And so it begins.

The job search, that is.

Merry Happy Thanksgiving New Christmas Hanukkah Year.

There are two topics that should be outlawed from being discussed at holiday family gatherings: significant others and money.

So what was I asked about on five different occasions by three different people?

1. So, are you seeing anyone?
2. So how much money are you making now?

My answers? Stand there awkwardly and take a gulp of wine.

First of all, if I were seeing anyone I would want you to know about, I WOULD BE EXCITED ENOUGH TO TELL YOU.

Second, I make more money than you, but I also live in the most expensive city in the world and am $150,000 in debt. So you're actually in a better financial situation than I am at the current moment, and thank you for reminding me I never should have gone to law school. I appreciate it.

This is fucking insane. I know it happens at least once every year, but this guy was just going to work and probably dreading dealing with such assholes at 5am, and how do they thank him? By trampling him to death. If any of these people have more than $1000 worth of credit card debt, they should have been the ones stomped to death. I'm not usually very pro-plaintiff when it comes to things like this, but I'd represent this guy's family in a heartbeat.

It's a short week.

I can totally do it. Absolutely. No problem.

Damnit I just want to go back to sleep.

I'm still 12 years old.

Oh, the joys and perils of Facebook.

A while back, I was friended (I love that "friend" is now a verb) by a boy. Let's call him Brad. Because he was the Brad Pitt of my junior high school. In 6th grade, Brad tripped me at a roller skating birthday party. I broke all four fingers in the growth plate of my left hand. There was a cast. There was what I can only describe as an ancient torture device in which the doctors made me place my fingers in mesh wiring and then they pulled it tight to straighten out the joints. There was screaming.

A group of my junior high classmates have a Facebook group in which we sort of keep in touch, write funny things, etc. You know how it goes. I wrote something about this infamous roller skating party - a sort of tongue in cheek "favorite memory."

Low and behold, today I received a message from Brad. In sum, he's always felt terrible about what happened and how I got hurt, and he realizes "what a little asshole" he used to be.

I hate myself for feeling this way and admitting it, but I've been...giddy all day because of this damn email. What the hell is wrong with me? We were 12. Yes, I had a crush on him. Everyone had a crush on him. The female teachers had a crush on him. I wouldn't be surprised if the male ones did too.

It's been six hours, and I'm still thinking about good old Brad. How can someone still have power over me like that? In every "measurable" aspect of life, I win. I live in Manhattan. He lives in the same podunk town in NJ where we grew up. I'm a lawyer. He works at his family's store. I know this sounds bitchy. I can't help it.

Oh Brad.

This post has no point.

My sister is coming to visit on Friday and is staying through Thanksgiving weekend. She's staying at her friend's apartment (the friend will be out of town) about twenty blocks away, which is probably a good thing because having her stay with me in my spacious yet cozy studio apartment for ten days would probably spell death for both of us by day 4. I haven't seen her since August 2007 (!!) but we talk a lot on the phone and online. I'm looking forward to her visit but I'm not looking forward to the money I will undoubtedly spend on frivolous items while she is here.

It's 11pm on a Saturday night and I'm watching Save The Last Dance on TNT? I turned down an offer to go see the new Bond flick because I fell asleep after doing three hours of work and couldn't rouse myself enough to get from my apartment to the movie theater. That would require, you know, putting on something other than sweat pants.

I ran this morning in the pouring rain. I mean downpour. I looked like I had jumped in a pool. It was kinda fun until I had a terrible thought that my ipod earphones could maybe electrocute me and fry my brain.

I have crossed over to the dark side.

I just spent the last hour reorganizing my closet according to the following parameters:

Suits
Dress Pants
Skirts
Button down shirts
Other Tops
Sweaters
Camisoles
Jackets

Within each category, items are organized by color. Within each color, they hang according to type of fabric.

Someone needs a life. And that someone is me. Before I attack my dresser drawers too.

Eye Contact!

It's totally true.

It's Morning in America.

Yes.

I love Anderson Cooper's tie.

And that's all I'm gonna say. I was supposed to have friends come over, but everyone is dropping out for one reason or another. Stuck at work (corporate lawyers suck and I never want to be one), too tired, etc. So I'm here alone with Grey Goose and takeout menus. Although my blackberry is buzzing constantly because even if my friends are all separated we're constantly emailing.

Which network should I watch? I'm flipping around too much.

Don't forget to turn your clocks back tonight.

The NYC Marathon is tomorrow, and running through Central Park today I got to see the finish area being all set up. And I found myself wishing I were running it! I guess I caught the marathon bug. The NYC Marathon is notoriously difficult to get into, but I have a (small) shot with the lottery system for 2009. We'll see what happens.

John McCain! Not Hussein! OMG! So clever! I give Palin props (no one is more shocked than I am) for ignoring them if she did in fact hear them.

I am not assuming ANYTHING here, but if Obama pulls this thing off, does anyone think Bristol Palin is actually gonna marry that fuckin' redneck? His words, not mine.

Finally, I adjourned a court appearance that was scheduled for this coming Wednesday morning to the following week. Why? Because I can, and because I have a feeling it's going to be a late night.