"Ray, when someone asks you if you're a god, you say "YES"!"

Normally, a very true point. Thank you, Winston.

However, when crazy subway dude is the one asking if you are a goddess, you should probably say no, so as not to egg on the crazy:

8:45am: on the train to court reading over my file and minding my own business. Crazy Turrettes Man (CTM) approaches, steps on my foot, apologizes profusely, I smile and mumble "That's ok". CTM proceeds to crouch down, pat the top of my patent leather ballet flat, to which I repeat, "really, it's ok" and shift slightly away from him.

CTM sidles up next to me, and begins to intently stare. And then, rocking back and forth and twitching, "You're so beautiful. Are you a goddess? Are you a goddess? So beautiful. My phone number is..." He then repeated his phone number about ten times, before I mercifully arrived at my stop and quickly hopped/ran off the train.

CTM, believe me, if I were a goddess, I would have somehow used my power to make you disappear.

Well that was fun.

I think I might never leave home again. I could get a big tree (thanks to my high ceilings), some lights, and have a nice quiet little Christmas in New York, drinking hot toddies and watching Home Alone on the big flatscreen I plan to buy.

But I probably won't. I'll probably suck it up and trek to Aunt Crazy and Uncle Deacon's* house for more fun times where insults are strewn like garland and passive aggression is the main course.

Let's just say I was hoping for/inexplicably expecting comfort and joy. And was greeted with other people's insecurities, issues, stupidity, hurtfulness, and thoughtlessness. Happy Holidays indeed!



*Uncle Deacon deserves some explanation. Born a Brooklyn Jew with the rest of my mom's family, he converted to Catholicism about 15 years ago, got his second Ph.D. in theology, and is now a Deacon in the Catholic Church. Like any good Catholic, he has a lot of issues he's never dealt with/fully admitted. Also like any good Catholic, he projects his issues onto others by telling them what they're doing wrong in their own lives. (I'm not just picking on Catholics - I'm an equal opportunity hater of all religions.)

I bet you're already left for the long weekend, huh?

Packing for three days shouldn't be that much of a challenge. But when there's going to be a 25 degree temperature change during the three days, it's really fucking annoying. I thought we were done with the damn 60s temperatures for the year. God.

Also making me bitter is the fact that I have to lug my damn rolling bag with me to court tomorrow morning. Logistically, there's just no other way to do it. It's only a scheduling conference, which rarely requires even seeing the judge. Definitely no heels. Maybe not even a full suit. Scandalous!

Happy Thanksgiving to all. Try not to eat too much, and only drink enough to make the insanity/stupidity/passive aggressiveness around you turn warm and fuzzy from its usual quality of nails on a chalkboard.

See you on the flip side. That is if I survive Penn Station on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.

I just want to order chinese food and go to sleep.

I went to Philadelphia this weekend to watch my friend, who we'll call "Phil," run the Philly Marathon.

It was cold and rainy but incredibly awesome. I am totally going to run one. I may have done a half marathon 3 1/2 years ago at this point and never run more than 6 miles at a time now, but I can do it, right? Right. Just not in the 3 hours and 45 minutes Phil did it in.

We got there late Saturday afternoon, had a nice dinner, after which Phil promptly went to bed at 9pm, and the rest of us went out on the town. I of course was ready to hit the sack by 11, but was forced to stay out (even if my head was down on the table) until 2.

We were up by 7, to catch sight of Phil at mile 9 at 8:15. Phrases upon getting up:

"I hate Phil."
"Phil's a bastard."
"I'm throwing banana peels at Phil."
"I may throw up on Phil as he runs by."

And me: "Move it, guys. I need a very large coffee."

Phil upon crossing the finish line: 2 minutes of inability to speak, and then "cold...feel like crap."

So yeah, I want to run one.

Then, last night, I somewhat deleriously prepared for my motion hearing today, and was feeling ready and confident this morning. And then opposing counsel walked in and requested an adjournment because his partner, who is handling the case and motion, had a death in the family and couldn't appear. Talk about a freaking let-down. I was pumped! Ready to kick ass! And had to simply pack up and go back to the office. Stupid dead person. (Not really, but you know what I mean.)

But I have another motion argument tomorrow on a similar case with equally complicated issues, so now I have to go over that stuff. Too bad I literally can't keep my eyes open.

I basically won't be sleeping until Thanksgiving.

Hence the lack of posting. Maybe Sunday, when I'm freaking out about the oral argument I'm doing on Monday.

Now I have to prepare a handout for my mentees for tomorrow. About the importance of AP classes in high school. Like I remember. Whatev.

Oh How I Wish it Were Next Wednesday

I really really really don't feel like going to work today. Raise your hand if you're with me.


---------------------------------

UPDATE: 7:54pm.

I really need to trust my instincts more. I should have called in sick. Which I've never done in almost a year. What a horrible day. Note to those lucky enough to have underlings: When you're on trial and send mistyped crackberry emails every half hour asking for caselaw that stands for x/y/z proposition, make sure you provide enough info so your associate isn't scrambling and half-guessing as to what you want causing her to almost punch the wall and pull her hair out.

Where's my wine.

Coincidence.

