Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Random!
Keeping with the totally random posts--check this blog out. It's so strange. Don't ask how I stumbled upon it.
Calling All Decorators
So, *sigh*, I'm in this great new apartment and I have zero decorating prowess. I don't even know how to use an electric drill. I'm feeling uninspired. I need help. Please come help me, but only if you promise not to judge me for my lack of vision almost 2 months in. I'll buy nice things for you and tell you witty jokes and funny stories while you're here. I'm desperate. Seriously.
In other news, SH and I are hosting a kickass barbeque this weekend. It's a kickball fest too, just 'cause. I think it will be a good way to kick out all the crappy that's been hanging around. I might bake a cake. And that's that.
In other news, SH and I are hosting a kickass barbeque this weekend. It's a kickball fest too, just 'cause. I think it will be a good way to kick out all the crappy that's been hanging around. I might bake a cake. And that's that.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Is There Something In the Air?
I have a lot to say and I'm not sure how to put it all down. So here's what I'm thinking about right now in bullet point style and maybe I'll pull my thoughts together to throw down a real post at some point soon:
- The changing of seasons in DC and how it seems that this somewhat lethargic movement from Summer to Fall has proved to be remarkably evocative in its ability to force feelings to emerge that I think some of my best gals would rather like to have remain buried;
- The way people justify their treatment of the people who they've considered friends for years. FYI everyone: allowing ostensibly a good friend to find out about your engagement 2 weeks later from the 87th person who knew about it before her is kind of a kick in the balls to that friendship;
- Why people (aka: some very dense boys) don't seem to see what I see in my gals;
- O Canada Girls by Dar Williams;
- Why boys we loved deeply and still love in many ways more privately have the ability to tug at our hearts. And maybe even have the ability to make us choke back tears when hearing the words "he forgives you" muttered on the metro after a long day;
- Why I was a blathering idiot, reminscent of first semester first year, when called on in Securities Regulation today;
- The Long Way Around by the Dixie Chicks;
- The knowledge that, even at our weakest, we are all fabulous girls with fabulous lives, futures, pasts and presents--regardless of what our low points try to whisper to the contrary;
- How wonderful thanksgiving will be in NC with my sister, bro-in-law, cousin and best gal pal HB;
- Hope springing eternal.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Things I Learned in My Apartment This Week
I am procrastinating going through my outline for my final tomorrow, so instead I'll impart some wisdom on everyone tonight:
Clean the lint filter out in your dryer frequently.
In my old apartment, I was the lint filter nazi. I even taped a note on the dryer to remind my roommates to do the same. The fear of the dryer catching on fire due to one layer of lint left in the lint trap was instilled in my at an early age by my mother. She continues to remind me that I will burn in a firey hell of lint and damp laundry if I don't.
This apartment has a different washer and dryer than the ones I am used to. They're new and kinda European-esque. They stack and are digital. They're super quiet (except for the spin cycle on the washer, which makes it feel like an earthquake that would register at about a 7 on the Richter scale is happening in my apartment). But I've noticed in the past...oh...2 weeks that the dryer takes a really astoundingly long time to dry clothes. I polled my friends to see if they had any suggestions. SG suggested it was an energy saver. OOHH. Ok, I could live with that.
Until it took me 3 friggin' hours to dry a load of laundry. I stared at my dryer. STARED. What is wrong with you, dryer? I considered calling Armo who has kidnapped the washer/dryer instructions to have her read them to me aloud over the phone.
And then it dawned on me: the lint trap. WHERE THE F%$K IS THE LINT TRAP???!! it took me, I shit you not, about 10 minutes to locate. They hide those suckers sleekly, the Europeans do. When I found it, the poor thing was packed and I gazed at all the layers and retraced my laundry doing ways over the past month in the colors stacked upon each other.
Oh my mother will be disappointed....
I sheepishly put my wet load of laundry in, spun the digital dial to "normal dry" and checked it when it softly beeped at the end of the cycle. Secretly hoping that the load, like the others the past few weeks, would still be damp, I reached in and shoved my hand in.
