Things That Make Me Crazy - Part 3

So I've been out of touch for a while.  Whoops.  Just because I wasn't blogging doesn't mean stuff wasn't driving me batcrap crazy though.  So -

Hey, world?  Stop calling things cake that aren’t edible.  This is a weird trend that I don't understand.  Diaper cake?  Not a cake.  It’s a stack of rolled up diapers and ribbon.  It’s cute and all, but it’s not delicious – in fact, it’s pretty much the opposite.  Call it a diaper tower, or a diaper Taj Mahal, or whatever, but it's not a cake.  Dishtowel cake?  (I’m looking at you, craft nuts on Pinterest.)  Not a cake.  The towels can be used in the process of making a cake, but they themselves are not cake.  Therefore, there is no such thing as a towel cake.  These aren’t things – stop trying to make them be things.  If somebody showed up at my baby shower or wedding shower or whatever with a cake made out of anything other than sugary confectionary goodness, your ass is getting kicked out until you bring me the real thing.  And a real present.

Hey, Facebook?  Let’s work on completing our thoughts.  I’ve noticed a lot of posts recently about your feelings.  Well, no, not your feelings particularly, just feelings in general.  You start out with “That feeling when . . . .” and then go on to describe an awkward or uncomfortable situation, without providing any more information.  So . . . what about it?  What about this feeling?  Did you have this experience?  Did you enjoy it?  Did you dislike it? Why did you feel the need to tell me about it??!!  What did we accomplish?  Just stoppit.   My issues with your use of cryptic song lyrics that are meant to be deep reflections of your feelings, but instead just wind up making me judge your taste in music and remove you from my newsfeed, are issues for another blog another day.  And don’t even get me started on how little I care when you constantly post status updates about your many trips to the grocery store and what you ate for lunch.

Hey, Pinterest?  We have a fairly new relationship, but already, I’m seeing some red flags.  You see, I hate stupid people . . . and you manage to expose me to way more stupid people than I’m comfortable with.  You provide me with a lot of cute and enjoyable things I would like to share – but when the pin itself has misspelled words or poor grammar, I not only refuse to pass it along, but I get angry at you for propagating moronic behavior.  Get somebody monitoring that junk, and probably I'll pin even more things.  Because I don't pin enough as it is . . . even though I'm still not 100% certain as to your actual purpose.

Hey, Dallas Cowboys?  Don’t look at me like that.  You know what you’ve done.

Sarcasmo.

An Impassioned Plea to Men Everywhere

Dear Menfolk:

I don’t get it. 

I don’t care if you’re a regular Joe, a football player, a politician, or a stripper – a gentleman’s genitalia is not attractive.  

So what the hell makes you think we want to, A) see it, or B) do anything with it just because you showed it to us?

I realize that most of the species in the animal kingdom pick up ladies by utilizing their impressive physical features and sexy mating squawks, but I was under the impression that we homo sapiens had become more evolved.  Sure, physical characteristics are important to us ladies to some degree, but there are better ways of catching our attention than wagging your winkie at us.  Sure, some muscles might be nice, or good hair - but how about we try dressing well, being intelligent, having good manners?  None of these things, which I’m willing to bet would interest most women, involve nudity.  A nice smile will catch my attention quicker than your crotch.  

In fact, on that note, I would like to issue a challenge.  I would be willing to bet serious money (ok, I’d bet someone else’s money, since I’m unemployed with a large amount of debt, but you get the idea) that no woman in her right mind would tell you she agreed to marry you, date you, even let you buy her a drink, all because you  just up and showed her your special parts and she liked what she saw.  Committing the crime of indecent exposure isn’t a good way to pick up chicks.  It’s also not a good way of keeping one once you catch her – I’m sure you can do some special tricks with it, and that’s great and we’re happy you can, but we still don’t need to look at it.  Not on Twitter, not in an e-mail, not on our phones, not in person.  Not only do we not want to look at it, but we’re going to get damn sick of the news headlines and late night standup jokes if you’re famous and the pictures get leaked (which, let’s face it, they always do).  No matter what kind of naughty acrobatics you can perform, it’s still the body part which most assures us that God indeed did have a sense of humor when he created man, and absolute proof that he liked Eve more than Adam.  He clearly wasn't just scraping the bottom of the barrel for leftover, misshapen parts when he put her together.

On behalf of women everywhere, I beg of you, in the name of all that is good and holy in the world – please, pretty pretty please, figure out a better way of attracting women.

Sarcasmo
Only this time, I’m not being sarcastic – I really, really, really want men to stop showing off their kibbles and bits.)

PS - This is another blog post I found that shares my confusion and distaste for such behavior.  Enjoy.  http://qcreport.blogspot.com/2011/06/ive-got-to-hand-it-to-me.html

The Unemployment Chronicles

When someone asks the relatively harmless question “What have you been up to lately?” and all you can come up with as a response is that you bought some new underwear . . . stop.  Take a look around.  This that you see?  This is a view dangerously similar to the one from rock bottom.  Best go ahead and grab a shovel.

For the first couple of days, unemployment was fun.  I am a big, big fan of Not Doing A Damn Thing, and I do it well.  I am the MVP of Not Doing A Damn Thing.  But then it got boring.  And then it got sad.  Such is the life of the unemployed. 

We only know what day it is by what shows up on our DVR.  I watched “So You Think You Can Dance” last night, thus, today is Friday.  Our best friend’s name is Netflix.  We have constant headaches, because apartment maintenance only happens during midday hours, when most people are at work or school.  We name our houseplants (my hibiscus, Glenn, says hello, and asks that you don’t judge).  Trips to Target are even more exciting than ever (and not just when it’s to buy new underwear)(and let’s face it . . . they were pretty exciting when you weren’t bored out of your skull).  We Youtube Russell Brand’s rant about the injustice of watching Cops as an unemployed man, and realizing that there are dogs who have jobs while we eat our Froot Loops in front of the TV at 11AM.  We watch reruns all day, hit IMDb when faces look familiar to make sure things aren’t just completely running together, and wind up spending the next couple of hours memorizing the entire film career of Joe Pesci.  (FYI, there were some really cool guest stars on “House” back in the day . . . Jeremy Renner, Tyson Ritter, LL Cool J . . . shame it went down the drain.)  We become so detached from current culture that we think an old guest appearance by LL Cool J is fun.  We go to bed late and sleep late, effectively reversing the idea of a normal day, and become nocturnal pod people who look forward to midnight reruns of “Will and Grace”.  We wear a path to and from the pool and to and from the beer drawer in the fridge like they’re the freaking Oregon Trail. 

I’m pretty confident that everybody in the state of Texas has my resume at this point.  I’ve applied with everyone from tiny one-man criminal defense firms to Exxon.  It’s pretty pathetic at this point.  I haven’t had a single interview.  I can’t even get the time of day to get a rejection letter from most places.  I promise I’m qualified.  I graduated law school in the top 20%, and then went ahead and got another law degree for good measure.  I didn’t have an official internship during law school, but I was terribly busy dealing with that whole “my-dad-suddenly-died” situation, which apparently doesn’t fit anywhere on a resume.  So sue me.  I worked in a District Attorney’s office all through undergrad, and was a research assistant for a professor who is totally willing to sing my praises all through law school.  Maybe that extra degree makes it appear that I am overqualified, and will be too expensive . . . I can promise you that is not the case.  I am past the point where I am looking for a job that “pays well” and will gladly accept one that just “pays.”  So I really don’t understand why I can’t even get a response from a single one of these places.  According to my resume, I have what they’re looking for.  If they choose not to hire me after an interview, that’s fine.  I have no problem with employers hating me as a person, but there’s nothing reprehensible about my resume dammit!

Like I told you, I’m in a pretty pathetic state.  We won’t even get into the issues about month-to-month rent on my apartment and the unholy amount of student loans looming.  I think you get the picture of the swift downward spiral toward rock bottom that I am currently on.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have "Deadwood" reruns to watch.

Sarcasmo

MIA

I realize that many of my lovely readers check on a regular basis for new posts, and so must have seen by now that I have been MIA for a couple of weeks.  I'm sorry about this - I've been working super hard lately on my thesis paper for school, and it's gotten down to finals crunch time, so I've just been having to focus my attentions elsewhere.  I haven't given up on the blog - I'll get back to it very soon :)

I Wish I Could Quit You

God help me. I’m not proud of it. But I cannot stop watching "American Idol". I’ve tried so hard to quit. Every year I promise myself that this will be the year I don’t put myself through that misery, and it never sticks. I cannot help but tune in every week to see the cornucopia of bullshit to be perpetrated by these singing monkeys.

I remember being in high school when the show started (hello, dirt? Yes, hi, I’m older than you.) and totally dismissing it. That’s when it would have been totally age appropriate to get into it. But now, as a 26 year old woman? There is no excuse for this type of addiction. I can’t pinpoint when it started, but it is so, so shameful.

The real rub of it is that I don’t even like it. I hate it. All I do when I watch it is complain. So rarely do they put out somebody I could actually be a fan of. I fast forward through half of if, and then my addiction takes hold to make me rewind and watch anyway. It’s practically emotionally damaging. “American Idol” is like an abusive boyfriend to me. I get completely irate whenever they have “themed” weeks geared towards my favorite artists – I have mentally wept all through every Beatles, Rolling Stones, Johnny Cash or Frank Sinatra episode. It’s one thing to do a bad karaoke version of a great song, but these assholes pump out caterwauling death rattles where a once great song stood.

