Frus. Trate. D.

I have a conference on a case tomorrow that is the bane of my existence. Literally. I'd rather claw my eyes and dunk my head in acid than deal with the judge, clients, issues, attorney, witnesses, and bullshit that is this case.

I have to go to a somewhat swanky fundraiser tomorrow night where the majority of women will probably be dressed like baby hookers and, not that I would dress like that, but I don't have time to go home after work, change, and get to the damn thing in time for the free drinks.

I've been stressing out about, wait for it, the high school sophomore who I mentor and the fact that she hasn't been doing what she's supposed to be doing to get into a good summer academic program, i.e., get her father's tax returns to the appropriate financial aid people. If I get attitude from anyone about this, I'm this close to dropping out of the damn program. Like I need this.

Every bone in my body aches.

I have to bill 33 more hours between now and the end of the month, i.e. 5 days from now, in order to meet my quota to get my first quarterly bonus. I know that's doable - I just don't fucking want to. If shit doesn't HAVE to be done RIGHT NOW, it pisses me off that I have to work on the weekends. I don't think I'm cut our for lawyering like this. Can I just work for the Center for Constitutional Rights and write briefs all day and have long constitutional arguments with coworkers? No? Well, fuck you too.

One of my very best friends is leaving New York for a bigger better job in Chicago. I'm quite sad. Although, I will now have an excuse to get my butt to Chicago to visit her, and when I'm there, I'm totally calling on Grace, Namby, and any others of you who are in Chicago but I don't know it.

The fucking dry cleaners LOST my beautiful knit merino sweater that I've had since high school. They said they would give me $75 as payment. I don't remember how much I paid for that sweater back in 1998, but $75 isn't nearly enough to cover the sentimental value.