I'm out

Like I needed to tell you. It's not that I've run out of stuff to say, it's that I've run out of anything to say that won't make me sound like a miserable malcontent. Let's face it, being an adult sort of sucks. It's like groundhog day - every day I wake up to the same shit. Sure, it's usually pretty good shit. And there's the occassional new adventure (yoga) or toy (hello, Brandeis bobblehead), but it's still groundhog day. And I can't even think of anything witty to say about it.

Thank you Billy Blanks

Yes, I am doing Tae Bo.  The workout craze of the, what, late nineties?  So I'm 10 years too late. Whatever.  All I know is that I totally touched my toes yesterday.  I have never been able to touch my toes.  Even when i was little and in gymnastics and could do the splits with my face on the floor.  But I could practically put my palms on the floor yesterday after 35 minutes with Billy Blanks.  Yippee!!  I do, however, look like a total ass when doing tae bo.  My coordination is such that cardio can only be done in the privacy of my own home.

I'm also taking a beginner yoga class with a friend.  I can't bring myself to "om."  It's just not me.  But the after-class tea is super-yummy.    Only issue us that there's totally a ringer in there who raises her hand and uses fancy yoga words.  I like to shoot her the stink eye.  A lot.  Along with the people who are there because they used to "study yoga" but fell out of practice.  It's like there's all these people who visited an ashram once and now say that they were students of yoga.  Why the beginner class, folks?  I'm sure yoga class isn't the place to judge.  Whatever.  I'm a judger.  Sue me.  Maybe I just need more yoga.

Pay Attention Kids

If you're 17 and you and your friends decide a group tattoo outing is a good idea: Stop.  Turn around.   And run away.  Sure, your friends will think you're lame (if they already don't).  But you will be laughing your ass off when those same friends, 12 years later, are sitting on their couches with an ice pack covering a big, burning, bleeding (in this case, turtle-shaped) scab.  

The lady said the laser would hurt less than laser hair removal.  I can say with total confidence that she was totally full of shit.

I love the aftermath of youthful idiocy...

The ethics of friending

I still don't totally understand what I'm supposed to be doing with Facebook.  I am however, experiencing the issues associated with friending.  There's a girl I know who pinged me on LinkedIn a little while back and even included a personal message about how I wasn't in California like I was supposed to be (don't bring it up; it makes me cry).  Haven't seen her since right before the clerkship.  I was in her wedding my 2L year of law school.  So I e-mailed her back to see if she wanted to get together now that I'm back in town.   No response.  That's cool.  Maybe she's busy.  She's on Facebook so I sent her a friend request.  Nothing.  Silence.  Is she mad I didn't invite her to my wedding?  It was a small affair!!  If she would e-mail be back, maybe she would know that.  It's like the unrequited friend request is the confirmation of the death of a friendship.   So sad.  I mean, I know I totally suck at keeping in touch, but is that really a reason to not accept a friend request from a bridesmaid??

Caved

I'm on facebook.  I don't get it.  I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it.  But I hear it's where the cool kids go.  And the nerds, too.  

To be or not to be

The professional woman.  Sure, I realize that I need to recognize the common mistakes that women make in terms of underplaying our strengths and smarts.  And I try not to do those things.  I try not to stand with my legs crossed, because that's apparently super-girlie.  But damn it if I'm going to start shopping exclusively in the St. Johns section of Nordstrom and trading in my awesome shoes for sensible shoes.  Maybe my button down has a slight puff sleeve.  And maybe I'm pushing it with the peeptoes.  It's not like I'm rocking a Pucci minidress at work.  And, my gosh, I will not fill my life with blazers (to make my shoulders look broad and square) and strip all of the fun parts of being a woman from my life.*

So maybe I will make a stand.  Or I'll give in and stock up on blazers.  But that's not going to happen now and, if it does, I know it will come after a long, hard fight.  

R.I.P. Nemo the fish.  Something happened to you early on and you spent the next three years hiding in your castle, like a finned Quasimodo.  Sure, you were shaped like an "S" and had the use of only one fin.  But you soldiered on.  And in your last months, you finally came out of your castle and hung out with us.  So long, little buddy. 

* It was suggested that I go by my full name, even though I haven't gone by that name for many years (I'm not sure I understand the reasoning behind the suggestion and I'm not sure that a man would be given the same suggestion).  It's not like I'm asking people to just call me Bubbles.

 

Hot

I got dressed in the dark today and it wasn't until I was in a courtroom bathroom in Burnet, Texas that I realized that I was wearing navy pants and a black jacket. Maybe no one noticed, but it was mortifying on principal.