Every now and then, very very rarely, Idol takes pity on me and graces me with a great performance that I can use to rationalize 6 more years of obsessive watching. Adam Lambert’s version of “Mad World,” David Cook’s “Hello” – things like that. Singular events of vocal mastery that are so few and far between they should be viewed as total anomalies. The best I can hope for is a totally desperate train wreck who takes the Baton of Crazy from seasons past and just freaking sprints with it week to week to keep my interest. For example, this season’s Jacob Lusk or Casey Abrams. Naima has displayed impressively monumental crazy every week, but it’s the jerky kind, not the fun kind. The annoying, how-dare-you-who-do-you-think-you-are-trying-this-junk type. Jacob, on the other hand, is fantastic. His desperation shines through every week. He always looks to be on the verge of the most intense crying jag known to man, and I can’t tell if he wants to be Luther Vandross or Whitney Houston more. Although, he didn’t have the decency to wail through “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” on last night’s Elton John episode, which would have been so up his sad little theatrical background, and so, so dramatic. With Casey, my little Yukon Cornelius look alike, I vacillate between being completely enamored with his weird, quirky behavior, and being completely terrified by him.

The show is even worse this season. They’ve taken Simon Cowell away, the only real voice of reason. The only one I could count on to call a fool out on his vocal fuckery week to week. God, I so wish I could hear his comments on some of these contestants this year. I close my eyes and I can just hear his thundering condemnation of Naima’s dancing and fake reggae accent, and Scotty McCreery’s utter inability to stand up straight, hold a microphone like a normal human being, and stop making weird sex faces that are totally inappropriate for a 17 year old on TV. I need somebody to make Haley stop with her stupid angry chihuahua growls. The only ones I truly enjoy from a talent and performance based standard are Paul McDonald (and that’s largely due to the fact that he looks like Charlie Day from “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”) and James Durbin. But even they make it difficult on me. If Old McDonald wears that damn bedazzled white jacket again I’m voting him off the island, and Durbin just makes me nervous. I would like Pia, she’s a wonderful singer, but she has to be one of the most sinfully boring people to ever be on TV, second only to James Lipton.

I had so hoped that by making Steven Tyler a judge Idol would at least entertain me more, but alas, no. Every now and then he busts out with some incomprehensible crazypants talk, but mostly he just sits around in his lady blouses trying to be prettier than Jennifer Lopez, and, like me, hating his life for being sucked into this utter, despicable nonsense.

Sarcasmo

I So Win

Of course, I kind of always win. I mean, I’m no Charlie Sheen, but I always win. This particular win, however, is especially impressive.

Not so long ago, I wrote here about how it is impossible to buy my mother gifts that she doesn’t either pick out herself, or just return whenever you look away.

Well insert some clichéd motivational speaker nonsense about achieving the impossible here, because FINALLY, after years of failed and misguided attempts, I’ve DONE IT!   All by myself, I've come up with a Monica-proof present that she didn't know she was getting, and that she won’t (read: can’t) return!

Clearly, I have the powers of some type of witchcraft.

Ok, I had some outside assistance, and my sisters chipped in their part. But I am the mastermind behind it all.  I am the gift-engineering puppetmaster.

Instead of getting her wine, something for the house, wine, something to wear, something for the yard, or more wine, we created an event for her. On May 15th, mom and her BFF Debbie will be going to see Mamma Mia! at the Sarofim Hall in Houston. Lunch (and, more importantly, a creamy, cheesy dessert) at the Cheesecake Factory is on us as well, via a gift card. We even included cash to valet park at the Hobby Center, and to tip the valet on the way out. I’m very thorough. So mom gets some grown-up time on a day in the city, complete with dinner and a show.

My mom is an exceptional woman. I would totally suck as a human being without her. My powers of wit and witchcraft derive directly from her years of zooming about on her own broom.  She’s been through things I can’t even imagine, and manages to still be a great mom, and a real blasty blast to boot. I will never be able to show her how much I truly appreciate her and what she does, and will never be able to find a birthday present magnificent enough to show my gratitude. 

The best I can do is give her a day away from her damn kids.

Sarcasmo

Audience Participation

Stand back . . . I’m going to talk law. I need some assistance, and not just from other attorneys, but from any and all readers.

I’m thinking about writing my thesis paper on the after effects of government takings and condemnations. Just to give you some basic info, there are 2 types of government takings – blight removal, and economic redevelopment. In 2005, a case went before the United States Supreme Court over the condemnation of two homes that were in good shape, had been in a family for years, and were not in crime-driven areas. The homes were taken by the government so that an office park could be built as part of a city-wide plan for economic redevelopment. So, there were two legitimate sides to the story – people lost their homes, but there was a genuine probability that the entire city (which was very economically challenged) would benefit.

There was a huge reaction to this case from the public. People were, to put it simply, pissed. 43 out of 50 states following this case either made statutory changes, or went so far as to make amendments to their respective constitutions to protect their own citizens from a similar outcome. Some of them put harsher restrictions on the use of economic redevelopment takings by the state, and some of them got rid of them altogether. Only Florida, of the 43 states who acted after this case, disallowed both economic redevelopment and blight removal condemnations.

After such a movement against economic redevelopment, there has been more of a turn to blight removal. Here is where the crux of my research will be focused. When the government takes personal property, it must pay the owner fair and just compensation. But when you are in an urban slum, and your property is taken – what are you paid? The fair market value of a slum. What can you do with that kind of money? Buy into another slum. My problem is that government takings function with the purpose of cleaning places up, or making general improvements, but at the end of the day, they only serve to further a continuous circle. A statement from a Supreme Court justice in another case is what really set me off down this road – he talked about how the purpose of condemnation was equality, that no citizens deserve to live in those types of conditions, and thus it falls to the state to take them out of that situation. I found it to be fairly naïve – although people were removed from one slum, they weren’t set up in any way to go anywhere else. Furthermore, it struck me that when most states disallowed economic redevelopment takings, yet still allowed blight removal, it was a shocking statement as to how they valued their own citizens. Effectively, I see that as saying the middle class was worth protecting from governmental takings, but the lowest classes were not. Which may not be so much a reflection on the bill writers as the voting turnout, but still, it’s the effect nonetheless. Even more troubling, as time has progressed, we’ve seen a movement away from the traditional definition of blight. More and more we are seeing properties taken by the government that would not have been called a “blight” in the past, but in the absence of an economic redevelopment option, have been shoe-horned in.

So, here is where you come in, dear reader. I’d appreciate some feedback. Just give me some thoughts. If you want more information, let me know. Respond to something, anything. Pass it on to others. It may spur me on in different directions, or give me new things to think about – I do have 30 pages to fill after all! I’m very interested to see if people share my concerns, or what other views may be. Government takings may be a necessary evil in some circumstances, and may serve genuine public benefits that privatized ownership may not – but on the flip side, there are circumstances where the effects may be troublesome.

Thanks for any feedback you can give!

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About: not about writing a 30 page paper, that's for damn sure.

Ready For Her Closeup - Part 2

As I wrote a few weeks ago (you can read the entry here) my youngest sister, Leslie, recently filmed an episode of the TV show "Majesty Outdoors".  And now, the time has come!  Leslie's episode airs at 12:30 PM this coming Monday, March 14th, on the Versus channel.  You can find it on channel 603 if you have DirecTV, and 151 on DishNetwork.  Cable watchers, you're on your own to find it.

She was featured today in the El Campo Leader News in an article about her experience - for those of you outside of the Leader News' circulation, you can read the article here.

This means you have 4 days to speak to your satellite or cable provider and gain access to the Versus channel if you don't already have it, and to set up DVR services if your work schedule will prohibit you from watching TV in the middle of the day.

Go on.  Do it.  Hurry up.  I'll check the ratings and find out if you didn't.  And you already know I'm armed.

As her sister, I implore you to watch, not only because I'm proud of her and excited for her, but because we'll get to see a giant bird fly at her head and scare the bejeezus out of her.  And that's gotta be good.

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About:  I haven't really hidden my feelings about this year of school - I think we all know I pretty much hate it.  But I still get spring break.  And all you fools with jobs don't.  So . . . ha!

Bang Bang

If you’re very quiet, you will be able to hear a man far far away, in the small town of El Campo, TX, banging his head against the wall and hating his life.

This past weekend, this poor man (his name has been left out for his sanity and protection – we’ll just call him “Tricky”) certified me, as well as several friends and family members, to carry concealed handguns. I have a funny feeling he regrets this already.

Just imagine this class of people he had to teach and who are now running around among you, armed and ready for action:

• Myself, and I have already explained to you here that I am usually armed to the teeth and usually under the assumption that I am under attack.
• My sister, who during the class, gave my mother a rainbow band-aid for a papercut, and who wants to turn her gun sideways when she uses it, like a Colombian kill shot.
• My mother, who, whenever Tricky asked questions in class about how to respond in different situations, answered every single time with “shoot him in the ass” (even to the questions not involving threats or weapons of any type), and at one point in the day threatened to shoot Tricky himself in the ass. She also joined me in sniffing spent shells during the proficiency part of the test.
• My cousin, who owns more weapons than the gun shop where we held the class, who has mastered the act of drinking like it’s a valued Renaissance art form, and is one of the most badass, toughest women I know.
• A friend of my mother’s, who has to deal with her in a professional capacity on a regular basis, and has hinted that he is carrying the gun for his own protection – from her.  After all, she's probably threatened to shoot him in the ass.
• My aforementioned sister’s boyfriend, who has to deal with my sister on a regular basis, and I fear the gun will leave concealment for use either on her or himself the next time she drags him into Sephora to go makeup shopping, or the next time she tries to explain the fine distinctions between different bras and the respective purposes they serve.
• Another friend of my mother’s, who admitted to fully unloading her gun to kill snakes on a regular basis (OK I can’t really blame her for that one).
• My aunt, who spent the day giggling and insinuating that the entire class had been set up as an assassination attempt on my uncle, while Tricky took note of the maniacal glint in her eye.
• Said uncle, who, resigned to his fate, handed his own checkbook over to Tricky to write himself a check to pay for that assassination.

A few more tame people joined us, and I fear they left just as scarred as Tricky was.

Really and truly, in all seriousness, I don’t mean to make light of a situation as serious as carrying a deadly weapon. We’re all fully aware of what we’re doing, are all very well trained in handling firearms, and behave in completely safe manners. We all passed the proficiency portion of the test with flying colors. But still. We are who we are. And it was a long, long day in the gun shop, sitting around the conference table, learning the rules for concealed handgun carrying. The dead horse that is the “is that a gun in your pocket?” joke was beaten even harder. We created every possible bizarre crime scene imaginable to ask Tricky when and if we were allowed to shoot somebody, and in what position we should place the body before the police could arrive. Bullets were creatively placed by women shooters on the male body on the proficiency targets. Somebody (not naming who) requested to shoot beer cans instead of a human-shaped target, as she’s really good at that – and upon being told no, managed to completely miss the target and hit a beer can she didn’t even know was there.

OK, that might have been me.

At the end of the day, we all passed, and we all await our licenses (all of which will feature photos taken at 8AM thus resulting in us looking like deranged maniacs who have no business carrying dental floss, let alone guns). As Tricky can attest, don’t mess with any of us – not only are we armed, but we’re all batshit crazy and ready to shoot you in the ass at the smallest provocation.

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About:  Tonight's episode of "House."  I know a lot of people gave up on this show, and it gets criticized for being a lot of the same thing all of the time.  But I still love it.  I may fast-forward through some of the other characters, but I adore Hugh Laurie, and I will never get tired of the acerbic Dr. House.  Tonight's episode is supposed to have some Dr. Cuddy dream sequences, picturing House in a number of different scenarios.  The preview for the episode showed a top hat-clad House singing a dark, creepy version of "Come On Get Happy" - and it was 6 different types of awesome.  Apparently there's a whole musical number involved, choreographed by Mia Michaels (one of the best choreographers in the world, and frequently featured on another of my favorite shows/obsessions, "So You Think You Can Dance."  Super, super jazzed to see this business go down.

Just Like Chicken

I’ve seen several previews lately for Johnny Depp’s new animated movie, Rango. For those of you unfamiliar with the movie, Depp voices a lizard who becomes sheriff of an animal town to eradicate a troublesome rattlesnake. I saw a different preview the other day, and it showed the snake being launched into the air and writhing around. Given my love of Johnny, it’s a shame I won’t be able to go see the movie.

You see . . . I really, really, really hate snakes. Like, really. I could fill the page with the word “really” and it really wouldn’t be enough to express to you how afraid I am of snakes. This is no ordinary “eek! A snake! Somebody get it while I stand on a chair!” type of fear. It is more an unbearable, paralyzing, soul-crushing state of terror.

I have nightmares about snakes. I have never been in a reptile house at a zoo in my entire life – every time I have been presented with the option, I have dug my heels in and threatened a conniption fit of the most epic proportion humanly imaginable. I can’t look at pictures of snakes. When I was a kid I got these wildlife magazines, and if there were snakes I had to put the magazine inside of a book or a bag or something and give it to my mom to take the snake parts out. I can’t watch snakes on TV. I can’t even watch cartoons of snakes, as evidenced by my refusal to watch even previews of Rango. When it comes to films like True Grit or Harry Potter where I know snakes will be just a minor part of a movie I otherwise want to see, I prepare by either knowing when to leave the theater for a well-timed “bathroom break,” or I bring a hoodie in which to hide my scaredy-cat face. Being presented with a snake will cause me to hyperventilate, sweat, get nauseous, throw up, and/or weep, even if it is only one cleverly drawn as a google-eyed cartoon safe behind the glass of my TV. Magnify that by about a basquillion per cent if faced with one in the real, physical world.

I hesitate to use this example, as I’m pretty certain it’s going to cement my status as batshit crazy. But it’s probably the only viable option to use to express the gravity of the situation. Plus, looking back, I’m sure I looked hilarious. Saturday morning, unbeknownst to me, the neighbors below me decided to move out with the most ridiculously huge moving truck ever around 9 AM. I was sleeping peacefully, as I see no good reason to be awake at 9 AM on a Saturday. The truck apparently backed up to their garage (located directly underneath my bedroom), and did some sort of truck maneuver that I neither understand nor care about that released some large amount of pressure or something, resulting in an outrageously obnoxious hissing-air-type sound. Even in my deep, hardcore sleep, my brain managed to equate this sound with a snake (and apparently one proportionally large enough to be capable of emitting such a loud hiss), and I sat straight up in bed screaming in terror. I so completely lost my shit, it took me a good hour to calm down, even after it happened again and I heard the people and truck doors and sounds of moving outside and realized what was going on.

Seriously, I hope to God nobody heard me, because there is no way to rationalize it as any type of normal human behavior.

Snakes may supposedly taste just like chicken (to which I say, just eat some damn chicken if you want the taste of chicken), but I myself actually am a huge, pathetic, featherless chicken.

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About:  THE OSCARS!  I don't even care if you judge.  There has already been some excellent fuckery parading down the red carpet.  Apparently, when you slide on a designer gown, you become mirror-proof.

What's That Thing About Gift Horses Again?

My mother is the single most difficult human being on God’s green earth to buy gifts for.

She is the type of person that, when she decides she wants or needs something, she just goes and gets it for herself. Which is great, I applaud her for that – but we, her children, who often find ourselves in a position to get her gifts, are totally screwed.

Her tastes are so random, unexpected, and particular, that it makes it almost impossible to figure out a gift that will surprise her, and she will actually want to keep. I pride myself on being someone who pays attention to other people, especially those close to me. I love, LOVE, LOVE to get people awesome presents. I always try to notice what they like and don’t like, and use that information to find the most perfect gift imaginable – like this past Christmas, when I got my middle sister a Jesse and the Rippers concert t-shirt, and she lost her ever-loving mind*. But somehow, with my mom, the math always gets screwed up. The opposite of something she dislikes does not automatically create something she likes. Something very similar to something she likes doesn’t mean she will like it as well. You can see how frustrating this can get.

*If you don’t know who they are, I’m not explaining – A) because you should know already, and B) because you’ll judge.

Sometimes she throws out some wicked wild cards. This weekend she went to Lowe’s and bought a planter that I never, in ten million years as her daughter, even after incredibly specific questions administered through a lie detector test, could have possibly guessed she would like. It’s a delightfully tacky, ethnically-painted frog – I think it’s great, but never would I have picked it for her. The fact that she was so in love with it – even went so far as to affectionately name him Senor and giggle every time she shows him off – completely blew my mind.

The bottom line is, it’s nearly impossible to guess what she likes or wants. Usually the only safe bet, the only way we can have any creative input on her gifts and achieve the ultimate goal of giving her something she didn’t expect and won’t return, is with wine or wine-related paraphernalia. But wine can only get us so far. What normally winds up happening is she tells us specific things that she wants or needs and has managed to restrain herself from buying so that there is something left for us to get her. So we at least have a few options we can get, but any element of surprise is ruined, and we end up with situations like this past Christmas where my sister gave her a gigantic wheeled trash can. Festive, right? If we’re planning to do something to surprise her, it’s best to keep the receipt.

Her birthday is coming up in March. It’s a big birthday that some people would like to force her into celebrating, but lucky for her, she refuses to go to work on her birthday and instead hides like a hibernating gopher. This policy achieves 2 goals: One, nobody can publicly exploit her birthday, and two, she doesn’t have to work on her birthday. I’m 26 and can’t remember her ever being at work on her birthday. My sisters and I are playing a risky, risky (and probably stupid) game this year. In honor of an important birthday, we’ve thought outside the box. We haven’t asked her what she wants. We haven’t just purchased her perfume or anything like that which we already know she likes and just needs to be refilled or replaced. We haven’t asked her to refrain from buying herself things she needs. We came up with this one all on our own. We’ve whispered and plotted for weeks. Outside consultation was brought in to participate and assist. And I think, I think, that this time, finally, we have been able to put together a present that she won’t expect, and will really use and enjoy.

Wish us luck. If we’re wrong, we’re screwed, because it can’t be returned.

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About: I recently finished reading The Hunger Games trilogy of books by Suzanne Collins. They’re technically young adult level novels, but I really got into them! I think I finished all 3 within a space of 7 or 8 days. They may have been YA, but there was some seriously dramatic, traumatizing stuff going on.  I’m thinking about going back and re-reading already because I tend to get too excited about moving on through an engrossing book to find out what happens, and my comprehension/thoroughness suffers for it. I’m not saying they’re magnificent works of literature, but if you’re looking for a quick, simple, enjoyable read that is dramatic, entertaining, and creative, check these out!

This Is Why I'll Never Be An Adult

I stole this blog post.


I don't even feel bad about it.


Follow the link HERE to a post from one of my favorite blogs in the whole wide world.  Even though I didn't write it myself, it's an excellent (and hilarious) representation of how I function as a human being, and why I'm not very good at it.  It's much better than I could have written it. 


Plus it has illustrations!


Sarcasmo

School Sweet School

As we all know, I am a loud mouth who thoroughly enjoys being right. I admit that. But I do try my best to admit it when I’m wrong, as much as it may taste like acid coming out.

That being acknowledged, I take back everything bad I ever said about going to school at St. Mary’s.

I wondered why, when I came here to UT for orientation, we weren’t taken on a tour of the campus. I wondered why, when I inquired about coming to school here, I wasn’t invited to come to the school and meet anybody, or take a tour. Now I understand a little better. One would think, considering state funding, the hundreds of photos around the building honoring distinguished alumni and their generous donations, and my ridiculous tuition, that we would have classrooms with electrical outlet capabilities for all students to plug in laptops. Not so. I end up getting to class ridiculously early so I can claim a prime spot to reach the outlets that are few and far between. Without that, I’d even settle for a school with working clocks in the classrooms. Or how about not taking a class in a room so overcrowded, people are forced to just sit in chairs in a corner, without a desk or table to put their books or laptops on?

Only a choice few of the professors I have encountered seem to genuinely care about their students. Most of them just come in to class, speak their peace, and hustle out when class is over. At St. Mary’s, I knew a lot of the professors, and most of them had an honest interest in the success of their students. I know St. Mary’s was a smaller school and smaller community, but most of the professors I’ve seen here don’t make much of an effort to give a damn. Most of them just flounce around, proud of their own importance for teaching here. After many of my experiences here, I can attest that being a UT law professor isn’t necessarily something to brag about. One of my professors last semester made several callous comments about how UT students were the cream of the crop (I’ll get to this in a moment), and that students who went to “lower-tiered” law schools are less intelligent and less motivated. I suppose she didn’t realize that she had 2 LLM students in her class, myself and my friend Shannon, who went to one of these so-called “lower-tier” schools. We both shot hands into the air to contradict her. We may have gone to a “lower-tier” school, but we were motivated enough to continue our education with another degree here at her precious school, and I’d gladly put my skills up against most of the students here. My experience with a different professor has been another type of nightmare. At UT, 1L students are allowed to take some upper level electives in their 2nd semester, so there are several in this class with me. The professor has us jumping through a number of hoops that are totally irrelevant to writing my thesis paper, and is simultaneously supremely unhelpful in guiding the class through writing the paper our grade is based on. She has assigned students to each weekly class to “lead discussions.” It so turns out that what she really intended by this was for each week’s students to basically teach the class. Seriously, she expects us to read the materials, and then pretty much run the entire class period ourselves. It’s one thing to throw out some questions or topics or something and invite a discussion, but that’s not the case. So please, somebody explain to me what I, an LLM student who already has her JD and has already passed the bar exam, am supposed to learn in an advanced property class from a 1L who hasn’t even finished first year property, and how that is putting my tuition money to good use. No really, please, explain it to me.



I’ll wait.



Still waiting.



Exactly.



UT Law is regarded as one of, if not the best law school in Texas. Graduates are automatically given a high regard by potential employers. After almost a full year here, and putting UT in comparison with St. Mary’s, I am really just incensed by this. I have no doubt there are some incredibly intelligent students here, and I don’t want to discredit that. But several of the LLM students, who all went to school elsewhere, have been honestly surprised by the type and quality of legal education being afforded students here. In a class I took earlier today, for example, my professor requested we bring a copy of rule 23 of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure to class Monday. On the way out of class, I overheard a guy asking a friend where he could get it. Honestly? If you’re in an upper level law course and don’t know how to look up a law, get out, you have no business here. In the same class a few weeks ago, my professor asked who had read certain cases having to do with regulation of commercial speech. I was the only one who raised my hand. She asked which professor I had for Constitutional Law, and I explained that I had gone to St. Mary’s for my JD. She was shocked that the UT students hadn’t been exposed to these (fairly important) cases. In so many classes it has really surprised me how much basic legal knowledge is unknown by most of the students around me.

Again, I realize St. Mary’s was a much smaller school, but there was a great sense of community there. Like many of the professors I’ve encountered, most of the students here are too consumed with their own superiority to worry about any other students. It’s been appalling to me how uncaring, arrogant, and flat-out rude a lot of the people here have been. At St. Mary’s everybody knew each other and while we may not have liked each other, we at least conducted ourselves with respect. I came here expecting the same, and conducting myself in such a manner. But there’s no attempt for anybody to get to know each other or to give much value to anybody outside of their little cliques, or, God forbid, a student from a different school.

I fully comprehend that UT is a state school, and so it functions in a different way than the private St. Mary’s did. And I won’t get into discussions about admissions and grading (although the fact that almost all UT exams are take-home, floating, or open book is suspicious to me – what are you actually learning and retaining??) or any of that, or what numbers prove UT to be the better school. I can only speak to my personal experiences. I know how I’ve been treated, I know how I see others treated, and I can compare the information that is being taught in both places. I take back my (now seemingly trivial) complaints about how expensive St. Mary’s was, or delays in getting loan refunds, or how disgusting our parking lot was every April after Oyster Bake. I take it all back. If I ever (and that’s a considerably large “if”) pay off my mountain of student loans, any alumni donations I ever make will go to St. Mary’s. It had its faults, for sure, but overall, knowing what I know now, it was a positive, valuable experience.

Sarcasmo

Currently VERY Excited About: I bought tickets today for my sister and I to see Rock of Ages in May! It’s one of my favorite musicals, second only to Rent. And that’s saying something, because I love a lot of musicals. Don’t judge.

The Dilemma

What’s a girl to do when a celebrity she loves is caught up in scandalous behavior?

All the ridiculous celebrity behavior we see, especially lately with people like Lindsey Lohan and Charlie Sheen, raises a lot of questions to me. I realize that the personal lives of celebrities are really none of our business – making movies for a living doesn’t necessarily mean you deserve paparazzi to stalk you down and catch every embarrassing move you make. Exposing yourself onscreen doesn’t necessarily mean you should have to expose yourself off screen. If you were an accountant, the entire country wouldn’t care if you slipped a nip or engaged in illicit office hijinks with ladies in blue dresses. But at the same time, it’s fascinating. People are nosy. I get that.

It’s really difficult to separate the celebrity from the person, but that’s what I try to do. For example, I very much enjoy a lot of Lady Gaga’s music. Personally I think she’s an irritating, attention-whoring maniac, but I will absolutely throw down a red light dance party to a lot of her tunes. Or take my love of Ben Roethlisberger. I like the guy because he’s a great quarterback. Whether or not he sexually assaulted a girl has no bearing on how he plays the game. I’m not a fan of him because of the guy he is off the field, but yet I feel kind of dirty for being such a big fan when he’s caught in such a nasty scandal. It’s really easy with players like Emmett Smith, who are known for being great on and off the field, to reinforce your fanship by recognizing he’s both a good guy and a good player. I’m a fan of his as a football legend, and as a human being, as separate achievements. Oh, and as a dancer. But with someone like Ben, it makes it difficult to rationalize being a fan at all when his behavior out of uniform is so sketchy. Just because I like the way the guy throws a football or takes a hit in the backfield doesn’t mean I’ve become a one-woman walking endorsement for sexually assaulting the fine citizens of Georgia. On the flip side, where a person you’re not already a fan of has their character brought into question, it’s super easy to make a quick judgment and write them off – say, for instance, Kobe Bryant. I don’t follow basketball, I don’t know much about the guy, so when his hotel room incident blew up, I was pretty quick to just up and decide Kobe Bryant is a douchebag. I admit it, I’m a hypocrite. But how many people do this?

To a point I get it, because if we didn’t have celebrity gossip to spread and make fun of, there would be no magazines or late night talk shows. And I don’t want to live in a world without “The Late Late Show With Craig Ferguson.” But how much is too much? Too much attention is just encouraging and enabling. And seriously, I’m already sick of Charlie Sheen jokes. I’m not a fan of “Two and a Half Men,” but let me ask those of you who are – does knowing Charlie Sheen enjoys spending his down time with cracked-out whores in closets make the show any less enjoyable or funny? It’s not like you’re being asked to watch him consort with nocturnal maidens of joy. At what point does his radical behavior make you write him (and all of his work) off, when you previously so enjoyed it? Lindsey Lohan being a thieving crack fiend doesn’t mean I won’t watch Mean Girls the next time it’s on TV. Alec Baldwin’s rant at his daughter doesn’t make “30 Rock”/Jack Donaghy any less excellent. Usher is single-handedly responsible for forcing Justin Bieber down the throats of the collective entertainment industry, but I forgive him and will absolutely watch him dance any time I can.

I suppose my internal dilemma is hard to articulate, and a lot of this rant has been a sprawling mess of thoughts on the subject. Celebrity gossip fascinates me as a nosy, curious person, but another part of me just wants to go to the movies or watch TV and enjoy/criticize the respective performances based on talent and not criminal histories. I feel dirty when I have to rationalize being a fan of someone for their work and in spite of naughty extracurricular activities. I try to be good at separating the celebrity from the person, but like I said, I’m still absolutely guilty of using scandalous behavior to reinforce my dislike of someone I wasn’t a fan of to begin with and using it to question people who are fans.

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About:  Season 2 of "Justified."  I should have written about this last week, since that's when it premiered, but I didn't.  Seriously though, such a great show.  It's an excellently gritty FX drama that follows a US Marshal (played ever-so-handsomely by Timothy Olyphant) working in his backwoods Kentucky hometown.  Season 2 just started last week, and with the way Season 1 wrapped up, it wouldn't be hard to start watching now and still enjoy it.  Most of Season 1's storylines were wrapped up pretty neatly, and it shouldn't be a problem to pick things up as you go - or, you could check out Season 1 on DVD, since it was pretty excellent.

"Martha's polishing the brass on the Titanic. It's all going down, man."

- Brad Pitt as Tyler Durden in Fight Club.

Looking back on the beginning of my first year of law school, it amuses me how eager we all were. We were all so excited to be learning the law, and learning a big impressive legal vocabulary full of words like “writ” and “alternative dispute resolution” and “Constitution”. The fun wore off though as we quickly found that the law permeated our lives outside of school to a degree that was a little uncomfortable. News stories, recreational books, grocery store ads – everywhere we looked, we were slapped in the face by the cold, hard, hand of the law. We tried to joke about it, talk about how law was everywhere we looked and it completely polluted the way we looked at things, but really we were all just grasping at straws trying to find ways to accept the fact that we’d never think like normal people again. Never again would we be able to relax and enjoy life without noticing the legal consequences of all the behavior around us.

During Spring Break of my first year of law school, I made a trip to Galveston to go to my sister’s dance competition. On one of the days she wasn’t performing, we went to see the Titanic exhibit at Moody Gardens. Away from school and away from my books, I assumed I was safe from the influence of the law’s harmful brain-probe (the irony of feeling safe among the flotsam of a 100 year old shipwreck escaped me at the time). At the end of the exhibit, there was a room of photos of a handful of different ship passengers and their respective stories. The last one I went to was a well-dressed woman, clearly a first class passenger, named Lady Lucy Duff-Gordon. Fellow lawyers and law students have at this point stopped, gasped, and shared my horror. To you blissful non-lawyers, let me explain. Lady Duff-Gordon was involved in a very famous breach of contract incident studied by every first year contract student in America. The law had followed me to the bottom of the sea. Well, to Galveston anyway. Here, in the bowels of one of the greatest American tragedies was my own personal tragedy – I’ve been ruined for life, never to escape the labyrinth of the law. I sent a desperate email to my contracts professor, the wily Willy Rice, to share my plight. He was delighted by the way we find parts of our legal education everywhere we look. I could not share his amusement.

Our excitement wore off eventually, and learning fun legal terminology and ways to argue the bejeezus out of other human beings wasn’t as fun as it was at first impression. Sadly enough though, several years later, I’m still going through the same things. I know what you’re thinking – “Jennifer, you’re a fully developed lawyer now. This is literally what you have spent years studying to do for a living, clearly even you had to realize that you’d probably encounter legal stories and ideas on a regular basis.” And sure, fine, I’ll give you that. But I don’t like taking my work home with me. I don’t like it sneaking up on me. I’m currently taking a mass tort litigation class, where we are studying class actions, mass accidents like the DuPont Plaza Hotel fire, and mass product cases like Agent Orange and Bendectin. I’m also taking a class on the regulation of toxic substances, where the last couple of weeks have been spent on FIFRA, the statute that covers the regulation of pesticides. Most of the pesticide cases we have studied involve chlordane, which is a pesticide that was taken off the market years ago. This past Tuesday I tuned in to watch “The Good Wife,” one of my favorite shows to begin with, but which had the added benefit this week of guest starring one Mr. Michael J. Fox P. Keaton. Within the first 3 minutes of the episode, the week's plot was explained to be covering the recruitment of plaintiff members for a class action chlordane case. Yes, I realized it was a legal drama and therefore a pretty sure risk of being exposed to legal nonsense, but it was creepily uncanny the way it was so dead on the nose to what I have been studying lately.

I may have asked for it by watching a legal TV show, but even aside from that, the opportunity to ruin the most normal things can pop out and surprise you when you least expect it like a stranger with candy and a windowless van. Last week I was doing some laundry and doing things around the apartment. Since I don’t like quiet, I put on a movie that I didn’t necessarily need to pay attention to, just so I could have some background noise. That day’s ambiance of choice was The Incredible Hulk. At one point toward the end I caught myself paused amidst a pile of socks, holding a pink one and an orange one, marveling at the damage caused by The Abomination and wondering about the possibilities for a class action lawsuit. Never mind the fact that it appears I have the cinematic tastes of a 12 year old boy, but I needed someone to take one of the socks and slap me Zsa Zsa-style to make me stop destroying perfectly enjoyable awful movies with my legal obsessions.

Like my title suggests, I think I’m a lost cause. It’s a good thing I like law. One, because I have to deal with it everywhere I look now that my mind has been irreversibly altered. And two, because I emptied out (read: finished off) a bottle of wine earlier tonight to try and toss/twirl it around like Tom Cruise in Cocktail, and as it turns out, I definitely suck at bartending.

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About: By admitting to you that I watched The Incredible Hulk the other day, I have necessarily revealed to you that although I am a grown woman proudly in possession of both X chromosomes, I dig comic book movies. So at the moment I’m pretty jazzed about the trailers circling for Thor and Captain America, the just-released-today trailer for X-Men: First Class (even though it was missing shots of the movie's villian, played by my perma-fave Kevin Bacon), and about Samuel L. Jackson telling Jimmy Fallon the other day that The Avengers is set to start production in April. All three of the aforementioned trailers look like they’re leading up to pretty excellent movies, and I haven’t found the words in the English language, even in my special lawyer vocabulary, to express the almighty excitement I am experiencing over The Avengers.  Robert Downey Jr. back as Iron Man (which, let's be honest, RDJ as Iron Man is one of the best ideas Hollywood has ever had), and Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury (each total badasses in their respective environments, real and comic). Chris Evans and Chris Hemsworth are reprising their roles as Captain America and Thor respectively, Mark Ruffalo (who I just love, but I have to admit I think his casting is a bit off) will be The Hulk, and Jeremy Renner will be playing Hawkeye. Come on. Awesome.

Ready For Her Closeup

I got a phone call from my mother last week on Monday, and was met with an odd greeting and an inordinately excited tone in her voice – “I’m not really sure yet what exactly is going on, but Leslie [my youngest sister] is going to be on TV.” At first I figured, yeah, ok, she’s going to be on the local news for her FFA or 4-H or drill team activities – but that wasn’t the case, and as we got more information and figured out more of the circumstances, it was actually a much bigger deal than either of us imagined.

There is a gentleman in Austin named Bill Blodgett who runs an organization called Majesty Outdoors, which is focused on finding teenagers who, for one reason or another, do not have a father in their life, and giving them a connection to the outdoors. They go on hunting and fishing excursions, and get to learn a lot about wildlife and the environment. Through a convoluted (yet fortuitous) turn of events, Leslie got the opportunity this past weekend to go on an adventure with Mr. Blodgett and his crew. The trip was filmed, and will be aired as the 12th episode in the currently-running 13 episode season of “Majesty Outdoors”, the organization’s television show airing on the Versus channel.

Mr. Blodgett and his wife/show chaperone Susan met Leslie and I in Austin for lunch on Friday before the trip. I could tell immediately that they were great people, and felt completely comfortable with handing my sister off to them for the weekend. Of course, there are times I’d be perfectly willing to shove her into the custody of train-hopping vagrants, but as she’s currently on my good side, I was happy to see that she’d be spending the weekend with a great couple like the Blodgetts. They took her to Corpus Christi Friday and stayed until Sunday, where she did a little fishing, learned a lot about the Texas Parks and Wildlife conservation efforts, spent some time behind the scenes at the aquarium, and scored some cool swag from the organization’s sponsors.

To make it even better, this upcoming weekend a party is bring thrown for all of the featured teens at Bass Pro Shop in San Antonio to film a reunion episode/season finale. So Leslie will be featured on one episode, and likely seen in another episode immediately following, both of which should air on Versus sometime in March. She had such a good time and they enjoyed her so much that they’ve also invited her along on a trip to go fishing off the Louisiana coast this summer.

I’m not a particularly religious person, and I don’t know how much I buy into the whole “everything happens for a reason” idea, but it is really uncanny the way the past week transpired for Leslie to get to do this. Majesty Outdoors is, at its core, a type of youth ministry program. Another trip had been planned, but there were cancellations, so this one to Corpus was kind of put together last minute as a replacement, and they were really on the line to find a kid to take along. Through a friend’s brother they found out about Leslie, and after a whirlwind of phone calls and e-mails she was in. It was a perfect trip for her – we have access to places to go hunting, so a fish-aimed trip was something new for her. She had been thinking lately about a future with TPW, so it was great for her to get this kind of exposure. Plus Mr. Blodgett has the same college degree Leslie has been considering, he used to raise pigs, he used to play baseball (and was drafted by the same team that drafted our cousin), and his wife is big into bow hunting – Leslie just fit in so well with them it was almost bizarre. Even as skeptical as I am, I have to think there was somebody or something pulling the strings here for Leslie to luck into such a cool opportunity so tailored to her and her future.

Check out the website for Majesty Outdoors here. They’re truly great people with a great purpose.

Sarcasmo

PS – For those of you who know Leslie, or as you can glean from the fact that she is my sister . . . she has been exactly as big of a pain in the butt about all of this as you can imagine. She showed up to our Superbowl part halfway through the first quarter, apologizing for her lateness and blaming the paparazzi. But it’s actually been pretty hilarious, and she absolutely deserves the trip and all the attention she’s gotten.

Curiosity Killed the Clams

I love those TV shows like “How It’s Made” that show you . . .  well, how things are made. It’s seriously fascinating to me to watch the big machines make things like DVD players or tea bags or barbed wire. I can even remember being a kid and being obsessed with the episode of “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood” where they go to the crayon factory. My mind can’t even begin to work with the type of efficiency necessary to put a process like that together. I can only imagine the utter clusterfuck I would create if left with the job of creating an assembly line for a product. It would’ve taken 64 years to make one box of those 64 Crayola colors.

Something I have noticed is that there is one thing we never see how to make – machines that make other things. What type of machine makes the machines that make plungers and votive candles? How do you put together a machine that will in turn put the plastic on the end of shoelaces?

Knowing how things are made just makes me more curious as to how things were invented. That’s a show that should air with “How It’s Made” – first we learn why it’s made, then we learn how. There are so many products on the market for which I would love to track down the inventor and ask, simply, what the hell they were thinking. It’s one thing to invent something that society genuinely has a need for, like a crowbar or peanut butter.  But what I’m really, curious about are the random, seemingly useless things that came out of nowhere.

Take, for example, clamato juice. Who in Christ’s name took a sip of tomato juice, and thought “Hmmm . . . you know what this needs? Clams.” Or, on the other side, who partook in a lovely evening at a clam bake, and turned to his friend and said “You know what . . . we could totally juice these.” It doesn’t even begin to make sense to me, and I’d love to know just what the hell somebody was thinking when they put clams and tomatoes together into a juice.

Another things that incites mad curiosity is thong underwear. Yeah, I know, we’ve heard countless standup comedians talk about how it’s a torture device created by man for women in the same vein as high heeled shoes and tweezers. But really though, think about it. Who decided panty lines were unseemly? We all know that everybody else is wearing underwear. At least, we hope so. So catching a glimpse of a slight bump on your skirt shouldn’t come as a shock. I should think it would be the other way around – a smooth skirt with no lines would actually lead you to believe somebody is not wearing underwear, and that’s the shameful surprise. How is that classy? Breezy, maybe, but classy, not so much.

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About: the SAG awards. Don’t judge, and I won’t put you through another 38 page review of an awards show. Deal? Deal.

Armed to the Tentacles

Yesterday my middle sister called me, and instead of hearing her voice on the line when I answered, I heard a bunch of screeching static noises. I hung up, and assumed I’d been ass-dialed. But she called back almost immediately, and the following conversation took place:

Me: Are you being molested by a robot?
Megan (simultaneously with my previous question): Are you being kidnapped by an alien octopus?
Megan: So you heard the same noises I did?
Me: Yeah . . . wait . . . what? An octopus?
Megan: Yeah. It sounded like tentacles.
Me: Oh. Um . . . what do tentacles sound like?
Megan: You know. Sucky.
Me: Right. And you weren’t being molested by a robot then?
Megan: Heh. No.

This conversation tells you 2 things about me: I possess a wild, ridiculous imagination (as does my sister), and I assume terrible things are happening.

I come by the fear of terrible things naturally. As far back as I can remember, my mother has been absolutely convinced that I will certainly die at the hands of a modern day Ted Bundy. She continuously warns me that my behaviors will lead me to be mass murdered (even after having it pointed out to her that it would be difficult to mass murder one person). So she really shouldn’t be so surprised by my insane paranoia. I’m always absolutely convinced that all people are out to get me, and that I’m basically just living my life in wait for my horrible fate at the hands of a serial killer. This is a bad trait to have when one also possesses a ridiculous imagination.

Take, for example this past summer, when I was living by myself at my cousin’s home in San Antonio. There was a constant stream of people on and off the property making improvements and cleaning up the land and stuff like that. I somehow became convinced after hearing a noise one night that one of the landscapers – who were all very nice during daylight hours, by the way – had gotten into the house one day, bypassed being seen or setting off the alarm, stolen the spare key, had a copy of the key made, replaced the original so no one would be suspicious, then used his new key to break into the house and kill me.

Clearly, logic played no role in this. I didn’t take into consideration the facts that I lived over the garage, and would certainly hear someone either open the garage to come after me, or set off the alarm in the house to go through the garage to get access to me. It made perfect sense that he would steal a key, and copy it, rather than just use the damn stolen key. Being a murderer, he already had low levels of social propriety, and probably wouldn’t have had any qualms about using stolen property. Nor did I consider that probably my murder is an insufficient reward for going through so much trouble and forethought as stealing a key, copying it, replacing it, and then coming back yet again to do the dirty deed. I still spent most of the night lying awake in wait for the coming attack, surrounded by whatever weapons I could get my hands on – kitchen knives, blunt objects, and hairspray. My only defense for this asinine behavior is that I was in the midst of studying for the bar exam, and my mental capacity was seriously damaged. A valid counter to that defense is that this was hardly the first time my paranoid imagination has gone from zero to CSI: Miami in less than a minute.

I carry two types of mace, a knife, and am getting my concealed handgun license in March. I have one handgun already, but as it is large and doesn’t have a safety, it remains in my bedside table, loaded with hollow point bullets, and I am in the market for one more appropriate for concealed purse carrying. Maybe once in my life have I ever been in a situation where there was arguably the slightest possibility that even being lightly armed was necessary – I’ve certainly never been in a position where Fort Knox levels of personal security is required. Still, though. I’m ready for that damned alien octopus if he does show up.

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About:  Ru Paul's Drag Race!! Season 3 started on Monday.  This is absolutely the most ridiculous, awful, and terrifying thing to ever be put on TV - and it is awesome.  What's not to love about a competition between drag queens, hosted and judged by Ru, where the bottom two competitors each week have to "lip sync for their life"?  Best.  Trash.  On TV. . . Ever.

Things That Make Me Crazy - Part 2

Today, after my Regulation of Toxic Substances class ended at 1:15, I overheard bits and pieces of a conversation next to me as we all packed up to go. Someone asked the girl seated next to me if she wanted to go get lunch and she replied – I swear to Jesus – that she’d had some yogurt this morning before she went for her run at 8, so she wasn’t really hungry.

Dante didn’t create a level of hell deep enough for this girl.

She didn’t sit in the chair next to me, so much as she was perched, as she was wee and birdlike. I wanted to take her and shake her and yell that food is OK, but I was afraid I’d shake her little peanut head right off her Barbie-sized shoulders. I considered tripping her as she floated by, but again, I was afraid of breaking the glorified chopsticks she had the audacity to be walking around on like they were legitimate human legs. Chopsticks, mind you, that were clothed in leggings that had to have come from Gap Kids, as they don’t make that size for any self-respecting adults.

Look, I get it. Being overweight is something some people fear. I respect her for not wanting to be viewed as a storage unit for excess calories. But that’s just not human. It can’t be normal. What could cheeseburgers have possibly done to her for her to scorn them so? It’s possible to be healthy and still have something between your skin and skeleton.

And you know what, I’ll be honest. Part of me was a little crazy because of her desire to consume food in amounts doled out at internment camps, and because in light of her appearance, it seemed obsessive, unhealthy and unnecessary. And part of me was a little crazy because I, as a person who has struggled with weight issues for all of my adult life, can’t imagine reaching a point where I am so proficient in my willpower that a sad little cup of Yoplait can sustain me throughout a day to a point that I will gladly turn down an opportunity at another meal.

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About: THE STEELERS IN THE SUPERBOWL!! I’m glad that I had the presence of mind several years ago to realize that as a Dallas Cowboys fan, I would need a post-season backup, and that I chose Pittsburgh. Dallas needs to step it up next season though – I rather liked that they were the team with the most Superbowl appearances, and the win yesterday means the Steelers have tied them with 8.

Over The Hill

Today would have been my dad’s 50th birthday. As many of my readers know, my dad died 2 years ago, on November 11th, 2008. If you didn’t know, and maybe even if you did, it is at this point that you have cocked your head to the side, much like my Yorkie does when she is confused by her humans, and have “awwww”ed at me and are feeling sorry. It’s quite alright folks, such a reaction is at this point unnecessary. No need to apologize, you didn’t do it.

As many of you also know, my dad wasn’t an ordinary guy, and so remembering him and his life shouldn’t be done in ordinary ways. We didn’t have a funeral, but more of a memorial service. My dad wasn’t a religious man – he preferred to either pray in the house that Tom Landry built or to the altar of Dale Earnhardt on Sundays, rather than go to a church. The only cross he cared about was putting the crosshairs on the neck of a whitetail.  He had a simple belief that can’t always be taught by a priest – just be a good person. That was good enough for him, and it is good enough for me. So instead of a formal funeral, we just called all that knew him together to tell stories and sing a few songs, and remember the man he really was. Everybody wore camo clothes. Everybody, that is, except for dad’s cousin DW, who famously showed up in his best suit. Somehow, DW managed to miss the memo about wearing camo that the 600+ other attendees got. He was certainly the best dressed there, and will never live it down.

