Assholes

They're annoying enough to have to deal with in just about any respect, but they're especially annoying to have to deal with when they're lawyers and you're stuck in depositions with them for days.

I spent all day Thursday in deposition with the biggest ass of a lawyer. I've been in deposition with him before enough to know what to expect; but, Jesus, it just seems to get worse each time. This time may have been the worst of all. He was ostentatious, theatrical, condescending, sarcastic, and insulting to my witness - - I told him at one point he was being insulting and uncivil, which was completely true; I mean, that's how bad it was; it's extremely rare, in fact I think that's the first time EVER, that I've said such a thing, or rather HAD to say such a thing, to a lawyer I was going up against.

This guy deposed one of my witnesses, an employee of a client, whom I may call as a witness at trial. Not one of my most important witnesses though, by far. (And this guy knows that.) The deposition lasted 8 hours, with a 45 minute lunch break included in that time. We did not finish. We're starting back this morning - about 4 and a half hours from now, as I write this. See, this is how annoyed I got by the deposition yesterday: while I did get several good hours of sleep tonight, almost 5 hours, nevertheless when I did wake up this morning, the wheels in my brain started turning so fast with thoughts about yesterday and about what I want to happen today that I was automatically wide awake, and finally recognized that I just wasn't going to go back to sleep, and that it was best just to go ahead and get up and let all my thoughts flow and get them organized and make a plan, and just generally get prepared for the day ahead.

But there's one thing I would like to say about these kinds of assholes in general, because I've always thought this, and I feel like I've been consistently proven correct. Assholes tend to act out, out of some kind of emotion or other; usually having to do with a desire to intimidate, to try to make people cow to them ... but not out of any actual, legitimate basis of being in the right. And they can get so swept away in their sense that by merely expressing greater outrage than anyone else in the room, they will come out the winner, that they can end up underestimating other people in the room, and end up, finally, digging themselves in a really deep hole of shit, that's blatantly obvious to everyone. I mean, it's like they're the only ones who DON'T realize what an asshole they're being.

Yesterday morning, about an hour into my deposition, this asshole lawyer was "trying" to get the judge on the phone. I put that in quotes because it was really just a threat, but he put action to his words by picking up the phone and dialing numbers ... except that the call didn't go through, the speaker phone gave off an annoying electronic sound to tell you the number you'd dialed is not valid, and I don't believe that he ever actually intended to GET the judge on the phone when he went through the motions of dialing a number ... he had no legitimate complaint, in my opinion (and my co-counsel's opinion), and I can't imagine what he could have actually said to a judge yesterday directly that would have even passed as a superficial claim for any kind of relief whatsoever. And this dude is totally using up that threat too much anyway for anyone who deals with him to give it any real belief; I mean, this is probably the 5th time I've been in a deposition with him in which he threatened to get the judge on the phone, as if that even constitutes a threat (in each case I believe the judge would've been annoyed to have been interrupted with such stupid objections had the judge even deigned to get on the phone with us), and out of all of those times, only 1 time did this guy actually dial the number correctly or finish dialing or whatever such that anyone at the court actually even answered the phone. He's just being an ass, is all, and trying to intimidate the witness, by making the witness think he or she has done something really wrong enough to warrant a call to the judge, when all the lawyers in the room know that's not the case.

In this case though, the guy didn't rattle my witness with his stupid gestures. But immediately after that, he tried to intimidate me. And see, here's the thing that I don't think he knows: it's really fucking hard to intimidate me. And that's not because I'm an asshole in like, who would posture and whatever right back; it's because (a) unless we're in front of a judge where it matters and where we're asking for a ruling, I'm not going to do more than just express my objection. The rules don't require, or actually even allow as a general rule, me to give my full reasons during deposition, they just require me to object if I want to preserve an objection for argument at a future point in time, and there's no relief that I can gain by arguing the point during the deposition; as long as I object for the record, I've done my job; why waste my time getting into an argument that neither of us has the ability to win at that particular time? and (b) I think you look pretty ridiculous getting all red-faced and angry over stuff I think you're wrong about, or at least stuff where I at the very least have just as much an argument against as you have for; and (c) when it finally comes down to it, as long as I still think I'm in the right, then I don't give a fuck what you think or say. Talk yourself red in the face; you're not going to make me change my mind. And (d) in general I also don't care to even have my pulse raised in reacting to you. I admit that unfortunately sometimes I do get so irritated and offended that I can't help but feel a rush of adrenaline in my body, which quickens my pulse and sharpens my tone of voice; but for the most part, where I don't see the necessity for that, I try to let things roll off me like water off a duck's back, and you're frankly just not going to achieve whatever level of intimidation or fear or anger or whatever it was in me you were hoping to achieve. You want to try to make me look stupid by being argumentative and sarcastic and condescing and insulting? Go ahead, give it every effort; but don't imagine that I give a fuck about it, except to think about how much of an ass you're making of yourself. And, finally, (e) given all of the above, I am in the end totally comfortable actually arguing the point with you; I only argue when I feel I have an argument, and when that's the case then I feel confident in my basis and my opinions and have no problem whatsoever expressing them to you - - you're not going to catch me making an objection without a clearly articulable basis for it that I believe to be well-grounded in the law.

Of course, sometimes assholes don't respond to my approach; they don't back off, even when I refuse to engage. Yesterday, after I thought he'd exhausted himself with all his threats to call a judge and cease our deposition and seek an order compelling the witness to answer his questions [read: compelling the witness to give the answers he WANTS versus the answers the witness believes to be the right answers], the asshole lawyer turned his attention to me yet again. I objected to one of his questions; just stated my objection - we're not allowed to explain our reasons on the record during deposition, pursuant to court rules; just saying "objection" preserves your right to argue the point later, if it gets in front of a judge. And usually the trouble is that people sometimes try to sneak in the basis for their objection when they object in deposition, in order to clue in their witness as to what they think is wrong with the question, and give subtle (or sometimes not at all subtle) guidance as to how the witness should answer. (That's why we're prohibited from explaining our objections during depositions, btw, essentially.) So anyway, I said "objection." But the witness of course is required to answer anyway, which he started to do ... until the asshole lawyer turned to me and in an exasperated huffy voice said "WHY are you objecting to THAT?!" So annoying. Implying I'm out-of-my-head wrong, and somehow hurting him by stating "objection." So I explained to him my basis for the objection, which showed the flaw in his question (which has assumed a fact not in question, although not quite even; it was assuming that my witness had a certain opinion, which my witness not only had not stated but that I knew my witness did not share ... sort of a "when did you stop beating your wife" kind of question, but rather it was a "why do you consider such-and-such unimportant" kind of question). So after I gladly explained my basis, which had the benefit of allowing my witness to hear what I was thinking, I then told him that I'd be more than happy to state the basis for each of my objections going forward, as long as he would agree not to object to me providing speaking objections (which is what they're called, when you explain your reason, which is what the rules of deposition actually don't allow us to do). And the cocky asshole, not wanting to look like I'd gotten anything over on him, said "well I just wanted to know your basis for THAT objection, but sure." (Which then prompted my co-counsel, the attorney for a co-defendant, to say "can I have the same deal?", because like I said it would be awesome to be able to state my reasons for my objections on the record, like I did then when asked but usually can't do because the rules don't allow.)

Well, that was a long rant, but damn, sometimes you just need to vent about the stupid little things that other people do that you unfortunately just have to put up with, no matter how inconsequential.

And now, on this Friday that's the last Friday before Christmas, I get to go back into deposition with this asshole - first to finish up yesterday's witness, and then to start on another. I don't expect to be done before 6 pm ... and that's if we're lucky enough to finish; if we're far from finishing by 5 pm, then I'll call it a day then and make him reschedule the rest ... that'll be up to him, as to wether to finish quickly or reschedule. Our fucking rules don't put a limit on the length of time you can depose someone. Which I think is outrageous. But whatever. Merry fucking Christmas!

Unbelievable.

Or should I say, of course?

It seems you shouldn't be able to say both about the same thing, right? But then, I feel like I live in a world of oxymorons. And regular morons, too.

I think I must be depressed. I've been sleeping a lot lately. Like, a LOT. I didn't work this past Friday; instead of taking advantage of having a day off, though, I pretty much slept my day away. Took about a 4 hour nap in the middle of the day. Even though I'd gone to bed early the night before ... and I was STILL able to go to bed early Friday night.

So maybe you could write that off as a fluke, right? I just really, really needed the rest. Except that I napped TWICE on Saturday. First I just woke up early, for a Saturday, like 6 or so; so I had cereal for breakfast, watched a little tv, and by 9 I was asleep again, on the sofa, tv going and book in hand (and cats perched on hip and snuggled behind bent knee). Slept about 2 hours. Woke up, tried to shake off the sleep and do some house chores for a few hours ... then sat down to "read" again, and within 5 minutes I was asleep. For a couple more hours.

So by Saturday night I should totally be done with all this sleeping stuff, right? Yeah ... I went to bed about 9:30 Saturday night. And slept for 10 hours.

So Sunday. I've now wasted two days pretty much just sleeping, right? I should be done. But no ... I nap again. Only this time, I at least only nap for ONE hour. But did I really accomplish much of anything with the rest of my day? No, not really; I still felt totally lazy, and all I could seem to muster up the energy to do was to start a new book.

This book though I actually ended up reading all in one day. It was pretty good, that book. But then again, it's hard to say how much of it was that it was a good book, and how much of it was that I am pretty boring these days. I seem to do nothing much more than sleep and read; no energy, desire, motivation, etc., to do anything else.

But anyway, the point is, given how the past few days have gone, I should have no trouble sleeping tonight. I mean, I must be fucking depressed or something, to be sleeping as much as I've been sleeping the past few days. I didn't seem to have trouble napping, or sleeping 10 hours even after a long nap, two days in a row ... so why should today be any different?