Nope. Bone Dry. Whoops.
Lesson learned. And, I might add, this is an actual lesson, not the bullshit one that was thrust on GT this evening, it seems. The gall of some people!
Clean the lint filter out in your dryer frequently.
In my old apartment, I was the lint filter nazi. I even taped a note on the dryer to remind my roommates to do the same. The fear of the dryer catching on fire due to one layer of lint left in the lint trap was instilled in my at an early age by my mother. She continues to remind me that I will burn in a firey hell of lint and damp laundry if I don't.
This apartment has a different washer and dryer than the ones I am used to. They're new and kinda European-esque. They stack and are digital. They're super quiet (except for the spin cycle on the washer, which makes it feel like an earthquake that would register at about a 7 on the Richter scale is happening in my apartment). But I've noticed in the past...oh...2 weeks that the dryer takes a really astoundingly long time to dry clothes. I polled my friends to see if they had any suggestions. SG suggested it was an energy saver. OOHH. Ok, I could live with that.
Until it took me 3 friggin' hours to dry a load of laundry. I stared at my dryer. STARED. What is wrong with you, dryer? I considered calling Armo who has kidnapped the washer/dryer instructions to have her read them to me aloud over the phone.
And then it dawned on me: the lint trap. WHERE THE F%$K IS THE LINT TRAP???!! it took me, I shit you not, about 10 minutes to locate. They hide those suckers sleekly, the Europeans do. When I found it, the poor thing was packed and I gazed at all the layers and retraced my laundry doing ways over the past month in the colors stacked upon each other.
Oh my mother will be disappointed....
I sheepishly put my wet load of laundry in, spun the digital dial to "normal dry" and checked it when it softly beeped at the end of the cycle. Secretly hoping that the load, like the others the past few weeks, would still be damp, I reached in and shoved my hand in.
Nope. Bone Dry. Whoops.
Lesson learned. And, I might add, this is an actual lesson, not the bullshit one that was thrust on GT this evening, it seems. The gall of some people!
Would you like a side of global warming with that Chai?
DC is gross right now. It feels more like mid-August than mid-October. It's seriously affecting my inner-self as it gets dark by 7pm (latest) but it's still 90 degrees and humid out. Eeew.
However--I'm laying down a secret plan, and have been for some time, to try to get it to cool off. While I never EVER drink hot beverages in the hot summer months unless a) I am traveling, b) I am sick or c) it's soup other than gazpacho, I have started ordering warm drinks once again. It's not done much, up until now, other than make sweatier than I would have been by just walking outside, but it's my own way of willing the season to actually change. I just ordered my favorite fall/winter drink, in fact, a nice, extra hot soy chai latte from (strike me down and light me on fire) Starbucks.
And wouldn't you know it--I just checked the weather and tomorrow is supposed to in the mid-60s! While I generally would not rejoice at a solid 30 degree temperature change this quickly, I gotta say, I'm looking forward to a brisk walk to the metro tomorrow morning (wake me up before my exam!) versus the walk that makes me feel like I need a shower..again.
Anyone up for some apple picking in this (hopefully) seasonably appropriate weather we're about to get??!!
However--I'm laying down a secret plan, and have been for some time, to try to get it to cool off. While I never EVER drink hot beverages in the hot summer months unless a) I am traveling, b) I am sick or c) it's soup other than gazpacho, I have started ordering warm drinks once again. It's not done much, up until now, other than make sweatier than I would have been by just walking outside, but it's my own way of willing the season to actually change. I just ordered my favorite fall/winter drink, in fact, a nice, extra hot soy chai latte from (strike me down and light me on fire) Starbucks.
And wouldn't you know it--I just checked the weather and tomorrow is supposed to in the mid-60s! While I generally would not rejoice at a solid 30 degree temperature change this quickly, I gotta say, I'm looking forward to a brisk walk to the metro tomorrow morning (wake me up before my exam!) versus the walk that makes me feel like I need a shower..again.
