Future Benevolent Dictator Tells All

Back in the AZ

2006-05-04T20:37:00.000-07:00

Wow, sorry that it has been over a month since my last post....things got a little hectic, and then whenever I thought of a good post, I would forget to post....blah blah blah....like y'all care, anyway, I am in Arizona!!!

My college roomie/best friend/partner in crime/hooligan is getting married and I am so excited. I came out a day earlier than everyone else to help with wedding prep stuff, and now am trying to fill the gap in time while she is at her last dance lesson with her fiance (how cute). Another friend, another wedding, another bridesmaids dress for me. The old saying "always the bridesmaid" comes to mind, but honestly I am not worried about it. I am having fun, and being the only single person allows me the leeway I need to be irreverant and basically extemely social....I am not really sure what that means right now, but we shall see.

Anyway everyone arrives tomorrow. The weather is great: hot, sunny, perfect pool weather. So Friday=bachelorette party, Saturday=rehearsal, Sunday=Wedding!!!, Monday=trip back to DC leaving AZ at 5:20am, possibly still drunk, possibly still in my bridesmaids dress, Tuesday=admin exam, Tuesday night=Drunken goodbye to Rebecca and all my friends heading out of town this summer, and then I will post with a summer preview/wedding review.

Mason Madness? George March?

2006-03-26T19:18:00.000-08:00

Oh my God!.....Oh my God!!!!!!!!

George Mason, the red-headed stepchild of the public university system in Virginia, the "Patriots," members of the CAA (the Colonial Athletic Association--of which WM is a member), are in the FINAL FOUR of the NCAA Division I basketball tournament.

I never thought I would see the day that a CAA team would make it this far. And since WM is part of the CAA, and our colors are green and gold, and we are in Virginia....I am taking this win and pretending it is my own. I love the underdog, I love the story of it, I love everything about Mason going to the Final Four...if the 'Heels can't be there, if WM can't be there (if that ever happens in my lifetime, I may pass away from shock), then this is close enough for me. Unfortunately due to forces completely beyond my control, I could not watch it, but I was watching live score updates online, and jumping in my seat, when I realized that the scores were not refreshing in real time...so I enlisted Ena over IM to give me the play by play, which she did remarkably. If a day in the library can ever be salvaged by anything, then a #11 seed beating a #1 seed. March Madness really has lived it up to it's name....no #1 seeds in the Final Four, no returning Final Four appearances, upsets, overtimes....best sports time of the year (unless it is this year and it is a World Cup year, and then that is the best sports time, but I know most of you would not agree or understand the beauty).

Well, as my life is slowly deteriorating into nothing of interest to anybody, including me, I will try to post something interesting this week. Vegas recap with pictures will probably never come because apparently relying on others, not a good plan. But there is a new LOST this week and $1 oyster happy hours on Thursdays to fill the time between all of my work.

Welcome Spring..Damn You

2006-03-22T12:10:00.000-08:00

Every since I came back from Vegas, I brought back the Vegas weather with me.

"Sunny, 80s....man I would take that!" You say...

But alas, no, the weather in Vegas was very windy and cold with the average in the low 50s, but feeling colder. Well, here in DC it is colder than that and very, very windy, and I am starting to get pissed.

A long time ago, when deciding to apply to law school, I applied to Northeastern University School of Law as my "safety" school, but a safety school I actually could see myself attending. It is in a great college town (Boston), very liberal, very focused on public interest, and had a co-op program that is redefining legal education. Well, I got in, and got an extremely generous funding package from them. Still not sure, I decided I wanted to visit every school I got in to before deciding. I could not go to admitted students day at NEU because I would be visiting my sister in London, so I decided to go a few weeks earlier in mid-March. Well, when I went up there I caught the tail-end of a big snow---what we would probably call a blizzard in RIC. Anyway, that really played into my decision because I do not like cold weather and snow and a place that is cold and snowy into the Spring is unacceptable to me. It was not the only reason, but it was a reason. I cannot lie.

Flash forward two years to present time in DC and guess what, it is freezing. And it snowed last night! A very weird, dry snow that left no trace, but still, snow. It is Spring!!! No snow in the Spring! I am adamant on this point. So adamant that anybody who tries to reason with me will get the wrath of me...especially if they try to reason with me while I am stuck in the Law Review office doing stupid, mindless tasks. Yesterday, this perfectly nice person who is on Law Review with me from Idaho tried to do such a thing. Some random flurries were falling during my work in the office and I exclaimed...."no snow in March!" To which she tried to reason with me: "Well, we did have a mild Winter" Knowing she was from Idaho, and therefore more used to winter weather than I, and that she is on Law Review with me, I decided the best response was: "Fuck that, I don't care, it's Spring!!!" Again, in an extremely patient, reasoning voice she replies, "It is not going to snow that much." Again, though, I decided the best tact to take was an extreme: "I don't care, NO SNOW IN MARCH!!!" I am the queen of maturity and reason.

This weather has been completely unacceptable. I am ready to wear my skirts, flip flops, message t-shirts. I am ready to start feeling warm again. And I am starting to feel that if I was going to have to put up with cold weather and snow in March, I might as well have gone to NEU and be a lot less in debt than I am now.

The [Bad] Luck of the Irish

2006-03-19T09:49:00.000-08:00

It is widely known that I do not have the best of luck. I mean, my life is not in such a state of despair that I can never be happy, but a lot of very little things notoriously always go wrong for me. I blame my parents. They seem to have gotten all of the luck of the family. My mom won an all-expenses paid trip to Las Vegas, my dad wins $10,000 in one of those online lotteries that I am sure is a scam, they rountinely hit bank at the race track, and they are just generally lucky. The most I have ever won at a game of chance is a Subway Station t-shirt at KDR casino night.

In addition to being unlucky at games of chance (see my loss column from the slots in Vegas), I am unlucky in a lot of little "life-dramas" as I like to call them. These "life-dramas" range from the tiny to the absolutely absurd.

For example, it is not secret that I used to be friends with a girl named Beth in college. We were actually pretty good friends. I kept some huge secrets for her, I provided a listening ear for her dramas, we hung out, we laughed....it was good. Until I disagreed with her over one silly point in regards to who should be the leader of a conference (I did say it was silly) and she stopped talking to me, looking at me, and started to say really mean things behind my back--thus earning the nickname my "Archnemesis" coined by Nick. At first this hurt, I will not lie, but I got over it and I saw her for what she really is. After seeing what she really is (manipulative) I realized my life was better without her in it. So I continued on my merry way at WM. I went backpacking with Jen one summer in Italy and as we were sitting outside the entrance to the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican, whom should I happen to run across but BETH!!!!! It was shocking. Even thousands of miles away, I could not escape. So after that freak encounter, I went back to WM, graduated, started law school, and years have passed without so much as a thought towards Beth in all of that time. Then my friend Chris, who organized the Vegas trip for me, let me know that a girl he was still friends with (Inga) was going to be in Vegas at the same time as we were and she was going to be with her friend.....BETH...dum dum dum!

I basically was like, whatver, Chris asked if I would want to do dinner with Inga and Beth and I said no, because I am sure Beth is still a manipulative bitch and would not want to see me. I get this look from Chris of "that was four years ago, can't you just grow up and drop it?" But I told him that he did not understand the depths of mutual dislike between us. I tell my friends of this coincindence and they assure me that Vegas is big, she is staying at a different hotel, I will be saved from a face to face meeting. Well, that was before my "life-drama" bad luck set in. Sure enough one morning in Vegas, Chris and I decide to get pastries at Paris as that casino was attached to the casino we were staying in. We walk into "Le Cafe" (how very orignal) and I am picking out the perfect chocolate chip muffin when Chris informs me that Beth is there in that very cafe. And seeing as we had seen them and they had seen us, it would be polite for him to go over and say hi. He asks if I could muster the strength to join him, and of course I say I can and walk over. I mean it was four years ago, I am a bigger person than her, and we did share some good times. So we walk over. I wave and say "Hi Beth, Hi Tanja, Hi Traci" to all of the girls sitting at the table (I went to WM with all of them). Beth does not even look at me or acknowledge my presence. Shocking! So while Chris chatted with Inga, I chatted with Tanja and when it was done we went to sit down. Even Chris was shocked by how rude and how openly bitchy Beth was. And I said "I told you so."

