"Counselor, would you PLEASE stop yelling at me?"

I said that about 10 times during today's 4 hour deposition. Other versions consisted of:

"Sir, there's no need to shout at me or anyone else here." Both the court reporter and interpreter were getting bitchslapped as well.

Attorney JackAss (AJA) is nearly 82. How do I know? He yelled it at me: "I've been doing this for 55 years! I'm going on 82!"

Um, then I really have no idea how you haven't been disbarred yet.

Aside from the blatant unprofessionalism, I know more about deposition practice in my 8 months as an admitted attorney than he has learned in 55 years.

A) You can't testify for your client. It's a big no-no.
B) If your client isn't answering my question, I can re-ask it in as many different ways and as many times as I please until I get a responsive answer. Just because your client has the IQ of a gnat doesn't take away my right to strike her answers as non-responsive.
C) "How much longer is this going to take? I have other things to do today." is a fucking retarded thing to say to the attorney taking the deposition. The answer? "As long as it takes. And longer if you keep interrupting me."
D) Just because you're 82 does not mean you can disregard new NY State Rules Regarding Deposition Conduct (enacted because of these kinds of abuses). Snidely remarking that my reading the rule into the record is "a waste of time" will not make you look any better in front of a judge.
E) Yelling at and accusing the interpreter (who I've worked with before and kept sharing sympathetic looks with) who has been sworn in to translate honestly to the best of his ability of misleading and confusing your client, who, again, is about as intelligent as the subway rat I saw get run over the other day, is not going to do anything for your case.
F) Words have distinct meanings. "Asked and answered" means shit when I'M ASKING A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT QUESTION.

We took a number of breaks when things began to boil over. I found myself in the restroom where I strongly told myself out loud to 1) not tear up in frustration and 2) not stick a pen in my eye.

And AJA hasn't even deposed our client yet. That should be fun.

After regaling Boss #1 when I got back to the office, we decided we will be moving for sanctions. I hope this case does go to trial. Aside from other legal arguments we have on our side, I can't wait to see the shenanigans AJA tries to pull in front of a jury. I sooo want this to be my first trial.

The Ex Speaks

People throw around the word "coincidence" way too often. When you truly experience one, it should be somewhat shocking. Like mine tonight.

I met a few girlfriends for post-work drinks and snacks (why do women always insist on ordering "a few appetizers to share"? For the record, I just scarfed down some leftover pasta at 10:45 pm.) Anyway, after discussing work, friends, family, real estate (?!), etc., we not surprisingly made our way to what each of our ex boyfriends are up to these days. Now, in all honestly, my friends have had much more relationship experience than little old me, and their ex r'ships were all multiple year dramas that even I know inside and out at this point. I've had one real relationship that lasted less than a year, but naturally my thoughts drifted to this man and the fact that I truly had no idea what was going on with him. I felt a little sad about it.

And then, on my walk home, my phone rings, and who is it? None other than Ex himself showing up on my display pad. Still slightly buzzed, I look hard at the screen. Definitely him. I answer somewhat shakily and surprised, and he says he was thinking about me and wondering how I was doing since we haven't talked for at least 6 months. Even then, I think it was just a few emails. Anyway, we had a nice long conversation. Easy, comfortable, catching up on this and that, joking, etc.

But I must be careful. Because I remember why I broke up with him. Being lonely right now does not change that.

Home

Spending nine straight days with your mother, sister, stepfather, and various others who make short appearances can be trying. But it can also be just what you need in order to relax. Because really relaxing, at least for me, requires some measure of regression.

"Mommy, will you ...."

"Karate Kid or Jerry McGuire?"

"Karate Kid."

But then of course there were the inevitable squabbles, eye rolls, and "you don't respect my life choices" type statements. As expected.

Anyway. Rested, (mostly) refreshed, and although I did mutter "I don't WANNA go to work on Monday" more than once, ready for a busy fall.

I made an executive decision.

My sunburn is making wearing a bra very painful. Therefore, for the rest of the week, aside from the time during which I drag myself out for some degree of exercise, I will not be wearing one.

Is it September yet?

I've been to the beach once since we arrived. And got slightly burned. So the fact that it's been 65 degrees and rainy for the past two days doesn't bum me out too much. What does bum me out?

