Daily Observations

Note to self: Ruth's Chris Steakhouse isn't really the place to overturn tables and fight, hockey-style, other people.

Note to others: The desserts were fantabulous!

Note to Mom: I didn't actually turn over tables and fight anyone. I was only pretending. Although I did say I'd use the old "pull the sweater over the head and punch at the midsection" trick. We left shortly afterward. I'm pretty sure they knew I was kidding. Uh, I hope.

Note to therapist(s), etc.: It's the NHL's fault. They're having a lockout season. Someone's gotta do something and it might as well be me.

Note to self again: I thought you were trying to be succinct from now on.

I am....so, uh, The End.

Just beat it

You are a drumstick. Absolutely insane. That is how most would describe you. You aren't afraid to take risks, and enjoy putting yourself in strange situations. Most people hang out with you because of your hilarious sense of humour. You light up any bad situation, and can help all of your friends with their problems, except for your own. Because of this, you enjoy being around people like you. Many shut you out for your very weird, random personality, but honestly, you shouldn't care. Most compatible with: Guitar, and another drumstick. (Ya think? -- Ed.) Click here -- What Random Object Represents Your Inner Self?

Seen many places, but only Wayne inspired me to take the quiz.

And so the search begins...for America's Next Top Flashy

The search at sea is unsuccessful (sorry, the picture was too small to read)



It seems that no one knows where Flashy is, but s/he's generating quite a bit of gossip.

Deep Thoughts

Find FLASHY McGENIUS PANTS!

The snack that smiles back

Just finished my mega-box of Goldfish Crisps (Sour Cream & Onion - how could I resist?) for dinner. Yeah, I didn't eat a real dinner. I figure I wasted all my calories on the equivalent of 3 servings of Goldfish. Now the question is, should I eat some Cheetos or bust open the box of Parmesan Goldfish?

I already watched the finale of Project Runway (I taped it on Wednesday and studiously avoided learning anything about it - but today I had the feeling that it would be like that episode where Jerry doesn't want to know how the game ends, so I tried to have as little conversation as possible and watched it the minute I got home).

Never leave me to my own devices on a weekend night. Apparently, I'll eat anything orange. And I'll blog for no reason.

I'm sooooooooooooooooooooo bored.

UPDATE: I have a Goldfish hangover. I woke up with a tremendous headache. And no, I didn't have anything except some diet pop to drink. And water. So let that be a lesson - don't eat 3 servings of Goldfish for dinner. And if you're wondering how much a serving of Goldfish is, it's really a lot. Like 39 pieces per serving or something. Poor old Goldfish.

Da plane, da plane!

This post requires reader participation.

How many of all y'all have tattoos? How many tattoos? Where? Why? Would you do it again? Do you want another one? Any good stories behind any of these tattoos? Anybody almost get a tatt and back out for one reason or another?

You don't have to answer all of the questions. And you can be anonymous (Mom, I know you have a secret tattoo, so you can just anonymously write it [if you knew my Mom, you would drop dead right now after reading that]. She doesn't have any tattoos. Or any bad habits that I'm aware of. The woman is a freaking saint. Now if she writes in that she does have a tattoo, then I will, at minimum, fall out of my chair.) about it if you want.

Feel free to email me pictures. I'll post 'em. We could have a "who does this tattoo belong to?" contest. Or not.

Slightly related: I asked this question on a questionnaire for a game we used to play at a former job and I learned that our department had something like 2.1 tattoos for every person. And that's just the people who played and answered that question. Um, that's a lot of ink. I guess what fascinates me the most about tattoos is the stories behind them. So humor me.

Never gonna get it

Okay, I am a boring, boring person, yet I could barely come up with 10 things I have never done. So I mainly just stole all of Stag's things and deleted the ones I have done and then thought very hard and long about what things I haven't done.

1. Never seen Lord of the Rings.
2. Never had a massage.
3. Never shot a gun.
4. Never been to Canada.
5. Never finished my music degree.
6. Never watched an entire episode of Friends.
7. Never been to Mexico.
8. Never had stitches.
9. Never had my tonsils taken out.
10. Never gave blood.

And now, for some pitiful excuses/reasons to my "never"s
1. Boring! Long! Misty, smoky, hazy, bearded, etc.!
2. I also don't like to be touched. I'm assuming that that greasy hand-rub they give you during a manicure doesn't count. But even that makes me kind of squeamish.
3. But I'm not opposed to it. In fact, I would love to.
4. See #3.
5. I would finish it if I had the chance. Or the talent. Whichever.
6. By choice. Ugh.
7. A says it's unsafe. But maybe that's because I want to go to far south Mexico.
8. Once, they wanted to stitch up my head (either for the time I cracked it open on a neighbor's house [I flipped over backwards on a porch swing and had a little mind meld with the bricks...they didn't say much] or the time I stepped right into my brother's backswing with a golf club. I personally don't recommend doing either.) but I was afraid, so they just put butterfly bandages on the gash. Result? I have a sizeable scar on my head, which means I have a bald spot there. Oh, and I'm assuming that wisdom teeth stitches don't count. I never saw them, anyway.
9. What can I say?
10. As Stag says, don't hate me, but I never weighed enough until a few of years ago. And then I was just selfish. Now it's back to the first reason but also add plain selfishness.

Hold, please

I called a bar prep company today because there was a mixup with how much I owed. I asked for an accounting of which seminars I was signed up for and how much each cost and what discounts they had already applied.

The woman was getting exasperated with me (although I feel it was because she wouldn't just tell me in a list form what I was signed up for and what that class cost). She put me on hold and I was half-whispering, half-mouthing to Office Mate, Do you think I'm being rude? She's getting frustrated with me.