Another example of tiny bad luck is another Vegas story: we went to a club where a woman with huge boobs covered by a triangle bikini top and wearing a skirt so short that you could see the red underwear on underneath was pouring shots into peoples' mouths. Clearly everybody at my table wanted one. I was about the third or fourth one to go. The Other Chris was taking pictures of everyone as they were getting the "Wet Pussy" shot poured down their throats. So after she left, Other Chris eagerly showed the pictures to everyone. "But Chris, where is the picture of me getting the shot?" Other Chris: "Oh, I didn't take one." A wave of disappointment rushed over me because it would have been a great shot for my blog, but Chris came to the rescue and said "That will not do! We will get you another shot and take your picture then." Consoled by this consolation prize, I set off to find the shot girl. Bad luck ensues. Oh I did find the shot girl, but Other Chris's camera chose that particular time to break. So no picture of Barbara getting a shot poured down her throat. A small example of bad luck, but an example nonetheless.

My final example of bad luck, in this long and rambling post, occurred just yesterday. After partying hard on St. Patrick's Day, I had to wake up early to go judge a high school moot court competition. Luckily I was able to get a ride home from the people's whose house I crashed at, making the morning rush a bit easier. Of course when I got home to get ready, I got sick--surely still drunk from the night before where I consumed roughly 12 beers, one Irish car bomb, and 3 (maybe 4) cranberry/vodka/club sodas---all with no dinner. Anyway, I digress. To say I was not in the best of shape to judge moot court is putting it lightly. When I get to school and walk into the judge's room, clutching my diet coke and desperately searching for some kind of starch to put in my stomach, who is another judge for the competition that I spy, but asshole ex-bf. Now that is ok, I mean I can handle being in the same room with him, surely out of the eight to ten competition rooms we will get put into different ones.

Wait, what is that I hear? Oh it is bad luck knocking at my door....

Sure enough we get put into the same competition room to judge. The other judge was a cute (married) alum who had no idea of the shitstorm about to happen. Just kidding, nothing too dramatic happened. When I walked in the room to introduce myself to the other judge, ex-bf says in an incredibly asinine way with a stupid smirk on his face "Hello, Barbara" and the other judge paused and was like "You two know each other?" So, seeing no need for pretense, I informed the other judge that we used to date. It was definitely too much information, but I don't care. I mean, I really have nothing to hide, and this other judge needed to realize why I may not look at ex-bf or address him directly. Everything went fine, but of course ex-bf and I found ourselves alone in the judging room for about 10 minutes and he could not let sleeping dogs lie and he had to talk to me. Of course he said something that definitely ranks up there in top ten most stupid things ex-bf has ever said (and he has said some doozies....assumption of the risk comes to mind). I believe in the judging room he actually used to word "disparage" and whether I would "disparage" him. Well, welcome to my blog! Haha. Anyway, I definitely went a little psycho bitch and shut down his lame attempt at a conversation, and that was the last thing I said to him and probably will ever say to him. He just doesn't get a lot of why our relationship ended and he never will, but I guess I will have to live with that.

So anyway, a few small, but poignant examples of my bad luck. There are larger examples too, but they are not as funny as the above and a lot more depressing for me to recount. I do realize, though, that however bad my luck is, I do have it pretty good here, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Happy Ending

2006-03-16T06:32:00.000-08:00

Several times in Vegas I heard people, either commentators on TV or random people, say the words "Happy Ending," and like the juvenile that I am, I sniggered every time. I had my massage after I turned in my comment yesterday, and it was amazing, but also unusual for me. See, in Richmond, out of fear of "Happy Endings" there is an ordinance that forbids males from giving a massage to females or females from giving massages to males. Of course, genius--way to combat the prevalent problem of massage parlors fronting as whore houses, Richmond....GOLD STAR! Anyway, since that is the law, I have never had a massage from a male...or at least a professional massage.

Until yesterday! No antiquated notions of massage parlors here in DC! So, as I sat in the Serenity Room, relaxing for my massage, I was a little apprehensive. When you get a massage, you undress to the level you are comfortable with, and normally for me, that means I leave at least something on, but yesterday, I realized that I was comfortable in nothing, so I did that. Basically doing that means, "Please massage my glutei" which I wanted because I have been really tense lately. So my apprehension mainly was coming from the fact that this was going to be the first male massage I have ever received, and it was going to be commando. Well, Julian, my masseur, came to get me from the "Serenity Room" and took me to the massage room, and he decided to break the ice...

Turns out my masseur's name was Julian Marrin (2 r's!). And he found that quite the coincidence. So he says to me, in a really heavy accent..."So, your name is Marrin too, how come?"

For some reason this question struck me as extremely odd. "How come?" I mean, how come anybody has the name they have....I responded, "Because that is my Dad's name." To which he smiled as if talking to a hyperactive, but mentally slow child. "No, no (insert patronizing smile here) I meant, it is a Latin name, are you Latin?"

Which is another question that struck me extremely odd as I am extremely pale, blue eyed, and have red hair (albeit fake red hair, but still). I gave a little patronizing smile of my own at this question and responded "Well I guess it is an Irish name too, because I have not a drop of Latin blood in me." He responds with a look "That is weird, I have never heard of that before." Well, deal with it Julian! Not all Marrins, or Marins, are Latin! Some are Irish, derived from Old French, meaning "Of the Sea!" So take that!

Anyway, the massage was great. The tension from first semester Evidence with Rice, from writing my comment, from sitting on an airplane, from drinking too much, from not having a job, from outrageous medical bills, from losing all my money in Vegas, from basically everything melted off. Julian got over his shock that I was of Irish descent and really worked the tension out of my neck and shoulders. It was the perfect way to celebrate turning in my Comment.

*still waiting on pictures to do a proper Vegas post....my camera is broken, so I have to rely on other's pictures, so it may take some time

I'm Just Looking For Some Sweet Action

2006-03-14T12:29:00.000-08:00

"I have never seen a woman guzzle a beer the way you are guzzling beer this afternoon."
--said to me by Christopher, a Pit Boss at Paris Casino

Vegas, baby, Vegas

The reason I have not posted in a few days should now be pretty obvious, I went to VEGAS!!!!! (the reason my blogger seems to be stuck on bold is a different story entirely)

Finally having a friend with a gambling problem and a penchant for finding cheap airfare pays off for me in that I was able to fly out to Vegas and stay in a hotel on the strip for less than what it would have cost me to do anything else. Of course this trip ended up costing me more than what it would cost me to go anywhere else because just like a 5-year-old or a 75-year-old woman with a chain-smoking problem, the lights, sounds, and colors of the slot machines proved absolutely irresistible to me.

A full recap with pictures will come very soon--I have to wait to gather pictures from friends because at the eleventh hour, my camera broke (and the full recap will have to come after I turn in my Comment tomorrow which I have been working oh so hard on), but in the mean time, here are a few highlights/lessons learned:

--drinking + losing money= a v. depressed drunk Barbara (there were times when I could not get it together, but I was having fun, really, I was!)
--a giant margarita in a plastic eiffel tower is a good drink in theory, in practice it can put you into some kind of diabetic coma
--"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" is the best travel ad campaign ever put together...some popular variations of it were "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, unless you are Barbara and tell everyone you know what happened to you at least 10 times over" or "....unless you are Barbara and you put it on your blog"
--if your "arch-nemesis" is in Vegas, you will run into her, and you will be snubbed, but you will come out looking like the gracious one...thank you to morning drinks
--living life like a Real World Vegas cast member has its advantages, like great views and cheap drinks, but also has its disadvantages like getting sick in ghostbar (the count of people who got sick on this trip: 4 for 6, and yes, I was one of them)
--at the nicer casinos you can get drinks just for watching people play blackjack, especially if you act like some kind of "good luck" charm for them by having the strategy card out and advising them and the rest of the table on tough hands
--failing to cancel your reservation at a nice restaurant leads to a $50/person credit at another nice restaurant and a bill that is over $800
--The Venetian is an amazing casino, but not too lucky of one
--men on bachelor parties are fun, even the ones from Iowa
--the fountain at Bellagio is not overrated and is actually a little moving to watch as the sun is setting
--drunk souvenier shopping leads one to buy socks that have french poodles on them
--the Hard Rock Casino, though off the strip, had the cutest clientele and the cutest craps table staff, EVER
--if you cash out a machine at the Tropicana, I hope you practice your lifting because nickels can be heavy
--Tally: Casinos visited: 17, Casinos playes slots at: 14, favorite slot game: monopoly at The Venetian, most profitable slot game: Egyptian Tomb at Barbary Coast
--five days is a little too long to spend in Vegas, but I was still a little sad to leave!