I'm not exactly sure. There are a number of possibilities:

1. My cold is still hanging on.
2. Jason's hair is really bad. (I'm watching General Hospital for maybe the third time this year.)
3. When I actually have the time to go on long runs during the week, I can barely move. I almost died after 20 minutes today and came back and took a nap. Maybe I should just stay in a constant state of stress and anxiety constantly since I run so much better during those times. Bar exam? I could have run a marathon the day before.
4. This beach house, while adorable and lovely, has nothing more than 5 basic tv channels. Shut up. I'm on vacation.
5. Notwithstanding number 4, there are certain worries which don't go away even when you're away from work and city-induced craziness. I'm not sure what to do about that.
6. Living in an enclosed space with my family for more than a couple days never fails to induce a certain level of hysteria among each and every one of us. Query this: do you think you'd be "friends" with your sibling(s) if you weren't related? Honestly, I don't. That doesn't mean I don't love her unconditionally and more than any other non-blood related person. But fuck. She pisses me off to no end. I assume she feels the same way.

"I'm the best God damn dancer in the American Ballet Academy. Who the hell are you? Nobody!"

I'm really glad I don't work at a place where I have to bill every minute (we do some billing, some retainer, and some contingency fees). Because what did I do all afternoon as I was counting down the minutes to my vacation?

I read this. All 38 pages of it. Read a page, research on Westlaw, read a page, deal with a phone call, read a page, make a to do list for when I get back, etc.

Unfortunately, I'm getting sick. At the start of my vacation. Awesome. If I could have every symptom of a cold besides a sore throat, I would take them all. My damn sensitive throat.

Now I'm doing laundry, cleaning my rat hole apartment so I don't have to come back to a mess, and cleaning The Two Coreys out of my dvr.

There will likely be some posting during the week, as I tend to get bored quickly and easily.

If US scientists and engineers are so fucking brilliant,

why can't they figure out a way to prevent any more people from getting trapped and killed in coal mines?

Sad.

Also sad, the fact that Anderson Cooper, who I used to love but who lately seems to have become less ballsy, is doing an entire show on these poor miners when there were a lot of other deaths today in Peru and Iraq (like that's anything new, I know, but still).

It's probably 1, 2, and 3.

I noticed a number of attributes of other people today that scared/disappointed/annoyed me to an extreme. I chalk my observations up to three possibilities:

1. My brain is so frazzled and ready for vacation that I am singularly focused on anything other than work.

2. People are incapable of following the orders and advice of millions of dollars worth of research, media portrayals, medical care, entertainment sources, fashion magazines, etc. that aspire to make our country prettier and healthier.

3. People are just idiots.

So here's what I noticed today:

A) There are still a hell of a lot of people out there who smoke. I mean a lot. In 2007, I have absolutely no sympathy for anyone who croaks of a smoke-related disease.

B) A bra has a purpose. If it's not doing its job, get a new one. No one wants to see that.

C) Wearing a tiny dress that is about 6 sizes too small and made of unforgiving fabric when you are about 100 pounds overweight INVITES people to stare at you and (silently or unsilently) judge, especially when said dress allows everyone sitting across from you on the subway to see your hoo-ha. There are many ways to fix this problem. Choose one or all of them. Now.

D) Ordering a side of mayonnaise for your french fries in a relatively nice restaurant should require you to be booted out the door.

In conclusion, people are freaks.

JT at MSG

I'm gonna hate myself in the morning.

But right now, I'm still kind of dancing.

And my ears are still kind of ringing.

There is no concert venue like Madison Square Garden. And seriously, there is no singer/dancer/guitarist/pianist (who knew?)/performer like Mr. Justin Timberlake.

We were all of 30 feet from him all night, because my friend had an "in" through work.

Twas fucking awesome.

Monday Musings

4 days til vacation. Buying a bikini online from Lands End was quite the smart decision. End of summer sales + natural lighting make girls happy.

August in New York City is a drag. Well, August in general is always kind of a drag (I am so ready for sweaters and scarves), but when there is no breeze and the heat from the sun simply refracts off the concrete and glass there is no release.

Practical Magic might be the dumbest movie ever. Yet I haven't turned the channel.

I have to be in court in the morning, do a deposition at 2, and deal with a conference call with an opposing attorney and a judge at 3:45. Boss #2 is on trial, so I thought Boss #1 would at least handle one of these. Nope. He'll be chilling in his office all day while I run around like a chicken with its head cut off. Grr.

Another reason women are freaks.

First I read this. And rolled my eyes.

Then I read this. And cheered.

The Best Wednesday Ever!

My day at a glance:

8am: get out of bed. (happy that I had the chance to sleep in because of today's deposition at which I had to arrive at 10.)

8:25am: hear on TV that the 1,2, and 3 lines are shut down because of flooding.

9am: leave my apartment planning on walking to the A/C lines to get downtown.

