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May 31, 2003
over and out
I'm sitting in my apartment on the floor. finals are over. i. is here, and i am giving him my mp3s (only partially illegally--he owns most of the cds, they are just too scratched to play.) i finished my last exam at 12:30. i went to chipotle for one last burrito. i got stuck in one last cubs game related traffic jam. i dropped off my cable box. i finished packing most of my stuff.
and now i'm ready to fly to new york tomorrow, to start living there, with c., which is where i really want to be.
but first, i've got to party.
i really miss my friends already. that's all i'm going to say, because i don't feel like being too sappy and, frankly, i get to see them again in two weeks when i fly in for graduation.
but i'll miss each and every one of you. even t2, who is moving back to new york in a couple months anyway.
thanks. it was great. you made hyde park bareable, and law school fun. but sorry, i wouldn't do it again if you paid me.
Posted by me at 08:02 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
final.
i am writing my last law school exam EVER!
yes!
oh, the exam sucks--both the questions and my answers. but it will over in 7 hours or so, and then i'm going to get wasted at my last law school party EVER!
Posted by me at 09:26 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 30, 2003
friendship insurance
you know you're loved when you receive drunken text messages from your friends about what bad friends they are, and how you're so great.
you know you're lame when all your friends are out at karaoke sending you drunken text messages and you are laying on your aerobed in your empty apartment reading about what rule of interpretation courts use on ambiguous insurance policy provisions.
Posted by me at 08:21 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 28, 2003
still the spawn of satan
but for different reasons.
so i show up to my eight hours of barbri hell this morning (usually 4 hours, but we're making up for lost days) to get my books and my ID, and a balance sheet that says i still haven't paid (sigh). then i get to sit through 8 hours of hell that i still haven't paid for.
4 hours of domestic relations, 4 hours of criminal law. and those are probably the two most exciting subjects. rapture. it's all down hill from there.
now i'm stuck at the library studying for my last exam on saturday, which i get to take after three straight days of 8 hour barbri. grrrrrreat! needless to say, i am NOT FUN TO BE AROUND RIGHT NOW.
oh well, at least i'll build up big muscles lugging these 9 (yes, NINE) heavy ass barbri books around manhattan over the summer. i won't even need to go to the gym, what with the half mile hallway from hell twice a day (the transfer hall between the L at 14th and 6th and the 1,2,3. good acoustics for the subway musicians, at least...)
Posted by me at 08:16 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 25, 2003
i can't believe i'm saying this, but...
...if I don't get more Paul Frank underwear soon, my life from this point forward will be remarkably unsatisfying.
Posted by me at 11:21 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
T2 is a Were-Guppy
When there's a full moon he has to put his head in a bucket of water to breathe.
Gurgle.
(as an aside, when I originally wrote the above, it contained around 10 grammatical and spelling errors, and one missing word. For two short sentences, that sure is a lot of errors. Perhaps this is what happens when you spend 10 hours trying to install a mac formatted iPod on a PC, combined with half-assedly studying for Privacy Law. Hmmm. Sure hope I don't have the same error rate in my exam tomorrow.)
Posted by me at 07:15 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 24, 2003
The OTHERS!
Well shit. Why didn't I go get my doctorate in Anthropology? (ok, we all know why. Shhhh...) I mean, wow, talk about a doctoral thesis! Otherkin.net. These people are just begging for someone to write an ethnography on them. (Or a psychological work up, but that's not my field...)
Posted by me at 09:05 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
i'm supposed to be excited
but really, I'm not. I guess C's sister's fiancee's bestfriend (mouthful?) just graduated from law school. It was on his blog. I read her entry on her blog--she sounded quite excited, even BEFORE she graduated, so it wasn't just "yeah, in hindsight, this wasn't so bad."
I am just not excited, and I should be. It's quite an accomplishment. Believe it or not, in the last three years I've done more work than I did in the 22 previous years. I floated through everything up until law school, and then, wham, along came law school to kick me in the ass. But I did it. And I'm glad I did it. And I've learned a lot, and I've met good people (and some not so good people, so I know what to look out for in the future), and I have a good job waiting for me.
But, I'm not excited...
...Ok, so maybe now I'm a little excited. I've changed my own mind.
