I am a bottomless pit

I didn't eat any Peeps today (only because there weren't any handy), and yet, it was exactly that kind of day -- the kind where you know that if you wouldn't be ashamed you could just sit at home and eat, and eat, and eat all day long. Pizza and ice cream and candy and nachos and beer...my God, it's like a fantasy (well, technically it is since I don't actually have most of this stuff on hand...boo hoo!). I don't know why some days are like that, but it's ridiculous. Thank heavens I had to go to school today or I would probably be dying right now of a heart attack, or gout, or...I don't know...embarassment. They'd have to cut out my apartment wall to get me out.

I really want someone to explain to me why this happens sometimes, the insatiable hungries. And no, there's no drugs involved...sadly, I have no excuse. And also sadly, I have no more ice cream.

First thing tomorrow - the gym. I swear.

TGIT

Wow, I can't even begin to tell you how freaking happy I am it's Thursday. I ended up having to spend some time today reworking my schedule, and the one class I REALLY want to get into is super-small and I'm 8th on the waitlist...so it's not really looking good. The one I signed up for in the meantime sounds interesting though -- so at least there's that.

Other than schedule drama, there just isn't much going on. I already feel behind and it's only the first week...what a shock. I've got plans for tonight, tomorrow, tomorrow night, and Saturday night, so at least I'm not lonely or sitting around going "gee, what should I watch on TV tonight?" I still don't have a job.

Overheard in voir dire

Tonight in (mock) voir dire:

Lawyer: "Does anyone have any experience working with children?"
Juror #5 raises hand
Lawyer: "Juror #5, what do you do with children?"

I was lucky enough to be given the feedback that I should stop acting like it was an inquisition -- quit being so direct. I feel like I spent four years in the military being trained to be as direct as possible, and it's SO HARD to turn that off, besides the fact that it's sort of a natural part of my personality to be pretty straightforward and direct. I know full well it can be abrasive at times, but I REALLY thought I was doing a good job of being conversational. Perhaps this is a lesson in my "real life" as well. Note to self: drink ALOT more ALL the time...this makes you seem funny and not abrasive, at least to you!

Problem solved.

Putting the Psycho in Psychoanalyze!

I had the weirdest dream last night...well, maybe not the weirdest one ever (that was the one with the goat and the candle...oh never mind), but pretty strange nonetheless.

So, I'm going to open it up to interpretation.

First, I was living in a house with our Law School Psychologist, we'll call him Dr. B. Now, Dr. B is an attractive guy but I've met him like twice in three years and as far as I know I don't have any weird mental thing going on with him either consciously or subconsciously (which I guess I wouldn't know about, but whatever). What I'm saying is that there are a few men here, both professors and students, that I could imagine having appear in one of my dreams, and Dr. B isn't one I would expect. But, I'll leave all of that to your interpretive skillz.

Next, the whole house was filled with snakes. Like, I would try to walk across the room and a snake would go right by me on the floor and I would freak out and jump on the bed, only to realize that there were snakes all in the covers and under the sheets (mind out of gutter, NOW), and slithering out from under the bed and everything. There were big snakes and small ones, and all different colors (seriously, out of the gutter!), and I didn't have a clear sense whether they were poisonous at all, but I was scared of them.

Lastly, Dr. B and I were trying to catch the snakes and throw them out of the room using tongs. Like the kind you use to grasp a corn cob out of boiling water (for lack of a better example...why does this shit just pop into my head?). So, I would try to grab the tail of the snake as it disappeared under my pillow, and I would always miss it, and then like three more would come back out the other side. Dr. B wasn't so much a participant in all of this as he was just there and I recognized that he was also battling the snakes, but we weren't really talking much.

I had trouble falling asleep last night, so the two hours of sleep I got were totally dedicated to this nonsense.

Now, discuss.

My life, where truth is stranger than fiction....

In Trial Advocacy class we are working on voir dire this week. This is important because we have to bring an "outside person" to class so that there will be enough people on the "jury" to make it interesting. If you bring a law student, they have to either be who they were before law school or use a made-up persona. My friend and I both needed someone, so I went to hers tonight and she's coming to mine tomorrow. OK, now you have the important background.

The case we're doing for our criminal trial this quarter is a self-defense case, a woman who murdered her (maybe) abusive, (maybe) alcoholic husband and who may herself have been having a (maybe) affair. Anyway, obviously voir dire covered the following issues in depth:

Domestic violence
Guns/Attitudes about guns
Adultery

Strangely, I hadn't thought much of this when I walked in all prepared to use my "before law school" self to answer questions. I was Juror #4.

"Do any of you own a gun?" That's a yes for Juror #4!

"Have any of you been the victim of domestic violence?" Another yes for Juror #4!

"Have any of you ever been effected by adultery in your marriage or intimate relationships?" Yup, me again!

"Do any of you have strong beliefs about gun ownership?" OOOOHHHH, pick me! Pick me!

"Does anyone have experience being intimidated or abused by someone under the influence of alcohol?" Well, duh!

Soooooo, basically, using my real life from before law school, I was the Problem Juror. In some aspects though I felt like the only real person. I mean, this is the TVPNM, so I guess I expect (generally) to be the only person in any given room who's a gun owner, but it was weird to have to answer all these personal questions -- it kind of made me feel very adult or something to be the only one in the room with any apparent back history in terms of these issues.

Also, just a tip. If you are a (mock)lawyer, and you're doing voir dire, and someone tells you that their job is "Air Force officer," the appropriate response is probably not "Oh, how do you like it?" If you're going to ask every other person what their job entails, why not me? How else will you find out that my Air Force job is very much like being a prosecutor, that I impose military punishment on people who I have determined are in violation of military law, and that I'm not very defense friendly (in general)? Huh...perhaps a question or two would be in order. But, to be fair, time was very limited and everyone was ready to go. I just was sensitive to it because it happened last year too where people asked what I did and when I said "Air Force officer" they just went "Oh OK" but then asked the person who said "Student" like 400 questions about their major and coursework and stuff. I wonder how many people think that "military officer" is a COMPLETE job description? Like, all military officers just sit behind desks doing the exact same thing with no differentiation whatsoever. I know I'm overly sensitive about this because I grew up in the military and have never NOT known it, but it's always kind of shocking to me how little the general public knows about it.

Are you boys building an interociter?

As it turns out, I should be FINDING job openings and APPLYING to them. Well...good to know.

My search is over!

Well, I don't need to look for a job anymore. There's an opening for a "foaling attendant" in my parent's town. I can live at home and make $7.50/hr to stick my hand up a horse's ass and help horse babies come out in big gushy blobs of grossness. I'm crossing "buy resume paper" right off my shopping list.

UPDATE: Wait. Never mind. Someone is looking for an "Exp. Tree Climber." GAME OVER BITCH! I can climb a tree like nobody's freaking business.

UPDATE2: I could do this one, I mean, God, I FULLY have a high school diploma!!

"ADULT SHOP NOW HIRING Sales Associate Part and Full time positions available. Graveyard? High School Diploma required. Cashier experience preferred. $7.50 to start Apply at 261 E. Barnett."

First day of the last quarter of my life.

Went back to class today. Eh.

It's hard to get excited in my current mood, which is somewhere between "Utter and Total Despair" and "Complete Effing Apathy." But, so far my classes seem cool, so...ummm...cool. The only downside so far is realizing my Thursday class is going to conflict with the rowing class I signed up for -- gonna have to figure that out somehow.

I have a meeting tomorrow with my "career coach" up in Career Services. Not by choice but because I got an email today demanding that any 3L without a job (FOR SHAME!) go and see the dean of career services. I feel like I am getting called to the principle's office to explain my errant ways. "I don't know Dean! I HAVE tried to get a job! I HAVE! No I didn't staple Johnny Goodstudent to the toilet seat in the mens bathroom! NO!"

So yeah. Not much to report. Tomorrow I have time to get back in the gym and it's not a moment too soon -- mentally and physically.