Anyone up for some apple picking in this (hopefully) seasonably appropriate weather we're about to get??!!
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Multiple Personality Disorder
I've been having this strange experience the past few months here in the nation's capitol--I've felt, on a number of occasions since May, like I have been morphing into a person who is a stranger to the person I've always been. I don't think it's permanent, and it certainly only comes out on specific occasions, but it's unsettling because it's what I've said (and still feel) that I never want to become.
The summer experiences I've had while in law school have been diverse--from working in a refugee camp in a forgotten area of the world to working in the world's largest international law firm, I have spanned not only continents, but socio-economic, religious and law related spectrums. I left the refugee camp with the solid and sure sense that the experience would be one of many working with refugees in less savory parts of the world. I left with a deeper perspective about people, faith, suffering, desperation and joy. This past summer was also a learning experience, a perspective enhancing lesson in corporate America and world and presented struggles, like the refugee camp, that I had never confronted previously.
I've always maintained that I would step into corporate law for the amount of time it would take me to pay off loans and get some cushion in the bank--then I would waltz out and pursue a life that I would find fulfilling. But I have to say--being in this corporate, money soaked environment is like having a hook in you that isn't always noticeable, but that allows you to be dragged back in at a moments notice. And sometimes that world is alarmingly fun.
I felt myself being yanked back, most recently, this past Friday. A good friend and very senior associate at the firm and I had planned to get a drink that evening, most likely later in the night. Friday was one of those perfect full days--errands run, groceries purchased, banking done, house cleaning/laundry taken care of while a pot of Moroccan lentil soup simmered on the stove. My dear friend SG called after having a harried day and I invited her over for some soup and wine to unwind after being immersed in the gritty city. A little while later another good gal friend called. Soup's on the stove, wine's on the counter, come on over! Later CB, HB, and LH all made their way up 17th to my little apartment, all bearing wine, all wanting the company of friends and to just relax. At one point, as I opened my fridge and scoured for more cheese and crackers for this impromptu get together, I paused and was just kind of surveying the scene--it filled me with such great joy to have a home where people wanted to gather, to get away, to have some home cooked lovin' and just be comfortable. I, in my yoga pants and baggy t-shirt, was equally at home and it was just one of those good moments.
Having planned to meet up with the firm guy around 10:30, I hopped in the shower (leaving everyone in the living room), and transformed from yoga pants/t-shirt to high end city night life wear in less than 20 minutes. I gave SG my extra set of keys, put out some more cheese, gave kisses on cheeks and headed out of my apartment full of friends. This is where the transition begins.
Out of my warm, homey, friend filled apartment to a high end bar/lounge restaurant where everyone knows my friend the bill is never too high. 200 dollar bottles of wine, 60 dollar steak, the special duck pate (which is one of the places I had to draw the line) and just more and more and more. I realized, at the sight of the town car waiting for us outside, we would not be returning to my sanctuary anytime soon.
And I was right. The town car diligently waited outside the venues the firm friend took us to. When we left the first place, not having finished the second egregiously expensive wine, we simply emptied the decanter into our glasses, popped outside and into the hired car and drank it on the way. At each stop we would return to the car to have cold water waiting between the seats. It was one place after another until there wasn't anywhere else to go, and then the night was over.
The next day, as I stared at the blisters from the hot little shoes and nursed my hangover, I starting thinking about the decadence and frivolity that comes with the lifestyle I am walking into, at least temporarily. I find myself torn between having the ability to shake it off and balance the new with the old, and feeling like my ability to enjoy this extravagance has allowed me to misplace some of the conviction and perspective that I have held onto so strongly until now. I wonder if I should feel guilty about 500 dollar bar tabs never paid for by me, VIP rooms and table service at clubs. I'm definitely not looking for the answer here--It's just been on my mind.
