Of All the Things to Say

I had a light hearted post planned earlier today, but I witnessed something today that I feel demands immediate attention.

I went to see The Kingdom this afternoon. It's a rock 'em sock 'em yet thought provoking political drama about terrorism in Saudi Arabia. Basically, anything Peter Berg does I love. The movie ends on a morally ambiguous yet poignant note that implies, however cheesy it may sound outside of the movie's context, that we are more similar to "the terrorists" than we might like to admit.

Upon leaving the theater, two couples got into some kind of scuffle. Not sure what it was about - maybe someone stepped on someone's toes. The men started to raise their voices, and, in a moment to pure fury (which I was close enough to witness), one said to the other, "Why don't you just go back where you came from!"

It was visceral. And a slap in the face. Not just to the other man, but to the rest of us. I felt it. The communal experience of sitting in a darkened theater for a couple hours was ripped away, along with everything the film tried so earnestly to impart upon us.

Friday Dog Blogging: Happiness is a Warm Puppy.

Yes, I've stolen it from Legally Blonde and E. McPan.

I've think I've lost the battle of trying to keep this throw pillow a people pillow.



And then there's this. I'm not really sure what's going on here. Although, I was making oogly googly noises at her, so it's probably something like "oh my god I've had a long day of napping and grazing and watching Bruce on the Today Show (thanks for always leaving the TV on for a little while in the morning!*) so now I'm tired and tomorrow's my birthday so would you please just shut up?"



*I put it on sleep for an hour. Otherwise she gets vocally angry when I leave in the morning.

How awesome is the NYC dating scene?

So, so awesome. An example from an email exchange today:

Me: Did you have drinks with that guy yet?
K: Drinks were last night. It was awful. The guy was awkward, and very negative, and maybe kind of racist? It was weird. Glad it's over.

Yeah. Like I said, awesome.

Also, a shout out to my Law School Alumni Association: fuck you and your request for any more of my money.

xoxoxo,
Me

I HATE unseasonably hot weather.

More than I dislike hot weather in general.

It's almost October. It shouldn't be 87 degrees today. As per usual, I'm blaming George Bush. My air conditioner had a nice week long break, and I was looking forward to the lower bill, and now I have to turn it on again for poor little furry Chloe. Yes, she has plenty of water, but she's 14 (in three days - ah!), and I'm a sap.

I've waited 4 long months.

But it's finally here, you guys!

That's right...season premiere week! If you haven't already, set your DVRs...and check out my recommendations to the right...

God damnit, Hillary.

Didn't you criticize Bush for not being able to apologize or admit he was wrong? They why the fuck can't you do it? Your vote for the war was wrong! And still you keep spewing the "if I had the information then that I do now I wouldn't have voted that way blah blah blah". You're a politician, no different from the rest of them. I don't care if you have the most relevant experience of the democrats. I hate you.

And Tim Russert, you need to stop letting people, especially the candidates, get away with bullshit answers.

"I'm just so tired, Billy. I never thought I'd be so tired at 22."

Um, how about at 26? Am I allowed to be so tired now?

Probably not, considering, unlike Jules, I'm not a party hopping cocaine snorting fashionista of the '80s who's sleeping with my boss and contemplating how to dispose of the remains of my stepmonster while downing vodka like water.

Wow, Rob Lowe's eyelashes are out of control in this movie. As is Ally Sheedy's hair, in the not so pretty way.

Dear "Homeless" Guy on the Subway,

I usually tune ya'll out when you tell your sad stories and beg and plead for money, but today something caught my attention about you. I'd seen and heard you before. Telling the same story about how you and your wife just suffered a fire in your home a few days ago and now you have nothing and are waiting for help from the Red Cross. About how you were just given the clothes you are wearing by a kind samaritan but have nothing to feed your children tonight. About how you know we work hard for our money but any little bit will help, "even just a smile."

You may think that ending is sweet, but it's a dead give away when it absolutely confirms to me that I've heard it before. Months ago. Did you and your wife suffer another fire in your quickly rebuilt house? I don't think so. You're a fucking liar.

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In other news, I'd like to thank the Kentucky Higher Education Loan Servicing Corporation and The Student Loan People for increasing my monthly payments by $120 as of October 1st. Golly, you guys sure know how to turn a girl on.

