Ah, the sweet, sweet smell of success....

I still can't quite believe it, but I actually got a job. Let me say that again....I GOT A JOB!!!!! I GOT A JOB!!! I GOT A JOB!!!!

It only took 1 year, 1 month and 20 days, but I am finally, once more, among that most coveted of groups -- the gainfully employed. Granted, its an hourly temp job, which could end in as little as 4 weeks, but it beats the shit out of unemployment. I even get benefits (can you say 'best temp agency ever'?) And considering I was about to go work at Hooters, for no other reason that to get the hell out of the house (and give my DH something to be proud of, of course), what I'm doing now is an infinite improvement. I actually get to play lawyer. Like for realz. In some ways even more than I did in most of my other "lawyer" jobs. And unlike those other jobs, I do NOT work weekends, I do NOT work overtime, and I do NOT have to get dressed up...or even out of my pajamas if I don't like. That's right, I work form home bitches! A straight 40 hours a week.

I've never been so happy to be underpaid in all my life.

The Last 6 Months....

Holy crap time flies, whether you're having fun or not. Though I suppose it does go a little faster when you're enjoying yourself. But whatever, here's a quick recap of the last six months (which were fun and stressful and exciting and scary and any other adjective you care to throw out there):

* Packed, packed and packed some more and then unpacked and still unpacking.
* Gave away a whole ton of shit, including the monstrous 'old person' chair.
* Experienced my first ever earthquake (minor, of course, but still...).
* Prepped for a hurricane, which never really came.
* Fell off the no smoking wagon.
* Spent some quality time down the shore with the family.
* Finished renovating the summer cabin (which is now too far away to actually use).
* Said goodbye to all our friends & family.
* Moved 2500 miles away from everything and everyone that we know.
* Drove through 10 states in 10 days.
* Stood on the stage at the Grand Ole Opry.
* Had Cracker Barrel so many times that I will NEVER eat there again.
* Learned that it takes 21 mississippis to cross The Mississippi.
* Finally won my fight with Dreams Resorts (and looking forward to our FREE 5 night stay there next year).
* Started and won a fight with my movers. But I'm still waiting for the check.
* Became an AZ resident and voted in my first local election (love the "everyone can vote by mail" law they have here).
* Found a local bar that we love.
* Became addicted to the X Factor.
* Joined LivingSocial and some other local 'deal-per-day' site and got to take an awesome photography class. Now I know what all those little symbols on my (super fancy) camera mean. Next up: ROLLER DERBY!
* Got a new hard drive for my Mac, as if I had a choice. Still hoping someone will be able to recover everything from the burned out old one.
* Found not just one, but FOUR places near me that have GF pizza.
* Applied for somewhere in the range of 40 jobs, but STILL unemployed.

So there you have it. The short & sweet version. I'd stay stop back soon for details, but let's be honest. I'm terrible at this blogging thing. :)

New Year, New Life

On November 8, I started a countdown toward Thanksgiving. I didn't even make it to the second day. And that's because, quite simply, on the very next day I was abruptly terminated from my job. I spent the better part of my summer abroad working my ass off, and almost all of the fall shut up in a hotel in NYC working my ass off, and as soon as that was all over, what did I get? A nice big fat fucking boot up the ass. Not even a, hey, take your time, we'll help you find work, goodbye. A get your shit and get the fuck out one. It was ugly. But, looking back on it now, it was probably the very best thing that could have happened. Because not only was I given a push out of a job a didn't like in the first place, but I got to have one of the best holiday seasons of my life. One where I wasn't tied to my blackberry waiting for the other shoe to drop. One where I didn't have piles and piles of case with me to read. One where I wasn't going crazy at the last minute to find gifts, because I had plenty of time to buy them in advance. Like I said, it was awesome. A blessing in disguise, and one which I am still enjoying. Because I'm still unemployed, and will likely remain this way for at least a few more months. It will be the first time in my whole entire life since I was like 14 years old that I've not had a job. And I plan to enjoy every lovin minute of it.

My New (Hilton) BFF

For 26 days now, although it feels much much longer, I've been literally living at the Millennium Hilton. It's directly across from ground zero and after 2 or 3 days, I basically got used to the sound of the constant construction across the street. It never stops. And I mean never. 24 hours a day there are pylon drivers, and jackhammers and all manner of insanely loud construction equipment running. There is traffic and road work and all the rest too. But at this point, its almost soothing -- the constancy of it; the feeling of progress -- since I've been here, I watched them add several stories to the Freedom Tower. I've also witnessed some amazing sunsets from our "war room" perch up on the 55th floor overlooking the Hudson. Because not only do I live here now, I work here too -- all thanks to the inability of two billionaire companies to settle their disagreements. Well, its not quite that simple, but still.

