Happiness is a Dior habdbag

Two months ago I was forced to transfer from my laid back easy going NJ-based office to the workaholic land of my firm's NYC office. Well maybe not technically forced -- I did have a choice: transfer to NYC or get laid off. So, not technically forced but practically.

Anyway, since the transfer, my life has been an unpredictable mess -- some days I've wanted to pull my own hair out as a result of overpowering boredom. Other days I've wanted to cry from the sheer exhaustion caused by 16 hour days. And then there are the days that I get to revel in the glow cast by my uber-famous (at least in the legal world) champion of liberal causes boss. On those days, the exhaustion recedes and the light shines, if only for a brief moment.

Not that it's all that bad or anything. I've actually been quite lucky. I'm ridiculously well paid. The people I work with are pretty damn decent and the people I work for don't suck. So I've got it better than most (professionally speaking at least). But, having had to give up my last two weekends (or at least part of them) and expecting to give up part of the upcoming weekend, at the whim of some amorphous 'client,' not to mention not expecting to see the light of day for a couple of weeks, has gotten me thinking that perhaps its time for a change and I don't mean a 'ooh I'll go to another firm' change; I mean a maybe its time to get the hell out of the law game altogether kind of change.

The lightening quick passage of time isn't helping. Just yesterday I was a bright-eyed eager law student, ignorant of the realities incumbent upon my law school attendance and later legal career. Blink your eyes and BAM! I'm pushing 40 and wondering if maybe I made the wrong decision all those years ago. So, yeah, it may be time to make some hard choices. And the prospect is scary as hell. Mostly because, quite honestly, I've grown accustomed to my standard of living.

I know money isn't everything, and in the "big picture" means very little, but there's something to be said for financial stability -- I spent the better part of my life without it so I know what I'm talking about. Fuck. Everyone knows struggling sucks. Its comforting not having to worry how the mortgage will get paid. It's nice being able to go on vacation every year. Money may not buy happiness but it'll buy you a fucking hot ass Dior bag to make you forget your troubles.

So... Change. Choices. Easier said than done. For now, me and my Dior bag will be staying put.

The EAS Strikes Again

I can't fucking believe it. It wasn't enough that the goddamn EAS (thanks ot Adam for the nomenclature correction) interrupted Idol. Now I'm now stuck working all kinds of fucking late. I've got Bride Wars on in the background to keep from totally losing my mind and wanting to cry. And what the fucks happens? Not once, but so far three fucking times? The motherfuckinggoddamn EAS has to go and interrupt me. And I'm watching the fucking movie on OnDemand. So it isn't even regular TV that's getting interrupted now. It's a fucking move I fucking am paying for.

AND -- it isn't even a missing kid this time. NO. Its just a test. A motherfucking test. A test that has interrupted me two additional times even since I started typing this very short rant. That's at least 5 times so far. AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!

Somebody kill me now.

Idolinterruptis

Dear Emergency Broadcast System:

The other night, while watching American fucking Idol (on a one hour dvr delay), you rudely interrupted me no less than 15 times (my FB friends may have seen my live rants). Each time you would stop my dvr and switch to the TV guide channel for an announcement about a missing kid.

Now, don't get me wrong, I've nothing against announcements about missing kids generally, but in this particular case, let's just say I was not the happy-go-lucky girl I should have been to watch the much-hyped Adam Lambert fall to cutey little Kris Allan. And here's why:

First: ummm, hello. I don't give a flying fuck what the goddamn emergency is, there is no excuse for telling me about it every 5-7 minutes. Did you not realize its the fucking AI finale? Do you live under a rock? I realize a lot of us 'mericans are a bunch of fucking moe rons (I've complained about it myself) but come on. No one is that dumb. Once is enough. I'd even give you a couple reminders. But 15 times?

Second: it don't matter how many times you play the fucking announcement cause it told me nothing other than that the state police had issued a state of emergency until 2am for about five NJ counties because of a missing kid. That's it. No gender. No 'last seen'. No nothing. What the fuck? Talk about dumb.

Third: I don't fucking live in any of the affected counties. Hell, they aren't even in my fucking part of the state for pete's sake (btw, who the fuck is pete?). So, technically, as far as my life was concerned... no goddamnmotherfucking emergency. Ergo, no need for interruption after interruption. Come on EBS - I have to believe the technology exists to target people better than that.

Fourth: even if I lived in one of the counties...why the fuck are you telling me (and the rest of the at home tv watching public) anything? What the fuck am I supposed to do sitting at home in my pjs? Hmmm? Go out searching? Even if I knew what the kid looked like or was wearing or where s/he was missing from or how s/he went missing (which you idiotically forgot to mention despite having like 15 tries at it), what the fuck good is me knowing that doing for this kid? I mean obviously, if I see a kid wandering about lost I can help without a useless tv announcement about it. Then again, I'm in my fucking pajamas so its not like I'll be goin' anywhere I'm apt to run into missing kids.

