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.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Nice...
One of my new eharmony matches has about 5 pictures posted in his profile. I was just clicking through them, and when I got to the last one I smiled: he's shirtless, wearing just jeans. Nice chest. This is the first eharmony guy I've looked at who has posted a picture of himself bare-chested like this. Hmmm.
I'm thinking more about what my reaction to the photo is right now. Is it:
(A) Hot to see a pic of a guy shirtless in jeans, who has a nice chest, well-defined pecs and abs, good sprinkling of chest hair, allover making a sexy impression;
(B) Somewhat sketchy or weird that a guy on eharmony posted a shirtless pic of himself on a dating site;
(C) A sign that this guy might be open to having casual sex early on, and that he's probably a very sexual person in general;
(D) A sign that he's narcissitic;
(E) I shouldn't think about it too much, based on (A), but should just go for this guy, especially in light of (C).
I'm thinking more about what my reaction to the photo is right now. Is it:
(A) Hot to see a pic of a guy shirtless in jeans, who has a nice chest, well-defined pecs and abs, good sprinkling of chest hair, allover making a sexy impression;
(B) Somewhat sketchy or weird that a guy on eharmony posted a shirtless pic of himself on a dating site;
(C) A sign that this guy might be open to having casual sex early on, and that he's probably a very sexual person in general;
(D) A sign that he's narcissitic;
(E) I shouldn't think about it too much, based on (A), but should just go for this guy, especially in light of (C).
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Ohh, law clerk interviews; fun...
I just met one of our candidates for a law clerk position a few minutes ago ... he's a cute young law school boy. Very nice. Kinda reminded me a little bit of former law clerk. I hope they offer him the job, and that he takes it ... it would be fun to have a cute new boy around the office again.
Good way to make extra income? Hmmm....
It seems like I've been hearing more and more lately about people who actually pay other people to give their dogs massages. Like, pay a ridiculous amount of money for this service.
Well back when my parents had dogs, I loved petting them, and I'd often end up giving them a sort of massage while I was petting them. Dogs are just so receptive to it - I mean, they just turn into putty when you massage them. Not like my cats - one of my cats likes to be petted a lot, sure, but the other one hardly likes being petted at all; and at any rate, it's not like petting a dog. Dogs just stay still and let their jaws hang open and their tongues roll out their mouths and salivate and love it and just hope you don't stop.
So I'm thinking to myself, if there are people out there willing to actually pay someone else money to massage their dogs, heck, maybe I should advertise somewhere that I'd be willing to do this? I actually like it, it's fun petting dogs, and I used to dig my fingers into my parents' dogs' muscles to work them some, massage them, but w/o doing it too hard ... gently, I'm talking; my fingers massaging their muscles in gentle circles. And they loved it. Hmm, I might have to keep this in mind. I am, after all, in a bit of a financial crunch right now ... went on a few too many shopping sprees the past few months, and it's catching up with me big time right now; I could use some extra moolah.
Of course, those kinds of people probably only want to pay people to massage their dogs who have certificates in dog massage therapy or something. Maybe that's not such a workable idea after all. Well, if anyone knows of any other good ways to earn some extra fash cash, please, by all means, let me know ... I need to make up the next couple months for all the spending and shopping I've done the past couple months. And as sensible as it is to just scrimp and save in this kind of situation until you catch up again and what have you, unfortunately scrimping and saving has just never been my thing.
Well back when my parents had dogs, I loved petting them, and I'd often end up giving them a sort of massage while I was petting them. Dogs are just so receptive to it - I mean, they just turn into putty when you massage them. Not like my cats - one of my cats likes to be petted a lot, sure, but the other one hardly likes being petted at all; and at any rate, it's not like petting a dog. Dogs just stay still and let their jaws hang open and their tongues roll out their mouths and salivate and love it and just hope you don't stop.
So I'm thinking to myself, if there are people out there willing to actually pay someone else money to massage their dogs, heck, maybe I should advertise somewhere that I'd be willing to do this? I actually like it, it's fun petting dogs, and I used to dig my fingers into my parents' dogs' muscles to work them some, massage them, but w/o doing it too hard ... gently, I'm talking; my fingers massaging their muscles in gentle circles. And they loved it. Hmm, I might have to keep this in mind. I am, after all, in a bit of a financial crunch right now ... went on a few too many shopping sprees the past few months, and it's catching up with me big time right now; I could use some extra moolah.
Of course, those kinds of people probably only want to pay people to massage their dogs who have certificates in dog massage therapy or something. Maybe that's not such a workable idea after all. Well, if anyone knows of any other good ways to earn some extra fash cash, please, by all means, let me know ... I need to make up the next couple months for all the spending and shopping I've done the past couple months. And as sensible as it is to just scrimp and save in this kind of situation until you catch up again and what have you, unfortunately scrimping and saving has just never been my thing.
Friday, February 22, 2008
The Day of Compliments
I received good compliments from people today.
They made me happy because, well, it always feels good to get compliments, and I don't get them all that often (it feels like anyway).
First, two different people I work with told me that my hair looks really pretty today. Like, at different times of the day. Really? Aww, thanks, I said, kinda surprised, b/c it was said like maybe I'd done something different to it recently, but I haven't. Except that I have been using a new shampoo, from Bath and Body Works, coconut lime verbena moisturizing shampoo and conditioner. And it did seem like my hair felt extra soft this morning when I was blowing it dry.
Second, at the end of a meeting at the end of the day today, after finally coming to a decision with my clients on how to proceed on something that had been a somewhat grey and sticky situation and required lots of legal research and advice and general discussion to resolve, one of my clients told me that I am "a very smart attorney." I thanked her, and she followed up by saying "I mean it, I actually said the same thing to [so-and-so, this woman's boss] last week ... you're a very smart attorney. I'm glad we have you working with us." Well that just made me smile so big I thought my face would split, I was so happy.
Between the two, though, it would be hard to pick which compliment I really liked best ... I mean it's nice to hear that your client thinks you're a smart attorney, and appreciates you and the work you do ... but it's super, super nice to know that you have good hair, and that other people notice and think it's pretty :D
They made me happy because, well, it always feels good to get compliments, and I don't get them all that often (it feels like anyway).
First, two different people I work with told me that my hair looks really pretty today. Like, at different times of the day. Really? Aww, thanks, I said, kinda surprised, b/c it was said like maybe I'd done something different to it recently, but I haven't. Except that I have been using a new shampoo, from Bath and Body Works, coconut lime verbena moisturizing shampoo and conditioner. And it did seem like my hair felt extra soft this morning when I was blowing it dry.
Second, at the end of a meeting at the end of the day today, after finally coming to a decision with my clients on how to proceed on something that had been a somewhat grey and sticky situation and required lots of legal research and advice and general discussion to resolve, one of my clients told me that I am "a very smart attorney." I thanked her, and she followed up by saying "I mean it, I actually said the same thing to [so-and-so, this woman's boss] last week ... you're a very smart attorney. I'm glad we have you working with us." Well that just made me smile so big I thought my face would split, I was so happy.
Between the two, though, it would be hard to pick which compliment I really liked best ... I mean it's nice to hear that your client thinks you're a smart attorney, and appreciates you and the work you do ... but it's super, super nice to know that you have good hair, and that other people notice and think it's pretty :D
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Holy rabbit fuck, I'm embarrassed...
I've been without internet at home for about 5 or 6 days now. It has sucked.
I finally got an appointment with the cable company to come out and see if they could fix it. The appointment was for "somewhere between 3 pm and 5 pm" today.
I left work early, got home about 2:30. Meant to straighten up the house a little bit before he got here, especially the area where I knew he'd be mostly, my upstairs study, where the computer is. But he knocked on the door at like 2:35. So forget the straightening.
I let him in. Nice young quiet clean-cut guy. Showed him upstairs to the computer. Apologized for the mess. "No problem" he said. He sat down at the computer to go to work figuring it out.
And that's when I saw it.
My rabbit vibrator, standing up on the side of my desk.
"Oh holy fuck," I thought.
What do you do in that situation? As I stared wide-eyed into the room from the doorway, completely mortified, I thought about the options: do I walk over there and pick it up and move it? Or does that just draw too much attention to it? Maybe he hasn't noticed it? Has he noticed it?
He worked silently on the computer modem. After what felt like forever, he said I might need a new modem, but first he wanted to go outside and check the cable box, where the cable comes in. He asked me where it was. I told him. He said I'll go check it, then I'll be right back.
As soon as he walked outside I grabbed my vibrator from off the desk and threw it in my bedroom and shut that door.
