Blue Light Special. Aisle 13. Cookies.

I'm trying to work. Really I am. But Troop Beverly Hills is on ABC Family, which makes me think I'm 9 years old again, and who doesn't remember the fun of that age?

Whatever. I'm taking a break.

I have no words.

Literally. I want to write something here to describe the way I'm feeling about work right now, but I can't come up with the right words. Probably because I've been trying to come up with the "right words" all fucking day.

Let me just say this. As I was riding home on the subway from work a mere 20 minutes ago, lugging two huge redwell case files on my lap, I briefly dozed off. And then I jerked awake to a 5 year old boy DRAWING with MAGIC MARKER on the outside of one of my files. In a daze and a haze, I lightly slapped his hand away, and his mother started yelling at me. I was in no mood. Luckily I was at my stop and simply got up and left her to wag her finger at me and continue to bitch.

I need some wine. Now. Wait, is it sad to drink alone at home at 9:30 on a Friday night when you turned down your friends' dinner invitation b/c you were still working? No? Ok, good.

Billable hours, barfing, and sex dreams.

We'll go in order:

1. The end of the month sucks. I always seem to have triple the amount of work because we want to get X, Y, and Z done so we can bill it for this month. I will be working all weekend.

2. The Bachelor is making me sick. But I'm still watching it. Thank GOD Andy is smart enough to dump Stephanie from South Carolina. She needs her face kicked in. I'm rooting for Social Worker Tessa or Dr. Tina.

3. I had a sex dream the other night about someone totally inappropriate. It's freaking me out in a somewhat major way.

"It's a crime in our community to snitch."

This is big in Boston right now. Has been for a few years now, so much that the chief justice of the Massachusetts Superior Court banned "no snitching" t-shirts from courthouses. I haven't heard so much about it in NYC, probably because I'm not working in a district attorney's office anymore like I did during law school, but it's around, and it's highly disturbing.

I have to say, I don't get it. No, I'm not a poor young black kid from the inner city, (although I was at one time a poor young half-Jew/half-Indian kid from the redneck countryside where inbred imbeciles drew backward swastikas on our windows) and I don't listen to Young Buck, Cam'ron, Akon, or Busta Rhymes. But honestly, I don't give a flying fuck about this being a race thing. I certainly can't explain it better than Geoffrey Canada. Yes, inner city communities often have a tempestuous relationship with the police, but if this continues, young African Americans are truly going to become their own worst enemy.

That wasn't very coherent. But I'm tired. I shouldn't watch Anderson Cooper before bed. His rile-me-up reports are not very sleep-inducing.

Dear Time Warner Cable,

I pay a lot of money for your mediocre services. Let's just say, your channel line-up sucks compared to Comcast (where the hell is Soapnet?) and your digital layout is user-unfriendly.

But, until I decide to make the switch, the least you could do is respond promptly to your malfunctioning equipment. My cable box is clearly possessed by the devil. It turns off by itself, freezes the picture, breaks up images, and, worst of all, isn't recording my shows or letting me watch what I have stored. This is not just a minor problem. It's more of a life-ruiner. So, after spending 25 minutes meandering through your obnoxious automated service menu, your technician tells me you don't do Saturday or evening troubleshooting appointments, and that I instead have to be home between 2 and 6 pm. Um, excuse me?! How do you think I pay your bills? By picking my nose all day? Fuckers.

I'm so annoyed.

Me and more of my crazy dreams.

It was terrible horrible no good and very bad.

I dreampt (is that a word?) that I was charged with reckless homicide after someone (I don't know who) fell off a cliff when we were hiking. I didn't push her, but I was walking ahead on the trail and wasn't paying attention to where she was and then I heard her scream and saw her broken body 100 feet below. Clearly this was not any kind of homicide, but I wasn't a lawyer in this dream. I was just scared out of my mind.

I'm going out to play in the sunshine cuz I haven't been able to shake it all day.

I have a question! What kind of shampoo do you use?

I went to a fundraiser for John Edwards last night. A friend who works for his campaign got me in for free. I love him (seriously, so intelligent and has plans!! and sooo pretty up close) but I wasn't about to spend $100 to get in there like all the other "young professionals." Some flirting took place, but no one caught my fancy. So I played wingman to my friend who became smitten with an adorable second grade teacher (male teachers always have a leg up for girls).

I had two glasses of wine, got home at 11, am exhausted, and have to be in court in an hour and a half. And somehow, still sitting here in my pajamas, I don't really care about being a little late. Probably because it's just a conference and nothing will happen until all of the attorneys are there (5 of us), and I bet some others will be late too. Or, after working for four months, I've begun the long slide into Slackerville.