The summer experiences I've had while in law school have been diverse--from working in a refugee camp in a forgotten area of the world to working in the world's largest international law firm, I have spanned not only continents, but socio-economic, religious and law related spectrums. I left the refugee camp with the solid and sure sense that the experience would be one of many working with refugees in less savory parts of the world. I left with a deeper perspective about people, faith, suffering, desperation and joy. This past summer was also a learning experience, a perspective enhancing lesson in corporate America and world and presented struggles, like the refugee camp, that I had never confronted previously.
I've always maintained that I would step into corporate law for the amount of time it would take me to pay off loans and get some cushion in the bank--then I would waltz out and pursue a life that I would find fulfilling. But I have to say--being in this corporate, money soaked environment is like having a hook in you that isn't always noticeable, but that allows you to be dragged back in at a moments notice. And sometimes that world is alarmingly fun.
I felt myself being yanked back, most recently, this past Friday. A good friend and very senior associate at the firm and I had planned to get a drink that evening, most likely later in the night. Friday was one of those perfect full days--errands run, groceries purchased, banking done, house cleaning/laundry taken care of while a pot of Moroccan lentil soup simmered on the stove. My dear friend SG called after having a harried day and I invited her over for some soup and wine to unwind after being immersed in the gritty city. A little while later another good gal friend called. Soup's on the stove, wine's on the counter, come on over! Later CB, HB, and LH all made their way up 17th to my little apartment, all bearing wine, all wanting the company of friends and to just relax. At one point, as I opened my fridge and scoured for more cheese and crackers for this impromptu get together, I paused and was just kind of surveying the scene--it filled me with such great joy to have a home where people wanted to gather, to get away, to have some home cooked lovin' and just be comfortable. I, in my yoga pants and baggy t-shirt, was equally at home and it was just one of those good moments.
Having planned to meet up with the firm guy around 10:30, I hopped in the shower (leaving everyone in the living room), and transformed from yoga pants/t-shirt to high end city night life wear in less than 20 minutes. I gave SG my extra set of keys, put out some more cheese, gave kisses on cheeks and headed out of my apartment full of friends. This is where the transition begins.
Out of my warm, homey, friend filled apartment to a high end bar/lounge restaurant where everyone knows my friend the bill is never too high. 200 dollar bottles of wine, 60 dollar steak, the special duck pate (which is one of the places I had to draw the line) and just more and more and more. I realized, at the sight of the town car waiting for us outside, we would not be returning to my sanctuary anytime soon.
And I was right. The town car diligently waited outside the venues the firm friend took us to. When we left the first place, not having finished the second egregiously expensive wine, we simply emptied the decanter into our glasses, popped outside and into the hired car and drank it on the way. At each stop we would return to the car to have cold water waiting between the seats. It was one place after another until there wasn't anywhere else to go, and then the night was over.
The next day, as I stared at the blisters from the hot little shoes and nursed my hangover, I starting thinking about the decadence and frivolity that comes with the lifestyle I am walking into, at least temporarily. I find myself torn between having the ability to shake it off and balance the new with the old, and feeling like my ability to enjoy this extravagance has allowed me to misplace some of the conviction and perspective that I have held onto so strongly until now. I wonder if I should feel guilty about 500 dollar bar tabs never paid for by me, VIP rooms and table service at clubs. I'm definitely not looking for the answer here--It's just been on my mind.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Update on Crushing *Sigh*
So. In typical DLS life fashion my crush ended far too quickly after beginning. But it's totally not my fault. It's his.
I looked cute on Wednesday night (if I do say so myself) and thanks to a nice sale in Ann Taylor that I stumbled upon that afternoon after a MAJOR clothes crisis hit at school, I snapped up two pairs of delightful shoes (both of which were super cute) and a couple of pairs of pants. JB had sent the bat signal out to him so I was totally hopeful an appearance would be made.
The event was great--tons of people, some major surprises of people who I had not seen for ages and was thrilled to reconnect with. And i kept glancing around for CICB. Until JB came over and told me she had just gotten a text from him and that he had his "own" "Intelligence Ctte" event that night.