File under "F" for "Fucking Unbelievable"

This article at AskMen.com suggests the six "craftiest" ways to tell your "girl" that she needs to lose some weight. They are so asinine, insulting, and ridiculous that I will go ahead and post them in their entirety (my comments in red) so we can all see what a jackass the guy that wrote these is without even having to click the link:

1- "I don't like the way that outfit looks on you anymore."
Every woman has a go-to getup (Really? God, I must not have gotten the memo, good thing this guy is so schooled in the ways of women). If you don't know it, you don't know her well enough to discuss her flabby stomach (NOBODY knows me well enough to discuss my flabby stomach. Not even my doctor. Just don't). The only thing that could ever change the way an outfit looks is the way it fits. Tell her you aren't sure why it looks odd, suggest a looser knit, and watch her forever skip the nachos with cheese (Or, alternatively, watch yourself never get laid again. Whichever).

2- "I can't get over how fat I feel."
Women have been commiserating with each other for eons about the thickness of their thighs. If you launch a pity-party of your own about how heavy you feel, and let her know at every turn, she'll become fat-obsessed by osmosis (Who doesn't want to date someone that's fat-obsessed? Doesn't that sound super-fun!?). Women have been doing it to each other since the dawn of public washrooms. It's so awesome how easy women are to figure out. Since the dawn of time, we've been exactly the same and will never, ever, ever, ever change, so why bother thinking of them as individuals?

3- "Your friend isn't nearly as attractive since she gained that weight."
Be careful. Delivery is everything. Pick her homeliest friend and let your most outrageous BS fly (Nothing says "Hey, I'm a trustworthy guy" like BS'ing your girlfriend and picking on her "homely" friends). Pick an attractive pal, and you'll be explaining your wandering eye till you give her a ring (You know how the bitches are...always angling for that ring!). Focus on the improbable target, and she'll be thinking that if you find her bookworm buddy hefty, perhaps a diet should be on her docket. Nothing makes me want to lose weight more than finding out my boyfriend is a misogynistic piece of shit who rags on any of my friends he doesn't consider to be fuck-worthy...usually, right after the breakup, I hit the gym and think about him when I've lost 10 pounds and start screwing a guy 10 times hotter than he could ever imagine being.

4- "I have a new female trainer at the gym."
She'll never suggest fewer trips to the gym, but it will drive her bonkers to think that another woman is spotting your squat thrusts. She'll sign up and show up within 24 hours just to keep an eye on you. Ahhhhh...the sweet smell of trust in a relationship. I love nothing more than a guy I have to babysit 24 hours a day because he can't be trusted to be out in public by himself without trying to bed every woman he meets...well, judging by the article, probably only the thin ones he meets. Fatties need not apply!

5- "The saleswoman said it was for smaller women."
If you want your baby to shed some baby fat, spend a couple of bucks on a nice little fashion piece a couple of sizes out of her reach ("Honey...I got you this sexy man-g-string for Christmas! Well, yeah, it's a large. I know you're not a large! I was hoping that if I got something a couple of sizes out of your reach you could work on the places you're, well, you know...lacking"). If she is thin in your eyes, and the only thing telling her otherwise is a piece of clothing, she'll work morning, noon and night to fit into that cursed thing. So, if she's thin in your eyes, still make sure to give her clothes too small so she'll spend her entire life tortured by the thought that you don't find her sexually attractive or desirable. Boy, that'll be great for your sex life!

6- "Let's help each other lose a couple of pounds?"
Let's face it. If you tell your girlfriend to lose some weight, she'll withdraw your all-access pass to her wonderful folds (WHAT THE FUCK?). But an honest commitment to work together to become fitter and shed some unwanted girth can only be met with the excitement that your investment in her is the same as what she is willing to invest in you. This is the only suggestion that is even moderately non-offensive in this entire article.

Losing weight is no small task. Make her sure you're worth it

keep her thin (And isn't this the most important thing...you don't want her ballooning up and embarassing you! If worse comes to worse, you could always tie her fat-ass up in the basement and physically restrict her eating until she loses the weight, and that would probably help with getting laid too! BONUS!)

Remember men, to influence her decision to lose weight while avoiding any sore feelings is to make everything about you (Yes men, please don't forget, for even one moment, that it's all about you!!!). How you feel, what you think, what your opinion is; these are the things that will separate you just enough from the battle that is ultimately hers. The minute you make it about what you think she's doing wrong, you're dead meat, and we're all coming after you.

Weight loss takes time, so be patient. (Yeah, be patient. Just because you've been lying and conniving and manipulating is no reason to get greedy and demand instantaneous results!)

Yeah, so this is basically some of the most ridiculous crap I've ever seen in my life. Thankfully it came from AskMen.com, a site that has no journalistic intregrity or value whatsoever, and I'm pretty sure the author was one of their caveman readers, but God. God.

Weekly Law School Roundup #12 (?)

I'm actually not sure if this is number 12, I'll have to double check that. Such a slacker...seriously.

OK, here we go.

Shooting 'em down...Walking Tort style. (Camel Nose Under the Tent)

Drunk dialing Cella Bella style. (Cella Bellum)

And a couple on my partial "theme" for the week...job hunting:

Dear Sir, I have no job. (You Can't Get Arrested For Being Awesome)

OK, now panic. (Equal Process?)

You mean I have to pay these loans back? (Ambivalent Imbroglio)

Getting used to the rejection. (Frolics and Detours...her permalinks are broken, so head about four posts down to the March 1st entry)

The lighter side of rejection. (Magic Cookie)

OK, back to the regularly scheduled program.

Taking a beer order for the boss. (The Namby Pamby)

Super Smart Valley Girl. (The Bitter Law Student)

Participate in a very valuable survey to help a deprived law student decide which classic movie she needs to see most...it's sad when someone hasn't seen Goonies! (Neutral Zone Trap...helping out Frolics and Detours)

Alright, there's always a possibility I'll add more later, but thanks to the people who emailed me, and look for it next week at Evan Schaeffer's Legal Underground.

Roundup...there's still time.

Due to my meltdown last night (see post below), I am going to spend this morning out on a restorative walk with a couple of friends. That means you have a couple of more hours to send me links for the Roundup if you'd like. I have about five or six picked out already (with no theme, as usual), but I can always use more.

Whining

OK, here's the thing. If you're one of the people that has found a job, good for you. Congrats. Seriously. You probably have better grades than me, interview better than me, and/or are just more deserving of employment than me. The thing is, I am upset that I don't have a job. I'm unhappy. I'm depressed. I'm anxious. I wonder how I will pay my bills. How will I pay my rent? How will I pay my loans? I am stressed out because Career Services seems to REFUSE to help me almost as a matter of policy, because there is never anything listed on any of the job boards to even APPLY to, and logic would dictate that if I am not applying to anything I won't get anything, and because I wasted 8 months working for Big Government Entity only to get effed in the end because they have a hiring freeze and can't hire me and every firm I interview at, big or small, says "Hey, you know what? You'd be great in the government" and then sends me packing. I'm pissed off that people with little to no professional experience, and sometimes little to no actual personality, can get jobs, and I can't, even with four years as a military officer, awesome law school jobs, great recommendations, and decent (at least above the curve) grades. And a master's degree.

So yeah. When you all feel pissed that I am upset, or I'm not letting it go, or I get all weird and angsty when everyone is sitting around talking about their post-law-school-employment, I'm just telling you. There's a reason. My stomach hurts all the time. I feel like crying every time I think of having to go back and do some stupid job that I could have done before law school to pay the bills until I can find a law job, and how I just wasted three years of my life and $100K to get NOWHERE. I don't have anything in this city. My family isn't here. My husband left me less than a year before I started school and the only guy who apparently wanted to date me in this entire craptastic city dumped me, I don't have a job, and three years of my life are gone in a haze of people who weren't nice to me, classes I didn't understand, and crushing rejection on all fronts.

Yup. I'm upset. Unhappy. Pissed off. I'm sorry more people can't seem to understand what I'm going through here, but being in a black hole of debt with no discernable way out, and getting about three rejection letters a day, and being dumped and alone and lonely and poor just fucking sucks. It just does.

Madonna sucks.

I just thought you should all know that I think the leotard DOES NOT need to come back, which means that Madonna, that dirty whore, needs to quit wearing them in her videos. I'm not sure how many of you are old enough to remember the true heinousness of the leotard, but it was pervasive and all-encompassing. My mom had an entire collection of matching leotards and legwarmers for her aerobics classes (that she taught), and I used to put them on when she wasn't home and pine for the day I'd finally be old enough for my own leotards. PINK GLITTER! That was my dream. Do you see how sick that is??