One final down, three to go.
Oh, and let's all pray that my Dad buys me a new car (spoiled brat...). This is quite possible. First, he likes to buy me expensive presents because I am his little princess (ha ha.) Second, he's extremely worried about my 9 yearold Honda which I insist on taking to Brooklyn. He doesn't like to worry about me. I'm his princess, and I'm fragile. So let's keep our fingers crossed. And actually, I don't even WANT a new car--I'll take his two year old Acura. He's been talking about getting rid of it. Leather seats, baby. Manual AND automatic.
Posted by me at 03:30 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 23, 2003
T2
Well, I got rid of all my extra stuff--L. is taking the microwave, T1 the bedframe, and T3 the chair.
T2 just showed up to the library a little tipsy (end of year bbq at school). He did that last year and almost got his head crushed in the compact shelving (electronic mechanical moving bookshelves, basically. they're supposed to have safety features to prevent this from happening. but, as most of us know, they drunk are inventive and find ways to make supposedly safe things very, very dangerous.) in the basement. He only had 3 beers, so I don't think it will happen again this year. Darn.
S. is so bored she's braiding her hair instead of studying. I. bought me headphones for a graduation present (yay!).
This is a waste of time, isn't it? Yes, yes it is.
So back to the stunning (at times dareisay breathtaking!) details of OSHA...
Posted by me at 06:20 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
moving
the movers are coming! hopefully. i'm waiting for them. they are now officially 5 minutes late--they were supposed to come between 8 and 9, and it's now 9:05. i need to learn that when someone says they're coming between 8 and 9, what they really mean is that they are coming AFTER 9. i'd get a lot more sleep that way.
yawn.
it'll be nice when this is over. then i can stop worrying about packing, whether they'll lose my stuff, etc, and start worrying about whether i'm going to fail my labor and employment law exam.
according to a voicemail i received yesterday while i was being BORED TO TEARS IN MY LAST LAW SCHOOL CLASS EVER, my driver's name is "Keith." well keith, where the hell are you? i have important matters to attend to, like napping in the library.
UPDATE: The movers are LOST! Yay! They just called. They're on 75th and Stony Island. Grrrrrreat. That's a bit too far south, to say the least. Hmmph. Haven't they ever heard of Mapquest?
UPDATE 2: My apartment is almost empty. All that's left is some clothes, an aerobed, a trunk, the chair that C. won't let me bring to brooklyn for no good reason i can discern, and my microwave.
These mover service professionals were NOT impressed by brooklyn. they wanted to know why i'd "want to move there?" it was refreshing.
Posted by me at 09:08 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 21, 2003
kaboom
The dangers of attending a top 10 law school: Salon.com News | Bomb damages Yale Law School classroom
Thank god I'm getting out.
Actually, the administration would probably be glad if our building was bombed (in the middle of the night without anyone in it, mind you! don't call the fbi, i'm not advocating anything), because it's so freaking ugly and needs to be rebuilt.
Posted by me at 09:34 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
May 20, 2003
unbelievable
i am unbelievably tired of school, of studying, of chicago, of my apartment, of the weather, of the gym, of long distance calls. i am unbelievably not ready to graduate, either, and yet, i'm unbelievably ready to get the fuck out of dodge.
i am unbelievably ready to wake up everyday with you. i am unbelievably certain that you'll surprise me everyday. i am unbelievably certain that i couldn't love you more--but i'd be wrong, because i love you more everyday.
i am unbelievably sappy.
it's all your fucking fault.
i'm unbelievably ready to give it all (apparently, even my dignity. ha.) to you.
and i believe you'd take it and like it ALL (even the undignified parts)--that's some of why i love you.
(anyone who makes a reference to that horrible "you're unbelievable" song by EMF which haunts everyone of my generation every third time we hear the word "unbelievable" will be shot.)
Posted by me at 09:50 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 19, 2003
almost famous
apparently my blog url has been leaked.
hi Tom.
in other news, C. is starring in a 2-minute commercial for a New School film class project. so she's famous, too.