He came back about 5 minutes later. He walked upstairs, checked the modem one more time. Said "yep, you need a new modem." He went about unplugging the old one and plugging in the new one. Still quiet otherwise. He called a guy on his walkie-talkie, and said he was ready to switch out the modem. And then we waited.
And then that's when he looked up at me, looked me straight in the face and grinned and said "so, just to mess with you a little bit ... what'd you do with your toy?", and nodded his head towards the place on the desk where the rabbit had been.
Oh. My. God. I could have died of embarrassment right there on the spot. I just busted loose with a big case of the giggles, my face turning bright red, my head shaking side to side ... "no ... oh, no," was all I managed to say between fits of humiliated laughter. "It had lots of buttons. Must have lots of different speeds," he said, smiling. More embarrassed laughter from me, more "oh, no ... no, no, no," refusing to look in his face, blushing hard.
He turned back to the computer, grinning, and checked the lights on the modem. "Should be working now. Come see if you can get on the internet."
He stood up and walked off to the side to give me room. I walked over and sat down in the chair where he'd been and looked at the computer and grabbed the mouse and clicked to log on.
And saw what had been on the computer screen the whole time he'd been sitting there: a pornographic story that I had saved as a word document once, and that I had been reading this morning as I masturbated before work.
Oh, God.
"Yep, it's working," I told him. "Thanks."
"My pleasure," he said, still with that enormous grin.
As I was walking him downstairs and towards the front door, he said one last thing to me: "You know, you wouldn't believe what we see going into people's houses."
"Worse than coming into mine?" I asked him.
"Let's just say, some people let you in, then go right back to what they were doing when you knocked on the door," he said. "They don't even care you're there. But hey, more power to 'em."
More embarrassed laughter from me as I open the door for him to leave.
And with one more final look over his shoulder, looking directly in my eyes, his eyes dancing and teasing with unleashed laughter, he said "you have a good rest of the afternoon, now."
I didn't bother to try to let him know, btw, that he had not actually interrupted me in the middle of masturbating to written porn with my rabbit vibrator when he knocked on the door at 2:35 pm instead of "somewhere between 3 pm and 5 pm," that actually the porn on the computer screen and the rabbit on the desk were just where I had left them this morning when I finished and realized I needed to shake a leg and get in the shower if I was going to be on time for work. I really don't think it would have made a difference what time I'd been doing it though ... when you're busted, you're busted.
- - p.s.
Just before writing this post, I wrote an email to my friend Mike, told him what had just happened. The following exchange took place:
Mike: dude, that's nuts. only you.
Sadielady: i'm telling you. between this and the house-painter who caught me masturbating on my lunch break, i tell you what ... i'm like a lightning rod for getting caught in an embarrassing way and being exposed as a horny single female sex freak.
Mike: you shoulda just seduced him
Sadielady: dude, don't think the thought didn't cross my mind....
God, I need to get laid.
I finally got an appointment with the cable company to come out and see if they could fix it. The appointment was for "somewhere between 3 pm and 5 pm" today.
I left work early, got home about 2:30. Meant to straighten up the house a little bit before he got here, especially the area where I knew he'd be mostly, my upstairs study, where the computer is. But he knocked on the door at like 2:35. So forget the straightening.
I let him in. Nice young quiet clean-cut guy. Showed him upstairs to the computer. Apologized for the mess. "No problem" he said. He sat down at the computer to go to work figuring it out.
And that's when I saw it.
My rabbit vibrator, standing up on the side of my desk.
"Oh holy fuck," I thought.
What do you do in that situation? As I stared wide-eyed into the room from the doorway, completely mortified, I thought about the options: do I walk over there and pick it up and move it? Or does that just draw too much attention to it? Maybe he hasn't noticed it? Has he noticed it?
He worked silently on the computer modem. After what felt like forever, he said I might need a new modem, but first he wanted to go outside and check the cable box, where the cable comes in. He asked me where it was. I told him. He said I'll go check it, then I'll be right back.
As soon as he walked outside I grabbed my vibrator from off the desk and threw it in my bedroom and shut that door.
He came back about 5 minutes later. He walked upstairs, checked the modem one more time. Said "yep, you need a new modem." He went about unplugging the old one and plugging in the new one. Still quiet otherwise. He called a guy on his walkie-talkie, and said he was ready to switch out the modem. And then we waited.
And then that's when he looked up at me, looked me straight in the face and grinned and said "so, just to mess with you a little bit ... what'd you do with your toy?", and nodded his head towards the place on the desk where the rabbit had been.
Oh. My. God. I could have died of embarrassment right there on the spot. I just busted loose with a big case of the giggles, my face turning bright red, my head shaking side to side ... "no ... oh, no," was all I managed to say between fits of humiliated laughter. "It had lots of buttons. Must have lots of different speeds," he said, smiling. More embarrassed laughter from me, more "oh, no ... no, no, no," refusing to look in his face, blushing hard.
He turned back to the computer, grinning, and checked the lights on the modem. "Should be working now. Come see if you can get on the internet."
He stood up and walked off to the side to give me room. I walked over and sat down in the chair where he'd been and looked at the computer and grabbed the mouse and clicked to log on.
And saw what had been on the computer screen the whole time he'd been sitting there: a pornographic story that I had saved as a word document once, and that I had been reading this morning as I masturbated before work.
Oh, God.
"Yep, it's working," I told him. "Thanks."
"My pleasure," he said, still with that enormous grin.
As I was walking him downstairs and towards the front door, he said one last thing to me: "You know, you wouldn't believe what we see going into people's houses."
"Worse than coming into mine?" I asked him.
"Let's just say, some people let you in, then go right back to what they were doing when you knocked on the door," he said. "They don't even care you're there. But hey, more power to 'em."
More embarrassed laughter from me as I open the door for him to leave.
And with one more final look over his shoulder, looking directly in my eyes, his eyes dancing and teasing with unleashed laughter, he said "you have a good rest of the afternoon, now."
I didn't bother to try to let him know, btw, that he had not actually interrupted me in the middle of masturbating to written porn with my rabbit vibrator when he knocked on the door at 2:35 pm instead of "somewhere between 3 pm and 5 pm," that actually the porn on the computer screen and the rabbit on the desk were just where I had left them this morning when I finished and realized I needed to shake a leg and get in the shower if I was going to be on time for work. I really don't think it would have made a difference what time I'd been doing it though ... when you're busted, you're busted.
- - p.s.
Just before writing this post, I wrote an email to my friend Mike, told him what had just happened. The following exchange took place:
Mike: dude, that's nuts. only you.
Sadielady: i'm telling you. between this and the house-painter who caught me masturbating on my lunch break, i tell you what ... i'm like a lightning rod for getting caught in an embarrassing way and being exposed as a horny single female sex freak.
Mike: you shoulda just seduced him
Sadielady: dude, don't think the thought didn't cross my mind....
God, I need to get laid.
Monday, February 18, 2008
ARGH!!
I'm trying to hang pictures in my office this afternoon. My newly enlarged office with the freshly painted, bare walls.
So far I have broken the glass in a big new frame I bought earlier today for a big new print, I have cut my pinky finger and one of my toes on tiny shards of broken glass during the process of trying to clean that shit up, I have gouged a hole in my thumb with a pair of scissors trying to pry up the little tiny tabs that hold the back of another new frame in place, a process that took five damn minutes, then spent another ten damn minutes trying to get the damn print in the damn frame and get the damn tabs to press back down to hold it in place, only to then realize that the hook from which you hang the picture on the wall is on the bottom of the back of the framed print, meaning I put the fucking print in upside down.
Argh, I'm ready to give up, and I still don't have a fucking thing on the wall!!!
So far I have broken the glass in a big new frame I bought earlier today for a big new print, I have cut my pinky finger and one of my toes on tiny shards of broken glass during the process of trying to clean that shit up, I have gouged a hole in my thumb with a pair of scissors trying to pry up the little tiny tabs that hold the back of another new frame in place, a process that took five damn minutes, then spent another ten damn minutes trying to get the damn print in the damn frame and get the damn tabs to press back down to hold it in place, only to then realize that the hook from which you hang the picture on the wall is on the bottom of the back of the framed print, meaning I put the fucking print in upside down.
Argh, I'm ready to give up, and I still don't have a fucking thing on the wall!!!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Who am I, Scarlett O'Fucking Hara? What's going on here?
So tonight I talked on the phone with another eharmony match. Fourth match I've actually spoken with on the phone so far; only the second one I've spoken with so far who lives in the same city I live in. (See, I knew there just weren't enough eligible guys here I'd actually have stuff in common with. I think this proves it.)