Except that of course today is fucking Sunday, which means I go back to work tomorrow, and for some reason, my body rejects the idea of getting enough sleep the night before a day of actual work. Got a 3-day weekend to enjoy? Great, I'll fucking sleep right through it, rather than do anything interesting. But need to rest through a night so I can get up and go to work like a normal person the next day, not a monster who didn't get enough sleep and is a total grouch and can hardly function? Well you can guaran-fucking-tee that means I won't sleep at all that night ... or at least, I won't fall asleep until at least two hours before my alarm is set to go off; just enough time to get into some deep REM shit before I get jerked out of it and have to go off and be a lawyer for 9 hours on 2 hours of shitty sleep.

What the fuck is up with that?

Damn

I normally like looking at glam photos of celebs in magazine spreads such as you sometimes find in Vogue and Vanity Fair and what not, two magazines that I pick up from time to time for browsing fun. But I'm not normally actually turned on by looking at such photos.

Except for this morning, when I saw this picture of Kate Winslet, channeling Catherine Deneuve in Belle de Jour, a movie I remember seeing with my boyfriend back in college at one of those neat little movie theaters that shows nothing but old movies. I remember that he and I both said afterwards that we'd thought going in that there'd be more graphic sex in it than there was; I also remember that we nevertheless found it erotic, and that we went back to his room and fucked soon after the movie.

Well I don't know if it's just the picture itself, or if it's the association of the picture with that movie, which conjured up a specific erotic memory, but damn ... I'm aroused:




Well done Kate, and Vanity Fair.

oops

If you read my last post, you know that I played hooky from work on Friday. I had a half-legitimate excuse, in that I had jury duty. But after I was excused from jury duty at 10:30 a.m., I decided that I'd pretend for my office's sake that I'd been picked to serve on a jury that day, so that I'd have an excuse for not going into work the rest of the day. My boss had actually taken the day off Friday - she'd given notice in advance that she was going to take a leave day Friday; so when I called the office around lunchtime to use my "damn, I got picked today" jury excuse, I spoke to our paralegal, who said she'd take care of anything that came up while I was out.

Having given the excuse of being picked for a jury, of course I had to come up with some basic details about the case that I supposedly served on, knowing that my boss would know I hadn't come in to work Friday and that she would ask about the case I'd said I'd been picked for. I thought up a short and sweet story while I was showering this morning, and crossed my fingers that she wouldn't ask too many extra questions. My biggest fear was that she'd ask something that seems pretty innocuous about the case or the experience of serving on the jury, and that I wouldn't be able to come up with a sensible answer fast enough that fit my story, and that I'd be caught. My plan was to distract her with another topic as soon as I'd given my few basic lies, thinking that I could satisfy any curiosity she might have and then quickly make her forget about it.

So I went into work this morning, and of course, my boss came into my office within the first 15 minutes I was there and asked how jury duty went. She'd heard I'd been picked. So I fed her my made-up details about the case with what I hoped was a look of sincerity. Then I prepared myself to quickly change the subjects.

But that's when my boss surprised me. She'd caught on to the hooky-playing.

Oh, but here's the best part: not MY hooky-playing. Oh no; it turns out that on Friday afternoon, after I'd called in with the news that I wouldn't be in the rest of the day as I fulfilled my civic duty, my paralegal decided to take advantage of my boss and I both being out of the office, and she snuck out without telling anyone. And went shopping. Only to run into my boss, who happened to be shopping at the same store Friday afternoon, and who was surprised to see our paralegal browsing and choosing clothes to try on, since our paralegal was supposed to be working all day. My boss said that when she called out our paralegal's name in the store, she looked up, looked shocked for a couple seconds at seeing our boss, and then said "oops ... busted."

It's kind of funny. On the one hand, I'm kind of sympathetic to our paralegal; I kind of want to defend her for playing hooky on a Friday afternoon when none of her direct supervisors were in the office, to say it's not a big deal - and I kind of want to also take her aside and say to her, hey, if you're gonna play hooky, don't risk the chance, small as it may have seemed at the time, that you'd run into anyone from the office who had the day off legitimately while doing your shopping or what have you; find something else to do instead. On the other hand, I'm kind of thankful that our paralegal had the bad luck to get busted like that by our boss out shopping on Friday; after all, it did totally distract my boss from asking any more questions about my own excuse for playing hooky on Friday. And like a smart hooky-player, I didn't go out shopping in town where I might potentially run into my boss; I played it smart, stayed at home and got drunk off my ass for no good reason. Yep, smart.

use your legal imagination this halloween -

- and help a girl out.

This week I had jury duty. Magistrate's court, so small cases. And they didn't even have trials every day this week; I showed up Monday morning as required, and after waiting two and a half hours I found out that I had not been picked for Monday's case, but that I would have to show up again Tuesday and Friday mornings for two more jury picks - - but no cases Wednesday or Thursday.

Well Monday and Tuesday I did not get picked, and I was back at work between 11 and 11:30 a.m. both days. And of course since I didn't have to show up for jury duty Wednesday or Thursday, I worked regular days both those days.

But today, Friday, I got a little bad.

Not bad luck; I didn't get picked for jury duty, once again. In fact, it was kind of nice - because I got my check this morning for showing up for jury duty 3 days this week, even though I didn't have to sit on an actual jury. So at 10:30 this morning, I walked out of court, dismissed with thanks from the judge, a check for $44 in hand, free to ... uh ... go back to work?

Well, see, that's where I get bad. As I was driving away from court in my car, I was thinking about the fact that it's Friday, that it's not just any Friday but Halloween Friday, and that I'm not actually in the office right this minute, and that nobody in my office has any idea of what's going on over in this tiny little magistrate's court that I've been required to show up at this week for jury duty. I thought maybe I should take advantage...

At first I just took a very minor advantage. I knew I needed to stop by the grocery store today for a few things, including Halloween candy in case any little creetin kids show up at my door tonight; so I went ahead and shopped for groceries after leaving the court, then came on home and put the groceries away and piddled around for a few minutes. Thinking I'd go on back to the office any minute, work for the rest of the day.

But then I started thinking a little more, and I started wondering: why the hell am I actually considering going back to the office on a Friday, on Halloween, when I've got this totally legitimate jury duty excuse for not being in the office?

So I waited until about 12:40-something, then called my paralegal and explained that I was using my lunch break to call in and let the office know that I'd been picked today, and wouldn't be back in. Bad girl, bad girl! Is that bad?

My paralegal asked a few questions out of curiosity about the kind of case I'd been picked for; I gave her the few details I already knew from being in court this morning when the jury was picked, that it's a traffic case, a criminal charge. And then I embellished just a little bit, based on information that I gleaned from this morning even though it wasn't specifically stated: that the woman cited to be at fault in the accident disputes it, and that the people who were in the other car are in court to testify about how she is at fault. Then my paralegal remarked on how odd it was that I actually got picked, since I'm a lawyer and it seems like people never want to pick a lawyer to sit on their jury; and I told her how there were a surprising number of lawyers in the jury pool this week in magistrate's court, considering what a small court it is and what a small jury pool (less than 50 people). I told her how two other lawyers got cut before I was seated, and I figured that the parties just figured what the heck by the time it came to lawyer number 3; which was partially true, since they did cut two lawyers from the jury before they seated the jury, but also partially false, since I wasn't even close enough to being potentially seated to have even been subject to a cut. Anyway; then my paralegal just told me a few things that are going on in the office today, but it's not much really; and basically I don't need to be there today for anything in particular.

So basically I'm playing hooky today, with a somewhat justifiable real excuse of having jury duty, but with the added element of lying about having to finish out the rest of the day to sit on an actual jury of an actual case. Meanwhile I'm just going to enjoy my Friday at home, and get into the Halloween spirit a little bit.

But I know, of course, that come Monday I'm going to be asked, by my boss most importantly, about this case I'm supposedly serving on jury duty for today. So I'm thinking that over the weekend I'll need to work up a few extra good, somewhat specific points of interest to be able to tell her about my jury-serving day, and about the outcome of the case, just to make it all sound good.

So anyway: does anyone have any suggestions on what I can say to help booster the whole I-served-on-a-jury-that's-why-I-didn't-show-up-for-work-Friday thing? Anyone served on a jury in a traffic case, specifically, since that's the lie I'm starting with and have to build on? Anyone have any good jury-serving anecdotes I can plagiarize and incorporate into my story come Monday? Or just any imaginative details you think might satisfy my boss, so I don't come across as a liar if asked aobut my case next week?

p.s. Does it make me a true dork that I'm actually spending this much effort thinking and worrying about covering my tracks like this, pretending I got picked for the jury when I really didn't just so I don't have to go back into work on a Friday? Yeah, I thought so. Oh well; I think I'm going to go out on my front porch now with an alcoholic drink and carve a pumpkin into a jack-o'-lantern for my trick-or-treaters tonight. Wish me luck in not cutting off a finger while I'm at it!

Facebook

Ok, I know I'm on the slow track here, just now talking about how I'm just now getting a little bit into Facebook. I opened an account on Facebook a couple years ago I guess, but I didn't really do anything much with it until recently. Recently, I have re-connected with six old friends from high school on it. And while I don't expect to suddenly be best friends again with old high school friends I'd already grown apart from after all these years, nevertheless, it is kind of cool - - I mean, I knew these particular six people really well, and hadn't thought of some of them in a decade; so it's kind of interesting to suddenly get these friend requests, and do the little catch-up email, and find out where they all are and what they're all doing. And I guess in a way it does make me a little bit nostalgic; not nostalgic for high school, oh God no, but nostalgic for friendships that really seemed special back when they existed, and for friends who are genuinely interesting people.

Or maybe I'm just really really really bored with life in this armpit of a city, and missing the good friends I had here at one time who all seem to have moved away. Yeah, that might be it. But Facebook's still kinda cool, though.

Sounds like a good set up for a porn movie to me.

A reporter for the New York Times writes this morning about Sarah Palin's performances in past debates, back when she was running for governor of Alaska. She says Palin wasn't at her best when answering questions posed by the other candidates. She says "In the AARP debate, Mr. Knowles and Andrew Halcro, an independent, double-teamed her to press her about how she would pay for health care."