So here's the deal: my firm has had the entire top floor of this place, which is usually the first class suites for the ultra fancy and super rich, turned into a series of "war rooms." (for you non-lawyers -- a war room is really just a room where lawyers can work together to prepare for trial or some other deal). I've spent no less than 15 hours a day in the war room. Usually considerably more than that. I've never spent more than 8 hours in a row in my room, usually considerably less. And fuck, in 26 days, I've spent a sum total of maybe 8 hours out of doors. I eat my meals here. All of them. If I work out, I do it in the hotel's gym. A laundry services picks up & drops off our laundry. There is nothing you need that can't be delivered. I go outside only to get Starbucks (when we run out of coffee in the war room) or to pick up more snacks from the bodega around the corner. It's utterly miserable.

But it actually gets worse....

Because you see, while I usually like the company of the people I work with, most of them are actually cool fun people, a few weeks ago the powers that be sent us an extra pair of hands in the from of a new associate. The First Year. By the end of his first day, we thought he was a little odd. By the end of day three, we decided he must have some sort of mental condition. And by day 5, we wanted either to kill him or kill ourselves so that we wouldn't have to spend another minute more with him. The odd things he does are just too numerous and mind-numbingly irritating to list here, but here's just a few.

(1) He paces. Constantly. As if under some immeasurable pressure. But I mentioned he's new right? He's here to be a glorified paralegal. There is nothing for him to be stressed about. The most difficult task he's been given so far is print about 40 case opinions from the internet and put them in a binder in alphabetical order. It took him 10 hours. Mostly because he was pacing for 6 of them. That and he appeared to have forgotten the alphabet.

(2) He breathes loudly. Like seriously loudly. Like so loudly that I have to wear headphones and turn my ipod way the hell up so as not to hear it. It sounds like the sound people make when they come up from being under water a little too long. A long, heavy exhalation. Except he's not underwater. It's like he's forgetting how to breath. Which is not all that unbelievable since he apparently forgot the alphabet.

(3) He twirls his sideburns. Often while pacing.

(4) He's a fucking know it all. Remember how I said he was sent to us a few weeks ago? And how he's a new? Well, the rest of us have been on this case for more than a year now. Have lost our summers to depositions in London. Have given up weekends to endless investigation into the facts. Well, apparently, newbie here is so fucking brilliant that he was able to master the case in two days. Or at least that's how it would seem since he constantly has to throw his two cents into every fucking conversation we have. And its not limited to shop talk. He knows everything about everything. When he tried to tell me about italian cooking though, I had to pull out the bitch and shut him the hell up.

(5) He hovers. And copies. For example, for the first couple of weeks, I would get up from my work area and go across the room to the "snack table" to get a snack. We have all sorts of snacks here. Lawyers who work around the clock need nourishment form of junk food. That's just how it works. Except in my case, my snacks are gluten free. They're special. And oftentimes not as good as regular snacks. I dream of mint milano cookies. But I digress....I go over to the snack table, I choose my snack, and before I can turn around to go back to my work station, there he is, right fucking behind me. And while he could eat anything he wants, he doesn't. He chooses whatever snack I choose. WHATEVER SNACK I CHOOSE. Like he wants to be my new BFF or something. I even purposely bought some of the most vile GF foods out there, and forced myself to eat them, just as a test, and lo and behold, if I ate it, he'd eat it. It's actually a little disturbing. I eventually bought my own snacks and kept them right next to me to dissuade his freakish behavior. He's since latched on to a colleague. She's vegan. So apparently now he is too.

So there you have it -- as if it wasn't bad enough that we have to give up our entire lives for this thankless fucking job for more than a month (we've been here 26 days and have at least 10 more to go), we have to deal with The First Year. Who we've nicknamed FS. Because we need to be able to talk about him while he's around so as not to go utterly out of our minds batshit crazy. And FreakShow would just be too rude.

No News = Good News? Not Exactly

In early June, maybe even late May, I applied for a new job. One where the hours will be more manageable and one where my commute will drop from 90 minutes in each direction to a mere 15 minutes in each direction. Meaning, even if the hours aren't any better at the new place, I'd still get back more than 2 hours a day that I currently lose sitting on a fucking train.

So -- June/May whatever....I send in my resume. A couple weeks later, I get invited to an interview. It takes a couple more weeks to set that up but it eventually happens and it goes GREAT! They fucking LOVE me. So much so that they ask me on the spot to come in for a second interview.

The second interview, thanks to my shitty fucking work schedule, took over a month to set up but it too seemed to go really well. Left there on a high -- absolutely sure the job was mine. They told me a decision would be made soon, within a matter of days. And then...NOTHING. Not a word. Radio fucking silence.

I couldn't take it. Here I was, spending each day thinking, Is today the day I give my notice? Can I book that weekend for early October? I started thinking about what it would be like to have free time again. But after a week of nothing, I started to go a little nuts and so I make a call and I'm told "Oh yeah, so great to hear from you, we're gonna decide early next week, yada yada bullshit."

That was 10 days ago. TEN. MOTHERFUCKING. DAYS. And on each of those days the job seems less and less likely. And the plans for fall have to be canceled. And the misery that is my job starts to set back in. Sure, they haven't said no. But they haven't said yes either.

Everyone says no news is good news. But that's not particularly comforting when you're facing 18 hour days in the interim. Who cares if no news is good news if you go crazy before you can get the good news, right?

