Rue the day? Who talks like that?

Oh hell yes my friends, it is 10:38pm and I am STILL at school working on my memo. I curse the day that legal memos were invented. I have written and rewritten four hundred times based on the fact that every new thing I read convinces me that I was totally wrong before. My brain hurts. My eyes hurt. My hands are numb. And I think I might be dehydrated.

Time to go home. The cursed memo will still be around at 5am. God my life sucks ass.

No. Just No.

I am locked in my office working on my memo. Most everyone else has class at this time, so usually there's no one else here. But, today, lucky me, some guy who I've never seen before showed up and apparently belongs here since he has a key. And also, lucky me, he's having soup. And, luckiest of all, he's slurping the damn soup so loud that I'm about to come totally unhinged. I put in my headphones and turned on some music and I can STILL HEAR THE GODDAMN SLURPING!

This is how people end up disappeared...I'm just saying.

DO I NEED TO PAINT THE WALLS PINK?

I got YET ANOTHER email tonight from someone that was addressed to "MR. Spatula." (This issue has been addressed before). Do I need to change the colors? I don't want a blog template that looks like someone yakked up an entire bottle of Pepto Bismol, but I will do that if necessary. DO NOT TRY ME.

I bet 50% of the email I get is addressed to me as if the person thinks I'm a man. The guy tonight just wanted something and is clearly not a regular reader, so OK, whatever. But sometimes people go "I love your blog..blah blah blah...." And often THEY call me Mr. Spatula, or in other ways indicate to me that they think I'm a man. I have to believe that if a person reads this blog, oh, more than ONCE, they would know I'm a girl. I. AM. A. GIRL.!!!!

What the hell? I realize I don't have a picture up or anything, but damn. I guess what I'm saying is, if you're going to take the time to write me a letter saying you like my blog (or want me to link to you), at least read enough of it to realize I'm a chick. If you're going to write me a letter to tell me you think I'm not funny and not a good writer, well, you can just kiss my pink, sparkly, girly ass.

I made it home alive.

I drove to Interview City today...it was snowing like CRAZY there, but only right around the city, so the drive wasn't too awful. And the snow was really beautiful and shiny and sparkly, which we all know I love. The interview was OK...who can ever know about these things?

I am going to spend the evening listening to my Christmas music (with a break for NCIS...since Gilmore Girls isn't on tonight because WB is showing some stupid movie) and working on my memo. I managed to con my boss into letting me have tomorrow off since he's out of town (with the promise of a makeup day later), so that eases my mind a bit concerning the memo. I can sit in the library ALL DAY tomorrow like a good little crazy nutso law student and work myself to death while incubating the world's largest and most totally unnecessary ulcer. Just the way it's supposed to be! Doesn't it feel nice when everything works out?

Christmas music...the bah humbug antidote.

To make myself feel better I made a Christmas CD with a bunch of fun music on it that would cheer up even the stubbornest of grinchy grinches. It has Harry Connick Jr., The Barenaked Ladies, and even Clay Aiken, God bless his stubbornly refusing to admit he's gay heart. I even have that Mariah Carey song "All I Want For Christmas Is You." It always makes me think of the movie Love Actually, which I didn't even like all that much, but I do heart both Colin Firth AND Hugh Grant...so whatever.

The only bad thing is that the car doesn't have a CD player, and although I have a portable CD player and one of those car converter thingies that plugs into the cigarette lighter, it's still not working. So, I guess I'm stuck with listening to the regular radio for my trip today, but as soon as I get home I'm going to turn on my Christmas music, drink hot chocolate (OK, probably Diet Coke), and dance around like a fool. Because I can, that's why.

Listen, I know that going to extremes and downloading Clay Aiken and Mariah Carey Christmas songs isn't the solution for everyone, but as I always say, "Any port in a storm." So there you go.

Somebody's got a case of The Mondays!

I have a huge legal research assignment due on Thursday afternoon and instead of working on it I'm sitting on the couch just sort of being overwhelmed, which has lately become a full-time job. I thought I would work on it all day tomorrow, and then late last night I remembered that I have to drive to a city about two hours away tomorrow for an interview. And it's supposed to snow tonight. And the city is north of here (as in, nearly in Canada...as in, where if it snows tonight it's going to SUCK to drive there). I really don't feel motivated to do anything except worry about stuff. I'm worried about my Crim Pro final and all the reading I haven't done, worried about finishing my memo by Thursday because I *need* a good grade on it, worried about finishing my "real" work in the next couple of weeks since my job ends at the end of next week, worried about finding a job, worried about a whole host of other things that I'm not even going to go into on the blog.

I'm such a downer. Sorry.

Take a picture, it'll last longer.

What are you looking at? Haven't you ever seen a redheaded girl in a 1999 Mercury Sable with a W '04 bumper sticker and a "God Loves You" window clinger singing Roxette's famous hit "You've Got The Look" at the top of her lungs into a half-empty Diet Coke bottle before? Sheesh.

I want it THAT way

H/t LQ for sending me in the direction of this HI-larious video of two dudes lipsynching to "I Want It That Way" by The Backstreet Boys. Oh God. It's funny.

As she says, it's in the fine tradition of the Numa Numa video, although not quite as funny because they for some reason don't seem as spontaneous as that Numa Numa guy. But still, pretty funny.

Laptops, and cars, and exams...OH MY!

Well, I ordered the laptop yesterday. That's the good part. The bad part is that, in order to get no tax on it (my parents live in a state with no sales tax) I had to have it sent here, to their house. This means that I won't be able to pick it up until I come back home for Christmas. Oh well. It was well worth it for the thrill of being able to charge $1200 on my dad's platinum card. Heh.

The car is another story. First of all, my grandpa, God bless his ultra-conservative soul, has a couple of Dubya support stickers on his car. Those are gonna have to go. I'd like to take them off now but I'm afraid it will hurt his feelings. I am fairly conservative myself and I can't even support about 85% of what the prez does, so I don't think I need the stickers. Besides the fact that in the TVPNM it will probably be enough to get my windows smashed in or something. He also has some "God Loves You" types of bumper stickers. Those are going to have go too. I have no doubt that God loves me (and all of you if that's your thing), but I don't need a bumper sticker to prove it. Last time I had a bumper sticker on my car it said "I wouldn't touch you with someone else's 10 foot pole." So, there you go. I'm going to have to find something really classy to put on it, but not until I move far enough away that I won't be driving home a lot...never look your free car gifthorse in the mouth, that's what I say.