Anyway, he was very friendly. And he asked if I wanted to get together, just casually, maybe over a beer after work one evening, to talk more. Sounded perfect to me: casual, alcohol, after work, just to continue the conversation, not so much a date-date but just more talking, only in person and while drinking. Perfect.
The funny thing, that occurred to me about halfway through our conversation though, was how I was talking to him. The way I was talking. As in, my southern accent. Which I don't really have much of; in fact, my mom has always said "my two girls learned to lose their southern accents when they went off to school; I'm so proud of them for not sounding as dumb as I do." (That's my mom. Not a dumb woman, not by far ... but says stuff like that, thinks my sister and I sound smarter than she does b/c she has more of a southern accent than we do, and she's glad for that. I wouldn't mind having her accent one bit though; it's kinda neat, I think.) Anyway, I don't know if my mom has it right in that I lost my accent (or most of it) when I went off to college, whether because it just happened that way or because I went to college with so many people from other parts of the country and so wasn't hearing it as much; or maybe it just started that way, and then when I went to law school, and especially as I've been a practicing attorney, I've just cultivated more of a particular sound, that's not what I grew up with, in my voice, to sound more professional; who knows.
But tonight, on the phone, I was talking to a guy with a real, real Southern voice. And it was the kind of conversation where I was feeling social and feeling like I was trying to be and hoping I was being real friendly and interesting, and interested, or what have you. And so I guess that's why it was that, at some point in the conversation, I heard myself talking and thought to myself: "what the hell is going on here? Are you hearing yourself? Miss Southern Belle, with her accent going full force? Who are you, Scarlett O'Fucking Hara, trying to charm this guy with your thick southern accent, your words spilling from your mouth like honey?" Man, I don't know where that came from.
And then, of course, the other thing though ... when we were trying to figure out when would be a good night to try to get together, and we were counting out a few possibilities, then he mentioned maybe tomorrow, if he can get out of some other plans, "or Thursday," he said, "... of course, that's Valentine's Day." And I guess that's where Scarlett disappeared from my personality, because I immediately and emphatically nixed that idea; "oh, no ... no no no," I said; "I don't think it's ever a good idea for two people to have a first date, or whatever, on Valentine's Day. It's just, I don't know ... bad karma or something. So, no; let's just rule Thursday out right now." He laughed ... it sounded like a very relieved laugh ... and said "oh, good." So, we'll see what happens. It'll be casual, not really date-date-ish, just a beer after work ... and it definitely won't be on Valentine's Day.
By the way, when I told my friend Mike about this conversation earlier tonight, he said "well it sounds promising...but if it doesnt work out, you'll be fine...after all, tomorrow is another day." I mention this because I stuck my tongue out at him in return, and he was all "oh come on, that was funny." Yeah, yeah ... funny boy. :P
Anyway, he was very friendly. And he asked if I wanted to get together, just casually, maybe over a beer after work one evening, to talk more. Sounded perfect to me: casual, alcohol, after work, just to continue the conversation, not so much a date-date but just more talking, only in person and while drinking. Perfect.
The funny thing, that occurred to me about halfway through our conversation though, was how I was talking to him. The way I was talking. As in, my southern accent. Which I don't really have much of; in fact, my mom has always said "my two girls learned to lose their southern accents when they went off to school; I'm so proud of them for not sounding as dumb as I do." (That's my mom. Not a dumb woman, not by far ... but says stuff like that, thinks my sister and I sound smarter than she does b/c she has more of a southern accent than we do, and she's glad for that. I wouldn't mind having her accent one bit though; it's kinda neat, I think.) Anyway, I don't know if my mom has it right in that I lost my accent (or most of it) when I went off to college, whether because it just happened that way or because I went to college with so many people from other parts of the country and so wasn't hearing it as much; or maybe it just started that way, and then when I went to law school, and especially as I've been a practicing attorney, I've just cultivated more of a particular sound, that's not what I grew up with, in my voice, to sound more professional; who knows.
But tonight, on the phone, I was talking to a guy with a real, real Southern voice. And it was the kind of conversation where I was feeling social and feeling like I was trying to be and hoping I was being real friendly and interesting, and interested, or what have you. And so I guess that's why it was that, at some point in the conversation, I heard myself talking and thought to myself: "what the hell is going on here? Are you hearing yourself? Miss Southern Belle, with her accent going full force? Who are you, Scarlett O'Fucking Hara, trying to charm this guy with your thick southern accent, your words spilling from your mouth like honey?" Man, I don't know where that came from.
And then, of course, the other thing though ... when we were trying to figure out when would be a good night to try to get together, and we were counting out a few possibilities, then he mentioned maybe tomorrow, if he can get out of some other plans, "or Thursday," he said, "... of course, that's Valentine's Day." And I guess that's where Scarlett disappeared from my personality, because I immediately and emphatically nixed that idea; "oh, no ... no no no," I said; "I don't think it's ever a good idea for two people to have a first date, or whatever, on Valentine's Day. It's just, I don't know ... bad karma or something. So, no; let's just rule Thursday out right now." He laughed ... it sounded like a very relieved laugh ... and said "oh, good." So, we'll see what happens. It'll be casual, not really date-date-ish, just a beer after work ... and it definitely won't be on Valentine's Day.
By the way, when I told my friend Mike about this conversation earlier tonight, he said "well it sounds promising...but if it doesnt work out, you'll be fine...after all, tomorrow is another day." I mention this because I stuck my tongue out at him in return, and he was all "oh come on, that was funny." Yeah, yeah ... funny boy. :P
Monday, February 11, 2008
Revisiting the Oral Argument
Granted our chief justice is kind of mannish. A little like Dustin Hoffman in drag as Tootsie, only not quite as pretty.
But I think I probably screwed up when, in the middle of my oral argument, she pounded me with another tough question, which I began by answering "no, sir."
Whoops. I did try to recover though; I recognized the mistake right away, inwardly cringed hard, but kept going with my brilliant (ok, maybe not brilliant, but pretty good) answer, in my best most serious and professional and articulate and intelligent-sounding voice, ... and then followed it up with a whispered "no ma'am." Which I don't think anyone caught, and didn't mean to say out loud anyway, it just slipped. If she did hear that whisper though, I hope she realized I was just trying to let her know I was aware of her gender and trying to make up for my mistake.
Yeah, this post will probably get deleted pretty soon ... I think it's funny right now as I'm writing it, but later tonight I'll probably have a hideous nightmare that it circulates throughout my legal community with my real name attached to it and I get disbarred by the all-powerful woman herself, and I'll race to the computer to delete delete delete. For now, though, I think I'll just have another cocktail.
But I think I probably screwed up when, in the middle of my oral argument, she pounded me with another tough question, which I began by answering "no, sir."
Whoops. I did try to recover though; I recognized the mistake right away, inwardly cringed hard, but kept going with my brilliant (ok, maybe not brilliant, but pretty good) answer, in my best most serious and professional and articulate and intelligent-sounding voice, ... and then followed it up with a whispered "no ma'am." Which I don't think anyone caught, and didn't mean to say out loud anyway, it just slipped. If she did hear that whisper though, I hope she realized I was just trying to let her know I was aware of her gender and trying to make up for my mistake.
Yeah, this post will probably get deleted pretty soon ... I think it's funny right now as I'm writing it, but later tonight I'll probably have a hideous nightmare that it circulates throughout my legal community with my real name attached to it and I get disbarred by the all-powerful woman herself, and I'll race to the computer to delete delete delete. For now, though, I think I'll just have another cocktail.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Timing is everything.
And sometimes mine sucks.
Back in early January I met a guy through eharmony who I was hitting it off with pretty well. He had asked to set up a phone call through the eharmony secure line thing, where you don't know each other's phone numbers; one of you calls in to eharmony to initiate, and the dating site then calls the other at their number and connects you. So we talked that way on our first conversation, and really hit it off. And then we exchanged home phone numbers, and so the second time we talked he called me at home.
Well at the end of our second converation, my phone started beeping, letting me know that the battery was dying. Now I actually have two cordless phones at home, but at the time I only knew where the one was ... I had lost the other sometime the previous week, knew it was in the house somewhere, but also knew the battery had died b/c it no longer rang when the other one rang, and I hadn't yet gotten industrious enough to look hard for it. So anyway, the phone I'm on with this guy starts beeping. I tell him that means it's losing power, and we might get cut off soon. He says no problem, he should probably be going anyway; but could he call me on my cell phone sometime that weekend (I was getting ready to go out of town for the weekend, had already told him that.) I said sure, let me give you the number. It's ...