Didn't he know I was there? That I looked super cute? I was disappointed for, about, .6 seconds and then got over it. People to mingle with and wine to be drunk!
Later that evening after the event and in the cab on the way to Poste with CB and the former Good Press Secretary, I got some more intel on CICB. Apparently, the man is SUPER flirty with everyone and has, *gasp*, commitment issues. OH! And, the gf I thought he had been dating for a few months, it turns out they've been together over a year!
So I'm over it. Crushes are fun while they last, but it's never fun to fall for the unavailable men (though I'm beginning to think they're ALL unavailable) with commitment problems. Oh well, I guess the game of world domination will stay packed up on my shelf a little bit longer.
I looked cute on Wednesday night (if I do say so myself) and thanks to a nice sale in Ann Taylor that I stumbled upon that afternoon after a MAJOR clothes crisis hit at school, I snapped up two pairs of delightful shoes (both of which were super cute) and a couple of pairs of pants. JB had sent the bat signal out to him so I was totally hopeful an appearance would be made.
The event was great--tons of people, some major surprises of people who I had not seen for ages and was thrilled to reconnect with. And i kept glancing around for CICB. Until JB came over and told me she had just gotten a text from him and that he had his "own" "Intelligence Ctte" event that night.
Didn't he know I was there? That I looked super cute? I was disappointed for, about, .6 seconds and then got over it. People to mingle with and wine to be drunk!
Later that evening after the event and in the cab on the way to Poste with CB and the former Good Press Secretary, I got some more intel on CICB. Apparently, the man is SUPER flirty with everyone and has, *gasp*, commitment issues. OH! And, the gf I thought he had been dating for a few months, it turns out they've been together over a year!
So I'm over it. Crushes are fun while they last, but it's never fun to fall for the unavailable men (though I'm beginning to think they're ALL unavailable) with commitment problems. Oh well, I guess the game of world domination will stay packed up on my shelf a little bit longer.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Crushing
*WARNING (mom): This post is a little more scandalous than others. Proceed with caution*
This week I've felt like a young 18 year old again, walking on cloud nine (or maybe my head has been more on cloud nine than usual, who knows), picking virtual daisies and singing (to myself, rest assured) show tunes as I stroll down the street.
Why? Well. It's been a long time since DLS had a "crush". Noo, I don't mean the "crush" that sometimes develops on the cute coffee guy (I swear he gives me extra shots every time I go in!) or like the one some people get on the UPS dude, or the person across the street you see every day when you're not wearing your glasses but he appears to be of the male persuasion so hell, let's have a crush on him too, just for good measure.
No, this is the kind when you meet someone and it's like an instantaneous connection. You become wittier, hotter, classier, and the most interesting person in the room immediately. I've had versions of those over the last year--but they've all kind of stopped before starting for various reasons (and by all I mean, like, 2. Ok maybe one. But let's say 2). But this past Thursday it happened again. And alas, there is, of course, a story. So let me paint the picture.
There was an event at the Good Senator's office to say good-bye to the Good Press Secretary for his committee. I always love going to these events as I get to catch up with folks who I rarely see and pretend I'm reliving my old days roaming the halls of Dirksen and Russell and Hart. It's great. My wing-gal LP had shown up, and we were making our rounds from the bar to the cheese plate back to the bar (you get the idea) interrupted only to say hello to people (including the Good Senator--on a side note--I did not realize just how busty my new cute shirt was until he casually glanced down. Whoops). Finally, our friend JB arrived. JB still works for the Good Senator and has a very important job, so it's normal that LP and I arrive first, but we hate that, because we like to travel in JB's pack since she knows way more people than we do (and it's guaranteed to be way more fun that way. In honesty, we try to sequester JB to a corner near the bar with us so the three of us can just stand around and catch up and drink cocktails, but that only works for about 13 minutes, tops, generally). Anyway. As LP and I strolled up to JB we noticed (ok, "we" means "I" since LP is recently and happily married) she was talking to a young man we had never met. We made small talk with JB until finally she introduced us.
