Motion to Strike Earlier Post

Sour Girl, by and through herself, attorney at law, hereby moves the Court to strike her November 8, 2007, blog post entitled "Double Dog Dare."

Last night was a bad night, as indicated by Attorney Sour Girl's now-redacted post. Sour Girl submits she ingested legally-prescribed ambien, known generically as zolpidem, as per usual, and settled in to watch some People's Court and pass out on her couch. A review of the evidence shows Attorney Sour Girl, in her impaired state, decided it was a good idea to update her blog. Attorney Sour Girl recalls only the first version of said post, which wasn't nearly as bad as the final result. Girl posted it and believes she then fell asleep, or was in a near-sleep state.

As indicated by phone records, Attorney Girl's parents telephoned just after midnight to announce their return from a business trip. Attorney Girl has little recollection of this phone call, due to the debilitating effects of the ambien. In fact, Sour Girl's recollection was only refreshed after a strange telephone call with her mother. Sour Girl declare to her mother this afternoon that she needed to have her hair cut and colored, at which point Sour Girl's mother stated she would only be able to color Sour Girl's hair late Saturday afternoon. Based on the evidence, Sour Girl deduced she had requested her mother color her hair the previous evening while in an ambien-induced state. However, Sour Girl never presented her conclusion to her mother, as she was afraid of embarassing herself and having her mother believe she was addicted to prescription drugs and/or heroin. Sour Girl's mother, most probably out of politeness and/or fear and denial that her daughter was addicted to prescription drugs and/or heroin, did not otherwise mention the early morning phone call.

Alternatively, Sour Girl believes she may have either announced to her mother, during the early morning phone conversation, that she was on ambien, and that is why her mother did not bring it up. Or, that her mother was drunk.

In any event, Sour Girl notes that, while ambien may be debilitating, it is reasonable to assume it may be helpful as a negotiation aid. Case in point: Sour Girl has approached her mother to color her hair on a regular basis for the last eleven (11) years; each time, Sour Girl's mother refused. Sour Girl does not intend to utilize ambien as means of achieving settlement in the future, although she cannot rule it out. The heart wants what it wants.

Drawing all reasonable inferences from the evidence at hand, Sour Girl believes that phone call is the proximate cause of the resulting offensive post. The situation deteriorated rapidly after said phone call. In a more alert yet considerably altered state, Sour Girl became a walking nightmare. She became convinced her post was in need of revision. Based upon a review of the post, Sour Girl substantially altered the original post.

Within one hour of receiving the phone call from her parents, Sour Girl recalls receiving a frantic phone call from her friend, [Redacted]. Sour Girl recalls only the following from the conversation with [Redacted]: [Redacted] expressed concern over the post, inquiring about it's nature and whether there was need to be alarmed. Sour Girl then asked [Redacted] whether she should apply for a disciplinary committee position that had recently been opened. To her benefit, Sour Girl followed [Redacted]'s advice an did not apply. This was beneficial in several ways: (1) the opening was not for Sour Girls' district, thus making her ineligible for the appointment, (2) Sour Girl should not make impaired contact with anyone regarding anything with the word "disciplinary" in it, and (3) Sour Girl's former boss [Redacted 2], a former Supreme Court justice, would have been the person receiving the application. [Redacted 2] has been a dutiful job reference on Sour Girl's behalf on at least four separate occasions, as evidenced by Sour Girl's four different positions since she was employed by [Redacted 2].


Attorney Sour Girl expresses her deepest gratitude and apologies to [Redacted]. Sour Girl also submits that the Court grant her motion to strike her earlier post due to it's unduly prejudicial nature and unintentional publishing. Sour Girl did not have the requisite intent and/or judgment to knowingly publish such a post.


Attorney Sour Girl hereby certifies that she is not currently on ambien or any other controlled substance at this time. She is merely high on life. And excedrin.

In the future, Sour Girl requests the Court to review her posts for obvious signs of DUI (drafting while intoxicated) before publishing the same. Sour Girl offers the Court the following guidelines for determination of whether said post was written by ambien: Ambien doesn't know how to spell.

Respectfully submitted on this 8th day of November, 2007.