... and that's when the fucking phone cut off on me. Just before I could give him my cell phone number. I mean, how totally fucking classic is that. I felt bad, too. I thought about my cell phone immediately; but, because this is the way I am (bad about doing things like charging up phone batteries), of course my cell phone battery was dead as well... had been for a full day at that point, and I had yet to charge it back up. So I ran around the house for about 5 minutes, searching for the cell phone charger, hoping to find it so I could plug it in and call him back on my cell phone to give him that number and say a proper goodbye and apologize for cutting off on him like that. But of course, I couldn't find it. And at this point it was almost midnight anyway, we'd been talking kinda late that night. So finally I gave up on the idea of being able to call him back that night, and instead got online and sent him an email. "So sorry my phone cut off on me like that; that totally epitomizes the role of timing in my life, btw. Anyway, here's my cell phone number, call if you get a chance this weekend:" and then I gave him my number. He replied, laughing, said "for a second there I thought you were just trying to get out of giving me your number."
But that wasn't it ... I wasn't trying to get out of anything; I swear, that's just the way things seem to go for me sometimes. Like that first time I ever had phone sex, how I fell out the chair ... that kind of shit happens to me all the time. (For anyone who doesn't remember/never read that story, I think I'll post it again below ... it was pretty fucking funny, good enough to repost I think.)
Well, I've met a few more interesting matches lately, since the time of that first lunch guy (who didn't work out in the end, btw.) Hopefully I'll find someone one of these days who I can have some good times with; that would be refreshingly fun. Oh, btw, I did actually give one of my fairly recent matches a link to my blog ... I know, that was probably a crazy decision, but what the heck, he's fun to talk to, and since he's stationed overseas in the military I figure there's no chance of him stalking me and also he might enjoy a laugh ... I think he's been enjoying checking it out ... so shout out to you, my army man, and hope you enjoy this story too:
- - -
The first time I ever had phone sex, I was pretty shy about it. It was with a guy I was friends with, but not more than friends with (well, not yet, anyway). We flirted with each other a lot. And we had begun having racy conversations over IM. This one night, we were IM'ing, and he typed, "I'm going to call you. I want to hear your voice, I want to do this over the phone." My phone started ringing. "Pick up," he typed. I was so nervous. When I picked up the phone, I could hardly speak. His voice was different; huskier than it usually was. A little shaky, too. Sexually charged. He didn't miss a beat in the conversation though. He told me things, the things he wanted to do to me. And he asked me if I was touching myself, which I was. Finally I worked up the nerve to speak. It was difficult at first; even though I had been so free with him, so bold, over IM, hearing his voice, and speaking my words out loud to him, made me suddenly shy. But the conversation was so heated, and his sexy deep voice, so filled with lust, set me on fire. I leaned back farther in my chair, slid my ass down to the edge of the seat, propped my feet up on an open desk drawer, and spread my legs wider, to give me better access. He kept talking, and I was moaning. I arched my back, leaned back farther, farther, farther . . .
. . . and then I fucking fell over backwards in my chair. "AAAACK!!" I screamed, landing awkwardly on my back, trying to break my fall a bit with my arms, the phone dropping to to the floor and skidding to the opposite side of the room. "Ouch!" I jumped up, darted across the room, scrambling for the phone, which was spinning around in circles on the wooden floor. I picked it up. "What the fuck was that?" he said. "Um, so does it make me less sexy that I just totally fell over backwards in my chair and dropped the phone?" At which point he started laughing hysterically. I couldn't help it, I did too. I mean, talk about smooth moves. There I was trying to be so suave and self-assured and sexually confident, not to mention wildly hot, having phone sex with this incredible guy, and yet my natural klutziness kicked in and ruined that whole image I thought I had going. True to life. But laughter during sex can be great, too. And our laughter was great, and big. But it didn't kill the mood, thank goodness. We were both still turned on as hell. So I just moved over to the couch: a much sturdier and safer piece of furniture for sexual maneuvering. And then my phone lover got me off, and then I got him off.
All in all, despite the incredibly comedic moment where I almost broke my back falling out the chair, it was pretty fucking hot.
Back in early January I met a guy through eharmony who I was hitting it off with pretty well. He had asked to set up a phone call through the eharmony secure line thing, where you don't know each other's phone numbers; one of you calls in to eharmony to initiate, and the dating site then calls the other at their number and connects you. So we talked that way on our first conversation, and really hit it off. And then we exchanged home phone numbers, and so the second time we talked he called me at home.
Well at the end of our second converation, my phone started beeping, letting me know that the battery was dying. Now I actually have two cordless phones at home, but at the time I only knew where the one was ... I had lost the other sometime the previous week, knew it was in the house somewhere, but also knew the battery had died b/c it no longer rang when the other one rang, and I hadn't yet gotten industrious enough to look hard for it. So anyway, the phone I'm on with this guy starts beeping. I tell him that means it's losing power, and we might get cut off soon. He says no problem, he should probably be going anyway; but could he call me on my cell phone sometime that weekend (I was getting ready to go out of town for the weekend, had already told him that.) I said sure, let me give you the number. It's ...
... and that's when the fucking phone cut off on me. Just before I could give him my cell phone number. I mean, how totally fucking classic is that. I felt bad, too. I thought about my cell phone immediately; but, because this is the way I am (bad about doing things like charging up phone batteries), of course my cell phone battery was dead as well... had been for a full day at that point, and I had yet to charge it back up. So I ran around the house for about 5 minutes, searching for the cell phone charger, hoping to find it so I could plug it in and call him back on my cell phone to give him that number and say a proper goodbye and apologize for cutting off on him like that. But of course, I couldn't find it. And at this point it was almost midnight anyway, we'd been talking kinda late that night. So finally I gave up on the idea of being able to call him back that night, and instead got online and sent him an email. "So sorry my phone cut off on me like that; that totally epitomizes the role of timing in my life, btw. Anyway, here's my cell phone number, call if you get a chance this weekend:" and then I gave him my number. He replied, laughing, said "for a second there I thought you were just trying to get out of giving me your number."
But that wasn't it ... I wasn't trying to get out of anything; I swear, that's just the way things seem to go for me sometimes. Like that first time I ever had phone sex, how I fell out the chair ... that kind of shit happens to me all the time. (For anyone who doesn't remember/never read that story, I think I'll post it again below ... it was pretty fucking funny, good enough to repost I think.)
Well, I've met a few more interesting matches lately, since the time of that first lunch guy (who didn't work out in the end, btw.) Hopefully I'll find someone one of these days who I can have some good times with; that would be refreshingly fun. Oh, btw, I did actually give one of my fairly recent matches a link to my blog ... I know, that was probably a crazy decision, but what the heck, he's fun to talk to, and since he's stationed overseas in the military I figure there's no chance of him stalking me and also he might enjoy a laugh ... I think he's been enjoying checking it out ... so shout out to you, my army man, and hope you enjoy this story too:
- - -
The first time I ever had phone sex, I was pretty shy about it. It was with a guy I was friends with, but not more than friends with (well, not yet, anyway). We flirted with each other a lot. And we had begun having racy conversations over IM. This one night, we were IM'ing, and he typed, "I'm going to call you. I want to hear your voice, I want to do this over the phone." My phone started ringing. "Pick up," he typed. I was so nervous. When I picked up the phone, I could hardly speak. His voice was different; huskier than it usually was. A little shaky, too. Sexually charged. He didn't miss a beat in the conversation though. He told me things, the things he wanted to do to me. And he asked me if I was touching myself, which I was. Finally I worked up the nerve to speak. It was difficult at first; even though I had been so free with him, so bold, over IM, hearing his voice, and speaking my words out loud to him, made me suddenly shy. But the conversation was so heated, and his sexy deep voice, so filled with lust, set me on fire. I leaned back farther in my chair, slid my ass down to the edge of the seat, propped my feet up on an open desk drawer, and spread my legs wider, to give me better access. He kept talking, and I was moaning. I arched my back, leaned back farther, farther, farther . . .