They double-teamed her, eh? Hmm. It sounds like they ganged up on her. Gave her a hard pounding. From both sides. I could see where you might not perform at your best when you're put in that kind of position; but, as she's quoted saying later on in that article, "You know, you got to have the balls to take it on." Well, I guess one thing you can say about her is, she's a trooper.

It's not just me, by the way, is it? I mean, that double-team comment in the NYT does tend to conjure up a good porn scenario, doesn't it? Or do I just need to go get laid, so I can stop reading sex into everything I see?

True or False: We're All Part Gay, It's Just a Question of How Much

Tonight I was watching this stand-up act on Comedy Central that I thought was really funny. Towards the end of this guy's act (Ron White), he said something about how all men are part gay, it's just a matter of to what extent they're gay; first he said that he's not gay himself, but just look at his shoes (which looked nice btw), so what does that say about him; then he said how he'd said this to a cousin of his, and the guy, the cousin, said no way, so the comedian asked his cousin, well when you're watching porn, do you watch two girls usually? and the cousin said, no usually i watch a girl and a guy going at it together; and the comedian said, so do you like to watch a girl fucking a guy with a really tiny limp dick, and the cousin said, no, i like to watch her fuck a guy with a big ........ uh ........

It was a joke, yeah, but you know stuff that's funny is usually funny because it's got that ring of truth to it that you can relate to. A few people have made fun of me, affectionately I like to think, because I do enjoy watching an occasional gay porn scene - - if I see two guys with hot hard bodies going at it with each other, well damn, yeah I can get turned on by that, I can masturbate to that for sure. Ordinarily though, I'd say my preference is to watch a guy and a girl fucking. And yeah, when I'm watching that, I don't just want the guy to look good; I want the girl to look good, too, to look sexy. That's part of what turns me on too, to tell the truth. And I've also had one really, really hot lesbian sex dream in the past, based on a girl I knew a long time ago who had a girlfriend but who I suspected was attracted to me, and I still remember that dream as one of the hottest sex dreams I've ever had.

Well anyway, what got me thinking about this tonight was that it was kind of funny when I heard this comedian say this, because I've heard that same thing before, from a friend of mine. A friend of mine, a straight guy, is good friends with, and roomed with for about six months to a year or so, with another guy who is gay; and my straight friend told me that his gay friend told him that everybody is gay to a certain extent. That friend told my friend that he thought my friend was about 30 percent gay (I think that was the number; I could be wrong, maybe it was more like 20 percent, but somewhere around there anyway). He came up with that number based on certain particular personality traits and personal tastes of my friend ... like how my friend has a really good eye for home design / interior decorating, plus I think probably too because my friend is a very warm-hearted person to a certain extent, a great listener, open-minded and good at empathizing and understanding and sharing emotions and psychology and stuff. So while his gay friend knew that my friend is heterosexual, he nevertheless said to him, pretty matter of factly I believe, that he's 20 to 30 percent or so gay.

Well I know you've probably heard of "girl crushes" before - that was all over the Today Show in their fluff segments a few years ago; and I guess the term comes from, you can definitely crush on a person even if you're not interested in being in an actual relationship, couple-like / sexual relationship, with that person - including people of the same sex who normally date people of the opposite sex. Frankly sometimes I wish that guys had more of certain qualities that girls tend to have, because I think it would be easier to be in a relationship with a guy, long-term, if guys had certain typically female personality traits. And I'd bet some guys feel the same way too, the other way around. I imagine, anyway.

Plus, if you think about it, when it comes to sex ... well, let's talk about anal here for a minute. I love anal sex. Surprisingly so; when I was in college, I remember thinking that anal sex was something I would never want to do. But it just goes to show you, don't knock it til you try it, because damn but I love it. But if you buy into the idea of heterosexual sex is all about the penis going in the vagina, then why do so many people of both sexes really dig anal? I mean, does it make a guy gay if he wants to fuck me in the ass? And if I like ass-fucking, and I'm a woman, then considering that guys have assholes too, doesn't it make sense that they would enjoy being fucked in the ass too, either by a finger or a dildo or a dick, and does that have anything to do with being heterosexual or homosexual? And if I want a guy to fuck me in the ass, does it make me ... um ... a lesbian ... no, wait, a gay man ... no, wait ... fuck, what?

I guess my thought is, that I don't think that the desire to fuck an ass, or to be fucked in the ass, makes you gay, either way; it's more than just which part of the anatomy, male or female, you're sticking your whatever in, or having whatever stuck into you. Gay/straight/man/woman, people out there like anal. So that's not making you fall into one category or another ... but yet at the same time, I can't help but wonder, isn't anal fucking of the heterosexual kind not all that different from anal fucking of the homosexual kind? What makes one different from the other, really? I mean, they're different ... but yet, they're kinda the same a bit too, aren't they?

I have no fucking clue where I'm going with all this, or what the hell the point of this post was ... although I guess in a way I was wondering if, when people say everyone's gay to a certain extent I was kind of wondering, is that talking about something to do with your personality, with taste and personality traits? Or sexual attraction, and what turns you on? To what degree are those two things linked?

I don't know. I just know that I'm up late, I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep, and so I'm drinking in the hope of it knocking me out and making me go to sleep - - but so far all I am is really awake and a little bit drunk, and watching Comedy Central, and thinking really random things, and feeling like writing a post, however stupid it is. But I guess if I had to stretch all of my probably ridiculous thoughts into some kind of point, it would be this: no matter what sex you are and what sex you're attracted to, aren't we all kind of the same in a way, when it comes to sex? I mean, you might have particular preferences of your own, but how can you really say that one person's very minor preference, like a woman who wants missionary versus female on top, is all that different from someone else's perhaps bigger seeming preference, like a woman who wants to be tied up and fucked with a hard dick while another woman sucks on her breasts while she watches two hot guys go at it with each other? ... Eh, not that I am that second person there ... I mean, just because I fantasize about that doesn't mean anything in particular, does it? .... Hmmmm .... :)

I want to be liberated.

(Warning: Links NSFW)

I recently saw something I loved. I went to see Burn After Reading, and I'm just crazy about it. Very funny, smart, and entertaining; it really opened my eyes, and my imagination.

Oh, I'm not talking about the movie itself - although that was great too; I'm talking about one of the props in the movie.

I had never seen one of these before, but man do I want one now.

I want to get ramplified!

p.s. Ooooh ... and I want one of these, too ... wait a second, does that site say they gave those away in Grammy's and Oscar's gift baskets? Damn, it must be nice to live in Hollywood.

Place your bets

The last dry spell was long ... way too long. I crossed the fucking Sahara twice at least during that spell.

I told myself I wouldn't let myself go back there again, if I could help it; but now I'm afraid I may be embarking on a new dry spell. Surely, SURELY, this one won't be anywhere near as long. I think I'd go insane if I had to live without sex again. But sadly, if I were a betting person, I'd say the odds would have to be against me getting laid again anytime soon. In fact, maybe I should take bets, on whether or not I'll get laid again in 2008 ... Anyone? Anyone?

Moving Along

I guess you could distinguish periods of your life between two categories, if you wanted to: times when you do something so new and different that it moves your life along, and times when life is just moving along even though you're not doing anything new or different.

I don't know into which category I would put my most recent relationship. My first thought was that it was a life-changing kind of relationship, for several reasons, the biggest of which was that it was definitely serious. But after six months, it ended. And while I would hope and like to think that I grew some during that time with him, at the end I can't help but think that well, there's six more months of my life gone. Time that I do not regret, because it was nice; but time during which my life has just moved along, without any big changes, such that here I am again, trudging along as before ... the only difference being, I am no longer just 34 years old; I am now 34 and a half years old.

I wish I had an ending to this post that would seem somewhat optimistic, hopeful, something ... but I don't. But I guess that doesn't really matter; because no matter what I say or don't say, do or don't do, tomorrow's still going to come and go. Time still moves on. I guess maybe the thing to do is to think about whether I'm going to just let time move my life along the same as it is now, by virtue of days simply passing by as I get up and go to work and come home and repeat, or whether I'm going to move my life along myself, deliberately, with purpose and hope ...

... purpose and hope. Those are two very difficult things to find and hold onto in this life, I'm finding.

Someone told me there's a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair

Going to California, yes I am ... for the very first time. Only for four nights, to attend a conference - - man I wish it could be longer, and I wish I could do fun things instead of conference things. But I am so excited to be going.

I've always wanted to see California, but have never been. Until October that is. I just made all my flight and hotel reservations. Woo-hoo!

So, anyone out there live in San Diego? Know any good places to eat? Touristy stuff I just gotta do while I'm there? I'll be short on time, but hey, this might be the only time I ever get to go; if I have to skip out on some of my conference, well, shhh ... let's just don't tell anyone.

Who, me? Getouttahere.

One of the judges at the court I most often practice before has accepted a new position and will soon be leaving the bench.

Today I received a phone call from an attorney at another law firm who often represents clients in cases I'm involved in - sometimes on my side, sometimes on the other side. He asked me if I've considered running for the about-to-be-empty seat on this court. Ha, no, I said. But he was serious; and then he spent about 5 minutes trying to talk me into it, telling me reasons why he thinks I should apply for it.

Strangely, he's the second attorney to ask me that question; last week I was in deposition, and another attorney, with another firm, on the other side of another case, asked me the same thing; asked me if I had thought about running for a position on this particular court - - like it was a totally normal idea. Like I'd make a good judge.

What's weirder, that two different attorneys have asked me the same question in the past week, since we've found out this position will soon be open? Or that my automatic response to someone even suggesting that I'd make a good judge is to say "what the fuck man? Are you serious? Getouttahere." Either they have misplaced confidence in me, or I have very low confidence in myself.

I'm thinking it's both, actually.

Freudian Slip?

Work these days is terribly busy. I'm totally dividing my time between writing two appellate briefs that are due the second week of August and preparing for a trial slated for the last week of August.