Sour Girl, Bar No 12345
Attorney at Law

Double Dog Dare

Redacted by Order of the District Court.

I'm Baaa'aaack.

That's right, hockey fans, I'm back. I haven't blogged since the summer, but, frankly, I had more important shit to deal with. And I started a myspace page.

I'm now in the Capital City. Or is it Capitol City? Irregardless, I'm in a new city [sic], with a new job (that would be Job #5 in precisely 4 years and 2 months), new business cards, and a new pad. I traded up, without a doubt.

However, it wasn't without some hesitation. Yes, I did the noble thing and eased on down the high road. But, I miss my old firm. I miss wearing my socks around the office. I miss taking my dog to work. I miss coming in at 10:30 a.m. I miss using the f-word with my boss. I miss yelling from my office to the secretary to tell her a funny joke. I miss the intimacy, I guess. I mean, it was my most successful relationship to date. 16 months, with only three of those months being bad? That's history-making stuff.

Oh, well, no regrets, I guess. It needed to be done. And, now I can say I've quit a job, in addition to being laid off and fired. I'm not saying the worst has happened, but unless my new firm is involved with the mafia, I'm probably going to be ok.

So, with that behind me, I'm looking back at settling into life. Which includes getting back down to my fighting weight. I'm hoping to actually have a relationship by my 30th birthday. OK, that's not true. I'm hoping to be thinner and have longer hair by my birthday. And be ready to quit smoking. If there's a relationship between now and then, it's a bonus. It's rare that I'm lonely, but it does happen. It's been at least 4 years since I was gut-wrenchingly attached to someone, it's probably time to get back on that horse, put another dog in that fight, toss my hat into the ring, or whatever cliche fits.

So, my goal is to drop 50 pounds by my birthday. I won't be thin. I'll be high school fat. Or, summer of sin fat (I think, I was opposed to scales then). But that's better than Magic City fat.

I also have a work-out buddy, Deva. Deva and I are on a mission together, which is better than flying solo. We'll see what happens.

My mom is still trying to encourage me to go back to LA Weightloss. I'm not sure I can bring myself to do it.

Anyway, I hope all of you have been well in my absence (OK, I've talked to most of you in the meantime).

Later, Skater.

Fast Cars and Fred Phelps

Fast Cars and Fred Phelps

One. There's some kind of auto race in town tonight and I can hear those goddamn cars racing around the track as I sit in my apartment and try to watch a documentary on the nuclear bombing of Japan during World War II. Shut the fuck up, rednecks.

Two. I applied for an appellate attorney position with the DA's office in Sedgwick County. I received a rejection letter today. Not a big deal, I didn't want to prosecute anyway. However, when I pull the letter from the envelope, I see that it's addressed to a Mr. Phelps of Kansas. Phelps. Kansas. Lawyer. Nice.

I'm assuming Mr. Phelps has my letter. And, put into the wrong hands, that letter could effectively out my job hunt to my boss. Well, technically, so could this posting, but you're all sworn to secrecy based on the silent oath you took when you accepted me as your "friend." But, I digress. The odds of a letter addressed to me, accidentally sent to someone in Kansas winding up back in the Magic City to bite me in the ass is slim. Irregardless, it's still unprofessional.

Yeah, I'm hot.

Jeepers

So, I have another date next week with another guy. Here's the hang up, though. When discussing my "Lloyd Christmas" haircut over the phone, he said, "Well, Jeepers, it's still sexy though, right?"

Um, "jeepers?" Who says that? And who uses that in a sentence with the word "sexy?" He uses it other times, too, so it wasn't an isolated incident. I'm not sure I can date a guy who uses the word "jeepers." Am I wrong, here?

Razor's Edge

So, I cut my hair last weekend. With a disposable bikini zone razor. Yeah, that's right, I did it. And I don't have to explain myself to anyone.

So, after a week, I decided I couldn't live with it anymore. I drove all the way to Bismarck today (had the afternoon off) to have it professionally fixed.

The results: I look like Lloyd Christmas from "Dumb & Dumber." OK, it's not that bad. But it's still pretty bad. And butch. I'm going to have to skip the glasses and wear makeup until it grows out.

It was actually better post-self-inflicted hair cut, pre-professionally fixed.

What a great week.