Office Mate shakes her head.

I mouth, She put me on hold.

Office Mate's eyes widen. Whispers back: She called you a whore?!

Noooo! I'm on hold.

Ohhh. I thought you said she called you a whore and I was thinking you were taking that really well. I would have asked to speak to the manager.

Well, truth is a defense to defamation.

Is there something you want to tell me?

Disclaimer

To the person in the UK who has been reading me for quite a while:

Don't take me as a representative sampling of Americans Asians law students girls normal people anything.

That being said, why the heck are you still reading me? Y'all have better tabloids. Y'all have beefeaters. Y'all have the Spice Girls. Surely there's someone interesting enough on your side of the pond so that you wouldn't be stuck reading little ol' me.

I know...you just want audio blogging so you can hear what a Texan accent sounds like, right?

This one's for Wayne

No joke, this headline or something very similar was on the front page of our local paper about an article in the food section a few weeks ago.

Cakes -- a good way to celebrate birthdays.

Purse Expeditions

Inspired by my cousin THL and Divine Angst, I present the contents of E's purse, which are very uninteresting:

1 Hello Kitty pink satin wallet ($13 and some loose change [since I wrote this, I ate lunch. Deduct $5.58 - salad and a Diet Coke from Wendy's])
1 black leather card case (assorted business cards and membership cards...wait, a 60 minute phone card? Wow.)
1 blue box of Eclipse mints (peppermint flavor)
1 pocket pack of Kleenex (name brand)
1 pair of Apple earbuds
1 blue Pilot G-2 gel pen
1 tube of SPF 15 off-brand chapstick in "almond swirl" flavor
1 tube of Tutti Dolce in Chocolate Fudge or something (thanks, not guilty!)
1 bottle of ReNu lubricating and wetting drops
1 cell phone (set to Stun...I mean Silent)
1 checkbook (checks included)
1 small bottle of Purell
1 pill box
1 iPod Mini in a pink leather case
Keys (keychain is purple with a martini glass and says "I'm a Miranda")
1 claw-type clip, 3 black rubber bands (the "ouchless" kind)

Sheesh, I'm boring. And sadly, none of these items were on SMP's list of 5 things every girl should own. However, I was wearing a baseball cap today.

Eye-rony

Well, apparently I just bruised my own eye. That's what the ribbon was and that's why my eye hurt. It did feel like a bruise. Just on my eye. Creepy.

So Dr. Riggle said I'm fine. And they didn't charge me. But I'm sure they laughed at me.

I'm a weird hypochondriac. I am afraid that I have all sorts of terrible diseases but then refuse to go to the doctor. Once I go, I am afraid to take the medicine because I'm sure I'll get every side effect (hallucination, fainting spells, irregular heartbeat, you name it, I'm afraid of it). So I am much relieved now.

Time for some meeting for some committee that I was drafted into. Whatever. This requires driving. Grrr.

Putting out an APB for DC folks

You know who you are, so pipe up.

If you're from DC or go to school around there or if you just happen to visit the National Zoo a lot, amble on over to Legal Quandary's place.

She might be moving there next year and needs some recommendations on where to go to school, where to eat, where to send the Quandary Offspring and all when she needs a break, etc. Since I would personally apply for a job as a panda keeper if I lived there, I'm no help. I figure she needs something more informative than what I could provide.

So march on over. That's an order.

What to do, what to do...

The first week I had my contacts, things were great. But as the week progressed, I developed a little ribbon network of veins/vessels/whatever in the outside corner of my right eye, leading right up to the contact edge. This concerned me. Mr. McP said it was fine. People at school said, "See your optometrist."

A few nights ago as I was taking them out, my eyeball actually HURT when I took the contact out. Like, my eye itself was sore when I pulled the contact off. At that point, I made an appointment.

It's tomorrow at lunch.

Of course, my eye doesn't hurt NOW or have the veiny ribbon anymore. And to top it off, I've lost my prescription, so I'd have to go back anyway so I could get more refills. I'm going to have to take a stab at guessing which eye was which magnification power for tomorrow (tomorrow is my first new pair...I got the 2-weekly kind or whatever). This should be interesting.

A thinks I should just cancel the appointment. I'm not sure if it's free because I didn't ask and he didn't tell me to come back. I don't think Dr. Riggle likes me. Not that I'm going to start a fan club for him or anything. But still. I'd still need to get my prescription anyway, right? So I might as well go in?

Hel-LO, gorgeous

Not only is she .10 cubic foot bigger, she also has 100 more watts!!!

The microwave, she cooks like a charm.

I picked her up at Wal-Mart. And just in case I was going to sneak out with a ginormous microwave, the alarm went off and I had to wait for the overweight door-checker-person (who was by the food stand, by the way) to huff her way over to check out my receipt.

My only complaint is that I can never remember where the buttons are because our old microwave was born the year I graduated from high school (yikes). The coolest feature (that I know how to use, anyway) is the 1 minute plus button. It's the same as Start, but if you just push it, it'll heat for 1 minute. Saves me ALL the trouble of punching in 1,0,0, start or even 6,0, start.

I gave A the honor of being the first to use the new machine. He set the power on 50% to reheat some meat. I said Engage and pushed the Start button. It was beautiful.

Here she comes, here comes speed racer

Yes, it's part deux of "bikini blogging"!

Except this time I'm in a one-piece Speedo tank. Rowr!

After trying on multitudes of awful swimsuits, I decided on a Speedo. Why? Durability, fully lined, slightly more coverage (although Speedo makes some pretty hottt stuff. See, e.g., the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition; see also the body paint pictures in said issue), plus a cute little Speedo logo. The first one I tried on was so tight it cut off circulation to important parts. The second (the next size up) was so big I thought, one jump into the water and the money will have been spent for naught.