More on the trip after the Comment and after the massage that I have already scheduled after I turn in the Comment.

Wheeling and Squawking

2006-03-03T11:51:00.000-08:00

You know how there are people who belong to a certain group/segment of the population, and just their belonging to that group makes you automatically think you will not like them? Yes, it seems like I am about to go into some very non-PC rant about some group of people, and in a way, it may be non-PC, but don't worry, I am not racist, or sexist, or homophobic, I am not talking about hatred, I am talking about annoyance.

One group that I automatically dislike just because I don't understand are bird owners. I don't understand people who choose birds as pets. You cannot cuddle with them, they can't lick you, you can't play with them, take them for walks, watch them chase string. The just sit on their perch and squawk. Or chirp. Both equally annoying when had in a large quanitity. I never really knew how I felt about birds and bird owners until I moved into my apartment. In my "Absolutely No Pets Apartment Building." Apparently that means No Pets except for the crazy lady on my floor who has a bird named Larry. I know his name is Larry because every time she leaves her apartment she says in a shockingly high-pitched, perky voice "I loooooove youuuuuu Larry.....Seeee you soooon!" Once I saw this woman wearing a glowstick as a headband. I could complain, but everytime I get used to it, Larry lets squawks out that sound like someone is sticking him with pins and needles....at 3AM. Apparently you can hear the squawks on the 8th floor, because a classmate who lives up there (I live in a combo dorm/retirement home) asked if I ever hear screaming coming from the park next door. I asked her if it sounded like squawking, and she said yes. I then imitated it, and she said that was it. I could complain, and I should. But I would hate to be that neighbor that turned the poor, crazy, glowstick woman in. I know my other neighbors know about Larry because they help her take care of him. One woman put a poster of birds on her door that I was hoping was a passive-aggressive jibe at bird-lady. But then the other day I came home and she was chatting with bird-lady like they were old pals. So, there you go, one group of people that I forever will never understand and automatically be wary of when I meet them.

The next group are people in the law school who use what I call rolly-bags. These are the bags that students use instead of book bags, and they put all their books and computers in them and then roll them around. Apparently the mere fact that they own and use a rolly-bag is enough to give them license to take the elevator ONE floor either up or down. That is my biggest pet peeve in law school, when you are on the elevator going to 6 and it stops on 5 so a rolly-bag person can go up to 6. The thing is, these bags have handles, and can be lifted. And I have seen several people have to carry their rolly-bags up the stairs in the library as that is the only way to get to the second floor in the library, so I know they are capable of lifting it. This is clearly arbitrary and just another manifestation of my dislike of law school, but really, are you so differently abled that you have to take the elevator everywhere. In truth, this isn't fair, I do have friends who have been know to use rolly-bags, but still, no excuse.

I am sure that I have habits and characteristics that cause people to dislike me without really knowing me. Like the fact that I wear earrings that make jangle sounds when I walk, or I type loudly, or jaywalk on Mass. Ave, or talk loudly about inappropriate subjects in the library, or roll my eyes when annoyed, or.....

El Presidente

2006-03-01T10:29:00.000-08:00

On Saturday night we had a sleepover at Rachel's house to fill the void left by Scott when he went out of the town for the weekend. It was a long, crazy night, but totally fun....

During the day we went shopping and I bought some HOTT (yes, that is right, two Ts) clothes for my trip (yay!) But I do not have the shopping stamina that Laura and Adriana have. I mean those two can go for five-six hours. My max is definitely two.

After shopping we went shopping to stock up for the sleepover which we were dubbing "Hustle 'n' Flow Night" because, yes, we were going to watch Hustle and Flow. I bought the beer....I decided on an assortment pack of 24 oz. bottles including Miller Lite, Miller High Life, Sam Adams, Beck's, and Heineken....a veritable cornucopia of beer. Everybody brought something....Popeye's (best biscuits ever), E made mac and cheese, R brought the spinach that Adriana magically turned into spinach, feta, and sundried tomatoes, and E also brough Girl Scout Thin Mint Edy's Ice Cream....what sleepover is complete without ice cream? No sleepover is complete.

So we watched Hustle and Flow, and let me say, wow, it was good. It was what expected, except that it was better. I love movies that take unlikable characters and really humanize them. DJay is extremely unlikable, but you can't help but feel for him. He feels trapped in his life and really upset with the way he is living, but he does have to live....so you as a viewer forgive his unforgivable behavior. I liked it. I do not thinkTerrence Howard will win the Oscar, but his nomination is most deserved.

After the movie, after laying around deciding what to do, we decided to teach Asshole to those uninitiated ones of the group. Now, anybody who knows me knows that Asshole is not my game. Flip cup, kings, beer pong...I am pretty good at. But for some reason, Asshole is not the game for me. One of the more recent times I played comes to mind:

I sort-of started to date this guy who did not live in DC. I say sort-of because we didn't really get to see each other much, but we talked on the phone everyday. Basically without going into too much detail, it was a weird situation, but I liked him, I thought he liked me. He came down to visit Halloween weekend...and I was really excited. Silly, Barbara, you should know not to get excited about a guy, because it always ends in a weird, overly-dramatic way. Sure enough, the first night was great. We went to a party, it was fun, we went back to my place. The next day we were hanging out with friends and he started to treat me like a stranger basically. It was awful. The most awkward and emotionally uncomfortable day of my life. I was so silly and so stupid but I had to keep a brave face on. Instead of just saying see ya, I had to go to the birthday celebrations for a friend, who he happened to be friends with too (that is how I met him). Anyway, we had a discussion on the street on the way to dinner that left me feeling like shit and really upset, but by the time it got to dinner, I decided to just drink away my sorrows. After dinner we decided to play a huge game of Asshole to top the night off. My friend Chris, bless him, decided a good way to ease the tension was to make silly jokes all night long, and I laughed at them. As a matter of fact, I could not stop laughing at them. Tears of a clown, baby. Anyway, it was miserable. I was losing or second-to-losing the whole night..."insult to injury" Mooney kept repeating. Except for one miraculous round where I went from zero to hero....I promptly went back to zero. A rule was made that the winner of the last hand had to chug a bottle of Pumpkin Ale, and you had to play on your honor, and of course, I won that round. And chugged like a champ.

Anyway, I digress....man, loved getting that off my chest, not that any of you don't already know that that happened. So I was one of the few at the sleepover that actually knew how to play. Maybe that is why I won every round.....yeah thats right every round. I like to think it was that I was getting great cards and playing them awesomely. I think it was both. Anyway, I got to be pres three times in a row and make a rule. I am not that creative of a person, so I used the old stand by "you can't say the word 'I'"...it was a hit. I was so proud I had to text my Asshole naysayers to show them that I can succeed! Victory is mine!

Bunny's Surgical Update

2006-02-28T13:54:00.000-08:00

And I forgot to talk about Bunny's surgery in the rambling, pointless post I just typed up.

His surgery was unsuccessful and will be postponed indefinitely.

And when I say unsuccessful I do mean that I was unable to thread the needle successfully on Sunday and got so frustrated I gave up.

And then Bunny lost his ear.

If I find the time and the patience I will pursue, right now, the wound is temporarily covered with a bandage to prevent insides from coming out.

Thank goodness I am not pursuing a profession where I need nimble, non-fumbling fingers.

It's My Life, It's My Choice

2006-02-28T13:31:00.000-08:00

I like to complain. Anybody that knows me knows I like to complain. The kicker is, the things I complain about the most are the things I choose to do. The things I completely volunteer for, no one makes me do them, no one holds a gun to my head. It is all me. And I take resposibility that it is all me, but it does not stop me from complaining.

I do complain, but I do take responsibility for my decisions. For example, Law Review, the thorn in my side. My comment is due in two weeks, and due to my genius planning, I will be out of town for five of those 14 days. Now, I chose to go on this trip, and I stand by my choice. But that choice is making my life suck right now. And I am complaining about it. I will have four nights of library time. Probably staying until 10pm each night of them. Which is a feat because on three of those days all I will be doing is library time. I am talking 12 hour days in the library (that is right, my day does not begin until 10AM--listen to me complain).