When we lived in Korea my mom would get matching leotard sets HANDMADE for her body by tailors. It's very common for American military living in Korea to get handmade goods because it's so cheap. My dad has several hand-tailored suits, we all had handmade shoes and boots, jackets, shirts, etc. But honestly, LEOTARDS? My mom loved to watch "The 20-Minute Workout"...does anyone remember that?? So, she used to get leotards made with like the top half red, the bottom half blue, and a red and blue belt, and then red and blue striped legwarmers. Etc. You get the picture. And I idolized that shit.

Anyway, now Madonna is trying to bring back the leotard and she needs to quit because it's not good. Not good.

You mean there're rules? About how to behave? For LAWYERS?

I hate it when someone steals my Professional Responsibility final exam and tries to pass it off as news.

Jazz is fun.

Last night my friend took me and Ex-Roomie to a club to see his former piano teacher play in a jazz quartet and it was AWESOME! I'm totally in love with live jazz now and my friend has promised to bring me some good CD's to help me figure out what I like and what I want to be listening to. God, it was so great. All the musicians were amazing and, as always, I'm fully jealous of people who have musical talent (or any creative talent whatsoever). I can't wait to go again!

The only downside to the night was that Ex-Roomie had been feeling not so good all day, and pretty much five minutes after we walked in to the club, she headed for the bathroom and didn't come out for about 20 minutes. And when she did come out she looked pretty green...poor thing. We felt SO bad for her! Her boyfriend came to pick her up, but she was miserable and I know from personal experience there is just no worse feeling than being sick in public...especially when it's like the flu or food poisoning or something. If you're drunk and puking, well, you might deserve it. But when it just hits you and there's nothing you can do, it's always the most miserable and helpless feeling in the world. So, I'm going to call her later today, but I hope she's OK.

The great thing about today is that I FINALLY have an appointment to "take care" of my hair. And by "take care" I mean "HOLY SHIT where did all these gray hairs come from?" Plus I'm buying new running shoes today, and I have to go to Home Depot and find a new bathtub plug thingie since I can't find mine and I have about eleventy billion dollars worth of bath products I bought in Vancouver languishing in my bathrooom, begging me to use them.

Sunday it's my turn to do the Roundup -- if you're got good posts, know of good posts, etc., just email 'em on in!!!

I'm rowing my boat bitch!

I signed up for my rowing classes today. They start in about two weeks and are three times a week for about a month. At the end you are all certified to use the rowing club and equipment that the lessons are at. Ex-Roomie is hopefully taking them with me, but she still has to sign up. I'm really excited because I've always wanted to learn to row. Go me!

I'm looking at bar loans now. Recommendations?

Jazz tonight

Tonight I'm going to a jazz club with one of my very talented law school friends who is a jazz musician (I would say "on the side" but I think it's his true love, so maybe law school is "on the side"). His old piano teacher is playing, and a couple of us are going to get together and eat and watch the show. I'm excited because usually I hang out at pubs and stuff and I rarely get outside my little rut, so this should be really fun.

Aside from that, I have been just hanging around my house reading, eating, drinking Diet Coke, and watching TV...enjoying my spring break. I have to eventually go buy books and get some reading done, and I definitely have some things to do around the house, but I'm putting all that off until the last possible moment. I have an early class three days a week next quarter and I already know I am going to regret the fact that I've been sleeping late every day and staying up until 2am every night. When I have to get up at 6am next week, life is going to SUCK!

Not much else is going on I suppose. I'm just hanging around trying to stay out of trouble and keeping busy.

ACK!!!

OH MY GOD!!!! Russell "I Throw Phones" Crowe's band is on Jay Leno right now and it's SO FREAKING AWFUL. Oh my GOD. It's just so bad. So, so, so bad. Why do actors think they can sing? Why do models think they can act? Why can't everyone stay in their place?? It's SO BAD. I knew I should have just gone to bed immediately after the last post, but NOOOOOOO, I just HAD to check my email. Idiot.

Weird wine thoughts

Tonight I drank a bottle of wine and thought about weird relationship stuff. I was having dinner with a friend, and we got to talking about all sorts of "what if" type scenarios. "What if my ex could be the person I need him to be?" "What if I don't meet someone in time to have kids?" "What if I'm being too eager with the guy I just met and he's not worth it?"

It was fun, and as always, talking with someone else forced me to think outside the box (or the bottle) a little bit. One of the things I ALWAYS do is pursue instead of being pursued, seek approval instead of waiting to see if the other person is worthy of my approval, please instead of waiting to see if I will be pleased. I tend to be so straightforward and so practical that I don't realize the games people play, I never know what I *should* be doing based on modern dating standards, and I guess I just don't understand the rules so I often feel confused and just sort of discombobulated...if you will.

So yeah. I don't have a job, I have dragged out the situation with my ex FAR FAR FAR past it's expiration date even in the face of overwhelming evidence that no matter what it will never work out, and the new guy I just met is giving me a shady feeling that I'm not sure if I can trust or not...but I think maybe I can. I think the only choice at this point is to work on E. Spat and leave all this other shit behind because, as you can see, it's a mess and I just don't think that the constant search for love and approval and affection from others is working for me...after all, it hasn't worked for the past 31 years, right?

I can't remember where I'm going with this. I ate alot of cheese and drank alot of wine and I'm feeling weird and slightly melancholy but also hopeful and amused and insightful and ready and nervous and unsure. I am trying not to call the ex, and every day is a struggle. I stand by the fact that it's much harder to break up with someone when there's no real issue, no ill will, no problem that you can point to and say "AH HA! That's why I hate you!" Instead, it's more like "Eh...you're just not exactly right but I could probably live with you for at least awhile...I'm just not going to, but I could...maybe." And the new guy might be sketchy.

I hope the rowing class has boys. Cute boys. Boys with jobs. Non-sketchy, non-crazy, non-unsuitable boys. Or maybe even some cool girls I could be friends with who would take me places and talk about non-law stuff. Yeah, that would rock.

I'm rambling. I apologize. No more wine. Bedtime.

Where in the world is E. Spat?

Ex-Roomie and I headed up to Vancouver on Monday morning, super-excited to check into our hotel and get some shopping and drinking done. I had gotten us a hotel room on Expedia.com, and we were interested/slightly scared to see what our accomodations would be like. The drive was easy, and the weather was fantastic, so when we got there we were happy to just go straight out and start wandering around.

First, the hotel. It was nice, and the beds were definitely the most comfortable hotel beds I've ever slept on, which is saying something because obviously I've done alot of traveling. It was called the Georgian Court and was located right at the end of Robson Street, which is sort of the main shopping route through the city. It is directly across the street from BC Place Stadium, and is within walking distance of Yaletown, Gastown, Robson Street and Granville Street, although the area between the hotel and Chinatown/Gastown is VERY shady and we were glad we had left for dinner before it got dark.

We spent the entire afternoon shopping on Robson Street. There are tons of boutiques, chain stores, specialty food stores, restaurants and cafes, and both high-end and funkier unique little clothing and jewelry stores. I spent a TON of money at Lush. There's no better way to justify your expensive soap tastes than to convince yourself that you're getting a deal because of the exchange rate. Even though you don't know what the exchange rate is and even if you did you're too math-phobic to figure it out. I also LOVED the MAC store, which was huge, and the salesgirl helped me pick out *literally* the perfect lipstick. We went to a store with probably every different perfume known to mankind, but I forgot the name because my friend spent money there but I didn't. We went into the Sears on Robson to use the restroom and I was thrilled to see that apparently Sears in Canada carried Make Up For Ever, a brand that I buy here at Sephora but definitely isn't carried in American Sears stores (I recently bought the Diamond Powder).

So, after a FULL day of shopping, it was time to eat and drink. During the day we stopped and had lunch on Robson, but I forget the name of the place. It was a chain type place and I thought it was probably the Chili's of Canada, so I didn't bother to keep track. We also got gelato at this little place called Mondo Gelato that was REALLY good. We noticed also that there was a restaurant/bar on Robson called "Shenanigans Bar and Grill" and almost went in, but decided it didn't look good enough to eat at, even for the funny factor.