I chose a different style in the first size and found that it fit a lot better. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

I never thought I'd buy those "sport" sandals that have the velcro straps...you know, the kind old people wear with socks? Well, I did. They're actually really comfy and they have great grip if they get wet. I got A some too so we can be dorks together.

Can't. Wait. For. Vacation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nothing like a lunch lady

My sister P gave me this lunch box (on left) for Christmas. (Note how clean and new it looks compared to the one on the right, which is now even dirtier than when the picture was taken.)

I bought this lunch box (on right) at the beginning of law school. You'd think no one would steal food from this because it'd be too obvious. Of course, someone did steal food from it once.

So let that be a warning to all you pre-Ls. Someone will steal your lunch.

PS - Lunch is a funny word, eh? I keep thinking I'm spelling it wrong.

My God, it's full of stars...*

It embarrasses me to say this. Don't think it doesn't. Because I can hear you laughing at me.

Yesterday I was bored, and I clicked around on some blogs. Eventually, I was reeled in by this post, entitled "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine": mysteries of the holodeck. Now, you may think that my Star Trek fascination is dorky or what have you, but I was never a Deep Space Nine fan. Too many Pharynges (sp? It just sounded too similar to phalanges (yer fingers and toes), which may be the cause of my dislike). But these people were having serious conversation over how the holodeck works. And yes, I was pretty drawn in by the discussion. I would still rank this conversation over this one, mainly because as I recall, the easement one was only between a few people.

*The first movie was better. Mainly because this one opened with a guy petting dolphins in his IN-HOME dolphin tank. I've always wanted one but Mr. McP says they're impractical. Seeing as how we're only 5 years away from 2010, I'm beginning to think I'll have a BMW before I get an in-home dolphin tank.

Take me to your leader

Okay, so Scott was nice enough to tell me what the heck those little boxes in haloscan were and how to put a picture in them.

Now I just need to come up with a "defining" picture of "me" that will accompany all my "intelligent" comments.

Oh, and how do I make those little boxes appear in my haloscan? Everybody else has them except me!

Suggestions, please, for paragraph 2.
Answers, please for paragraph 3.

A bad start

This morning I got up at 8 (wow!) and ran downstairs to have the bagel and lox I had been dreaming of since the night before.

I sat down on the couch to read the paper and eat my bagel. My paper plate bent in half under the weight of the bagel and one half fell off, turned over, and landed on the bottom side of my slipper. For a brief second I thought, can I still eat it? Then I realized that it was the bottom of my slipper and so I'd better not. That was really sad. Even sadder was that I didn't have enough salmon left to make a whole other bagel so I had to eat a piece of toast with fish on it. Not. The. Same.

My un-post was a success. Now I have stuff to write about!

Because you know that I love to answer every single question Stag demands to know the answer to, and because I want Haas to keep his name, I shall answer questions from my comments free-for-all.


What's up with the Socks button on my sidebar?

Well, Socks was supposed to be my subtle way of replacing my Democrat donkey button that disappeared after the election.

Socks was the Clinton's cat when they were in the White House. He was found by Chelsea's piano teacher, I think. Anyway, I was actually a member of the Socks The Cat Fan Club in college and would get something like quarterly newsletters and stuff.




I even got this t-shirt, which I admit to still wearing. (Seriously, I'm wearing some will-be-vintage stuff. This shirt doesn't even qualify as "old" yet in my mind.) I'm not sure if you can read what it says on the left but it says Socks the Cat ***** America's First Democat.



Of course, during his presidency, Bill got Buddy (who was later hit by a car). Buddy and Socks never got along. There were some great pictures of Socks hissing at Buddy. Anyway, after the Clintons left the White House, they gave Socks to Betty Curry. I heard that Socks was the grand marshal of Betty's hometown Christmas parade a couple of years ago.

My Socks button usually went on this hat during college (I cropped myself out - you don't want to see a very sweaty young lady...trust me), especially during marching season, but I also used wear it in the summer in general. Then I got concerned that the picture might fade, so I stopped wearing it in the summer.

During the rainy season (which in Law School City is apparently 400 days of the year), it went on my raincoat. However, it's started to rust (I know....duh, but I wasn't thinking) and so it is in the coat closet for now.
----------------------------------
Not Guilty: Have you had tudurcket? Supposedly it's really tasty. One year we did the cajun turkey thing. It was all right but not good enough to do again.

Mr. P, I demand a photo of the Nantucket shirt.

Not Guilty: I also like water, no ice. Unless it's like 400 degrees. I might like some ice then. I prefer tepid water. Not exactly room temperature, but not cold, either. I do like my sodas to be cold, though. None of that european-style soda in the mL where I don't know how much I'm drinking, dang it.

Scott: Dave Matthews has gone into acting? Do tell. Would you rate him better/below Harry Connick, Jr. in acting? (Independence Day - gets killed off soon, so you feel his acting job was tolerable; Hope Floats - he starred in it and I couldn't bring myself to see it)

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I looked in the mirror today and noticed that I have...dimples??? when I smile.

Okay, I thought that dimples were like genetic or something. Like you couldn't outgrow a dimple. Or the inverse, you can't grow a dimple.

If it's not dimples, then I have some severe sagging going on on one side of my face. And before you can ask, I'm pretty sure I haven't had a stroke. And I'm unaware of any cosmetic procedures.

CrapCrapCrapCrapCrapCrapCrapCrapCrapCrapCrapCrapCrapCrapCrapCrap.


