While leaping the year with 50 or 60 friends and strangers at my house on Friday night, it seemed like a completely reasonable idea to exit my house through a window. The door was fully operational and 3 feet away.
I hurt myself, which has caused me to limp unattractively.
Today, in a public restroom, I spotted a woman looking at me. Then she started limping, clearly mocking me. I gave her the Filthiest Look Ever and limped away, appalled by her rudeness.
Then I rounded the corner and saw her crutches leaning against the wall.
3.04.2008
3.03.2008
Things I'd Rather You Not See
- Large block of Muenster cheese in refrigerator with teeth marks on it
- What I did to that plant you gave me
- Safety pin holding my zipper up
- Consumption of "Second Breakfast"
- Law School transcript
- Kool-Aid "Slammin' Strawberry Kiwi" Lipsmacker in my briefcase
3.02.2008
I suppose it's possible.
A friend of mine suffered a minor romantic setback on Friday. Troy heard the news and groaned, "Oh god...now tonight is gonna be all about her, isn't it? Anything we have to say is going to turn into something about her not having a boyfriend."
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe."
"Like if I announce that my mom died today in a horrible corncrib accident, she'll say: 'My love life is a horrible corncrib accident.'"
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe."
"Like if I announce that my mom died today in a horrible corncrib accident, she'll say: 'My love life is a horrible corncrib accident.'"
2.27.2008
Butch Sandals
Last night at dinner, my friend Brian told us 2 stories. One story involved him describing a past sexual encounter, during which someone did something to him for one minute. I don't really want to get into it. But it was such an awkward and uncomfortable image that Brad & I found ourselves timing out one minute on a clock to see just how long this something went on for. We decided that one minute is a very, very long time.
The other story was about his parents' recent visit. They stopped by the department store where he works, selling men's shoes. Brian hasn't exactly told his parents that he's gay, but claims that "they have to know." I would agree.
While they talked with their son in the shoe department, Brian waved at someone. "You know...I waved like this...like real cute like I do." His parents fell silent. Was this it? Had the 'gay wave' tipped the scales? Did the family officially "know" now? Would Christmas ever be the same again?
In his moment of panic, Brian did what anyone would.
"I looked down, grabbed a really butch pair of sandals, and said, 'I really like these.' My parents started talking again, and everything was fine."
Yes, Brian. Everything is fine.
The other story was about his parents' recent visit. They stopped by the department store where he works, selling men's shoes. Brian hasn't exactly told his parents that he's gay, but claims that "they have to know." I would agree.
While they talked with their son in the shoe department, Brian waved at someone. "You know...I waved like this...like real cute like I do." His parents fell silent. Was this it? Had the 'gay wave' tipped the scales? Did the family officially "know" now? Would Christmas ever be the same again?
In his moment of panic, Brian did what anyone would.
"I looked down, grabbed a really butch pair of sandals, and said, 'I really like these.' My parents started talking again, and everything was fine."
Yes, Brian. Everything is fine.
2.25.2008
That's not ironic, Alanis, that's just unfortunate.
We all have our vices.
Troy has beer.
Brad has gin & sex with men.
I have internet TV.
My Dad has movies with talking animals.
We deal with them as best we can.
Around Christmas time, Troy and I were out in the suburbs, doing some strange and intense Christmas baking with friends. Troy got lit, and at about 1:00am, grabbed his keys to drive home. Every time this happens, we try to talk him out of driving. We do this for at least 10 minutes, which is an eternity when you're trying to talk a drunk person out of driving. And every time, he insists that he's fine...that he "stopped drinking an hour ago" and that he's "been drinking a ton of water." On this particular night, a Christmas Miracle actually convinced him to leave his car in suburbs and to catch a sober ride home with me and Brad. He left his little red car all alone on the empty street, with the promise that I'd drive him back out to it the next morning.
In the early morning hours, when we were all gradually waking up, crawling out of bed to retrieve cereal, and crawling back into bed to eat cereal...a very small suburban woman in a very large SUV plowed into Troy's car, crushing it's door. And it's frame. And it's soul. And any possibility that Troy would ever accept a sober ride home again.
That's not ironic. That's just unfortunate.
A female friend of mine would probably claim sex as her vice. She loves it. Can't get enough. Day, night, weekdays, weekends, in-state, out-of-state, young guys, old guys, married guys, co-workers... Sex. Has to have it.
For DECADES, she's had indiscriminate and unsafe sex with men all over the country with, as far as we can tell, no consequences. For the new year, however, she made a few resolutions to facilitate her transition from being The Girl You Fuck into being The Girl You Marry.