I went to see Michael Clayton this afternoon (not by myself for once). It was excellent, although I still have one plot-related question.* And then I came home to an email from a headhunter, who a friend had referred me to, about meeting this week and possibly setting up some interview at large firms.

I think I'll wait until tomorrow to email her back, when the movie's insinuations have decreased.




*About the horses. Email me.

How to Spend a Saturday

Sleep very badly for various reasons on Friday night.

Somehow stumble out of bed at 8 and go running in cold. Feel invigorated.

Spend 11-3 being a mentor for impressionable youth. (If they only knew.)

Browse Sephora for 30 minutes because when you only actually needed mascara. Buy said mascara and overpriced Philosophy shower gel.

Come home and crash on the couch for a few hours, dozing and screening calls.

Make some peppermint tea, and manage to somehow spill near boiling water on your toes.

Explain to friend that an apartment party in Brooklyn where you are bound to run into the one person from college you swore you'd never intentionally see again is not how you want to spend your Saturday night.

Instead, spend your Saturday night making breakfast for dinner (veggie omelet and toast) and re-watching season 2 of Alias, even though you have movies from Netflix which you've never seen before, because you prefer the familiarity of sexy spies kicking ass.

I Think I Might Be a Tease

I don't mean to be one. It might be because I possibly have some, um, intimacy issues? Well, issues of some sort. Let me say that I know people hate Meredith because she's dark and twisty and whiny and can't commit to a perfect neurosurgeon who loves her. But I totally get her. Although I guess she's more of a slut (in a nice way!) than a tease. Like me.

Gym Ettiquette 101

Or, How to Lose a Not Even Potential Client.

Bottom line: I don't like personal trainers. They're overpriced and overly excited. I can copy the exercises I see them showing other people. For free.

So, this morning at the gym, I'm stretching on the mats following 40 minutes of hill intervals and a few sets of bicep and tricep curls. It's approaching 8am, and I'm about to make my way to the locker room. Suddenly, "Tony" (I bet they're all named Tony) starts chatting me up about my workout habits and whether I've had my free fitness assessment and I should come to his kickboxing class on Friday. After I took my headphones out to feign interest/be polite (headphones! the international sign of "Don't talk to me"), Tony inexplicably says, "You're what, 21?"

Oh Tony. I admit, I may look young for my age. Especially redfaced with my sweaty hair pulled back wearing college mesh shorts and a t-shirt. But really Tony, you're not doing yourself any favors here. And you're going to make me late for court.

Darkness Falls

I hate to steal the title of some stupid slasher flick I've never seen, but there you go.

The fact that it's 5:30 and pitch black makes me so tired. Although I may just be tired because I've literally spent the entire day freaking out about my career. Some friends at BigLaw have given me the names of headhunters and recruiters who I emailed today and hopefully I'll be able to meet with at least one of them. I don't necessarily want to switch firms, and have no idea if a large firm would even hire me (or if I want to be there) even though I have the credentials and more hands on experience than the nitwits who've been sitting in windowless offices for a year. All I know is I need more money, and in order to bring bargaining power to the negotiating table with my current bosses, I need some options under my belt. I've been putting this whole thing off for a couple months now, out of fear, confusion, and uncertainty. My negotiation class in law school was a complete joke (and after this whole process I may write a letter to the school about what they should really teach in that damn class that will actually be useful for graduates). I'm up against master negotiators who do it every day for clients. And it's worse for women.

Sigh. I planned on sending an email today asking for a meeting for sometime this week. But now I think I should wait until I have some concrete information in my grasp. But then we'll be smack into the holidays. Is that a bad time to do this kind of thing? Or a better time?

The whole thing makes me want to crawl into my mother's arms and stay there until she makes it better.

In No Particular Order

Things that are currently freaking me out:

1. Lance and Ashley. Ew.
2. It's November. And yesterday was July.
3. I can get drunk off a single glass of wine.
4. My dog is currently having some kind of dream in which she is running, but she hasn't woken up.
5. My lease is up in January and I really want to move.
6. I need a raise in order to move.
7. I have to ask for a raise. Like, now.
8. What happened to Tim Gunn's Guide to Style? There were only 4 episodes!
9. When I was 10, I thought 15 year olds were damn worldly. When I was 18, I figured I would have my life TOGETHER by the age of 25. I'm almost 27, and am now slightly terrified of what lays ahead. (This probably deserves its own post. But not now.)
10. There's apparently a hurricane headed for all of the northeast. Or something.
11. I don't think I'm gonna make it t0 November 2008. I feel like the entire country may implode by the time the election actually rolls around. And since the past two election nights involved heavy drinking and, at least in 2004 when we really knew what we were dealing with, heavy crying, I'm not really looking forward to it.
12. My slightly slutty sister (many a time have I heard "what? I just like sex") has two dates this weekend with two different guys. I have tentative social plans that probably won't come to fruition.
13. I've been going to see movies alone lately. Sunday afternoons, when people cancel on me because they're a) hungover, b) flaky, or c) no one wants to see what I want to see. I'm trying to view sitting in a theater alone as decadent rather than pathetic. It's not like watching a movie involves talking to another person anyway, right? Shut up.
14. I'm willing to pay more rent to live in a smaller place. Manhattan sucks.
15. I miss Julia Roberts. Where'd she go?