A Red Bull Convert Speaks

It is Summer Solstice today...and I've heard its a beautiful day. I've heard the spring was nice too. But I wouldn't really know because I've been in the seventh circle of hell, known in wider circles as my job.

Have I mentioned lately how much I hate my job? Well, its getting worse by the day. In March, I was so bored I wanted to pull my hair out. And then April came along and I've barely seen the light of day since. On Saturday, I got shipped off to jolly olde England for the most exhausting of all my cases and all my friends kept saying how lucky I was -- how it was just sooooo coooooool that I got to travel to London on business. So cool my fucking ass. What my friends don't seem to understand, even after I fucking explained it to them, is that the only parts of London I'll be seeing are the inside of my client's offices, the inside of the law offices of our co-counsel, and if I'm lucky, the inside of my hotel room for a few hours each night. I got to see London Bridge, too, but that was only because we had to drive over Tower Bridge this morning to get to one of the offices where I'll be spending the better part of the next week (and then three more weeks in July). And yet, despite being told all this, the friends all insisted, Oh stina, I'm sure you'll have some free time to yourself; you'll be able to have some fun. And something inside me would crack just a touch more.

So I gave up trying to explain the insanity that is my job. I even gave up telling people I was traveling because I just couldn't bear to hear the, Oh that's so cool, nonsense anymore. I've almost given up on getting a good night sleep - but a little part in the back of brain remains hopeful, and I can't in good conscious say I "gave up" on sleep because that would suggest I've done so voluntarily even though the sleep deprivation at this point is more akin to torture than it is due to some undying work ethic or some shit.

And so, to keep myself from falling asleep at my computer and hitting my face on my keyboard (again) I've given up water for Red Bull. Even though the only time I ever used to touch the stuff was after a shot of Jager had been dropped in it. Which, actually, come to think of it, might not be a bad idea right about now. Because, seriously, if I'm going to be delusional from lack of sleep, might as well get a buzz while I'm at it, right? I'm not talking about getting dance-on-the-bar drunk or anything, just a shot or two to take the edge off. Bad idea? Good idea? You let me know. In the meantime, I've got to go see if Marks & Spencer unpacked the new shipment of Red Bull yet.

Dom Perignon taste. Korbel budget.

In 9 months and 2 days I'm getting married. Well, technically, I'm ALREADY married, so I guess the proper word is wedding. In 9 months and 2 days I'm having a wedding. In the Dominican Republic. On the beach. And now that we have a travel agent that doesn't suck, it's coming together quite nicely. Except one little teensy tiny little thing. Its nothing really. It's only, well, its only . . .

THE DRESS. Oh goddess help me.

Don't get me wrong, I know I still have plenty of time. So I'm not really stressing about finding something I like (although I'm kinda hoping I can avoid too many trips to those bridal salon joints, something about them just seem so....so....antiseptic and uptight). No, that's not it. You see, my problem, when it comes to the minor issue of what the hell I'll be wearing to my own goddamn wedding, is not finding something I like but its finding something I like that I can actually afford. My problem, quite simply, is that my tastes are WAY beyond any reasonable calculation of my budget. WAY beyond. Besides, even if I had it laying around, I'm not about to spend five or ten grand, OR MORE!, on a few pieces of chiffon that are going to be worn on a beach, for a few hours. That's just so not my style. There are so many better ways to spend that kind of money.

And yet, there in front of me, page after page, are pictures of pretty dresses and every time I find one that jumps off the page and screams "me, me, me! find me! buy me!", I look more closely and find that its a custom Vera Wang; or a vintage Dior; or, like this cutie to your left, a fucking Monique Lhullier. Granted, these lovely ladies have nothing on the most expensive dress ever purchased, but still. They're outta my league. Way out of my league. Even though they are gorgeous as hell. So now the search continues. I only hope I can find something, without too much effort, or too many pushy bridal sales ladies, that is as fabulous as a Marchesa but at a price that doesn't make my stomach turn.

Although who am I really kidding -- if I hit the numbers, I'll buy whatever the hell I want, money be damned. I'll just donate the same amount to charity to assuage my liberal guilt. Ahh, now that would really make this whole dress shopping ordeal a pleasure.

Hey there internet world...

How's it going? It's been a while, huh? My fault, totally, of course, but what the hell can I say, I'm a scatterbrain. I kept meaning to stop by a share a story or two and then, BAM, next thing ya know, February is almost over. I mean, seriously, where the fuck have these last few month gone? And how the hell is it possible that it seems to have passed by in a flash and yet, at the same time, winter seems so un-fucking-believably long? I don't have it nearly as bad as my friends down south, for sure, what with snopocalypse, and snOMG, and snomageddon and the Real World DC and all, but still. The leaves were falling just a moment ago and its felt like Narnia before the thaw ever since. Weird, right?

But anyway, let's see, in the last few months I've been, at one time or another.... busy, distracted, overwhelmed, excited, relaxed, overworked, exhilarated, depressed, proud, shocked, nostalgic, disappointed, ridiculously happy and pathetically addicted to facebook, to name just a few. It would take several pages for the details of where all that came from, so, in hopes of keeping your attention, I'll just give you the highlights. And only the good ones at that because, quite simply, I've had some vino and don't wanna make myself sad. So, here it goes...late 2009 thru early 2010, in a nutshell...

