Boss #6 is back in the office after a case of pneumonia.
"You know," he said, "When I was laying there - sick, sweating, not knowing where I was - I think I was hallucinating, because I looked into the closet and I swear I saw a Coach purse."
"Doesn't your wife have a Coach purse?"
"This was different."
2.12.2009
I want you back.
Dear Dish Network SmartCard:
I am coming for you. Hang on.
My television warned me that I needed you, or my cable would stop working. Still, I didn't watch for you in the mail. That was my fault. Sure, I could call my cable company and have them send a new card, but that could be 4...5...maybe 6 or more days without television. So that's not going to work. Besides, I know exactly where you are. Just hold on.
Love,
Unfortunate
Dear 96-Gallon Trash Bin:
I wish I had rolled you out to the curb last week. Or the week before. Because now you are quite full and you smell unpleasant. And I am about to do something very shameful to get my cable television back.
See you soon, with a surgical mask and rubber gloves,
Unfortunate
I am coming for you. Hang on.
My television warned me that I needed you, or my cable would stop working. Still, I didn't watch for you in the mail. That was my fault. Sure, I could call my cable company and have them send a new card, but that could be 4...5...maybe 6 or more days without television. So that's not going to work. Besides, I know exactly where you are. Just hold on.
Love,
Unfortunate
Dear 96-Gallon Trash Bin:
I wish I had rolled you out to the curb last week. Or the week before. Because now you are quite full and you smell unpleasant. And I am about to do something very shameful to get my cable television back.
See you soon, with a surgical mask and rubber gloves,
Unfortunate
2.02.2009
Indecent Proposal
I watched "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" last night and it made me hope for one thing:
If a guy ever proposes to me, I want him to be shirtless.
If a guy ever proposes to me, I want him to be shirtless.
1.13.2009
2008: In Review
Favorite comeback beverage: Diet 7-Up
Favorite new TV show: Skins on BBC America
Most egregious legal mishap: turning in State Supreme Court brief 88 days late
Most commonplace thing I still don't understand: airline 'miles.' (I have been flying for two decades and I have never earned one of these miles. I also do not know how to earn them, where to store them, or how to trade them in for candy.)
3 Things I ate that I shouldn't have: that chili we made, casino birthday buffet, vegetables
Most unsettling obsession: floods (Runner-Up: Great Ape Trust)
Best day of the year: February 29 (It was an extra day.)
Number of times I attempted to read first Twilight book: 6 (Teen romance? Love it. Vampires? Can't get enough. But the number of times and the manner in which she described whats-her-name being carried on that vampire's back while he ran really really fast was weird and gross.)
Total billable hours: 1,760
Best place to look for me when I'm missing: Embassy Suites lobby
Least polite thing I did: dipped finger in your egg nog when you weren't looking
Most common thing prepared in my house: Crystal Light (Runner-up: revenge)
Most elaborate April Fool's Day prank: Sending a press release to your hometown newspaper, which, it turns out, will print just about anything without checking facts (Runner Up: 760 Dixie cups)
Favorite new TV show: Skins on BBC America
Most egregious legal mishap: turning in State Supreme Court brief 88 days late
Most commonplace thing I still don't understand: airline 'miles.' (I have been flying for two decades and I have never earned one of these miles. I also do not know how to earn them, where to store them, or how to trade them in for candy.)
3 Things I ate that I shouldn't have: that chili we made, casino birthday buffet, vegetables
Most unsettling obsession: floods (Runner-Up: Great Ape Trust)
Best day of the year: February 29 (It was an extra day.)
Number of times I attempted to read first Twilight book: 6 (Teen romance? Love it. Vampires? Can't get enough. But the number of times and the manner in which she described whats-her-name being carried on that vampire's back while he ran really really fast was weird and gross.)
Total billable hours: 1,760
Best place to look for me when I'm missing: Embassy Suites lobby
Least polite thing I did: dipped finger in your egg nog when you weren't looking
Most common thing prepared in my house: Crystal Light (Runner-up: revenge)
Most elaborate April Fool's Day prank: Sending a press release to your hometown newspaper, which, it turns out, will print just about anything without checking facts (Runner Up: 760 Dixie cups)
Most frequently-used item: spoon (Runner-Up: law degree)
1.11.2009
I'm here to [dis]please
I've decided that I'm no longer going to begin court hearings by standing up and saying "May it please the Court."
It has become clear that very little of what I do pleases the Court.
Very little.
It has become clear that very little of what I do pleases the Court.
Very little.
