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.

Cringe

In honor of our nation's independence, I slept in:) Training-wise, Friday is a rest day. Which are "just as important as hard and easy days." So I'm taking full advantage. I may venture out to a bookstore later before trekking across town to join a million people to watch the fireworks (weather permitting), but mostly I will be napping and watching bad TV.

Speaking of which, has anyone ever watched that 4th hour of the Today Show? With Hoda Kotbe and, ahem, Kathie Lee Gifford? It doesn't just make you roll your eyes. It's more like wincing. No one ever said Kathie Lee was brilliant, but um, did anyone ever notice she's a kind of a racist idiot in that ever-annoying innocent kind of way? There's not only this, but also this morning's god-awful imitation of her Chinese driver's accent and how they have scintillating conversations because he barely speaks a word of English. Hey Kathie Lee, I'm pretty sure he's faking it. If I had to drive your sorry ass around town, I would pretend I didn't speak English either.

On that note, happy 4th everyone!

I may have to do work tomorrow.

But I don't have to go to work tomorrow. And that makes all the difference.*

I've been a bad blogger this week. Family drama is uninteresting to anyone else, and nothing else has really held my attention lately. I almost went to see Indiana Jones today and would post a (probably tepid) review, but both the 7 and 8 pm shows were sold out and we didn't feel like waiting or seeing anything else. So we went to the nearest bar and flirted with sailors instead. Quite unfortunately, there was no dancing to Al Green. Honestly, I don't think these boys (and I do mean boys) would know who Al Green is.

Sigh.

Update: 12:35 am. Why am I unable to turn off The Silence of the Lambs on TNT and go to bed? Fuck. OOH! Catherine Martin, a/k/a the Senator's daughter who gets kidnapped by Buffalo Bill a/k/a Brooke Smith, is Dr. Erica Hahn on Grey's! Talk about learning something new every day. I want to join the FBI. Will they pay back my loans?




*In all honesty, Memorial Day is the one "yay it's a Monday holiday" for which I actually try to think of the purpose and meaning behind the day off. We all should. But I'm still glad I don't have to dress up and go to the office.

I'm In!

And stealing wireless access from "Joe1". How original.

I'm 70% unpacked and 100% tired. And Chloe seems a little freaked out by all the movement and confusion over the past few days. She's started licking a spot on her paw that has gotten all red and raw, but I don't think she ever got cut or injured at all. I put some calendula (a homeopathic ointment) and a gauze wrap on it and she hasn't tried to get it off yet, so hopefully that will help.

I think I lost my digital camera. I saw it a few days ago while packing. And then went to look for it and it was gone. I don't remember packing it. The only other person who was in and out of the apartment while I was packing was the super. I'll wait until I'm fully unpacked before fully jumping to conclusions...

Oh yeah, happy new year.

Stress? Me? No way.

I'm surrounded by boxes, clothing, suitcases, and dusty furniture. And I banged my knee earlier and it fucking hurts.

Christmas was...ok. The usual drama was there, but the presents seemed to take the edge off. I slept a lot, saw a couple movies, and slept some more. But now I'm back here packing and trying to get rid of about 20% of my shitty belongings. Hasn't been worn in a year? Gone. Don't know what the gadget/manual/gizmo is for? It's gone.

I may have to polish off the wine in the fridge. Better than pouring it down the drain, right?

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Update. 9:30pm.

I gave up for the night. And, brilliantly, decided to watch Rob Zombie's Halloween. And now I don't think I'm ever leaving these walls again.

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.

Trick or Treat.

I luuuurve Halloween. I saw Pet Semetary when I was 8 years old (parents? yeah I don't know) and have been a horror movie freak ever since. Many a night was obviously spent on my parents' bedroom floor or in their bed, but I just love being scared. There's probably (definitely) something wrong with me.

Aww. Poor Chloe is losing her voice (bark) from saying hi to the adorable costumed children coming to the door.

I'm hoping what I heard last night was fireworks and not gun shots.

I've never been a huge fan of the 4th of July. It's hot (although this year isn't bad), I once got scarily close to some fireworks as a kid, and as someone who has never eaten a bite of red meat in her entire life, bbqs don't do much for me. Oh, and of course I obviously hate America*.