The briefs are a pain in my ass, because I'm actually having to argue against what I believe to be the correct position. That is not fun. It's kind of like playing chess or something; very strategizing (can strategizing be used that way in a sentence? my god, my brain is going haywire, ballistic), trying to use moves that will win your client's position, but ones that will get you to that winning position without requiring you to make certain other moves, ones that would leave you open to having your ass taken since all the other players know you're vulnerable if you have to make those particular arguments.

That's probably a terrible example, btw. Yeah, I've been drinking a bit. (And by a bit I mean a lot.)

And the trial is an even bigger pain in my ass. Because my key witness admits that she totally screwed up. Oh boy! "Your honor, you must find in favor of my client. Even though one of our witnesses admits she fucked up, which really undermines all of my credibility arguing this case and leaves me with really no compelling evidence to back up my position, and I wish I could just drop this whole thing, but for complicated reasons I can't and instead have to appear here arguing and totally looking like an idiot for this week-long trial." Yeah, that's gonna be fun.

Oh, but didn't I say something at the start of this post about a Freudian slip? Yes, I did.

It's not all that big, but it's a little bit funny, to me anyway. You know how I've had, over the years, sex dreams about various people I work with, including attorneys from other firms who happen to be involved in cases I'm involved in? Well if you didn't know that before, now you do. I've had sex dreams about ... wait for it, while I count it up ... six male lawyers I know through work. (I think; I could totally be leaving someone out.) Well one of the most recent subjects of my erotic dreams is this lawyer who is very nice, but in kind of a vanilla way; you know, just a nice guy basically. A pretty good lawyer. And actually pretty funny too; he tends to crack me up more than other lawyers I work with, has a pretty good/distinctive sense of humor. But you know, married, father of two young kids, nice guy, nothing about him whatsoever makes you think anything but "nice guy." But for whatever reason, in my dreams this man has been all into me, and a pretty horny dog.

So last Thursday, I got a call from this lawyer. He was calling to talk to me about that case I have coming up for trial, the one scheduled for the end of August. And he mentioned that troublesome witness of mine; the one who now admits she was wrong about something. He's going to have to question her, on cross, at the trial, and considering the peculiar position my client and my witness and I are all in, he wanted to talk about ways we could potentially deal with this at trial ... even though he's on the other side. See, he knows I'm screwed; and basically, he's probing to see whether or not I might be going to change my client's position somewhat on this particular issue prior to trial, given this new position of my witness; because if I am going to change our position, then he could avoid basically eviscerating my witness on the stand. (That's not what he said, but I know that's what he meant.)

And my witness is a nice woman, a fairly sweet and fairly young woman, who just basically made a mistake, unintentionally, in this case, which unfortunately is fucking us up. So this lawyer, the one I've had the sex dreams about most recently, he said of my witness - - let's call her Annie - - he said ...

[him] "I just don't want to tear her up on cross, you know? I mean, I love Sadie."

Me: "... what?"

Him: "Uh ... I mean ... well, I love you too, Sadie, sure; I mean I love Annie; I mean, uh, I love all of you. He he."

Well I found a way to laugh it off w/o calling more attention to it and get us back on track, but then, strangely, for the rest of the conversation he kept calling my witness, Annie, by my name, Sadie. After the third time he apologized yet again and said he didn't know what his problem was; I assured him that it is pretty common to get people's names mixed up whom you know pretty well, I mean seriously my own sister will call me by her daughter's name and then her dog's name before she'll finally get my name right.

And I know that's true, that you can easily get people's names mixed up like that, especially people's names you know so well you're used to saying all the time ... mixing one familiar person's name for another familiar person's name (like my mom calling me by her sister's name instead of my name)(hmm, or maybe it's just a problem with the women in my family?) Anyway, but ... when I heard him say, that guy, that lawyer I've had the sex dreams about, by accident/slip of the tongue/mistake/whatever, nevertheless when he said, "I love Sadie," well ... it just sent a strange charge up through my body. Maybe because of all those sex dreams; maybe because I kind of wondered if there was a bit of hidden truth to his slip of the tongue; or maybe just because it's such a wonderful thing to hear another person say, one that I don't get the privilege of hearing much at all, if ever. But for whatever reason, damn, it made me smile.

Oh yeah, and I may or may not have had another really hot sex dream about him that night .... :D

Loser Among Losers

I admit, I am watching the finale of The Bachelorette tonight. I'm all sucked into the big question of who is it gonna be, Jesse or Jason? Oooh, the suspense.

I also admit that sometimes I lose patience watching tv shows that last a long time (like tonight's finale), but still feel compelled to find out how it ends. Which puts me in a hurry-up-and-be-over mood, where I can't sit still watching the whole thing, but can't walk away without knowing the ending either.

Which brings me to the internet, to the wonderful world of googling. Sitting here in the now second hour of the two hour finale (that's going to be followed up by a one hour "tell-all" episode; holy fuck, ABC is OVERLOADING us with this show), I have lost interest in watching any more, but still I want to find out what's going to happen nevertheless. So I turned to the online search engine giant, asking it to tell me if there are any web sites out there that have spoilers on them about this show; surely it can't be a total secret, somebody out there in cyberland must have leaked the ending.

And that's how I came to the discussion boards on "Fans of Reality TV." Oh. My. God. I am amazed at how seriously invested a lot of tv-watchers out there are in this show. People are freeze-framing the show and analyzing body language and background scenes and stuff, trying to figure out what the stills of the previews they've recorded can tell them about what the ending is going to be. Intense discussions, in-depth analysis. And they are all geared up about tonight's final episode.

One person said in the comments that she is so excited about tonight's finale that she left work early today, and is planning to not go in until lunchtime tomorrow, and has not been able to sleep for two weeks worried about what the outcome is going to be.

And that's when I thought, "holy fuck man, how sad is it that people out there are that into this show that they're taking off time from work and not able to sleep at night for thinking about these reality tv participants' lives?"

And then THAT'S when I thought, "holy fuck man, how sad is it that I've been reading comments on a message board for the Bachelorette on the Fans of Reality TV website for 15 minutes now, as I sit here and simultaneously watch the finale, looking for a give-away to the ending of the show?"

You know, I don't think I really needed to complete that entire sentence above ... I think I could've stopped at "how sad is it that I've been reading comments on a message board ..." ok, maybe throw in the "for the Bachelorette" too, and that would've been plenty enough to show the level of loserdome to which I've sunk tonight.

I think it's important that I turn my tv off now. And maybe my computer too.

Shit, I'm starting to feel bad

And not just about my lack of blogging.

Although yeah, I do feel bad about that. Chalk it up to the bad friend thing that happens whenever you start a new relationship; the new relationship is great, and fun, so much so that you start to kind of ignore your friends, for all the fun you're having. Or your blog, if you have no friends.

But actually, what I'm feeling bad about right now is the degree to which I am bruising my man's cock. His cock has been suffering bruises ever since we've started fucking. I was hoping that it was just a side effect of my long dry spell; I figured I must be pretty tight after all that time, despite the fun I have with my rabbit. I mean, after all, a rabbit is not a cock, you know? A cock just fills you up so, so, so much more than a rabbit can. So I was thinking that maybe I was experiencing some sort of re-virginization thing; that my pussy had been for so long without cock that it was tighter than a nun's cunt. (Was that too crude? Tighter than a duck's ass, then. Wait, which one do you think is tighter? God, what is WRONG with me, that I actually think about these things?)

So anyway, back to the story. Well before I started dating my hometown guy, I spent many many many many many long months getting my only sexual pleasure from my rabbit vibrator. Which I loved. And must have used way too much, because I finally wore it the fuck out. It just died on me a few weeks ago. And while having a sexual relationship can make the rabbit seem insignificant, having a long-distance relationship makes it nevertheless still necessary. So tonight I went to a sex toy store and bought a new rabbit. Hallelujah; I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it, on my non-hometown-boyfriend nights.

Now when I was in the sex toy store, browsing around and comparing the various options, these two girls who were working the store came over and helped me shop, telling me all the different features for all the different types of apparatuses out there for a single female's pleasure. I ended up just getting a replacement of the same Doc Johnson rabbit I'd had before; but they were so into telling me all about the features of it, how it's better than all the other ones out there, that I just listened to them talk, without telling them I've already experienced the Doc Johnson pleasure for myself and knew all about it.

What was interesting, though, was how they described the multiple functions of my rabbit. Particularly the shaft part of it. Yes, there are these pearl things in there; yes, they can rotate; yes, the head can rotate too; I knew these things from my last rabbit. And I hadn't been impressed by those features in my last rabbit, frankly; they didn't seem to do a whole lot for me. I mean I definitely liked them, but I didn't think they were as powerful as the clit stimulator part. I just liked having the combination of the two together. But these two women were all about the different motions that the shaft of the rabbit can make, and the pleasure that it can give you. And they told me how this particular rabbit has more power, as far as movement and vibration and such, than other versions that are out there.

So when I came back home from the store tonight with my new rabbit, as I was using it for the first time, I closed my eyes and specifically concentrated on, really thought about and tried to make myself aware of, all the movements just in the shaft part; focusing on the feelings of it, you know? And I realized that I wasn't really feeling it, still, the way those women had described.

That's when I remembered all that bruising I've been doing to my new man's dick; and that's when I forcibly made myself relax the muscles in my pussy, and felt more and more and more of the various movements of the pearls and the shaft and the head of my new rabbit. And that's when I realized, too, just how strong my vaginal muscles have become these past few years. Because once I realized I could feel more movement of the rabbit inside me when I really relaxed, I realized just how powerful that rabbit really is, I mean how much movement the shaft part actually has. But then when I got excited, and naturally contracted my muscles somewhat, my vaginal muscles all tensed up on it, grabbing hold of the shaft of that rabbit, holding it still, and then I could feel no movement at all. Even though it was turned up to the highest power. I pulled it out and looked at it, and saw how much the shaft really does move, when it's turned up full throttle, and I experimented again with it inside me, and felt it moving around in there again; but I had to totally relax my muscles, consciously, to feel that. My natural tendency was to clamp down on that shaft with my pussy, which made it stop moving.

