Legal Mystenigmary

Stick-A-Poker-In-Your-Eye Hilarious

Remember when Irksome and I broke up last summer, and I told you out there on the interwebs* about how he said he felt he had to because he just lacked the ability to be in a relationship and, lest I not believe what so many have used as a convenient excuse, then spent many exhausting hours convincing me of this fact, in detail, with pictures and a PowerPoint presentation or two? Well, either he's a shoo-in to Yale Drama, or he's done the fastest turnaround in the West, because he GOT MARRIED a few weeks ago. As in, less than six months after we broke up. And, obviously, not to me. And, as far as I know, not to anyone he'd ever dated before me. Also, the manner in which he chose to get married was one which he knew guaranteed I'd find out about it the second it happened. Really, isn't that just the funniest thing you ever heard? HYSTERICAL.

I did not know I was capable of this much disgust. I'm not even particularly sad, more just HOW DARE YOU lie to me so convincingly and then marry some trollop (who, reportedly is plain as a stick, and this is not even from people who have any knowledge that their description is going back to me) six months later? See, this is why the decision NOT to be friends with him after we broke up was the best one I ever made (except. then I wouldn't have this irritating question in the back of my mind about whether he got her pregnant or not - I could just ask. But then I'd have to punch him in the head when he gave me the answer. Regardless of what it is. And then there'd be all sorts of drama over how that's "assault" and, you know, "criminal," and that would be bad. So really, yes - best decision ever made.)

*Oops. I just checked my archives and realized that, shockingly, that was the one intimate personal detail I *hadn't* shared on this site. The short version of the story was that there was a very brief breakup in May, which I did write about, that lasted for about three days - the actual breakup wasn't until September, and apparently was just too exhausting to even think about writing about. Suffice to say, it was not fun.

You Know What I Hate? (In Which I Bitch)

1. Westlaw KeyCite flags - specifically, the fact that sometimes they appear to be assigned by untrained monkeys by the "point and drool" method -- A "BUT SEE" CITE IS NOT A NEGATIVE CITING REFERENCE, YOU MORONS! I wouldn't care so much, except that sometimes certain judges, clearly the offspring of these untrained monkeys, ALSO don't read the cases and try to tell me the case I'm relying on was "overruled," on the strength of the fact that Westlaw has stuck a stupid yellow flag next to it EVEN THOUGH THE NEGATIVE REFERENCE IS IN ANOTHER JURISDICTION. I love my job, but sometimes, I swear, I want to run away and join the circus.

2. The fact that you can be totally stressed out for several days at a stretch trying to do a particular thing the very best you can, and then discover at the end that NOPE, your best was wrong.

3. This morning's discovery that, due to three months of not working out AT ALL (hell, of moving more than two muscles at a time for fear of angering The Brain), I look ridiculous in all my clothes -- seriously, I'm fairly certain that children just point and laugh when I go outside.

4. That, last night as I was reading through the archives of one of my new favorite sites (which I can't link to for fear of someone figuring out who the person three clauses down is, otherwise known as the "slippery slope towards non-anonymity) , enjoying all the fantastic writing and hilariousness, and feeling all happy and tra-la about my discovery, I scrolled down and CAME UPON THE FACE OF MY MORTAL ENEMY IN HIGH SCHOOL, accompanied by a story about how the blogger had met said enemy on a trip and thought she was just the cat's pajamas. At which I felt my face start to melt off in fury. This girl was, like, the devil -- whilst playing the part of best friend in our  quartet, she slept with one of our boyfriends, stole another's job, and generally backstabbed and doublecrossed like a soap opera diva -- all while looking sweet as pie. Thankfully, once we all went to college, she sort of dropped off the map, having apparently found new "friends" to torture. AND THEN I HAD TO SEE HER FACE COME INTO MY APARTMENT LAST NIGHT - THE HORROR. <shudder>. I think I might need counseling for it -- and also for being a drama queen. but whatever, it was like watching Sesame Street and all of a sudden having Leatherface pop up in the middle.

5. THE WORLD.

(In case you could not tell, I am a touch cranky this morning. I would say I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but my bed only has one side -- perhaps I just woke up on the wrong side OF MY LIFE.)

iTunes is Satan

No, really, it is. It looks all innocuous and adorable in its clean, friendly happy-Apple design, inviting you in with a big friendly smile and all those bright colors -- but in reality, IT IS THE DEVIL designed to distract your attention so it can plunder your pockets for every last cent, so that when you check later, you will find that you cannot pay your rent because you spent all your money on iCrack.