However, the fact that I got to sleep until 10:30 on a WEDNESDAY is flat out awesome. Never will I disparage a day off.



*Kidding. Kind of.

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Update: 10:50pm

Well, I attempted to be patriotic and watch the fireworks from my friend's apartment building rooftop overlooking the East River. But it wasn't just raining. It was pouring. So we lasted all of 20 minutes before deciding the better view was actually from our respective couches. Oh well.

Now the oh-so-brilliant drunkards outside my building are having their own fun with fireworks. I'll give them another 15 minutes (because I'm such a fun loving gal) before I start to wish that they blow up a body part or two in the midst of their celebrations.

Happy Fucking Valentine's Day.

I think I've officially forgotten what a good kiss feels like.

I do, however, know what a good glass of wine feels like.

Here's to loneliness, er, "freedom."

The Search for the Perfect Apartment, Part II

Well.

That was...eventful. In some good ways and some bad.

The good news is that I found a place. After seeing a bunch of tiny postage stamp size studios and one bedroom places, I decided I should widen my geographic preferences a bit and find something better. The place I picked is beautiful, huge, allows dogs, and is very decently priced. I won't feel secure for another few days of course because everything took longer than expected and the lease is being FedEx'd to me, but hopefully there won't be a problem.

The bad news is...a lot:

1. Car got towed. Our fault in misreading the damn signs, but still really fucking annoying. And fucking expensive.

2. The bait and switch. We lost almost a half a day of searching due to the assholicness of a broker who led me to believe the apartment he was showing me was a no-fee apartment when it wasn't and then who never even showed up to where I was supposed to meet him. Dick.

3. Shady/fraudulent "landlord screening company": Their schtick is to get you to fork over money, run your credit check that will be good for any of their landlords, assure you they will find you an apartment in two days, and then NEVER CALL YOU BACK. The rest is too bitchy to recap, but if I don't get a full refund, and actually, even when I do, I will be reporting these pricks to the city and the Better Business Bureau.

4. Meeting your father, who happens to be in the city on business, for dinner: Every interaction with my father leads to tears, indigestion, or a migraine. 'Nuff said.

So, all in all, the search was ultimately successful with a lot of pitfalls along the way. But I'm a little bit wiser.

I start work January 2, and because we're going to San Fran for Christmas to visit Sister and Sister's boyfriend, I won't be moving in until December 30th. Since I'll be busy unpacking on New Year's Day at least I won't have time to get nervous...

Except I'm already nervous, especially after seeing the "couple of CLE materials" I picked up from the office on Friday to read up on before I start. I needed a big box and had to take a cab back.

Also? I've done zero Christmas shopping.

It's (not) beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

I've just read two posts about how the first day of December has brought lovely snow to the blogger's respective locales. It is currently 64 DEGREES IN BOSTON. The temperature is supposed to drop tonight and snow is in the forecast for next week, but seriously, WTF!? No one loves winter more than I do!

I have some shopping to do this weekend. I need a nice professional winter coat for interviews and eventually work. My pea coat, which I've had since high school, is looking pretty weary, and does in fact make me look like I'm still in high school. (Of course, this is apparently not hard to do since when I was at the supermarket the other day, albeit in jeans, sneakers, a sweatshirt, and a ponytail, I was mistaken for a high school student by someone collecting money for the football team.)

So, I need a nice coat. And a new skirt suit and some nice professional jewelry, according to my mom. I suppose I agree that skirt suits are more sophisticated for interviews than pantsuits (damn sexists) and since I only have a couple that are neither gray nor black, I need another one. My Ann Taylor credit card has had a nice long break, so I guess it's time to whip it out again.

My sister (who left Stanford 6 credits short of graduating and still makes more money than I bet I will in my first real job) is asking about Christmas presents for this year, and I really just want to skip the whole thing. Everyone knows I don't have any money, and although this will be the last year where this will be the case, the idea of our usual gluttonous spending makes me ill. That doesn't mean that I don't want some work clothes and a couple of dvds, but why not just wait for all the after-Christmas sales? I think since deep down the only thing I want for Christmas is a job that I like and pays me what I'm worth, anything else seems trivial.

You know what's not trivial, though? Christmas music. Every time I hear Carol of the Bells it makes me think of Home Alone and how great Christmas was as a kid.