Also, in relation to the car...I had to become a resident of my new state in order to get in state tuition. Because my parent's state has no sales tax, and the car is coming from there, I am going to have to pay sales tax on the value of the car when I register it, which has to be in the next 30 days. In other words, my state is punishing the state next to it for not having sales tax by trying to discourage people from going there and buying big things like cars and then bringing them into my state. What I'm trying to say is that registering the car is going to cost me between $400-500. I guess I understand the premise behind the rule, but the whole point of the car being a gift is that I can't afford to buy one for myself. It probably goes without saying that I can't afford the $400 either. All I can say is, thank God for parents who can afford to help me out...I'd be so screwed without them. I'm going to try to remember to think about that every time I drive my new car or peruse the internets on my new laptop.

We went and saw the new Harry Potter movie last night...I really liked it. I haven't really had a chance to sit and peruse my usual amount of internet news and stuff due to being down here, so I don't know what everyone else is saying. But I thought it was 100% better than the last one. Of course, I don't read the books, so what the hell do I know.

Last night I had nightmares about exams. It's going to be a long haul the next two weeks to teach myself all of Crim Pro before the exam. It's a class that meets five days a week, and I am about 20 reading assignments behind, although some of the cases I've read for other classes or work. Still though, there's going to be some craziness I think. My last big Legal Research II memo is due Thursday, then I'm basically done with that class except for one last small timed memo next week...but we only get like an hour to do it, so win or lose, it's only an hour.

I am not looking forward to leaving tomorrow morning, but I have to say, given the way my mom's been feeding me, it's probably better that I leave or else none of my new clothes are going to fit. Geez.

Hooray for a new laptop!

Today we are ordering my new laptop online and hopefully it will be getting to my apartment in the TVPNM at the beginning of next week. I'm so excited! It's REALLY light compared to my old one, only a little over 5 pounds, and it comes with a free printer and wireless router, so I'll finally have wireless in my apartment, which is so cool. Also, hopefully it won't randomly shut off in the middle of things I'm doing like the old one! :) Really though, this is an awesome early Christmas present from my parents and I'm super excited because I really use and abuse the laptop I have now and having one that actually works and works well is going to be so wonderful for me. I can't wait!

In other news, my parents and I are going to see the new Harry Potter movie this afternoon and my mom is taking me shopping to get a few things I need before I head back. I swear, I wish I could stay here forever, it's so nice feeling all loved and supported -- being ripped out of this cocoon of happiness and dumped back into law school exams and work and everything is a pretty rude awakening to a harsh reality. Oh well, I guess all a girl can do is keep plugging along and trying to make everything work out. Sigh. I'm going to go ogle my new laptop online until my parents come home with their "credit cards" and their "parental money" and order it for me.

Turkey Day...and incomplete list of things I'm thankful for.

Today I'm thankful for my friends and family and all of that stuff that I know I should be thankful for every day, but sometimes don't spend enough time actually thinking about and acknowledging.

Further, I am thankful that on the 12 mile bike ride I took with my dad in the mountains today I didn't get hit by a logging truck, that I got my mountain bike up to 26.5 mph on a nice downhill, and that my dad, the king of all that is bike riding, told me I did a good job and that he was impressed at how far I've come, fitness-wise, in the past few months. I am also thankful that, later on, when I went with him to walk Molly the Satanic Dog up on some mountain trails, that I didn't have a heart attack and die when we spent about a mile walking straight uphill...after a morning of bike riding. I am especially thankful that my mom made fresh cookies AND pumpkin pie, and I feel like I earned a free pass to eat as much of it as I want due to my very active morning.

Really, I would also like to add a big "I'm thankful" to my grandpa for my brand new (to me) car...I drove it today for the first time and it's awesome. Awesome and free. Hell yeah.

Other things I'm thankful for (in no particular order :) ):

M. (duh!)
Super Big Gulp Diet Cokes from 7-11.
Jimmy Buffett
Sublime
A good haircut
My favorite pair of jeans that finally fit again
Cover Girl Wetslicks Lipgloss
A new winter coat, bought by Mama Spatula
All my law school pals (you know who you are)
Mama and Daddy Spatula and Molly the Satanic Dog
My new laptop that I'm buying tomorrow (see Mama and Daddy Spatula above)
Hot cookies right out of the oven
This blog and its readers who are so nice and kind and always cheer me up and send me funny emails.
The fact that despite all evidence to the contrary, I can actually feel hopeful about finding a job less than 24 hours after being totally and utterly rejected (I'm either more optimistic than I'll admit to, or more stupid than I am willing to acknowledge).
Anything or anyone else that has recently added happiness to my life which I have failed to mention above.

Alright, when's Christmas?? And, frankly, it's never too early to start planning for my birthday, people...January 11th!! I am planning on staying 30 for another year though...I can't handle being OVER 30. Ick!!

One more thing.

You know what I hate? When someone interviews you and spends the whole time telling you how fabulous and wonderful you are and how well you'd fit into their organization and makes a really big deal about how you should make sure to be by your phone first thing the next morning because you'd definitely be getting a call, and then two days later they finally call you and tell you that, although you are very talented and blah blah blah, so is everyone else and unfortunately they can't give you the job. And also they say that it "wasn't their decision." That hurts. At least own up to the fact that you had to make a tough decision and it didn't come out the way I would have liked, but it's what's best for the person who ultimately matters, the employer.

I'm disappointed. I'm kind of hoping that if the D.C. job is going to reject me they'll do it very soon so I can get through this entire wave of rejection all at once before I have to start back from square one looking for a job after the holidays.

There's something to be said for spending $90K on an education that, so far, is proving virtually useless in terms of getting me a job. Not to mention the three years of my life that have swirled down the drain right in front of my eyes and the sucking of my soul directly from the hollow shell that used to be a real, well-rounded, non-depressed, non-insane, non-paranoid, non-rejected, person.

On that happy note, I plan to be back to my old self in time to enjoy the holiday tomorrow, and I hope that you all enjoy it too. My mom has decided against turkey, and we'll be enjoying lasagna in the Spatula household.

Also, leave a comment and tell M. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Cuz she's the bestest best friend forever a girl could ever have and without her I would probably ACTUALLY shrivel up and die, and not just feel like I'm going to sometimes.

Six bucks and my right nut says we're not landing in Chicago.

It was a harrowing travel day for me...I was supposed to be here at 8:30am, after about a 2 hour flight, and I made it here at about 4:30pm, after a cancelled flight, a delayed rescheduled flight, an almost cancelled while sitting on the tarmac flight, a further delay to fix the reason the plane was sitting on the tarmac, and an eventual rerouting into another town, over two hours away, only to be met with a Greyhound bus to bring me the two hours to the place I was originally supposed to fly into...which should have taken two hours, TOTAL. To top it off, I got to spend over an hour on the Greyhound bus waiting for the next incoming rerouted flight to get there so that those people could get on the bus as well. It was awesome.