As seen on Legal Quandary. Make your own here!

Comment at will

Hmm, maybe that title needs some explanation.

This is an un-post. Therefore, comment on whatever, but remember that my mother is reading, so that thing I told you not to tell her??? Yeah, don't say it. : )

I figure I get some random comments all the time, so why not just have a free-for-all?

Carry on.

Hello children*

Last night we were watching C-Span. (This isn't even the funny part yet.) They had the Canadian Parliament or whoever debating this Civil Marriage Act (like our Defense of Marriage Act). Anyway, we were just cracking ourselves up reading the French titles. For instance, the majority party leader was "Tres Hon. [whatever his name was]." Haha, tres honorable! We watched until the opposition leader came up and he's only honorable. Bummer for him.

But he is the chef de l'opposition. Chef! This kills me every time! David Sedaris has a whole essay/story on his chef (boss, leader, etc. = chef in French if you haven't figured this out) that had a rubber hand. When we got to Paris, all the subways had an emergency box where you were supposed to Poussez pour le chef du statione (push for the station manager). This one girl (obviously a tourist) pushed it and when the disgruntled Chef answered, she realized that it was really for things like emergencies and wasn't for directions. She just kept saying into the box, "I'm sorry, really, I am. I didn't mean to push it," while some Frenchy-sounding English was apparently berating her. Naturally, I just laughed.

*As said by Chef

E's Volcano

Perhaps you recall my holiday artwork?

When I saw that someone had "next blog"ged to me from this blog, I had to visit it. As it turns out, it really is about volcano eruptions. Imagine that.

Interestingly enough, this person/entity/freak o'nature also has blogs devoted to these topics:
Asperger Syndrome and Definition, The Known Causes of Seizures, Big Brother 6, GREAT WHITE SHARK, Donald Trump Biography, Autism Spectrum Disorder, AUTISM SYMPTOMS, The Apprentice TV Show, Desperate Housewives TV Show, Canadian Football League, Volcano Eruptions. (I suspect that he/she/it is getting paid thru google ads, hence all the weird crap. But really, there is some pretty good stuff on the volcano page.)

I like how Canadian football is just sort of tossed in there. You know, since there ISN'T GOING TO BE ANY HOCKEY OR ANYTHING THIS YEAR. Not that I'm bitter....

Lucid dreaming

I'm not really for sure for sure what "lucid dreaming" is but I sort of understand that it's like, you're halfway awake and are aware of your surroundings as you dream. And I guess that that impacts what you dream about. Anyway, I wonder if what I do is lucid dream.

I often try to "control" my dreams in the morning when I'm just waking up. Like, something is going to happen and so I spend the 7 minutes between my alarm(s) going off trying to change the path of my dream. Whether this is lucid dreaming or not, I don't know.

But do other people do this? I mean, it's a concerted effort on my part. I'm awake but I purposefully go back to sleep to resolve whatever was going on. I don't mean ginormous important things like, save the world. Just change whatever I was doing into a result I would prefer.

Comment or I'll look like an idiot.

Okay, I stipulate that I look like an idiot anyways, but you know what I mean.

Uh

What does it mean when you discover that a page full of concealed handgun laws is bookmarked on the home computer?

A) Run
B) You're getting a gun for President's Day but you're not supposed to know so act surprised
C) __________(put your suggestions here)

*For the record, I was so distraught that I posted this like 3 times moving the apostrophe from "state's" to "states'" to "state's" again and then just left it out altogether. But it ought to be the handgun laws of several states.

RIP, old friend

The microwave has given out on us.

Considering I usually microwave breakfast and dinner, this is a substantial loss for me. Last night, it would count down the time but no heating power or turntable action was going on. A got it to heat his dinner after some well-placed knocks upside the figurative head. I was less fortunate. I only got about 3 seconds' worth of microwaving before it quit for good. I had to use the trusty toaster oven, which was actually better for my fries. It made them crispier (leftovers from Outback...I know, I don't want to hear the fallout).

But this morning I didn't know what to do. I had a bagel, heated in our $50 toaster (another story). Then I realized when I was about to make my lunch sandwich that the bread had molded (damn humidity). So I made a sandwich on a bagel. How many bagels can a girl eat in one day? Three, apparently. It looks like I'll be having a bagel for dinner as well if I don't come up with an alternate plan. No sandwich material that doesn't involve bagels. No milk for cereal. No microwave action. No stovetop food (ideally macaroni). No oven food except a pizza but we just ate pizza. I'm soooo helpless. I could use some fast food right about now.

Tutti Frutti

I don't remember who (maybe it was Frolics & Detours?) but someone Ms. Not Guilty told another blogger E. Spat., who was pondering new makeup, to buy the Tutti Dolci lip gloss. I know this all sounds very tenuous, but on the basis of my faulty memory, I bought some.

And it's awesome.

Don't be put off by the dark color of the Chocolate Fondue. It goes on very sheer, is overwhelmingly chocolately (in fact, so much so that I'm wishing I had gotten something lighter like Lemon Meringue), and has a nice sparkle to it. I also picked up another one but it's at home so I don't remember which flavor. Right now they're only $5 each at Bath & Body Works. Yay!

Right after I had put some on (sample), I went home. There, A had me stick my face in the bathtub in my full mask & snorkel getup. I complained, "But I just put lip gloss on!" to no avail. Let me say that the gloss doesn't pass the snorkel test, but under normal conditions, it does as well as any other. I fared about as well as the gloss on the snorkel test.