Fifth (yeah, that's right, there's more): why on earth did you keep changing the start and end times for the 'state of emergency'. From 9pm-2am to 10pm-3am to, finally, 11something-12:11am. Why is that? Was the kid less missing? More found? What? There must have been some reason, right? (Ok maybe the state police did it, but still, you are responsible for your own broadcasts, no?) Which leads me to...

Sixth: why the fuck, if the emergency is over, would you keep on issuing the fucking announcement? Sure, AI was over (although I did not enjoy it as much as I normally would have) but at this point you were interrupting me watching the dvr'd pilot of Glee. I was not amused. Nor was I in the slightest bit gleeful (although that show rocked!). Or...if you were going to interrupt regularly scheduled broadcasting (and apparently dvr viewers as well - wtf is that about?), you could at least have changed the fucking end time from 12:11 to something later. Cause it was well after that time the last time you fucking interrupted me.

And, after all of that - I still don't know what the fuck the whole thing was about. For all I know some drug-addled-excuse-for-a-mother woke up from some hazy place, couldn't find her usually neglected children and called the cops to report them missing, forgetting, of course, that in her stupor she'd asked her sister to take them for the night.

Needless to say, EBS, I am way pissed at you. So don't call me again, m'kay?

Color me unsurprised morons

From today's NJ Law Journal Daily Briefing:
The law firm revolution is not upon us. So say 208 law firm leaders in response to an Altman Weil survey conducted in March and April. "Law firms are not doing anything dramatic and are not planning to do anything dramatic," says an Altman Weil consultant and co-author of the survey, which was distributed to 687 firms with 50 or more lawyers, asking how firms are dealing with strategy, growth, pricing, staffing and business development in light of the current economy. However, 38 percent of firms with 500 to 999 lawyers say it is likely or possible that they will cut additional equity partners in 2009.

All I have to say is, no fucking shit sherlock. Law firms aren't changing as a result of the economy? Gee. I never woulda guessed that. Who decided on this stupid ass survey I wonder? And how much did they spend on it? TO find out what everyone in the legal world already knows -- law firms are what they are and they aren't changing anytime soon. Why? Because they are fucking money making machines, that's why. Would you change if you were making millions upon millions upon millions of dollars each year, hell no you wouldn't. NO revolution for you my friend.

Of course, I've been billing around the clock for the last 6 days straight (see what I mean -- money makin', money money makin') and haven't seen the light of day so I haven't really had much time to think about potential revolutions in the legal market (or anything really, other than the never-ending pile of shit to do on my desk). Although now that I am thinking about it, if there ever is change, perhaps beefing up case coverage should be among the changes so that, oh I don't know, I could fucking go home before 1 o'clock in the motherfucking morning.

I guess I really shouldn't complain -- they pay me ridiculously well, and the partner I'm working with is actually a really nice guy. And it isn't like he's piled on the work and gone home (unlike some former bosses of mine who now have their own firm with a moniker than sounds a little sleazy -- S&M anyone? and No, I'm not kidding)) -- he's been here slaving way too; at least almost as long as I have. And I have been granted a once-in-a-lifetime reprieve...despite the fact that this case is on for an evidentiary hearing (that's like a mini trial for you non-legal folks out there) on Wednesday (yes, as week from yesterday Wednesday), and that the rest of the team will not see the light of day until after the hearing, I have been excused!!! I actually get to take the next 4 days so that I can go see my baby brother graduate from UVA! (Ok, so he's not a baby, he's not even the average age of a college grad, but he's the youngest of my brothers so baby brother he is, and always will be).

BUT -- no one likes working from 7:30AM to 1:30AM no matter what they get paid and no matter how interesting the work is or whatever-the-fuck. No body. Or at least definitely not me. I like being able to see the sun. And call me crazy, but I enjoy having dinner with other people, at a table, instead of sitting at my desk and trying not to get food all over the 4000 pages of shit I need to deal with. Plus, I fucking missed American Idol AND Dancing with the Stars this week. So not cool. Then again, its always been this way. Feast or famine. Insane hours one week; extreme boredom the next. And, like I said, it changing anytime soon.

So, "the law firm revolution is not upon us"? I could have told them that.

And now, I've got to go back to my office cave of horrors. This little foray will cost me but it was either rant or go on a killing spree. I thought ranting would be much more appropriate. Otherwise I'd have to hire my own fucking lawyer.

Novelista in the Making

So my colleague and I, both relatively fed up with the legal world and major devourers of the written word, have decided to write a book. A chick lit novel to be precise (we're both VERY familiar with the genre so it just makes sense, that and we are chicks). Which we will write under a pseudonym (we've another colleague who is a bit of a celebrity in the non-fiction world and we'd rather not have to deal with what she has to deal with).