Let's not even get into the fact that for the absolute joy that was my travel experience today, I got to get up and start my day at 3:45am. I want to especially thank the guy who sat next to me on the first leg of my journey that ignored NOT ONLY my Ipod plugged into my ears, BUT ALSO my closed eyes, head resting on a pillow, blanket pulled up to my neck, and not-exactly-subtle string of drool pouring out of my open, snoring mouth, in order to tell me all about how he'd been living in the woods in Alaska for the past couple of months and was SO EXCITED to (1) take a shower (I had to agree), (2) "see" his wife, and (3) use his own toilet. It was so uplifting Sir, thanks for sharing. No really. Loved the flannel and beard, very authentic.

I have some other things going on too that, if they come to a resolution, may be talked about here in the next few days. But, I'm just not sure. I have a lot of irons in the fire right now. So, update perhaps tomorrow...must. have. sleep.

Gone Fishin'

Back on Tuesday night probably. PS: Two pictures from the roadtip I took with M. a couple of years ago. They were taken in my favorite place on earth, the Northern California coast.

The man on the bus.

Sometimes on the bus on the way home from work I sit next to a man, not always the same man mind you, who just looks absolutely worn out. Often he's wearing jeans and work boots, a jacket and a knit cap, maybe even a hardhat tucked tightly under one arm. Each and every piece of clothing is covered in sawdust, or tar, or paint, or dirt. His hands look so hard; I can't imagine that he ever had little boy hands, soft and warm and gentle. Most of the time he has a beard, or a goatee, or a moustache...the gray hairs set off by the deep tan of his heavily lined face. Are they laugh or worry lines? I always wonder.

Inevitably, this man, this hard-working father, or son, or brother, or husband, will start to be lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the city bus. His eyes, flinty blue or mossy green or maybe golden brown, beneath thick, dark lashes, begin to fade closed despite what I imagine to be his best intentions.

When he finally falls asleep, unable to fight his exhaustion, and his chin comes to rest on his chest, and the lines on his face just sort of float away, and those gorgeous lashes flutter ever so slightly, hovering just above the top of cheekbones that any woman worth her salt would kill for, it breaks my heart. Every single time. If I could somehow erase his weariness with a look, or a touch, or a smile, I would do it without a thought. I pray, to the extent that I ever pray, that his short respite provides him some sense of renewal.

I wonder if anyone on the bus ever prays for my renewal.

Nothing, just nothing.

I seriously got nothin' today, and I've been really busy all day doing mundane stuff that is totally not interesting (not that the fact that my life is uninteresting usually keeps me from writing about it). I have to be ready to go to the hockey game/barbeque in an hour, so I don't really have time to think of anything either. Maybe tomorrow?

I've got your magnet right here.

I kind of wanted a magnet for myself, so I went ahead and put them up at the store (hopefully you can also click on the picture to get to the store, but who knows if that will work once I hit "Publish"). Anyway, just an FYI.

Are you boys cooking up there? No! Are you building an interociter? NO!!

Today I sent off a short story to a contest. It felt really good to focus on my writing, come up with an idea, force myself to edit and try to be concise but colorful, and then send it off to the judges with my REAL name on it. I was just telling someone via email that, as often as I've been glad that this blog is anonymous and some of the things I write aren't attributable to the "real" me, much more often I am proud of something I write for whatever reason (it's funny, or touching, or I just like the way it sounds), and I'm sad that I can't claim my work. I'm not sure if I'll ever start a blog under my real name that I'll share with my friends and family (the ones who I would be uncomfortable telling about WWFFD)...this one is pretty much an open secret at school, everyone seems to know about it and I talk about it pretty openly with people unless I really sense that I can't trust them.

Anyway, life is moving along out here in the TVPNM. It's rainy and gets pitch-black dark by 5pm. It's cold. Exams are in just about three weeks...which is only a problem if you haven't opened your book even one time all quarter, and who would be stupid enough to do that? Not me, that's for sure. Sigh.

I haven't heard anything about any jobs, although I continue to turn out cover letters like the fate of the free world hangs in the balance. Between the job search and my lack of a love life, I think my first novel is going to be titled: Rejection: A Chronicle Of My Experience Being The Most Unloved Person On The Whole Entire Planet And The Whole Universe And Maybe Even The Galaxy Or Vice-Versa If A Universe Is Actually Bigger Than A Galaxy Which I Would Probably Know If Someone Loved Me Enough To Either Sleep With Me Or Give Me A Job, Or Both. The title is kind of long, but I'm sure I can win over the editors. The editors of my imaginary book. And no, I'm not sure how feeling less rejected would help me to understand astronomy. It just would.

Aside from all of these truly fascinating tidbits about my day to day existence which I know you all axiously await like...well...I don't know...I'm too tired to come up with something clever (I used it all up on the previous paragraph..and isn't that a sad fact, when that crappy paragraph was seriously the pinnacle of my creative achievement for tonight), not much else is going on.

Tomorrow I'm going with a friend of mine to a barbeque being thrown by two hockey teams. Thank God I'm immune to the charms of cute boys on ice. Quit laughing, I am! OK, we all know I'm lying, but if anything good happens at least I'll have something to write about that will be better than the crap I subjected to you tonight in the last several paragraphs.

Not to beat a dead Tyra, but....

One of my local cable channels is replaying The Tyra Banks Show where she dressed up in the fat suit (which I talked about a couple of days ago).

On the show, she shows up on these blind dates as a 350lb woman, tapes the men being mean and awkward, and then at the end she's like "Oh buuuuuuuuuuuuuurn, I'm Tyra Banks BITCH!" Then she has the guys on the show and lets them hem and haw about why they acted like dicks and there's these two overweight girls on her couch who are like those Japanese girls that follow Gwen Stefani around...they just sit there and cry and every once in a while she points to them and goes "Seriously girls, isn't it awful being you?"

And see, I have a couple of issues here.

First, Tyra is acting like a lunatic bee-yotch on the blind dates. The first thing she says when she sits down is "So, do you usually date big girls? How do you feel about big girls? Would you feel strange walking down the street with me because I'm so big?" I mean, she's a total freaking psycho!!!