Another example is Marshall-Brennan, which is my teaching fellowship. Now, don't get me wrong, I love teaching, but the program annoys me and sometimes the students annoy me. Like the one student who cites Chappelle's Show as valid legal authority. Now this would be funny under normal circumstances, and you should be laughing now, but the thing was, the student did not mean it as a joke. He was dead serious. He even said "they would not put it on TV if it wasn't true." Now most probably think that this is a sad commentary on American society and is nothing for me to be annoyed at. Especially annoyed at the student, but this particular student is smart, he just makes stuff up. And I can handle making some stuff up. But every class he comes up with a new theory or a new idea that he claims he read or saw somewhere but can never remember seeing. Like Catholics aren't allowed to vote. Or women in 1790 were MUCH (and I am talking leaps and bounds here) better off than they were in 1690. I try with him, I really do, and I have started to get him to think about what he says before he says it and he is articulating himself much better. But he still says things about the way girls dress and how that shows what type of person they are.

Anyway, in completely unrelated, uncomplaining events, I was solicited by one of the oddest looking women ever. Not odd in a bad way, but just odd. And when I say solicited, I am not talking propositioned or anything like that. I was waiting for the shuttle bus and almost immediately noticed this woman because she looked odd and was pacing on the sidewalk on the other side of the street like she was looking for something. She was short, had big round glasses on, was wearing a HUGE sweater that came to her knees, black pants that covered her feet, and she was carrying three bags. One was a backpack that was three times as wide as she was front to back. It was like she was carrying another person. Another bag was an old leather briefcase that was so full she couldn't zip it, she carried that by the carrying handles. The last bag was a messenger bag that again was too full to close properly. I do not know how she was carrying all those bags. Her face was also beet red. I think that was from the cold wind. Anyway, I am just standing there, minding my own business, bopping up and down to The Houses of the Holy, when she crosses the street and comes to me and starts talking.

Now I come from a place where if someone is wearing headphones, they clearly do not want to be bothered. Anyway, she told me there was a town hall that John Kerry was going to be at tonight, and I should come. Then she went to tell me the address, but she forgot the address, so she had to search in her bags to find the right location. It happens to be on I Street. And after I thanked her for the information, she promptly took off, not sharing this information with anyone else on the street. Or at least no one that I had an eyeline to. What makes this encounter interesting to me foremost is how odd she looked bustling around in that HUGE sweater with all of those bages. The second interesting fact was her singling me out. I don't think I looked like some bleeding heart liberal in my name brand child-labor threads, but maybe I do. Anyway, no real point to that story, and I am not even complaining about it, I just wanted to share.

For the Love of Inanimate Objects

2006-02-24T21:56:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when people tell me how much they love certain inanimate objects I think, "Love is a powerful emotion for something that is just a possession." But true to my form, the criticism I have of others can rightly be turned on myself. The faults of others that I pick out are the faults I have within myself. I love my possessions.

My car comes to mind first. The fact that I own it outright makes me feel more like an adult than any thing I have or have done since becoming a legal adult 6 years ago. I only realized how much I loved it when I was talking to a friend about drafting a will, and I said, "but I have nothing to leave." And she reminded me that I do have my car. I love my car.

I love my apartment. Having a space that is all mine is literally the best thing for me in the world. I may put pressure and guilt on myself to keep it in a certain condition, but the bottom line is if I don't meet those standards the only person I am disappointing is myself. Also, I can just be comfortable here and that is so important.

Probably my greatest love, though, is Bunny. Naturally love grows the more sentimental attachment you have to the possession. Bunny is my true partner in all things. Bunny is what I look for in a life partner. He has been with me since Easter when I was two and my Great Uncle Aldo gave him to me. He never has wavered in his devotion. Even when I am uncaring and accidentally kick him out of bed, he still accepts me for who I am. I know "Bunny" is not the most creative name for a stuffed bunny, but hey, I was 2. When I was a little girl I used to write to Santa Claus to bring Bunny clothes, but Santa never came through, so I had to dress him in my old t-shirts from when I was a baby. Since I was 11lbs. when I was born, all the t-shirts were way too big for Bunny's frame, but he still loved them anyway. He has since shed his clothing because he is more comfortable in his own skin. He can even sing, equipped with a music box that plays the sweetest lullaby. Sometimes, by accident, he will start singing without being wound, knowing that that tune makes me smile. He has a birthmark that I am pretty sure came from some spill in the car on some roadtrip, but it has been there so long that it was like he was born with it. Bunny is well-traveled having spent time in Richmond, Williamsburg, DC, NY, Montreal, Florida, North Carolina, Italy, London, Turkey, and Kenya. That is right, he went to Kenya with the wonderful E. And although he could not keep her company all the time, he knew his role and served as a little bit of comfort in a new place. All these travels have left bunny a little worse for wear. He still has his eyes, but they have been scratched a little by various animals he has had to share his home with. His nose and mouth are long since gone. The music box is somewhere lost in his abdomen leaving a hole on his backside where the wind-y thing used to be. He is losing weight by the handful. Every morning I wake up to find a little bit of Bunny all over the bed. One ear, already torn off in a tragic accident, but heroically reattached by my mom, is literally hanging by a thread. I love him because he gets me to try new things. My grandma gave me a sewing kit as I was leaving for college, but I have yet to sew anything. This weekend, out of love and devotion for Bunny, I will pick up the needle and thread and reattach his left ear and try to mend some of the holes. It is funny how inanimate objects can take on personalities. It has been said (by my grandma, no less) that I am not good at handling change. I don't think that is completely true, but it has elements of truth to it. Having Bunny with me helps those changes. So, Bunny, this post's for you:

Law Revue (insert jazz hands)

2006-02-24T13:34:00.000-08:00

Law Revue is the student-run musical production making fun of law school and law students. When ever I talk about it I do a flourish of jazz hands so that people will not get confused and think I am talking about the law school torture that is law review. Just like my con law professor, Law Revue is more funny the drunker you are. I take that mantra to heart, and as a consequence, have a very checkered past of bad behavior on the night of the Law Revue.

Last year's Law Revue started off innocently enough. Me and three friends went to dinner at a nearby Mexican restaurant and got many margarita pitchers. We all drank a lot, but I feel like drank the most, mainly just because of my behavior later. So we went to the show. It was moderately funny but at intermission I decided I needed more to drink. Unfortunately for me and my friends my school is not really near a bar that you can just go into and get a quick drink or a gas station where you can just buy a single (here in DC no beer is sold in gas stations). The grocery store that sells beer was closed. We were basically SOL....or were we?

Ex-bf lives in the neighborhood around school, and I knew he had a pretty good stash of vodka, so I called him, having not talked to him at all since the breakup and inform him that I will be at his door in 5 minutes to pick up some alcohol. Eileen, in her infinite wisdom, gave me the keys of her car so that I could drive there to be faster. When Rebecca and I got to his door he was there to greet me with a handle of vodka and a bottle of triple sec in a brown paper shopping bag. "No, no, no!" I exclaimed, "we need a PORTABLE!" He was highly amused by my behavior and let me in so that I could mix a portable. He did not have any small bottle so I proceeded to mix a vast amount of vodka, with a liberal amount of triple sec, and a tiny amount of cranberry juice. Basically making a giant Cosmo. We took the portable back to the school and passed it around during the second act. It was strong, and in my hands it was gone pretty quickly. That is why I do not remember the second act at all.

The rest of the night had to be pieced together by my friends. Apparently I started to yell and whoop in the middle of the show at the actors from my section. After the show in the elevator ride down to the lobby, I chatted with a couple about how I just saw my ex-bf for the first time since our break up and I thought I handled it pretty well. That being said when the elevator doors slid open I immediately went to the bathroom next to the guard stand and threw up. My friends had to drag me out to the car where I was taken home with my head out the window the whole time. I have no idea how they got me up to my room but the next thing I knew I was waking up, fully clothed, on my bed with my earrings I wore the night before in a glass of water next to my bed. I am that girl. Inappropriate Drunk Girl. Girl Who Threw Up in the Law School. Yep, thats me.

So last night, I did not want a repeat of the same events, but I did want to drink. The show is cute, but way more funny when you are drunk. We went to the same Mexican restaurant. Maybe that was the wrong choice. I have come to realize that as much as I love margaritas and tequila, they just do not do anything good for me. They make me more drunk than I would be if I drank the same quantity of a different spirit. Anyway, I had tons of margaritas, went to the show nice and drunk. I won't even say buzzed, I will say drunk. I was not going to drink anything at intermission because I had a 9AM doctor's appointment this morning and also had to teach. But of course intermission rolls around and Ena wants a beer. Luckily we had an option this time, the restaurant next to our school is under new ownership and management so it was much more feasible for us to grab a beer there. We basically ran in to the bar and I proceeded to have two beers in about five minutes. Luckily this time, I do remember the second act. It was funny and cute. But you can tell I am drunk when I start hugging all the actors afterwards congratulating them.

I made it out of the law school without incident. And I met the Chrises and Liz in Cleveland Park for a drink or two at a new lounge. I got two Jack and Gingers and watching the bartender make them, I am lucky I walked out of there, they were at least half jack, but probably more. Funnily enough, it was the exact same place the Latino/a Law Students Association was having their happy hour. This is funny because ex-bf is in that organization. Luckily he wasn't there or I didn't see him, but all the guys he would call "his boys" were. I wanted to dance so I started to dance with his roommate. This is where things got fuzzy but I do vaguely recall his roommate saying that he would not hook up with me. And I remember thinking, "Thank God, because I have zero interest in you whatsoever" but I think I may have just said "Well I don't want to hook up with you either." I just wanted to dance! None of the other "boys" would dance with me. I can only imagine how drunk I was acting. And apparently I call and text ex-bf all the time. I wouldn't not have said that was a complete like say three-four months ago, although the communication was most certainly mutual. But I would say now it is laughable to think or say that I am communicating with ex-bf at all.

Anyway, not as bad as last year, but still a story nonetheless. I cannot believe I dance with roomie, and I cannot believe how drunk I got. But I regret it none. Although, I did have a really rough time at my doctor's appointment....

Breaking out of the Blah

2006-02-22T11:41:00.000-08:00

Ok, I know that just yesterday, a scant 24 hours ago, I was complaining about my blah. And it is true, I was feeling blah. BUT a few things have happened to help lift the blah, and it just goes to show that the little things really do matter in life.

First I finally got my exam change approved, so now I can go to my best friend/college roommate wedding in AZ in May. After giving me a moderately hard time and continuing to ask me for documetation, the registrar finally came through. It is not even really my fault, I feel. My school does not post the exam schedule until a month into the semester. If I knew it earlier I could have made other arrangements. And seeing as it is my only scheduled exam, I clearly was not trying to pull a fast one by taking it 16 hours later than when I originally was supposed to take it. This school has problems, and exam scheduling is one of them. I am so excited for the wedding. First, most major college friends will be there. Second, it is in AZ in MAY....WARMTH, HOTTT! On a day like today with gray clouds and cold, wet snow, just the thought of how beautiful and hot it will be in AZ makes me warm inside. Third, although the phrase "always a bridesmaid never a bride" comes to mind, I am excited about my dress and about being in this wedding.

Second, my federal courts class was cancelled. My first cancelled class of the semester. I didn't do the reading for it, it is a class I am feeling particularly blah about, and it is just hard. So not having it, although I am now stuck here until the rest of my classes, feels like a little bit of a vacation. Also, there is a slight, slim chance my Admin law class at 6pm will be cancelled because the prof is out of town and his plane lands at 4pm, and if it is rainy and foggy and slightly delayed, it might not be worth it for him to risk it to rush here to teach....a little wishful thinking never hurt anyone.

Third, I had a pleasant surprise when I went to teach this morning. The kids were in an assembly, so for a half-an-hour, Eileen and I got to just sit in an empty classroom and shoot the shit about the Olympics and Law Revue (insert jazz hands....more on that later) and just have fun. And then the person I am now dubbing The Only Cute Teacher At Woodrow Wilson Senior High School walked in looking for a French class but sans a ring. Like a child, I was dumbstruck by his cuteness and totally flaked and forgot to ask his name. So now I have a mission, find out who he is and ask him out (maybe, I am not the best at asking guys out....I am more of a mumbler and a bumbler). Both Eileen and I flaked, because we both thought he was cute. The second he walked out we exchanged a glance that said the same thing...."where have you been hiding, The Only Cute Teacher At Woodrow Wilson Senior High School?" We shall see if this progresses to anything. And even if it doesn't, at least it helped me shed some of my blah.

Another way I am trying to break out of the blah is by doing a "Biggest Loser" competition with the bride and another friend to see who can lose the most weight before the wedding. It began this week and I have failed miserably so far....spurred on by free food, macaroni and cheese, and free mini-candy, but I am going to start working out hardcore, that always makes me feel better and releases endorphins which makes you happy and happy people just don't feel blah. I have walked to or from school everyday this week, which helps.

I'll keep you updated on the progress of the competition, let me just say though, the bride is serious...I need to get my game face on...grrrr

The Unbearable Lightness of Blah

2006-02-21T12:09:00.000-08:00

I am having a blah week. Nay, a blah month.

And by blah I mean I am in a funk. I don't want to do anything, especially my school work. I don't want to clean my apartment (although it is really not that bad). All my friends have things keeping them busy...trial competitions, clinic clients, founder's day events, jobs, engagements, weddings....I have none of the above. Not that I want any of the above, and I completely understand they need to prioritize, but it just is hard when you have free time and then no one to share it with. But do I really have free time? I am still teaching, writing my comment, going to class, and looking for a job....but...well....it can get frustrating.

Also adding to the blah is my classload. Although all my classes are immensely pertinent they are all blah. The subject matter is boring. The professors, though they try, are not engaging. Federal Courts is hard, so hard it makes it blah.

I saw Brokeback Mountain and even walked away from that feeling blah. I think it was too hyped up for me. Hyped up as this dramatic love story, universal in its effect, and beautifully portraying a deep, life-long, but forbidden love. I think it was too much hype. I couldn't even muster any tears at the most dramatic scenes, and I am a crier...a bawler. I just did not find their love that deep. I mean, I am not a stupid person, I understand subtlety, but this was so subtle it was not intimate. Only with the closing scene do you see the depth of the love....and maybe there is something beautiful and tragic about it, but I just felt blah about it. I am not saying it is a bad movie, it certainly is not, but it just wasn't for me. My biggest blah complaint about it is the guitar strumming to punctuate emotional exchanges....it got on my nerves...clearly that is nitpicky, but, hey, this is my blog.

The silver lining of this blah month is that I will be on Spring Break soon, and having the time of my life....sooo excited!

Family Secrets

2006-02-20T12:32:00.000-08:00

This past weekend I went home to Richmond to visit my family. No particular occasion, just to drop in and see how things are going. And I have to say this, normally I am happy to leave my Richmond time and get back up to DC and my life and my apartment, but after this weekend, for the first time in a while, I was a little sad to leave my family in Richmond. Don't get me wrong, I love my family very much and they treat me great and I always have a great time, but I am an adult now and I have a very separate and distinct life that I like here in DC. I think the sadness was attached to two things. First, my parents were so happy to see me. They live a very routine life and since my sister lives at home they have never had the house to themselves or any kind of shake up in the routine of them being parents, so they are grateful when I come down to shake things up and tell new stories and act more like their adult daughter than their daughter who lives with them. Secondly, this visit was just a great visit mainly because of the dinner on Saturday night. My mom cooked a huge, delicious meal, and my family drank wine and Sambuca and Amaretto and just relaxed and talked and had fun. I learned a lot more about my family and my parents that night.

My mom never really opens up about her father for many painful reasons, but on Saturday I found out more about him. I found out more about why my mom chose Appalachian State over NC State for school. I found out more about my dad's father. But the best "family secret" came from my mom. My dad's mother, an Italian immigrant, my nonna, is probably one of the best people ever to grace my life. She was strong-willed, independent, very determined, and left an indelible image on anybody she met. I am named after her, something that matters very deeply and I wear with pride. I wish I knew her longer than eight years because her truly individual and remarkable nature has only become apparent to me recently now that I am old enough to understand more about the difficulties of her life. She was the mother of four sons, my dad being the youngest. She wanted nothing more than to have a daughter, and she did, but that daughter died shortly after childbirth. So she wanted a daughter, and she found the daughter she never had in my mother. My mom is 15 years younger than my dad. In many ways, my mom needed to learn a lot and my nonna was there to teach her. They talked a lot apparently and confided in each other greatly (including my nonna's recipe for sauce....best sauce on earth...some will say that nonna taught them and they make the best, but in my family only one person really got the recipe and that was my mom).

So on to the family secret time....on Saturday, we were talking about nonna and how fantastic she was and my mom said that nonna never really lived a life of regret, but that there were three things that she regretted. My dad started to flip out "she didn't regret anything....she lived life to the fullest!" But it is true, nonna told my mom things that she did not tell her sons, for obvious reasons as you will read. The first regret was that she never had a daughter, which we all knew. The second regret was that she never remarried after my dad's father passed away. And the third regret was that she only had 18 years of active sex in her lifetime. After my initial shock that my mom was talking about sex in front of my dad, everybody started laughing and nodding their head in a way that clearly showed that we all understand why that is something to regret. I cannot even imagine it, only 18 years of active sex. Granted, I am no where near having that many years under my belt, but how hard it must have been to grow up in a time and society where sex was not looked on as something healthy or natural or a choice, but instead looked on as perfunctory, obligatory, and dirty if not within the confines of marriage. My nonna is the only person I know who was born in the 19th century. She defied many of the stereotypes and gender roles of her time, but I guess there was some that she could just not escape.

For me, mainly because I do not know too much about my family history (and as I learned on Saturday night, for good reason do I not know too much) anytime I get to hear more about my family, especially the remarkable person that was my nonna, it makes for good times.

My Valentine's Day Story

2006-02-16T07:02:00.000-08:00

I am supposed to be prepping a moot court argument I have to do this afternoon for a bunch of high school kids at the National Youth Leadership Forum. Normally I do not volunteer to be judged and ridiculed by people 8-10 years younger than me, but this gig pays. A whopping $50, and as this semester's budget is tight, in between my trips to other places and my drinking my weight in tequila (and I weigh a lot), $50 can go a long way. So in spite of the fact that I know every single one of these kids will be thinking "she is in law school? I could do way better, I am a genius" I still choose to blog as opposed to prep for the afternoon.

I have a lot of friends that have significant others. A lot. Like dozens. So I enjoy asking each and every one of them how their Valentine's Day went. I enjoy hearing everything from the romantic to the absurd. And I know people like to show how sweet their man or woman can be. Of course none of them ask me how my V-Day was, because I am bitter and alone. I actually have never had a "valentine" except for freshman year in high school I got a box of chocolates and some card he made on his computer that, if I remember correctly, had some sort of insect on it. Of course, now the boy in question is gay, but I remember getting that box of chocolates and I was so happy. He is a great guy. I was supposed to have a valentine last year, but I broke up with him about 10 days before the day, and now I wear the pajama pants that I bought to give him all the time. I wore them last night to watch LOST.

Anyway, my V-Day began as any other, I woke up, got ready to go to school and went to school where I worked at a bake sale table for my teaching program. If there is one thing I am good at, it is badgering people into buying baked goods, but I was never a girl scout. I just guilted people into giving us money. Of course it helped that they had a lot to choose from. I worked with my good friend and co-teacher Eileen and one of the professors in the program who once rubbed my back in a creepy way. So as people passed, I would say "come get a cookie for your valentine, if you don't have a valentine, buy one for me." And the professor just loved that, he even said that line would work on him. To which Eileen gave one of her "no he didn't" glares from behind her glasses. I then went to law review office hours, where I could not get on the internet and totally freaked out.

Then it was time to go the bar. Yes, that is right, the bar. At roughly 3:30 my friends and I began our V-Day. Margaritas all around. And actually my closest single friends were there, and we were the mainstay group with the coupled people floating in and out. Then one friend came to stay....you see her bf lives not here, close to here, but not here, and to show his V-Day love, he sent her an email. "Hey, oh yeah, by the way, happy valentine or whatever" I actually do not know if that is what it said, but in my head that is what it said. So to lament that sad story we decided to have about 4 soco and lime shots apiece. So that was my V-Day, how romantic.

Last night I went to Liz's house to watch LOST, which I love, but not for the sci-fi reasons Jen loves it. We drank some good Greek wine (who knew?) and she gave me a Valentine's gift. A white chocolate penis pop. Yes, she received it from a co-worker, and she thought "I want to get rid of this. Who can I give this to, who would appreciate the humor?" Then a picture of me drifted across her mind. And then her bf, my friend Chris came home, and was shocked to hear how long my dry spell has been, I mean shocked....he is not the only one.

Dependence

2006-02-15T10:49:00.000-08:00

I am dependent on a lot of things. Cable TV, the internet as a distraction, mouthwash, long showers, my friends, my family, and the kindness of strangers. Also I am dependent on technology, in a way. Dependence or laziness, I am not sure which, but I am happy to have grown up and go to law school in the technology age. I am dependent on spell check. But alas, spell check does not pick up mere misuse of words or typos that are still spelled correctly. Technology can't save one from sheer stupidity.

All that being said, below, I am not obsessed with Joe Walsh's guitar rift, I am obsessed with his riff. Joe Walsh did not have a falling out with his guitar, with The Eagles maybe, but not with his guitar. Check out the song, it is a simple riff, but it has some remarkable heart to it.

I Can't Complain, but Sometimes I Still Do

2006-02-14T12:14:00.000-08:00

That title really has no relation to this particular post other than that I am obsessed with Joe Walsh's guitar rift from "Life's Been Good" and that on this blog I complain a lot, but I really don't have much to complain about.

Anyway, today, I realized that I am old. I am old for many reasons, but the main one is that the students I teach think that I am old. When other people think you are old, then it is hard to escape the realities of age. Sure, I am still young relative to the general population, but I am old relative to pop culture or things that I like but are not geared for my age group. Today as I got off of the Metro, I ran into one of my students, very late for school. I did the whole, "you are in detention trouble already, and I don't want you to get in trouble, I like having you in my class, you were the only one making sense yesterday." And I thought, "dude, I am old" to be giving a lecture like that. And then when we parted he said..."goodbye Ms.Marrin" which is my name, but still, it hit me. Here I thought I was cool with my iPod and denim jacket and cute scarf and big sunglasses, but there is a segment of the population that I will always be uncool to, namely that segment that I teach.

Livin' Life Jackie Collins Style

2006-02-13T07:44:00.000-08:00

We all have seen it or read it. The wronged woman with big '80s hair on the Lifetime movie or Dynasty or Danielle Steele or Jackie Collins novel is driving her boat of a car (usually a Cadillac) and she spies the one who wronged her. That glint in her eyes tells you what is about to happen. She casually waves at him, and then guns the motor and runs him over. She gets off in the end, of course, because of some plea that rivals temporary insanity because she was wronged so badly.

So that is not exactly me...I mean I do not have big hair and I do not drive a boat (I drive a cherry red Hyundai Elantra and I love it). But I did almost hit my ex-boyfriend with my car the other day. I was turning right onto the street where our law school is and where he also happens to live (Mass Ave.). So naturally I was looking left at oncoming traffic, none was coming, so I turned. Little did I know that at that same exact time ex-bf chose to dart across traffic to the other side of the street to catch a bus. There was no squeal of brakes, but there definitely was a jump on my part and a stomp on the brakes. So it was not as close as it could have been, he didn't have to dive out of the way or anything, I don't even know if he saw....but he probably did, and , it was close.

Now if I had happened to hit him, that would have been bad. Clearly, it would have been bad, but even though he was jaywalking and would have gotten the ticket (DC cops are crazy with the jaywalking, a former chairman of the NEA was jaywalking in my neighborhood and got hit by a car and his children found a $5 jaywalking ticket in his personal effects when they went to go visit their father who was in a coma in the hospital). And the ticket would have assigned blame, but that would not stop ex-bf from suing me I am sure. You see, he is an extremely litigious person. And litigious is putting it nicely. Nothing is ever his fault ever. The breakup and ensuing mess is all my fault if you ask him. Hell, it is even my fault that he cheated on me. Observe:

After we broke up we did the obligatory (maybe not obligatory, but we did it anyway) get-a-drink-and-try-to-be-friends thing. While we were getting our drink, he confessed (upon my asking, but still) that he did indeed have sex with a girl in a stock room while we were together. Now no one I know actually believes that it was in a stock room, but everybody believes that he did sleep with someone else. Well, after telling me this, he points to me accusatorily and says "Do you remember what I told you that night we had dinner at Guapo's?" Of course I did not, so he kindly refreshed me: "I warned you that I had never been faithful to any girlfriend!" He said as if he had just dished out the most unassailable point ever. I responded, "So?" Ex-bf: "Well I warned you, and by choosing to stay with me you assumed the risk that I would cheat on you, so it is really not my fault." Assuming the risk is a legal term every first year learns and only those who have no common sense use in everyday parlance. I just looked at him and my response: "That is bullshit, you know it is bullshit, I know it is bullshit, so we will just move on." And he tried to sleep with me later on that night. He was a winner.

Anyway, if I did happen to hit him I am sure that he would find a way to make it my fault and sue me. Of course I would just tell the judge of the multitude of ways ex-bf is an asshole and has wronged me in one way or another and I would get off. We always do.

Sunday Rituals

2006-02-12T11:47:00.000-08:00

Every Sunday, I have a few rituals that I cherish very much for pretty much unknown reasons. The only reasons I can think of to do these things is procrastinating, but now they have become entrenched in my Sunday behavior that I cannot get away from them. Similar to people who brunch, or do a crossword puzzle, or watch every conceivable sports programming on Sundays. Sometimes I have Saturday night fun to rehash with friends, but this weekend is not one of those weekends. So I jumped right into my rituals.

This Sunday, things went differently. I woke up and did work before anything, which is shocking and a little disturbing, but now I have most of the work out of the way which is gratifying. I sort of had no choice but to do work first, though, because my internet connection was not functioning properly. But once it was fixed, let the rituals begin...

First, I check postsecret and read the new postcards. This Sunday, in honor of Valentine's Day, I suppose, all of the post cards had hearts on them and discussed love, loss of love, unrequited love, BIG love. And all I could think is, so what? I know that is awful, but out of all of the things to be tainted by the commercial horror that is Valentine's Day, why my postsecret? Now, granted, most of the posts were not mushy and not gushy and not commercialized, most were about the nitty gritty of love, but still, I didn't need to see it on postsecret.

Part of the reason why I did not need to see it on postsecret is because my other Sunday ritual involves nothing but mushy, gushy love and is always about life-long love. That is right, I check the wedding announcements from my hometown of Richmond, VA. I cannot really explain why I do this. I started to do it when my cousin got married and I was checking for his engagement, then wedding announcement, and it has now become habit. Also, the fact that every week someone I went to high school with (or people younger than me that went to my high school) are engaged or married. And I enjoy looking at them and laughing at them. I always thought most of them were mindless automatons during high school, and now many are proving it by the spectacles that are their weddings and marrying people with names like "Hunter Warrington Puddifoot Martin IV." Many of my good, great, lifelong friends are getting engaged and married, but their weddings seem to be more sincere and more loving, probably because I like them. To be fair, all of the people that I laugh at I do not keep in contact with at all. So I do not know what they are like today. But in my experiences with the people I went to high school with, change was not something that was looked at as neither necessary nor beneficial. I can't prove that these people are still the "mean girls" of my high school, but I can certainly say it.

To illustrate the point in a minor way: I was talking to one of my high school classmates and she informed me that one of the guys from our class was engaged. She said that the last time she talked to him he waxed poetic about how he would live in a mud hut with a dirt floor and no bed if it meant he was doing something worthwhile with his life. Then she informed me that his intended is a lawyer whose father is a cardiologist. Something tells me I see no mud huts in his future. Not that some of my colleagues in the legal profession would not live in a mud hut, I just don't think it is in this particular lawyer's future.

OK, the questions/comments running through your head:
1) Q: How bitter are you?
A: Very, I did not like high school and the only comfort about high school I get is by retroactively laughing at my classmates.........
2) Q: You're just jealous that you cannot have the type of wedding or love that these people are having
A: Maybe. The bottom line is I do not know what kind of wedding or love I can or cannot have. I have been in love once, and that taught me to be more careful with love in the future. And yes, right now I could not have these amazing galas to celebrate my love, but I am not getting married right now or anytime soon. So probably I am jealous because I am not in love presently and I probably cannot have the weddings these people are having, but you never know....

All that being said, though, this week's wedding announcements were not up! I have no doubt that this has to do with the snow in some way and Central Virginia's complete inability to deal with anything cold that falls from the sky (visions of the facilities maintenance staff at WM chipping away at ice on the sidewalk with a hoe I am sure the colonists used to plant lettuce or something). So I have not gotten to see the latest batches of announcements! Alas, my rituals have been off all morning.

Right now I am contemplating walking around the snow-covered city. I think there is something cool with the idea of the Mall covered in snow. But the snow is probably melted and in the gray stage. But if I actually go out and see for myself, when I come back for the rest of my work and Grey's Anatomy then I will be much more grateful for my warm, dry apartment.

Riding the Storm

2006-02-11T09:44:00.000-08:00

Apparently tonight we are supposed to get 6-10 inches of snow. I hate snow and everything it stands for, cold, wet, turns to gray slush. It is pretty for like 2 hours, and then it stops. Last year during the "big snow" I felt so crazy being cooped up in my group house of horrors that I voluntarily shoveled the steps and the walk. This time, I bought some beer, diet coke, and tortillas to ride out the storm. But I will believe it when I see it, last time weather.com had a black cloud with snow coming from it NOTHING fell, which shocked the local schools who cancelled classes on the mere threat of a looming black cloud issuing snow.

Let the Games Begin...

2006-02-11T09:36:00.000-08:00

Anyone who knows me knows I am a big dork and knows how I feel about the Olympics. I am the person that has opening ceremony parties, and I am the person who cries when the Koreas walk out under one flag. I am the person who marvels at the story of the one Kenyan athlete at the winter games, a cross-country skiier named Philip Boit, who finished last at Nagano but was greeted by the winner, Bjorn Daehlie, and was so touched by that gesture he named one of his children Daehlie. I am the person who gets goosebumps when the acrobats on wires formed the dove of peace. I love it all. I love the parade of nations and seeing these athletes, for whom just getting to Turin was the triumph, and now they are there to savor it. I love people competing for the pride of their country. I love it all.

What else do you expect from someone who played "the fictional character I would most like to bang..." (Atticus for obvious reasons, Stanley for more animalistic reasons) or "the historical figure I would most like to bang..." (Julius Caesar, sure he was bald and epileptic, but the power, come on) at the local college bar in between pitchers of Starr Hill Amber?

I am a RAGING Conservative....and the OC

2006-02-10T12:44:00.000-08:00

Well, maybe this change is not really law school's fault, but more the fact that the more I get involved in the education system and the more I teach the youth of America, the more I realize that schools need much more local control to decide how to pursue their own educational goals and how to spend their money. Also schools need more leeway in disciplining kids for things that liberals would normally call students exercising their "freedom of speech." So, yes, that is right, in terms of the education system in American I am a raging conservative in some respects. I am ashamed to admit it. I seriously want to cry. I am not a supporter of No Child Left Behind though. Because it takes away local control by demanding school districts do many things and meet impossible standards to get federal funding. There are lawsuits out there about this (CT, MI, and OR I believe?) where states want to be free from the shackels of the overbearing (Republican!!) government. The school system in America is bleeding to death, and overregulation is not working. I don't know what will work, but I am arguing in my "comment" that schools need greater leeway to discipline cyberbulliers. (I don't want to get into it, but what I am arguing is pretty frickin' conservative)

I also see this change in almost a larger, paradigm shifting way. If I am feeling that the fed government is overbearing these days, me a bleeding heart tax and spend liberal, then there is something wrong. When the Republicans become the party of BIG government while still disregarding the needs of American citizens, something is wrong. I don't know where the democratic ideology is going to shift in 2008, hardly anyone does as the party itself seems to be floundering pretty severely, but I feel it will shift as far away from appearing BIG government as possible. My how the times have changed.

And for those of you who managed to stick through that post, I have a special treat. I have never watch the OC until this season. Many of my law school friends watch it and I have joined the weekly ritual as a pre-party staging area. Well recently, I was introduced to this article which makes me love the OC even more. Anytime that you can dorkify something that is so deliciously simple and trashy as the OC, well then I am in love. And my favorite character on the IR scene is Israel (who knew I would be saying that?)

