have pictures. It wasn't good then and I don't anticipate it will be any better this time around.

That's what friends are for

Yesterday the office went on a field trip. We spent the afternoon at the racetrack, which was pretty fun. It was a nice day and it was good to get away from the office. One of my coworkers came out of his office with a bolo tie on. The clasp was turquoise. It was a souvenir from Arizona. I stopped him and told him that (1) he wasn't going to a rodeo and (2) it's never okay to wear a bolo tie. I am sure there are old timers out there for whom a bolo tie makes perfect sense. Maybe even one with a turquoise clasp (that's a really big maybe). If you're a New Yorker who got here by way of D.C. by way of Chicago, it will never make sense. Save it for the vacation to the dude ranch.

I felt a little bad about posting this because it probably seems mean. But then I figured that the fifteen people who ever read this don't know this guy. And a bolo tie is always funny.

In other news, it's raining. It always rains on Thursdays here. If I wasn't so lazy, I'd go find some almanac to see if this is something that other people have noticed. I don't even watch the weather on Wednesday nights. Because I know it will rain on Thursday.

If Pedro can't do it, neither can Venezuela

I saw on the news the other day that Venezuela and Guatemala were handing out some goodies in the course of gladhanding diplomats as they gun for votes for a seat on the U.N. Security Council. Venezuela handed out some chocolate; Guatemala at least did something native, a card with fabric on it (why not just go all out for the friendship bracelet, really?). Um, I am pretty sure that tactics such as this are banned in most high school student council elections. I'm not sure what the benefit of these gifts are. I mean, we should be really worried if some guy is deciding on what country to vote for and says to himself, "Chavez may be crazy, but that was some good chocolate." It's not like the people there need reminders of the two countries gunning for the same spot. It's not a crowded field. Again, we should be really worried if some guy is deciding on what country to vote for and says to himself, "Why am I here? Ah, yes, the Security Council. Who's gunning for it? Ah, yes, the people giving away the fine chocolates. And the friendship bracelet people."

You know what sucks about the credit card bill? When you look around and wonder what the hell you bought that will take a year to pay off. I mean, I know I bought a couch on sale and the cheapest bed I could find (okay, the second-cheapest; the cheapest one really sucked). But these things together were well under $1000. I got my drinkware and utensils at Big Lots (um, yeah, no one working there had teeth; but there were deals to be had). My dresser is plastic drawers. So, I look around and wonder what the hell happened. It was like I was drunk for three months and don't remember what I did. I know that I don't have any cute shoes to show for it.

So I worked this weekend because of the unexpected uptick in workload. I was not successful in terms of getting anything accomplished. When I took a certain class in law school, I never knew what was going on. Whenever I would profess confusion, my professor would assure me that I understood everything. He called my state of mind "intelligent confusion." I'm not quite sure what that meant. I think it meant that I sort of understood what the relevant issues were, even if I didn't have a clue what the answer was. I just sort of talked in circles. Welcome to my weekend at work (and the entirety of last week). I don't even know if my current confusion qualifies as intelligent confusion. My sympathetic coworker said that I was entitled to a brain fart every now and again. But I fear that I am suffering from what amounts to the brain equivalent of a full-on gastrointestinal blockage. But I soldier on. Because that's how I roll.

Seasons! (and other random crap)

The leaves are changing. I am used to the leaves just turning brown and falling off. But this year I get to see colors. Maybe I'll take a drive one day to take it all in. Not this weekend. I will be working all weekend due to an unexpected explosion in the amount of work I have to do. I don't so much mind the work thing, but I'm a little peeved that I didn't find out about the explosion until today. Ah well. My weekends are mind-numbingly boring, so I guess work can't hurt. And I guess as long as I can sleep in, I have realized what I consider to be the most important benefit of the weekend.

With the coming of fall (today the cold front blew in, highs in the high 40s), here's my public service announcement. Ladies, when it's ass cold outside and you're wearing a miniskirt and furry boots, you're an idiot. As I've admitted previously, I don't really have a lot of room to talk. I have taken full advantage of the fact that I work with men who don't pay attention to what I wear by wearing outfits that I am pretty sure don't match. But still, miniskirt and furry boots when it's freezing? At least my fashion sins tend to stem from pure laziness.

And reason #101 why I rule: I fell down my back stairs on my way to work a little while back. It was loud and embarrassing (luckily, no one saw it happen). I banged up my knees and scraped my foot (how I injured the top of my foot falling down the stairs is still something of a mystery to me). Why does this make me awesome? Because I only lost like two drops of coffee. Now that's skill. Grace and skill.

Columbus Day - I don't know what I'm celebrating, but I have the day off

One benefit of working for the government is the holiday schedule. I don't really know what Columbus Day is all about. Italian-Americans? I'm down with that. The destruction of an entire group of people upon the "discovery" of America? Not so much down with that. Either way, I have the day off. Apparently some bosses make their underlings work today since Columbus Day is a bogus holiday. My feeling is that, if there's one thing Congress knows all about, it's vacation and time off. And who am I to argue with the experts?? I went to get my eyes checked out. Which meant that they dilated my pupils, which means that my plan of spending the day reading on my porch is shot to hell. I did finally solve the mystery of the blurry, floaty thingy that happens every now and again and prevents me from being able to see what I'm typing or reading. Ocular migraines. Apparently I am lucky that they're not followed by actual migraines. Annoying nonetheless.