There was......playing "Champion!" at the Rocky statue during the Great Urban Race, attending the NCCC Conference in Chicago and the very next day jetting off to DC for a visit with Mr & Mr Durban Bud & a sea of rainbow flags at the National Equality March, Turkey Day at Denver Stadium with my bro & his boys (which counts as a good highlight even though the Giants even barely showed up to play that day), the annual Jamaica trip (best job perk ever!!!), White Christmas in Charlottesville with the fam (with a snow fort and everything), and then, the super-duper favoritist highlight ever, which includes a bunch of its own smaller highlights -- 12 days in Costa Rica, during what were some of the coldest days the east coast has seen all winter, to see two of our very dearest friends tie the knot and during which time we......

...got a private river tour of Cano Negro near the Nicaraguan border (including our own special little run in with some seriously heavy armed Tico cops)















...had the pleasure of getting to know Carlos (former Jersey resident and Tico-born proprietor of Chachagua Rain Forest Hotel, which you HAVE to go to if you ever find yourself in central CR) and his horses














...got to stay in one of the most beautiful rooms I've ever seen with a view there are not words for

The Room:
















The View:
















...entered and won what we could only describe as Battle Karaoke















...watched as El Jefe, an adorable and yet somewhat terrifying monkey, climbed onto our private deck (named El Jefe, or The Boss, because, as the DH said, "well he's the boss of me" -- cause really, if there were a big ass monkey on your deck, you'd probably let him be in charge of you too)
















...had drinks in an Iran-Contra era airplane





















....witnessed a simple yet stunning wedding ceremony on a piece of beach that gets washed out each day and so will never again be exactly the same (which I thought was just so crazy cool)



















And best of all, got to live life with no cell phones, television, blackberries or internet for 10 whole days. It was glorious. So much so that I'm thinking seriously of buying property there just to have a place to escape every so often. Because then at least I'd have an excuse for not stopping by more often......

In case I haven't mentioned...

I'm a HUGE NY Giant's fan. I'm talking major crazy, out-of-my-mind, scream-your-face-off, rabid fan. I even own season tickets (well not exactly "own", yet, but that's a long story that its just too late to tell) and I'm laying out a sick amount of cash for the right to keep those tickets when the new stadium opens. Plus, in March, we went on the "Cruise with the Champions" -- which was just a regular cruise to the Bahamas with the addition of some Giants' players and some private events where you get to meet said players (it rocked!!!! except for the motion sickness part -- that was so not cool).

So, there we are, enjoying a cruise to the Bahamas while our friends are freezing back home and who should we meet, and save from what appeared to be an overzealous fan trapping him in a corner so he, the psycho fan, could drone on and on about this game or that game or whateverthefuck he was rambling about? Well. . . we met all the guys on the trip (including possible Hall of Famer Otis Anderson), but the one in the pic (for you non-fans out there) is none other than Lawrence Tynes, the kicker for Big Blue. Who once again proved his worth tonight when he kicked not one, but TWO, field goals in the last few seconds of the game for the WIN!!!!! Over those America's-team-my-ass, Dallas Cowgirlsboys.

Now, this is the only picture of me with any of the players -- although I did technically meet them all. Like I said, I'm rabid, but I'm not a hanger-on or stalker so much. The DH, however, who is usually pretty quiet, well, he out of nowhere gained some amazing fame-whoring skills on this trip. I think we have pictures of him with every single player and ex-player there. It was remarkable. We even ended up bowling with OA and one night, after I'd gone to bed, he actually caught up with Steve Smith & Domenick Hixon in one of the bars on the ship and ended up doing tequila shots half the night. I couldn't believe it. Here's a guy who doesn't even like to call to order take out, chit chattin with the pros. And, excuse me, but WTF -- he couldn't wake my ass up to do tequila shots with the pros? I like pros. I can handle tequila (usually). I mean, sure, I'd have been pissed at first, but as soon as he said "shots with the players", I'd have been up outta bed, dressed and ready to go in minutes.

Anyway -- Shit. I guess I forgot my initial point. Then again, maybe there never was one. I did have quite a few Redbridges while watching the game. And there was much screaming and jumping around so I'm pretty beat. I guess I'll just leave it with this...

COWBOYS SUCK! GIANTS RULE! Na na na na na.


P.S. I should add that I came really close to scrapping this post because the picture of me is just terrible (can you say double chin?), but I like to think I'm bigger than caring-about-outside-appearances bullshit (and for the most part I am, with people other than myself that is) so I let it ride. Plus, HEL. LO. It's not like anyone would believe me if I said I met Tynes and didn't have a picture to back it up. That and this picture was taken 6 months and about 16 pounds ago, so there's that.

P.P.S. Note to the hanger-on we saved Tynes from -- the Giants players are not going to be your best buds now simply because you were on the same ship and saw each other in your swim trunks. They aren't even going to remember your name, just like I'm sure they don't remember mine. Although it's possible Smith & Hixon remember the night of tequila shots with the guy from Jersey. But you'd have to ask them.