Posted by me at 09:51 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 18, 2003
good morning stevie
Um. I don't even know what to say about this, except "I will be delighted to draw you or your loved one with Stevie or with any other celebrity." Check it out. Found on Dave Barry's Blog. My favorite by far is "Jon and Stevie" (scroll about a third of the way down.) And be sure to stop by look the Tambourines page, too. Scroll all the way to the bottom. Poor kid.
Posted by me at 10:03 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 17, 2003
say it together now:
the Matrix Reloaded SUCKS DICK.
Besides that, I'm still puzzling over what's up with all the new sitcoms and commercials (new one today with a woman washing dishes and her fat ass slobby ugly husband running outside to mow the lawn to avoid doing the dishes, too. it was for, surprise!, dish soap.) involving white yuppies in their thirties where the woman is thin and extremely attractive and the man is, without exception, overweight, UGLY (no, not cute and chubby, just ugly), unkempt, and even greasy. a fat ugly adman's dream? does this sell things? is it funny in the sitcom context? what gives?
Chicago has been quite foggy lately.
And, while I'm doing pictures, here's the picture of the Field of Dreams sign, as promised.
Posted by me at 11:26 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
for the love of christ
what the fuck was i thinking?
oooooooh i'm hungover.
ever since my mother converted to catholicism (or, as i've taken to telling it "became a papist". She likes that joke.) every little thing about the catholic church reminds me of her. so scrolling on MSNBC is the note that the pope has parkinson's, and my first though is "i wonder if my mom is really upset about this." but, of course, since she's so sweet and nice in general, she would be upset with or without her nascent catholocism.
why, you ask, was i watching MSNBC? because the box guy came to deliver my boxes for my move, and I didn't want him to know I was watching some show on the discovery health channel about fat women. i know, i'm a loser--both for watching the fat women show and for changing the channel as if the box guy cares what i'm watching, or as if I should care if the box guy cares what i'm watching.
so, i have boxes. lots and lots of boxes. enough boxes to pack an apartment 3 times as big as my little studio. i wonder if i can sell the surplus, or if they'll count when they come to move the boxes into the truck.
like many service personnel i've run into lately in preparing for this move, the box guy is fascinated that i'm moving to new york, and even MORE excited that i'm moving to brooklyn.
box guy: "oh, you're moving to new york!"
me: "yeah." (remember, i'm hungover and did not want to get up at 7:30 to wait for the box guy. i'm not just being rude for fun.)
box guy: "wow, brooklyn!"
me: "yup."
box guy: "that's great."
me: "um, yeah, can't wait."
box guy: "wow."
me: "yeah."
at this point i could have asked him if he's from new york, or if he as family in brooklyn, or if he's always wanted to live there, etc etc. but, i know from having almost the exact same conversation with at least 5 people when changing addresses or cancelling various utitlites, that he isn't, he doesn't, and no, but he'd like to visit and maybe go see "the lion king."
wow, brooklyn.
Posted by me at 09:42 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 15, 2003
blogmatcher
So I did this Blog Matcher thing. It matches your blog with blogs that have similar links (I think. It might do some other stuff. Anyway, it matches whatever blog you put in with "similar" blogs). Almost all the blogs that come up are Canadian.
Hmmm.
Now, I'm not from Canada. I grew up in Detroit, across the river from Ontario, and I watched "Hockey Night in Canada" on CBC when the Red Wings were on like every other good Detroit kid, but Canadian I'm not (actually, that's not entirely correct. My great-great grandparents, were from Quebec). I don't reference Canada in my blog (unless I've made that "I'm moving to Canada" joke, which I'm prone to do whenever I see any American politician on Fox News). My server is in LA. So I just don't know. But, anyway, it's kind of cool.