My lesson for the day: I can't laugh underwater no matter how freaking ridiculous it is that I'm leaning over the tub breathing through a snorkel with cats prowling around and A looking at me wearing his own funky getup because - surprise! - water gets in my mask and snorkel. So go forth and don't laugh underwater.

TP asks himself: If you had to live without either heating in your house or air conditioning, which one would you keep?

Because I'm sort of out of ideas for today, I'm going to steal from TP's Friday Five.

Hmm, which would I rather live without, AC or heat???

Considering I did live without AC for two years in my dorm in west Texas, I have to say that it is surprisingly easier than one might think. I'm not saying it was entirely enjoyable, but I didn't die on impact, like I thought I would.

The worst part about my dorm was that it was shaped like a capital E and we were in the middle wing. This meant we didn't get much airflow. We would open our windows on both sides of the hall and open our doors for the maximum amount of flow, which wasn't much. We also used 20-inch box fans. And yes, we mostly sat around without shirts on because it was so hot, although I never caught Bluto hopping around on a ladder peeking in on us.

Mr. McP's house wasn't much better. They had a swamp cooler (a ginormous box that cooled air taken from the water hose) that led into the main living area. It only cooled that room. The rest of the rooms were pretty hot.

As far as heat went, it got pretty cold in our area (my last year, I remember looking out in April and seeing snow). We had those steam heaters with the grates that clanged. It would get so hot we'd keep our windows cracked about an inch at all times, no matter how cold it was outside.

I guess that if I absolutely had to choose one or the other, it would depend on where I was living. High humidity = I want AC. Not high humidity = I can do without it. This means that I want AC where I am living right now and probably the next place we live in as well.

Nothing says lovin' like...sweaty 17-year-old guys in tight pants?

If you guessed Friday Night Lights on DVD, you'd be right! Yes, that bone-crunching expose of weirdos hard-core football fanatics in west Texas was what I got for Valentine's. We watched it last night. Lest you think Mr. McP is nuts, I also got two CDs, one claiming to be classic country but suffers from the defect of not actually playing the songs it says it has on it, the other being classic Dolly Parton. I love Dolly.

We also ate some chocolate bits from one of those heart boxes with the map inside. A is charged with eating all the pieces I don't like (anything with coconut or other flavored innards, caramel, toffee bits, or solid milk chocolate). I think he likes that part. I got him a book that I ordered the first week of December from Amazon and it just now got here. It has sentimental value.

For myself, I spent the last 2 dollars of an itunes giftcard and got El Paso (Marty Robbins) and I've Been Everywhere (Johnny Cash). I now have $0.15 left on the card, exactly enough to buy...nothing.

A just informed me that he decided to get contacts for our snorkeling adventure (he probably wouldn't have Lasik done before Hawaii). He said he also got me a pink mask (no purple). And that I have to try it out in a real live pool. Someplace. In my swimming suit. Terrific.

In other news...I'm going to bug out early today so I can pick up my glasses before traffic starts. I took my glasses to the store where I got them to begin with. Just to have new polycarb lenses put in (we're not talking extra fancy or anything) would be $170. I went to the place where I got my contacts and they are doing the same lenses for $80. They were something like $93 but they give a discount for my insurance provider, even though my insurance doesn't cover actual glasses, just the exam. Whatever, I don't care. Yay, cheap!

The Stinky Cheese Man*

Warning: This is a psuedo-Valentine's Day post. So if you are going to complain about Valentine's Day and you being lonely and hating people who are together, etc., go buy yourself some scotch and don't read this. Seriously. No complaints.

Disclaimer: I'm not a romantic person (maybe this should have been the first warning), so this won't be your construction paper hearts + flowers + meganormous teddy bears + candles, etc. kind of post. So if you're all into that and stuff, um, buy yourself some flowers and don't read this. Seriously. No complaints.

I love cheese. Really. Except smelly and/or runny cheese. Like Limbarger and Camembert.

I
A few years ago my maternal grandfather died. My maternal grandmother had passed away earlier in the year. I flew home and then rode with the rest of my family to the funeral, several hours and a state away. I had a short time schedule because I was working and I didn't have any "excused" absences left. I had three "personal"/excused days for the whole year and I had already used them plus two others to go to London. I was running out of days I could take before they fired me (I think the deal was that if we missed more than 2% of the workdays, which was 5 days a year, they could fire us...unions). Anyway, it was a stressful weekend.

A came to pick me up at the airport. When I got to the house, he asked me if I was hungry. I said yes (what kind of question is that?). He said he had made me macaroni and covered it with foil to keep it warm. He said that he thought if I had some macaroni I might feel better. The thing about macaroni is 1) cheese, naturally; and 2) I eat it like there's no tomorrow when I'm sad. I have a history of crying into my macaroni (all the way back to college) so the fact that he had made me macaroni was pretty special to me, no matter how lame it sounds.

II
A few nights ago, we got into a shouting match over whether I wanted to watch tv or something really dumb like that. The whole week had been pretty stressful week and I was getting home later and later each day and still having work to do. After the fight, I couldn't decide what to eat. He turned to me and said, I can make you a grilled cheese sandwich if you want. Really?! Sure! Well, my dad is like the king of grilled cheese sandwiches. [Fond, fond memories of my dad being in charge of feeding us, often on a Saturday afternoon, and his forte was grilled cheese sandwiches. We had ginormous skillets and he would make like 3 sandwiches at a time. White bread, of course. All of the kids would be sitting around the table, probably rotting our brains with cartoons and my dad would periodically walk over and plop down a steaming tower of grilled cheese sandwiches. We'd all try to grab the top one, being the freshest and hottest one. My dad would go back to the stove and make another pile. Ah, the old days.] Do you think you can do better than that? [looks at me like I'm pathetic] I can make a grilled cheese sandwich. It has to be in a skillet. I know that.