Looking Back at Summer 2009

It's Labor Day today, which means just one thing -- the summer is officially OVER. O-fucking-ver. And that just sucks. I'm so not ready to say goodbye to flip-flops and sarongs just yet (not like I've had much opportunity to wear the latter). But the worst part is that it feels like summer only just began. So in the hopes of making myself think I had a longer summer than it seems, I thought I'd look back at the season and what it held. So here, in a nutshell, it is...

Memorial Day weekend: the annual "Screw the Parkway" BBQ (named in honor of the highway in our backyard and the ridiculous traffic visible on this start of the season weekend). This was our 5th year doing it, and each year it gets easier, and yet, miraculously, more elaborate. Each year we learn new tricks, notice areas for improvement (like for example, having a two-tiered start time starting next year so that the kids get the run of the place during the day, and the adults get the night) -- basically, we figure by the time we're on year 10 we'll need a bigger yard - and another bathroom. Which wouldn't be a problem if it wasn't for this fucking shitty real estate market.

June:
-- Bon Jovi! at the Corzine rally: I'm not a huge Corzine supporter but there is nothing I won't deal with to get to see NJ's homegrown hottie. Of course, he only did a few songs, and the rest of the rally sucked (i mean seriously -- if you are trying to engender support, perhaps you should include speakers who don't sound like mindless morons. You want me to vote for you and yet you pick as your local campaign director some chick who can barely string 2 sentences together? Here's a hint, Mr. Corzine -- in the future you should really pre-approve ALL speeches).
-- Party for P&H: celebrating a whole bunch of major milestones (20 years together, 10 years married and 40 years on this earth for each of them). Even the rain couldn't spoil the fun on this day!
-- Weekend trip to Phili to see my cuz & my new "nephew". Since L&J have the new baby, not to mention a very rambunctious 2 y.o. little girl, it was a pretty chill weekend, but it wasn't home, so that's cool.
-- Virginia Beach with the fam: highlights include getting to see my 65 year old mom boogie boarding, the raging tan I came home with & of course, the Sun City Carnival tour (oh how I luv me some Kenny Chesney). The whole trip only lasted a few days, though, so that kinda sucked.

July:
-- concerts, concerts & more concerts. Lynyrd Skynyrd & Kidd Rock; Nickelback (and whoever the hell opened for them); and concluding with day 2 at the All Points West festival (which, blessedly, was rain free! albeit still mud-soaked: next year, I'm wearing wellies for sure).
-- my 20th high school reunion! At the same hotel where we had our senior prom. Cheesy, yes. But still a ton of fun. Coolest thing about it? Learning that a certain popular girl who seemed like such a snob in high school was actually totally shy and worried that everyone would think she was snob because she was so focused on her sport that she didn't really hang out much.
-- wish I had more to add here, but what can I say, July sucked. (mostly thanks to the shitty hours I had to put in at work).

August:
-- Weekend in Seaside: this was supposed to include a half-day at "surf camp" but thanks to having to work late coupled with shitty traffic, I didn't get to the beach until almost 11PM and then ended up oversleeping the next morning. We probably should have gone right to bed after I arrived, but what kind of fun is that? The DH was able to get a Seaside Tony, though, and we stopped for steamers on the way home so the whole weekend wasn't a bust.
-- The Great Urban Race NYC: on the hottest day the City had seen all fucking summer long. Perhaps wearing all black was a mistake. But damn it was fun!!! So much so, that we're heading to Phili in September to do it again.
-- Recruiting trip to UVA: had to miss my nephew's first ever Giants game (preseason) for this, but I figured I could use the brownie points at work. Besides, I got to hang out with the fam on the firm's tab.
-- S&J's in the rain: A BBQ 2 years in the making, S&J have decided to host a BBQ whenever there is a drought because every time they decide to host one it fucking rains anyway. Even with the rain, though, it was a fun party with great food (including my own GF coconut cupcakes which were gone in like 5 minutes -- and no one even knew they were GF) and great friends. Plus, I learned that I was going to be an auntie again (congrats J&T)!!
-- hiking & canoeing in Ithaca: I actually was supposed to be in Ithaca over this weekend and through mid-week; HOWEVER, thanks to my shitty ass job, I had to change the plans and travel to the region last week. It is a really pretty part of NY state, and if you like hiking at all, or like waterfalls, then I highly recommend it. But don't waste your time going to Moosewood -- maybe we just had a bad experience, but after bad service and mediocre food, the uber-famous vegetarian restaurant (and purveyor of fine cook books) now has the title of most over-rated restaurant I've ever had the displeasure of eating at.

That's it -- the whole shebang. And the one glaring problem (to me anyway)? Not nearly enough beach days. Especially considering that the beach is only an hour from my house. Gonna have to do something about that next summer. At least I'll be seeing quite a bit of it over the winter...