Posted by me at 09:24 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
tired. bored. bumbling. fumbling. mistaken. sleepy. unmotivated. shit.
well there is officially one week of class left. and i am officially all the things in the title to this entry. i have to get studying and packing and about a billion other things, but i don't want to do any of it. in fact, there's NOTHING i want to do (i.e. i don't watch tv instead of studying. i don't want to watch tv either. i don't know what the fuck i want to do.)
today a biker almost hit me while i was running. he screamed at me when it was his fucking fault. so that's how my morning began. on top of that, i have a blister and i ate a really big cookie i shouldn't have eaten.
i know, i know. none of this sounds like a real problem, but it's all bothering me. i feel depressed (and, judging from the lake of motivation and constant tiredness, i probably really AM depressed.). but i don't have TIME to be depressed right now. i have work to do.
grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Anyway (and that "anyway" word should signal to you that I'm about to jump to something totally unrelated), I'm not sure if I've ever linked to this. If i haven't, I apologize for not doing it earlier. I love this entry, and I love The Real Live Preacher. Ok, so sometimes what he writes is kind of hokey or overly dramatic, but I'm pretty sure he recognizes that, so it's ok. And it's nice to see some straight pastor guy from Texas tell all the evangelicals to sit the fuck down and stop judging us homosexuals. Yay!
Posted by me at 06:44 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 13, 2003
There.
I haven't written anything of substance in awhile. I've been feeling out of sorts.
There are some songs that give me chills, each and every time I hear them.
There are sunset sky blues that make me wonder about falling on the non-Agnostic side of my shaky Agnosticism.
There are hot summer morning 30 minute runs that make me feel sweaty and alive.
There are friends who show me daily that I underestimate people, that people are more accepting than I think they'll be--at least the people who are worth spending time with.
And there are nights when I feel entirely alone, nights where my thoughts are in crazy spirals. And all of the above makes those nights okay.
I'm tired of school. I miss C. I don't want to take finals. Two and a half more weeks!
Posted by me at 07:08 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Limited Time Only
eBay item
2928236536
(Ends
May-16-03 16:40:23 PDT
) -
BEAUTIFUL 19" BRIDE SOCK MONKEY
You know you want it. Only 20 bucks! What a steal.
Posted by me at 11:34 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
May 10, 2003
one more year
Yes! I still have time! Break out cartoons and Hostess products, because I haven't grown up yet. Reuters Health Information (2003-05-09): Are we grown up yet? U.S. study says not 'til 26. I really should go talk to a therapist, huh?
C. is here, asleep. She's got creases from the pillow in her face. It's only 9:30 but it's already hot in the apartment. She's cocooned in the comforter anyway. Last night we went to sushi, and saw "A Mighty Wind." I managed to splash soy sauce all over my shirt. She thinks this kind of thing is cute, which is why we work well together. She goes home tomorrow, which is sad. But I move in about three weeks, which is happy. It all balances out.
And, speaking of years, we've almost been dating a whole year. Weird. Seriously. I get so excited everytime I see/think about/talk to her that it feels like we've been dating a couple weeks. It will be good to be back together on a fulltime basis like we were last summer. Fortunately, unlike last summer, I won't be leaving at the end of it. We have an address and guinea pigs together. What more could a girl ask for?
Posted by me at 09:31 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 08, 2003
i go straight for the ads. really, i do.
I mysteriously received this link in my e-mail today. (ok, so not so mysteriously, considering my earlier rant about Williamsburg). Anyway, I link specifically to Page 1 of the site, which is a Time Out New York Parody (Time Out is this horribly pretentious weekly magazine for rich, white, twenty-something Manhattanites and presumably Londoners, for the London version. A couple months ago they had a cover story on why people in Manhattan were skinny, and people in the other burroughs and the rest of the nation were fat asses. Little consideration was paid to wealth and free time; much was paid to the unsophistication and generally slobbiness of anyone who doesn't live in Manhattan. It was classy.)
I believe the New York Times Sunday commercials are airing nationwide, right? Anyway, every time that commercial comes on, C. and I simultaneously break into "I go straight for the J&R ads!" and "I like the back page of Sunday Styles! I can catch up on all the society weddings!" So this is funny, because apparently the joke has occurred to someone else, only using the Post (the NY Post is a "newspaper" for the illiterate and those who think that the Enquirer tells the truth. It also has crossword puzzles that my dog could do. And it uses the word "perv" liberally. And thug. You get the idea.)
In a related bit of trivia, C. refuses to go to bed until she does the Wonderword in the Post. We can just be getting in at 3am, drunk, having to get up for work the next day at 7, and she'll sit there and do wonderword. Oh yeah, you can't have her, she's allllll mine!