In the evening, we decided to head over to Gastown, which was SUPPOSEDLY the place where a bunch of bars would be. On a Monday night we knew it wouldn't be super-lively, but we were disappointed to find it was DEAD and also there weren't many bars to be had. We stopped first at a bar called The Irish Heather. It had a fun atmosphere, the bartenders were actually Irish (and very cute), and the beer was good (we both had Harp...so, you know...no surprises there). We decided to skip the food and find a place with a little more variety to eat at so we could both be happy.

We passed several bars but ultimately ended up standing in front of this place, Steamworks Brewing Company. Just based on the name we decided to go in and at least have some more beer, but the menu looked great so we ended up eating there as well. They have a decent selection of their own microbrew, and I have to say that the Cascadia Cream Ale was one of the better beers I've had in a long time. It was so smooth and soft, I felt like I was drinking cream soda or something. It was fantastic. Ex-Roomie had a Nirvana Nut-Brown Ale, and then a Pink Lemonade Martini, both of which she liked. She had lamb tenderloin for dinner, and I had a pasta dish with pan-seared prawns in it.

The waiter at Steamworks was so cute, and we told him how we were on spring break and wanted to go to some bars and with our check he included a list of some fun bars to go to. So, off we went.

First we headed to the Loose Moose. The atmosphere was pretty fun, but I wasn't SO impressed with the selection of beer on tap. Of course, I'm an admitted beer snob, so when I walk into a place that tries to convince me to drink Kokanee, I'm generally not so impressed. I want the best of all worlds, dive bar atmosphere but upscale beer choices. We sat at the bar and the bartender was kind of funny, but kind of obnoxious, and the guys at the bar were, well, very obnoxious, but funny too. One guy was some dude who just finished his master's degree in Sociology and is working in the same field that Ex-Roomie's dad works in, so they talked about that stuff for awhile and he ended up coming to the next bar with us.

After the Loose Moose, we walked across the street to El Furniture Warehouse, a Mexican restaurant/bar that had kind of a strange mixture of clientele and TV's showing skateboarding bloopers. We had with us Harvey of Loose Moose fame, and (for me) a surly disposition. We all got a beer and then Harvey and I proceeded to get into a shouting match about the US Military and American foreign policy. There is probably little that pisses me off more than talking about the military with people who have never been in it. On a theoretical level, obviously, anyone can understand what it's about. But, it's not the same. And, trying to convince me that the military is actually a racist, classist, sexist, horrible, terrible thing is probably not a great idea considering my background. And also if you're Canadian and you have no idea what you're talking about. So, needless to say, Harvey left after his one beer. Thank God.

By the time we finished at Furniture Warehouse, it was time to head back to the hotel. I had REALLY wanted to go to Doolin's Pub, which was across the street, but there just wasn't time.

In the morning, the one thing we wanted to do was go to a crepe place that Ex-Roomie had discovered on her first trip to Vancouver (but which had been closed on Monday, as many places there are). We walked all the way up Robson to Bretagne Crêperie, a really cute little cafe/creperie that had the most fantastic crepes I've had since I went to Paris a few years ago. I had "The Canadian," which had eggs, bacon and cheese. Ex-Roomie had one with ham, cheese, and some kind of sauce in it. Then we split one with sugar and butter. All three together only cost us about $10 Canadian, which is NOTHING for what we got!

On the way back to the hotel, Ex-Roomie stopped at Daniel-Le Chocolat Belge to get her boyfriend a gift, and we had some fantastic chocolate. They make pralines shaped like mice and hedgehogs...so cute.

The very last thing I did was get a "Coke Diete" at 7-11, and we headed back home to the good old US of A.

In the meantime...

I'm considering signing up for a rowing class next quarter through the little extension program at my school. I know someone whose blog I read rows, I just can't remember who (Claris?), but if anyone has suggestions/do it/don't do it/advice, I'd love to hear. I have been gradually letting myself slide this past month. Breakup, post-breakup drama, exams, the MPRE, job-hunting, job-not-getting-picked-stress, and everything else has led me to abandon at least some parts of my exercise routine. Plus, the Guacamole Kid has headed back to his native land of Alaska, which means no more walking partner for me. I've always wanted to learn to row, but I'm scared that I'm in too terrible of shape or that they'll take one look at me and laugh their fit, tight little asses off. Opinions?

I'm back!

I just got back from beautiful Vancouver, BC. I will write more about the trip, the food, the shopping, the boozing, and everything else soon, but suffice it to say I had a FANTASTIC time and I am so rejuvenated and glad I went.

$100 = amount of money spent on bath products and lipstick.

1 = amount of bar fights* I got into with a Canadian regarding the U.S. military and its policies and the inherent evilness of any person more conservative than FAR FAR left. (*by "fight" I mean "semi-drunken loud-mouthed verbal assault")

1 = amount of bars I drank at with the word "Loose" in the name.

$10 = amount I spent on chocolate to use up my last bit of Canadian money. What? Yeah, I COULD have bought something non-caloric. So what?

2 = number of crepes I ate in one sitting at a French cafe just this very morning.

0 = amount of cell-phone bars I had during the trip. HOORAY! No calls going in or out, no internet, and no contact with the outside world. Perfect!

More to come.

Don't let any weird Canadians do anything weird to you

That's what my friend said to me when I told him I was going to Vancouver for a couple of days during Spring Break. I asked "What kind of weird things?" And he told me "I don't know. Like, don't get abducted or something." Ummmm...OK. Done.

Anyway, I leave for Vancouver in a couple of hours. I'm super-excited to spend a couple of days with my Ex-Roomie, drinking and shopping. YAY! I'll be back Tuesday night, so until then, don't any of YOU let any weird Canadians do anything weird to you.

Put a smile on your big Irish kisser!*

I just wanted to report that I did, indeed, live through the night. Barely. I'll have some good highlights later, but first I definitely need to some things. Like take a shower and wash the green eyeliner off of my cheeks, since apparently it spent the night walking down my face which has resulted in a look I like to call "Irish Post-Apocalyptic Crackwhore." But, I'll be back later with a story or two.

*Extra special thanks go to Ex-Roomie for allowing me to wear one of her vintage Irish pins out to the bars last night (hers said "Irish Power"), and for allowing me to sleep it off on her couch last night. Well, last night, this morning, and into this afternoon.

Oh my god. oh god.

Someone please kill me. PLLLLEEEEEAAAASSSEEEEE.

I drank for TWELVE straight hours yesterday, and somehow I have to rally for St. Patty's day in just about three hours.

Oh god. My head is actually physically exploding.

UPDATE: OK, I'm almost there. Just one more glass of water and some eyeliner and it'll be all good. Also, why did I steal the muddling stick thing from the bar last night (that's what it's called...right? the thing the bartender uses to make mojitos?)? Honestly, who wakes up and finds a muddling stick in their purse?

It's all his fault!

Here is the infamous t-shirt from the "It's All His Fault" party the other night. I blocked out my friend's name just in case he didn't want it all over the internet(s). But, as you can see, he was true to his word, wearing both the t-shirt AND paying for all the beer...because that's how he rolls.

We had such a fantastic time...thanks go to him for both the beer, the bringing of cute boys that don't go to law school with us (people who HAVEN'T heard all my stories...YAY!), and telling me I could post the pic. THANKS!

A tidbit.

I'm working in my (shared) office at school, trying desperately to get some stuff done before I either fall asleep or die of brain-overloading. So, every once in awhile, someone else with a key to the office comes in to study, or grab books, or get some food from the fridge. But, just now, one of the guys who studies in here a lot comes walking in, looks at me, and goes "Hi! I'm drunk!" Then he grabbed his stuff and stumbled out. Priceless.

I love it. I'm jealous as hell. But I love it.

Exams. Blah.

Oh man, the 3L "I Seriously Don't Care About Exams" apathy has kicked in big-time around here. First of all, it's freaking inhumane to have THREE sets of exams, EVER. It's even worse (I'm finding) in 3L because we already don't care anymore. I have no incentive to study or do well. Most people already have jobs (therefore, why should they care?), and I can't find a job, thus increasing my general levels of both apathy and hatred for the law school experience and the total lack of reliability and validity in the exam-taking and grading process.