If I ever doubted whether he had been worth keeping or throwing back, I had my answer now. Thus ends my idea of a love story.

* I used to use this book as a litmus test as to whether or not a guy was a keeper. If he read it and laughed, he got a chance at dating me. If not, he wasn't worth it. After about the third guy who didn't get it, I just used cheese in general as my test. I was sort of running out of guys I would want to date.

See what I made?

For x-rated hearts, see THL. To make your own, click here.

A-B-C, easy as 1-2-3

Heh. I picked up my boxes of contacts at the vision place yesterday. First of all, let me just get my rant out of the way. I ordered 4 boxes, which is a six months' supply. I get there and there are only 3 boxes. It turns out the lady just put in the wrong number. So now I have 6 months of right eye and 3 months of left eye. Morons.

Anyway, I saw all these weird symbols and pictures on the box (and not just the Japanese that was translated below), so I went to the website (I have Acuvue 2 or however you spell it) and looked them up. As it turns out, I didn't have to worry about whether I was seeing the world inside-out or not because if you hold the contact up into the light, you'll see 1-2-3 if it's right side out. I have probably wasted 8 minutes of my life flipping my contacts one way and then another because I was afraid it was inside out. Also, my contacts have some UV protection, which is pretty cool. I'm still going to get cool sunglasses before Hawaii. And by cool, I just mean anything that's not prescription.

Oh Yeah!!!

Remember when you had to add like 1 cup of sugar to Kool-Aid? And remember how it said never to mix it in a metal pitcher? Why was that (the metal pitcher part, not the sugar; I know all too well about forgetting the sugar *shudder*)?

As seen at my cousin's place

Which Website are You?

I don't know what this means, but I do know that I am terrible at directions. But I probably do like to tell people where to go.

Fore!

Brian says, "[y]ou may not smoke cigars, but you might be able to make up for it if you play golf."

Whoa, I might be able to make up for it? That sounds like a challenge to me. E doesn't like challenges!!!


Photographic evidence of my total awesomeness (or, most likely, a disappointing shot). Now worship me!!!

"I can see clearly now, the rain has gone"*

It took me exactly 11 minutes this morning to go from "fuzzy" to "I'VE GOT SOMETHING IN MY EYE...oh, right, a contact."

That 11 minutes encompasses the handwashing, getting them out, trying to figure out whether they were inside out or not (honestly, it looks the same to me) and then poking my eye out. My left was actually good. I think only 1 or 2 misfires. The right was problematic again. It doesn't help that my right eye is smaller than my left. And of course, my left eye is smaller than normal people's. I'm at a severe disadvantage, folks.

Anyway, for the most part they're pretty nifty. They don't hurt or anything and for the most part I don't even know they're there. However, when I do notice them, it's freaky. Like, I get little moments of watery vision. Someone told me it was just gunk or something floating across and I never noticed it before because I didn't have something pushing on my eye. So the momentary "waterworld" part isn't cool. The other thing is, I still think they don't focus well for things like my computer screen or reading text. I don't know why that is. But if it hasn't resolved itself in a week, I'm going back to see Dr. Riggle.

Thanks for all those who were concerned that I wouldn't be able to hack it this morning. Court went good. My client was happy. My supervising attorney seemed pleased with my performance. I never found the gray skirt. Even worse, I can't find my black heels. This forced me into choosing between a navy suit or a brown suit. The brown suit had a big thread hanging out (I learned last time DON'T PULL THREADS AT COURT; BAD STUFF HAPPENS), so I choose the navy one.

Until tomorrow late afternoon or Saturday afternoon, expect light to no posting. I'm in the middle of writing a poison pen review, and have a lot of other stuff to do. And we've got this reunion kind of thing this weekend.

* Every time I think that, I think of Kyle from South Park sitting on the toilet. Just thought I'd share that with y'all.

First Contact*

Uh, so I am living my third hour of spectacle-free life. And so far it is very strange.

I can see far away, no problem, but when I am looking at close stuff like my computer screen, I feel that I go cross-eyed or something. I guess this just takes some getting used to???

Anyway, Rob Riggle, my optometrist, popped 'em right in and sent me next door to watch a video on not sticking your finger in your eye without washing it first. Then, the test. I got them out fine. I just couldn't put them back in. Seriously, being Asian has its drawbacks. 1) Everyone expects you to be smart and stuff. 2) You have little eyes.

So after feeling like a complete moron, I managed to get both in. This is going to be fun tomorrow morning. I'm also going to court tomorrow afternoon, so maybe I ought to just skip the contacts silliness in the morning until I'm better at it.

Driving away without glasses was...strange. I was going to say "liberating" but only because I felt like I was breaking the law (not driving with my "corrective lenses"), not because I felt "free" from the shackles of my plastic frames or anything.

*Star Trek fans will get this. All others suck. Unless you are my mom, in which case, you rule.

I'll have the Sprockets, please

While I know that many of you out there marvel at my talent to persuade Mr. McP into letting me get things like, um, a Mustang, etc., please note that I don't have the reverse of this power, i.e., I can't make him not do certain things.

Like take me to a German restaurant.

Now, I like guys in shorts with knee socks as much as the next girl but I've been to a German restaurant (on the way to Olympic National Park in Washington) and I didn't like it. As I recall, we all had a various _____wurst and side dishes, while A's uncle harrumphed about having to stop for restaurant food rather than eating gas station sandwiches.