Now bring on the fall, and all the awesome shoes & boots that come along with it. ;)

So this is what exhausted feels like

Today is the 19th day in a row that I've had to work. And, even if I magically get next weekend off, I've got to work tomorrow and all week, so it will be 26 days in a row before I'm done. And the chances of actually getting off next weekend are basically slim to none, so add another weekend, plus the standard work week to the total, and I'm looking at 33 days without a fucking day off. I'm already at my limit -- and have no idea where the energy is going to come from to get through the next 14 days. No idea whatsoever.

This should be fucking illegal. No wonder lawyers are a bunch of suicide prone, alcoholic drug addicts.

Dancing to the Music in Your head

Most people hear music in their heads. A song comes on, they can feel it, so to speak. They remember the tune; they know all the words; maybe even they see the video in their mind's eye. And of course, everyone is familiar with that desperate moment when you get some god-awful song stuck in your brain You know the one -- that song that you wouldn't admit listening to is suddenly repeating itself over and over and over and over and over and, well, you get my point.

Or maybe not.

My point , you see, [oh, and on a total tangent, I just watched the most obnoxiously smug commercial -- 'don't be so vanilla' some 7 year old quips; why the fuck does a 7 year old know what the hell that even means?]...oh, right, my point...

My point is that while some people hear music in their heads, I don't. Well, I mean, I do. But I don't just hear the music. I also SEE dancing. Or rather, its like I FEEL dancing. I choreograph. In my head. To everything. Almost all the time. And what is really crazy is that I can almost feel the movement coursing through my body. Even though I'm usually on a train or subway or some other public place where it would not be exactly appropriate to break out into dance. Maybe it's some weird psycho thing I've created in my mind, but I think breaking into song would be looked upon less strangely than breaking out into dance. Not to mention that you can sing no matter what you're wearing. Try dancing in a suit with 3 and a half inch heels, and things could get ugly.

But yeah, I dance in my head. ALL. THE. TIME. On the subway. In line at the grocery store. At my desk. Ev. ry. where. Always. If there's music on, you can bet I've got a number going on in my mind. Hell, the other night, at the post-last call cocktail at my place, I started actually randomly dancing. And not like oh I'm at a party, dancing. Lyrical dancing. Mia Michaels type shit. My friends, and the DH, all thought I was totally nuts. But regardless, the dancing never stops.

And I think I know why. Up until the last, say, 5 years, give or take a couple of year, I was a rabid club goer. I wasn't there for the X, or the potential hook-ups like some folks I know, I was there to dance. In fact, for as long as I can remember, I've always tried to get my friends to go out dancing with me. And it has always been depressing how few of them would ever actually go. Oh, they'd show up at the club but then just stand at the bar and refuse to dance, leaving me to dance alone (hello, if I wanted to go dance by myself at some random club I wouldn't have asked you to go with me) or not at all. A few years back, the few who said yes was depressing, but now no one EVER wants to go dancing. No one. Never. And it fucking sucks.

Plus, thanks to the new job and the crazy fucked up hours associated with it, I've not been able to take this dance class I used to take every Monday night.

And then, there's this little part of me that thinks maybe it's more than just missed classes and a club-free existence. Maybe I see dance in my head where others hear music because, simply, I feel most alive when I'm dancing. Maybe, just maybe, like George Balanchine once said, I HAVE to dance. I know that sounds, like, wow, coming from someone pushing 40 who is not a professional dancer and I realize its probably too late for me to become some star dancer, but maybe I could still become some hotshot choreographer. Or even just a great dance teacher. Maybe.

Of course any of these choices, or paths, would require leaving my job and taking some ginormous risks. Which I believe I made quite clear in my last post, I am nowhere near ready to take. But, perhaps the winds of change will sweep in faster than I can see. For they are definitely starting to blow.

For now, however, me and my Dior bag will have to keep dancing inside and maybe make some new friends to go clubbing with until I can figure the rest out.

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.

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?

Friends?

In the last week and a half, three of my "friends" have canceled plans we had made - plans that had been made weeks and weeks before. And not just canceled, but canceled at the last minute. Like the fucking day of last minute. Three different people on three different nights, the last of which just happened. And I am so fucking pissed off. I mean really, what the fuck? Is it just me or is that just fucking rude as hell. And no, there weren't particularly good reasons for the cancellations - in fact, the reasons sucked and have actually made it worse. One girl decided she needed to go to the gym instead. One claimed to be sick (and I later found out she wasn't really all that sick since she went out the next night with someone else) and the third said, wait for it, that her contacts are bothering her. That's right -- she cannot go out in 3 hours because her fucking contacts are bothering her now. Or rather, she can't come hang out at my fucking house because she's had her contacts in for too long. What, she can't put her fucking glasses on? Really? Well fuck her. I mean, COME ON. At least lie to me and say it's too fucking cold and you don't want to leave the house. As for the others, fuck them too.

I left the south, and my family, to move back north to be closer to my friends. But with friends like this... Maybe I should have just stayed where I was.

What's in a Name?