Live Blogging The Emmy Awards

Full Disclosure: When I had roommates, and could skip class the next morning if I wanted to, I used to actually watch these award shows with people. Not anymore. So I have to get the comments out of my head somehow. Clearly I watch a lot of TV. Not too much. I do have a job. And kind of a life. And some of it's on while I'm doing other things. But there's a lot of good TV. I don't watch the bad TV.

However, it must be said, the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences has had its head up its ass for years. But that doesn't stop me from watching the beautiful rich people congratulating themselves.

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Terry O'Quinn? Yay Locke, you infuriating mindfucker! Academy, am I wrong about you?

Katherine Heigl, I love you. You're so pretty. And not a stick. (sidebar: the sight of Felicity Huffman's ribs through her skin really saddens me.) And you brought your mom. But if Izzie doesn't get her shit together this season, I'm gonna start holding you responsible. Talk some sense into the writers, please.

Remember when Christina used to be jealous of Britney? Hee.

Kiefer's a horseman? I wanna go riding.

I should watch Roots. I love me some miniseries. I own The Thorn Birds. Shut up.

Hayden Panettiere, you are young and beautiful. Why are you wearing what appears to be a maternity dress?

And the Emmy goes to The Sopranos. Shocking. (Peter Berg, I will love you 'til the end.)

And the Emmy goes to The Sopranos. Academy, clearly you're still lobotomized.

The Daily Show rightfully wins: "This year we actually got to send a couple guys to Iraq. And they found laughs in hell." 'nuff said.

Who watches Criminal Minds? Anyone? Bueller?

Christ. The show is over. It ended on a big fat note of suckage. Let's move on. Stop clapping. Everyone off the stage. You too Gandolfini.

How long will The Age of Mirren last exactly?

Lewis Black is a fucking genius.

The less Ryan Seacrest is actually on screen, the better.

God, Felicity, do you have a tapeworm?

Yay Sally Field!! Um, wait a minute? Did they just BLEEP OUT Sally Field because she was talking about how if mothers ruled the world there would be no war?! Fuck you, Fox.

Shit, I have to be up mad early. Why are these things so long?

Oooh, Debra Messing looks hot. (Clearly any wit I had has devolved with tiredness.)

Ugly my ass. America Ferrera is drop dead beautiful.

FUCK. James Spader. Again. So over-rated. And he's aged badly. Kinda marshmellowy. Was that mean? Fuck it. He has more money than I or anyone I know ever will.

I really gotta get on the 30 Rock bandwagon.

Aaaaaaaaaand The Sopranos. Knock me over with a feather.

Although, David Chase did have a last good line: "If this nation were run by gangsters...well, maybe it is." Heh.

Fuck. Tomorrow's Monday.

Am I Really This Boring?

Well, yes. But it's actually kind of pleasant, so I don't mind.

Yesterday, I came home from work, spiffed up the apartment (what is it about Lemon Pledge that reminds me of Grandma?), gave Chloe a desperately needed bath, took a nice hot bath myself, ordered some Thai food, gabbed with an old friend while watching recorded episodes of Buffy, and crashed at 11 pm.

Today, I ran for an hour in Riverside Park, enjoying the crisp air and first falling leaves, cooked an awesome breakfast burrito (why do I always feel the need to list the meals?), will likely finish the pot of cinnamon spice coffee I brewed, and am watching Alias on Fox 5 even though I own all five seasons and have seen every episode multiple times.

Ahh, and here's a text message about going out plans for tonight. Sigh. I'm gonna go, because I need to keep up some semblance of being a social individual. But I find myself wishing for the Saturday nights I had way back when. Going to the movies, sleepovers, cookie cakes (kudos to those who know what I'm talking about) playing dumb games or making up dance routines in someone's awesome finished basement where we felt secluded and special, and no one whined about which bar they did or didn't want to go to because he or she might run into so and so and we can't have that now can we?

I'm an adult. I know. Damn it.

Head screwed on? Maybe. But not tightly enough.

Good news: I had to throw on a hoodie over my t shirt to take Chloe out this morning because of the chill.