. . . and then I fucking fell over backwards in my chair. "AAAACK!!" I screamed, landing awkwardly on my back, trying to break my fall a bit with my arms, the phone dropping to to the floor and skidding to the opposite side of the room. "Ouch!" I jumped up, darted across the room, scrambling for the phone, which was spinning around in circles on the wooden floor. I picked it up. "What the fuck was that?" he said. "Um, so does it make me less sexy that I just totally fell over backwards in my chair and dropped the phone?" At which point he started laughing hysterically. I couldn't help it, I did too. I mean, talk about smooth moves. There I was trying to be so suave and self-assured and sexually confident, not to mention wildly hot, having phone sex with this incredible guy, and yet my natural klutziness kicked in and ruined that whole image I thought I had going. True to life. But laughter during sex can be great, too. And our laughter was great, and big. But it didn't kill the mood, thank goodness. We were both still turned on as hell. So I just moved over to the couch: a much sturdier and safer piece of furniture for sexual maneuvering. And then my phone lover got me off, and then I got him off.
All in all, despite the incredibly comedic moment where I almost broke my back falling out the chair, it was pretty fucking hot.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Talk about a joystick...
I'm thinking about taking a trip to Israel sometime soon.
It may or may not have anything to do with this article that I just read.
It may or may not have anything to do with this article that I just read.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
CREAMED
No, I'm not talking about the state of my panties ... I'm talking about what happened to me at oral argument before the Supreme Court this morning.
I got creamed by those five people in their long black robes up on their high bench. I mean, I walked out of that court this morning craning my neck around to try to catch a view of my backside to see if I really did have a second asshole after that argument ... cause it sure as hell felt like they ripped me a new one in there.
Seriously, what good is it to prepare and practice an oral argument, when all you really end up getting to say that you actually planned to say is "May it please the Court ...." After that, mid-way through my first damn sentence, I was interrupted by the chief justice, who esssentially said "Ms. SadieLady, excuse me, we KNOW that already. We don't need you to tell us that. Tell us why such and such instead." And I tell you, I had cut all the superfluous shit out of my argument already, by the 100th practice of it ... I had it down to key points, concise sentences with particular purposes ... or so I thought this morning, anyway. And once I got hit with that first interruption, all I was able to do after that was just answer specific questions, with one or two sentence answers, if I was lucky, before I was cut off again with essentially a "yeah yeah, I know that's what you want us to THINK, but WHERE is there any LAW that ALLOWS that?" And if my answer to that question began with "Section [xyz] of the [such and such Act] in the Code of Laws permits ... " I swear to fucking God I'd get interrupted before I got to say WHY I contended that THAT was the actual LAW that ALLOWED it ... cut the fuck off, again and again and again. My only actual answer that seemed to be good enough for them was my very last one ... which I would like to take credit for, being able to say I ended on a good high articulate note, but I think the only reason I ended with that impression is because they just decided they were done listening to me and questioning me at that point and so for that reason and that reason only they didn't cut to shreds that particular answer.
Argh. Well, at least it was tough on the other lawyers who presented argument this morning too; I wasn't the only one walking out of there with a new appreciation of the word humility. And at least it's over now, too ... and at least I can say now, "I've argued before my state's highest court." Though I will be conveniently leaving out the part about how hard I got pounded doing it. I mean, I know I've been WANTING a good hard pounding for a while now, but that wasn't the kind I meant.
Anyone out there wanna go get a big stiff drink with me? Let me know. Cause I'll be having one before this afternoon is too far over.
I got creamed by those five people in their long black robes up on their high bench. I mean, I walked out of that court this morning craning my neck around to try to catch a view of my backside to see if I really did have a second asshole after that argument ... cause it sure as hell felt like they ripped me a new one in there.
Seriously, what good is it to prepare and practice an oral argument, when all you really end up getting to say that you actually planned to say is "May it please the Court ...." After that, mid-way through my first damn sentence, I was interrupted by the chief justice, who esssentially said "Ms. SadieLady, excuse me, we KNOW that already. We don't need you to tell us that. Tell us why such and such instead." And I tell you, I had cut all the superfluous shit out of my argument already, by the 100th practice of it ... I had it down to key points, concise sentences with particular purposes ... or so I thought this morning, anyway. And once I got hit with that first interruption, all I was able to do after that was just answer specific questions, with one or two sentence answers, if I was lucky, before I was cut off again with essentially a "yeah yeah, I know that's what you want us to THINK, but WHERE is there any LAW that ALLOWS that?" And if my answer to that question began with "Section [xyz] of the [such and such Act] in the Code of Laws permits ... " I swear to fucking God I'd get interrupted before I got to say WHY I contended that THAT was the actual LAW that ALLOWED it ... cut the fuck off, again and again and again. My only actual answer that seemed to be good enough for them was my very last one ... which I would like to take credit for, being able to say I ended on a good high articulate note, but I think the only reason I ended with that impression is because they just decided they were done listening to me and questioning me at that point and so for that reason and that reason only they didn't cut to shreds that particular answer.
Argh. Well, at least it was tough on the other lawyers who presented argument this morning too; I wasn't the only one walking out of there with a new appreciation of the word humility. And at least it's over now, too ... and at least I can say now, "I've argued before my state's highest court." Though I will be conveniently leaving out the part about how hard I got pounded doing it. I mean, I know I've been WANTING a good hard pounding for a while now, but that wasn't the kind I meant.
Anyone out there wanna go get a big stiff drink with me? Let me know. Cause I'll be having one before this afternoon is too far over.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Tracking my progress: preparing for oral argument.
As part of my procrastination technique in preparing for Thursday morning's appellate argument, I've decided that I'm going to track my progress in this blog entry.
Monday , 12:44 pm: Have arranged to have two attorneys (my 2 bosses) meet with me tomorrow afternoon to watch me rehearse my oral argument (which I have not yet prepared) and give me feedback.
Monday, 12:55 pm: Have begun my outline of my oral argument by setting up a new WORD document listing each of the 6 issues on appeal.
Yep, that's how far I've gotten. (Now, I've already written a brief in this case, mind you - - so I've already figured out what my arguments actually are, in writing, for the brief. Thing is, now I just have to figure out the best way to argue them out loud, how to divide up my limited amount of time between the 6 issues, and try to anticipate questions that are likely to be hurled at me that I haven't adequately addressed in my written brief regarding each of these issues. That's where my handy-dandy outline comes in.)
Monday, 12:58 pm: Take a coffee break.
Monday, 1:07 pm: Spent the last several minutes admiring my new ring (present I bought for myself this weekend for no particular reason) and filing my nails. Also trying to figure out where the glitter on the palms of my hands came from. Hmm.
Monday, 1:25 pm: Finally figured out who that was leaving me the strange message last Thursday morning. It was the dad of another attorney in my office. She has an appellate brief due next week that she's working on. So, mystery solved. (And yeah, ok, that was totally just an excuse to procrastinate more, tracking down who that message was for...)
Monday, 1:51 pm: Just got off the phone with co-counsel. We came up with a game plan for dividing up the issues and our time (I'm a co-defendant, have to split my argument time w/ the co-defendant). Feel better now that I have a game plan. Just hope it doesn't go to hell once I start arguing, by the justices interrupting and asking all sorts of questions that throw me for a loop and get me off track.
Monday, 2:27 pm: Shit, I just realized, I need 5 more CLE hours for this year ... have to fit them in by the end of this month ... fuck.
Monday, 2:37 pm: I seem to be making an inordinate number of trips to the bathroom to pee today. I guess it's all the coffee and diet coke I've been drinking.
Monday, 2:42 pm: My breasts look really nice in this top I'm wearing today. Too bad former law clerk doesn't work here anymore. He'd totally be giving me a cleavage compliment today if he did.
Monday, 4:00 pm: I think I've got one of the issues down. I've also made a list of things I need to do when I get home tonight. Including stopping on the way home to buy kitty litter.
Tuesday, 2:15 am: After finally buckling down this afternoon and getting a little bit of real work done at the office, then knocking off for the evening and sending off some communications to potential eharmony matches at home, and watching a couple reruns of Will and Grace on tv, I thought I'd be getting some good sleep so I could wake up fresh in the morning to start again ... but no, I guess I had too much coffee today, and I guess I'm too keyed up about this argument, especially since, let's face it, I still didn't have anything really written out to say. But here's where I remember that, whether it's a blessing or a curse, I sometimes am able to actually do my best, clearest work at odd hours late late late at night ... after planning and outlining earlier today, I finally started actually typing out an argument that I can practice and rehearse, and man but it's starting to take shape and make sense. One more cup of coffee and I might be able to finish my first draft in the next hour or two ... of course, I'll be dead on my feet by the time I have to rehearse it for my bosses tomorrow afternoon, but that's my stupid fault for being a procrastinator during the day when most people are actually working, and then doing my best work after midnight, after things have had a chance to muddle around in my head for a while, and after the adrenaline finally pushes me to get it all down on paper, when most normal people are sleeping. I repeat this same damn cycle whenever I have something really really huge due; when the fuck will I learn.