1.07.2009
My New Fitness Program
I recently saw an advertisement on TV while watching VH1's top twenty video countdown. The advertisement is for a workout program called "Flirty Girl Fitness." As far as I can tell, the workout consists of learning "classic sexy dance moves" from a variety of places. There are a number of DVDs available for sale, so you can do this workout program at home. Instead of treadmills, stairmasters, and weights, you get to work out with kitchen chairs, feather boas, and stripper poles. The dancing is so much fun that apparently, you forget that you're working out. Well that sounds great. Couldn't we all use a workout program like that? But here's what I really want to know: if I forget that I'm working out, will I also forget that by doing this program, I might as well just get a job as a stripper? Will I forget that I am shredding any hint of my dignity while dancing with a pink feather boa and straddling my kitchen chairs? Will I forget that I'll never be able to look at myself in the mirror again after dancing in my living room to DVDs titled "Booty Beat" and "Just Teasing?"
Why don't you get back to me on that, Flirty Girl Fitness. Then I might consider ordering your Teaser Collection Kit, and possibly even a "Fitness" Pole with the extension.
Why don't you get back to me on that, Flirty Girl Fitness. Then I might consider ordering your Teaser Collection Kit, and possibly even a "Fitness" Pole with the extension.
12.25.2008
Christmas Past
Most of my Christmas memories blend together into a cluster of church pageants, unreasonably-large meals, and apple cider. There's always been a tree. There's always been music. There are gifts from family on Christmas Eve and from Santa on Christmas morning. No matter our age, it is the job of my sister and I to "find out what people want to drink" and to eventually serve the pie, which is stored not in the kitchen, but in a mysterious place in our house that has always been known to our immediate family as the Cold Sewing Room.
I remember sleeping downstairs in sleeping bags one year with my sister and our cousin Jody. We tried to stay up all night, an unsuccessful effort to catch Santa. We covered every doorway with wrapping paper and tape, certain we'd hear something in the middle of the night. When we woke up in the morning, the traps were securely in place, the gifts were under the tree, and our parents were calmly sipping coffee in the kitchen, undaunted by our paper barriers.
Another Christmas, the three of us put on our snow pants and boots and walked a mile through a snow-filled ditch to our grandma's house. Someone would have surely driven us, had we asked. Or, we could have simply walked on the road in far less time than the two hours it took in the ditch. But if we'd chosen either of those options, I'm sure I wouldn't remember that day.
In the late 90s, my sister claimed the unique experience of ruining Christmas three years in a row. One of these occasions was incited by my mother's addled plan for her 18 and 19-year old daughters to wear matching velvet dresses to church just as we did when we were 4 and 5. It didn't play well.
More recently when we were home for the holiday and in search of entertainment, my sister called a local movie theater to find out what was playing. After getting her answer and the showtime, she thanked the person on the other end of the phone and began to hang up. "So," the theater attendant interrupted, "are you for sure going to come then?" If we'd gone to the movie that night, they likely would have shown the movie to a theater of two. Because we didn't, I'm sure they locked up early.
It hasn't been a great year. Some bad memories have been added to the good. But as I near home, I first drive past an empty movie theater. My jeep then creeps carefully down the icy gravel road bordering the ditch we once hiked through, up to our waists in snow. I walk through the doorways once sealed tight with wrapping paper, past the framed picture of matching velvet dresses from our childhood. And for a little while, because everything seems okay, I find out what people want to drink and go to the Cold Sewing Room to get the pie.
Merry Christmas, everyone.
I remember sleeping downstairs in sleeping bags one year with my sister and our cousin Jody. We tried to stay up all night, an unsuccessful effort to catch Santa. We covered every doorway with wrapping paper and tape, certain we'd hear something in the middle of the night. When we woke up in the morning, the traps were securely in place, the gifts were under the tree, and our parents were calmly sipping coffee in the kitchen, undaunted by our paper barriers.
Another Christmas, the three of us put on our snow pants and boots and walked a mile through a snow-filled ditch to our grandma's house. Someone would have surely driven us, had we asked. Or, we could have simply walked on the road in far less time than the two hours it took in the ditch. But if we'd chosen either of those options, I'm sure I wouldn't remember that day.
In the late 90s, my sister claimed the unique experience of ruining Christmas three years in a row. One of these occasions was incited by my mother's addled plan for her 18 and 19-year old daughters to wear matching velvet dresses to church just as we did when we were 4 and 5. It didn't play well.
More recently when we were home for the holiday and in search of entertainment, my sister called a local movie theater to find out what was playing. After getting her answer and the showtime, she thanked the person on the other end of the phone and began to hang up. "So," the theater attendant interrupted, "are you for sure going to come then?" If we'd gone to the movie that night, they likely would have shown the movie to a theater of two. Because we didn't, I'm sure they locked up early.
It hasn't been a great year. Some bad memories have been added to the good. But as I near home, I first drive past an empty movie theater. My jeep then creeps carefully down the icy gravel road bordering the ditch we once hiked through, up to our waists in snow. I walk through the doorways once sealed tight with wrapping paper, past the framed picture of matching velvet dresses from our childhood. And for a little while, because everything seems okay, I find out what people want to drink and go to the Cold Sewing Room to get the pie.
Merry Christmas, everyone.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