So basically I'm left thinking to myself tonight: if my natural bodily reaction to something that's fucking my vagina is to squeeze it so tight that it can't even move even when it's a brand new toy powered by 4 brand new batteries, then no fucking wonder my boyfriend's dick gets bruised every time we fuck. If that rabbit can hardly even move around inside me even at full speed, then damn, but how much must I be hurting my man's thick fleshy cock? Which leaves me with a case of the guilts tonight.

Mostly though a case of the worries that I'm going to keep on bruising him so badly that he's one day going to decide it's just not worth it, pain-wise, to keep fucking me. Now THAT would be tragedy. I MUST NOT let that happen. I could never live with that kind of dry spell again, now that I'm so fully aware of what I'd been missing.

Out with the old, in with the new

My rabbit died on me last night. Died! It's not the batteries; I put fresh batteries in, and the lights still come on when I turn it on. And I still hear a little noise, like it's trying to do something. But no matter how high I turn the power up, my beloved little rabbit is just not moving or vibrating at all on me anymore.

I think I wore the poor little thing out. Seriously, I've put it to a LOT of use since I've had it. It got me through a very long dry spell.

So maybe it's appropriate enough that it is finally dying on me now, now that I have a man in my life to take its place. And he's MUCH better and a thousand times more satisfying than the rabbit. I mean, seriously ... the rabbit gave me a lot of pleasure; but how the fuck did I survive this long without real, live fucking? I don't know, but I'll tell you what; I'm sure as fuck never going anywhere near that long without it again, no matter what. And considering how much of a sex freak as me my new man is, I don't think that'll be a problem anyway.

Still, I am already missing my sweet til-now-reliable bunny. It's provided me with hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of orgasms and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of hours of fun over the past few years. I almost hate to throw it out, even if it's not vibrating for me anymore.

So I think this weekend, when my hometown guy comes up to visit, I'll take him to a sex store with me to do some new toy shopping. After all, he might have as much fun using it on me when we're together from time to time as I'll have using it on myself when I'm not with him. A new toy, to go with my new man; mmmm-hmmm, I think that is definitely a good thing. Oh, and hey, he did mention something one time about an idea he has, something to try, something to do with his electric drill and a dildo ... might be time to give that a try ... hmmmmm .......

So good-bye old rabbit, and old pathetically battery-dependent sex life; hello, new toy, and incredibly exciting and erotic sex-filled life with my hometown guy. Here's to all the orgasms the former provided me during my sad dry spell, and to all the fantastic ones I'm looking forward to having even more of with the latter in all the time to come.

It's been a shit day.

First I slept later than I meant to. I didn't oversleep so much that I was late for work; I just slept over enough that I was in a mad rush to shower and dress and drive to work. And I had a hearing at 10 am this morning, and needed to go by the office first to get my stuff together for it, so that made me feel all the more harried.

Then I got to my hearing. Everything seemed like it was going to go very smoothly. I was bringing an action on behalf of my client against someone for something that seemed kind of ordinary ... in the course of my particular job, that is. Like, it was an ordinary kind of case for me. I walked in, introduced myself to the lawyer on the other side, whom I'd talked to several times before but not yet met, and caught a glimpse of his client in profile from the corner of my eye. And then I sat down and pulled out my files, etc., and lined them up on the table. Said hello to my witnesses.

And then I looked back over at the client on the other side again. The party against whom I was bringing this action on behalf of my own client.

It was fucking one of the nice guys from College Mart. The store around the corner that is open 24/7 that I shop at all the fucking time. I mean; damn. Damn! I was pissed. Because right in that moment, I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. And if not that, then I wanted to be able to stand up and say "nevermind; we withdraw our case." But of course that didn't happen either. Couldn't, or else I'd probably lose my job for doing that kind of shit.

For a very long minute he and I exchanged quick looks across the table from each other, each looking up real quick and then down again in turn w/o making actual eye contact. Then finally our eyes met. I smiled at him; he pointed his finger at me and said "College Mart. Right?" I said "I was just about to say the same thing." "Marlboro Lights," he said. "And cat food too," I replied. Everyone else laughed.

Just to give a little more info: this particular guy usually works the late night/early morning shift, and so I don't see him all that often. But I have seen him plenty enough, and made the nice quick little exchange of info often enough. He got to know me as a regular, so that we'd say hi whenever I did see him in there. And he actually did give me a free pack of Marlboro Lights one time. One time when I had gotten up super early for work b/c I had a big emergency hearing that I was stressed out about and trying to prepare for and couldn't sleep as a result of, I went to College Mart about 4:30 in the morning for a 20oz cup of coffee and a pack of cigs, and he only charged me for the coffee. I said something, and he said "don't worry about it." And I smiled and said "thanks." And meant it. So I'm sayin ... I felt like shit, seeing him there in this room. Knowing I was the bad guy to him in this particular situation. It sucked.

The hearing took about 4 hours. There was no ruling at the end of it, so I don't know yet which side won. I of course did what I had to do for my job ... but at the same time, I was not overly aggressive in any way; I conceded a few minor things to his lawyer, and I secretly internally in my head smiled whenever his lawyer scored a good point. Because really given how weak my case was compared to normal ones, and the fact that it was this guy, I wanted him to win. But not enough to not do my job. So it was quite the internal dilemma.

Well that was my morning. And that sucked. And it all put me in a bad mood.

And then I came home, and found another fucking headache waiting at my door.

See, today was trash pick-up day in my neighborhood. I have recently done quite a lot of spring cleaning, getting rid of old clothes that I haven't worn in years and that are too frayed/hole-y/etc. to even give away, getting rid basically of a lot of junk that I shouldn't be holding on to and that actually isn't even worth selling or giving away. And in the process, I had filled up a lot of Hefty Flex garbage bags with junk to be tossed. And those bags had been sitting just outside my back door, waiting for garbage pickup. A lot of them in my roll cart ... but a lot of them on the ground, too, b/c the roll car was full.

Well this morning, after I put my roll cart out by the curb, I saw my neighbor put his roll cart out. Actually, I should say his and his mother's, b/c he lives next door with his mother, a nice woman. But he's a little shit. A guy who is young but still too old to be living with his mother, in my opinion, kind of guy basically. And then the guy got in his car and left. Well since he'd left, and his mother had already left before that, and there was their garbage roll cart out by the curb waiting for collection, which occurs early in the morning in our part of the neighborhood, I decided that they definitely must have put out all the garbage they intended to put out today for collection, and so I went outside and looked in their roll cart to see whether it was full or not. It was only half full. So I put some of my bags in it; I managed to squeeze four more of my Heft Flex bags in their roll cart. And that left me with only three extra bags, which I put by the curb.

And a boring but important to this story side note is that I have found out from previous experience that our city's garbage collectors who empty our roll carts will pick up up to 4 additional garbage bags you leave by your curb that don't fit into your roll cart, but that if there are more than 4 extra bags then they leave all of those alone, and you're supposed to call the city department to ask them to send a special truck around your house to pick up all the extras. So you see, I knew that I would now have all my bags collected, because all but 3 were in roll carts now.

Well when my hearing was over today, around 2 pm, I swung by my house to grab a bite to eat for lunch. When I pulled up to the house, I noticed the neighbor son's shit car parked by the house, so I figured he was home. And then I noticed my roll carts at the curb, looking empty. And then I saw the garbage bags on the ground by the curb, still there .... seven of them.

Seven? Wtf?, I thought. I suspected, but I thought "surely not." But of course, when I looked, there were the three extras that I had put out that morning on the ground ... as well as the four that I had squeezed in to the neighbor's top half of their only half-filled roll cart.

Sonofabitch. That fucking little pipsqueak must have come home after I left but before the garbage pick up truck came by, saw that his rollcart was fuller than it had been (b/c the top wouldn't fully close after I put my bags in it), realized they were mine, and fucking took them out and put them on the ground. And then since that made 7 on the ground, the regular trash people of course did not collect them. Sonofabitch.

Now you may be wondering to yourself whether I should really be blaming this neighbor son guy. Who would do that, you might ask? Take garbage out and toss it aside. Maybe, you might be thinking, we should give him the benefit of the doubt, and say even though SOMEONE obviously took JUST MY bags out of that particular roll cart, maybe the neighbors came back home to put more garbage in their roll cart for collection, and couldn't fit it in b/c of my bags, and that's why they took my bags out. But, that's a stretch. Because seriously, our garbage gets picked up at around 9 to 10 am usually, and he'd already put their cart by the curb and left ... for what I thought was the day but was probably just a trip to the grocery store. Anyway, point is, I did not take up their cart with my shit beforehand or in any way such that I was keeping them from being able to use all their available garbage space; they clearly only had half a roll cart worth of garbage to empty. So why the fuck take my bags out? Why go to that trouble?

Well since you asked, I'll tell you why. It's because of the back gate. That's right ... the back gate, the one in the fence in our shared back yard. I know you're thinking I'm crazy and/or getting way off track of my story here, but just bear with me; I'll explain.

See, about a month ago I came home from a trip to the grocery store one afternoon, parked my car in our shared carport, and walked through our open gate to our fenced-in back yard, to go through my back door into my side of our duplex. And as I was walking through the gate, the neighbor son came out the back door of their half of the duplex and accosted me. He yelled at me ... for leaving the gate open.

Apparently after I had left for the store, he had let their two little (fucking annoying) lap dogs out their back door, to play and poop in our back yard. And he must not have been supervising them; he must have assumed the back gate was closed. Because one of them wandered outside our yard. And the neighbor boy was yelling at me, saying it was my fault that one of his dogs was missing, because I didn't close the gate. (The dogs were not outside when I left, I remind you.) "I have to come out here every damn day behind you and close this gate. And now one of my dogs is missing, all because of you." He was yelling this. It was not a pleasant moment for me. I sheepishly apologized (I do not like getting yelled at, and felt I was in the wrong at the moment because I HAD left the back gate open), and I quickly went inside my house.