Posted by me at 12:58 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 07, 2003
for Max
Max (aka C.):
Thank you for putting up with me these past few weeks (and pre-thank you for putting up with me for the next 2 and a half months, as I study for the bar and further flip out). Thank you for being understanding, and talking me down. Thank you for being quiet and knowing when to just let me rage on. And on. And on. Thank you for letting me get it out of my system. Thank you for doing everything you can to make this less stressful. Thank you for supporting me and not dismissing my crazy rants, my fits of rage at barbri, or my uneccessary tears.
And thank you for being so beautiful, sweet, caring, thoughtful, smart, funny and mine. All mine.
I'm the luckiest person I know.
I'll be home soon!
Love,
J.
Posted by me at 01:30 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
May 06, 2003
why god, WHY?
A Slate columnist tries to answer the question that has been on all of our minds: why the HELL did AT&T hire Carrot Top?
Better Dead Than Red - Those awful AT&T ads starring Carrot Top. By Rob Walker
You know you want to know. You don't like Carrot Top. You know no one who likes Carrot Top. Even if you and your friends are all intellectual snobs who only listen to bands off of Matador Records, you can't imagine that even the unwashed masses like Carrot Top. So why the fuck does AT&T keep coming out with commercials with Carrot Top in a starring role?
Posted by me at 09:47 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 05, 2003
fat cats
This is great. Don't be intimidated by the word "patent": you'll understand the application. Found on Dave Barry's Blog
Posted by me at 09:48 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
well
It's been an exciting couple of days. Went to the farm in Iowa where the "Field of Dreams" was filmed (a friend really wanted to go). Pictures are forthcoming. Got home and went to a bar, got too drunk and ended up with a major hangover. Then I went to the library. Yeah, REALLY exciting.
Wow I'm tired, and this entry is pointless.
Later.
Posted by me at 12:26 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 02, 2003
thoughts on the gym
Today, I went to the gym, hence the title. I go to the gym most days, so this isn't like the start of a really late new year's resolution or anything. And you'll notice I don't usually write about the gym.
Today, however, I must write about the gym.
First, I ran 20 minutes on the treadmill. Then I got on this "Natural Runner" machine, which is, quite frankly, much harder to do than "Real Running." Seriously, this machine is a killer, and I'm moderately in shape. Ok, so the guy next to me on the other Natural Runner just REEKS of pot. Now, in my 25 years, I've smoked pot maybe ten times, so I do recognize the smell. I also have a few friends who've made it their ambitious goal to get through law school by smoking enough pot as possible, so I run into the aroma of pot smoke maybe a couple times a week. The point? I am NOT mistaking this smell for body odor. It was pot. Lots and lots of pot.
So, here are my questions: First, did this guy smoke pot minutes before coming to the gym? That seems unlikely. As noted, that machine is hard, and he was moving at a pretty good clip. Pot and "moving" are not compatible. Second, did he smoke pot in those clothes days ago and then wear them to the gym? That's just gross. Third, is it possible to smoke so much pot that it oozes from your pores, like garlic?
So then I get on the elliptical machine, which is like the Natural Runner machine only 800 times easier, no matter what resistance you put it on. (Yes, three machines so far. I only spend like 20 minutes on each. I have a short attention span). I immediately wished I'd stayed on the Natural Runner with pot boy. I got stuck next to some old guy who smelled like he hadn't showered since 1950. Here's the problem: he'd probably showered just that morning, but old people refuse to wear deodarant. It's like there was some sort of war propaganda in the 40s: use iodized salt, don't wear deodarant, save electricity or Hitler will get you!!! I've notice this in my grandpa, my great uncle, and several old guys at the gym. They just don't use it. And it's horrible.
That's all.
Posted by me at 12:33 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 01, 2003
homies
Another glimpse into my bizarre interests:
I love Homies. I can't pass one of the vending machines without feeling the urge to buy one.
Anyway, here's a New York Times article on them. Gotta register to see it.
Two-Inch Latino Role Models, for Good or Ill I can see both sides of the issue. I don't really think about the stereotypes. I just think they're cute. Not very deep, I know. Give me a break--I spend all day reading Supreme Court cases, I need to give my brain a rest.
Posted by me at 04:22 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack