I'm going in for a consultation on lap band surgery tomorrow. I've been struggling with weight for at least 22 years. Even when I lose weight, it comes back with a vengeance and the only benefit, regardless of the yo-yo, is that my boobs manage to get and stay bigger. However, it's only a matter of time before they're flap-jacks down to my waist. And by time, I mean probably twenty years or so, but still.
So, I spoke with HLC's mom who had the surgery, and she's all for it. And, unlike my mom, I don't feel judged by her. She has true empathy, and similar experiences with her own mother and her own weight battle. So, what the hell.
Here's the problem. I'm probably not fat enough to have the surgery. How ridiculous is that? You need to have a BMI of 40+. Me? I'm at 35.7. If your BMI is 35-40, you have to have one or two obesity related co-morbidity factors. Here are some of them and here's why I probably won't be considered to have any of them.
1. High blood pressure: Despite my best efforts at smoking a pack a day, I have LOW blood pressure.
2. Sleep apnea: Sleep study proved that I don't have sleep apnea (yet failed to discover anything related to my insomnia - thanks Trinity)
3. Prediabetes: Nope, completely normal blood sugar.
4. High cholestrol: again, despite my best efforts, normal cholestrol.
5. Asthma: Nope, again, despite my best efforts. I grew up in a polluted power plant/coal mine town and, again, I love the Marbs, but still no asthma.
6. Back pain: Yes, but related to my three-car pile up in April.
7. Joint pain: Yes, but related to my BROKEN ankle that was diagnosed 13 years after the fact and my knee surgery, both from ski injuries. And, unfortunately, I did not fall because I was too fat.
8. Thyroid: completely normal (much to my mother's disappointment, both times I've had it tested in my life)
9. Depression: Not weight-related. Just life-related, and probably genetic.
10. Maybe the fact that my grandmother was a trainwreck of a human speciment might help. Heart disease, stroke and diabetes, along with an anxiety disorder. She's dead, of course (based on the above), but she hasn't seemed to have passed along any of those traits to her children.
11 My dad has high blood pressure but, as I indicated, but he's so type A that I don't know how he couldn't. And, who knows, maybe if I didn't smoke, my blood pressure would be so low I'd be dead. See No. 1, supra.
12. Gastric Reflux: Maybe, but I've already been diagnosed with an ulcer (I can't imagine why).
13. Anxiety disorder: check but, again, not weight related.
14. Insomnia: check, but not on the list of obesity-related factors.
Unfortunately, as my doctor told me a few years ago, with somewhat astonishment, I am "remarkably healthy." I just can't get control over the issue, and I'd like some assistance that's not in the form of a christmas gift of LA Weightloss. Yeah, I'm still a little bitter.
The downside is that I would have to give up food, diet coke and smoking. Those are all serious quality of life issues for me. I would love to give up the food, and I accept that the smoking has to stop. but the diet coke? really?
Here's some more info if you're curious.
http://www.lapband.com/get_informed/about_lapband/
I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Saturday, June 21, 2008
I'm fat. It's that simple, really. Just plain fat.
So fat, I don't even like to look at myself in the mirror anymore. So fat that I have a hard time imagining that anyone would want to touch me, much less kiss me or seriously consider dating me. So fat that I don't even like going out much anymore. You can put lipstick on a pig, but...Anyway, the bottom line is that I am so fat that I am no longer cute. And, as each year passes, I feel like I've lost another battle. I'm going to go through my lifetime chronogoly, with snippets of soul-crushing experiences that have made me who I am today: fat and with a very poor body image and poor outlook on my health. Even my family (especially my family) feels as though I've given up. I probably have. I was relatively thin (size 12-14) when I moved to Minneaolis, and then somewhat slimmer when I moved to Minot. And then it was a free-for-alll.
The long and the short of it is this: I've lost the war. And it's time to wage one of my own. Wiht a ltitle luck and some as yet to be uncovered serious medical concerns, I should be a shoo-in. I may have a chance to control my own destiny and, by using this blog as its intended purpose, I'll chronologically go through the mini-mmovie films of my past that play on a almost-continuously loop day in and day out.
The long and the short of it is this: I've lost the war. And it's time to wage one of my own. Wiht a ltitle luck and some as yet to be uncovered serious medical concerns, I should be a shoo-in. I may have a chance to control my own destiny and, by using this blog as its intended purpose, I'll chronologically go through the mini-mmovie films of my past that play on a almost-continuously loop day in and day out.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Ten Things I've done in Ten Days
1. Turned 30 and survived without so much as hint of female pattern baldness.
2. Looked on, completely horrified, as Huxley ate cat poop.
3. Stopped him from going back for more.
4. Spent an obsessive amount of time trying to track down the source of the nasty cat pee smell in my house. After a good hour or two, I deduced it was the litter box. And only the litter box. My nose hurts from trying to sniff out the source. Will dismantle and disinfect electronic litter box tomorrow. Decided just to smoke and open windows in the meantime.
5. Overslept for a networking meeting at 7 a.m. this morning. No idea why I even bothered to sign up. Rule No. 1: Know your limitations.
6. Made this list.
7. Wore brown flip flops with black sweater. Movie theaters are dark. And I've clearly given up on myself.
8. Fired a client for the first time ever.
9. Decided that it won't be obvious that the lawn needs to be mowed until after I move out in two weeks.
10. Curled my hair like it was 1998. see No. 1.
2. Looked on, completely horrified, as Huxley ate cat poop.
3. Stopped him from going back for more.
4. Spent an obsessive amount of time trying to track down the source of the nasty cat pee smell in my house. After a good hour or two, I deduced it was the litter box. And only the litter box. My nose hurts from trying to sniff out the source. Will dismantle and disinfect electronic litter box tomorrow. Decided just to smoke and open windows in the meantime.
5. Overslept for a networking meeting at 7 a.m. this morning. No idea why I even bothered to sign up. Rule No. 1: Know your limitations.
6. Made this list.
7. Wore brown flip flops with black sweater. Movie theaters are dark. And I've clearly given up on myself.
8. Fired a client for the first time ever.
9. Decided that it won't be obvious that the lawn needs to be mowed until after I move out in two weeks.
10. Curled my hair like it was 1998. see No. 1.
Monday, May 5, 2008
And the winner is....
Well, I have about 22 minutes left of smoking. And, it looks like I'm not really going to quit. The probable ulcer and the job stress and the sky stress and the fact that I really, really like it makes quitting a nay. So, pay each other appropriately.
Thirty sucks. Today sucked especially. I had a hearing in the Magic City and I was worried about getting shot in the face for at least part of the time. Managed to make it out safely.
HLC and Tiki planned a great event for me on Saturday. We went to the casino. And I threw up all over the lobby. And I wasn't even drunk. Think it has to do with a whiskey coke and the probable ulcer. It was awesome. Here's how it went.
Sour Girl excuses herself from the black jack table and walks to nearest bathroom.
Nearest bathroom closed for cleaning.
Sour Girl walks to lobby to next nearest bathroom.
Sour Girl starts to gag and covers mouth with hand.
Sour Girl projectile vomits all over floor. In front of at least 10 people.
Sour Girl walks to front desk.
SG: "Yeah, I just threw up. And I'm really sorry. You might want to call someone to clean that up."
Front Desk Guy: [total look of disgust]. "You need to tell housekeeping."
SG: "Yeah, right. Normally, that's what I would do but, see, I have to go throw up again." [walks off to bathroom with hand over mouth again and barely makes it to the toilet.]
After about 20 minutes in the bathroom, I managed to stop throwing up, clean most of the puke off of myself and my clothes, flip my tank from front to back (so the wet spot wouldn't show out the front of my cardigan) and find my friends to join them in the limo for the ride home.
So, I was totally awesome. In a completely different way. Aside from the puking, though, it seems as though a fun time was had by all. Birthday girl, included.
I need less stress. Really.
Thirty sucks. Today sucked especially. I had a hearing in the Magic City and I was worried about getting shot in the face for at least part of the time. Managed to make it out safely.
HLC and Tiki planned a great event for me on Saturday. We went to the casino. And I threw up all over the lobby. And I wasn't even drunk. Think it has to do with a whiskey coke and the probable ulcer. It was awesome. Here's how it went.
Sour Girl excuses herself from the black jack table and walks to nearest bathroom.
Nearest bathroom closed for cleaning.
Sour Girl walks to lobby to next nearest bathroom.
Sour Girl starts to gag and covers mouth with hand.
Sour Girl projectile vomits all over floor. In front of at least 10 people.
Sour Girl walks to front desk.
SG: "Yeah, I just threw up. And I'm really sorry. You might want to call someone to clean that up."
Front Desk Guy: [total look of disgust]. "You need to tell housekeeping."
SG: "Yeah, right. Normally, that's what I would do but, see, I have to go throw up again." [walks off to bathroom with hand over mouth again and barely makes it to the toilet.]
After about 20 minutes in the bathroom, I managed to stop throwing up, clean most of the puke off of myself and my clothes, flip my tank from front to back (so the wet spot wouldn't show out the front of my cardigan) and find my friends to join them in the limo for the ride home.
So, I was totally awesome. In a completely different way. Aside from the puking, though, it seems as though a fun time was had by all. Birthday girl, included.
I need less stress. Really.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Burned.
So, Sky called this afternoon, after a very long weekend of silence. Unfortunately, he wasn't dead or severely injured in a car accident. Nope, he was actually avoiding me because he wanted to avoid the fallout that would happen when he told me his wife was moving back into the house. The one he's divorcing. That wife. He knew I would stop talking to him if he told me, thus the four long days of silence.
He still wanted to be friends. And he meant it. He's the only person I've ever known to utter that phrase with sincerity. In pleading his case, he said that I have a lot of male friends, and he's not sure why he couldn't be one of them. Yeah. We aren't friends. We never were, and we certainly aren't going to be in the future. As Marky Mark once said, if you're not in it to win it, then get the hell out. I command you to dance, now feel the vibration. OK, too far. Anyway, you get my gist.
When confronted with my comment that we aren't friends and the point of us talking was because I thought there was potential, he back-pedaled saying that, if we weren't friends, he wasn't sure why we talked so much (every day for about four months). After all, he is married, hasn't seen me in years and we live far away. Um, maybe because I love him, and he asked me if we were a possibility and we approached this whole thing with the idea that, maybe, we'd some day be together. That's why. So, I told him to fuck himself for saying that this was all my fault and I should have known better. True, I should have. But it wasn't just me. Married men who are staying with their wives don't email people they've never met to plan a surprise visit for my birthday. Those men don't talk about the future. Those men don't buy me thoughtful gifts. Those men don't call every day, multiple times a day. They don't talk about moving to the frozen tundra. And so on and so forth.
So, I spent half the day devastated. And angry. And crying.
And then he called back a few hours later. He sounded sheepish and asked if I wanted to hear something "funny." Indeed, I did, as I was in need of a good laugh. Turns out, his wife is not moving in and, in fact, they are no longer reconciling. He acted as though I'd think that was good news. I said it was actually pretty funny. Because now he's left with none. He said he felt stupid. I said that, strangely, I knew exactly how he felt. With quite a bit of sarcasm and irony included. He then launched into the whole "friends" thing and it would be a shame if we no longer talked because he really liked talking to me.
I then told him to fuck himself for suggesting that the onus for my feeling bad was all on me. He couldn't understand why I wouldn't talk to him if "we" were off the table. Not to say "we" is off the table, but, you know, just hypothetically. That's when I pointed out that I'm not 19. I don't talk to ex-boyfriends or hook up with them, as it's a waste of time. I certainly don't entertain the thought of them moving here or driving 1000 miles to see me. What would be the point? I have enough friends. What I'm lacking is mate. And, I'd prefer one that isn't in the form of a mallet I keep hitting myself with over the head. Or a knife I keep stabbing into my heart. Or, well, you get the point.
Right or wrong, I can't be friends with him with the feelings I have for him if he doesn't have the same feelings for me. That makes me a jealous, vindictive person but, you know what, at least I'm honest about it. I can't suppress that and I can't be devastated every time he does this or finds a new girl to fall in love with. Why would I subject myself to that? Would I want to hear about him talk about other girls? I asked what he wanted me to do. Perhaps I could hook him up with my friends, find him a good wife? He didn't appreciate that sentiment either.
Anyway, he was exasperated by the end of that 2nd phone call, saying "I've really made a fucking mess of things." Yes, yes you have. I guarantee you he wishes he would have delayed that first phone call to me, so I would have been none the wiser.
Admittedly, I feel much better after the second conversation. Why? I'm not sure, although I think it has to do with a conversation I had with Sky five years ago. In the middle of a fight, during one of our multiple "on again" periods, he asked me what I wanted. I told him I wanted him to feel as badly as I did. I don't think he feels as bad as I do. But, I think he's getting an idea of what that might feel like. Or, at least I can hope.
Now, I know what you're all thinking. And, trust me, I'm thinking the same thing. Shame on me for this. Really. But I really wanted to drink the kool-aid and prove that, in fact, it really is just kool-aid. Poison-free and rather enjoyable. I wanted to believe that it's possible to get what I need and what I want, all rolled up into one Dolce & Gabanna wrapped package.
Nope. Turns out sometimes shit is really just shit. No matter how much you want to believe it's really a boyfriend, fly it up here, and spend your 30th birthday with it.
Down with love.
He still wanted to be friends. And he meant it. He's the only person I've ever known to utter that phrase with sincerity. In pleading his case, he said that I have a lot of male friends, and he's not sure why he couldn't be one of them. Yeah. We aren't friends. We never were, and we certainly aren't going to be in the future. As Marky Mark once said, if you're not in it to win it, then get the hell out. I command you to dance, now feel the vibration. OK, too far. Anyway, you get my gist.
When confronted with my comment that we aren't friends and the point of us talking was because I thought there was potential, he back-pedaled saying that, if we weren't friends, he wasn't sure why we talked so much (every day for about four months). After all, he is married, hasn't seen me in years and we live far away. Um, maybe because I love him, and he asked me if we were a possibility and we approached this whole thing with the idea that, maybe, we'd some day be together. That's why. So, I told him to fuck himself for saying that this was all my fault and I should have known better. True, I should have. But it wasn't just me. Married men who are staying with their wives don't email people they've never met to plan a surprise visit for my birthday. Those men don't talk about the future. Those men don't buy me thoughtful gifts. Those men don't call every day, multiple times a day. They don't talk about moving to the frozen tundra. And so on and so forth.
So, I spent half the day devastated. And angry. And crying.
And then he called back a few hours later. He sounded sheepish and asked if I wanted to hear something "funny." Indeed, I did, as I was in need of a good laugh. Turns out, his wife is not moving in and, in fact, they are no longer reconciling. He acted as though I'd think that was good news. I said it was actually pretty funny. Because now he's left with none. He said he felt stupid. I said that, strangely, I knew exactly how he felt. With quite a bit of sarcasm and irony included. He then launched into the whole "friends" thing and it would be a shame if we no longer talked because he really liked talking to me.
I then told him to fuck himself for suggesting that the onus for my feeling bad was all on me. He couldn't understand why I wouldn't talk to him if "we" were off the table. Not to say "we" is off the table, but, you know, just hypothetically. That's when I pointed out that I'm not 19. I don't talk to ex-boyfriends or hook up with them, as it's a waste of time. I certainly don't entertain the thought of them moving here or driving 1000 miles to see me. What would be the point? I have enough friends. What I'm lacking is mate. And, I'd prefer one that isn't in the form of a mallet I keep hitting myself with over the head. Or a knife I keep stabbing into my heart. Or, well, you get the point.
Right or wrong, I can't be friends with him with the feelings I have for him if he doesn't have the same feelings for me. That makes me a jealous, vindictive person but, you know what, at least I'm honest about it. I can't suppress that and I can't be devastated every time he does this or finds a new girl to fall in love with. Why would I subject myself to that? Would I want to hear about him talk about other girls? I asked what he wanted me to do. Perhaps I could hook him up with my friends, find him a good wife? He didn't appreciate that sentiment either.
Anyway, he was exasperated by the end of that 2nd phone call, saying "I've really made a fucking mess of things." Yes, yes you have. I guarantee you he wishes he would have delayed that first phone call to me, so I would have been none the wiser.
Admittedly, I feel much better after the second conversation. Why? I'm not sure, although I think it has to do with a conversation I had with Sky five years ago. In the middle of a fight, during one of our multiple "on again" periods, he asked me what I wanted. I told him I wanted him to feel as badly as I did. I don't think he feels as bad as I do. But, I think he's getting an idea of what that might feel like. Or, at least I can hope.
Now, I know what you're all thinking. And, trust me, I'm thinking the same thing. Shame on me for this. Really. But I really wanted to drink the kool-aid and prove that, in fact, it really is just kool-aid. Poison-free and rather enjoyable. I wanted to believe that it's possible to get what I need and what I want, all rolled up into one Dolce & Gabanna wrapped package.
Nope. Turns out sometimes shit is really just shit. No matter how much you want to believe it's really a boyfriend, fly it up here, and spend your 30th birthday with it.
Down with love.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Just phoning it in.
So, today was a big day. It is my two year anniversary from getting canned by Evil Spawn and His Incompetent Twin, P.C. And, as luck (fate) would have it, I had a meeting with my mentor. It was an opportunity to tell me everything I'm doing wrong. This was not relayed ahead of time, although I assumed it would be what it was because, well, I'm me. Anyway, we went to the bar and he pulled out a list of complaints written down on a piece of notebook paper. They are listed in order of importance and level of concern, with 1 being the greatest concern.
1. Facetime. My commitment to the M has been questioned because I'm not there enough. It seems that the staff and some of the attorneys (yes, I said staff) doesn't believe that I put in enough time to make them feel as though I really want to work there. So, to make everyone feel better about themselves, I need to be there from 8:45 a.m. to 5:30 every day, and no leaving for anything in the middle.
I pointed out that I've been doing "lawyer" things when I've been out of the office and Partner said that he knew that, but I maybe shouldn't do those things for awhile. Seriously. Apparently, it was a big mistake for me to go to the state bar association events that our firm encouraged us to go to. I've been to Siouxland twice in the last month and, apparently, that has ruffled some feathers because I'm galavanting across the state to make it look like both me and the firm are involved in the legal community. I was actually rear-ended on my way to one of those events, but still I went.
Which brings me to my next "excuse" for being out of the office: I was rear-ended. This resulted in several doctor appointments that had to happen before 5 p.m.
Oh, yeah, and I was out of the office for my TRIAL. That I won.
The Partner then said it's probably just the perception and it doesn't really matter to anyone that I'm actually working when I'm gone. Which is why I shouldn't do any bar activities or CLEs (i.e. education that I need to be a better attorney and I'm ethically obligated to attend) and things of that nature for at least 6-7 months.
So, because I'm out of the office working, the M questions whether I want to work there because I'm gone so frequently. Working.
2. I don't ask the partners for help.
Now, you think this would come after I screwed something up and did so because I didn't have the expertise to handle it myself. Nope, nothing wrong with my quality of work. The partners just think I should, as an associate, need more help. I'm supposed to ask partners who have never spent one day practicing family law for help. With my family law cases.
Here's the problem: I have asked for help multiple times. And I rarely get it. Partner is my mentor and, no shit, this is what happens when I ask for help.
Me: [timid knock on his door] Do you have 5 minutes for me?
Partner: No.
Me: [blank stare, unsure what to do next].
Partner: [sigh] I'll find you in a few minutes to see what you need.
Me: OK, that'd be great.
Partner: [never to be seen again].
He did say that it's his fault that he isn't more available, but that I need to make him listen to me and make him help me, even when he's too busy. So, apparently, the conversation should be as follows:
Me: [kick open office door and storm in] I need some help.
Partner: [surprised look on his face] No.
Me: No, I'm not fucking around this time. I need some fucking help.
Partner: No, I really don't have time.
Me: [sitting in chair] I'm not leaving until I get some help.
Partner: I am in the middle of something. I will come find you.
Me: I'm not falling for that one again. I'll just sit here until you're ready to deal with me.
Partner: Get out!
Me: No!
Partner: [calls security]
3. Time
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking they're upset about my billable hours. Nope. Wrong. I need to have my time entered before the end of the month. Before the bill cut off. Before I even bill it, maybe. See, we have a fee entry cut-off. No bills go out before then. So, me being logical, I don't enter my time into the computer program (I keep track on paper during the month) until the day before it's due. Apparently, this is not the right way to do things. I'm not entirely sure of the point of this, but it pisses them off.
4. Communication & Deadlines
I need to communicate with partners better, especially if I'm going to miss a deadline on one of their projects.
That's great, except (1) I don't do projects for other attorneys and, (2) I haven't missed a deadline.
I think, in all honesty, this is a firm-wide problem partners have with associates, so it was lumped in with all the other shit just as an FYI.
So, the bottom line, is that I love my job. Love it, love it, love it, love it.
I'm not sure what to do about court appearances. Maybe I can phone it in. Just like I've apparently been doing all along.
1. Facetime. My commitment to the M has been questioned because I'm not there enough. It seems that the staff and some of the attorneys (yes, I said staff) doesn't believe that I put in enough time to make them feel as though I really want to work there. So, to make everyone feel better about themselves, I need to be there from 8:45 a.m. to 5:30 every day, and no leaving for anything in the middle.
I pointed out that I've been doing "lawyer" things when I've been out of the office and Partner said that he knew that, but I maybe shouldn't do those things for awhile. Seriously. Apparently, it was a big mistake for me to go to the state bar association events that our firm encouraged us to go to. I've been to Siouxland twice in the last month and, apparently, that has ruffled some feathers because I'm galavanting across the state to make it look like both me and the firm are involved in the legal community. I was actually rear-ended on my way to one of those events, but still I went.
Which brings me to my next "excuse" for being out of the office: I was rear-ended. This resulted in several doctor appointments that had to happen before 5 p.m.
Oh, yeah, and I was out of the office for my TRIAL. That I won.
The Partner then said it's probably just the perception and it doesn't really matter to anyone that I'm actually working when I'm gone. Which is why I shouldn't do any bar activities or CLEs (i.e. education that I need to be a better attorney and I'm ethically obligated to attend) and things of that nature for at least 6-7 months.
So, because I'm out of the office working, the M questions whether I want to work there because I'm gone so frequently. Working.
2. I don't ask the partners for help.
Now, you think this would come after I screwed something up and did so because I didn't have the expertise to handle it myself. Nope, nothing wrong with my quality of work. The partners just think I should, as an associate, need more help. I'm supposed to ask partners who have never spent one day practicing family law for help. With my family law cases.
Here's the problem: I have asked for help multiple times. And I rarely get it. Partner is my mentor and, no shit, this is what happens when I ask for help.
Me: [timid knock on his door] Do you have 5 minutes for me?
Partner: No.
Me: [blank stare, unsure what to do next].
Partner: [sigh] I'll find you in a few minutes to see what you need.
Me: OK, that'd be great.
Partner: [never to be seen again].
He did say that it's his fault that he isn't more available, but that I need to make him listen to me and make him help me, even when he's too busy. So, apparently, the conversation should be as follows:
Me: [kick open office door and storm in] I need some help.
Partner: [surprised look on his face] No.
Me: No, I'm not fucking around this time. I need some fucking help.
Partner: No, I really don't have time.
Me: [sitting in chair] I'm not leaving until I get some help.
Partner: I am in the middle of something. I will come find you.
Me: I'm not falling for that one again. I'll just sit here until you're ready to deal with me.
Partner: Get out!
Me: No!
Partner: [calls security]
3. Time
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking they're upset about my billable hours. Nope. Wrong. I need to have my time entered before the end of the month. Before the bill cut off. Before I even bill it, maybe. See, we have a fee entry cut-off. No bills go out before then. So, me being logical, I don't enter my time into the computer program (I keep track on paper during the month) until the day before it's due. Apparently, this is not the right way to do things. I'm not entirely sure of the point of this, but it pisses them off.
4. Communication & Deadlines
I need to communicate with partners better, especially if I'm going to miss a deadline on one of their projects.
That's great, except (1) I don't do projects for other attorneys and, (2) I haven't missed a deadline.
I think, in all honesty, this is a firm-wide problem partners have with associates, so it was lumped in with all the other shit just as an FYI.
So, the bottom line, is that I love my job. Love it, love it, love it, love it.
I'm not sure what to do about court appearances. Maybe I can phone it in. Just like I've apparently been doing all along.
Monday, April 14, 2008
The Bride is Coming! The Bride is Coming!
OK, so HLC is the latest victim of the marriage scam. We need to help her pick out her shoes for the wedding. Yea!!!! This is my favorite part of the blog. Anyway, please submit your comments and preferences so we can help HLC pick out the right glass slipper.
Likes:
Door Number 1: Alfani "Nicki" Evening Sandal
Likes.
Dislikes
Where you might find me on a Friday night: Macy's.
Door Number 2: Women's Coloriffics Carmen
Where I'm doing my walk of shame on a Sunday morning. Amazon.com
Door Number 3: Women's Coloriffics Desire
Amazon.com
Door Number 4: Nina Fiore Bridal Shoes
http://www.bellissimabridalshoes.com/
Door Number 5: Liz René Addison Bridal Shoes
http://www.bellissimabridalshoes.com/
Door Number 6: Blue Tux Nicole Bridal Shoes
Door Number 7: Touch-ups Amy Bridal Shoes
Door 8 Grace Aria Bridal Shoes
Door Number 9 Touch-Ups Peyton Bridal Shoes
Likes:
Door Number 1: Alfani "Nicki" Evening Sandal
Likes.
Dislikes
Where you might find me on a Friday night: Macy's.
Door Number 2: Women's Coloriffics Carmen
Where I'm doing my walk of shame on a Sunday morning. Amazon.com
Door Number 3: Women's Coloriffics Desire
Amazon.com
Door Number 4: Nina Fiore Bridal Shoes
http://www.bellissimabridalshoes.com/
Door Number 5: Liz René Addison Bridal Shoes
http://www.bellissimabridalshoes.com/
Door Number 6: Blue Tux Nicole Bridal Shoes
Door Number 7: Touch-ups Amy Bridal Shoes
Door 8 Grace Aria Bridal Shoes
Door Number 9 Touch-Ups Peyton Bridal Shoes
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Bush League
I was on a panel today that spoke to law students in Siouxland. There were seven attorneys on the panel. And about 20 law students showed up, out of 150-200. That is absolutely unacceptable. The dean apologized, saying they had "program fatigue." Yeah, well, I have life fatigue, but I hauled my ass 250 miles out there to give them young lawyer advice. He further explained they just had a program last week, as if to say that two one-hour programs two weeks in a row was a lot to ask of them. Yeah, you know what, I was at that one, too. And only about 40 students showed up to that one.
I also spoke to the lawyer liason for the mentor/mentee program between the state bar association and the Siouxland law school today. He asked if I'd had much contact with my mentee. I explained that I emailed, she emailed back, I emailed again, and that was it. He told me that seemed to be everyone's experience. HLC's mentee didn't even return her email. I, too, have heard that at least two other lawyers received no response at all.
I don't know what's wrong with these law students, but they have a serious problem if they think they can blow of members of the bar and still land great jobs. We have the smallest bar in the country. And they're at a tier 4 law school. The arrogance of the students at that place is astounding. It might be the only game in town, but that's not enough. They fail to understand that they are competing for a very limited number of jobs, all within a very connected network of firms, with people like me, HLC, and my co-worker, Haley, who all came back to the state after getting edumucated elsewhere. Haley went to Yale. HLC and I did not, but we went to better schools than the one in Siouxland.
To hear it from their side, we swooped in and took "their" jobs. This they bitch about, complaining that it's patently unfair because they've paid their dues by attending school in state. Um, I'm sorry. I spent 18 years in this shithole before I came back to get a job. So did HLC. So did Haley. And, Haley, HLC and I did not have the opportunity to network with, or clerk for, attorneys at the state's flagship firms during law school. We all came in cold, with nothing more than the strength of our resumes and a local hometown, long since abandoned, behind us. Yet, we took three of the most coveted jobs in the state. Actually, four, if you count two of my three jobs here. Not surprisingly, the Magic City job I just left behind is monumentally uncoveted.
They can't beat us on the education. But they should be able to beat us, hands down, on the networking side of things. And, let's be honest, the second is more important, in most cases. Yet, they still blow it off. I don't know what's going on up there, but it just doesn't seem good. They can't write, they don't know the law, and they have a grossly inflated image of their abilities and strengths. They can't even submit resumes that are free of typos.
It's entirely possible the brain drain has virtually stripped the state of an entire generation of legal talent. I don't notice it so much with the attorneys that have been practicing for 15+ years. Whether that's a product of experience or an indication of a decline in the quality of Siouxland's program, I can't say. I do know this, though. If we had a better law school, we'd have better lawyers. Once the talent is lured out by better educational opportunities, it's extremely difficult to draw them back in. I'm here due to an series of accidental missteps. It wasn't ever my plan to come back. Ever. But that's a different topic altogether.
I need to issue a disclaimer. I know I sound arrogant by writing this post. Admittedly, I am not F. Lee Bailey, for two reasons: (1) I am not nearly as talented as him, and (2) I have not been disbarred. However, I have gone head to head with many a Siouxland grad, and worked beside them, and I am confident that my law school education was of higher quality. Am I smarter? Maybe. But you can be the smartest person in the room and still be handicapped by your education. I have also worked with HLC and Haley, and it's also clear that their skills and abilities are much greater than those of Siouxland grads of similar vintage.
Dear Dean of Siouxland Law: For the love of god, please put some effort into creating a better law school. I get tired of practicing against ill-prepared, arrogant lawyers. I can't take another thirty years of this, especially when you consider the good lawyers will only be around for another 10-15 years. I'd rather enjoy having a worthy opponent almost every time instead of every once in awhile. And, as is obvious by reading this post, I could use some humility by being beaten by one every now and again, too.
I also spoke to the lawyer liason for the mentor/mentee program between the state bar association and the Siouxland law school today. He asked if I'd had much contact with my mentee. I explained that I emailed, she emailed back, I emailed again, and that was it. He told me that seemed to be everyone's experience. HLC's mentee didn't even return her email. I, too, have heard that at least two other lawyers received no response at all.
I don't know what's wrong with these law students, but they have a serious problem if they think they can blow of members of the bar and still land great jobs. We have the smallest bar in the country. And they're at a tier 4 law school. The arrogance of the students at that place is astounding. It might be the only game in town, but that's not enough. They fail to understand that they are competing for a very limited number of jobs, all within a very connected network of firms, with people like me, HLC, and my co-worker, Haley, who all came back to the state after getting edumucated elsewhere. Haley went to Yale. HLC and I did not, but we went to better schools than the one in Siouxland.
To hear it from their side, we swooped in and took "their" jobs. This they bitch about, complaining that it's patently unfair because they've paid their dues by attending school in state. Um, I'm sorry. I spent 18 years in this shithole before I came back to get a job. So did HLC. So did Haley. And, Haley, HLC and I did not have the opportunity to network with, or clerk for, attorneys at the state's flagship firms during law school. We all came in cold, with nothing more than the strength of our resumes and a local hometown, long since abandoned, behind us. Yet, we took three of the most coveted jobs in the state. Actually, four, if you count two of my three jobs here. Not surprisingly, the Magic City job I just left behind is monumentally uncoveted.
They can't beat us on the education. But they should be able to beat us, hands down, on the networking side of things. And, let's be honest, the second is more important, in most cases. Yet, they still blow it off. I don't know what's going on up there, but it just doesn't seem good. They can't write, they don't know the law, and they have a grossly inflated image of their abilities and strengths. They can't even submit resumes that are free of typos.
It's entirely possible the brain drain has virtually stripped the state of an entire generation of legal talent. I don't notice it so much with the attorneys that have been practicing for 15+ years. Whether that's a product of experience or an indication of a decline in the quality of Siouxland's program, I can't say. I do know this, though. If we had a better law school, we'd have better lawyers. Once the talent is lured out by better educational opportunities, it's extremely difficult to draw them back in. I'm here due to an series of accidental missteps. It wasn't ever my plan to come back. Ever. But that's a different topic altogether.
I need to issue a disclaimer. I know I sound arrogant by writing this post. Admittedly, I am not F. Lee Bailey, for two reasons: (1) I am not nearly as talented as him, and (2) I have not been disbarred. However, I have gone head to head with many a Siouxland grad, and worked beside them, and I am confident that my law school education was of higher quality. Am I smarter? Maybe. But you can be the smartest person in the room and still be handicapped by your education. I have also worked with HLC and Haley, and it's also clear that their skills and abilities are much greater than those of Siouxland grads of similar vintage.
Dear Dean of Siouxland Law: For the love of god, please put some effort into creating a better law school. I get tired of practicing against ill-prepared, arrogant lawyers. I can't take another thirty years of this, especially when you consider the good lawyers will only be around for another 10-15 years. I'd rather enjoy having a worthy opponent almost every time instead of every once in awhile. And, as is obvious by reading this post, I could use some humility by being beaten by one every now and again, too.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Fender-Bender-Bender Status Report
Well, the muscle relaxers are ridiculous. I asked Dr. Bones if she'd perform an exam to evaluate my car accident issues before the needle attack. She obliged, and performed the same exam as last week (pre-accident). It's amazing how different it was than last week. I'm more f-ed up than I thought. She did some adjustments, and deduced that both my lowest vertebrae and public bone were out of place. It was a little weird to get undressed in a chiropractor's office, but.... OK, I'm only kidding.
My back pain has been pretty constant since the night of the accident. It's in my middle and lower back, radiating out into my entire back and up to my shoulder blades and tops of shoulders by the neck. It also hurts to sit, stand and walk. I have some abnormal ankle swelling (in my good ankle, and didn't even wear heels today.
I certainly will not be going to the gym anytime soon. Which sucks because I'll probably have to become bulimic to look sassy at HLC's wedding. As long as I keep getting percocet, I should have my wish come true.
I have to admit that I felt better once I walk ed out of Dr. Bone's office. However, that was fleeting since it hurts everywhere again. who knew?
Best part is that I get massages covered by insurance. I've been jonesing for a massage since Friday to help my back, but didn't want to pay for it.
OK, I'm a mess. that's the bottom line. I took a percocet and, instead of throwing up, I spewed words into my abandoned blog.
Carey
My back pain has been pretty constant since the night of the accident. It's in my middle and lower back, radiating out into my entire back and up to my shoulder blades and tops of shoulders by the neck. It also hurts to sit, stand and walk. I have some abnormal ankle swelling (in my good ankle, and didn't even wear heels today.
I certainly will not be going to the gym anytime soon. Which sucks because I'll probably have to become bulimic to look sassy at HLC's wedding. As long as I keep getting percocet, I should have my wish come true.
I have to admit that I felt better once I walk ed out of Dr. Bone's office. However, that was fleeting since it hurts everywhere again. who knew?
Best part is that I get massages covered by insurance. I've been jonesing for a massage since Friday to help my back, but didn't want to pay for it.
OK, I'm a mess. that's the bottom line. I took a percocet and, instead of throwing up, I spewed words into my abandoned blog.
Carey
Sleepless in Seattle
I've decided it's time for desperate measures with regard to the insomnia, so I'm receiving acupuncture treatments with a chiropractor, Dr. Bones. It comes with a free tarot card reading and we burn incense while chanting and rubbing crystals over our faces.
My first visit was last week. Dr. Bones performed an all-over body exam to see if anything was out of whack. Aside from a pelvis that seemed out of place, and some minor tension in my shoulders and neck, I was relatively in place. Dr. Bones did a few adjustments and then moved on to the acupuncture. It's too soon to tell if it'll work; it may take 3-5 treatments before I start to notice.
My 2nd treatments was today. The needles are placed in the following places: outer wrist, inner wrist, index finger joint, shoulders, and stomach. Weird, and it hurt more today than yesterday. Perhaps related to the accident.
Dr. Bones made a preliminary diagnosis of adrenal fatigue syndrome. The symptons online are pretty compelling when I take a personal inventory. One of the factors is difficulty getting up in the morning, along with feeling tired between 9 and 10 p.m. but resisting going to sleep. Dry skin and a heart murmur are also factors, in addition to inability to lose weight and serious sugar cravings. It may includes other character flaws, including bossiness, impatience, spending sprees and animal hoarding. The problem is that it is difficult to treat - mostly involving changes in diet, sleeping from 10 p.m. to 9 a.m. (no shit, that's srongly recommended), no caffeine and eliminating all stress. Um, I can maybe do one of those things, but not all of them.
So, thinking perhaps I found the answer, I did some online research. Mayo Clinic does not believe adrenal fatigue syndrome actually exists as a medical condition. Well, that fucking figures. It's a more of holistic diagnosis, and I think it's probably similar to chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia as far as being medically accepted.
Regardless of whether I have an adrenal gland issue, I realized I need to start looking into the physical cause (word? physiology? Neuropathy?) of my ailments. I've been treating with a psychiatrist for about four years. Clearly, it's not just in my head. Dr. Bones will refer me to a real doctor who also practices in chinese medicine and may or may not believe in adrenal glad fatigue.
So, then I decided on my own to finally get a real doctor so, whenever I got to the clinic, I don't have to see the disappointed stare whenever I get that question. They certainly don't like "you guys" when you're at Urgent Care at 9 p.m. Anyway, I have a date with a family practitioner for the first time since high school. We meet in a month, and I hope she knows what she's doing and not blow me after deciding it's stress. Right. Stress. Despite being medicated to the point where you'd think I was on a soma holiday all day every day. Over the years, I've brought up the insomnia/can't get up/weight gain thing to other doctors, but they've just brushed me off as being anxious and stressed out (because I had an undiagnosed anxiety disorder - nice, huh?)
If the acupuncture treatments don't work, I'm headed off to an MD that also practices in traditional chinese medicine too, per Dr. Bones' suggestion.
And, finally, each hospital here has MD's that practice in sleep medicine. I plan to have at lest one sleep study done before year end, if not two. As you may recall, I had a sleep study done in Minot. Their conclusion: you do not have sleep apnea. Frankly, I'm just lucky they didn't accidentally kill me or steal a kidney while I was knocked out from the sleeping pill they made me take so they could figure out if I had sleep apnea. Still, it was quite strange waking up in a tub of ice with a telephone and a note instructing me to call 911.....
My first visit was last week. Dr. Bones performed an all-over body exam to see if anything was out of whack. Aside from a pelvis that seemed out of place, and some minor tension in my shoulders and neck, I was relatively in place. Dr. Bones did a few adjustments and then moved on to the acupuncture. It's too soon to tell if it'll work; it may take 3-5 treatments before I start to notice.
My 2nd treatments was today. The needles are placed in the following places: outer wrist, inner wrist, index finger joint, shoulders, and stomach. Weird, and it hurt more today than yesterday. Perhaps related to the accident.
Dr. Bones made a preliminary diagnosis of adrenal fatigue syndrome. The symptons online are pretty compelling when I take a personal inventory. One of the factors is difficulty getting up in the morning, along with feeling tired between 9 and 10 p.m. but resisting going to sleep. Dry skin and a heart murmur are also factors, in addition to inability to lose weight and serious sugar cravings. It may includes other character flaws, including bossiness, impatience, spending sprees and animal hoarding. The problem is that it is difficult to treat - mostly involving changes in diet, sleeping from 10 p.m. to 9 a.m. (no shit, that's srongly recommended), no caffeine and eliminating all stress. Um, I can maybe do one of those things, but not all of them.
So, thinking perhaps I found the answer, I did some online research. Mayo Clinic does not believe adrenal fatigue syndrome actually exists as a medical condition. Well, that fucking figures. It's a more of holistic diagnosis, and I think it's probably similar to chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia as far as being medically accepted.
Regardless of whether I have an adrenal gland issue, I realized I need to start looking into the physical cause (word? physiology? Neuropathy?) of my ailments. I've been treating with a psychiatrist for about four years. Clearly, it's not just in my head. Dr. Bones will refer me to a real doctor who also practices in chinese medicine and may or may not believe in adrenal glad fatigue.
So, then I decided on my own to finally get a real doctor so, whenever I got to the clinic, I don't have to see the disappointed stare whenever I get that question. They certainly don't like "you guys" when you're at Urgent Care at 9 p.m. Anyway, I have a date with a family practitioner for the first time since high school. We meet in a month, and I hope she knows what she's doing and not blow me after deciding it's stress. Right. Stress. Despite being medicated to the point where you'd think I was on a soma holiday all day every day. Over the years, I've brought up the insomnia/can't get up/weight gain thing to other doctors, but they've just brushed me off as being anxious and stressed out (because I had an undiagnosed anxiety disorder - nice, huh?)
If the acupuncture treatments don't work, I'm headed off to an MD that also practices in traditional chinese medicine too, per Dr. Bones' suggestion.
And, finally, each hospital here has MD's that practice in sleep medicine. I plan to have at lest one sleep study done before year end, if not two. As you may recall, I had a sleep study done in Minot. Their conclusion: you do not have sleep apnea. Frankly, I'm just lucky they didn't accidentally kill me or steal a kidney while I was knocked out from the sleeping pill they made me take so they could figure out if I had sleep apnea. Still, it was quite strange waking up in a tub of ice with a telephone and a note instructing me to call 911.....
Rock Chalk Jayhawk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Woo-hoo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They won, they won, they won, they won, they won!
I came in 2nd in my office bracket pool, so I'm pocketing a cool $50! And, I came from the bottom 20% after the first round to win!
And, even better, I finally won my own bracket pool! I had 50 correct picks, and my South regional bracket remained flawless.
If I knew my bumper wasn't being replaced, I would put my jayhawk bumper sticker on it.
I came in 2nd in my office bracket pool, so I'm pocketing a cool $50! And, I came from the bottom 20% after the first round to win!
And, even better, I finally won my own bracket pool! I had 50 correct picks, and my South regional bracket remained flawless.
If I knew my bumper wasn't being replaced, I would put my jayhawk bumper sticker on it.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Damnit!
So, the night got even better. My naval officer showed up at the bar tonight, looking for me. The bar where I was supposed to watch the game. But didn't because my friends suck. Because they cancel on me when it's too late to contact every one I've invited to warn them that the plans have changed.
And, now I'm home in my pajamas. With whiplash. And a respiratory infection. In my pajamas. Bitter. So bitter.
And, now I'm home in my pajamas. With whiplash. And a respiratory infection. In my pajamas. Bitter. So bitter.
Isn't April over yet?
OK, so it's been awhile. A long, long while. Not much has changed, really. I went to Florida. I survived. I hate Disney World. I talk to Sky every day. Yes, every day. And I enjoy it. The naval officer came back from Turkey, and we had our second date. It was perfectly enjoyable, although he's sailing off to Israel for George Bush knows how long, so it's a moot point.
I had my first trial. Opposing counsel/drinking buddy Jen is a complete bitch. I knew she was nasty in court before, but I thought she'd at least play by the rules. Nope. She tried to fuck me by failing to honor a gentleman's agreement and introducing a settlement agreement into the Court (which is inadmissible all by itself but, combined with her word, should have left it unmentioned in front of the judge). She then lied to the judge about the status of the law during closing arguments after she knew I wasn't allowed to present further argument.
However, despite her underhandedness, I came away with a huge win. Full custody AND spousal support. So, for once, good triumphed over evil.
Which brings me to the last few days.
Thursday.
1. I found out I won my trial on Thursday.
2. I drove five hours to Siouxland for the State Dem Convention and a firm-sponsored law lecture at the local law school.
3. I was driving while I was on the phone with my secretary, who is in serious need of a brain transplant, and, in venting my frustration, I unknowingly pushed down on the accelerator. And drove past a highway patrolman. I was cited for traveling 92 mph in a 75 mph zone. The ticket is only $85. However, I got 5 points (limit is twelve) on my driver's license. I could have probably mowed down a baker's dozen of kindergartners in a school crosswalk right before their christmas pageant and received less points.
4. I was driving through campus at Not Harvard University, trying to find a parking spot for the law lecture. I came to a dead stop behind a perfectly nice chevy cavalier while students were crossing the street. And, then I was struck from behind by a perfectly nice pontiac grand prix. Which shoved me into the cavalier. The jeep fared well (although I'm sure there's still $2k worth of damage), but the cars both looked like accordions in their respective impact zones. The grand prix driver admitted he wasn't watching, the police came, he got cited, and we went on our merry way. I actually have the imprint of the grand prix's grill, pontiac arrowhead emblem included, stamped into my bumper. I am positive the guy who rammed into me, and rammed me into the cavalier, received less points for his transgression than me.
5. I attended the law lecture and got a parking ticket.
6. I went to ER to get checked out and was given percocet for my burgeoning back injuries.
7. The percocet made me throw up.
Friday
1. I drove to Derby (2.5 hours away from Siouxland) to visit with a client at the jail.
2. I'm pretty sure I was high from the percocet for half of my drive.
3. The meeting was an hour longer than expected, so I was late getting back to Siouxland for the State Dem Convention.
4. I stopped by the Convention Center to get my registration before I went back to the hotel to make myself beautiful for Barack and Hillary. I had a little less than 1.5 hours to get the registration, get ready, and get back for a $100 fundraiser (prepaid, of course) for Barack. He was going to appear in person at the fundraiser. My registration was lost and, in addition to being belittled for not signing up in time (six weeks in advance, although they all thought I became a delegate at the last minute so I could sit closer to Barack), I had to spend almost an hour straightening out the mess. Then, as I was about to leave, we noticed my banquet ticket (also prepaid) wasn't there. They were out. Despite the fact that mine was already paid for and assigned to me. Yup, out. I'm getting my $30 back; I don't care if it's a political donation.
5. I missed the $100 Barack fundraiser.
6. The rest of the night was awesome; I was within about 10 feet of both Barack and Hillary.
7. I threw up from the percocet.
Saturday
1. I woke up with the plague. Coughing so hard my abs still hurt. Or is that from the car accident? Can't tell. I spent the day sleeping in mine and Tiki's hotel room and I missed the convention. And the banquet, but that was already a given.
2. I watched KU stomp North Carolina in my hotel room with my sister, Jenny.
3. I did not throw up from the percocet.
Sunday
1. Tiki decided not to go to the convention, so I skipped out on it, too. I did not cast one ballot, despite my designation as a delegate for my district.
2. Tiki and I treacherously caravaned through the state's east coast in a snowstorm, traveling 35 mph at times. We safely made the 250 mile trip home.
3. I made it home, picked up the dog and played with the cats.
4. I took some percocet and tried to go to sleep.
5. I did not throw up from the percocet.
6. I did not sleep from the percocet.
Monday
1. I was still awake from Sunday, so I actually billed three hours from 2 a.m. to 6 a.m.
2. I finally fell asleep at 7 a.m.
3. I went to work at 11:30 a.m.
4. I tried to play catchup at work and planned to go to a sports bar to watch KU's first championship game appearance since I was in law school.
5. My friends, unbeknownst to me, cancelled our plans to watch the KU game, inviting me over to watch it at home.
6. I declined. I would rather watch it by myself than listen to Richard yell at the TV in his thick north dakota accent.
7. I went to the doctor re: my whiplash and my plague. I have a viral upper respiratory infection. And whiplash. So he gave me muscle relaxers and cough syrup with codeine.
8. The muscle relaxers don't work.
9. KU is up by three points right now.
So, to some it up: Go Jayhawks! And fuck April.
I had my first trial. Opposing counsel/drinking buddy Jen is a complete bitch. I knew she was nasty in court before, but I thought she'd at least play by the rules. Nope. She tried to fuck me by failing to honor a gentleman's agreement and introducing a settlement agreement into the Court (which is inadmissible all by itself but, combined with her word, should have left it unmentioned in front of the judge). She then lied to the judge about the status of the law during closing arguments after she knew I wasn't allowed to present further argument.
However, despite her underhandedness, I came away with a huge win. Full custody AND spousal support. So, for once, good triumphed over evil.
Which brings me to the last few days.
Thursday.
1. I found out I won my trial on Thursday.
2. I drove five hours to Siouxland for the State Dem Convention and a firm-sponsored law lecture at the local law school.
3. I was driving while I was on the phone with my secretary, who is in serious need of a brain transplant, and, in venting my frustration, I unknowingly pushed down on the accelerator. And drove past a highway patrolman. I was cited for traveling 92 mph in a 75 mph zone. The ticket is only $85. However, I got 5 points (limit is twelve) on my driver's license. I could have probably mowed down a baker's dozen of kindergartners in a school crosswalk right before their christmas pageant and received less points.
4. I was driving through campus at Not Harvard University, trying to find a parking spot for the law lecture. I came to a dead stop behind a perfectly nice chevy cavalier while students were crossing the street. And, then I was struck from behind by a perfectly nice pontiac grand prix. Which shoved me into the cavalier. The jeep fared well (although I'm sure there's still $2k worth of damage), but the cars both looked like accordions in their respective impact zones. The grand prix driver admitted he wasn't watching, the police came, he got cited, and we went on our merry way. I actually have the imprint of the grand prix's grill, pontiac arrowhead emblem included, stamped into my bumper. I am positive the guy who rammed into me, and rammed me into the cavalier, received less points for his transgression than me.
5. I attended the law lecture and got a parking ticket.
6. I went to ER to get checked out and was given percocet for my burgeoning back injuries.
7. The percocet made me throw up.
Friday
1. I drove to Derby (2.5 hours away from Siouxland) to visit with a client at the jail.
2. I'm pretty sure I was high from the percocet for half of my drive.
3. The meeting was an hour longer than expected, so I was late getting back to Siouxland for the State Dem Convention.
4. I stopped by the Convention Center to get my registration before I went back to the hotel to make myself beautiful for Barack and Hillary. I had a little less than 1.5 hours to get the registration, get ready, and get back for a $100 fundraiser (prepaid, of course) for Barack. He was going to appear in person at the fundraiser. My registration was lost and, in addition to being belittled for not signing up in time (six weeks in advance, although they all thought I became a delegate at the last minute so I could sit closer to Barack), I had to spend almost an hour straightening out the mess. Then, as I was about to leave, we noticed my banquet ticket (also prepaid) wasn't there. They were out. Despite the fact that mine was already paid for and assigned to me. Yup, out. I'm getting my $30 back; I don't care if it's a political donation.
5. I missed the $100 Barack fundraiser.
6. The rest of the night was awesome; I was within about 10 feet of both Barack and Hillary.
7. I threw up from the percocet.
Saturday
1. I woke up with the plague. Coughing so hard my abs still hurt. Or is that from the car accident? Can't tell. I spent the day sleeping in mine and Tiki's hotel room and I missed the convention. And the banquet, but that was already a given.
2. I watched KU stomp North Carolina in my hotel room with my sister, Jenny.
3. I did not throw up from the percocet.
Sunday
1. Tiki decided not to go to the convention, so I skipped out on it, too. I did not cast one ballot, despite my designation as a delegate for my district.
2. Tiki and I treacherously caravaned through the state's east coast in a snowstorm, traveling 35 mph at times. We safely made the 250 mile trip home.
3. I made it home, picked up the dog and played with the cats.
4. I took some percocet and tried to go to sleep.
5. I did not throw up from the percocet.
6. I did not sleep from the percocet.
Monday
1. I was still awake from Sunday, so I actually billed three hours from 2 a.m. to 6 a.m.
2. I finally fell asleep at 7 a.m.
3. I went to work at 11:30 a.m.
4. I tried to play catchup at work and planned to go to a sports bar to watch KU's first championship game appearance since I was in law school.
5. My friends, unbeknownst to me, cancelled our plans to watch the KU game, inviting me over to watch it at home.
6. I declined. I would rather watch it by myself than listen to Richard yell at the TV in his thick north dakota accent.
7. I went to the doctor re: my whiplash and my plague. I have a viral upper respiratory infection. And whiplash. So he gave me muscle relaxers and cough syrup with codeine.
8. The muscle relaxers don't work.
9. KU is up by three points right now.
So, to some it up: Go Jayhawks! And fuck April.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
"Incoming!" (blast!!!!) (screams) "Oh the humanity!"
I am now being attacked on all fronts. I was pulled into a meeting with the brass at the local M this afternoon. Indeed, it was my second intervention this week. The message: I need to spend more time in the office. Why? Because the staff is complaining to Corporate in Fargo. The staff. Yes, the staff. They tattle on me on a regular basis. They do not like that I spend time out of the office for things like court and client visits that are in other cities (as a result of my job change, some cases remain lingering in the Magic City).
I think it reached critical mass two days ago when I had to leave the office early to exercise my professional responsibility. I didn't feel it was appropriate, and, really, not ethical to tell them where I was going or why I was leaving, so I just said goodbye and scuttled out the door.
Corporate already hates me, so this is perfect. The local brass does not want it to escalate to a showdown with Corporate. They weren't upset, just very matter of fact. I am behind the eight-ball and I need to watch my step. Am I ever not behind the eight-ball?
I think it reached critical mass two days ago when I had to leave the office early to exercise my professional responsibility. I didn't feel it was appropriate, and, really, not ethical to tell them where I was going or why I was leaving, so I just said goodbye and scuttled out the door.
Corporate already hates me, so this is perfect. The local brass does not want it to escalate to a showdown with Corporate. They weren't upset, just very matter of fact. I am behind the eight-ball and I need to watch my step. Am I ever not behind the eight-ball?
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
The Keating Five
It was a rocky morning, but my FICO and I are on the mend. The Fed (a/k/a my father) announced late this afternoon that it agreed to perform an S&L bailout.
This was a surprising turn of events, in light of the phone call I received from the Fed this morning. The Fed called, demanding to know where I was and, presumably, why I wasn't at work. I have gone into survival mode, speaking only when necessary and offering unacceptable but honest answers when confronted. I relayed that I was, in fact, in bed. It was too much effort to face the day before noon. The Fed then demanded that I get some discipline in my life, clean my house, go to bed early, get up early, and walk to work to save gas (seriously, it's five blocks and zero degrees outside). The Fed then barked, "I love you," and abruptly hung up the phone.
The Fed reconsidered its earlier news release when I submitted an explanation as to why I had not notified the Fed of any need for assistance. I pointed out that, when I previously asked for assistance, I received none. Instead, I received a "figure it out on your own or you're never going to learn" response. The Fed's policy has been in place for at least twenty-nine years and, before today, was unyielding to any public pressure to change.
For example, the last time the Fed offered any assistance, it was in the form of a twenty dollar bill, provided to (partially) fund a night of binge drinking when I was a first-year law student home for the holidays. That was seven years ago. The Fed also required that I subsidize my own school lunches beginning at age 14 because I was gainfully employed during the summer months at the Fed earning $3.60 per hour. At other times assistance has been requested, the Fed has produced official bank loan papers at a less than competitive interest rate, so as to comply with FDIC examiners' requirement that insiders receive no benefit for being an insider.
In light of the above, the Fed's announcement this afternoon was a utter, but welcome, surprise. However, the Fed officially announced it's position on my living situation. Inside sources initially revealed that it would be announced I would be moving into my parents' new home (with them living there, too), within several months' time for a period of six months to one year. This was confirmed by both the Fed and his wife.
The Fed's wife stopped by this evening to buy me groceries and color my hair. However, it was also to "talk" to me. She suggested that I get off all my medication. When I asked, "why?" she stated I was too young to be on all that stuff and wouldn't it be great to find other ways to solve my problems? Um, no, I'm perfectly fine, thank you.
She offered a cure for insomnia, given to her by her acupuncturist. I should talk calcium, magnesium and a handful of walnuts at bedtime. You know, benzo's (valium-type drugs that are hella-addictive and strong) didn't work for me, but I'm sure vitamins will be great. She then told me that I don't know what I'm talking about and she understands the history of psychiatry. OK, that didn't happen, but it seemed like it was about to. I have reason to believe Mr. and Mrs. The Fed are scientologists.
Oh, and I can't have my tivo when I move in. It's an unnecessary expense. It's $12.95 per month. I'm also not allowed to call my sister the "c" word anymore.
Finally, at the end of our evening, Mrs. The Fed offered to spend the night. Really? No, thanks. No, really. Hit the road, crack pot. She then asked if I was going to do anything crazy like hurt myself. So, she totally came down here to perform a suicide watch. I assured her that I would not. I thought about adding it might come to that if she didn't leave.
The bottom line is that my family has placed my financial "crisis" on the same plane as heroin addiction.
In all seriousness, I'm back to my old self again this evening. I don't feel better or worse than I did two nights ago, before I went through yesterday. The only thing to do is deal with it and move forward.
This was a surprising turn of events, in light of the phone call I received from the Fed this morning. The Fed called, demanding to know where I was and, presumably, why I wasn't at work. I have gone into survival mode, speaking only when necessary and offering unacceptable but honest answers when confronted. I relayed that I was, in fact, in bed. It was too much effort to face the day before noon. The Fed then demanded that I get some discipline in my life, clean my house, go to bed early, get up early, and walk to work to save gas (seriously, it's five blocks and zero degrees outside). The Fed then barked, "I love you," and abruptly hung up the phone.
The Fed reconsidered its earlier news release when I submitted an explanation as to why I had not notified the Fed of any need for assistance. I pointed out that, when I previously asked for assistance, I received none. Instead, I received a "figure it out on your own or you're never going to learn" response. The Fed's policy has been in place for at least twenty-nine years and, before today, was unyielding to any public pressure to change.
For example, the last time the Fed offered any assistance, it was in the form of a twenty dollar bill, provided to (partially) fund a night of binge drinking when I was a first-year law student home for the holidays. That was seven years ago. The Fed also required that I subsidize my own school lunches beginning at age 14 because I was gainfully employed during the summer months at the Fed earning $3.60 per hour. At other times assistance has been requested, the Fed has produced official bank loan papers at a less than competitive interest rate, so as to comply with FDIC examiners' requirement that insiders receive no benefit for being an insider.
In light of the above, the Fed's announcement this afternoon was a utter, but welcome, surprise. However, the Fed officially announced it's position on my living situation. Inside sources initially revealed that it would be announced I would be moving into my parents' new home (with them living there, too), within several months' time for a period of six months to one year. This was confirmed by both the Fed and his wife.
The Fed's wife stopped by this evening to buy me groceries and color my hair. However, it was also to "talk" to me. She suggested that I get off all my medication. When I asked, "why?" she stated I was too young to be on all that stuff and wouldn't it be great to find other ways to solve my problems? Um, no, I'm perfectly fine, thank you.
She offered a cure for insomnia, given to her by her acupuncturist. I should talk calcium, magnesium and a handful of walnuts at bedtime. You know, benzo's (valium-type drugs that are hella-addictive and strong) didn't work for me, but I'm sure vitamins will be great. She then told me that I don't know what I'm talking about and she understands the history of psychiatry. OK, that didn't happen, but it seemed like it was about to. I have reason to believe Mr. and Mrs. The Fed are scientologists.
Oh, and I can't have my tivo when I move in. It's an unnecessary expense. It's $12.95 per month. I'm also not allowed to call my sister the "c" word anymore.
Finally, at the end of our evening, Mrs. The Fed offered to spend the night. Really? No, thanks. No, really. Hit the road, crack pot. She then asked if I was going to do anything crazy like hurt myself. So, she totally came down here to perform a suicide watch. I assured her that I would not. I thought about adding it might come to that if she didn't leave.
The bottom line is that my family has placed my financial "crisis" on the same plane as heroin addiction.
In all seriousness, I'm back to my old self again this evening. I don't feel better or worse than I did two nights ago, before I went through yesterday. The only thing to do is deal with it and move forward.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Hey now! Hey now! [F]iko [F]iko Un-day
When was the last time your sister had a frank discussion with you about your FICO score? My sister confronted me with mine tonight, asking me if I knew what it was. I told her I did, indeed. I even know what each letter of FICO represents. She then nearly shouted into the phone, "Do you know you would NEVER get approved for a home loan with that?!?" I told her I did, in fact, know that. Again, I might be dumb, but I'm still a lawyer.
I know she has four weeks of grad school (spread out over two years) under her belt, but I'm slowly catching on to this world. She'll earn her degree from banking school, otherwise known to her and the rest of my family as grad school, after her third and final two-week installment this summer. That's six whole weeks of grad school. I do hope the entire family can attend her graduation. It'll be just like my graduation, except it'll be with the family. OK, my parents did attend briefly, promptly jetting off immediately after each ceremony to Washington, D.C.
When she "graduates", she will, once and for all, be as educated as me. Actually, I'm sure she somehow is already more educated than me. I don't know how it would be quantified, but it must be true. I've only had 96 weeks of grad school. Actually, I've had about 106 weeks of grad school, if you count summer school. Admittedly, I needed a calculator to figure that out. Which is why she's smarter than me.
This is the bottom line: I'd like to set her flag on fire.
I know she has four weeks of grad school (spread out over two years) under her belt, but I'm slowly catching on to this world. She'll earn her degree from banking school, otherwise known to her and the rest of my family as grad school, after her third and final two-week installment this summer. That's six whole weeks of grad school. I do hope the entire family can attend her graduation. It'll be just like my graduation, except it'll be with the family. OK, my parents did attend briefly, promptly jetting off immediately after each ceremony to Washington, D.C.
When she "graduates", she will, once and for all, be as educated as me. Actually, I'm sure she somehow is already more educated than me. I don't know how it would be quantified, but it must be true. I've only had 96 weeks of grad school. Actually, I've had about 106 weeks of grad school, if you count summer school. Admittedly, I needed a calculator to figure that out. Which is why she's smarter than me.
This is the bottom line: I'd like to set her flag on fire.
She's Come Undone
Where do I begin.... Today has been the most brutal of days. It was the worst of times. It was the worst of times. It began with the, "I'm going back to my wife."
Then, I had to go perform my professional responsibility, which I can't get into, but I assure you it totally sucks ass.
Those two things were enough to bring me to tears. I was throwing myself a pity-party in my living room when my phone rang. I managed to dry my eyes and answer. It was my sister. My younger sister. Bridezilla, as you may recall. She was calling to relay the news that my family has decided that I'm headed for bankruptcy and she's coming over to my house later this week to take control of my finances.
In an astonishing move, she then threw in little details about my finances that one would only know had they gone through my checking account, debit by debit, to find out. For example, she casually mentioned that, for instance, I shouldn't spend X amount of dollars on someone's Christmas gift (which she nailed, price-wise). She didn't mean to give herself away so easily, I'm sure, and an untrained person probably wouldn't have caught it. I might be dumb, but I'm still a lawyer.
My sister then went on to berate me for my spending habits, asking repeatedly, "do you get it?" and "don't you understand?" No, I don't get it. I only have a college degree, a law degree, and five law licenses (six if you count tribal court). I don't know how I manage to dress myself or program my tivo. I'm a complete fucking idiot, especially when compared to you, the one with the four-year degree and the child for a husband.
So, after a good beating, the dam finally broke. And then, in typical form, she criticized me for crying. When I explained that I was in tears before I picked up the phone, she proceeded to tell me how stupid I was for getting upset about the first two items that made my day so enjoyable. She offered up some unethical advice on the second issue and burned me in effigy over the first.
Then came the dénouement. My sister announced all of my problems would be solved when I completed the biggest part of her plan to take over my world. I will move in with my parents this Spring. Get fucked. She then added, as a bonus, or even silver-lining to this plan, I would be able to lose weight because I would eat at home and my mom would cook for me. Or control everything that goes into my body.
Near as I can tell, her plan is to rape and pillage my soul until I become one of The Others. I think it's a vast conspiracy to turn me into a republican before the 2008 presidential election.
Then, I had to go perform my professional responsibility, which I can't get into, but I assure you it totally sucks ass.
Those two things were enough to bring me to tears. I was throwing myself a pity-party in my living room when my phone rang. I managed to dry my eyes and answer. It was my sister. My younger sister. Bridezilla, as you may recall. She was calling to relay the news that my family has decided that I'm headed for bankruptcy and she's coming over to my house later this week to take control of my finances.
In an astonishing move, she then threw in little details about my finances that one would only know had they gone through my checking account, debit by debit, to find out. For example, she casually mentioned that, for instance, I shouldn't spend X amount of dollars on someone's Christmas gift (which she nailed, price-wise). She didn't mean to give herself away so easily, I'm sure, and an untrained person probably wouldn't have caught it. I might be dumb, but I'm still a lawyer.
My sister then went on to berate me for my spending habits, asking repeatedly, "do you get it?" and "don't you understand?" No, I don't get it. I only have a college degree, a law degree, and five law licenses (six if you count tribal court). I don't know how I manage to dress myself or program my tivo. I'm a complete fucking idiot, especially when compared to you, the one with the four-year degree and the child for a husband.
So, after a good beating, the dam finally broke. And then, in typical form, she criticized me for crying. When I explained that I was in tears before I picked up the phone, she proceeded to tell me how stupid I was for getting upset about the first two items that made my day so enjoyable. She offered up some unethical advice on the second issue and burned me in effigy over the first.
Then came the dénouement. My sister announced all of my problems would be solved when I completed the biggest part of her plan to take over my world. I will move in with my parents this Spring. Get fucked. She then added, as a bonus, or even silver-lining to this plan, I would be able to lose weight because I would eat at home and my mom would cook for me. Or control everything that goes into my body.
Near as I can tell, her plan is to rape and pillage my soul until I become one of The Others. I think it's a vast conspiracy to turn me into a republican before the 2008 presidential election.
Monday, January 14, 2008
A Rush of Blood to the Head
Ok, so it's not so much a rush of blood to the head as it is a rush of adrenalin to the stomach. Today, the only person that's ever given me actual butterflies in my stomach emailed, which gave me butterflies in my stomach for the second time in my life. My ex-boyfriend from law school, Rivers, emailed to tell me that his mother's life partner died and he's getting divorced. They have been separated since July, which is about the same time Joyce became ill.
I haven't had any telephone or email contact with him since probably 2005. It's been so long that I can't even remember how long it's been.
His email jokingly noted that I've moved up on the list (of potential Mrs. Rivers candidates). My thought, which was later relayed to him, was that, while he was divorcing my replacement (started dating her when I was on my way out of town), I certainly wasn't going to be her replacement.
Nonetheless, I took the bait. I told him to call so we could catch up. And he did. We talked for almost an hour. What's weird is that it wasn't weird. I knew the sound of his voice instantly, and we just talked about everyday things. And, I still find him funny and fun to talk to. Ugh.
He asked me to come visit him if I'm ever down his way. I told him no and, besides, I'd just been to St. Louey, so it would be awhile nonetheless (unless the 8th grants oral arguments - cross your fingers!). He then suggested he may be able to come up here. Um, ok, sure. I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You don't have to say it!
And the pendulum swings backwards.
I haven't had any telephone or email contact with him since probably 2005. It's been so long that I can't even remember how long it's been.
His email jokingly noted that I've moved up on the list (of potential Mrs. Rivers candidates). My thought, which was later relayed to him, was that, while he was divorcing my replacement (started dating her when I was on my way out of town), I certainly wasn't going to be her replacement.
Nonetheless, I took the bait. I told him to call so we could catch up. And he did. We talked for almost an hour. What's weird is that it wasn't weird. I knew the sound of his voice instantly, and we just talked about everyday things. And, I still find him funny and fun to talk to. Ugh.
He asked me to come visit him if I'm ever down his way. I told him no and, besides, I'd just been to St. Louey, so it would be awhile nonetheless (unless the 8th grants oral arguments - cross your fingers!). He then suggested he may be able to come up here. Um, ok, sure. I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You don't have to say it!
And the pendulum swings backwards.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Un-Supersize Me
So, I'm on day four with no candy and no fast food. I actually bought groceries and I'm eating at home. Truth be told, if I have to make it or go hungry, I'll usually choose to go hungry. I've been eating a banana and granola bar for brunch and oatmeal for dinner. Not the best choices so far, but better than a Number 2 and two apple pies.
I've had a little help, of course. I went back on Wellbutrin to counteract some of the hunger cravings I get from my sleeping pills. However, I'm so tense my jaw aches. If it doesn't dial down, I'm eighty-sixing it. I really enjoy not being hungry. I do not, however, enjoy being snappy. I'm a little intense, to say the least. I find it difficult to actually smile and take part in small talk. That, of course, makes me a party favorite.
I've had a little help, of course. I went back on Wellbutrin to counteract some of the hunger cravings I get from my sleeping pills. However, I'm so tense my jaw aches. If it doesn't dial down, I'm eighty-sixing it. I really enjoy not being hungry. I do not, however, enjoy being snappy. I'm a little intense, to say the least. I find it difficult to actually smile and take part in small talk. That, of course, makes me a party favorite.
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