And that's when I started getting irritated ... because I thought to myself, after I got inside my house, "they never asked me to keep that gate closed. I've lived here years longer than they have; I was already in the habit of leaving the gate open whenever I wanted. And when they moved in a year and a half ago, they didn't say anything to me about the gate, or the backyard, or their dogs ... they've had plenty of opportunity to ask me politely to keep the back gate closed if it was an issue with the dogs, but they never did. And now he's YELLING at me for not doing something that he never bothered to politely ask me to do in the first place? And isn't it HIS fucking responsibility anyway to make sure that the dogs don't run away, since they're his dogs ... I mean the dogs weren't outside when I left; so when he decided to let the dogs outside, why didn't he check first to make sure the gate was closed, if it was an issue, since they're his damn dogs and he'd never asked me to keep it closed? I mean, fuck!" So yeah, I got belatedly mad. And of course never said anything to him later about it, or his mother, though I wanted to, because I kept thinking to myself whenever I saw the neighbor boy (I started out this blog calling him neighbor son, and am now calling him neighbor boy, I just realized ... I think it's because I've gotten more annoyed at him yet again as I've been writing this, and neighbor boy just sounds slightly more demeaning) I think to myself looking at him, "you are a shithead for yelling at me over something that wasn't my fault ... and then never apologizing for it afterward. You little pipsqueak shithead." (Yeah, I'm not always very creative with my mental insults.)

(By the way, the annoying fuckass lapdog was quickly found by neighbor pipsqueak boy. And was soon safely back inside their side of the house. Barking like shit as always, traveling easily through the walls of the duplex, annoying the hell out of me. Not that I've ever complained to them about it, because I'm not that petty kind of neighbor that he apparently is.)

So I'm just sayin' ... I just KNOW that's totally why that neighbor pipsqueak boy took my bags out of his roll cart right before garbage collection time. Not because my bags were taking up space he needed; but just because he wanted to get back at me for leaving the damn back gate open that time. The little shit.

By the way, I vented about this earlier today to my Hometown Guy, and he said that neighbor boy no longer deserves for me to make the effort to always shut the gate behind me, after this little show of unjustified pettiness. In fact, he suggested that from now on, or at least until I get an apology, I make a concerted effort to make sure the gate stays open all the time. So if I'm at home, for instance, and I've left the gate open, and neighbor shitheadpipsqueak comes home and closes it, I should wait two minutes or so after he's gone inside, and then go out and open the gate. Even though I don't even want to walk through it to go anywhere. Just open it, and then go back inside. What do you all think? Would you do that, given this story I've just related?

One last shit moment about my day so far. See all that other stuff put me in a bad mood. But when I got home from work at the end of the day, I was ready to put my bad day behind me. Or try to anyway. And I decided to do some laundry, in particular to wash and change the sheets on my bed. So I was in my bedroom, and I pulled off the topsheet and threw it in the washing machine. And then I grabbed hold of the bottom fitted sheet, and pulled. And I guess the smart thing to do would've been to go around to each corner of the bed and untuck the fitted corners before I pulled it off. But I'm not always smart, so instead I just grabbed a handful and pulled. Hard. For a second nothing happened; there was no movement of the sheet. But then suddenly it pulled free. Like, fast. So fast and suddenly as I was pulling on it so mightily with my fists that one of my fists came right back at me and smacked me in my fucking nose. And I heard something in my nose snap, like in a sick way. Since I did not start bleeding from my nose, and since the pain, though sucking initially, soon went away, I'm assuming I didn't break anything. But I definitely bent some cartilage way the fuck out of its normal position. Because it was a sick sound, when my own fist punched my own nose. And frankly, that's just a fitting end to a sucky day.

But at least I do have a consolation, a great one: tonight, in just a couple hours actually, I am off to drive down to the Hometown Guy's home, to have a late-night date with him and spend the night ... and the weekend. Because I don't work tomorrow, and he doesn't have to work much tomorrow. So woohoo; I'm about to get three whole nights and days in a row's worth of fucking. And sweetness and romance and fantastic companionship too. And THAT is just AWESOME.

Have a great weekend, everyone!!!

More Awesome Fucking Fun With My New Boyfriend

The Hometown Guy spent the weekend with me at my house. We did lots of home-y things together, actually; like, he changed light bulbs for me in the ceiling lights that I could never reach but he could; he did things around the house for me that involve using power tools and hammers and shit that have needed to be done but that I've never bothered to do; he even went to my office with me over the weekend to help me hang a couple pictures there that I hadn't yet hung. He did so much stuff of that nature for me this weekend, just to lend me a hand with some stuff, and he fucking OFFERED to do those things, I didn't rope him into doing them. It was just so sweet, and so great. And so nice to be able to hang out with him and have fun together and make each other laugh so much while we were doing all of that.

This is definitely becoming serious. And I love it.

Oh ... and while we were in my office hanging those pictures over the weekend, he also fulfilled one of my fantasies for me ... by bending me over my desk and fucking me hard from behind. Oh hell yeah; he's a keeper.

Prepping for the big weekend

My awesome Hometown Guy is coming up to spend the weekend with me at my house this weekend. I'm very excited, for many reasons: (a) I haven't seen him in over a week right now, and I'm going through Hometown Guy withdrawal; (b) it's going to be the first full weekend we spend together (last time was just one overnight; this will be a whole weekend full of fun and sex); (c) I'm going to take him to a party I've been invited to Friday night, where I'll get to introduce him to people, including my awesome boss who I adore, and be all proud and happy and giddy that I have a man with me, who is MY man, and who is such a fantastic man at that; (d) he hasn't even been inside my house yet, which is kinda crazy, but I guess it really hasn't been all that long yet that we've been seeing each other, even though it seems like it has been; and (e) I'm super horny, I've been masturbating like crazy since I last saw him. Seriously, several times a day, every day. And the rabbit, while nice, pales in comparison to his cock.

So in preparation for the big weekend, I've made a list of tons of things I want to do before he gets here; I just keep adding to it whenever I think of something new. Of course, first thing is just to clean my house; to try my best to make it cozy and nice and stuff. Also, I'm going to bathe the kitties and clip their claws, because they need to look nice for him too. (They're so going to hate that.) I'm going to recharge the battery on my camera, because I want more pictures of us together. (We've already taken a bunch on his camera of us fucking; man, we're hot together. In my humble opinion. But I want more!) I'm going to make a good grocery list this week so I can go food shopping on Friday; I want to cook with him, and of course I just might have to tempt him into eating off of my body: I'm thinking whipped cream, honey, chocolate ... hmmm. And that brings me to what's actually the most important thing on my to do list: I'm getting a brazilian wax Friday afternoon. Because with all the shit that's been going on this past month, I haven't managed to fit one in to my schedule so far, since I met him that is, and I want to be completely, totally, utterly smooth and silky and sexy and just feeling and exuding raw sex appeal for him this weekend. And he's gonna like it; oh yeah he is. And that mean's I'm gonna LOVE it.

Hee hee. Man it's fun to be this excited again. :)

It's Nice When You Can Still Make Each Other Smile ...

I just ran into my ex-boyfriend, for the first time in 2 years. Crazy.

It's kind of crazy that that's the first time we've run into each other in so long. We broke up three years ago, but our city isn't all THAT big, you know? I imagine that I probably used to think more about whether we would run into each other or not, that first year or so following the breakup anyway. And there have been a few times in the last two years when I've thought about him randomly, because I was shopping in the grocery store closest to his house, the one I used to go to all the time but now only go to if I happen to be driving right past it and think of one or two things I want to stop in for on the spur of the moment; or because I was visiting someone who lived in his neighborhood; or because I was hanging out with someone at the bar he and I used to go to almost every day after work for a beer and a game of pool. But it's been a really long time since I can remember just randomly thinking about him like that; and it's so funny that when I did run into him, all these years later, the last guy I seriously dated before my horrid two and a half year dry spell began, it was in a moment when I was thinking solely about my new guy.

See I just pulled into the College Mart on the corner near my house, on my way home from work, to buy a can of cat food for the kitties and a tonic for me, to go with my vodka (that I just poured a few minutes ago). And as I was driving, and as I was pulling in and parking, my mind was on my Hometown Guy, who I'm going to see again this Thursday evening at his house in the hometown, and who is then going to spend the weekend with me here at my house. And I was feeling all gushy and happy, because I was thinking about that, about him, and about how gushy and happy he makes me feel. And that's the moment when I look up and see my ex, standing just outside of the College Mart, buying a paper before he headed inside to get a diet pepsi, on his way home from work too.

And it was nice. Seeing him. It was such a surprise, so unexpected, that it was kind of interesting to see what emotions I'd feel on seeing him, on talking to him ... and what I felt was just a pleasant feeling of seeing a very familiar face of someone I was once very, very close to, but without any awkwardness, without any lingering hurt, and without any lingering attraction or romance either ... it was just, well, nice.

So we chatted for a few minutes. I almost told him that I'm dating someone from my hometown, as we were catching up with each other, it almost slipped out, but I realized first that it really probably isn't proper ex-etiquette to bring up someone new you're dating and currently crushing on hard when that person hasn't asked, and when you don't know whether that person is currently happily dating someone themselves or not. So I didn't go there; instead we just exchanged your basic pleasantries, mostly about work and about pets, and said how good it was to see each other.

He paid for his drink first, and left first; we said goodbye, and then I put my stuff up on the counter. And as the ex was climbing into his car and pulling away from the College Mart, the guy behind the counter, who I see all the time because I shop there all the time, said to me: "Sweetie, I don't know what you said to him, but I have to tell you: that guy has been coming in here for years, and that is the first time I have ever seen him smile." And then this girl who works there too jumped in and said "what guy?", and the clerk pointed him out, said "that guy, the Solicitor. He comes in here all the time, always looking so serious."

So I told them that's my ex, told them it was the first time we'd run into each other in years. The clerk said "well he sure must have been happy to see you, because I'm telling you, I'm serious, that is the first time I have ever seen that guy smile. He looked happy just now." I said "well we were together a long time, but that was a long time ago." He said "aw, that's a shame." But then he said "actually, though, that's kind of nice. That you both reacted right away seeing each other after all this time with such big smiles. It must not have ended too badly, if you both seemed happy to see each other, even if you never really want to see each other again, you know?" Yeah, I'm paraphrasing here, but I knew what he meant. It's nice to know that, even if you don't want that person in your life anymore, going forward, it can still spark a pleasant emotion and trigger a genuine smile to see each other unexpectedly, given how much you both meant to each other at one time. Kind of like evidence that you both touched each others' lives in a good way in the past.