Second, *I* would be very uncomfortable if one of my friends set me up on a blind date and the guy who showed up was 350 pounds. That's (in my opinion) outside the norm as far as being overweight...I think there's a big difference between being morbidly obese and being simply overweight in any of its various permutations. I would be DOUBLE uncomfortable if the guy spent the whole FIRST BLIND date quizzing me about how attracted I was to him and how I felt about his weight. Those are issues that I just wouldn't be comfortable talking about with a date I knew, let alone someone I had just met. It doesn't excuse the guys being outwardly dickish about it, that's just a matter of good manners, but at the same time, I wouldn't have expected them to be totally comfortable and want to take the 350lb woman straight back to their apartments for a roll in the hay. Once again, no excuse for these dudes being assholes...but I would be willing to bet they are assholes all the time and what we saw is their true personalities shining through, which has nothing to do with the issue of how they feel about overweight women, but how they treat the entire human race.

And here's the thing. No 350lb woman would ever walk into a blind date situation without knowing for sure the guy was attracted to larger women. *I* am only slightly chubby (really slightly these days) and I wouldn't be caught dead going on a blind date (at all probably), but definitely not unless my friend really thought the guy would think I was physically attractive. No one is more attuned to the imperceptible, nonverbal (and sometimes very verbal) judgments that people, especially man people, make about women than a woman who is overweight. No one.

So, not only is the show stupid because it "exposes" a problem that no one in the world was unaware existed, but it's done in such a way as to make it even LESS insightful and interesting. I mean, in the end, everyone in the world has something about their physical self that makes them uncomfortable or unhappy.

Anyway, I could go on and on about how incredibly ridiculous these pretty girls in fat suits are, but I will spare you. At least I'll spare you from here on out.

Creating a happier America one drunken day at a time.

Tre! over at You Can't Get Arrested For Being Awesome (one of my new favorite blogs) has some good suggestions for how to get this country back on the right track. I'm totally surprised they didn't come from NDC (except for the lack of naughty words...that's how I know someone else definitely wrote it)...they made me laugh out loud, and what more could a girl want on a Tuesday morning??

More Tales From The Temporarily Un-beautiful

Vanessa Minnillo, who is apparently a correspondent on Entertainment Tonight, is, GASP, putting on a fat-suit and braving the streets of New York as a fake 350lb woman. Here's what she has to say about her experience:

"As someone in the public eye, I've dealt with my fair share of people staring at me," concludes Vanessa. "But for the first time in my life, I found out what it's like to have people turn away and avoid eye contact -- in fact, do everything in their power to steer clear. It was shocking. It was hurtful."

It was SHOCKING! I just bet it was. Maybe she and Tyra ought to get together and have a conference on how awful it is to be fat for an ENTIRE DAY!

What sucks is that these beautiful women dress up like overweight women for one day and then they take off the fat suit and they have a good cry about how awful it must be for those poor, poor overweight (read: ugly and undesirable) women. Here's some news. Overweight women have lives. They go to work. They have sex (it's true!). They have children and husbands and victories and triumphs. Every day isn't the worst day of their lives. Do they have traumatic moments? Obviously YES! I feel qualified to talk about this because although I've never been 350 pounds, I've been pretty significantly overweight. You know what IS appalling? Some reporter CRYING because she saw herself in the mirror in a fat suit before she even left the room and then saying "Do I look like you? I'm fighting for fat women everywhere!" (She just said that on the program). WHAT? How is walking around for one day taping people being mean to fat women (BIG EFFING SURPRISE) helping ANYONE except herself and her own career???

UPDATE: Also, while I'm on the subject, how in THE. HELL. is her getting stared at because she's beautiful and "in the public eye" even REMOTELY like an overweight woman being stared at by people who think she's disgusting and lazy and unworthy of human kindness and respect? Apples and oranges Vanessa, apples and oranges.

TAG! I'm it.

One of my most favoritest people, AmbImb, tagged me with this meme...so here goes:

1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post (I used 24th b/c 23rd only had two sentences).
3. Post the fifth sentence (or closest to it).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same thing.

Here's the sentence...heh. (Post here)

Paris Hilton is what happens when digestive processes go wrong.

I pick (and damn the fact that half the blogs I usually read have gone off the air...yeah, I'm looking at you Soupie and Larry!):

E. McPan
Legal Quandary
The Hot Librarian
The Namby Pamby Law Student
TSC Girl

I am not feeling particularly motivated to blog tonight, so I'm afraid this it for now. Back tomorrow.

Priorities.

Go to school and work on Crim Pro or watch The Gilmore Girls marathon on ABC Family Channel?

Yeah...I think we all know what I'll be doing today.

UPDATE: Don't you just LOVE the episode where Luke and Lorelai go on their first date and he reveals that he's saved that horoscope that she gave him in his wallet for eight years...that's right where I think she realizes that they are meant to be.

Sigh. How come real life isn't like that? I want a Luke. Or THE Luke. Either way.

It's a dirty job...

Just to prove that I would rather do ANYTHING than get caught up on my Crim Pro reading...

Today I:

Cleaned out and organized the three cabinets under my bathroom sink. Let me tell you, no one, and I mean NO ONE, even me, should still have over TWENTY bottles of nail polish that they bought in college when they are now over 30 years old. There were an additional thirty or so bottles I've picked up along the way. I kept about twenty others. When did I get over 100 bottles of nail polish?? For God's sake...why have I been hauling all this shit around? I threw away enough old makeup, nail polish, hair junk, and assorted lotions, potions, bath bubbles, and perfumes, to open up my own cosmetics store. It was totally ridiculous.

Cleaned out my closet. FIVE bags of clothes to be donated to Goodwill (goodbye fat clothes!). Summer clothes put away in bins. Workout clothes put in their own area. I still have some work to do in there, but there is A LOT more room.

Cleaned out my junk drawer and all the mail and bills and stuff in my kitchen and desk. I threw away tons of stuff, organized tons of other stuff, and have a huge bag of bills and receipts to take home when I drive there at Christmas...my parents will burn it all and I won't have to worry about shredding it. Yay!

I feel very productive!! Of course, I'm about 15 reading assignments behind in Crim Pro...but there's always tomorrow.

This is not a direct quote

I'm sad I didn't write it down, but I didn't feel like getting up for a pen, but I think Joel McHale on E!'s "The Soup" gets my vote for Quote of the Week.

While discussing Tyra Banks wearing a fat suit to try to discover how overweight women are treated by society, he said something to the effect of:

"Tyra Banks gets the hardhitting journalist award for experiencing firsthand just how horrible life can be for the temporarily obese."

HAHAHAHAHA. I wish I had written down what he said word for word, because it was really funny. If it comes on again this weekend I'll try to catch it. Seriously though...there is absolutely no way that she can experience in one day what an overweight woman experiences in a LIFETIME of rejection, rudeness, namecalling, and maltreatment. Also, as someone who has struggled with my weight and how I feel about it, I sincerely wish I had the option (especially when I was heavier than I am now) to just go home, rip off my fat suit, dust off my supermodel body and drive my Bentley off to whereever the hell supermodels go when they're not doing whatever it is that they do.