More Subway Fun

On the way home tonight, I found myself sitting next to a young man who couldn't have been more than 20, reading a parenting book by Dr. James Dobson. Yeah, this guy. Apparently he's written a bunch of best-selling books on how to be a good (read: crazy christian child beater) parent. At first I wanted to rip the book out of the young man's hands and slap some sense into him. If he has a kid at 20 he clearly needs all the sense he can get. Then I thought maybe he's a student and this is some kind of wacky assigned reading for his comparative religion/sociology class. I started peeking over his shoulder to glimpse some of the page, and what did it say?

"Children must be taught that their bodies are their own, but if they begin to explore their physicality to an extent that makes you uncomfortable, you must firmly make them understand the immorality and possibility of infections from their actions."

I swear.

I nearly lost it.

But then, just as I was about to commit assault and battery, my ipod, on shuffle, saved me with The Divinyls' "I Touch Myself". And just to freak the guy out, I began to sing it softly under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear me. Take that, "Dr." Dobson.

I'm usually against the death penalty. But.

Just once, I wish one of these fuckers would not shoot himself after the rampage, just so we could do a live autopsy of his brain to find out where the hell things went wrong. And after we got some answers, we could put him out of his misery ourselves.

I remember the day after Columbine (8 years ago this Friday) my assholic socially inept arrogant as all hell AP Physics teacher, who no one had ever seen in anything other than bow ties and tweed, came into class wearing a long black trench coat "as a joke." For those of you still in school, I hope one of your profs, in whatever class is most appropriate, takes some time to discuss this. In a non-assy way.

Monsoon Season, Drooling, and Don Imus

Fine, it's a "nor'easter." Whatever. That's a dumb word. The pup and I went out about 8:30 this morning, and she's still kinda wet. And we were outside for maybe 7 minutes. Rainy Sundays are awesome, but this is ANGRY weather.

Why was I up at 8:30 when I went to bed at 4? My friend who stayed over had to leave early to get back to the Jers and she forgot her wallet so I had to let her back in. I'll just go to bed really early tonight to set me up for the week.

Oh boy. I have a headache. Maybe I'm a little hungover, although I only had a couple glasses of wine and a frozen cosmo (with a strawberry cut like a flower in it - it was awesome). I hate being hungover. I just took 3 Excedrin Migraine. I'm hardcore when it comes to pain meds. I brought some "do it when you have time but it's not a huge priority until the X depositions" research home with me that I thought I would do today to, emailing cases to my boss on a Sunday being a good thing, but I just don't think it's gonna happen. I think couch surfing, napping, and day dreaming about the beautiful beautiful beautiful men I ogled last night will be enough for today. Seriously, the girls and I were drooling. And dancing all night to Madonna in the completely awesome and non-threatening environment surrounded by, I'll say it again, beautiful men.

I want some eggs. Yeah. I'm hungover. I kind of hate eggs.

On an unrelated but in your face issue of the week, once again, Frank Rich hits it spot on.

I'm fine.

Because I've figured it out. The irritableness. Tearyness. Tiredness. Spacyness. It's not work, or money, or time, or the people in my life. I'll still complain about them. But it's not them.

So what is it? I didn't think I was the kind of girl to say it outright, but I need sex. It's that feeling... of wanting to touch... and be touched. Exercise endorphins and wine aren't cutting it. When rubbing lotion into your own muscles is the most sensual thing you've done in months, you've got a problem.

And, as much as I love them, going to a gay bar for a friend's birthday on Saturday night isn't going to help me in this department. Although I can probably say going to a straight bar wouldn't either.

So here's my new plan. Indiscriminate flirting. With every man who makes my stomach do the tiniest of flips. We'll see what happens.

Crying.

Right now. A lot.

I've said it before. I'll say it again. You don't have to be a football fan. This is just by far the most beautifully written, acted, directed, scored, and filmed television show...ever. The season is now over. NBC has ordered six more episodes, the buzz being that everyone hopes a big summer push of the season 1 dvds and reruns will increase viewership enough to make a second season cost-effective for the studio. Come on people. Spread the word. Make me proud.

Why aren't I in bed?

Because I don't want it to be tomorrow. But tomorrow, when I'll inevitably be tired, I'll kick myself for staying up late. Yes, 11:30 is late.

Why don't I want it to be tomorrow? Because work is kind of pissing me off. It's nothing terrible. I'm just frustrated and confused and worried. They're not training me as well as they should be for the amount of responsibility I'm being given. Everyone is responsive to my questions, but I can only ask different versions of the same questions so many times before I start to sound like an idiot. I'm just not comfortable with certain procedures yet. That throbbing knot under my left shoulder blade, which I had hoped disappeared with the bar exam, is starting to twitch again.

If only Colin Farrell were in my bed. I'd hop in there in a flash. Although no sleep would be involved.