I mean, my Tax prof is great, and I'm trying to think of his exam as more like "Just doing some Tax problems" rather than "Trying desperately to regurgitate 10 weeks of math-y type stuff in three hours so that it can be graded on a curve which will, inevitably, assign me to EXACTLY the middle no matter how much or how little I prepare."

I am mediocre law-student, hear me roar mutter under my breath.

It's like...yin and yang. Or something.

Sometimes, someone in your life who you know shouldn't be there, but who you've been reluctant to just push away for "no real reason" just has to do something so egregious and hurtful that it pushes you over the edge and makes you say "OK, I've had enough...you're done." It sucks, but it's kind of reassuring when you've seen someone walking all over you and you suddenly realize, "Hey, guess what, I DO still have limits and boundaries that, when crossed, will cause me to stand up and say 'NO MORE.'"

On the other hand, sometimes someone you really don't know all that well will go out of their way to do something really nice for you, even a small thing, but it just makes your life easier and is something you really needed to have done, and you feel like maybe the Universe is rewarding you for finally getting around to doing some emotional housecleaning.

It's all his fault!

My friend who got the job that I told him about, the job that I didn't get, took me out for dinner and beers tonight. It was awesome! He brought two hottie friends (YUMMY!) from out of town (yay!), and he made a t-shirt that said it was all his fault. He took pictures, so if he gets those to me and says I can post them, you'll see them here eventually. Unfortunately (or fortunately), all the pictures I took were crotch-centric, so his friend eventually had to take one that actually had the t-shirt in it. God...I wasn't even trying, it just happened!

I've been kind of bummed out lately, lots of off-blog stuff going on, but I think I'm going to sort of come out of it soon. Hopefully. I promise we'll be back to funny soon, and away from "woe is me, I don't have a job and I got dumped." Believe me, it's just as depressing for me as it is for you. And you don't have the hangovers or the weird baggage that comes with all the shit I've been dealing with lately.

I'm reading "It's Called A Breakup Because It's Broken" right now. It's funny. And it makes me laugh when I want to call. Why oh why do I get myself into these things? The clean break is ALWAYS better...no "we'll just be friends" or any of that crap. Just a clean break. I'm going to remember that for next time. I mean it this time.

Anyway, I promise that after exams and after I get my shit together in my personal life (it's almost there!), we'll be back to more funny and less crazy/depressing. I swear. Thank for hanging in there.

Note to self: You are awesome, please quit dating non-awesome guys.

This is being reposted because I need it...I need to look at it for awhile. It may come back down again when I am feeling better. Also, I originally posted this on Feb. 13th, and it's exactly one month later and I really do need it today.

In the future, please remember the following:

- It's not OK that he's still "best friends" with his ex and is still in a sort of psuedo-marriage with her. Even if she's the mother of his kid. While it's commendable that they are being good co-parents, if he's still emotionally involved with her, he can't be emotionally involved with me.

- If his friends are ALL losers, and ALL have significant life issues going on, that says something very valuable. If he won't introduce you to any of them, that says something even more valuable.

- Run, and fast, when he tells you the only reason he doesn't sit around all day playing video games and getting stoned is that he can't afford it. Yet.

- The guy for me needs to have discernible moral convictions. Not necessarily religious in nature, but there has to be some standards, some life code that he follows or adheres to. While it works for some people, having no boundaries is not OK with me.

- Someone I am going to be with for the long term needs to be honest and forthright about his past, willing to share with me, and respectful of my needs and boundaries.

- It's not enough to just be a warm body who's nice and calls on time. He has to be more than that in order to deserve all the wonderful things I have to offer.

- He needs to be doing something in his life he likes, or at least working towards it. Dealing with someone else's depression over the fact that they are wasting their life in a dead-end job, when they're not motivated enough to try to fix their situation, will never work out for me. I am a doer. I make things happen. I change my situation. Hopeless and pathetic doesn't work for me.

- I need to feel like I am getting back what I'm putting in. Emotionally and mentally and intellectually and physically. I need to be with someone who is capable of that.

- I cannot be with someone who uses drugs (at all), or alcohol in a way that I am uncomfortable with.

- I need to be strong when I meet new men, and be willing to part with the ones I know FOR SURE aren't right as soon as I realize it. (See, for instance, "a warm body isn't enough.")

- I want to be with someone who takes care of me sometimes. I want to be able to feel vulnerable once in a while. I want someone who can be strong for me, and help me, and motivate me in my life goals and pursuits.

- The guy who is right for me will understand how much I put into a relationship, how thoughtful and romantic and wonderful I can be, and he'll WANT that from me and WANT to give it back to me, not just be willing to take it because it's there and I'm stupid enough to keep giving it to someone that doesn't deserve it.

- I am not unlovable. I may be unlovable to this particular guy, at least in his mind, who knows? I may have just met someone who is not mature enough, emotionally, to be with someone who is at the place I am in life (successful, educated, strong family connections, awesome friends). If this guy can't love me, who cares? I couldn't have loved him either, not in the long run, and that's OK.

- I am cool, and smart, and funny, and attractive and I definitely deserve to find someone who respects me, and is capable of giving ME what *I* need...not just taking what he needs. This guy was nice and funny and kind, but he just wasn't capable of being the person I would have needed him to be in my life.

- I am a nurturer at heart. I love to take care of people. But I don't want or have to take in every stray dog of a man I meet and nurse him back to health so that he'll be in great shape to go back to his ex, or be a great boyfriend for someone else. No more stray dogs.

Alas, the Roundup is on vacation

I apologize deeply, but the Roundup just isn't happening today. I have exams in two days, and about a million things going on between now and then, and it's already 3pm and I just don't see it happening today. Plus, no one sent me any links or anything, and I'm not really up to date on my blog reading, so I just don't even know what I'd use. I will TRY to get something up perhaps tomorrow afternoon...?? We'll see.

I especially apologize to Evan because he should be able to count on me for this, but between the MPRE yesterday and exams the rest of this week, my life is a little bit chaotic right now.

Wine is good

I heart wine. I can't remember now which one of you told me to drink more wine (maisnon?), but damn, you were so right! So, I'm a bottle in, and a friend made me a fantastic dinner of pasta with shrimp and scallops, and I'm still drinking. Damn. I heart wine.

Don't expect the Roundup early tomorrow.

Let it go to voicemail...

Oh my god. So funny.

I know exactly the people to whom two of these ringtones will be assigned.

For those without sound, here's the text:

Voicemail: "Let it go to voicemail. Let it go to voicemail. You are too busy getting on with your life. Let it go to voicemail."

Delete: "Seriously, why haven't you deleted this number? C'mon now, let's live in the future."

Really: "REALLY? You're gonna answer it? Is that we're doing now, backsliding? Really, we're just gonna chuck our self-esteem out the window?"

Booty Call: "Guess who's drunk and phoning again? It's me! It's me! Guess who's drunk and phoning again at QUARTER TO THREE? A.M.? IN THE MORNING! Don't do it! It's a booty call! Don't do it!"

Top 10

So, I think there's a meme around where you post the first ten songs on your Ipod on Friday's or full moons or every other Tuesday during a leap year or some shit like that. But, as we all know, rules don't apply to me so I'm going to post the 10 songs at the top of my "Studying for Exams" playlist just because I have nothing else to talk about and I am procrastinatng on Income Tax outlining and I don't feel like doing the Weekly Roundup yet (but if you have links, send me on in!).

Redemption Song -- Bob Marley
I Saw Red -- Sublime
Soul Meets Body -- Death Cab for Cutie
Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard -- Me First and the Gimme Gimme's
Boss D.J. -- Sublime
A Horse With No Name -- America (Ed. note: Where did this come from?)
Israelites -- Desmond Dekker
Cecilia -- Simon & Garfunkel
If I Had a Boat -- Lyle Lovett
Friend of the Devil -- Ka'au Crater Boys

Whew. Now I feel like I posted something and I have preserved my bizarre musical tastes for posterity.