About 18 months ago, I was diagnosed with Celiac Disease (I actually had been diagnosed years and years earlier and declared cured, but that's another story). For those who don't know, people with celiac disease cannot properly digest gluten -- which is found in wheat, rye and barley and anything made with those items (which is like 90% of shit you find in the regular supermarket). If we eat those things, we generally get really sick. We won't die, but puking after eating is no fun for anyone. Plus, we have increased risks of all kinds of shitty cancers and other diseases. So, how do you treat celiac disease? You don't. The only thing you can do is change your diet...so for the last 18 months I've gone without decent bread (except the breadsticks at Risotteria in NYC) and haven't even bothered to step inside a deli (I see no point in going to a deli if I can't order a fucking sub -- or even most soups for that matter because most of those have fucking gluten too; oh - and Chinese food! Yeah, Chinese food -- because of the soy sauce, but don't get me started). Anyway -- you can only imagine the hell I live in -- I'm fucking Italian and haven't been able to eat bread or have a a fucking sub. And then today...a ray of fucking light.

And this light came in the shape of an email...earlier today a friend of mine sent me a link to an article about this new gluten free "deli" about 30 minutes from my house. The place is called The Mighty Panini or some shit like that but was touted by the owner as a "deli." So, call me fucking crazy, but I assumed the place would have paninis, or at the very least, deli-like sandwiches. I mean that's pretty much a "well duh" statement, right? So -- hearing about a gluten free deli, I was totally pumped and didn't care if the place was an hour away -- I was gonna fucking drive there and get a fucking panini for dinner.

So... after work I get in my car, I drive 30 minutes (on the fucking toll ridden parkway no less) and figure myself lucky as-all-get-out when I find a parking spot right in front of the place. I go in...anticipation nearly dripping from my smile...hell, my smile was so wide the guy probably thought I was a freak. I look up at the menu on the wall, get ready to order, and BAM!

"Sorry, miss, we don't have that menu anymore."

They don't have that menu anymore? Whatthefuck? Didn't this place just open? But then I remember the article saying something about the place having been changed to a gluten free deli from a regular deli, so I figure they just hadn't gotten around to taking down the old menu and I say, "OK, what do you have?"

And so the kindly deli worker points to the first deli case -- "here's the meats and cheeses we have" and then, pointing to the next deli case, he says "And here's the bread we use."

Well - that's when the smile disappeared. Because sitting in that refrigerated deli case was a package of the very same crappy excuse-for-bread gluten-free bread that I have in my fucking fridge at home. No sub rolls. No paninis. No hard rolls. Just a pathetic excuse for white bread and an even more pathetic excuse for wheat bread. I wanted to cry. Or scream. Or, I don't even know what. And all I could think was "deli?" Fuck. That.

Of course, I still ordered a sandwich, and grabbed some frozen lasagna. What can I say, I was fucking starving. And the lasagna they don't carry at Whole Foods.

Revolution and Resolutions

What can I say, 2008 was both good and bad. I lost my father-in-law and one of my kitties, but I witnessed (and was a part of!) the most pivotal election of my lifetime (so far, anyway). Some of my clients were victorious in their lawsuits (meaning they had to pay much less than if some other law firm had been representing them) and some of them annoyed the shit out of me because they haven't yet got what they think is coming to them (and don't even get me started on what that might be, other than the millions they're expecting). Overall, though, I suppose, it was not a totally awful year, perhaps even better than average. Even though first the housing market and then the economy tanked, meaning I'm stuck in my fucking too-small house for a while or at least until I can figure out a way to convince a bank to give me another loan so I can keep my current house (and rent it) while buying another one (to actually live in). We'll see.

But I am hopeful, thanks to our President-Elect whose take on the world I believe is revolutionary -- imagine, thinking that an election should be about the people and not the corporations that employ them. That an inauguration should include everyday folks and not just the famous and powerful. That people from all regions of the political spectrum are asked to be a part of the governing body. Imagine what can be accomplished when the government really is of the people, by the people and for the people. If it wasn't simply a return to the original precepts of this country, such a position would be revolutionary.Hell, to some of the power brokers, it still is. And that makes me think that 2009 might be even better than 2008, even if the economy is slow in recovering, even if I have to stay in my too-small house longer than I would like; even if I don't get tickets to the inauguration. :) It's amazing how a little hope can create brightness in times of darkness. So on with the revolution!!!

And now, the resolutions....because it's hardly new years until I make some promises to myself. So...

1. Take better care of myself.
Tomorrow I will have been smoke free (with a few little slip ups) for exactly six months, so hooray me. But while that is a step forward towards healthfulness, the problem is that those 6 smoke-free months also led to me gaining nearly 15 fucking pounds, and that totally sucks. So, this year, I WILL get rid of those pounds, plus a few extra I was already working on before quitting smoking. And that means eating better, exercising more, drinking more water, etc. I could make a whole bunch of specific sub-resolutions/promises to myself, but I generally don't like "rules" so an overall idea of caring for myself will probably work best for me.