We had seen this German restaurant on the way to some a new sushi place last week (which I give a middling review, partially because they brought out the appetizers after the main dishes even though we specifically requested that they come out first, partially because of the number of small, crying children and the number of creepy children who kept staring at me and their parents who don't teach their kids any manners, and also because I ran into this person from my summer internship who always acted like they completely hated my presence). I knew I was fated to eat at the restaurant, so I figured better sooner than later.

Right when we're about to leave, Charlotte calls and says they're going out to some place and we're welcome to join them. "Unfortunately, I'm going to some German restaurant, so I can't go." Silence. "Do you mean __________?" "Um, yeah. Is there some reason we shouldn't go? Tell me now so I can try to avoid this trip!" "Uh...no, it's fine. I mean, I won't go there, but I'm sure it will be fine." She giggles and hangs up. Never a good sign.

We go. It's a tiny place so it fills up fast. The "host" is a sort of disgruntled non-German man who makes me wonder if this place is actually a front for, say, cabbage smuggling. There's an accordion player, which is really the only highlight for me. I love accordions. I love concertinas. Heck, I even love castanets. I keep telling A that I want accordion lessons and he says it'll just hurt my hands. He also said the same thing about cello lessons. When I begged for voice lessons, he had to agree that probably it wouldn't hurt my hands. Ha!

So anyway, I get some kind of meat dish because it promised "gravy." Gravy = good. This gravy = not good. It was basically like roast beef slices with a weird bbq-flavored gravy/sauce over it, weird crumpled potato or pasta side bits (I said they were potatoes, A said they were pasta), and a heapin' pile o' cabbage.

Do you know what beef wellington is? Well, A sort of had the sausage equivalent of it. It was a sausage rolled up into a baked crust, except there were also pickles and stuff inside it. Weird. He said it was good. He also got a gravy (not bbq-flavored) and same side dishes as me. Then again, he also got the Warsteiner, so make of that what you will.

For dessert he had the apfelstreudel and I had some ginormous chocolate cake slice.

He wants to go back. I said great, tell me how it goes. Ain't no way* I'm going back there. I don't jive with cabbage, baked pickles, and/or fake gravy.

*I can talk big all I want on the blog, but I would put money on the fact that I will have to return at some future point.

And as a vaguely related side note, I really want lessons in rope tricks. You know, the kind where you hop in and out of a lasso and stuff. I have been obsessed with them for years and figure that it can't be too expensive (as opposed to accordions, which, even used, cost a few thousand dollars). Also, I can't juggle, ride a unicycle (we used to have one in college), blow smoke rings, say the alphabet backwards, or other assorted party tricks, so I need something to impress people with.

Inconceivable!

I spent at least 1.5 hours yesterday looking for the gray skirt that matches my gray jacket. The last time I remember wearing it was to finalize a divorce in December. The jacket was hanging in the closet, just like it should have been. But where was the skirt?

I never found it. I had to compromise and wear a gray jacket with black pants (let the criticism begin). This really disturbs me, though. Where would I have taken off the skirt and left it? I looked in all the closets, in bags, drawers, underneath piles of junk. I even looked in the coat closet (which is more of an "assorted vaccuum cleaner parts" and a few handbags closet). Nowhere. My last hope was that it was hanging in my office, mistakenly paired with the black jacket.

I got to the office a couple of hours ago (court this morning, and I managed to restrain myself from shouting, "I strenously object!" although I had the urge to do so more than once) and looked in my closet. Nope. Just a black suit, some extra black socks (???), shoes, two pairs of emergency stockings, a sweater and a pair of gray pants. Yeah, I know, I don't use a lot of color. If I was a guy, I could just wear a colorful tie and get away with it. Look, I'm trying. See, I tried to wear a gray suit today instead of black. And I did wear a blue shirt.

I also saw Male Mentor when I was leaving the courthouse and he was walking in. He even remembered my name, which was nice. We didn't have time to chit-chat, though, and I think it would have been awkward anyway.

(imaginary awkward conversation)

Hello, E.
Hello, Male Mentor.
So, uh...what have you been doing since my firm decided not to make an offer?
Well, I've had to move into a cardboard box due to the crushing debt of two private schools and am now being represented by Legal Aid. In fact, that's why I'm here now. I'm declaring personal bankruptcy.
Gee, E., that's too bad.
Yeah. Um, is this as awkward for you as it is for me?
Undoubtedly so.
Well then...
Yes, good to see you again. You take care of that cardboard box. I heard it might rain more this week.
Thanks, will do. Tell your kids hi for me.

(/imaginary awkward conversation)

Of course the conversation wouldn't have been like that at all. Male Mentor was a decent guy. I think he was just disappointed in me as his mentee because I didn't smoke cigars.

Because I dare not disregard the most Ambivalent of Imbroglios...

I present, E. takes a holiday. Just click the linky-link and a new window will pop up. Wait a second and my magical work of art will begin drawing itself.

This day in history

One year ago today:

• LJ [Law journal] board application due at 12 noon.
• Karoake, APALSA 8-11.

One year later

• I am the worst associate editor ever on law journal.
• I have not karoaked since, but have put in a request with the current APALSA board to have another such event. I think everyone tried to pretend like they didn't hear me.

Ever woke yourself up by saying, "I strenuously object!"?

Yeah, me neither.

Geez. What kind of dork do you think I am?









Of course, just because I woke myself up this morning with, "Objection! Argumentative" means nothing.*

*Hey, there's a hearing tomorrow. I have an excuse.**

**Of course, when I woke myself up, I was actually objecting to my own co-counsel. Not so good. Must work on that.

One time, at band camp

All right...you* asked for it.

I want reader participation or I will let my trusty sidekick-cousin The Hot Librarian pick an evil Esmerelda-like punishment for you for NOT participating. And you know that Esmerelda means business.