Of course, as I sit here writing this now, I remember how our sex life was towards the end of that relationship, how completely it had dwindled and fizzled and just turned uninterested ... and having experienced that in the past, and now experiencing the beginning of a new relationship with someone new, with my Hometown Guy, all I can think is, "damn, I've got it GOOD THIS time around ..." and that makes me ec-fucking-static. :D

I'm kick ass

Today I was in court for an emergency hearing. A 6-plus hour hearing, seeking immediate injunctive relief, that I only had notice of to prepare for as of Monday, two days ago. (Well ok, I knew on Friday afternoon late that it was going to be coming, but I had more important things to do over the weekend, like go up to the mountains with my new man to get the shit fucked out of me.)

So the past 48 hours have been crazy busy at work getting ready for this hearing, and today was a long day. But I won; but even better, (well I guess I shouldn't say even better, I guess I should say the cherry on top), was that the big boss man was in court watching the entire hearing, and when it was over he complimented me, said he was impressed, and, here's my favorite quote, told me that my "presentation of the case was flawless." Flawless! I have to agree. Not to be immodest or anything, but shit, when the big boss man is right, he's right.

That's me: flawless, and kick ass.

(p.s. One of my clients was in court watching, he wasn't even involved in this particular case, but he was extremely interested in it, and he wanted to watch; during one of the breaks, he said to me: "I'd be scared to come up against you in court. I'm just glad I've got you on MY side." That was awesome too.)

Happy Birthday To Me!

Just in time for my birthday, I have received the greatest gift: a sweet, sexy, smart, funny man who is wooing me hard, who I am crazy about, and who is fucking me good. I mean DAMN good. What more can I ask for?

This weekend the hometown guy and I went up to a cabin in the mountains, for our first overnight together. We explored a couple cute little mountain towns, stumbled upon a wine tasting, went out to eat at some nice places. He gave me an awesome birthday present when he first picked me up for our weekend, and then bought me another one in one of the shops we went into in one of the mountain towns. And we fucked like a couple of teenagers; I mean seriously, it's like we can't get enough of each other. We fucked in the bed, on the floor in front of a roaring fire, bent over furniture. Unfortunately in all of my excitement to finally have a sex life again, I rode him a little too hard, and squeezed him a little too tight, and ended up bruising his poor dick. But he's a champ, and he didn't let a bruised dick stop him from fucking me even more.

I did discover one hazard on our trip, though, and I feel like I should share it with you as a bit of a cautionary tale, a message to be careful, if you will. It's really not a good idea to suck your boyfriend's cock while he's driving the car on curvy mountain roads. You might accidentally knock the gearshift into neutral with your upper torso while pressing your head into his lap, and he might be so caught up in the pleasure of the moment that he might not notice that the car is no longer accelerating ... and no one wants to have to explain that THAT's how they ended up getting into an accident. Thank goodness he got us back into drive before we started rolling backwards and fell off the mountain ... he's got good reflexes, my new man.

Yes, overall I'd have to say that my 34th birthday is the best damn one I've had so far. I predict this is going to be a most excellent year indeed.

SO THIS IS MADNESS

I used to think I might be just a slight bit off kilter from the rest of the world, a tad bit crazy, just a hair or two away from being what you could call truly sane. But man, I didn't have a clue ...

Because I am truly wrapped up in insanity right now. Wonderful insanity. Ecstatic, vibrant, psychadelic insanity, my world full of bright colors, greens and hot pinks and oranges and fire engine reds and turquoises and canary yellows and fuschias. I hear music, wonderful rocking grooving makes-you-want-to-get-your-freak-on music, every minute of the day.

I am alive. I am hyper-sensitive, in the most exquisite way. I am orgasmic.

I have somehow unwittingly stumbled upon the world's biggest happy pill.

I am drunk. Intoxicated. High. And out of my mind with madness.

And this madness is delicious. It is exotic and erotic and powerful. It has consumed my mind and my heart and my soul. And ALL of my sexual organs.

I am Dr. Frankenstein's monster. He has awakened me and put a crazy-ass spell over me.

I am his freak, and he is mine.

Please let this madness never end.

What A Wet Day

It's raining outside right now. I have my window open. It sounds so nice.

I just recovered from one hell of an orgasm. It had been building up all day ... seriously, ALL FUCKING DAY. My hometown EH match got me revved the fuck UP today at work, with his im's ... man oh man oh man. This was a most unexpected match ... and I'm just delighted so far. And if he's going to im me like this often, then I need to start wearing panties underneath my skirt to work ... because my pussy was soaked for him today.

Seriously, what will my drycleaner think?

Asshat

I got a phone call today from Asshat ... he's read my brief, and wants an extension for his reply. Well that's no big deal; what kills me, though, is just my curiosity about what he must think about me, especially today since he's just read that brief, and what kinds of things he's thinking and feeling that he doesn't say, but that I swear I just know are there ... I mean, have you ever talked to someone over the phone or whatever and you just KNOW that they're thinking about something, probably the same thing you are (b/c well you're already thinking about what they must be thinking about, so if you're right about it then of course you're both thinking about the same thing ... and I guess if you're wrong then, well, then there's probably no point to this post ...) and it's just curious that the conversation nevertheless is so incredibly polite? So fakely polite? Maybe you have to have been around the person enough already that you sort of just detect, with your gut feeling, that their tone of voice is too practiced, too acted ... too different from what it is when they're letting their guard down a bit. Anyway, that's how I felt with this guy, I could tell it was just killing him to be polite to me over the phone; see ever since that trial, and God ESPECIALLY now that I've written that brief that uses as several of its grounds things that weren't properly preserved and things that weren't properly argued and things where he just has totally misinterpreted the law (like in an obvious way) ... anyway, see ever since then I know, I just KNOW, that he hates me. And I think it's partly just his personality; he's the alpha dog, doesn't like to be shown up, which is an unfortunate characteristic to have combined with a certain degree of ineptitude in general (see, they screw up but just refuse to see that they have, and are so self-righteous and adamant in their arguments after the fact, bless their poor souls), and I don't think he likes to be shown up by me in particular - prior to trial he used to act super friendly towards me, but like he was taking me into his confidence and talking down to me, like he expected I was someone he could manipulate or something, someone he didn't have to worry about as far as being a competent adversary in court ... and also, frankly, as part of that way that he used to talk to me back then, when I think he was just thinking he was playing his game and taking care of the competetion, he also used to flirt with me; subtlely, but definitely flirting (he's about 8 years, maybe not quite that much, ok maybe 6 years, older than I am, and single) ... and now, with all of those combined circumstances and emotions etc., it's like when I talk to him there's this sense of animosity ... God you really would've have to have seen him in trial almost to get the picture I'm trying to paint with words here, his demeanor changed over the course of that trial, and man but he took it all personally, and got pissed at times ... I want to say it's an undercurrent of passion, except this passion isn't lust or what have you, it's something entirely different (though perhaps somewhat inspired by all sorts of different other emotions perhaps somewhat related to lust, at least partially, at least in the beginning anyway, when all this started with this case a couple years ago), anyway, yeah it's just an undercurrent, but I don't know - it's too strong; it's too detectable; it's visceral, I could sense it like it was hitting all my senses - vision, hearing, everything, I could just sense it so clearly: this guy HATES me ... and I find that intriguing.

Update on the hometown guy:

I emailed with him several times today, then we talked at length on the phone tonight. I'm definitely going to meet up with him soon - probably in the hometown; I've been needing to visit the parents anyway, they're always asking when I'm coming home for another visit. Man, it still cracks me up that I got matched up with someone on eharmony who grew up in my small town; I mean we know so many people in common, it's just too funny.

By the way, he told me that I'm probably the only person in my immediate family that he doesn't really know (he knows my parents and my sister pretty well) ... then he added "but I did see you for the first time when you were only a few days old. I was six. You probably don't remember." God that makes me want to marry him, just to be able to tell people that that's how we first met, even though we didn't really meet again until 33 years later.

Oh, how funny ...

I was just matched up on eharmony with a guy from my hometown - - my very, very small hometown - - whose family I've known all my life. How funny.

I didn't recognize his picture, and I only had a first name to go on, so I didn't realize who he was until he pieced it together and wrote me back filling me in. He and I know each other's parents and brothers and sisters fairly well (my older sister and his younger brother are the same age and were good friends in high school, and our parents know each other really well, our dads are both doctors in our small town and colleagues), but I guess he and I were too far apart in age (six years) to have crossed paths much as kids, and then he left town before I even started high school. But I guess he moved back there at some point, and has been back for a while. Is divorced, with a young daughter. And is friendly with my parents. And now he and I were randomly matched on eharm.

Actually, this is the third guy I've been matched up with on eharmony that I had some weird connection with: one guy was my brother-in-law's business banker; another guy was a lawyer who worked at my old big firm at the same time I did; and now this, a guy whose family is friends with my family and who is back living in my hometown.

I guess if we decided to go out on a date, that fact could be kinda convenient; I could drive down there, go out with him, and then spend the night with my parents. Oh no, it's going to be high school all over again.

How's eharmony going, you ask?

Well, let me share some of my matches and some of their information with you, and then you tell me:

Philip is a “Business Man” who is most passionate about his “ABILITY TO HANDLE ISSUES” and is most thankful for his “religious Belief.” The first thing you’ll notice about him is his “smartness” and one thing he wishes more people would notice about him is his “Vision." He apparently is also big on capitalization. Some words need to be capitalized at the beginning to make them stand out from non-capitalized words, and of course some words really deserve to be in all caps. It has something to do with his smartness and his Vision, I guess.

