Oh Bea, you great lady you!

Ok, I LOVE the Golden Girls, and I love Bea Arthur. I mostly love her because of the Golden Girls, but really, that lady was something all-around.

I posted a video of her from a GG episode on my Facebook page, in honor of her passing. But there was another video I really liked, but didn't think my relatives, who have access to my Facebook page, would appreciate me loving so much, but you people will understand, I think. So here it is: this kinda makes me wish I'd been able to hang out with her in real life, I think it woulda been awesome. (And it kinda makes me want to buy this book by Pamela Anderson, and since I can't believe I just said that I kinda want to buy a book by Pamela Anderson, that's really saying something.)

Roast of Pamela Anderson
Bea Arthur Uncensored
comedycentral.com
Joke of the Day Stand-Up Comedy Free Online Games

the lawyer at work

This past week I've had that rare spring, warm-weather cold. I blame it on my sister's kids, whom I played with and stayed with this past weekend. They were healthy as horses, but I hear those demon kids can be carriers of evil germs while appearing perfectly normal. At any rate, I've been sick off my ass this past week, worst cold-type-thing I can remember having in years, and have missed a bunch of work because of it.


Today I'm feeling a lot better. The sunshine helps, I think. I like to get my vitamin D naturally. And I think it's baked what's left of my horrible cold out of my body, except for this horrible lingering cough. But I figure, more direct sunshine topped off with massive amounts of alcohol will cure that cough in no time.

Which brings me to my point: holy shit, I have an appellate brief due Wednesday. I've already gotten one extension on this brief. Thought I'd have it in the bag by now, but damn, it's snuck up on me.

I brought all my stuff home with me that I need to work on it, last time I was in the office. (I think that was Wednesday mid-day? Can't quite remember. I've been in a medicinal coma most of the week.) So really, I need to get to work on that brief, this weekend.

It's, what, Saturday? Mid-afternoon? I think. I've been lounging outside with the cats, soaking up that natural vitamin D (it's fucking 90 degrees here today, woohoo!), drinking ice-cold pinot grigio (hey, it helps soothe the cough), and listening to the Buena Vista Social Club album, and I'm feeling kinda good and laid-back and warm and buzzed.

Only now I think I really do need to start working on that appellate brief. If I have any chance of making my Wednesday filing deadline. I've filled in lots of the basic facts and obvious law citations already, but I have yet to get to that creative part, where I try to craft the argument. It's better that I'm the respondent, but still; this one has some tricky issues in it, and it's going to require creative thought to respond to them.

And considering that, maybe it's not such a bad thing that I'm totally buzzed right now ... let the creative juices flow! Let's write a brief this sunny Saturday late afternoon! Somebody, turn up the Bob Marley and pour me another drink, I'm ready to write.

I don't know which disturbs me more:

That my mom is on Facebook, or that my mom just sent me an email over Facebook that started out with "Bummer!" (in response to me telling her I have a bad cold.)

update: Ok, my mom's first Facebook status update ever says, "why am I getting all these ads for anti-aging products? Is my web cam on?" I knew I got my goofy sense of humor from her.

YES! NO! YES! NO!

YES!

That's what I said out loud this morning when I realized that the time for asshat to file any further appeal had passed and I had not received a copy of an appeal from him.

NO!

That's what I said out loud a little later this morning when the mail came and in it was a copy of a petition for further appeal that asshat filed the day before yesterday.

YES!

And that's what I said out loud when I checked the envelope his petition came in and saw that, despite his claim that he served me by mail on the 15th and despite the postage meter stamp on the envelope that says the 15th, his mailing was postmarked by the actual post office on the 16th. Specifically, the post office's stamp says "THU 16 APR 2009 PM." So not even morning on the 16th, but afternoon on the 16th. Meaning, too late, asshat. TOO. DAMN. LATE.

NO!

And finally, that's what I said when I checked the rules in preparation of drafting a motion to dismiss, and discovered that this particular motion doesn't require that he serve it on the same day as he filed it. Of course he should have anyway, but I can't get him kicked out of court for not doing it. Dammit; there went my bright happy mood. Oh well.

No need to be so alarmed

Yesterday afternoon a new email notification box popped up on my screen while I was sitting at my desk writing a brief. The sender was someone in management of the office building where I work, and it went out to everyone in the building. (Several hundred people, I'd guess.) The subject was "car alarm." And somehow I knew, without having any basis whatsoever, just a gut feeling, but I knew that the email was referring to my car.

The email described a car parked in the back parking lot, and said that the car alarm was going off. And sure enough, the car it described, license plate number included, was mine.