Anyway, dad was cremated, and his ashes scattered at my family’s ranch in front of his favorite hunting spot. The ranch was one of his favorite places.  The box that had contained his ashes was buried at our camp site, along with a few photos and mementos. A cinder block, holding up a pole upon which an empty beer can had been hung upside down marked the spot. My mom and I recently had a slightly more permanent (but only marginally classier) marker made. It’s a round stepping stone, upon which a tile mosaic was done. It’s gray with blue tile. In the center is the Dallas Cowboys star, which on either side is flanked by the dates of his birth and death. Above the star is our ranch’s logo, and below are his initials. Around the edge, on the top and around the sides . . . is a line of beer can pull tabs. In other words, it's perfect.  No ordinary man, no ordinary marker. Instead of following the typical, traditional routes, his memorial and burial were all done in a way I think he particularly would have appreciated.

The only beauty in these situations is that we are all already given the traits we need to deal with it in our own special fashions. For my family, it’s been done mostly through humor. Like, you know that old joke, “I’d rather be over the hill than buried under it”? You see where this is going, I won’t shock the conscience. The point is, we can laugh, talk, and make jokes about it, and that’s what helps us through. We may say things you think are shocking. You may be horrified by the things we think are funny.  But that’s the point – it’s our loss, it’s our grief, and we deal with it in the best way we know how.

Back To The Future

I consider a lot of odd things sometimes.

Stephen Colbert said something recently that made me both laugh and think. I don’t remember exactly how he worded it, but the sentiment is the same – what if, in millions of years, when whatever advanced society (or wasteland) that inhabits the earth excavates and finds remains of our society, they only find the fossil of Jay Leno?

The future excavators would think we were a society of persons with extraordinarily-sized chins. For some unknown reason this may be viewed as a beautiful or useful trait in a million years (perhaps we will be replaced by a superior race of rodents who will overpopulate the earth and need more facial food storage options), or they may laugh and say we look deformed as compared to their modern sense of normalcy. Either way it will totally skew the way they view the humans that were alive during the 21st century.

It makes me shudder to think what else might be mistakenly discovered. I don’t even mean that I worry about their discovery of our pollutant ways, or the killing off of animal species. What if great literature works, like those from Austen, Dickens, and the Brontes, are lost forever, and the first piece of writing found is something awful like Snooki’s recent release, or an unlicensed biography of Mel Gibson? What if wonderful, classic films and TV shows are lost, and they find reels of Girls Next Door, or the entire collection of Jenna Jameson’s pornography work? Masterpieces of modern technology could never be found, and Twinkies and the Slap-Chop could be found in their stead. It even applies to shorter passages of time – I mean, maybe the collective decade of the 80's would like to be known for more than hair bands and slap bracelets.

It also made me think, what are we wrong about? The early human Lucy, who was supposed to be such a magnificent, ground-breaking discovery – what if she was a horrific mutant of her race? Or what if she was just one of her race’s little people, or she had birth defects, or whatever. It’s possible that she really doesn’t tell us anything about mankind’s history.

Sure, I recognize that with everything in life, we take the good with the bad. But jeez, we are setting ourselves up to look like total morons. And, of course, this is all assuming that humans like ourselves won’t be populating the earth at this time, taking our history and technology with us. We could be killed off just like dinosaurs or whatever else, through disease or a meteor or an aerosol-caused hole in the ozone layer (look, when you find a pump hairspray that holds up big Miss Texas hair as well as aerosol, I will gladly switch. I use reusable shopping bags, I try not to use water bottles, and I recycle, so leave me alone). Even if mankind does persist, evolution will surely play its role. Natural selection will play a part, survival of the fittest and all. Although I think that means I have to eat people who think Jay Leno is funny.

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About:  the Rock of Ages movie currently in the works.  You guys, it's like this Broadway musical was written just for me - the soundtrack is nothing but classic 80's rock songs.  I'm thrilled to death that it's being made into a movie.  It's being done by Adam Shankman, who did Hairspray.  Casting John Travolta aside, I thought he did a great job with that, so I'm looking forward to what he does here.  I've been reading rumors that Tom Cruise is thisclose to being cast as aging 80's sex-god rocker Stacee Jaxx (ladies love him, guys want to be him, and his band hates him).  I don't share the hatred of Tom Cruise many developed after the Oprah and Matt Lauer incidents, and I actually think he would be perfect for this skeevy asshole of a role.  I just want to know if he can sing - Stacee's performances include Bon Jovi's "Wanted: Dead or Alive," "I Want To Know What Love Is" by Foreigner, and "Cum On Feel The Noize" by Quiet Riot.  Shankman damn sure better not cut any of the music, that's what makes this show so brilliant.  The only problem I have so far is that I've also seen rumors that Taylor Swift is being considered for the female lead, Sherrie.  If that goes through, I will shank Shankman, I sweartogod.  No way can she handle Sherrie's songs.  Plus she's annoying as sin.

And The Award Goes To . . .

So the Golden Globes were this past Sunday. I was unable to watch it live, but I’ve watched it since, so I figured I’d share a few thoughts. Before I begin, I’m going to give my usual warning – don’t judge. I LOVE awards shows. I don’t care if it’s all Hollywood politics. I love the dresses and outfits, I love the stars, I love watching the stars interact, I love the reactions, all of it. I know I’m not alone, but I know a lot of readers don’t give a rat’s ass who won the Golden Globe for Best Actor in a TV Series Drama – so read or don’t read, just know you’re getting another one of these when the Oscars roll around. And the Emmy’s. Maybe even the SAG Awards. It’s going to be long, and it’s going to be self-indulgent as hell, but I feel like talking about it – so deal with it.

Firstly, after reading several articles, recaps, and reviews, I would like to send a resounding “suck it” to Hollywood in general. Particularly you, Bruce Willis (to whom I would also like to say, Own Your Shit). Ricky Gervais was a freaking riot. I’ve loved him since I first saw the British version of "The Office", 5 or 6 years ago, and he remains one of my favorite comedians. Grow a sense of humor, guys, and stop taking yourselves so seriously! I have a fear that we’ll end up with another situation like after Janet Jackson’s Superbowl performance a few years ago – something happens that is deemed scandalous, and we’ll be doomed to be entertained by old unfunny white guys for 5 or 6 years until everybody stops talking about it.

How completely awesome is Robert Downey Jr.? It’s no secret I have a deep, undying love for him (second perhaps only to my shameless infatuation with Johnny Depp), but my god the man deserves it. Hands down, best single presenter of the night. Best presenting duo goes to Steve Carrell and Tina Fey, funny and with impeccable timing, as always. Or perhaps Tom Hanks and Tim Allen, because their quips at Gervais were actually clever, they were funny overall, and I basically love anything Tom Hanks does.

Speaking of presenters, I would very much like the job of deciding who presents, and with whom they present, and what they would present. I also want to know why the presenting of the Best Picture nominees was in some cases done by stars of the respective movies, and in some cases by absolutely random human beings. Do one or the other folks. For instance, with The King’s Speech – don’t tell me you couldn’t get Helena Bonham Carter’s exemplary batshit nuttery up there. And who decided Megan Fox should present for The Tourist? Because that was genius. I would absolutely love to take an epic star, like Robert De Niro, and pair him with Justin Bieber and make him present Best Foreign Feature or something equally as random. I would amuse myself to no end playing games with that. Or take a hugely important film like Inception, and get the entire cast of Twilight to present it. Same goes for the seating chart – I get that with the Globes, there is some degree of perceived “importance” involved, and studios and networks buy tables and all that. So you have your De Niro’s and Pacino’s up front, but then you get a Michelle Pfeiffer up front, and for heaven’s sake, it took Katey Sagal forty three minutes to get to the stage. I want to mix and match tables. I mean, the table with Jimmy Fallon and LL Cool J had to be having a BLAST.

I love the little things nobody really notices. I loved Tim Allen looking utterly bored because none of this really involved him. He didn’t even get a reaction shot for Toy Story 3’s big win until the end of the speech, the cameras (rightly) spent way more time on Tom Hanks. I loved Robert Pattinson staring down at Olivia Wilde’s dress, wondering how the hell he was supposed to get around it to the microphone. I love the shots of Lea Michele, who I really truly just do not care for, staring into the camera and giving the fakest act of enthusiasm and surprise for her costars, right down to wiping a tear away from noticeably dry eyes (and then losing her own award). I love the shots of stars who don’t realize that the cameras are on them and they are on air, like odd facial expressions from Peter Facinelli, or Dennis Quaid pouting because he lost to Al Pacino (come on, Dennis, you played Bill Clinton well, but Al Pacino was Dr. Kevorkian - death trumps democrat every time). I love when winners thank the presenters for their award – you realize they just handed it over to you, they didn’t actually grant you the award, right?

This isn’t really relevant to the awards . . . but is there anybody in the world creepier than Ian McShane? Good Lord. One shot of him in the audience, and it put a significant damper on the show. I really think he might actually be the Grim Reaper.

There were some awesome acceptance speeches. I’m not a big Christian Bale fan, but his was great. Jane Lynch was a riot – “I am nothing if not falsely humble” was a beautiful line. Colin Firth was surprisingly funny and clever for a Brit who occasionally comes off as very dry – triangle of man-love, Geoffrey Rush as his geisha, it was great. I love it when you can tell somebody is genuinely excited and happy, like Chris Colfer for his Supporting Actor win, and Jim Parsons and Kaley Cuoco for Parsons’ Best Actor in a TV Comedy win.

