Breakfast with Stephy. Topic: His resemblance to Steve Carrell is more pronounced than ever. I cannot make this up, you'd really have to see a picture. But, in the interests of privacy, I will not post one. Trust me on this one.
Today, we introduced the dance party into the law review office. Chief, while approving the idea of the dance party, will not participate. Lame. It's pissing rain and no one wants to study for the heart-attack inducement that is finals, so instead, we spin around in our office chairs to "Come on Eileen."
Productivity. We haz it.
We haz also disspelled the rumor that Law Review is a productive, studious sort of organization. Between the chair-spinning dance party, people randomly breaking into Do Re Mi in a train station, Mice mauling nursing home residents, Claire's ultimate playlist, Showtunes, and the extensive discussion of the merits of Newsies, I think we've frightened the prospective students. Also, WHY bring prospective students here now? I think the sight of me alone should scare them off. Add in my impression of Claire getting hot in her graduation gown while listening to "Buttons" and I think it's a lock.
On the subject of Newsies, Christian Bale, WHY do you break my heart by saying "Time has healed" the Newsies "wound?" Now I'M wounded. C'mon now, embrace Newsies, SEIZE THE DAY!
I have picked my Westlaw prize. It means I have to get like, a thousand points a month until graduation, but dammit, I want the Calphalon pots! And, as Kati points out, it's not like I'll have a wedding registry anytime in the next few years. I wonder, where's my shower for surviving 10 years of heartbreak and jackasses (and sometimes jackasses that break your heart)? Don't I deserve an ice bucket? Don't I deserve matching dishes? Or a set of really good knives? I need a set of really good knives!
Kati will not let me have knives right now.
On another note, Kati, my avenging angel, has taken justice into her own hands with a well-timed Twix theft. There is a land called Passive Agressiva and Kati is their Queen. Moral of the story: Justice is swift and it steals your candy.
Unfortunately, none of this is conducive to studying. I should be more concerned about the exam I have tomorrow. But I do have a kick-ass outline.
The undergrads continue to wait in droves for study passes. It's all I can do not to scream "RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" Another day, when I have not already used up my disruption quota for the day.
Discoveries via Facebook: I took the "Which Musical Theatre Leading Lady Are You?" quiz and I'm Elphaba. "Oh, you're a witch and you fly, big surprise!" Kati embraces my witchness more than the average bear.
Tomorrow, I learn how professionally responsible I am. After that, I rediscover how irresponsible I know myself to be. Bachelorette weeekend with my roomies from college. I'm super excited because we havent all been together since we graduated.
See? I'm not totally dead inside.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
The ashes will scatter
I had a really funny post planned for today. Full of the goods on drunken kickball, Tiny the Dinosaur, and how people in Michigan have never seen rain before.
But I can't do it. I just can't. I'm too empty tonight. Last night, I made an ass of myself and it cost me someone I love. Priest left me this afternoon and I just don't have it in me.
The humiliation isn't my problem. Plenty of people think I'm batshit crazy and it doesn't bug me. I'm lost and no amount of ranting will help me this time. So, I apologize for the tone. But if you can't love me at my worst, well, then I guess you don't deserve me at my best.
It was stupid and I don't remember most of it. I didn't think things would end this way. 24 hours ago I was happy, excited for spring, had a boyfriend who loved me, the prospect of the future, and the end of the year in my sights. And, in the blink of an eye, it's ashes. I have a heart--cold, hard, maybe--and now it's broken. People all over are probably collecting on or paying out on bets.
I'm lucky. I have amazing friends and family, who were there to catch me when I fell. Nikki, who picked me up (literally) and held me when I cried; D, who made sure she could see me and let me cry all over her 80s shirt and AJ who hung out with me on the couch and listened to me forever; Sara, who shows almost superhuman strength and listened and consoled me when my stupid problems aren't even in the same universe as what she's gone through; Natalie and Phillip who have amazing compassion for their gave up a fun Saturday night with teenage friends so the four of us could be together; Meghan, who called expecting gossip and got tears; Mama Roo, who talked to me until I felt sane again; Jennie for her unconditional loyalty; Vince who bought me donuts; Megan for her calm, collected outlook on life; Naomi for giving me a "mom" hug, even though she's only known me for three months; Emmy, who made me laugh; Elisa who found time before going out with her hubby to listen to me talk; Lisa for being there even though she's in Arizona; Al and June for the three-way parent hug and words of wisdom; Daddy Warbucks for the moral support; Aunt Debi for reassuring me that all is not lost; Aunt Betty for pure sympathy; Emma who's in Boston, but is here for me always; and Rusty, who's been here through it all. They've all told me, in their own ways, "you are not alone."
So, I end, surprisingly out of character, with a Bible verse I love and, not out of character, Siddalee Walker's take on it:
"Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh."
~Luke, or whoever really wrote it, didn't promise you'd prosper or be saved; he only promised that if you wept, then sooner or later you'd laugh.