I want ALL of you who were in band to confess it. Either in my comments or on your own blog (tracky track back to me or let me know in the comments) and tell me about your experience(s). How/why did you get into band? What instrument did you play? Did you like it? Did you make out on the bus on "away" games trips? Did you wish you had just done the yearbook instead?**

I already know who SEVERAL of you are. If you ever told me you were in band, I remember. I have a memory like an elephant. Ex Mea Sententia can vouch for it. So 'fess up or I'll do it for you.

Carry on.

*Not really. Absolutely nobody asked for it.
**If you say Yes, then I will punch you out when I see/meet/stalk & find you. Don't say you weren't warned.

And if you were wondering, Mr. McP did go to band camp. Six times! Heh heh heh heh hehehehehehehehehehehe (that's supposed to be a sort of Beavis & Butthead laugh)

Skeleton Crew

I did a little research and feel that I can resume my soundtracking powers without fear of becoming boneless. Apparently, Peter did wish to have a theme song (not quite the same thing I am proposing) and also wished to have no bones. I am not wishing anything like that. Therefore, I'm good to go.
Now that I've got that problem solved, I just have to figure out a place online where I can store my clips so you all can hear what my day would sound like.

Anybody know anything about what I'm talking about?

"Lifestyle" choices of the rich

I used to work at the equivalent of a PR department (usually called Advancement or Alumni Relations or something similar) of a university and one of our outreach programs was called something like Partners in Excellence. I don't recall exactly how it worked but it was something like corporate sponsors or moneyed individuals would recruit for the university or something. I don't really recall since it was mainly dealing with community relations and I was more on the alumni relations side.

Anyway, I remember hearing Mrs. Boss (we were required to call her Mrs. [Last name], even though of course we all called her [First name] behind her back) griping that some well-heeled sponsor we really wanted had made a complaint that the program title "Partners in Excellence" sounded gay. We had already printed out a ton of brochures and sent them out. Mrs. Boss made the executive decision to let that person just stew or whatever.

What brought this back to my mind was the whole SpongeBob SquarePants brouhaha. Is he gay? Is the starfish his "partner?" Is Tinky-Winky carrying a woman purse or a man purse or a European carry-all? WHO CARES?! REALLY! This is starting to hurt me.

Giddyup

I noticed that I have 50 gmail invites left (as if I have some sort of goal I'm trying to achieve).

50? You're freakin' kidding me. I feel like it's the old fundraiser days where you had to sell 20 million candy bars or other assorted crap no one wanted to go to, say, Graceland. And then onto the Opryland theme park where you do the flying-thru-the-sky ride (sort of like bungee jumping, except you're in a body harness and they pull you way the heck back and then let you go so you swing in a nice pendulum motion...and you stop the way an F-14 stops, by yanking your arm out of a socket while trying to catch the hook. Who me? Bitter about being the one who had to catch the hook? Never.)

Furthermore, I don't have 50 friends. Gmail, that's just reeeeeediculous.

Westlaw points

Westlaw is now allowing you to donate your points to the tsunami relief efforts.

Genius!

I (finally) figured out trackback. Of course, I messed it up like three times not understanding that I was supposed to copy the trackback URL to ping (whatever that means). But I have accomplished my first track'em back.

I are smart!

Bikini Blogging (alt. titled, Don't try this at home)

Okay...more like "tankini blogging."

My swimsuit and flip-flops (yes, flip-flops through the mail) came today. Let me just say that it is a humbling experience to be in a bathing suit after nearly 10 years of not going into the water.

I think/hope that I am the first/last to blog in my swimming apparel. Oh wait...didn't the Hot Librarian do that once? Anyhoo, I can assure you that her rendition of bikini-blogging is hotter than me actually doing it.

Yes, I really am blogging in my swimsuit.

That's hot.*

*Oh, and I forgot to tell TP this, but I meant "That's hot" in a Paris Hilton kind of way as opposed to the Jenna Jameson type of way.

Juicy

It's an adjective.

It's the name of some brand of clothing.

It shouldn't ever be used to describe weather conditions. "It's juicy outside" is never acceptable to my ears. As much as I hate "sweater weather," being juicy outside has now become my most-hated inane weather line. Ever.

Carry on.

I'm an embarrassment to myself

You speak eloquently and have seemingly read every book ever published. You are a fountain of endless (sometimes useless) knowledge, and never fail to impress at a party.What people love: You can answer almost any question people ask, and have thus been nicknamed Jeeves.What people hate: You constantly correct their grammar and insult their paperbacks.

What Kind of Elitist Are You? brought to you by Brian's Frazzled Mind!

I object! I do NOT hate paperbacks. I correct spelling but am horrible at grammar myself. Plus, I like to read books with pictures on the cover.

Quick, to the McPan Cave!

Okay. If I could have a "power" (note that I didn't use superpower), it would be the ability to have an out-loud soundtrack controlled by me. You know, to chart my life. So, like, I could add sound effects and stuff. Basically, I'd be a living cartoon or something.

I've thought about those other things like reading people's minds or being invisible or being able to fly, etc. and have decided that mostly, those things would just lead to other problems. At least being able to soundtrack (what I'm calling my power) would be entertaining.

It wouldn't just be songs. It would be noises. Like that Law & Order sound. Or Dragnet-type bits. Screeching-tires noises (actually, I already use it a lot in real life, which seems to disturb people around me when I start going Errrrrrrrrrrr!).

See how useful it is? Try it! You'll love it.













All right...this is really an excuse not to look weird when I'm jamming to Barry White sampled over the Beastie Boys in my head.