I can’t even quibble with most of the wins, given the respective nominees (I won’t discuss my thoughts on nominees, as it would take forever and I’m still bitter over some). As far as the TV awards go, I was especially thrilled for Katey Sagal (it’s about damn time "Sons of Anarchy" gets some kind of recognition, it’s easily one of the best dramas on TV) and Jim Parsons. Lead Actor in a TV Drama was a stacked category, and while I don’t think Steve Buscemi would have been my choice for the win, I totally understand it, "Boardwalk Empire" is classic award bait. I question "Glee" and Chris Colfer’s wins a bit though . . . I don’t care for the show much at all, but I really wouldn’t strictly call it a comedy. As one writer put it, “yeah, Colfer was hilarious in that episode where his dad almost died.” While Colfer has clearly been a great actor, and his genuine surprise was precious, it’s not a comedy performance, especially this season. I still would have gone with Eric Stonestreet, Cam from "Modern Family". To be fair, the Golden Globes, unlike the Emmy’s, just lumps all the supporting actors into one big award without a distinction between comedy and drama, so he didn’t really win a comedy acting award, but the show itself was nominated as a comedy. And there is no way on this green Earth you can justify to me that "Glee" has been a better comedy than "Modern Family". As for the movies, I think it’s hilarious (despite my deep love for him) that Johnny Depp had two fifths of the Best Actor in a Comedy or Musical Film nominations and still didn’t win. I haven’t seen much about Barney’s Version, but I’ve heard good things about it, so I won’t quibble with Paul Giamatti’s win over him. And furthermore, I’m sure Depp is thrilled that while this prestigious awards show is airing, during which he is nominated for two acting awards and a couple of movies featuring him are nominated as well, commercials continuously air pimping his new movie, a cheesy animated flick in which he voices a lizard. Colin Firth and Natalie Portman’s wins were no surprises, and absolutely well deserved. The Social Network’s win for Best Motion Picture Drama is the big shocker for me. I really thought it would go to Inception, with Black Swan as the dark horse, or even The King’s Speech, which seemed like a pretty clear favorite for the Hollywood Foreign Press Association (and myself).

All that recap, and I didn’t even mention Sandra Bullock’s BANGS, Natalie Portman’s rose, or January Jones being January Jones (and she wonders why nobody takes her seriously). All in all, I thought it was a great example of an awards show. Most presenters and winners were fun and funny – Michael Douglas even made a fun off-the-cuff cancer quip. I look forward to the Oscars (nominations out on January 25th), especially since the Globes are considered a kind of precursor or sneak preview as to how things are likely to go down. The Oscars don’t distinguish between comedy and drama, so it’s interesting to see which respective winners beat the other out. But the Oscars are never as much fun as the Globes . . . they’re taken way more seriously, the actors don’t get to drink through them, and they aren’t being hosted by Ricky Gervais.

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About: the fact that I only had to buy 3 textbooks for this semester, and one only cost $40. The other two were more expensive and much larger, but hey, it’s a far cry from the days of 10 books for 4 classes at like $872. It takes little to excite me these days.

I Promise I'm Smart

I would like to start by saying that I blame today’s activities on my new iPad.

One of the games that I have downloaded and subsequently become addicted to is Plants vs. Zombies. If you are unfamiliar, it is a game where you have to plant various plant weapons to fight off a horde of oncoming zombies with various powers, to keep them from entering your house. If your horticultural onslaught is insufficient to keep the zombies at bay, they eat through your plants, enter your home, and eat your brains. I have suffered this virtual misfortune once or twice, and thus I blame the zombies for my lack of brain power lately.

I started my spring semester at UT today. I woke up thoroughly displeased over it. My allergies are bothering me, the shingles are very uncomfortable, I’m not happy with my schedule, and it’s cold and nasty outside (weather only fit for staying in bed). So, I was really annoyed by the idea of going to school, and not happy to be venturing out at ALL.

I got to campus, and marveled that there were still people walking and riding bikes in this disgusting weather. I entered the parking garage, and my mood lifted a little when I scored an excellent spot – right next to the walkway to the law building, and on a level where I would be able to go directly out, without having to go up a level to go back down. I was a little confused by this, because I had assumed that getting to campus in the middle of the day would surely mean parking on the roof, but I wrote it off and rationalized that the garage emptied after morning classes.

I trudged the short distance to the law building in the awful weather conditions, and couldn’t help but notice there weren’t many students around outside or in the halls. I decided 12:30 was an odd time for a class to start, and most people would be downstairs in the café or in class.

I reached the assigned classroom, and noticed that it was dark inside. I went in and chose a seat – there were plenty to pick from, as the room was empty. This worried me, as class was 8 minutes away from starting. I knew I was in the correct place, I had double checked. I pulled out the phone and shot off a frantic text to my good friend who was taking the class with me, to make sure she was still in the class and I was in the right spot. She responded, saying that yes she was in the class, but didn’t classes start on the 18th?

Shit.

I whipped out my computer, and pulled up the academic calendar. Sure enough, next to the 18th, it said “classes begin.” Today is not the 18th. Today is the 10th.

Damn.

For someone who presents herself as being reasonably intelligent, I am a complete, utter dumbass.

My previously un-accessed brain went into overdrive. I covered quickly, responding that yes classes did begin on the 18th, and I was checking to make sure she was still taking the class, since I was considering changing my schedule. Then, shortly after having a discussion with her over which classes to switch around, I realized my cover-up was futile. I left my mom’s house to come back to Austin yesterday, telling her that I had to start classes today. I really didn’t have the energy to start up a clever ruse with her to act as though I were in class all week. And I knew that if I admitted what I’d done to her, I may as well blog about it and admit it to the world, because I can guaran-damn-tee you, there will be NO living this down at my house.

I will say I am in a much better mood now. It’s a great feeling to know I have another whole week ahead of free time. I had a lovely day hitting up Sephora and going to see The King’s Speech (which was just as excellent a movie as it has been hyped to be). And I really needed to come back to Austin anyway, to water the plants, get my mail, and pay my bills. But still. I really have no idea what I was thinking, why on Earth I thought classes started today. All day I’ve been shaking my head and going back and forth between between laughing at myself and smacking myself. Even with all the odd things I noticed around campus, it never occurred to me that I was there on the wrong day. Careful inspection of my past behavior doesn’t show me that I ever really looked at the academic calendar. I don’t know where I got the idea that classes started today. I really and truly cannot figure out what the hell went through my mind that I cut short my vacation by a week, invaded my doctor’s weekend by calling her to get a prescription for shingles before going back to class Monday, and was in a foul mood for a day or so over the prospect of starting school up again. I am left with no explanation, other than the zombies ate my brains.

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About: The new ABC show, Off The Map. I shouldn’t be. I HATE Grey’s Anatomy, and the only good thing about Private Practice is Taye Diggs (hey-o!), so I really shouldn’t get my hopes up about a third Shonda Rhimes show. But the Off The Map bastards went and cast Zach Gilford in one of the main roles. With the sad, sad end of Friday Night Lights looming, I suppose I’m desperate to keep the cast on my TV screen. I do love that damn little Matt Saracen. I tried to watch Private Practice on the grounds that Taye Diggs is Taye Diggs, but that failed miserably. And, ironically enough, the only full episodes of Grey's Anatomy that I've watched are the ones that Kyle Chandler, Friday Night Lights' Coach Taylor, guest starred on.  I should know better than to pick a show purely on the grounds of one cast member (especially a show put out by Shonda Rhimes), but here I am programming it into my DVR anyway!

A Pox On You

In my last post, I mentioned that I am a woman who possesses little to no shame.  My, how quickly I was forced to eat those words. 

I have shingles. 

At first glance, this is nothing to be embarrassed by.  Just a big ol’ rash and some pain and discomfort.  Nor, now experiencing it, is it anything to laugh at.  But really . . . it’s kind of funny. 

You see, you can only get shingles if you’ve already had chicken pox.  Chicken pox, and thus shingles, is a form of the herpes virus.  And so, to combat this viral outbreak, my doctor (god bless her for calling in a scrip for me on a weekend) prescribed me Valtrex. 

 It’s ok.  I’ve been giggling over it since Saturday. 

Of course she’s the doctor and she knows what she’s doing and this is totally the normal medicine to prescribe . . . but when one sees Valtrex, one doesn’t think shingles or chicken pox, one thinks of the beautiful commercials featuring lovely people who can now ride bicycles and paddle a canoe thanks to Valtrex taming their genital herpes outbreaks. 

And naturally, the wonderful pharmacist who quickly and sympathetically served up the big blue pills for me just before closing on a Saturday evening was the mother of a friend I had grown up with.  She knew what was going on, but I still felt the need to continuously mention that it was shingles I was seeking medicine for.  I also quickly developed a paranoid fear that everybody in HEB magically grew the ability to see through paper bags and saw me hustling out with a bottle full of Valtrex.  I felt the need to either wear a shingles badge or start shouting “Shingles!!  I have medication for SHINGLES, people, no genital herpes here!!  All medical issues are above the belt and not sexually transmitted!!” 

The funniest part is the thick cluster of spots dead center on my abdomen, a couple of inches above my belly button.  It looks like I can give you the Care Bear Stare . . . and give you herpes. 

Sarcasmo

Currently Excited About:  Dermaplast.  Yep, all other excitement in my life has paled in comparison to this numbing pain killer spray.