Fish are friends, not food.

I dreamt last night that Beefy McManstick Badass Spatula died. When I got up this morning he was still alive, but I'll be honest, he's not looking as good as I would hope. I have a sneaking suspicion that the Beefster is not long for this world.

In other news, the sun FINALLY came out this morning here after, literally, DAYS of oppressive darkness, wind, and rain. Thank God for a small respite from the dreariness, I was starting to feel sort of down and cranky. I have to say, if there was any way to take the spring, summer and fall here, the winter from, well, pretty much anywhere else (except maybe Alaska), and then transplant all those beautiful seasons into a place where the people were actually friendly, I would be the first one to sign on.

I have to go to school today and pick up my Crim Pro book, which I forgot to bring home last night. 30 minute bus ride each way to pick up one stupid book. Damnit.

Patriotism is not short, frenzied outbursts of emotion, but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime.*

It's Veteran's Day. I shouldn't have to tell people that, but yesterday at school all the law students who are in the military wore their uniforms and some girl in one of my classes goes "God, why are they all wearing their uniforms?" So, I butted in and said "Tomorrow is Veteran's Day." Her response? "Oh, really?" Yes, really. That is why you're getting the day off school. I suppose it's too much to ask to actually wonder WHY there's no classes and the Post Office is closed??

Anyway, if you know a veteran, I vote that you take some time to tell them "Thanks." Thanks for volunteering to serve their country, thanks for protecting our collective freedom, thanks for making it possible to write anything we want in our blogs and to stand on street corners and protest the war (if that's your thing). Thanks for serving with honor and selflessness in the face of knowing they might die to preserve the values and privileges we enjoy in this country.

This picture is of the Vietnam Women's Memorial. I cry every time I see it in person, and it hits very close to home because the woman that is looking up is waiting for a rescue helicopter to come and pick them up (the website suggests she might be looking up for a higher power, but, from what I've heard, in Vietnam the rescue helicopters WERE a higher power, so I'm going with my interpretation), and that's what my dad did in Vietnam (and for 30 years after). The motto of Air Rescue is "That Others May Live" and I think that the idea of "service before self" is what sets the military and those who serve apart from everyone else.

*Adlai Stevenson

He was a thief and he was a disturbed man. If we learn anything from him, it's do not steal and don't be disturbed.

Have you ever just found it nearly impossible to find your memo zen?

I feel like I work in this very interesting and exciting field of law, and when I try to reduce it to legal memo format, it instantly sucks any of the interest or excitement right out of the entire subject. Legal memos are like the world's largest killers of all that is happy and good.

This is a little ditty I'm working on called "The Legal Intern Can"...it's going to be set to the music from one of the most insidious and awful children's songs ever, "The Candy Man Can." Anywhere it doesn't make sense I'm going to claim is slant rhyme. I don't acutally know what slant rhyme is, but I think it's for when your song parody sucks hardcore ass but you don't want it to be your fault.

The Legal Intern Can

Who can take a subject,
That's int'resting and new?
Put it in a memorandum, make it boring through and through…
The legal intern can, the legal intern can,
The legal intern can 'cause she writes but doesn't understand
and makes the whole thing suck…

This is almost enough to pay off my law school loans...

H/t Blonde Justice, and Half-Cocked (where I originally saw it but forgot to follow up).

My blog is worth $58,712.16.
How much is your blog worth?

In lieu of writing something substantive...here's a meme.

Stolen from E. McPan because I thought it seemed like fun. Note: I wrote this last night...just in case you're wondering why I'm lounging the day away in my pajamas.

10 FAVORITES

Favorite Color: Pink. Duh.
Favorite Food: It's a close call between ice cream and pizza...I'm assuming beer and Diet Coke don't count?
Favorite Month: January...the month of my glorious birth
Favorite Song: Knees of My Heart -- Jimmy Buffett...or maybe Tin Cup Chalice...or maybe...
Favorite Movie: Real Genius. Or possibly Secretary. But it could be Office Space. I'm terrible at picking just one thing! Don't pigeonhole me people!
Favorite Sport: Tiger Woods Golf
Favorite Season: Fall
Favorite Day of the week: Happy Hour. Oh, day...Friday I guess.
Favorite Ice Cream Flavor: Ben and Jerry -- The Full Vermonty
Favorite Time of Day: Evening nautical twilight...right between dusk and dark

9 CURRENTS

Current Mood: Worried.
Current Taste: Bad...but then, I always have bad taste. I got married in Chuck Taylors for God's sake.
Current Clothes: Flowered pajama bottoms, t-shirt.
Current Desktop: A Happy Bunny cartoon that says "Hi, Cram it!"
Current Toenail Color: Something sort of electric purple-y.
Current Time: 10:27pm.
Current Surroundings: A nice clean apartment, due to the fact that the apartment police are doing my annual "you aren't trashing the place, are you?" inspection tomorrow.
Current Thoughts: I wish someone would email me. I wish that my ex-husband wasn't reaching out from beyond the divorce and jacking with my life.

8 FIRSTS

First Best Friend: M.
First Kiss: Here it is.
First Screen Name: Oh man, I have no idea!
First Pet: Mandy, the best black lab a little girl could ever try to ride or forcibly remove the tail from.
First Piercing: Earlobes
First Crush: Mike Last Name Started With An "S" But I Can't Remember It Now
First CD: Midnight Oil - Blue Sky Mining

7 LASTS

Last Cigarette: Probably when I was in the Air Force...I never actually smoked one but sometimes, with enough tequila, I could be made to hold one in my mouth and blow smoke rings.
Last Drink: Two vodka tonics, about two hours ago.
Last Car Ride: My friend and her boyfriend brought me home after the whole "falling down" incident the other night.
Last Kiss: After my friend's wedding. What a mistake. The kiss, not the wedding...the wedding I think was fabulous!
Last Movie Seen: I watched about half of "Hitch" the other day before turning it off in disgust because it was so horrible.
Last Phone Call: M. called me this afternoon to see how the whole FBI thing went.
Last CD Played: Sublime Acoustic: Bradley Nowell and Friends

6 HAVE YOU EVERS

Have You Ever Dated One Of Your Best Guy/Girl Friends: Yes. A guy friend I mean...not a girl friend, but only because M. is already married! :)
Have You Ever Broken the Law: Yes
Have You Ever Been Arrested: No
Have You Ever Skinny Dipped: Yes
Have You Ever Been on TV: I don't think so
Have You Ever Kissed Someone You Didn't Know: Yes

5 THINGS

Thing You're Wearing: Didn't I already answer this? I'm wearing my Swiss Army watch, which I love more than anything...that's in addition to my pajama pants and t-shirt. I'm a style icon don'cha know.
Thing You've Done Today: Yeah, gotten grilled by the FBI...I dare someone to beat that!
Thing You Can Hear Right Now: My neighbor's stereo.
Thing You Can't Live Without: Diet Coke first thing in the morning, by 9am or else I die!
Thing You Do When You're Bored: Blog.

4 PLACES YOU'VE BEEN TODAY

1. Home
2. School
3. A bar
4. The FBI office

3 PEOPLE YOU CAN TELL ANYTHING TO

1. M.
2. M.
3. M.

2 CHOICES

1. Black or White: Black
2. Hot or Cold: Cold for weather, hot for water and men.

1 THING YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:

Write a novel. Have kids.

Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiice!

So, yesterday the Guacamole Kid and I were waiting for the light to change so we could cross the road. We waited and waited and finally just decided to go. Apparently the guy on the other side of the street saw us go and figured "hey, why not" and started crossing towards our side. As we passed him in the crosswalk, GK turns to him and goes "Jaywalker!"

It was so funny.

You'll never hear me say getting divorced was a bad idea.

So, I spent about an hour and a half in the company of the FBI this afternoon answering questions. I think what they really wanted was to find out if I knew anything specifically related to the crimes he's accused of (NO!) or if I had ever known him to commit those types of crimes while we were married (NO!). So, although I found the interview to be fairly invasive (lots of questions about our sex life and related stuff...he is accused of sex crimes after all), I answered honestly and tried to remember as much as I could -- I have to say, it's hard to remember stuff that happened 10 years ago. I asked if they thought I'd have to get involved further, like at the trial or whatever, and they said they didn't think so since the only thing I really know about is him being a shitty husband, which is, sadly, not a crime.

So, here's to hoping that I'm done with this mess for awhile. The ex will be coming to trial in the upcoming months, so I will probably make an attempt to say something about that once it's done as closure for all of you that have emailed me and left comments on the story this summer...everyone was so invested in my story and I really appreciate that!

Is that your badge or are you just happy to see me?

The FBI wants to talk to me about my ex-husband...you remember him.

Shit.

Shit.

I do NOT want to be involved...in fact, I am not involved because I haven't heard from or seen him in years. But still. Shit.

All fired up and no place to go.

Author's Note: This post was originally written by me in May and I found it in draft form while searching through my posts for some other thing I had written. Apparently I was DEEPLY pissed off about something that law school did to me, although now I can't recall what...frankly, I'm deeply pissed off about law school on a pretty regular basis. But, I wrote this VERY LONG and VERY VITRIOLIC rant and, in hindsight, I think it's kind of interesting to look back and see how I was feeling on whatever bad day this was. So, now that I don't remember why I was angry, I'm going to post it.
****************************************************
Why do we, law students, allow our system to work like this?

Why do we allow Career Services Offices to serve the needs of only some unknown percentage of the student poplulation? 100% of us pay tuition, so why do less than 100% of us get the help we need in finding employment? Why do I personally tolerate an office that tells me to take my Air Force experience off my resume or limit it to one or two sentences because it's hard for employers to understand and so they won't even read it? Are employers really so moronic that they either can't understand military experience or don't recognize the extreme value in hiring someone with it? I sincerely hope not! Is CSO really so moronic that they expect me to believe that the problem is with the employers not understanding it, rather than the CSO personnel not understanding it? Once again, I sincerely hope not!

Why do we allow ourselves to be told, over and over again, that only some X%, the Law Review Elite, are worthy of the "best" jobs...and the rest of us, with our previous careers, our life experience, our post-graduate degrees, our management skills, our great interpersonal skills, are out of luck? I am absolutely positive that people on Law Review are extremely intelligent individuals with wonderful writing, organizational, and time management skills, and that these traits are in large part why employers look so highly upon people who can claim Law Review on their resume. However, is it only 10% of students that possess these traits? Do I *not* possess them by virtue of the fact that I chose not to do the write-on competition, or even if I had done the write-on but didn't make the cut? The mantra is, if an employer doesn't care about you and your previous work experience, you don't want to work for them anyway. You know what, how do I know that? Maybe I DO want to work for them! Maybe that employer, save the one yahoo who is screening resumes, is the perfect employer for me, and between CSO telling me to cut all my previous career experience off my resume, and my lack of Law Review (or Moot Court Honor Board or whatever), I'm not even getting a shot.

Why do we allow our educational system to be based on a grading system that is skewed at best, and completely arbitrary at worst? Let's face it, in terms of the"curve", the fact that 50 people in a class can come within a couple of points of each other with some receiving a "good" grade and some receiving a "bad" grade seems insane. There isn't any evidence that I've seen so far that the grading system is anything more than a joke in many instances. What would happen if professors were forced to give out the grades people actually deserve? I don't know if law school grades are as ridiculous and arbitrary as many people believe...I've been told more than once that it's my own sour grapes talking since I don't make super-fabulous grades. Maybe it's true. But, I looked at the curves for last quarter's classes in my Academic Services office a couple weeks ago. Three professors gave grades of less than a B-. Three. The grade that I am most proud of in law school came in a class where there was no curve and I was absolutely confident the professor would not pass me if I didn't deserve it. I respect him immensely, he never pulled any punches with us as a class, and I truly believe that every grade he gave out was deserved.

Why is the legal profession built on an educational system that is simply a procession of value-less hurdles we all jump over in herd-like fashion? Why do we not demand that our educational process reflect the type of training that we all apparently recognize is necessary and yet seems to be totally lacking? Why aren't we learning to write properly? Why are we taking closed book exams using rote memorization? Will any of us ever help a client on a complex issue without looking up something? I doubt it...I hope not! Why aren't we focusing on learning to speak in an articulate and insightful manner? Why are professors still using the fabled Socratic Method, which, in practice at least, consists of them asking questions, looking around at all the students staring intently down at their laptops, and then answering the question themselves? I have professors in whose classes I would never dream of firing up the internet or not paying attention, some use Socratic and some don't, but all of them are organized, attentive to the needs of the class, knowledgeable on the subject matter, aren't afraid of the students, are willing to demand certain standards be adhered to, and seem to understand that the student body in 2005 has different needs and expectations than they did 40 years ago. This isn't your grandfather's law school class!