We figure we'll spend one lunch a week work on it together and then work on it individually whenever when we can. It will probably take a while, at least a year or two we're guessing, and will eventually cut into our already meager social lives, but we figure the potential life of leisure at the end of the road (you know, after the book is published and sells a bazillion copies) is worth the lost social time (and sleep). Basically, we've got nothing to lose and we figure if we can make this happen then maybe, just maybe, we can leave law firm life behind. For good. Which would be just too cool.

We've played around with this idea now for a bit but yesterday, we cemented it and even did a little brainstorming. We've got some great ideas already and I'm pretty excited about it. You'll meet the heroine here, I'm thinking. We may even give her a facebook page. :) Granted, I don't know a damn thing about writing a novel, but I figure if this guy can write a novel on the fucking subway, on his fucking PDA, then we should be just fine.

And if I wasn't convinced enough . . . I just was given a lovely assignment which is going to basically ruin my entire weekend. Again. What the fuck is it about this place that ends up with me having nothing to do for three days and then getting slammed with work on a fucking Friday. Oh - and get this -- if i had fucking KIDS, guess what? That's right,mommies are excused from working this weekend. Don't get me wrong - good for them, I love moms, especially my own, but I want to know if there will ever be a I'm not a mom but I'm still fucking worthy of respect Day. But that's a rant best left for another day. For now, I've got to get to work and start thinking about what I'll be ordering in for dinner since I won't be meeting my friends for cocktails and appetizers this evening after all. God this sucks.

I just hope (please oh please oh please) this new venture pans out, 'cause I don't know what else I'll do when I eventually get so tired of the law game that I'd rather lose my house than come to work another day. I see that day on the horizon, for real, and I can only hope that I find an alternative before it gets here. So wish me luck, m'kay?

Island Girl?

I've been listening to ALOT of (hot ass) Kenny Chesney lately. I mean alot alot. Like crazy alot. Like every album of his I own (4). At least a couple of times over alot. Like, I'm actually listening to it while writing this post alot.

No idea why...why, while commuting one morning last week, of the god knows how many artists on my iPod I landed on KC and just let it play through all his albums. And then did it again. (and again...). But that's how it started and it's been like an addiction ever since. Perhaps it was fate, or some sort of sign from the goddess or some message from the universe. I don't know.

But since that fateful morning, I've thought endlessly about moving to the islands. Or maybe the Florida keys (since you can drive there and all). Basically about moving to some place where there is a lot of sun. A lot of sand. And a laid back vibe. A no-shirt-no-shoes-no-problem kinda vibe, as Kenny might put it. Now mind you, this isn't some, oh, hippy dippy fantasy land idea of moving, a I-won't-have-to-work and I'll-just-get-to-play-all-day-on-the-beach kind of idea. One of those lottery winning dream kinda ideas. Oh no. This is way more reality based than that. Fuck. I've gone so far as looking into what it takes to join the bar of the U.S.V.I. (I'm already familiar with the Florida bar terms -- score two for the keys: no test req'd). Because what the fuck else am I gonna do, right? (which is a whole other thing I've been thinking about alot lately, but I'll leave that for another day).

Maybe it's because it's been raining for like. fucking. ever. And so now I have a vitamin D deficiency that is causing my brain to seek out the sun or some shit. Or maybe it's regret poking its ugly little head out to fuck with me (ages and ages ago I was had an opportunity to live on St. John but stupid me chose to finish college instead -- what the fuck was I thinking?). Or maybe it's just a touch of ennui. Regardless, all this Kenny Chesney listening, with all his Island Boys and girls from Boston, has left me feeling, well, not quite 100% comfortable in my own life (no, its not the swine flu). And thinking that I'd be more comfortable in a place where I didn't have to wear a jacket. Or shoes. And where I didn't need to use fake tanner because I'd have that I-live-somewhere-sunny look about me.

At first I thought, I must just need a vacation. And then I remembered, fuck, I just got home from vacation like 6 or 7 weeks ago. A sweet ass vacation too -- 7 days cruising around the Bahamas (to the left is just one of the keys we visited). And I haven't worked particularly hard since then (except for the last few days or so, before that it was snooze city). So I'm pretty sure that's not it. But I don't know why else this new fascination with island living.

So here I sit - an inescapable and sort of fuzzy idea of a totally different life floating around in my head. And I have no idea what to do about it. It's not like I could ACTUALLY move anytime soon. My house is worth shit just for starters -- I couldn't even move down the street. That and the whole, what the fuck am I going to do for a living question I was talking about before. Gotta answer that first, I think. Or maybe the two have to be decided together? I guess I could take another vacation, but I don't think that's gonna do it. At least not for the long run. I think, maybe, seriously, that I may be on to something. A (very?) long term something, perhaps. But still something. Something real. I can see it. Sort of. Or maybe I've just completely lost my mind.

In the meantime, anyone know any good realtors in the keys?

Oh, and by the way -- will someone please talk to someone about this fucking rain. I CAN. NOT. TAKE. another fucking day of it. Please. Rain is only sexy in the fucking islands.

(hat tip to D-bud for the Vitamin D reference)