In Training

2006-02-08T11:54:00.000-08:00

In exactly 4 weeks and 33 minutes I will be boarding a plane to go to a destination I have never been to before, but was born to go to. I am supposed to keep this location secret as it is a surprise that I will be in this city at the same time this other person is. But I don't think she knows about my blog, just in case though, I will not reveal the destination....

So, sorry to keep you in the dark about it, but I will describe my preparation for this trip and you can try to draw the conclusion yourself. I am in training. I am trying to get back to the days of WM when I would go out, wake up feeling refreshed, and then go back out. There were several weeks where I was drinking every night of the week at WM. Not that that is something to be proud about, but I kind of am proud about it. Anyway, times have changed, and I do not have the same constitution I used to have. Part of it is that my tastes have changed. You will find me drinking martinis and eating vodka soaked olives instead of chugging cheap beer and eating loaded cheese fries. I cannot stand cheap beer anymore. Don't get me wrong, I will drink it, say, if it is in a keg and it is the Super Bowl (I was in so much pain on Monday), but I prefer the harder stuff now. Part of it is that I am much busier and have much less time to recover from a rough night.

But I need to bring my A game on this vacation. Two former sorority sisters whom I never hang out with really and are younger than me will be there and I will be rooming with them and they can bring it. And I think they think I can still bring it. Hence the training.

I began training on Sunday. My friend Rachel had a keg and a big party for the Super Bowl. I had a minimum of 12 beers while trying to really pay attention to the game and ignore other activities. It worked, but I also smoked too many cigarettes and double apple in the hookah, so the next day was awful. My head was cloudy, my vision blurred, and my lungs were nicotine filled. Not a good start. Last night I continued with the training and went to the best place for dirty martinis which happens to be next to my school. I got more drunk than I intended, but I feel better today than I did on Monday. So I am progressing. While I am in this magical place for vacation though, I cannot get really drunk and expect to function without sleep. I just need to maintain a good buzz.

Other tactical training options include building up some color with Jergens Natural Glow moisturizer, retouching my hair (the read is fading pretty hardcore), and finding the perfect place for a bikini wax.

I cannot wait!

Human Sexuality

2006-02-07T10:49:00.000-08:00

This morning I had an appointment at the gynecologist. Yes, they may be too much information, but ask any of my friends and they will tell you that I am too much information. To know me, is to know everything about me. I cannot keep secrets about myself (other people, yes, but me, no). I don't know why. Maybe because when I was younger I kept everything inside and once I realized how good I felt to let it out, I couldn't stop. Maybe it is just because I like being the center of attention. There are many reasons, but in the end, the bottom line is that I like to tell people about what is going on in my life. Everything.

So as I sat in the waiting room, which was rather crowded as this OB/GYN group has 8 doctors, I had to take a second to think about all of the women in there and how amazing it is to be a woman. And at times it is heartbreaking too. I don't know individually why each woman was in there. But there was a young couple with extremely happy looks on their face, I like to think they just got pregnant and were there for their first sonogram. There were a few older women in the twilight of their life. There were women, I am sure that are searching and hoping to get pregnant. There were women who probably were there because they do not want to get pregnant. There probably were women there for their regular visit to their GYN and some there because some test came back irregular. I just reflected briefly on the stages of life and the choices women have to make. I thought of my friends who are engaged, married, contemplating motherhood, contemplating new jobs, contemplating new boyfriends. I don't know where I am going in life, I don't know how I am going to get anywhere and if I am going to get anywhere with someone next to me. But I realized that just having friends there helps through all of life's trials and triumphs.......and then I thought that my "pre-party" mix on my iPod was not appropriate to listen to before my appointment and switched it over to my Interpol mix.

Now after that overly melodramatic and depressing thought, to a fun game for all of my girl friends to play: during finals, someone who was searching for a way to waste time, IMed me an article on the Economist.com that has since found its way onto other websites. The article described these scientists who began a research study looking at the size of testicles in male mammals and comparing them to the size of their brains. The study mainly focused on bats and other small mammals, but the implication was clear.....male humans who have large testicles have tiny brains, and those who have small testicles have large brains. Now the person who sent me this no doubt correlated brain size to how smart you are, hoping to indicate to me that he is some kind of genius because he has tiny testicles. But brain size does not dictate how smart you are, it is how you use your brain. But forgetting that little caveat, ladies, I want you to go back in your memory and think of the guys you have been with. And then think of how big their brains must be or might not be. It is a fun game to play. My past indicates a few things about the guys I have been with, namely that they must have had smaller brains, but not all of the guys, mind you. And for all of you guys out there that are worried or freaked out or disgusted that women do play these games, oh well.

I am B-A-C-K

2006-02-06T20:23:00.000-08:00

OK, I know no one is reading this anymore. Even Cristin (who is a much more faithful blogger than I could ever be) took a link to my blog off of her own fantastic blog. I didn't send out holiday cards this year, the phone is hardly used, and email even less. And I don't know why I have been so lacking in updating and communicating. To be sure, I am busy, but not horribly more busy than I was last year. I have no real excuse. What the current impetus for reposting is, I cannot pinpoint, but today I was walking past a restaurant next to my school that has a pretty cute head bartender who makes really good dirty martinis (which probably makes him more cute than he would normally be), a family was walking in the restaurant and the dad said to his two pretty young daughters "OK, time to use our restaurant voices." And I promptly thought about a post based solely on hearing that man say that and how that does not work with 4-year-olds. Nothing does, exempt severe punishment.....just kidding. I miss my kids.

But I have decided to blog more consistently now. And yes, I said that during my two posts last semester. But this time I mean it. I was rehashing some recent events in my life to my law school friend Ena, and I realize how ridiculous my life is sometimes, and it feels almost unfair to not share it. Most of the ridiculousness comes from personal actions and personal choices that I make myself...like drinking seven jack and gingers before 7pm and charging half of them to some guy I go to school with because I can. Nights usually do not end well that begin with seven jack and gingers. Anyway, I digress. For those of you still reading, I will give you some vignettes, some words of wisdom, but mostly I will just complain a lot.

My first complaint is about law school (shocking). One of my best friends in the world is getting married in May. And my school, in its infinite wisdom, does not publish the exam schedule til a month into the semester, after add-drop, and after the time I need to make travel arrangements. And sure enough, my one exam they schedule the day after the wedding, which is in Arizona, and as I discovered, it is physically impossible for me to be back in DC in time. So I have no alternative other than to ask for a deferral. I just want to defer it to the next day. Not too much hassle really, but apparently I need everything from proof of travel to proof of the wedding date to signing over a contract that gives my first born child to the registrar. And after I did all that, I still got "we will let you know if we need anything else from you." How infuriating is that.

So that complaint is not really my fault, but this is--sort of. It has been a while sense I have had a satisfying hook up. A lot of that is self-imposed, I am trying to tone it down a little. A lot of that is just not getting out to meet anybody new. A lot of it is when I do go out I have a lot to drink and proceed to embarass myself mainly by hitting on people that I know are not into me or I know I am not into them. And normally having a "dry spell" as some call it does not bother me, but I am almost to the point of being bothered. To be sure I have had some offers, including an IM proposition that I am pretty sure was a joke, but still disturbing nonetheless (I am really bad at reading emotions on IM which I think makes sense, but yet, everybody who talks to me on IM knows exactly how I feel--I have a bad poker face even in cyberspace). But reading Larissa's blog about her search is starting to put my search in perspective. Not that I am going to start writing a blog about this, but in the interest of being honest to my admittedly small group of readers, I felt I should mention my current frustration in that small part of my life.

In other news, I realize that I am probably pretty sloppy and messy and maybe some of those group house problems last year that I vehemently complained so much about were my fault. But it is more fun and comforting to blame the four boys instead. I love living alone, in a real apartment, with furniture and my own tv and my own bathroom (first time in my life I have my own bathroom), but the time it takes to clean is better spent right now watching dvds of Sex and the City (which I now know so well, that almost any event in my life and my friends' life I can relate to an episode of Sex and the City which I think is getting annoying for my friends, but I love.....for example, when Carrie is contemplating having sex with Big in "I Heart NY" and Samantha says "Sex with an ex can be depressing. If it's good, you don't have it anymore; if it's bad, you just had sex with an ex." and all I can say is that truer words were never spoken) or I spend my time trying to find internet leaks of Badly Drawn Boy's rumored new album. Yes, I truly have a thrilling life, I never promised anything with this comeback.

OK, so there you go, my first narcissistic, rambling post. Get ready for more.