*Cue Fireworks*
Cute Intelligence Committee Boy (CICB) and I immediate hit it off. It was like a ray of light had started shining on the two of us and we just chatted and laughed and I was super witty and hilarious. Now, here's the thing. I'm a dork. I own it, I live it (occassionaly) but it's hard to hide when my guard is down and I'm beginning to gush. CICB works behind, what JB refers to as, the frosty glass doors next door to where JB adn I used to share an office. It's very clandestine (In fact, I think I made that exact comment last week to CICB) and just adds to the sexiness of the person. I went into full flirt mode and I think it was going really well. Until I did the following:
CICB and DLS: lots of witty and fun conversation. DLS might have asked for a tour of the space behind the frosty glass doors. CICB might have said (verbatim) "I think that can be arranged" (but it sounded super hot when he said it). The DLS did the following (and should be shot for it):
DLS: OMG! Since you work in Intelligence, and you work behind the frosty glass doors where everything's clandestine, I have to ask: Do you play Risk? You must love risk! That's clandestine too!
Let's all just stop and pause at the statement above. WHO SAYS THAT? ME! I do. And the thing is, it didn't stop there.
CICB: Oh yeah, I like Risk.
DLS: You DO??? Ok, well, how about Castle Risk, I mean, come ON, that one is way better than regular Risk.
JB and LP: Oh holy Jesus. What is DLS doing.
CICB: You have Castle Risk? Wow, that is totally old School
DLS: Oh, I know (being as modest as usual)--I actually have the 1992 version off E-bay with Risk on one side and Castle Risk on the other. It's awesome!!!!
So you all get the picture. I am an idiot. As the party wound down in the committee room, we started making plans for the after party event (which staffers from the Good Senator's office are famous for). CICB had to go finish some stuff up, but said he'd meet us there. The minute he left I went mining for details. JB and the Good Press Secretary were the first to break the news: he has a girl friend.
I refused to believe it. How could there be SO much palpable chemistry if he has a girlfirend. I mean, throw me a freaking bone here! I convinced myself over the next hour it was all a lie. And then I met her. Frankly, she's not very nice. I'm way nicer. And funnier. And then the kicker happened. She latched onto me and decided, since we live in the same neighborhood, that we should be new BFFs and hang out together.
We exchanged numbers. The GF and I. Not CICB and I. But here's the problem: I don't want to hang out with HER. I want to hang out with CICB!!! I was advised it would be of poor moral character (Thanks EA!!) to hang out with her to get to him to break them up so I could marry him and live happily ever after (yes, that went through my mind. Breifly. Fine, I might burn in hell, but whatevs, I lived through hot season in the Sahara--it can't be worse than that).
So tonight is another Good Senator event. JB has been my diligent co-conspirator on the inside trying to ensure CICB would be there. I did my hair this morning and wore cute clothes. While I am hopeful that he arrives, sees me, and falls madly in love, I doubt that will happen.
So instead, I think I might invite him over for a game of World Domination (Risk) and see just who gets dominated in the end ;)
This week I've felt like a young 18 year old again, walking on cloud nine (or maybe my head has been more on cloud nine than usual, who knows), picking virtual daisies and singing (to myself, rest assured) show tunes as I stroll down the street.
Why? Well. It's been a long time since DLS had a "crush". Noo, I don't mean the "crush" that sometimes develops on the cute coffee guy (I swear he gives me extra shots every time I go in!) or like the one some people get on the UPS dude, or the person across the street you see every day when you're not wearing your glasses but he appears to be of the male persuasion so hell, let's have a crush on him too, just for good measure.
No, this is the kind when you meet someone and it's like an instantaneous connection. You become wittier, hotter, classier, and the most interesting person in the room immediately. I've had versions of those over the last year--but they've all kind of stopped before starting for various reasons (and by all I mean, like, 2. Ok maybe one. But let's say 2). But this past Thursday it happened again. And alas, there is, of course, a story. So let me paint the picture.