They're good resolutions...healthy ones. No married men, No sex until at least 3 proper dates have been had, etc. It's near the end of February, and she's been following the rules. This is amazing, because it naturally means that she's been going without sex. At the very least, she's going with a lot less sex than she's accustomed to having. In fact, she's only slept with one person in 2008, and she did it without breaking any of her resolutions.
She has chlamydia.
Troy has beer.
Brad has gin & sex with men.
I have internet TV.
My Dad has movies with talking animals.
We deal with them as best we can.
Around Christmas time, Troy and I were out in the suburbs, doing some strange and intense Christmas baking with friends. Troy got lit, and at about 1:00am, grabbed his keys to drive home. Every time this happens, we try to talk him out of driving. We do this for at least 10 minutes, which is an eternity when you're trying to talk a drunk person out of driving. And every time, he insists that he's fine...that he "stopped drinking an hour ago" and that he's "been drinking a ton of water." On this particular night, a Christmas Miracle actually convinced him to leave his car in suburbs and to catch a sober ride home with me and Brad. He left his little red car all alone on the empty street, with the promise that I'd drive him back out to it the next morning.
In the early morning hours, when we were all gradually waking up, crawling out of bed to retrieve cereal, and crawling back into bed to eat cereal...a very small suburban woman in a very large SUV plowed into Troy's car, crushing it's door. And it's frame. And it's soul. And any possibility that Troy would ever accept a sober ride home again.
That's not ironic. That's just unfortunate.
A female friend of mine would probably claim sex as her vice. She loves it. Can't get enough. Day, night, weekdays, weekends, in-state, out-of-state, young guys, old guys, married guys, co-workers... Sex. Has to have it.
For DECADES, she's had indiscriminate and unsafe sex with men all over the country with, as far as we can tell, no consequences. For the new year, however, she made a few resolutions to facilitate her transition from being The Girl You Fuck into being The Girl You Marry.
They're good resolutions...healthy ones. No married men, No sex until at least 3 proper dates have been had, etc. It's near the end of February, and she's been following the rules. This is amazing, because it naturally means that she's been going without sex. At the very least, she's going with a lot less sex than she's accustomed to having. In fact, she's only slept with one person in 2008, and she did it without breaking any of her resolutions.
She has chlamydia.
2.23.2008
Reconsidering my career as a defense lawyer.
Last night, some of the guys were talking about our mutual friend/acquaintance, Rachel. In short, they think that Rachel is an obnoxious drunk who crosses the Fancy Line of Decorum expected at certain parties. Brad and I disagree. Rachel spices things up, and I have a soft spot for tiny mouthy people. Brad jumped to her defense, and as he was being sternly refuted by the guys, I tried to quickly think of something more to add on her behalf. When an opening presented itself, all I could come up with was,
"Well, there was that one time she called Jen a cunt."
Yes, everyone agreed. Yes, there was that.
"Well, there was that one time she called Jen a cunt."
Yes, everyone agreed. Yes, there was that.
2.19.2008
Year of Unfortunate Lawyer
As 2008 approached, Brad and I decided to get serious about some New Year's Resolutions. These weren't just a couple of off-hand goals that we tossed around to soon forget. These were concrete, life-altering, quantifiable changes that were going to happen, thus making 2008 the "Year of Brad" and the "Year of Unfortunate Lawyer."
I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that it's February 25, and I have followed exactly zero of these "resolutions." But not only am I not the Improved Unfortunate Lawyer that I had hoped to be -- I am now an enormous liar as well.
Because Brad is a good friend, he questions me about how the Year of Unfortunate Lawyer is progressing. Here's how these conversations go:
Brad: I worked out this morning - you?
Me: Yep. And last night.
Brad: Have you been following that budget you made?
Me: Sure am. And I'm paying off that credit card, too.
Brad: How's your writing coming along?
Me: Really well.
I have big plans for 2009. Resolution: When talking to Brad about how resolutions are going, throw in some "failures" to make "successes" seem more believable.
I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that it's February 25, and I have followed exactly zero of these "resolutions." But not only am I not the Improved Unfortunate Lawyer that I had hoped to be -- I am now an enormous liar as well.
Because Brad is a good friend, he questions me about how the Year of Unfortunate Lawyer is progressing. Here's how these conversations go:
Brad: I worked out this morning - you?
Me: Yep. And last night.
Brad: Have you been following that budget you made?
Me: Sure am. And I'm paying off that credit card, too.
Brad: How's your writing coming along?
Me: Really well.
I have big plans for 2009. Resolution: When talking to Brad about how resolutions are going, throw in some "failures" to make "successes" seem more believable.
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