I give up.

I used to go to great lengths to hide my unfortunate taste in movies and television shows. I wanted to be the kind of person who watched independent films on the Sundance Channel, not ABC Family Originals. My law school roommate and I developed a code. Melissa would greet me in the hall between classes and ask whether I remembered to set the TV to record "that documentary that's on tonight."

That "documentary" was also known as The OC.
Oh, I'd remembered alright.

When Taylor asked what movies I had recently seen, I listed Whale Rider, Hotel Rwanda, and Born into Brothels. That would have been true, except that it was Center Stage, The Princess Diaries, and 10 Things I Hate About You.

My summer roommate, John Paul, helped me properly define my weakness. He recognized the brand new sub-genre of movies that had cropped up within the broader genre of Teen Romance. The sub-genre was this:

Movies about girls who, at the beginning of the movie, don't know they're princesses but who, by the end of the movie, are princesses. *

There are more of them than you might think. This revelation helped me characterize the two other sub-genres that define my character flaw:

Movies about dancers who lose their dance partner but find a new partner from the 'wrong side of the tracks'; because their love is starcrossed, tragedy strikes, but the story culminates in a dance performance or competition where the couple is reunited to learn an important lesson about life, love, and dancing. **

and

Movies about a popular high school student unexpectedly paired with an unpopular student, often but not always provoked by a wager; the unpopular student discovers the source of the unlikely coupling, but not before the popular student develops true feelings for the unpopular one, and everyone learns an important lesson about popularity, honesty, and kissing...at the prom. ***

But I give up. You win. I'm tired of hiding.

Go ahead...look under that copy of Night by Elie Wiesel on my bedside table. You're going to find a Buffy the Vampire Slayer comic book underneath. Push aside Boston Legal in my trunk full of DVDs. Hiding there are Seasons 6 & 7 of Degrassi Junior High: The Next Generation.

Happy now? Have I been humiliated to your satisfaction?

If not, just hit the 5th pre-set radio station in my jeep. It's country.

* The Prince and Me (I and II), Princess Diaries (I and II), What a Girl Wants, First Daughter, Chasing Liberty, Enchanted, A Cinderella Story, Sydney White, Ever After, Ella Enchanted

** Dirty Dancing, Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights, Footloose, Center Stage, The Cutting Edge (I, II, and III), Step Up, Step Up 2: The Streets, Save the Last Dance, Take the Lead

*** 10 Things I Hate About You, Whatever It Takes, Drive Me Crazy, Can't Buy Me Love, Never Been Kissed, 16 Candles, Clueless, Empire Records, Romeo + Juliet, Can't Hardly Wait, Blue Crush, Pretty in Pink, Bring it On, Win a Date with Tad Hamilton, She's the Man, How to Deal, The Girl Next Door

Jealous of My Dancing?

Over the fourth of July weekend, I went on a camping trip. One night of the trip consisted of going out to a few bars, where I had an occassion to show off some of my best dance moves. I think the way everyone felt about my dancing can be summed up in the following exchange that took place between me and one of my camping buddies:

Me: I don't like camping. I am a clean freak.

Camping buddy: Really? Because you dance like a dirty freak.

Why I'll Never Quit My Job: The Things I Find

Boss #5 of 7 was out of the office this week on family business, so I covered his hearings. On Thursday, I was already on my 3rd hearing of the day at 8:30 am. Frazzled and rushed, I introduced myself to Boss 5's client and explained that I'd be covering his preliminary hearing. I shook his hand, explained what would happen at the hearing, and tried to be as impressive as my 8:30 a.m. self could be.

As we stood outside the courtroom, I felt as though I'd won his confidence, even though he'd hired Boss 5, an attorney with 15 years of criminal defense experience, and not me. "Don't worry. I know what I'm doing," was the unspoken message that I'd conveyed.

We entered the courtroom, sat down at the defense table, and I opened his file.

Yep. That's a sock. Boss 5 likes to take his files home to work on them. He also has a 4-year old daughter.