What's up with the young guy on American Idol? I haven't watched it really until tonight, but why does he always look like he's about to cry? Is he really always about to cry? Can he handle the dog-eat-dog world of show business if he's always about to cry? I'm worried about this kid. And apparently his dad will yell at him for ruining dad's living-vicariously-through-my-kid dreams. He's screwed no matter what happens.

For the second time in two weeks

And possibly the last for the next decade, I went to court. And I won. Opposing counsel was like Matlock on crack; kinda nuts. I think the best part was when he admitted he wasn't entitled to what amounted to injunctive relief, but then proceeded to orally move for summary judgment, without calling it summary judgment. Granted, I'm pretty sure a chimp could have won the hearing, but still. And I get the odd feeling that one of the senior associates at work is basically telling me to run away. Especially if I like the courtroom stuff. You know, because we don't do that. When people ask me what kind of litigation I do, I've taken to telling them that I have a vibrant motions practice. Man, I miss law school.

All is well

So I may or may not have actually screwed up last week; we can't really tell for sure. So far no one seems to have noticed. And we're just crossing our fingers that no one will.

Today I did my first courtroom thing. And only messed up like a tiny bit. I got to argue some sentencing stuff in federal court; it was a good beginner thing since we were expecting the worst and got better than that. Yay me!

Like I needed another reason to feel stupid

I've been told over and over again that, as a lawyer, I will screw up. It's just a matter of when. It's sort of like getting a new car and then waiting for the inevitable door ding. Well, it happened. And it sucked. And it was the dumbest, most rookie-ass mistake I could have made. At least when I got my first door ding, I could just relax and stop caring about door dings - when you have one, what's the biggie if you get another. Not so much with the screw-up. I just feel like a tool. No one yelled at me, though. Which is nice.

I have my first court appearance on Monday. Pray for my client. Apparently I am an idiot.

Best. Show. Ever.

So I never really got into the Real Housewives of Orange County. The Real Housewives of NYC? Totally awesome. Never underestimate the power of reality television to make you feel better about yourself because, basically, you're a good human being and not insane. You just don't know who to feel saddest for - the obvious social climbers who probably aren't ever going to be rich enough to hang out with the real money in NYC or the 40-something who dresses like she's 18 and is constantly on the verge of exposing her vajayjay to anyone on the scene at whatever ridiculuous clubs she's going to.

Not so much

Looks like a weekend not spent working wasn't in the cards for me this week. Is it just me or is litigation fun except for all the things that happen before and after the trial?

And it looks like a UT Alum will be making his home at One First Street in 2009. That should be good for like one point in the rankings, right? (Which rankings? Doesn't matter, given at least one relatively recent and proud reference to UT's high spot on dragonlaw.com's rankings. WTF?). In all seriousness, it's pretty sweet. And I have every intention of getting my Clarence Thomas autobiography into his hands for an autograph. Tacky? Tasteless? Absolutely. But the only class I have is low, so I guess I'm not bothered.

And here's yet another shout out to Frank, apparently the state's, country's, and even the world's leading expert on non-signatory estoppel. Ditch private practice and make a career of this, dude. Judging by the publishing records of some faculty, it's totally doable.

Highlight of my social calendar

Let's just say that I don't actually have much of a social calendar, which might explain why the Law Review Banquet is the highlight. But I always have a super time and last night was no exception. A perfect black taffeta shirt-dress (it has pockets; there is nothing better than a dress with pockets). I love getting dressed up and looking all fierce and if you grow you hair out, people automatically think you're prettier than you used to be and tell you how great you look. Judge Southwick seemed like a nice guy. And I told a federal court of appeals judge that she has fierce hair (what? She is still a woman and maybe, just maybe, she appreciated someone going to the shallow instead of just kissing her robed ass?). The best part? The lady trying to hook Nate up with a bevy of college-age beauties. It was the weirdest thing ever. He's such a stud.

Minimal work this weekend, I hope. Trying to not hate your existence is hard when your weekend gets fucked with.

It's really worse than blowing up babies?

As if we needed it, license to make fun of all things Oklahoma is hereby granted, thanks to the latest federal legislator from that state to go on a homophobic rant. I thought Coburn was a little off his nut when decrying the apparently rampant lesbianism in Oklahoma schools, but Sally Kern is apparently really bat-shit crazy. Did you know that homosexuality is a bigger threat than al Qaeda?? I'd like to thank Rep. Kern for reminding me why I have never actually voted republican in a major election despite the fact that I am decidedly not a democrat. I'd like for John McCain (if he must be the nominee) to stand up and just admit that he actually doesn't give two shits about the "gay agenda," that the one thing not keeping him up at night is the "gay agenda," and that, dammit, members of the base for whom this is such an issue can go screw themselves. The two-party system blows.