Onward and upward

So, the MPRE is history. Not good history mind you, but history nonetheless. In my opinion it was more confusing than the practice tests, but I cared just as little about passing. The woman running the test administration was a total freaking Nazi and literally WOULD NOT let us leave when we were done except on 15 minute intervals, so you had to sit there and stare at the wall until she said you could get up. It was ridiculous. Especially because the supposed point was that we would make too much noise leaving, but then she sat up at the front of the room running her fat trap and ordering around the proctors like they were her full-on minions with not the least little concern that SHE was the only one making any noise.

After the test, GK and I went to a local Mexican joint for fish tacos and margaritas, and now I'm feeling sufficiently well rested to start getting together my materials for my Tax final and thinking about the impending doom that is Federal Income Tax. Also, thinking a little bit about how awesome it is that I STILL do not have a W2 from my summer job...what with it being mid-March and what have you.

Also, I am going to Canada for a couple of days of Spring Break...if anyone has any fantastic bar/shopping suggestions for Vancouver, leave a comment or shoot me an email.

Beer. And nachos. Mmmmm.

Well, my pre-day-of-the-MPRE meal was tons of beer and nachos. Awesome. Now I'm having Diet Coke and ice cream with Girl Scout cookies in it (Samoas, the best!). I figured once I tried a real exam and I finished it in 45 minutes and got a passing grade without studying, it was time to go for some booze. God, I love my life sometimes. It sucks not having a job in the whole "all my friends have jobs and so I look like a big loser by comparison" way, but in general, being in law school, even with exams, is a piece of cake compared to my Air Force job where I worked like 70 hours a week for a tyrannical idiot who seemed to take a certain intense pleasure in making me personally and professionally miserable. And, when you're wearing a uniform, all you get to do is salute smartly and say "Yes Sir!" It sucks! Now, I have exams, and I have to find a job eventually (or so I hear), but I mostly don't have that much to do and I drink a lot of beer and have awesome friends. It's pretty OK when I really think about it. Also, I'm a little drunk which is why this paragraph is so long. But I don't think I made any big spelling errors...as M. would say, "PENMANSHIP COUNTS!"

I'll see you guys after the MPRE. Yay!

Note to self: Don't be a judge.

So, Bar/Bri offers an electronic set of MPRE practice questions/tests that you can take and are automatically scored, which, for me, makes sense to take advantage of as I had avoided the ones in the book because you had to write down the answers and score them yourself (BOOO!). This morning I decided to just do all the practice questions and see if I could pass with no studying whatsoever, figuring that I would be able to tell where I might need a little more work.

As it turns out, I got passing scores on everything but Judicial Ethics. Coincidentally, Judicial Ethics is the one subject that was not covered in the Professional Responsibility course I took last year. Hmmmmmmm....

So, I am reading the three pages in the outline on Judicial Ethics and then I will probably be calling it a day for the MPRE stuff...onward and upward to Federal Income Tax, woo hoo!! And, oh yeah, perhaps a little bit of happy hour. A girl has to have priorities you know.

OK everybody

Raise your hand if you hate Aaron Neville as much as I do.

It pains me that Jimmy Buffett loves him and has even done a duet with him (don't worry Jimbo, I forgive you since you're my One True Love), and every single time I hear his screechy high-pitched warble on the radio I want to pull my car over and carve out my own eardrums with whatever primitive tool is available, like...ummmmm...well, shit, the only things I have in my car are old parking passes and empty Diet Coke bottles...but I'm sure there's something there I could use.

I'm sitting at school all ready to study. I have my Super Big Gulp (funny story: the other day I was walking around with it and my friend goes "Oh my God, there IS a Super Big Gulp...I thought that was just something you made up for the blog." Oh no sister, it's the real thing!), I ate a toasty warm bagel, and now I am going to study. Just as soon as I check all my blogs, my email, and The Superficial. And my horoscope. And TVguide.

Why am I unmotivated?

I have no idea. But today it has to do with the fact that I drank beer nonstop for the last six hours. And I had a calzone. It was good.

Tomorrow is MPRE study day...this time I really, really, really mean it. And I am going to get a Super Big Gulp on the way to school, so don't try to stop me. Feel free to stop me on the studying part...but I probably need to get to it or I'm going to fail and that will be humiliating if it's because I didn't even try.

Anyway, I'm about to eat an enormous amount of ice cream and go to bed so I can get up early and be productive. Or whatever.

One more down

Today I finished my second to the last quarter of law school. Ever. All I have left is MPRE and exams.

To celebrate I hate (Ed. Note: HAD a pitcher of beer...HAD...HAD! I do NOT hate beer...no matter the vessel!) a pitcher of beer. Quit looking so shocked. I'm also going out for drinks tonight as a "study break" and I'm trying to get another friend committed to happy hour tomorrow night. There's also more drinking on tap for Saturday night to celebrate being done with the MPRE. But Sunday I start real studying. I promise. And no boozing. No really.

Mmmmm...self-destructive behavior is the bomb!

So, I am really not too upset about the whole rejection thing. As I told my friend last night (the one who got the job), I would have had to take some time to think about it because I wasn't absolutely sure, and he didn't need to do that because he was sure...so they probably made the right decision for everyone involved. I *AM* a bit pissed at the firm for the following couple of reasons:

1. They know that we know each other and are talking often about the status of this situation.
2. They know that *I* told *HIM* about the job, thus making it even more awkward for him to get it over me.
3. They know that I will find out from him that he got it pretty much as soon as it happens.
4. They make no effort whatsoever to give me a call or an email or anything, I guess I'll just get a rejection letter in the mail whenever they get around to it, which, judging by the fact that it took them three months to make this decision, could be in May sometime.

So, I think that if it was MY very small law firm and I knew what they know about the candidates I was interviewing, I would have handled it differently. But hey. I am really, genuinely happy for my friend who got it, I only wish they hadn't strung us along for quite so long. Also, he has to buy me drinks, so all is well that ends well, right?

Back to the job-hunting coal mines I guess.

In other news, last night my internet at home was down for some reason. It kept telling me I had a great connection but wouldn't let me online, so I have no idea what the hell that means. I made the most of my time by indulging in a whole string of self-destructive behavior that I won't describe in any great detail but which starts with a bottle of wine and which ends with me having to wash two cereal bowls this morning, if you know what I mean. Eh. Oh well, what's a girl to do? Sometimes you just have to indulge in a little bit of idiocy and get it out of your system I guess.

I feel so much pressure right now to do all of these different things, and be all of these different things...and it's hard. I feel like I'm not making the right decisions a vast majority of the time, but I am trying to remember that first of all, I'm not making any decisions that can't be undone or fixed or worked around pretty easily, and secondly, it's OK to make mistakes sometimes and it's also OK to go along and give a situation enough time to tell if it's a mistake or not. The key is figuring out where the course reversals need to take place and actually doing it. It's a philosophy that seems to apply equally well to school, job-hunting, and relationships...so, I'm going to go with it for now at least.

So, back to studying...awesome.

Sweet relief from the pain of life.

Just when I thought my life was total shit and would never get any better, I heard a commercial while I was exercising for this. Oh thank God.

No news...is...bad news?

So, the place I've been interviewing at since freaking November called the other guy who is up for the job this morning and left him a message. He tried to call them back but they haven't gotten back to him yet. Obviously this means that we will know by tonight who got the job, but I think that since they called him first and seem to want to get in touch with him, that probably means they are going to offer him the job. If that's the case I will be SO happy for him because he's an awesome guy and would be so great at this job, but of course I'll be disappointed that once again I was RE-JEC-TED. Oh well, no use counting my little rejection chickens before they're hatched, but I'll be on Phone Watch '06 for the rest of the day.

UPDATE: God, how long is it going to take these people to get on with the official rejection? I have been trying SO HARD to find my zen lately and this is ruining all my efforts. I want to just get it, acknowledge it, and move on...but can't do that until they officially do their thing. Damnit.

UPDATE 2: Yup, I'm officially rejected. The only thing that could possibly make my job hunt worse would be to start getting rejection letters from places I haven't applied. Back to square one I guess. Joy.

Hahahaha...

Who's watching Boston Legal?

Hackey McGuiltyverdict.

HAHAHAHAHA.