But I can't do it. I just can't. I'm too empty tonight. Last night, I made an ass of myself and it cost me someone I love. Priest left me this afternoon and I just don't have it in me.
The humiliation isn't my problem. Plenty of people think I'm batshit crazy and it doesn't bug me. I'm lost and no amount of ranting will help me this time. So, I apologize for the tone. But if you can't love me at my worst, well, then I guess you don't deserve me at my best.
It was stupid and I don't remember most of it. I didn't think things would end this way. 24 hours ago I was happy, excited for spring, had a boyfriend who loved me, the prospect of the future, and the end of the year in my sights. And, in the blink of an eye, it's ashes. I have a heart--cold, hard, maybe--and now it's broken. People all over are probably collecting on or paying out on bets.
I'm lucky. I have amazing friends and family, who were there to catch me when I fell. Nikki, who picked me up (literally) and held me when I cried; D, who made sure she could see me and let me cry all over her 80s shirt and AJ who hung out with me on the couch and listened to me forever; Sara, who shows almost superhuman strength and listened and consoled me when my stupid problems aren't even in the same universe as what she's gone through; Natalie and Phillip who have amazing compassion for their gave up a fun Saturday night with teenage friends so the four of us could be together; Meghan, who called expecting gossip and got tears; Mama Roo, who talked to me until I felt sane again; Jennie for her unconditional loyalty; Vince who bought me donuts; Megan for her calm, collected outlook on life; Naomi for giving me a "mom" hug, even though she's only known me for three months; Emmy, who made me laugh; Elisa who found time before going out with her hubby to listen to me talk; Lisa for being there even though she's in Arizona; Al and June for the three-way parent hug and words of wisdom; Daddy Warbucks for the moral support; Aunt Debi for reassuring me that all is not lost; Aunt Betty for pure sympathy; Emma who's in Boston, but is here for me always; and Rusty, who's been here through it all. They've all told me, in their own ways, "you are not alone."
So, I end, surprisingly out of character, with a Bible verse I love and, not out of character, Siddalee Walker's take on it:
"Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh."
~Luke, or whoever really wrote it, didn't promise you'd prosper or be saved; he only promised that if you wept, then sooner or later you'd laugh.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Stockholm Syndrome
Sucking down Spring-themed cocktails on Friday night: Thanks to Kati, purveyor of all the best gossip, discussion turns to Professor Goodtime, who apparently had a fondness for students who were up for extra credit. Also for leaves of absence when Professor Spouse Goodtime found out. This leads to the inevitable round of "Would you Rather?: Sex with a Professor Edition." Much as I can see Goodtime getting le freak on and pickin' up a few tips on a Freedom Ride, I just don't understand how more than one student ended up on that particular Freedom Ride. (In my mind, Goodtime was of the activist/hippie/radical sort; plus, I liked playing with "Freedom Ride")
Overheard in the law review office:
"Spem, within 4 words of donor. Let's just try donor."
Also, LiLo allegedly scaled a wall to get into a party for a JCPenney clothing line launch. My, my, how are the mighty fallen.
Today, I thought Rick was going to choke a bitch. Neck Crack, while trying to figure out how to get out of child support so he can get monies for himself, informs Rick that he's been talking to another lawyer and his case is worth a half a bajillion dollars. I hunker down over my notepad and gleefully await the 'splosion that will surely take place.
And I wait.
Nothing. Dead Calm. WTF?
"I don't find fault with you, Neck Crack" he says.
Well, I do.
Time for school! Grateful for the excuse, I slip out the door and try to eat something before my meeting.
Today's meeting is fully of animations. I like it, it's like cartoons. Also, I have a bagel. Talk turns to a person new members can turn to if they don't want to ask their scary M.E questions. Charlie leans forward and stares at me. I smile and shrug. So, I'm a scary M.E., like anyone would have questioned that.
Today we continue our discussion of hate speech. Now, given that I frequently voice my desire to eviscerate some people, it may surprise you to find that I actually don't like hate speech. I personally think that people should find better things to do with their time than find ways to hate people in a large group, when there are perfectly legitimate reasons to hate individuals on their own merits. But, in any case, you should avoid showing this hatred by sneaking into someone's yard and lighting shit on fire. Presumably, not even the ACLU would back you on that.
(Sidenote: Bundle of contradictions that I am, though, I feel that if the KKK wants to put on their bedsheets, crack open some PBR, go out to a field and light a cross on fire, they're well within their rights to do so. Besides, there's always the chance the sheets might catch fire.) Let's face it, bigots who set their costumes afire=funny!
The hate speech discussion is actually drawing my interest more than usual, so I spend less than my alotted time on the facebook. But if Tender Tweeze and her alleged fiance, Stockholm, post any more pictures of them half-naked or making "sexy" faces (mostly, they just look constipated) or trying to touch their tongues together; I will personally nail them together and set them afire in a field. Also, the new Facebook format makes these pictures almost impossible to avoid. For some reason, they always crop up (SURPRISE!) in the ironically named "Highlights" column. And dammned if the most offensive pictures aren't the album cover. They are either trying to convince everyone that they really mean it, or they enjoy knowing that everyone screams "AH! DO NOT WANT!!!" when signing into facebook.