Bad news: I walked out of my apartment in said t shirt and hoodie. And underwear and flip flops. And that's it. Because sometimes I sleep in just the t shirt (granted its kind of a long t shirt).

Two seconds after the door shut I realized I'm an idiot and scooted back in to put something over my little flowered cotton briefs.

Sheesh.

It was a Tuesday then too.

But it was dark and threatening and raining today, unlike Tuesday six years ago.

My office overlooks ground zero. And this was the first year I've been in New York City since 9/11, when I got out of the subway at 8:45 to get to my internship 3 blocks from the WTC. When I heard a loud buzzing, looked up, and saw the first plane hit. When I was so confused thinking to myself "why are there feathers coming out of the building?" when it was thousands of pieces of paper. When something like that happens your brain does funny things at first. I finally got in touch with my family 4 hours later, and I was literally scared my mom was going to collapse out of relief from hearing my voice.

It's different outside of New York. It's different within New York. Midtown is different than downtown. Yes, everyone should and has moved on to some extent. But 9/11 did affect the entire world. Not in the way George Bush says it did. But it did.

I'll save my whining and crazy dream for tomorrow's post. Cuz it's not about me today.

I Never Knew What "Goosebumps" Were.

Until I read this article this morning. (To note, I do read the rest of the Times as well. I just read the style section first. While the coffee's kicking in.)

I've started and erased a few posts today.

Just my usual Sunday overthinking thing that I do. Gotta stop that.

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And now I've edited this tiny post twice. This second time because I just saw that I went to school with one of the happy brides profiled in the weddings section. Fuck. As if I need another reason to feel bad about myself. Then again, my former classmate (who I remember as sweet, intelligent, and pretty and I really should be happy and not bitter) could always wind up here.

Giving

So I was watching Oprah a little while ago.

(Sidebar: No, I'm never home at 4pm. I Tivo Oprah. Shut up. I don't watch every episode, but a lot of them are interesting, inspiring, hilarious, or downright practical. So yes, I record Oprah.)

A couple days ago Bill Clinton was on the show promoting his new book, and they did a little segment about a young girl who has undergone a shit load of medical problems in her own life and yet focused her energy on raising money for kids who have been orphaned by AIDS in Africa:

Anyway. Tears. I have a little volunteer project of my own in the works, but it's not a done deal yet, so I don't wanna jinx it.

Also, I miss you Bill. A lot. I'm still not so fond of your wife though.

Tell Me I'm Pretty.

Because sometimes I need to be told. Like when I see a bunch of perfectly coiffed female attorneys with perfect hair and perfect suits and perfectly professional looking makeup and gorgeous jewelry and well, I could go on.

I often air dry my hair on the subway. It's still shiny and healthy and nice. I do actually rejoice in my hair. But there are fly aways. And I throw it up in messy buns and knots almost every afternoon. My eye and lip makeup usually consists of mascara and lip gloss, and I own maybe three nice necklaces and pairs of earrings. Rings? Never got into them. And clearly the left ring finger will be bare for the foreseeable future.

I have nice suits. And nice shoes. And a couple nice bags. Yet I can't seem to put it all together without looking like I'm trying too damn hard instead of looking effortlessly perfect.

And the nails. Oh, the nails. I. Just. Don't. Care. I think spending money on manicures is a big fat waste. I've always been a picker - not a a biter, a picker. But it's produces the same effect. Bad nails. I occasionally brush some innocuous color on them, and have made sure my toenails have been colored and presentable in summer shoes for the past few months. But again. I don't care about my damn nails.

All in all, over a year out of school, and I probably still look like a law student pretending to be a lawyer. Maybe when I feel more lawyerly (which is definitely happening slowly over time), I'll gain that effortless physical coiffed-ness I admire in others.

Or I'll just have fly aways and bad nails for the rest of my life.

Tuesday Tidings

I think my air conditioner is making me sick, but I can't figure out how to change the filter in the damn thing. Phhbt.

This arrived from Amazon today. I really had to force myself to not rip it open and insert a disc into my computer at work. Season premiere October 5th. Be there. Or be dead to me.

I was at a karaoke bar until the wee hours of Labor Day morning. I am just fully getting my voice back now. Along with my sobriety.

I'm going to a CLE course Friday and Saturday from 9-5. Do I take notes? Like school?