On another note...in my procrastination from studying for the MPRE I watched The Unit on CBS tonight and it was, without a doubt, one of the worst TV shows I have ever seen. Ever. They partially lost me when they shot the donkey, and they lost me the rest of the way with their portrayal of military wife-dom as some sort of cultish existence where you MUST live in base housing and you can't make outside phone calls to your family. What a load of crap. I wish I could sue them to get back the hour they stole from me. Those bastards.

In other news, the MPRE CD's from Bar/Bri are so awful. I thought they would be acceptable, but without having the video to keep me entertained/awake, just listening to the audio is absolutely awful. I have listened to 1 of the 4 CD's, read part of the outline, and made a grand total of 0 flashcards, although it's been on my agenda for many days now. Good think I don't have class on Friday...it looks like I'll be procrastinating right until the bitter end. Fantastic.

I got a kinda sorta part-time job.

Today I got a part-time job for next quarter. It's definitely not a permanent thing, but I'm hoping that I'll be able to use it to network a bit, and if I do a decent job, I'll have a good reference from somebody who I'm doing ACTUAL legal work for, rather than professors and government bosses who know I can write and research but don't know whether I can do the kind of work I'm actually currently applying for (mostly). Anyway, I'm excited to the extent I can be excited (ie: once I'm through MPRE/exams I'll hopefully feel normal human emotions again).

I'm very busy these days. Today I came home to grab some stuff so I could go back to school for about five more hours of studying. My friend wants to go to dinner and I gladly accepted. I have been realizing more and more lately how much I DON'T want to leave here yet. I have such a great social network here, I'm not sure I want to give it up. I hope I don't have to, but I'm not going to waste time worrying about it (see post below). Anyway, I'm off to school for the evening, MPRE study materials in hand and Tax stuff in my backpack. Hooray.

How do you know?

I was talking to someone today and this is the exchange (to the best of my memory):

Me: "I don't know, I'm really worried about not finding a job...and, well, you know...relationship stuff, and where will I live, and, Oh God, the list goes on and on."

Him: "Well, what's the worst thing that could really happen?"

Me: "I end up living in my parent's basement at 50 with 100 cats."

Him: "Well, do you really believe that's going to happen? Do you know that's going to happen?"

Me: "Of course not. I mean, you can never know for sure what might happen, right?"

Him: "How much time do you spend thinking about all the terrible things that could happen in your life? Not finding a job? Never finding the right mate? People not liking you enough?"

Me: "A lot of time. All the time."

Him: "So, how is your life now any better than the worst case scenario? You're already living the worst that can happen. Your life is spent worrying and being anxious and trying to control every possible thing and person instead of being lived and enjoyed and experienced."

Me: "Damn."

Wedding

There was no rice. No confetti. No limo, doves, cake, or tiny toddlers throwing rose petals at our feet. There wasn’t even a white dress. Despite all of this, there was a wedding.

We arrived at the courthouse and immediately began waiting. Waiting for forms, waiting for pens to fill the forms out, and finally waiting in line to turn the forms in to one of the extremely bored looking public servants. On the forms we detailed all of our pertinent information; name, address, blood type, prior names (“Honey, I don’t think you have to put down ‘King of all that is Beer!’”).

Each couple in line had their own way of waiting. Some leaned on the grimy velveteen ropes, the nap long since rubbed off by the nervous hands of the nearly wed. A few held hands and whispered softly to each other. I imagined them making promises … “forever,” “eternity,” “someday we’ll do this for real!” Or, more likely, “How much is this going to cost again? Oh, $27? That’s not bad!” As we inched forward, one couple at a time, my soon-to-be husband began to look fairly apprehensive.

It started with the tie. The horrible, awful, South Park tie. The tie that would not disappear, no matter how fervently I prayed: promising God I’d clean my room, go to the gym at *least* four days a week, and give up vodka this-time-for-real-I-mean-it. He started by fanning his increasingly sweaty face with the tie tails (Look! It’s Cartman! … Look! It’s Kenny!). His fidgeting became frantic and he finally stuck two fingers between his collar and the knot, loosening the accursed beast of a tie with the fervor of a man who has just realized that the decorative piece of silk around his neck is the first cousin of the noose.

Next came the swaying. I imagined I was on the honeymoon we weren’t actually going to be taking. A cruise ship rocking back and forth on the gentle waves of the Caribbean Sea instead of my fiance rocking back and forth on the grimy linoleum of the county courthouse. Just then, my future husband, the man who would hopefully spend a lifetime saving me from spiders and burglars and his mother’s insidious questions about my fertility, sat down in a moment of collapse so graceless it was breathtaking and put his head between his knees.

The other couples stared. They actually gawked. I blushed and kicked his shin, which caused him to obligingly raise one hand up in a sort of “I’m OK” salute without being forced to actually lift his head above midline. I thought briefly about trying to find a paper bag, handy for hyperventilation as well as any lingering nausea issues, but discarded the idea after a quick review of a little mental list I liked to think of as: “Things I Will Not Have To Endure On My Wedding Day.” Directly after “Answering Future Father-in-Law’s Question About Whether They’re Real” was “Having To Fetch Barf Bag.”

As the couple directly in front of us went into the small room where the civil ceremonies took place, I broke one of my own rules and asked a question to which I was not sure I wanted to know the answer. “Hey honey, are you OK? Do you still want to do this?” He wiped away a curtain of sweat that would have been appropriate had he been, say, a roofer standing in a vat of tar in Miami in July, instead of a mild mannered scientist sitting quietly with his head between his legs in an air conditioned building in November, steadied his hands, tightened his wayward tie, and said “Absolutely! Why would you think I was having doubts?” And so, in the interest of eternal bliss and never having to find someone to go to the movies with again, we entered The Marriage Room.

We walked into a small room that was decorated in a style I dubbed “The Land That Color Forgot.” In my mind I wondered fleetingly whether beige was supposed to be calming, but quickly discarded that thought in favor of the certain knowledge that some government worker found four-hundred gallons of beige paint on sale in 1978 and thus the room would remain colorless, humorless, and passionless until every last drop was gone.

The woman who would perform the ceremony walked in, and to my horror, she was carrying two enormous ceramic figurines of a bride and groom “for the pictures.” One was Mickey Mouse wearing a tuxedo, and the other was Minnie Mouse in a traditional wedding gown the likes of which I had not seen on a single woman waiting in the interminable line. I had a sudden urge to ask if there was a Minnie in Chuck Taylor low tops and a red dress, but at the risk of robbing the occasion of whatever dignity it had left, I kept my mouth shut.

The woman explained all the rules and procedures to us. “You have to answer verbally! No head nods! No shoulder shrugs!” “I’m going read the vows. Face each other! Don’t face me, you’re not marrying me!” “Try to smile, but it’s OK to cry!” “Don’t forget to stand far enough apart so that we’ll be able to see Mickey and Minnie in the pictures!!”

The “ceremony” was brief. In fact, the waiting in line and the pre-ceremony warnings were both longer than the vow exchange and Disney photo extravaganza. She left the room to allow us a “private moment,” a moment we spent trying to decide whether or not to steal Mickey and Minnie as a keepsake of the momentous occasion.

The next day, nestled in bed, a lifetime of marital bliss stretched tantalizingly in front of us, we stared at our outstretched hands, now adorned with matching gold bands. I asked my new husband, “Um, should we tell people about this?” “Yes,” he said, “Of course we should, but who first? How do we tell our families that we got married and that, not only weren’t they invited, but we didn’t even consider them until after the fact?”

Our first decision as husband and wife was to procrastinate. To lie by omission. We would revel in our love, roll around in the secret knowledge of our union, dive headfirst into the shared delusion that we could get away with the world’s most poorly executed secret wedding.

Weeks went by. The pressure mounted and finally I called my parents and told them, “Guess what? I got married! Yeah….uh-huh…um...yeah, today! It IS exciting!” And that is how a little white lie became my wedding anniversary.

More bad dates...from someone else for a change!

Many of you who are longtime readers may remember that I did a series of posts once on my Top 5 Bad Dates Ever (One, Two, Three, Four, Five.). Well, Blondie has written about two of her worst dates ever and while I feel bad that she had to endure these people, I am just so damn happy that it doesn't only happen to me. If you decide to write about your worst dates ever, drop me a line and I'll start a list of links...bad dates are ALWAYS funny.