Again...just to confirm: There was a sock. In a criminal defense file.

Things only went downhill from there.

Why I'll Never Quit My Job: The Things I Hear

While I was parking at the jail for my sixth hearing of the day, I called back to the office to talk to Boss #6 of 7. I knew there were new rules for what items lawyers could bring into the secure portion of the jail, but I needed to double-check what those rules were.

"You have to leave your keys and phone in the lockers out front, but you can take everything else back," Boss 6 clarified.

"Okay-thanks. Bye."

"Wait!! Unless you're carrying! You can't take drugs in. Are you carrying? Cough once if you're carrying!"

Swing, Batter.

About 10 months ago, my good friend started dating my best friend. 7 months ago, they broke up...badly.

The past 7 months have been a delicate dance. For Brad and Matt, the dances have been The Silent Treatment and I'm Not Apologizing, respectively. For their mutual friends, it's been a veritable recital of Don't Invite Both of Them, Make Sure They Sit On Opposite Ends of the Table, and OhGodDoYouSeeThatLook?BradIsGoingToRipHisFaceOff.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday at dinner, Brad announced to me and Rachel that he was going to start being friendly to Matt. Overly friendly, he said. "In fact, I sent him an email today inviting him to a party this weekend."

I was stunned. Really? Friendly? After all this time, they were just going to be friends again? "Prove it," felt like the natural response.

"Fine. I'll send him a text right now." I watched, holding my breath. Rachel and I glanced at one another, our eyes terrified but hopeful. Was this a trick? Was he just toying with us? Did he have some sinister plan for Matt? "What's your end game?" we asked.

"Nothing! You don't believe me? I'm going to start being friendly with him. Overly friendly," he declared again. Brad typed a text inviting Matt to a baseball game on Wednesday. He set the phone down on the table and it beeped. Message sent.

Brad sat smirking as we squirmed in our chairs, uncomfortable. A hundred questions were racing through my head. What did this mean? What would Matt think? Was this an elaborate plot to lure Matt to the baseball stadium and chain him to a radiator in a dungeon with steam pipes and fiery blasts singeing his ears at regular intervals? We fidgeted as Brad sat across from us, smiling and unrattled.

Maybe this was real. Yes...it was real. They were going to be friends again.

A vibration interrupted the first trusting thought I'd had. Brad's phone was ringing. We all leaned in cautiously to look. It was Matt calling. Calling, after 7 months of silence and avoidance, only 30 seconds after receiving Brad's invitation. Didn't he know it could be a trick? Wasn't he suspicious? It was a gutsy move, without a doubt.

Cool and Collected Brad disappeared as quickly as he'd emerged. He gasped, covered his face with his hands, and dove under the table.

Bluff? Consider it called.

Pulling away from the restaurant, I dialed Matt's number. I desperately needed answers, and wanted to congratulate him on his straightforward move of calling Brad directly. I was proud of him, and was hopeful that this might actually be the start of repairing something that had been badly broken.

What I learned was that at the very moment Brad was diving under our dinner table, Matt was discovering he'd dialed Brad's number by mistake, screaming, and throwing his phone across the room.

It's possible that this "friends" thing is going to take a little longer than I was led to believe.



UPDATE:
It's the day of the baseball game.

Brad: Today is the day!
Me: Whatever. Just remember that I don't handle Class A felonies.
Brad: Is being overly friendly a Class A felony?

Go sell Crazy someplace else.

To sort out a few recent anxiety issues, I decided that it might be a good idea to talk to a counselor. I have 2 friends who are in therapy locally, and they happen to see the same psychologist. I called one of them to get the number for the counseling office. When the receptionist scheduled me for my first appointment, she asked if I would like to see Sandy, my friends' therapist.

"Unless you would feel conflicted because your friends see her, I think I could get you in with Sandy this week."

"Oh, no," I snapped. "If Sandy is who my friends see, I definitely need someone else. They both come here every week. That shit's not working. And I need results."