Chris, whose occupation is “Technical Writer/Amateur Fitness Instructor," is most passionate about “Helping those that don't have the ability to help themselves or that have been somehow wronged and can't help themselves.” He's a true do-gooder, that Chris, helping all those people who can't help themselves ... you know, the wronged ones.

Three things that Adam can’t live without are “water, air, and food.” I'm glad he included that on his info page, because it definitely makes him stand out from, say, every other human being on the planet.

Patrick’s occupation is being “very well employed.” Aha. One thing he wishes more people would notice about him is "I am normal." I'm sure he is.

Things that Martin can’t live without are “self pity, depression, greedy, nasty attitude, and rude”. Somehow I think Martin thought he was answering a different question.

Also, one thing that only Martin's best friends know about him is that he is “nice to the wrong people." I'd say that Martin has people issues ... but that's just a guess.

Scot wants you to know that "I am actually a freak, I just put on a good act in the right situations." Oh boy, sign me up for a date.

Dan wants you to know that he is "not a fan of selfish people." Shoot, I was kinda hoping to find someone who was down with selfish people, but maybe I was just being too selfish.

Bud, the "massage therapist," can't live without the Kama Sutra, because it is "sexy stuff." He enjoys "trying out all the positions with [his] blow-up doll." Another thing he can’t live without is "great ganja." He wants to "be your sugar daddy!" More information that Bud wants you to know: "Lets get out of here and frolic naked and drunk on a yacht in the tropics." Somehow I just don’t think that Bud is serious about eharmony.

Nathan is a “Consultative Sales Consultant." I had never heard of that particular occupation before. I wonder what distinguishes a consultative sales consultant from a nonconsultative sales consultant. Something to ponder.

Eli says that the first thing you’ll notice about him is his "lack of appearance, (Function over Fashion).” I'm glad he included that little parenthetical, I was afraid at first that he might be a ghost. By the way, Ethan would also like you to know that he is “super chill.”

Chris, who enjoys playing the banjo, wants you to know that “Given a choice between flipping cartwheels at a party or club or spending a quiet evening at home” he'll take the evening at home. I don't know why those were his only two options, but good to know I guess.

Alfredo is an "actor/model" / tooth-fetishist. He is most passionate about “Love that penetrates the thickest walls and can fly over to the moon," and he is looking for a partner with the following qualities: “Good teeth...great kisser and a passionate person...knows how to dress and have fun.” Alfredo wishes that more people would notice that he is "a great lover," and that he has "good teeth" and "great shoes." Ok seriously, what's up with the teeth thing.

One thing that only Eric's best friends know about him is that he has "smoked the doobage in the past and will probably smoke it again in the future." Ok, I have to admit here that I almost closed Eric out based on his other info, but then I actually decided to keep him open for kicks when I read that answer.

Mickey says that the first thing you’ll notice about him is “good vibes.” More info he’d like you to know about him is that “ladies should be treated like ladies.” I personally think that Mickey was smoking some of Eric's doobage while he was answering his eharm questions, but who knows.

One of the things that Damian can’t live without is “A growing personal relationship with my Creator.” Too bad, because if there's one thing I can't stand it's a mamma's boy.

Yeah, this eharmony thing is going great.

Take That, Asshat!!!

Man, I wrote a kick-ass brief today. Finished and filed a kick-ass brief today I mean.

Old asshat is not going to be a happy boy when he reads it either. It's that good, and it really shows how wrong he is - - places where he screwed up at trial, didn't preserve things he thinks are great issues on appeal, totally has the law all wrong on what he describes in his brief as his most compelling argument for reversal ... hehehe; is it bad that it feels so good to kick someone's ass in court like this? Nah, not in this case I don't think; because it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun writing and filing that brief if he hadn't been such a fucking asshat thinks-he-knows-it-all douchebag.

Hehehe.

(btw, I'm strangely happy right now over work, yes over WORK; I think this strange feeling is ... pride maybe? or just joy at kicking someone's ass who really deserved to be knocked down a peg and made to see he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about a lot of the time. Well yeah, pride too I think ... I mean, I'm so fucking proud I wish I could post the two briefs, his and mine, side by side here to let you read and compare and lavish well-deserved praises on me and my kick-assedness when it comes to writing appellate briefs, this one in particular. I hand-delivered his copy to him on my way home, btw ... handed it over to his receptionist; too bad I couldn't hang around in his office and watch him open and read it ... watch him blow his fuse, which I bet he's going to do ... seriously, this was one of those cases where on appeal it's not that he had a bad case and I had a good case, although yeah that was true too, but mostly it was that he screwed up in his lawyering and I didn't. Hehehe ....)

This probably is not a good sign.

I have an appellate brief due tomorrow. It must be filed by 5pm tomorrow afternoon.

I have an extremely long, extremely rough draft at this point. It needs a lot of work to be ready to be filed.

Strangely, I am not upset by this prospect. I'm not feeling any anxiety, stress, panic, adrenaline; not really worried, not really worked up about it. Huh. That confuses me. Usually at this point I would be pretty freaking out and pumped up, practically pulling my hair out and typing madly on the computer and barking at anyone who so much as pops their head in my office to say hello, because I'd feel I had no time for hellos. (No time for hellos, is that a song?) Weird that I haven't hit that point yet.

Probably not a good thing either, since it's usually that big burst of adrenaline that pushes me through the final stages of a big brief like this, that makes it all come together in a good way by the deadline.

Eh, most likely I just haven't had enough coffee yet this morning. Give me a few hours, and I bet the panic starts to set in.

My vow to be a better mentor:

Our small office hires 4 law clerks every year. They work for us full-time during the summer and part-time during their following school year. We accept applications in the spring from first-year and second-year law school students. If we hire a person in their first year in law school, that person is welcome to stay with us for two years (the summer before/during their second year, and the summer before/during their third year), or they can just stay w/ us one year and then look for something else to do the next year if they want to change experiences.

I've worked at my place of employment for 4 years. I'd say that my first year here, I got along well with our law clerks, but I didn't ask them to do much for me, b/c frankly I was still in the learning/transitioning process myself and felt a need to just get comfortable with my job, and with my knowledge of the cases that the people I work with in my office typically work on. Basically I didn't feel like I was in a position to delegate and supervise work, not that first year.

My second and third years here, I was much more involved with our law clerks. I was more comfortable with my own knowledge of what we do (most importantly of what I was doing) and of what was going on in all our cases (that I was a part of) and basically felt more comfortable giving assignments and supervising a clerk's work. I discovered that I really liked it; not in a heady/authoritative way, but in a way of becoming the type of clerk supervisor who is easy to talk to, tries to be helpful and to explain things when clerks have questions about how to go about doing something, likes to be able to introduce them to new things/new areas of law/new cases/new types of things to do in a law practice and have them be able to get that experience, and also generally taking an interest in our clerks and happy to share with them my thoughts on practicing law in general, in comparing my own different experiences in the different legal work environments I've been a part of (I've clerked for a judge, I've worked at a big firm, one of the top 4 in my state, as an associate attorney on the partnership track doing litigation, mostly defense work, and I've worked in this small office where I am now, still doing litigation but in a much more relaxed setting with lesser working hours/demands compared to the big firm), and I've been open to giving advice (or at least sharing my thoughts, if not actually giving advice) to them whenever they expressed an interest in talking to me about, well, whatever they wanted to talk to me about. (I also may or may not have developed a crush on one of the clerks we had during that 2-year time period, who ended up becoming one of my best friends and longest-running-blog-reader ... love ya babe.) And I've been an advocate in our office for planning social/after-work events where we could all get together and invite our clerks and have cocktails and what have you ... I even hosted one office party for our law clerks (inviting present and past clerks) at my own house, and I stocked pretty good beer for it and had pretty decent snacks at it, if I do say so myself.

But this past year, when we've had 4 brand new clerks, I've not really spent much time or energy or thought on any of them. And unlike what may have once been jokingly (I think) suggested by a certain (former law clerk) person, it's not because I'm not crushing on any of them; it's because of a combination of factors, primarily that (a) I've been busy as hell this past year, to the point that it actually has seemed like it would always be easier for me to do something myself rather than give some particular task to a law clerk to do, have to explain and supervise the task, and then not know how good the results would be and how much it would help; (b) in line with that first factor, I've not felt like I've had time, when I've been busy (which has been most of the time) this past year to sit and chat in general or, work-wise, take the time to explain what's going on in a particular case or what have you to give the clerk enough background info to prepare them to be able to do an assignment for one of my cases, given that all our clerks were new this past year; (c) I've been feeling kind of burnt-out, bitter, over it if you will, as far as taking an interest in people I work with this past year; and (d) none of our clerks this past year were very interesting overall, not much personality, and unlike certain past clerks (ahem) didn't give off a vibe like they were interested in me ... I mean, weren't pro-active, never came to me to chat/ask questions/ask for advice/ask for assignments, whatever.

But, now that we're in the process of interviewing to hire 4 brand new clerks (all 4 from this past year are leaving, I'm not upset by that one bit), I'm getting excited again about the prospect of getting fresh, eager (ok, if not eager then at least not jaded/bitter/worn, like the faces of the attorneys in our office) new faces in the office, hoping they'll be interesting and add some much-needed personality to our office, and looking forward to the idea of taking an interest again, in who they are and in giving them good assignments and in taking them to trials and depositions and stuff, to give them experience and hope that they will enjoy it and feel like they've learned something by working with us. And looking forward to more social events too, the "welcome new clerks" party this spring, the "get to know the law clerks" lunches and after-work-happy-hours during the summer, the "celebrating the end of the summer" party, the "sneaking a boob and ass grab when no one else is looking" christmas party (oh, wait, make that just the christmas party). I guess if they don't seem to want my mentoring or don't seem friendly/talkative/whatever then I'll get over this feeling pretty quickly, but I'm hoping they'll be good; I'm hoping, basically, primarily, that they will add something to the office that makes my workdays a little bit brighter once again. And if they'll do that for me, then I'll be a good mentor for them, I promise.

And if one of them happens to be a cute guy who decides to start flirting with me, well hey, that would be good too.