I would do laundry, but some jerko has decided to just leave his crap in the washing machines in the basement. I am never comfortable touching other people's laundry, so I just wait to see if this person may get inspired to take his stuff out. Then I can wash my darks. Ohhh, the excitement never ends.

I went to the horseraces this weekend. It was packed as it was opening weekend. It was interesting to see that the races inspire men to wear pink. I guess horses bring out the genteel side of frat guys. It's better than seeing a horde of them in T-shirts memorializing the last date-dash or foam party they attended. I didn't gamble since (a) I'm broke-ass and (b) it proved to be far too complicated. Apparently I should stick to slot machines.

I'm blind

I can't see anything. My contacts have been all sticky the past few days and everything is sort of fuzzy. I thought maybe it was time to replace them, so I did. Problem not solved. I would wear my glasses, but the prescription isn't right so that doesn't really help since I can't see much with them and wearing them gives me a headache. I guess I should go get some new lenses to go in my frames. Maybe next month. The bills for this month along with a somewhat aggressive get-out-of-debt plan means I only have like $200 for the month. Which may be plenty. Or not. I'm never very good at estimating how much money I actually spend in a month, so I guess we'll see.

Work was hard today. But we happy hour-ed. So then it was better. But I have a sinking feeling that I am going to totally muck up what I'm currently working on. Then people will be all, "Man, she's got great highlights, but she's super dumb. How'd she even get this job?" And then I'll be all, "At least I didn't overuse the passive voice. Werd." Because that will be all I have to say to defend my work. Because I apparently know very little about the law and sometimes learning it proves difficult and confusing. Whatevs. What's the worst thing that could happen?

yippee

My sister got into endodontics school. An endodontist is a dentist who does hard root canals. Which, for some reason, sounds like it would be a smelly job. Or at least smellier than then the job of a regular dentist. The bad news is that it's at the University of Minnesota. She still has an interview in Houston, so maybe she'll get that and go there. Not that I should object to her moving since I'll be away from the great state of Texas for the next two years. Apparently endodontists make big bank. Between her and her soon-to-be-orthodontist husband, I better get some kick-ass Christmas presents starting in a few years.

On a more shallow note, I am a little annoyed that Honda redesigned the CR-V for the 2007 model year. I am annoyed because the new one is cuter than mine. If I were totally irresponsible I would trade in my 2006 for the new one. But I'm not that irresponsible. Yet. Maybe if I had gone straight to the firm and were making three times what I currently earn, I would be so irresponsible.

And, like many others, I am feeling like a fraud about to be discovered. Other than that, I still love my job. But today my brain hurts.

Why I hate to travel

Flight #1, Friday night. I remember that the stupid liquid-on-planes rules require that my liquid products (including mascara - wtf??) must be in a ziploc bag. I figure that my makeup carrier is made of ziploc bags, so I figure there's no problem. It takes the TSA geniuses at least five minutes to determine that there's nothing in the regulations saying that I can't also have empty ziploc bags (since all the liquids have to be in one bag, the other bags making up my makeup case are empty). I am allowed to pass, "just this once."* Flight takes off almost an hour late. The people in front of me can't figure out how to close their air blower thingy, so they point it at me so it's not blowing on them. When I finally get the nerve to tell them I'm freezing, they complain that the thing won't close and move it about a millimeter. I continue to freeze. About 20 minutes before we land in H-town, I am overcome with an awful stink. I can't figure out where it's coming from or what it is until I look down and see that the woman next to me has removed her shoes. Now the unidentifiable stink is identifiable as nasty-foot smell. Awesome.

Flight #2, Sunday night. Again with the bags. To avoid the hassle of the first flight, I get a separate bag for my liquids. I pick the bag that looks like it's the same size as what the other passengers were carrying when I flew in, thinking it would suffice. The TSA people tell me that my bag is too small. What the hell kind of safety concern is presented by my ziploc baggie being too small?? The TSA people decide that I can pass, "just this once."** Takes them about five minutes to come to this conclusion. Flight takes off almost an hour late. The woman in front of me talks nonstop for two hours. I look up from my magazine once every few minutes to try and will her mute with my brain waves. The woman next to me comments that her two-year-old isn't that talkative. I say that I hope this chick at least knows the person next to her. Right after I express this hope, the chick welcomes the poor guy to the city. I join the woman next to me in a good laugh. Still want to kill the talky-talky girl.

But, at least I got to see Mr. Raisins, the future in-laws, and my sister. Overall, not a bad weekend. I'm glad I didn't spend it alone (as per usual).

* The TSA people took a little bottle of water from some guy next to me. He asked if he could take a sip of it before they threw it away. This request was declined. Once the water was in the secure area, he couldn't have it back. Which generally makes sense to me. But I don't see how letting this guy take a swig of water poses a safety threat. Is he gonna fart a fireball on the plane? Pee a deadly laser beam? Maybe Tom Clancy can come up with some scenario that makes letting the guy take a drink turns out to be deadly. I can't think of one.

** I think the rules are totally stupid. But it's even more stupid to let people break them, just this once. I'm sure this phrase is music to some nutjob's ears.