Tuesday, 6:47 am: Just got back from my near-daily run to the College Mart. (Note to self: I go there way too much. Convenient for a big gulp of coffee in the morning and the odd groceries when I'm too lazy to go to the grocery store for just one particular thing; probably not a good sign that every employee there knows me and can practically start ringing up my purchases as soon as I walk in the door.) Got a big gulp of coffee, a cold Slim Fast shake for breakfast, a bottle of water, and a pack of Marlboro Lights (another note to self: Must. Stop. Smoking. I say that every damn time I buy a new pack. Dammit.) Didn't sleep at all last night. Did get some work done on the argument; still couldn't sleep after though. Am now cleaning out all my old matches that didn't catch my interest and have been filling up my inbox from eharmony. Don't want to see more than 100 damn people on there at any particular time if I can help it ... gets to feeling too burdensome to sort through and see if there are any I think I might actually like when there's that many. God I'll do anything to keep from working sometimes. Going to be feeling goofy by the end of the day today, I can tell already. Probably doesn't bode well for my rehearsal before the bosses later this afternoon.
Tuesday, 6:57 am: Fuck me hard, just realized I forgot to buy kitty litter on the way home from work last night, and I TOTALLY could've picked some up just now at the College Mart but didn't think about it while I was there. Damn, and that litter box isn't looking to attractive right now. Argh.
Tuesday, 7:01 am: Time to turn on the Today Show. Man, John McCain looks pretty creepy sometimes when he tries to smile for the camera.
Tuesday, 7:45 am: I just realized it's Fat Tuesday today! Happy Mardi Gras! Laissez les bon temps rouler! Allons jouer la music, allons dancer! Cher bébé ... mon coeur appartient à Nouvelle-Orléans ....
Tuesday, 9:49 am: My new office furniture has just been delivered - woohoo!!! Not only do I NOT work in a closet anymore, I now have the biggest (or maybe second-biggest, after the big boss man's) attorney office here, after they knocked down a wall and gave me more room ... and now my newly enlarged office has not just my desk and desk chair and old metal filing cabinet and old wooden bookshelf, but also a nice new round conference table with 4 matching chairs around it, and a nice new credenza with lateral filing drawers, all with a matching pretty cherry finish that matches my desk ... I can sit here at my desk and work on my computer for a bit, then get up and go sit at one of the chairs at my new conference table and work over there for a bit, then move back to the desk when I get bored with that, and so on and so on ... I can spread shit out ... I'm no longer all cramped with no room to move, I can stretch out and walk around and sit in different chairs and work at different tables ... happy happy joy joy ....
Tuesday, 11:29 am: I just realized I've been whistling the Jack Johnson tune "If I Had Eyes" while I'm working in my office. I tend to do that, whistle a song over and over again, whenever I am working really hard on some huge project that I'm stressed out about ... it's like a mechanism for keeping the anxiety at bay I think. Anyway, I just realized I was doing it, whistling "Sometimes time doesn't heal, no not at all. ... In or out of love ...." basically that part, over and over again ... and it's probably been getting on the nerves of the lawyer across the hall ... I just got a little self-conscious, wondering how long now I've been whistling it, and whether he's sitting across the hall with these terrible acoustics and thin walls wishing I'd shut up. [If former law clerk still worked here, btw, he would've been knocking on the wall and shooting me sarcastic emails telling me to QUIT IT way before I realized it for myself, btw ... dammit, he was useful in that way. And fun to annoy too b/c frankly whenever he complained I just whistled louder.] [DID YOU SEE THAT, BABY? ANOTHER SHOUT OUT TO YOU!!! God it's just no fucking fun around here anymore without you to here to pick on and annoy, and to pick on and annoy me right back.]
Tuesday, 12:27 pm: Lunchtime. Subway. Yum.
Tuesday, 12:39 pm: I think I ate that roast beef sub too fast. Feel like I might have to go throw up now. Yuck.
Tuesday, 1:17 pm: Ok, my boss ambled into my office a little bit ago, just coming out of a couple all-morning meetings, took a seat at my new conference table, dropped her notebook onto it, and dished about some interesting developments that occurred this morning in her various meetings. (I swear, there's just crazy stuff happening every day it seems. But that's not the point.) Point is, after about 10 minutes or so of chatting, she stretched her legs, sighed, gathered up her notebook, stood to go, ... and then suddenly did a double-take and said real loud "hey, you got new furniture!!!!" Uh, yeah ... that would be the very table and chairs you've been relaxing at for the past 10 minutes, occasionally banging a fist on or gently slapping to emphasize different points of your various stories from the morning; just now noticing? Hehehe. Ah, ha. Ok, comedic break over, back to work ... ah shit, I'm supposed to rehearse my argument to that boss and the big boss man too in about 2 hours, and not only have I not rehearsed it to myself yet, I'm not even finished with the damn first draft yet. Fuckamuckashucka.
Tuesday, 2:02 pm: Dangit, I have an email notification on my private email address telling me that I've received a new email on eharmony from one of my current interesting matches, someone I was emailing with last night ... but I can't freaking log on to eharmony from work, damn those infernal internet-site-blocking-devices on our work computers, so I won't be able to read the email until I get home tonight. Man, I hate knowing something's there like that, waiting to be read, and not being able to read it ... I like instant gratification, I want to read it now! Argh.
Tuesday, 3:49 pm: Any minute now my two bosses will be ready to listen to me practice my oral argument - for the first time ever out loud. Meaning, this rehearsal is going to suck. Hopefully they won't dwell on the fact that I'm not all that prepared if I bombard them with questions seeking advice and constructive criticism and strategy and "how would you do it" talk. Sigh.
Tuesday, 5:34 pm: Whew, first big rehearsal/practice/critique session down, and I have to admit even to myself, it wasn't half bad. And I got very helpful critiques and advice actually, to go back and tweak things, ... I'm beginning to feel some of the panic and anxiety over being prepared enough for this start to ease up; my shoulders feel a little lighter, I think my heartbeat has even slowed down a hair from what it's been the past two days. Thank God for more experienced coworkers who will take time to listen to you and, not just that, but spend time helping you make it better, and making you continue to keep talking out all the major points and boiling them down to more concise points even when you think you've made them concise enough and who make you go back and say stuff on your own again and again without wearing you down or anything but just enough so that each time you say it again it comes out sounding more intelligent and clearer and surer. Seriously, I'm feeling better now; I may complain about the big boss man from time to time, but when it comes to this kind of thing, making the big arguments and presentations before the big courts, I have to admit (and be grateful) that he does know what he's doing, and how to give good pointers and help you make your work better. Okay, now that all that's said ... holy hell, but it must be Miller Time somewhere; Mama needs a cocktail ....
Tuesday, 8:39 pm: Had that cocktail. Now am About. To. Crash. And I mean hard. Several nice eharmony emails from a few different guys waiting on me tonight when I got home, that's something to smile about. Answered a few ... way too tired to do anything else tonight though. About to Sack. Out. (Can't. Seem. to Stop. Writing. Like. This. So tired.)
Wednesday, 12:09 pm: Tweaking, tweaking, tweaking. I go through my argument, tweaking it as I review and study and analyze it. Once finished, I go through my argument again, tweaking it again as I review and study and analyze it more. This is the process of the morning, and it continues.
Thursday, 3:13 am: Jesus, I just woke up from some of the worst nightmare dreams I have ever had in my life. I am only writing this right now because they were so bad, and so vivid, that the second I came a little bit awake enough to realize I was only dreaming, I felt the strongest need ever to pull myself fully awake just so I wouldn't immediately drift back into them ... I needed to shake off that deep sleep enough to become fully awake for a bit only in order to convince my subconscious mind that those were, in fact, only dreams, only nightmares, not real, just so that I don't get sucked back into them again. God, damn, it ... I've always been a vivid dreamer, and I have had a ton of bad dreams before, but for so many reasons that I will not get into right now, those dreams I just woke up from tonight were the absolute worst, most nightmarish, and most scarily real-seeming, I've ever had.
Fuck, this does not bode well for the way this most important morning of argument is going to shape up for me ... perhaps my most important moment/event so far in my career as a lawyer is merely 6 hours and 10 minutes away, and because of a stupid fucking nightmire, I feel shaken to my very core right now ... and am still trying to finish fully waking my body and mind in order to shake its nasty lingering effects as I write this ... God. Damn. It. To. Hell. but I am just a tad freaked out right now ....