Weekly Law School Roundup #10

Is up over at Evan Schaeffer's Legal Underground. Look for it here next week!

Where did all this laundry come from?

Oh my God, I am doing SIX loads of laundry right now. I'm not sure if it's the product of proscrastination for not wanting to study for exams and the MPRE (why yes, this shower curtain does need to be washed! immediately!), or if I really haven't done laundry in weeks (yup, that's true too), but holy crap...I can't believe how much damn laundry I have. I also vacuumed and cleaned the kitchen. Go me!

I went to dinner at a friend's house last night with our other friend and her husband and it was so fun! I ended up staying until nearly 2:30am just talking to my friend about school and jobs and everything else and it was great...it's been a long time since I just hung out and chit-chatted and had a couple beers with a girlfriend.

Today on the agenda is YET MORE chore-like activity, including grocery shopping, rent-paying, and a trip to 7-11 for my Super Big Gulp, and then I guess I really do need to get my shit together and start studying. For some reason I can't get into it until the house is clean. You always hear about how people nest when they're pregnant...I think I nest for exams.

Oh look, Adults of the Corn*

So, the Weirdest Thing Ever happened yesterday.

As you will recall, my friend from school and I are the only two people left in the running for this job we've both been interviewing for since mid-November. We've been to eleventeen interviews, they were supposed to make a decision by end of December, then end of January, then end of February, and so far nothing. We have a deal where whoever gets the job has to take the other one out drinking. So, basically, every day at least once we catch up on whether the other has heard anything, theories about why it's taking so long, etc. That's just background to the Weirdest Thing Ever.

In the meantime, while I'm waiting to hear about the job above, I'm applying to anything that comes up on Symplicity (like eAttorney) that I would be even remotely qualified for in any universe. Recently I applied to a clerkship in Oregon because it was near my parents and I thought that it was remote enough that even I might have a shot.

Yesterday, when I get home, I have a letter in the mail from said clerkship. Needless to say, by the size of the envelope, I can tell it's a rejection letter...but hey, what's new? So, I open it up to see what their excuse is and GUESS WHAT? NO GUESS!

The rejection LETTER is addressed and everything to my FRIEND, the one who I'm up for the OTHER job against, but the rejection ENVELOPE is addressed to me. So, I totally freak out and start laughing and go to email him and he's already emailed me telling me "OH MY GOD, I just got YOUR REJECTION LETTER in MY REJECTION ENVELOPE!!"

I think our job futures are intertwined or cosmically twisted or something. Maybe we should start a practice together or something, it seems like the universe is trying to tell us something!

*This may only be funny if you've been watching an awful lot of Mystery Science Theater 3000 episodes via Netflix. This comes from Prince of Space.

Six bucks and my right nut says were not landing in Chicago.

Best advice ever.

One of the people that shares my office just told me:

"E. Spat, if you don't want to go to Trenton, get off the train that's bound for Trenton. It's that easy."

Quote of the Night. Part 2.

The quote of the night for last night goes to Guacamole Kid.

He was regaling us with stories of his home state of Alaska, where the beer flows like wine and the men are...well...there's a lot of 'em. His favorite little saying is "Alaska, where the odds are good, but the goods are odd." So, as usual, he's telling me I should move to Alaska because I would love it there and there's like 7 men to every woman and I would just be in heaven, and I'd never buy my own drinks ever again. And this is how he described it (after a few million pitchers of Labatts were had by all of us):

"You'd get so much c*ck you'd be able to build a picket-fence from here to Fairbanks!"

I have NO IDEA what that actually means, but I'll tell you that after about 20 pints of Labatts, I laughed so hard my sides are LITERALLY sore today.

That's *exactly* why I'm not heavy into activities.

Last night two of my friends and I went to Guacamole Kid's final hockey game, complete with signs we made (with glitter paint no less), a slight buzz, and a lot of attitude. We had a great time waving our signs and screaming for him, and frankly, since generally no one ever shows up, I think the players thought it was funny and/or crazy. We had a good time though and felt like true fans of the GK. There were some good quotes at the bar afterwards, and as soon as I dig through my purse and find the one I wrote down, perhaps I'll post it...I do remember writing it down.

I'm thrilled that the week is over, although I guess it's not so exciting to think about spending the weekend outlining Tax and what have you, but hey...every day is one day closer to Spring Break...right?

I have yet to hear from any of the various jobs I've applied for. I kind of feel like they all got together and decided to actually do this on purpose or something...I mean, it's just too well coordinated to be random! And lastly, my personal life is, as always, a mess. What's new? I have put off dealing with the various issues mostly until after exams. Right now my whole philosophy is that I'm just doing what I need to do mentally to get through exams, and if that turns out to be a mistake, well, I'll have a whole week to deal with all of it during Spring Break. I know that's probably not the most fantastic plan ever, but it's the only one I currently have.

Am I jumpin' around all nimbly bimbly from tree to tree?

I don't know why, I just have the quote in the title of this post stuck in my head...maybe I need to watch Super Troopers again? For about the four-hundredth time?

So, this morning, with the help of a friend who is more on top of schoolwork on her worst day than I will be on my best day times 100, I figured out that my Tax professor, who I like very much, added an extra day to the syllabus. February 29th. I do not like this turn of events. It appears now that I am even MORE behind than I thought because, as I'm sure you all know, there is actually no February 29th this year. So, now apparently I am required to do reading for days that don't even exist. This is a problem.

I have decided to do the MPRE Bar/Bri review on self-study so I don't have to spend 6 hours of my life at a lecture tomorrow. Plus, if they give me the CD I can watch it/listen to it whenever I want, including in my pajamas on my couch while eating ice cream, or better yet, drinking a beer. So I think that sounds like a reasonable plan.

I am SO GLAD to be done with the Trial Ad mock trial thingie from last night. It just sucked up a lot of time and was making me even more nervous and anxiety-ridden than normal, something I really don't need right now. If I make it through exams with my sanity intact, it will be a miracle. And honestly, this quarter has not turned out to be the laid back, 3L second to the last quarter that I had envisioned. Damnit.

But, at least things are sort of moving along, getting crossed off the "To-Do" list one by one. I guess that's all a girl can ask for! I'm going to the gym today...and Guacamole Kid's last hockey game as he prepares to be done with school after this quarter and go back to his home state. I'm excited about the beer, and yet sad that there won't be any more hockey nights in the future.

Quote of the Night

Our trial was a sexual harassment case...my side was Plaintiff. In the course of interviewing job candidates, a supervisor for Defendant Company had a (bad) habit of writing down his "thoughts" regarding each of the young, pretty, single candidates. If they were ugly or somehow undesirable, they miraculously didn't get hired. So, on one resume he wrote (among other things) "cold fish" and drew a picture of a fish next to it. With little bubbles coming out of the mouth no less.

Defense Counsel: "Why did you draw the picture of the fish?"

Witness: "Well, I noticed on her resume how much she likes watersports."

Only dirty minded people will probably get this, and I'm going to get a ton of freaking google hits looking for something VERY different than this story, but I very nearly lost my shit right in front of our "judge."

More on the trial later. Maybe. It went well. We won on all the legal issues but got REALLY limited damages. And no attorney's fees. :(

Wouldn't you like to be a Pepper too?

I am alive. Barely.

No, just kidding. I'm alive and kicking, getting ready for my little mock bench trial tonight and all that goes with it. I ended up being called yesterday afternoon by one of the teams who went last night saying they lost their main witness and needed someone ASAP who knew the case, so I flew downtown after school and spent yesterday evening witnessing for them. I thought it was going to be a big time-waster, but I'm glad I did it because I got to see how they handled stuff and what objections came up and stuff, and I think it set my mind at ease a bit. Sometimes when the team you're going against is super-competitive it's hard to remember that it's OK for you to have your own style and do your own thing. Pass/Fail people, Pass/Fail.

In the upcoming days I have things to do, meetings, plans, etc., literally from sunup to sundown, so I have no idea what or when I will be posting. But I'll be around and maybe something funny will happen to lighten this place up a bit from my recent depressing ramblings. Shit has been kind of tough lately and it's shining through, I know...I promise I'm trying to get through everything and be a little less maudlin, we'll just have to see.