**This rage-blackout has been brought to you by the letter C and the number 500, which is the amount of money I have APPARENTLY spent since January downloading extremely vital things like the season premiere of "America's Next Top Model" and lots of things by artists I am too embarrassed to list here, including people whose names rhyme with Critney Pears. I need HELP, people!**

Yes, I Know, There is No Excuse For This Kind of Behavior!

Except that, I mean, there kind of is. You see, just after my last post (in JANUARY), I had the brilliant idea of adding weekly one-mile swims to my workout regimen, since it was too damn cold to run as many miles in a week as I should -- and, since my friend just found a local pool that wasn't too gross and we'd both been lifeguards all through high school,  it seemed like the perfect plan. So we went and swam our 72 laps (which is either 1 mile, .9 of a mile, or 1.1 mile, according to later research on the topic), and were all pleased with ourselves, so did a last "silly swim" lap to celebrate -- which basically involves propelling yourself through the water in all manner of ridiculous-looking ways - ending in the ever-popular "tickle tee snap" backstroke (for anyone NOT having attended the frightening "beginner swim" classes in my town, it's a modified backstroke where you stick your arms out a 90-degree angles to your body and then "snap" them down to your sides - you'd be surprised how fast you can move). This is normally super fun and results in much giggling.

Unfortunately, this time it resulted in quite the "concussion" or "closed head injury," depending on who you believe out of the many, many, MANY doctors I've seen in the last three months. But a weird one. Because, despite whacking the top of skull directly into the steel-and-tile wall at the end of the pool just as I'd "snapped" one last time, I didn't lose consciousness. My head didn't even hurt. And nothing really bothered me until nearly a week later, when I went out on a nighttime six-mile run in 30-degree weather. When I got back, I felt as if I'd spontaneously contracted the world's most violent sinus infection - but only in my skull. And that began three months of excruciating pressure in my head, such that sleeping at any angle less than 90 degrees from the mattress was impossible, driving more than ten minutes was a crazy dream and talking on the phone -- well, let's not even get started on that. I went to my family doctor, who stared at me like I was crazy and said "oh, you just have a headache, take some Advil" (for which sage advice I paid $50, and then sought out a new family doctor who went somewhere other than "The University of Thirteen-Minute Diplomas"); a neurologist (suggested by the family doctor after I pitched a fit over how THIS IS NOT A HEADACHE, so you can imagine how fab he was) who AGAIN told me that all I had was a headache and I might just want to dial down the crazy, because the CT scan CLEARLY showed that my brain was normal; and then finally a new internist who explained that head injuries are "funny like that" and can cause all of the terrifying symptoms that caused me to think that I was tragically going to die at 28 OF SWIMMING - visual disturbances, light-image perseverance, pressure in one's head that feels like someone is trying to inflate your brain to twice its regular size, a total inability to think clearly or really just put two sentences together in a rational-type way -- and explained that it can take anywhere from one to three months for those symptoms to go away.

Trust my brain to be the one that clearly is going to need the WHOLE three months to get better. So, that's the reason for the absence -- this is the first time since January that I've had enough energy, cognitive power and ability to sit up straight to post an entry. And, yes, I know, it's possibly the world's least interesting and most boring post, but HELLO, brain injury, people! Let's just be glad it's not about how the purple shimmering smells violently grin about loud chairs!

Somebody please send Fox"News" a dictionary...

Not that I usually waste my time paying attention to that surefire way to spike your blood pressure otherwise known as Fox News, but my interest was piqued today when my Google Newsreader thingy spit up a Fox headline on a new study regarding drinking caffeine during pregnancy that the New York Times had also just reported on today. Having already read the article in the NYT (that bastion of the "liberal conspiracy"!) I was curious to see what kind of coverage the "fair and balanced" Fox News had given it. Shockingly, the famously "unbiased" news outlet not only reported the study's finding as unqualified "fact," but also failed to use the qualifiers vitally important to the reporting of ANY study, failed to point out any of the possible flaws in the sampling, and most significantly, failed to including ANY commentary or reactions giving that essential "other side" to the issue.

Are we sure they actually know what "balanced" and "unbiased" means? 'cause I don't think so.

(For those who want to see for themselves: the Fox story is here and the NYT story is here [free registration required or go to bugmenot.com]).

brrrRRR!

oh my GOD, it's COLD! so cold that little pieces of my hair froze in the three minutes it took me this morning to run out to my car and put change in the parking meter so the meter-bitch would not write me YET ANOTHER ticket (do you know I have 57 so far? in only 2 1/2 years. that must be some kind of record.). So cold that I stopped being able to breathe out of my nose on my run this morning and (ew) actually have to resort to blowing it on my sleeve? (I honestly don't think that, even if I wash it thirty times, I could ever bring myself to wear that shirt again). So cold that I actually am wearing my one and only pantsuit today ... and I NEVER EVER EVER wear pantsuits, on account of the fact that I look like Charlie Chaplin in pantsuits. really, just in pants in general.  I mean, congratulations to the suffragettes in the pantaloons on the bicycles and good work on getting me the right to wear them -- but I HATE them. (the pants. not the suffragettes. OOh, especially not Mrs. Banks from "Mary Poppins" - she's so awesome in her little lilac suit singing about how her daughter's daughter's will adore her -- you're right, Mrs. Banks, I DO adore you!)