2. Clear out the clutter
I've got a basement plus two storage units full of stuff. Most of this stuff came out of my father-in-law's house, and was the natural result of selling his home, but there's also a lot of stuff that was ours that just got shoved aside following a nasty flood a few years back. Hell, I don't even remember what is in some of the boxes. But getting rid of that much shit is much harder work than you would expect. With the FIL's stuff -- the DH and his brother want to "go through it" but they're both awful procrastinators, which means I have to do it myself or it will be 2010 before I get the fucking SAM out of my driveway. And then there's the question of what to do with all the stuff -- it seems terribly wasteful to throw it out -- its all in good condition, but what does one do with 27 boxes of books? Or 4 boxes of old maps (no, I'm not fucking kidding)? My plan is to answer these questions and reclaim my driveway. And it would be great if I could get it done by the end of May.

3. Be timely in acknowledging life events
I am TERRIBLE at remembering birthdays and shit. I mean fucking awful. I don't really forget them, I just forget to send cards (even when I remember to buy them) or forget to call to actually say happy birthday. In other words, I am the queen of the belated birthday card and present. This isn't a big deal with my grown-up friends, but with my nieces and nephews, it's pretty shitty, right? So, I resolve to be on time this year, at least with the kids. Step one will be adding all the dates to my Outlook calendar, which will then send my reminders!! First up, Mom on January 16.

4. Cook more; take out less.
Somewhat related to number 1, I've decided that while take-out is simple, its not particularly good for you. And kind of expensive too. So, more home-cooked meals are on the agenda. I started the year out really good actually -- with the exception of New Years Day, no take out. And for me, that's monumental -- seriously, no take out on a Saturday night at home? I've amazed even myself. This is all thanks to a little gift I bought myself (can you say crock-pot people?); hopefully I can keep it up.

5. Break the procrastination habit
I procrastinate. I do. And I can't help it (ok, that's a cop out, but you get my drift). I will often think to myself, no need to do that today, there will be time tomorrow. And then tomorrow comes and I say the same thing and next thing I know, I'm working until 3AM because I didn't get shit done earlier. Or I'm scrambling to get an overly long to do list done during a long weekend when I could otherwise be relaxing. Or, I'm calling my 6 year old nephew a week late to say happy birthday (see resolution #3). So, no more of that crap. Starting today, I will be more mindful of my time. Because outlook is half the battle, right. If I believe there is time to get things done today and choose to do those things today, then there is the time and nothing has to wait until tomorrow. Or something like that. I'm working on it.

And finally, # 6 -- do actual work when actually at work. This one obviously is going to take some effort since I'm actually at work right now. ;)

Jamaica mon!

In just over 24 hours from now I will be sipping a cocktail on the beach at the Ritz-fucking-Carlton in Montego Bay. Of course, between now and then, I've got to finish a couple of memos, review a complaint, gather the depositions I have to read on the flight, arrange for a pet sitter, take out the trash, do the dishes (I fucking hate coming home to housework), pack (which is a hell all of its own), and figure out how the hell I'm getting to the airport. Yes, I realize this isn't that bad considering a Jamaica trip follows the madness (a trip which, I should add, is being paid for almost entirely by my firm), but still. As I said in response to a friend's blog post earlier today, I wish I had a personal assistant.

Too Much of a Good Thing?

On occasion, I've been known to take my clothes to this lovely little laundromat around the corner from my house for the "fluff-n-fold" service (for all you dirty minds out there, it's not that kind of fluffing). I do this even though I have a perfectly functional washer and dryer in my home -- machines I spent good money for when I purchased the home 4 years ago. Usually my excuse for paying 90 cents a pound for someone else to do my laundry, when I could obviously do it for myself, is that I don't have the time to do it myself (and because sometimes happy hour is more important than saving a few bucks for clean jeans) and this is sometimes true and sometimes my own rationalization for spending money somewhat frivolously when people around me are losing their jobs. On a few occasions I have a real reason -- i.e. the item needing washing won't fit in my washer and so I need the use of an industrial sized machine. Then the whole "I don't have the time" story really becomes true -- I mean seriously, who has the time to sit in a laundromat to wash ONE item? OK - maybe I could make the time, but considering the ridiculous hours I work sometimes, I would so much rather be doing something else. So, call me spoiled, but whatever.

So anyway, this morning I stopped in this lovely little laundromat to drop off my (fake) down comforter (no bird was harmed in the making of this item) which, having been in storage since last winter (yeah that's right, its winter bitches -- or at least it was last night), needs some freshening. Now granted, I haven't been there in a while, but this morning I realize I might use the place too much because the girl who weighs your clothes and gives you your receipt said to me "Good morning 'stina." (ok, she didn't say 'stina, since only d-bud actually calls me that, but she did know my actual name). Of course, she also said my king-size comforter would be ready by 6PM even though based on the number of laundry bags in line I probably should have had to wait until tomorrow. Which means I won't have to pile on extra blankets when the temperature drops below freezing tonight and instead I'll be able to snuggle up in my freshly laundered comfy-as-hell comforter. And sorry, but that's worth 90 cents a pound. Fuck, that's worth a hell of lot more than that. And if that makes me spoiled, well, then call me fucking princess. I figure fuck it, I'm already a latte-drinking-east-coast-liberal-elitist, might as well add spoiled to the moniker. ;)