Work hasn't been awesome for a few weeks, but I think it should be an on upswing this coming week. It has to. Or I might die. Last week was salvaged when I was sprung from my doc review to go to an ACL taping in the middle of the afternoon. The only downside was the new pair of four-inch heels I was breaking in that day. By the time Michael Stipe was done doing what he does, I couldn't feel my toes. But the shoes are super cute. And I think we all know that cuteness is all that matters when it comes to shoes.

Karma's sort of broken

We've all met those people who apparently feel it necessary to make other people look or feel bad to make themselves look or feel better. I'd like to think that karma's a bitch, blah, blah, blah and that surely such people don't get ahead. But I think we all know that they do get ahead and that they probably actually get quite far. At least the smart ones. Unless these people end up with nasty cases of athlete's foot that I don't know about, karma doesn't actually seem to be a bitch. And that sucks.

One more for the WTF column

Went to hang out near the finish line at today's marathon (big ups to my sister- and father-in-law for crossing the finish line, especially since the SIL's shoe was apparently filled with blood). As an homage to the runners, wore my most comfortable and sporty heels (I no longer own cute jeans short enough for flats, except for my skinny jeans, and who wears skinny jeans to a marathon??). On the way to the t-shirt tent, I spotted the Crocs truck. Featuring a photo of a high-heeled Croc. Why, why, why? You can either wear heels or you can wear Crocs. There is no best of both worlds here. Nike Air + heels = stylish engineering genius. Crocs + heels = nasty, plastic heels. You can't hide a Croc in a heel. It's very Croc-ness makes it inappropriate for heel form.

In other news, I totally rode up the elevator the other day sort of staring at this guy's butt, fascinated by its sheer flatness. It was like a pancake in a pair of pants. I felt a little sheepish until I realized that my co-worker was starting and thinking the exact same thing.

Work it!

I have to give a presentation tomorrow. On any topic I want. Which is sorta hard. I have decided to talk about why high heels are bad for you, but why I wear them every day. Turns out, unless you're rocking some orthopedics, women's shoes generally seem to be bad for the feet. So why not go for the heels? I believe in the power of high heels to make me walk like a bad-ass. I actually returned a pair of perfectly good heels the other day because they were too short. I'm to the point where I need a minimum of three inches strapped to the bottom of my feet Monday through Friday. Sure, the whole thing started because I was too lazy to go get my dress pants tailored. But I'm a convert. A true believer.

Of course, in doing my research for my shoe presentation, I stumbled across an online debate and am *shocked* to learn that I like to wear heels only because I have been brainwashed by a misogynistic culture that seeks to objectify me by making me wear shoes I can't run in. I guess I know what people with womyn's studies degrees from Yale debate and think about all day*.... Get jobs, people!! And, no, "freelancer" is not a job without an additional descriptor!

I actually read 2 books in January. Finally got my hands on the Clarence Thomas autobiography (don't hate). Then did Love is a Mix Tape by Rob Sheffield in one day. I laughed, I cried. It was super. Next on my list is Living to Tell the Tale, the first volume of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's memoirs. He's my favorite, favorite, favorite of all time. Talk to me in six months and maybe I'll have finished half the book.

* I know plenty of women's studies majors. Unless they went to Yale, I wasn't talking about them.

Too good to be true

I left work on Friday night convinced that my long weekend would surely be interrupted with follow-up questions and requests for more research, etc.... I haven't heard a peep. I'm convinced that the network is down or something because I can't possibly be this lucky, can I?

Head's up ladies - if you're old enough to vote, you're too old to wear anything that could accurately be described as a jumper. Just tossing that out there....

Wii Wish You a Merry Christmas

I made out like a bandit for Christmas. Some iPod speakers for the office, a Fergie CD (I really, really tried to resist, but she is Fergilicious), and a Wii. The Wii is pretty fun. For people like me, it's quite a workout. I am very, very bad at it, though.

The festive holiday mood went a little sour when we discovered that my fat, dumb cat was peeing in a closet. I'm pretty sure Mr. Raisins' scuba vest won't recover. The thing smells like shit. Opie is such a dumb-ass.

And now, fun wedding pics...

I love this one. I'm laughing because Mr. Raisins has just shown me his sock garters. He was very proud of his sock garters.

This picture is just so damn cute... There weren't many kids at my wedding. The ones there quickly formed a blonde-brigade and took over the swing.

I think this is my favorite of all the wedding pictures.

That's my sister helping me with my dress. I love my dress.

Why is the bride posing like that? What's she looking at? Well, the photographer told her to and she's looking at the cars pass by on MLK.