'08 Wishes*

In no particular order, I wish:
1. That whenever I wanted, it would be summer and I would be on my way to the beach with the top down and the Ramones blasting. And conversely, that whenever I wanted, it would be a beautiful sunny, snowy day and I was on the top of my favorite mountain.

2. That I was *actually* going on the ski trip I planned this week, instead of being chained to my desk working on the world's most irritating summary judgment brief EVER.

3.    That the IDIOTS at ABC hadn't randomly cancelled My So-Called Life in the MIDDLE of the season (seriously, episode 20 is the last one) and that my high school experience featured a boy as dreamy as Jordan Catalano (note NOT jared leto himself, who has now stolen all of ricky's eyeliner and turned into a bizarre freakshow rocker wannabe). Seriously, that show was incredible. I just rewatched the whole series this weekend, and while all the exaggerated pauses, heavy sighs and constant use of the word "like" in random places seems less authentic and more annoying than it did when I first watched the show at 15, it's so freaking good, I wanted to phone the producers and call them nasty names for cancelling it -- and THEN having the nerve to quote all the fabulous reviews on the back of the DVD case -- what's THAT about? that's basically like admitting "Yes, we made this wonderful show that everyone loved and then cancelled it for no reason, because we suck." grr.

4.That I could find that money tree my dad used to have in the back yard when I was little. I could really use one of those. Or a generous donor who wished to pay back all my student loans out of the goodness of his/her heart, just for the pure joy of knowing that I would then have actual "disposable income."

5. That it was acceptable to flit in and out of the office (well, more than I already do) so I can sleep late, do long runs in the morning, and go to yoga class when I feel like I really really need to.

*(I mean, actually, they're just really all the time wishes, but I couldn't think of another title and that one seemed both timely and a good excuse for posting again after two months of silence)

I need a life.

I know this because I just got really excited about... an assignment to survey the law across the country regarding interpretation of one specific phrase. On HALLOWEEN! this is sad. there used to be so many other things to get excited about today -- free candy, getting to dress up like a total loon without people trying to to wrangle you into a straitjacket (or not, if that's your wont), drinking far too much "Witches' Brew" and giggling with your friends as you run wild through the streets.

Yeah, growing up is TOTALLY AWESOME.

Once again of two minds....

I have a favor to ask: go read this article at NYTimes (if login's required, go to bugmenot.com for free password) and tell me what you think -- for those of you who don't want to click, basically, the story is that a bunch of Stanford Law students got together and created an A-F grading scheme for firms based on how many minorities/gay people they had, and are asking top tier schools to prevent the "failing" firms from recruiting on campus. I can't decide if these kids are completely obnoxious and off base (I mean, how useful is a bare head count of each type of minority as an assessment of a firm's diversity? and doesn't diversity mean different things in different markets? and should diversity be the sole measure of a firm for recruiting purposes? is the proposed ban useful at all?) or really impressive for taking a strong stand the issue? I'm flip-flopping. Which is why I would be a TERRIBLE presidential candidate. (Well, that's not the only reason -- I also inhaled. Although, then again, Bushie not only inhaled, he snorted, and no one seems to particularly care about that...)

Thoughts on a Crappy Rental Car

It is beige, smells like a pack-a-day smoker lived in it for two years, and is approximately the size of my entire bedroom. It has buttons to switch between "CD" and "radio," but no way to actually insert a CD. And -- the crowning insult - THERE IS NO CUPHOLDER. Which may sound like a silly insignificant thing, but try making the seven left turns between my house and my office one-handled whilst balancing a boiling hot paper cup of coffee in the other hand -- you will end up with very little coffee to drink at the end and many many burns . And yet, the twit at my insurance company has the nerve to tell me that this Ford Sofa is "certainly comparable" to my sporty heated-leather-seats-sunroof-six-disc-changer Volvo - how do they teach them to lie so convincingly like that??!

(Yes, I realize I sound like a total spoiled brat -- but, actually, it's more that I'm feeling profoundly unsettled in the aftermath of this whole accident thing, and my sweet little car was kind of my safety blanket -- without it, I feel all wee and naked and very, very unsafe.)