I guess what I'm saying, or, more to the point, asking, is: Why do we do this to ourselves? We agonize over whether to write-on or not to write-on, and whether we'll ever get a job if we choose to forego some of the traditional law school rites of passage. We worry about what Tier our school is in, and pay hundreds of dollars for help in LSAT preparation...some people pay for help with personal statements...PERSONAL statements written by someone else!!! We stress about our grades and how we stack up not only to our classmates, but to hundreds of thousands of law students in hundreds of other schools in dozens of other other states and countries. We berate ourselves for not being the best, doing the best, going to the best school, getting the best job, or having the best resume building blocks. We participate in a process that takes hundreds of diverse people and, through the wonder of cookie-cutter technology, turns them into a line of cogs trundling down a conveyor belt and dropping into a white bucket with black letters that says "FIRM." We wonder why our profession is rife with alcholism, adultery, drug abuse, and depression. And, we do it all to ourselves! We make up this industry, each one of us as an individual, and we allow this to happen.

This is my rant.

It's like flipping a coin, blazer = good day, no blazer = homicidal maniac

UPDATE: After all of this stress over the stupid suit, my interview got cancelled. In other news, I made it to the final round in the interview process for the D.C. job.

I am heading to the drycleaners right now to pick up "my blazer." We don't actually know that this is my blazer, but that's what they told me on the phone last night. Of course, they also tried to tell me that a Nabisco Sweatshirt was mine too...as if.

I'm hauling my suit to school today and I'm going to change right before my interview...I just can't face a whole day teetering around on high heels and running my pantyhose. I'm in no mood, as my mom would say.

Also, when I get back from the cleaners I'm going to call the FBI and see what they want with me. Sadly, the chances that whatever they want is going to turn out to be a good story is pretty much slim to none, and slim's out of town. I'll probably spend an hour answering a bunch of questions about one of my friends...which is cool, but doesn't do justice to the FBI hunting you down at your parents house and scaring your poor mother half to death.

This is why we can't have nice things.

The scene: The drycleaners near my house, right after I got home from work today.

The people: Me, the Drycleaning Lady (DL), the Owner of the Drycleaning place (O).

Me: "Hi, I'm here to pick up my suit!"

DL: "OK, here it is"

Me: "Uhhhhhh."

DL: "What? Not your suit?"

Me: "Well, that's my dress, that's my sweater, but my blazer is missing."

DL: "This not your blazer?" *Points to SWEATSHIRT hanging on hangar in my drycleaning bag*

Me: "That's a sweatshirt. I had a blazer. A black blazer. It goes with this dress...it's a two piece suit."

DL: "No, this is yours!"

Me: "NO, THIS is a SWEATSHIRT! I had a BLAZER! For a SUIT!"

DL: "So, you're saying this not yours?"

Me: "Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying. I am missing a black suit blazer. Where is my blazer?"

DL: "Well, I guess it's not done yet."

Me: "But, the other pieces are done, so doesn't it make sense that it's done but that it's in the bag where this sweatshirt is supposed to be?"

DL: "No, is not possible! Not possible that they could get mixed up!"

Me: "CLEARLY IT IS FREAKING POSSIBLE! LOOK AT THAT SWEATSHIRT IN MY BAG! ALSO, WHO DRYCLEANS A NABISCO SWEATSHIRT???"

DL: "Well, I think you come back tomorrow?"

Me: "See, that's not going to work because I have an interview tomorrow and I HAVE to wear this suit!" *This is true, I do have an interview tomorrow and it is the only suit that fits me right now*

DL: "If you come back 7:30am, we can look then, maybe we will find."

Me: "Is the Blazer Fairy going to drop it off in the dead of the night?? NOOOOOO! I need to know where that blazer is! I HAVE AN INTERVIEW!"

DL: "Well, can I call my boss? You can talk to the owner?"

Me: "Sure, whatever."

O: "Hello. She says your jacket isn't done on time?"

Me: "No, the issue isn't that my jacket isn't done on time...it's that my jacket is missing, you have no idea where it's at, and there is no way to track it."

O: "Well, I am sorry. Perhaps you can come back on Friday?"

Me: "ABSOLUTELY NOT! NO! NO! NO! I used to work in a drycleaners for a LONG TIME and I know how these things work! You take the tags off for the customer, which I'm sure you think is nice, but it means that we can't track the customer this sweatshirt belongs to and figure out if they have my blazer. I NEED that blazer!"

O: "Oh, well, you worked at drycleaner, so you know how it is. Just come back in the morning."

Me: "I don't want to come back in the morning, I want someone to get off their ass and find my suit RIGHT NOW!"

O: "I am sorry, I understand you need the blazer, but these things happen...there is nothing I can do until tomorrow."

Me: "OH MY GOD! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? There is definitely something you can do! You could come here and look through everything until you find it, you could tell the girl who's here to show me every black blazer in the store until I find mine. There are LOTS of things you could do!"

O: "Well, we do have one blazer that isn't claimed. Maybe you could wear that tomorrow and then we could find yours?"

*DL shows me HIDEOUS blazer, no lapel at all, gold buttons...it's truly vile*

Me: "Never mind. I'll just...I don't know...figure something out."

O: "I am very sorry. I will try to find tomorrow!"

Me: "Yeah whatever."

*At this point I grab my bag of clothes, tell them I will be back tomorrow, and just walk out...I don't even THINK about paying*

About 3o minutes later the phone rings.

DL: "Uh, hello, E. Spat?"

Me: "Yes!"

DL: "We find your jacket and I just wanted to let you know you can pick it up in the morning."

Me: "I'll come by right now and pick it up."

DL: "Uh, well, it's not clean yet...we will clean tonight and then you can pick up in the morning..OK???"

Me: "Alright, whatever. I'll be there at 7:30am sharp. Thank you." *gigantic sigh*

If this was the only thing that happened today it would be enough, but of course it's not.

Did you ever forget your cell phone when you left the house in the morning?

Did you ever come home from a horrible altercation at the dry cleaners and have two new messages?

Was one of them from you parents letting you know the FBI is looking for you?

Was one from the FBI looking for you?

Was it ever too late to get in touch with the FBI to find out why they're looking for you?

Did you ever sincerely pray that you didn't do something in violation of federal law that you were too drunk to even remember?

Yeah, me neither.

I am sure it's probably a security clearance investigation for one of my many military/federal government employee friends...but still.

I'm going to bed. First, ice cream...then bed. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.

Comfort food.

For dinner I am making homemade macaroni and cheese, french bread (not homemade as, sadly, I have the anti-bread gene), some veggies and Diet Coke (duh!). I'm so happy...I'm going to finish my book, indulge all my wanton carbohydrate-y desires, and watch all my shows. God, I love Sunday nights, except for the whole "Monday" thing. And the fact that I didn't finish the memo I promised my boss tomorrow. But, the good news is that it will still be there to worry about in the morning. I also bought a plane ticket to go home for Thanksgiving today. One-way BABY! Because I'm driving back in my Brand New 1999 Mercury Sable. Don't hate me because I have a kick-ass car. Quit laughing.