Karen somehow confuses Stockholm for Priest and wonders how I can be so calm about Tender Tweeze posting tongue touching pictures. We're off on a tangent now, so I go for it and try to see if I can make her yelp during class.
Message: To: Karen, From: Lola: is how Goodtime got students into bed.
Mission Accomplished.
Overheard in the law review office:
"Spem, within 4 words of donor. Let's just try donor."
Also, LiLo allegedly scaled a wall to get into a party for a JCPenney clothing line launch. My, my, how are the mighty fallen.
Today, I thought Rick was going to choke a bitch. Neck Crack, while trying to figure out how to get out of child support so he can get monies for himself, informs Rick that he's been talking to another lawyer and his case is worth a half a bajillion dollars. I hunker down over my notepad and gleefully await the 'splosion that will surely take place.
And I wait.
Nothing. Dead Calm. WTF?
"I don't find fault with you, Neck Crack" he says.
Well, I do.
Time for school! Grateful for the excuse, I slip out the door and try to eat something before my meeting.
Today's meeting is fully of animations. I like it, it's like cartoons. Also, I have a bagel. Talk turns to a person new members can turn to if they don't want to ask their scary M.E questions. Charlie leans forward and stares at me. I smile and shrug. So, I'm a scary M.E., like anyone would have questioned that.
Today we continue our discussion of hate speech. Now, given that I frequently voice my desire to eviscerate some people, it may surprise you to find that I actually don't like hate speech. I personally think that people should find better things to do with their time than find ways to hate people in a large group, when there are perfectly legitimate reasons to hate individuals on their own merits. But, in any case, you should avoid showing this hatred by sneaking into someone's yard and lighting shit on fire. Presumably, not even the ACLU would back you on that.
(Sidenote: Bundle of contradictions that I am, though, I feel that if the KKK wants to put on their bedsheets, crack open some PBR, go out to a field and light a cross on fire, they're well within their rights to do so. Besides, there's always the chance the sheets might catch fire.) Let's face it, bigots who set their costumes afire=funny!
The hate speech discussion is actually drawing my interest more than usual, so I spend less than my alotted time on the facebook. But if Tender Tweeze and her alleged fiance, Stockholm, post any more pictures of them half-naked or making "sexy" faces (mostly, they just look constipated) or trying to touch their tongues together; I will personally nail them together and set them afire in a field. Also, the new Facebook format makes these pictures almost impossible to avoid. For some reason, they always crop up (SURPRISE!) in the ironically named "Highlights" column. And dammned if the most offensive pictures aren't the album cover. They are either trying to convince everyone that they really mean it, or they enjoy knowing that everyone screams "AH! DO NOT WANT!!!" when signing into facebook.
Karen somehow confuses Stockholm for Priest and wonders how I can be so calm about Tender Tweeze posting tongue touching pictures. We're off on a tangent now, so I go for it and try to see if I can make her yelp during class.
Message: To: Karen, From: Lola:
Mission Accomplished.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
With a Decent Tailwind, I Can Get Across Town in 3 Minutes
So, it's true that there is a Facebook Group dedicated to the idea that I ride a broomstick to work.
I can't really dispute this in light of the amount of ranting that has gone on in the past two days despite the fact that my glands are so swollen I resemble a bullfrog during mating season.
Some people take this a little too seriously. I am waiting for Priest to get out of his late meeting last night. At midnight, I decide to text and see what the hold up is. Aaaaaaaand, I have text messages. He is at my apartment, wondering where I am. Um, at the same table I was at 3 hours ago when you saw me last? He thought I was at home. He drove me to school this morning.
I can't help myself. I yell, in the lobby, "How did you think got home? Didya think I jumped on my broomstick and flew?" A woman across the lobby dissolves into the giggles. Apparently, some people believe the myth.
Megan wants us to work on communication with new members in order to dispell the rumor that we are scary and unfriendly. I laugh, but refrain from stating the obvious: I am scary and unfriendly.
I can't really dispute this in light of the amount of ranting that has gone on in the past two days despite the fact that my glands are so swollen I resemble a bullfrog during mating season.
Some people take this a little too seriously. I am waiting for Priest to get out of his late meeting last night. At midnight, I decide to text and see what the hold up is. Aaaaaaaand, I have text messages. He is at my apartment, wondering where I am. Um, at the same table I was at 3 hours ago when you saw me last? He thought I was at home. He drove me to school this morning.
I can't help myself. I yell, in the lobby, "How did you think got home? Didya think I jumped on my broomstick and flew?" A woman across the lobby dissolves into the giggles. Apparently, some people believe the myth.
Megan wants us to work on communication with new members in order to dispell the rumor that we are scary and unfriendly. I laugh, but refrain from stating the obvious: I am scary and unfriendly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