Annoyed and embarrassed, I trudged down to the back door of the office building and then crossed through the sea of cars out back towards the area of the parking lot where I always park. Which would be the actual back corner of the back parking lot, since I'm always arriving a minute or two or ten late, and the lot is always filled up by that point. I was grateful at least to notice that I couldn't hear a car alarm going off anywhere. It must have shut itself off finally, I thought. Keys in hand, I glanced from car to car once I got to that particular corner of the lot, searching out my car. I always park in that same area, but not always in the same exact spot, you see. So I'm looking, and I'm looking, and ... I'm not seeing my car. Anywhere.

I thought for sure my eyes were just fooling me at first. But no; my car wasn't there. Suddenly a bad feeling shot through my whole system. Goosebumps raised on my arms. And I thought to myself: "OH. HOLY. CRAP. MY CAR IS GONE. THAT'S WHY THE ALARM WAS GOING OFF; SOMEBODY WAS ACTUALLY BREAKING INTO MY CAR. AND HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, THEY FUCKING STOLE IT!!!!!!!!!!!"

My next thoughts were very quick and jumbled together and random. I couldn't sort them all out for you, but it went something like this: "i can't believe someone stole my fucking car. what do i do now? maybe it's not stolen. no, shit, it is, it's not here anywhere! wait, do i see it going down the street? nope. ok, should i call the cops? why didn't the fucking person who reported the fucking alarm going off say someone was fucking breaking into it? maybe they didn't notice. that bitch who sent the email could've stopped this though! or not. why the fuck didn't someone yell stop? there are people out here. hey, people, where'd my car go? maybe i should ask someone if they saw someone driving off in my car. or maybe i should go inside and call 911. shit, what the fuck am i going to do without a car? oh shit, this fucking sucks man!!"

That's pretty much how my train of thought went. The most important point here being, I stood around in that parking lot for at least a little while, looking around like an idiot, with huge disbelieving eyes, long enough to think about all that shit and to try to figure out what to do next.

And then it hit me: "Oh, oh wait ... wait just a second ... did I park back here this morning? Ummmmmm .... hold on .... ohhhhhh, yeah, that's right, I was running late, and I was in a bad mood, and I noticed that a couple of those spots near the building's entrance that are reserved for people who carpool together were empty, and I pulled into one of those. Well, shit, I guess that means my car's probably not stolen."

So I made my way back towards the part of the parking lot with all the "carpool" signs, (part of the office's effort to encourage people to ride in to work together to save gas and make less pollution for the environment and all that shit), and there was my car. Safe and sound.

I figured someone must have accidentally bumped into it real hard and set off the alarm. Probably what I get for parking in the carpool spot when I'm not in a carpool, I thought. Karma.

This morning I was tempted once again to pull into one of those carpool spots that I could tell was empty when I got to work. But, thinking about my lesson in karma from yesterday, I headed on back to the back corner of the parking lot, and parked in my usual place.

This afternoon, I got another email from the office manager, going out to the whole building. Once again, it said car alarm. Once again, it described my car. Then it said "Your car alarm is going off. Again." Motherfucker.

back to eharmonot

Well I'm finally really, really, REALLY ready to date again. Actively seeking, I mean. And since I seem to have trouble meeting new people in everyday life, and since eharmony did bring me the hometown guy, who was great even though it wasn't meant to be in the long run, I figured I'd give eharmony another shot.

So far I haven't had a ton of matches, and none that have stood out as someone who might be a really good potential match. But at least today I did get my first "wtf?" match.

Because seriously, when you put your profile out there on a dating service and under occupation you say "online poker player," I have to say, "what the fuck?"

Here's hoping I get more matches with people who make their living some way other than sitting at home in their pj's gambling online all day long.

UPDATE: Ok, I just got my second wtf match. Dudes out there: no girl is going to want to follow up with you when your first impression is a photo of yourself lounging on your side on a couch swirling a glass of wine. Maybe if I knew you and you were doing that as a joke, I'd think it was funny; but not knowing you, well shit, maybe you're not joking. I'm not going to try to find out.

Second update: Man, it's the night of the duds. Or who knows, maybe it's just me; maybe I'm just in a weird mood tonight. Because none of these things are sitting well with me. Including the guy who under "occupation" says "it's pretty much a full time job just being me." What the fuck does that mean? I don't think I care to find out.

And the award for best boyfriend goes to:

As an excuse for failing a drug test, I don't buy it, but DAMMMMMMN this guy must REALLY love eating pussy. I'm a little jealous of the cokehead girlfriend.

suck on that, asshat!

I won my appeal. Woohoo!