Like a slip and fall, only with no one to blame but myself.

Last night walking into a restaurant to have dinner with some friends, I fell down in a gigantic mud puddle. It has been raining here for DAYS...I'm about to start building an Ark...that's how much rain we've had. So, in walking down the sidewalk, which was covered in a couple of inches of water, I didn't notice a HUGE EFFING CRATER right in the middle. I stepped in said crater, and that's how I ended up in a restaurant, eating dinner, with wet muddy hair, wet muddy jeans, and blood pouring out of my hand (well, maybe it was trickling, but I think I deserve to embellish because you should have seen all the mud that came out of my hair when I got home and showered...GROSS!!!). When I got up this morning my knee was all swollen and black and blue.

Now, I'm not saying it wasn't funny because it sure as hell was. But until you've been flat on your face in a six-inch deep mud puddle in 40 degree weather in front of a popular nightspot teeming with observers, you just haven't lived. Also, I think the cut on my hand is going to get infected...it's all red and icky today...God only knows what was in that water...if you don't hear from me for a few days I probably succumbed to the Bubonic Plague or Rocky Mountain Spotted Owl Fever or something.

So, I am settling in for a day of reading, watching my new Netflix movies, eating snacks, and applying ice packs and Neosporin to my various wounds.

The memo I have due to my boss tomorrow is just going to have to wait. Priorities people, priorities.

Oh come on man. You got no lady fingers, fuzz buttles, snicker bombs, church burners, finger blasters, gut busters, zippity do das, or crap flappers?

Most all of my dating experiences involve me getting all excited about a guy who says, after a first date, that he’ll call and that he’d really like to see me again despite the fact that, clearly, this is not going to happen. I feel so happy and hopeful despite the fact that I know, or should know, better. After all, isn’t there something that “they” say about learning from past history?

Generally this, the days and weeks following the first date, is the point where I never hear from the guy again. Sometimes, just to break the monotony, a man might call one more time before he disappears completely, never to be seen or heard from again. It’s like they go into the Dating Protection Program. Maybe that’s it! Maybe there’s a whole town somewhere made up of men that I’ve dated, all of them with just the tiniest bits of plastic surgery to disguise their identities...the holders of newly minted documentation for their newly minted lives.

Wouldn’t it be funny if somewhere, in some tiny town in middle America, there was a town where all the men who never called me back live, safe in the knowledge that not only will they never have to endure a second date with me, but they will never be forced to own up to their actions or explain why, in the grand scheme of things, I wasn’t even worth a telephonic, or even an email, rejection.

I imagine this small town is like so many others that we’ve all seen in movies and read about in books...remember Sleeping With The Enemy??? Everyone knows each other’s business, people have forged lifelong friendships, and there are few newcomers. The locals, over Blizzards at Dairy Queen, remark on their luck in getting some occasional fresh blood and then go right back to discussing The Farmer’s Almanac. They seldom wonder why all the newcomers are men, and why these men have such generic and one-dimensional pasts...almost like their lives started on the day they strode into town.

There’s Kevin, he just hung up his shingle as the town lawyer. No one is sure where he came from, but he talks like a Yankee and his hands have clearly never seen manual labor. The people in town, many of them farmers and laborers, aren’t sure if they trust him yet, but he’s trying hard to win them over with his smooth talk and his outlandish promises. He can often be found at the local grocery store searching in vain for the imported olives and not so subtly flashing his Rolex Oyster. Only I know how hard it must have been to leave the Alfa Romeo behind. At least he got to keep the Rolex...I wonder whether the Dating Protection Program let him keep his Yale Law School diploma or if, as part of his new history, he’s forced to tell people he went to night school at the University of Akron? I sincerely hope it’s the latter.

And David. Sweet, sweet David. Good thing for him he’s an electrician, so, unlike a lawyer, at least he’s useful! When people ask him where he learned his craft he’s evasive. As a matter of fact, a few especially savvy people have noticed he’s evasive all the time. What could he be hiding? A wife and kids would be my guess. Well, not a guess so much as 20/20 hindsight.

Ooh, a bakery! All this reminiscing has made me so hungry! Would you look at that, it’s Steve the bagel guy! I watch him dish out bagels and pastries to people who are bustling about, trying to get all their errands done before they have to be back to work. I wonder if he ever gets sad when he thinks about how he used to own his bagel bakery? Does he ever think about the girl he used to give a free bagel to every Friday until he finally got the nerve to ask her out? Does he ever ask himself “Hey self, it took you SO LONG to get the nerve to ask her out, how come you never called her again?”

I wonder if I walk around long enough whether I’ll find the repository of men who didn’t even make it to the first date. The guys in bars, grocery stores, gas stations, classes, places of employment, and sometimes just the plain old street, who asked me for my number and then never used it. In my heart I hope they are made to sit at tables all day in a portable trailer behind the community college writing my number hundreds and hundreds of times on screechy old blackboards, sneezing from the chalk dust and wishing they had only asked for that which they would or could actually use.

The list could go on and on. I am dating repellant. I am the sender of men to the Dating Protection Program.

Team Natural Selection strikes again...I don't this one is going to be breeding anytime soon!

Have I ever steered you people wrong? No I have not.

This stunning piece (heh), entitled "Sam's Buttrocket" will make me you laugh so hard that Diet Coke will come out my your nose.

Word to the wise...there is moderate nudity...I mean, it's a guy with a bottle rocket in his ass...so, you know. Also, make sure the sound is on because the screaming like a girl part is where it gets really funny. And when I say funny, I mean this is the funniest thing I've seen since that kid singing the Zuma Zuma song or whatever it was called.

If anyone cares, this is my 1300th post.

(h/t Steve for emailing me this prize-winning study on human stupidity)

I guess the atmosphere that I've tried to create here is that I'm a friend first and a boss second, and probably an entertainer third.

The Office is the best show on TV right now...this season has really been exceptional. Lost has been pretty damn good too.

That will be all.

The big O - prah

Overheard on Oprah this afternoon in reference to whether men should be threatened by women having...uh...sex toys.

A woman in the audience goes "Heck yes men should be threatened by toys. Those toys can do things that men just can't!"

Heh.

Oh Rexy, you're SOOOOOOOOOOOO sexy!

Today someone at school who I haven't hardly seen all year came up to me and said "Hey, is it just my imagination or have you really slimmed down?"

HELL NO IT'S NOT YOUR IMAGINATION!!!

Yay for me! *pats self on back*

I've got a couple of other things on my mind that I'd like to write about, but I'm not feeling super articulate today...I think I'll ruminate just a bit longer.