To everyone who may aspire to government service one day...

apparently we all went to the wrong law school.

Easter, a day to impart wisdom unto your fellow man.

I'm wondering whether the advent of DVR, instead of allowing people to simply control when they watch the shows they have always enjoyed, is really just forcing people to watch more TV. Fine, maybe it's just forcing me to watch more TV. It's just so easy to record things! And I'm paying an extra $9 per month for it! So I might as well record...wait for it...The Bachelor? Yeah, I don't know what's wrong with me either. It's 100% pure dreck, I only watched that one season with Trista and Ryan (the only couple who remain togeths, because duh, the girl chose), but now for some reason I feel the need to shake my head in judgment at these women, especially the "attorneys." They went to law school for this?

I'm also really trying to like October Road. ABC told me it was about a cute 30-ish protagonist who goes back home to friends and family he deserted and wrote a tell-all book about and tries to make amends. But what it's actually about is a cute 30-ish year old protagonist who deserves to be slapped. And then slapped again. So listen up ABC, you can only hide your weaknesses with catchy mid-90s pop classics for so long. I'm onto you.

I can't even get into the disappointment that 24 has been bringing me week after week. Clearly I will never abandon Kiefer, who apparently is now making cameos on his own damn show, but seriously, writers, when the Pentagon asks you to be part of the group who thinks of possible terrorist scenarios, you lose your right to recycle story lines.

In conclusion, on this day our Lord Jesus Christ rose again to save us all, only one thing is of the utmost importance: family.

How many more years of this?

I don't wanna go to work I don't wanna go to work I don't wanna go to work I don't wanna go to work.

And I've been working all of three months and one week. And I like it 65% of the time. But I still don't wanna go today.

UPDATE: 6:20pm

Half of my office took the day off (I suppose to celebrate the killing of Jesus? wtf.), so Boss #2 and I went out for a long lunch, and I swear, if he weren't a) my boss and b) married with two kids, I would totally let myself fall in love with him.

I then proceeded to imbibe some scotch with another attorney in his office after Boss #2 left for the day (at 3pm), and, in total, did about two hours of work all day, having fucked around online for most of the morning.

So I brought work home. Cuz it needs to get done. It just wasn't gonna get done today.

Score one for the lawyers.

I really thought this was gonna go down as a straight loss for me, but low and behold, I received a check for $100 in the mail today. I guess my threatening letter on firm letterhead signed with "Esq." did the trick. Yessss.

Time for more wine (shut up, only my second glass), rice and bean soft tacos (with Fresh Direct guac!! yum!!) and Friday Night Lights. If I don't get to see Jason Street make the transition to coaching and the never-ending PERFECTION of the Taylor marriage and Lyla continue to grow a backbone and Tyra get justice from the dick who assaulted her and Matt lead the boys to the state champtionship, I WILL LOSE MY SHIT. DO YOU HEAR ME NBC?! Do Peabody Awards mean nothing to you? Hear my prayers.

Let's not put the "duh" in dumb.

So there I was at DIP, one of Manhattan's many overpriced too-trendy eating/drinking establishments, for a friend's birthday party, where the main draw is fondue. $33 per pot fondue at that. I had already run 8 miles in the morning and showed an out-of-town guest the city sites all day. I was hoping for a nice relaxing and satiating dinner with pleasant interesting conversation.

What did I get? A group of girls in tube tops (it was 40 degrees outside) drinking $12 watermelon martinis like water and eating nothing but chocolate and cheese fondue and nachos. And talking exclusively about guys and looks and weight. No, you're skinnier than me! No, I look awful! No, I do! SHUT THE FUCK UP. YOU ARE EATING FONDUE. I'M PRETTY SORE RIGHT NOW BUT I WILL KICK YOUR ASS IF YOU DON'T STOP. It's amazing how you can be friends with someone and yet hate almost all of his or her other friends. People are quite chameleon-like.

Thankfully I had one other ally with me and we spent the entire "dinner" kicking each other under the table while savoring our overpriced wine. It was all I could do to keep myself from sticking a fondue skewer in one of the tube top girl's eye.

A little later I was forced to end up at another overpriced bar/dancing establishment where I proceeded to get groped and spilled on until 3am. I eventually parked myself in a comfy chair next to an adorable boy who described me as "too classically beautiful and down to earth" for a "place like this." I blushed, agreeing with the cute boy. And then the cute boy got up and I realized he was...about 5'5". I'm almost 5'9", and while I try not to be shallow, that's just a deal-breaker.

I love expensive disappointing nights in New York City.

And now, I'm blowing off the work I had planned to do, which will make my life worse this week, and going to see Reign Over Me with A (last night's table kicking partner), which will surely make me like the city again.

I'm not surrounding myself with the right people. But I'm not sure how to fix that.