9:15: arrive at the A/C lines to discover that they are not running, but the #1 train is.

9:25: get on the #1 downtown.

9:45: arrive at Columbus Circle, an announcement is made that no trains are going any further downtown, and commuters should try to take a bus.

10am. 10:15. 10:20. 5 bursting full buses pass where I and many others are waiting.

10:30: Boss #1 calls me while walking (and walking and walking) to the office. He tells me to sit tight while he tries to find out if the deposition is going forward or whether I should just try to make my way to the office. Not that I could hop a cab anyway as they are all full.

10:30-11: I "sit tight" (read: standing, sweating, dripping, muttering) and chat with others who are similarly stranded.

11:10: I haven't heard from anyone. I walk to Times Square and take the N train, which seems to be the only one going anywhere further downtown.

11:30: get out at City Hall, after witnessing a fistfight on the subway platform. Contemplate jumping into the fountain in the middle of City Hall Plaza.

11:35: Check my voicemail, which tells me to forget the deposition and just get to work when I can.

12pm: arrive at the office, pant cuffs rolled up to capris length, glistening with my own sweat and probably that of other people (ew), and sit down in my nice air conditioned office.

12:45: we get a call that someone needs to appear in criminal court on a case. Fuck. Immediately I know it's gonna be me.

2:15: show up in court, call out the client's name (because I've never met her) in the hallway and softer in the courtroom.

2:30: Call out the client's name again.

2:45: Client shows up.

3:45: get back to the office. Realize I may die of starvation, having eaten nothing but a yogurt and way too much iced coffee all day.

4pm: Scarf down a quite delicious and hearty salad. Definitely the highlight of the day.

6pm: Arrive at the gym. Work out for all of 40 minutes.

7:45: Arrive home. After a very slow subway ride. But at least it was running. Proceed to crank up the air conditioner and take a long cool shower.

Attention, MTA New York City Transit: the terrorists are taking notes. You fuck up this badly because of some rain, and you expect us to swallow a fare hike in the next year? Please.

Also, there shouldn't be tornados in Brooklyn. Ever. I'm blaming George Bush. As usual.

There's really no PC way to say this.

But being PC is so '90s and totally overrated and unhelpful.

So. Here's my gripe.

I have a problem with Latino men. Not all of them. Only the distinct subset who adhere to the machismo mindset that it is perfectly acceptable to make physical, visual, and auditory references to girls and women who are simply walking down the fucking street. I realize that all men check out women. We do a lot of checking out of our own. Believe you me. However, I cannot describe how much I prefer the subtle once overs and subdued eye contact to the in your face bullshit that seems to only come from Latino men.

Has living in New York made me a racist? I don't think so. This is how I feel. I had a conversation with my mom about it. My mother. Who has been on many national panels and given presentations at numerous conferences about her work in all things race-related. We came to the conclusion that as long as I continue with the meta-awareness, I shouldn't feel guilty about my thoughts and feelings. So I don't.

And I didn't, again, when just now on the way home I was faced with another example of pure cultural indecency. Assholes.

To end on a less inflammatory note, The Bourne Ultimatum was not exactly excellent, but highly entertaining nonetheless. It's rare that people actually clap both during and after a movie.

Getting Out of Town

does a body (and mind) good.

I went to visit the 'rents for a few days to be taken care of, and it was glorious. And then I got back to the muggy smelly city to get through the next two weeks until I can spend a week lying on the beach. Ahhh.

The only thing that sucked about the weekend was Amtrak. I feel like it used to be somewhat highbrow, and now it's as shitty as the rest of the country's modes of transportation. Unexpected and unexplained delays, overcrowding, bad customer service, etc. And I fell asleep with my right leg bent in some awful position and now my knee really fucking hurts. (I guess that's not Amtrak's fault, but I'll blame them anyway.)

Only in New York

I'm doing better. Still sad, but you good people don't need to hear more of that. So instead, I'll share this little tidbit with you:

I was standing in line at the drug store around 3pm when a very drunk and quite well dressed gentleman stumbled in, proceeded to come right up to little old me (dressed in business casual - not exactly looking like a store employee) and slurred "I just closed a million dollar deal and had a 4 hour lunch. Can you tell me where the aspirin is? And some water?" I simply said "Um, I don't work here." And what did he say? "Well, in that case, whaddya say you and me go start having an early dinner?"

After not so delicately extricating myself from the situation (i.e., cutting the line to quickly pay for my shampoo and magazine) I went back to the office and saw that this was the #1 most emailed article in the Times today.

Huh.