Thursday, 3:52 am: Fuck, I just got my period. That means cramps and stuff ... I tell you what, sometimes I do believe in signs and what have you, and between that stupid nightmare and then realizing this just now, I am now REALLY starting to have bad foreboding feelings about how things are going to go later on this morning ... dammit.
Thursday, 3:58 am: well I guess I'm just going to stay up at this point, not risk trying to go back to bed for a little bit more sleep and maybe end up oversleeping the 2 damn alarms I set out of paranoia of doing just that, the way my luck is going just now. Fuck, I'm feeling like my game is thrown before it even starts this morning.... Scheisse.
Thursday, 6:25 am: Just had a super intense, really ultra-sensitive orgasm. Did not intend to spend quite that much time with the rabbit, started 30 minutes ago, but sometimes that's just the way it goes, especially when you're reading Literotica stories as you're doing it. Helped with the cramps too, nicely enough ... and feeling much more relaxed now than I was a couple hours ago after that nightmare and then the stress and initial panic of starting to think this day was off to a terrible start, this most important and stressful day of work. So yeah, good call, masturbation in the early morning. Off to College Mart now for a 20-oz cup of coffee and a can of tuna for the kitties (it's a big day, they deserve a treat too). Then back to practice out loud for about an hour before I hit the shower and start getting dressed for court (bought a new suit for the occasion last night, professional Jones of New York black skirt suit that hits just below the knees, with a cinched-in waist and one-button closure in front with deep v and kinda short length jacket that tops a pencil-thin skirt that hugs the curves of my hips, so I'll look like a sexy professional to boot, which should give me some much-needed confidence this morning ... looks good with my skinny high heels too ... starting to get a little pumped up and excited now that it's so close, can you tell?)
Thursday, 11:47 am: OVER!!! More in my next post ....
Monday , 12:44 pm: Have arranged to have two attorneys (my 2 bosses) meet with me tomorrow afternoon to watch me rehearse my oral argument (which I have not yet prepared) and give me feedback.
Monday, 12:55 pm: Have begun my outline of my oral argument by setting up a new WORD document listing each of the 6 issues on appeal.
Yep, that's how far I've gotten. (Now, I've already written a brief in this case, mind you - - so I've already figured out what my arguments actually are, in writing, for the brief. Thing is, now I just have to figure out the best way to argue them out loud, how to divide up my limited amount of time between the 6 issues, and try to anticipate questions that are likely to be hurled at me that I haven't adequately addressed in my written brief regarding each of these issues. That's where my handy-dandy outline comes in.)
Monday, 12:58 pm: Take a coffee break.
Monday, 1:07 pm: Spent the last several minutes admiring my new ring (present I bought for myself this weekend for no particular reason) and filing my nails. Also trying to figure out where the glitter on the palms of my hands came from. Hmm.
Monday, 1:25 pm: Finally figured out who that was leaving me the strange message last Thursday morning. It was the dad of another attorney in my office. She has an appellate brief due next week that she's working on. So, mystery solved. (And yeah, ok, that was totally just an excuse to procrastinate more, tracking down who that message was for...)
Monday, 1:51 pm: Just got off the phone with co-counsel. We came up with a game plan for dividing up the issues and our time (I'm a co-defendant, have to split my argument time w/ the co-defendant). Feel better now that I have a game plan. Just hope it doesn't go to hell once I start arguing, by the justices interrupting and asking all sorts of questions that throw me for a loop and get me off track.
Monday, 2:27 pm: Shit, I just realized, I need 5 more CLE hours for this year ... have to fit them in by the end of this month ... fuck.
Monday, 2:37 pm: I seem to be making an inordinate number of trips to the bathroom to pee today. I guess it's all the coffee and diet coke I've been drinking.
Monday, 2:42 pm: My breasts look really nice in this top I'm wearing today. Too bad former law clerk doesn't work here anymore. He'd totally be giving me a cleavage compliment today if he did.
Monday, 4:00 pm: I think I've got one of the issues down. I've also made a list of things I need to do when I get home tonight. Including stopping on the way home to buy kitty litter.
Tuesday, 2:15 am: After finally buckling down this afternoon and getting a little bit of real work done at the office, then knocking off for the evening and sending off some communications to potential eharmony matches at home, and watching a couple reruns of Will and Grace on tv, I thought I'd be getting some good sleep so I could wake up fresh in the morning to start again ... but no, I guess I had too much coffee today, and I guess I'm too keyed up about this argument, especially since, let's face it, I still didn't have anything really written out to say. But here's where I remember that, whether it's a blessing or a curse, I sometimes am able to actually do my best, clearest work at odd hours late late late at night ... after planning and outlining earlier today, I finally started actually typing out an argument that I can practice and rehearse, and man but it's starting to take shape and make sense. One more cup of coffee and I might be able to finish my first draft in the next hour or two ... of course, I'll be dead on my feet by the time I have to rehearse it for my bosses tomorrow afternoon, but that's my stupid fault for being a procrastinator during the day when most people are actually working, and then doing my best work after midnight, after things have had a chance to muddle around in my head for a while, and after the adrenaline finally pushes me to get it all down on paper, when most normal people are sleeping. I repeat this same damn cycle whenever I have something really really huge due; when the fuck will I learn.
Tuesday, 6:47 am: Just got back from my near-daily run to the College Mart. (Note to self: I go there way too much. Convenient for a big gulp of coffee in the morning and the odd groceries when I'm too lazy to go to the grocery store for just one particular thing; probably not a good sign that every employee there knows me and can practically start ringing up my purchases as soon as I walk in the door.) Got a big gulp of coffee, a cold Slim Fast shake for breakfast, a bottle of water, and a pack of Marlboro Lights (another note to self: Must. Stop. Smoking. I say that every damn time I buy a new pack. Dammit.) Didn't sleep at all last night. Did get some work done on the argument; still couldn't sleep after though. Am now cleaning out all my old matches that didn't catch my interest and have been filling up my inbox from eharmony. Don't want to see more than 100 damn people on there at any particular time if I can help it ... gets to feeling too burdensome to sort through and see if there are any I think I might actually like when there's that many. God I'll do anything to keep from working sometimes. Going to be feeling goofy by the end of the day today, I can tell already. Probably doesn't bode well for my rehearsal before the bosses later this afternoon.
Tuesday, 6:57 am: Fuck me hard, just realized I forgot to buy kitty litter on the way home from work last night, and I TOTALLY could've picked some up just now at the College Mart but didn't think about it while I was there. Damn, and that litter box isn't looking to attractive right now. Argh.
Tuesday, 7:01 am: Time to turn on the Today Show. Man, John McCain looks pretty creepy sometimes when he tries to smile for the camera.
Tuesday, 7:45 am: I just realized it's Fat Tuesday today! Happy Mardi Gras! Laissez les bon temps rouler! Allons jouer la music, allons dancer! Cher bébé ... mon coeur appartient à Nouvelle-Orléans ....
Tuesday, 9:49 am: My new office furniture has just been delivered - woohoo!!! Not only do I NOT work in a closet anymore, I now have the biggest (or maybe second-biggest, after the big boss man's) attorney office here, after they knocked down a wall and gave me more room ... and now my newly enlarged office has not just my desk and desk chair and old metal filing cabinet and old wooden bookshelf, but also a nice new round conference table with 4 matching chairs around it, and a nice new credenza with lateral filing drawers, all with a matching pretty cherry finish that matches my desk ... I can sit here at my desk and work on my computer for a bit, then get up and go sit at one of the chairs at my new conference table and work over there for a bit, then move back to the desk when I get bored with that, and so on and so on ... I can spread shit out ... I'm no longer all cramped with no room to move, I can stretch out and walk around and sit in different chairs and work at different tables ... happy happy joy joy ....
Tuesday, 11:29 am: I just realized I've been whistling the Jack Johnson tune "If I Had Eyes" while I'm working in my office. I tend to do that, whistle a song over and over again, whenever I am working really hard on some huge project that I'm stressed out about ... it's like a mechanism for keeping the anxiety at bay I think. Anyway, I just realized I was doing it, whistling "Sometimes time doesn't heal, no not at all. ... In or out of love ...." basically that part, over and over again ... and it's probably been getting on the nerves of the lawyer across the hall ... I just got a little self-conscious, wondering how long now I've been whistling it, and whether he's sitting across the hall with these terrible acoustics and thin walls wishing I'd shut up. [If former law clerk still worked here, btw, he would've been knocking on the wall and shooting me sarcastic emails telling me to QUIT IT way before I realized it for myself, btw ... dammit, he was useful in that way. And fun to annoy too b/c frankly whenever he complained I just whistled louder.] [DID YOU SEE THAT, BABY? ANOTHER SHOUT OUT TO YOU!!! God it's just no fucking fun around here anymore without you to here to pick on and annoy, and to pick on and annoy me right back.]
Tuesday, 12:27 pm: Lunchtime. Subway. Yum.
Tuesday, 12:39 pm: I think I ate that roast beef sub too fast. Feel like I might have to go throw up now. Yuck.
Tuesday, 1:17 pm: Ok, my boss ambled into my office a little bit ago, just coming out of a couple all-morning meetings, took a seat at my new conference table, dropped her notebook onto it, and dished about some interesting developments that occurred this morning in her various meetings. (I swear, there's just crazy stuff happening every day it seems. But that's not the point.) Point is, after about 10 minutes or so of chatting, she stretched her legs, sighed, gathered up her notebook, stood to go, ... and then suddenly did a double-take and said real loud "hey, you got new furniture!!!!" Uh, yeah ... that would be the very table and chairs you've been relaxing at for the past 10 minutes, occasionally banging a fist on or gently slapping to emphasize different points of your various stories from the morning; just now noticing? Hehehe. Ah, ha. Ok, comedic break over, back to work ... ah shit, I'm supposed to rehearse my argument to that boss and the big boss man too in about 2 hours, and not only have I not rehearsed it to myself yet, I'm not even finished with the damn first draft yet. Fuckamuckashucka.
Tuesday, 2:02 pm: Dangit, I have an email notification on my private email address telling me that I've received a new email on eharmony from one of my current interesting matches, someone I was emailing with last night ... but I can't freaking log on to eharmony from work, damn those infernal internet-site-blocking-devices on our work computers, so I won't be able to read the email until I get home tonight. Man, I hate knowing something's there like that, waiting to be read, and not being able to read it ... I like instant gratification, I want to read it now! Argh.
Tuesday, 3:49 pm: Any minute now my two bosses will be ready to listen to me practice my oral argument - for the first time ever out loud. Meaning, this rehearsal is going to suck. Hopefully they won't dwell on the fact that I'm not all that prepared if I bombard them with questions seeking advice and constructive criticism and strategy and "how would you do it" talk. Sigh.
Tuesday, 5:34 pm: Whew, first big rehearsal/practice/critique session down, and I have to admit even to myself, it wasn't half bad. And I got very helpful critiques and advice actually, to go back and tweak things, ... I'm beginning to feel some of the panic and anxiety over being prepared enough for this start to ease up; my shoulders feel a little lighter, I think my heartbeat has even slowed down a hair from what it's been the past two days. Thank God for more experienced coworkers who will take time to listen to you and, not just that, but spend time helping you make it better, and making you continue to keep talking out all the major points and boiling them down to more concise points even when you think you've made them concise enough and who make you go back and say stuff on your own again and again without wearing you down or anything but just enough so that each time you say it again it comes out sounding more intelligent and clearer and surer. Seriously, I'm feeling better now; I may complain about the big boss man from time to time, but when it comes to this kind of thing, making the big arguments and presentations before the big courts, I have to admit (and be grateful) that he does know what he's doing, and how to give good pointers and help you make your work better. Okay, now that all that's said ... holy hell, but it must be Miller Time somewhere; Mama needs a cocktail ....
Tuesday, 8:39 pm: Had that cocktail. Now am About. To. Crash. And I mean hard. Several nice eharmony emails from a few different guys waiting on me tonight when I got home, that's something to smile about. Answered a few ... way too tired to do anything else tonight though. About to Sack. Out. (Can't. Seem. to Stop. Writing. Like. This. So tired.)
Wednesday, 12:09 pm: Tweaking, tweaking, tweaking. I go through my argument, tweaking it as I review and study and analyze it. Once finished, I go through my argument again, tweaking it again as I review and study and analyze it more. This is the process of the morning, and it continues.
Thursday, 3:13 am: Jesus, I just woke up from some of the worst nightmare dreams I have ever had in my life. I am only writing this right now because they were so bad, and so vivid, that the second I came a little bit awake enough to realize I was only dreaming, I felt the strongest need ever to pull myself fully awake just so I wouldn't immediately drift back into them ... I needed to shake off that deep sleep enough to become fully awake for a bit only in order to convince my subconscious mind that those were, in fact, only dreams, only nightmares, not real, just so that I don't get sucked back into them again. God, damn, it ... I've always been a vivid dreamer, and I have had a ton of bad dreams before, but for so many reasons that I will not get into right now, those dreams I just woke up from tonight were the absolute worst, most nightmarish, and most scarily real-seeming, I've ever had.
Fuck, this does not bode well for the way this most important morning of argument is going to shape up for me ... perhaps my most important moment/event so far in my career as a lawyer is merely 6 hours and 10 minutes away, and because of a stupid fucking nightmire, I feel shaken to my very core right now ... and am still trying to finish fully waking my body and mind in order to shake its nasty lingering effects as I write this ... God. Damn. It. To. Hell. but I am just a tad freaked out right now ....
Thursday, 3:52 am: Fuck, I just got my period. That means cramps and stuff ... I tell you what, sometimes I do believe in signs and what have you, and between that stupid nightmare and then realizing this just now, I am now REALLY starting to have bad foreboding feelings about how things are going to go later on this morning ... dammit.
Thursday, 3:58 am: well I guess I'm just going to stay up at this point, not risk trying to go back to bed for a little bit more sleep and maybe end up oversleeping the 2 damn alarms I set out of paranoia of doing just that, the way my luck is going just now. Fuck, I'm feeling like my game is thrown before it even starts this morning.... Scheisse.
Thursday, 6:25 am: Just had a super intense, really ultra-sensitive orgasm. Did not intend to spend quite that much time with the rabbit, started 30 minutes ago, but sometimes that's just the way it goes, especially when you're reading Literotica stories as you're doing it. Helped with the cramps too, nicely enough ... and feeling much more relaxed now than I was a couple hours ago after that nightmare and then the stress and initial panic of starting to think this day was off to a terrible start, this most important and stressful day of work. So yeah, good call, masturbation in the early morning. Off to College Mart now for a 20-oz cup of coffee and a can of tuna for the kitties (it's a big day, they deserve a treat too). Then back to practice out loud for about an hour before I hit the shower and start getting dressed for court (bought a new suit for the occasion last night, professional Jones of New York black skirt suit that hits just below the knees, with a cinched-in waist and one-button closure in front with deep v and kinda short length jacket that tops a pencil-thin skirt that hugs the curves of my hips, so I'll look like a sexy professional to boot, which should give me some much-needed confidence this morning ... looks good with my skinny high heels too ... starting to get a little pumped up and excited now that it's so close, can you tell?)
Thursday, 11:47 am: OVER!!! More in my next post ....
Can you die of a panic attack?
I have oral argument later this week; my first ever appellate oral argument. Before a real court, I mean, not just a fake panel of law school judges. And holy shit but I'm nervous.
What if I have a panic attack? What if they ask me questions that I don't know the answers to and I stumble and mumble and look like a fool?
Would it be very bad of me to do a shot of Jack Daniels before I head into court for my argument? You know, just to calm the nerves. Although it would be pretty bad if someone smelled it on my breath; hmm, maybe not then.
Fuck, I'm nervous.
What if I have a panic attack? What if they ask me questions that I don't know the answers to and I stumble and mumble and look like a fool?
Would it be very bad of me to do a shot of Jack Daniels before I head into court for my argument? You know, just to calm the nerves. Although it would be pretty bad if someone smelled it on my breath; hmm, maybe not then.
Fuck, I'm nervous.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Arrogance on Display
Should any of you fellow lawyers/law students out there one day find yourselves in a situation like I'm in, where you just have zero dating life and finally give in and sign up for an online dating service, let me give you this little piece of advice: when filling out your online profile, where it says "occupation" and gives you a totally blank space for you to fill it in and describe it as you choose, DO NOT write "Attorney at Law." It's just fucking stupid to say it that way.
Match closed. (Hey, there are a lot of potential matches out there: I've gotta draw the lines somehow.)
Match closed. (Hey, there are a lot of potential matches out there: I've gotta draw the lines somehow.)
Orange Juice is good for a cold.
Especially when you pour a little of it over a big glass of vodka and ice.
Man I'm feelin better tonight. Either alcohol does help with a cough, or I'm just too drunk to care. Thank god it's friday night.
Man I'm feelin better tonight. Either alcohol does help with a cough, or I'm just too drunk to care. Thank god it's friday night.
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