There was an event at the Good Senator's office to say good-bye to the Good Press Secretary for his committee. I always love going to these events as I get to catch up with folks who I rarely see and pretend I'm reliving my old days roaming the halls of Dirksen and Russell and Hart. It's great. My wing-gal LP had shown up, and we were making our rounds from the bar to the cheese plate back to the bar (you get the idea) interrupted only to say hello to people (including the Good Senator--on a side note--I did not realize just how busty my new cute shirt was until he casually glanced down. Whoops). Finally, our friend JB arrived. JB still works for the Good Senator and has a very important job, so it's normal that LP and I arrive first, but we hate that, because we like to travel in JB's pack since she knows way more people than we do (and it's guaranteed to be way more fun that way. In honesty, we try to sequester JB to a corner near the bar with us so the three of us can just stand around and catch up and drink cocktails, but that only works for about 13 minutes, tops, generally). Anyway. As LP and I strolled up to JB we noticed (ok, "we" means "I" since LP is recently and happily married) she was talking to a young man we had never met. We made small talk with JB until finally she introduced us.
*Cue Fireworks*
Cute Intelligence Committee Boy (CICB) and I immediate hit it off. It was like a ray of light had started shining on the two of us and we just chatted and laughed and I was super witty and hilarious. Now, here's the thing. I'm a dork. I own it, I live it (occassionaly) but it's hard to hide when my guard is down and I'm beginning to gush. CICB works behind, what JB refers to as, the frosty glass doors next door to where JB adn I used to share an office. It's very clandestine (In fact, I think I made that exact comment last week to CICB) and just adds to the sexiness of the person. I went into full flirt mode and I think it was going really well. Until I did the following:
CICB and DLS: lots of witty and fun conversation. DLS might have asked for a tour of the space behind the frosty glass doors. CICB might have said (verbatim) "I think that can be arranged" (but it sounded super hot when he said it). The DLS did the following (and should be shot for it):
DLS: OMG! Since you work in Intelligence, and you work behind the frosty glass doors where everything's clandestine, I have to ask: Do you play Risk? You must love risk! That's clandestine too!
Let's all just stop and pause at the statement above. WHO SAYS THAT? ME! I do. And the thing is, it didn't stop there.
CICB: Oh yeah, I like Risk.
DLS: You DO??? Ok, well, how about Castle Risk, I mean, come ON, that one is way better than regular Risk.
JB and LP: Oh holy Jesus. What is DLS doing.
CICB: You have Castle Risk? Wow, that is totally old School
DLS: Oh, I know (being as modest as usual)--I actually have the 1992 version off E-bay with Risk on one side and Castle Risk on the other. It's awesome!!!!
So you all get the picture. I am an idiot. As the party wound down in the committee room, we started making plans for the after party event (which staffers from the Good Senator's office are famous for). CICB had to go finish some stuff up, but said he'd meet us there. The minute he left I went mining for details. JB and the Good Press Secretary were the first to break the news: he has a girl friend.
I refused to believe it. How could there be SO much palpable chemistry if he has a girlfirend. I mean, throw me a freaking bone here! I convinced myself over the next hour it was all a lie. And then I met her. Frankly, she's not very nice. I'm way nicer. And funnier. And then the kicker happened. She latched onto me and decided, since we live in the same neighborhood, that we should be new BFFs and hang out together.
We exchanged numbers. The GF and I. Not CICB and I. But here's the problem: I don't want to hang out with HER. I want to hang out with CICB!!! I was advised it would be of poor moral character (Thanks EA!!) to hang out with her to get to him to break them up so I could marry him and live happily ever after (yes, that went through my mind. Breifly. Fine, I might burn in hell, but whatevs, I lived through hot season in the Sahara--it can't be worse than that).
So tonight is another Good Senator event. JB has been my diligent co-conspirator on the inside trying to ensure CICB would be there. I did my hair this morning and wore cute clothes. While I am hopeful that he arrives, sees me, and falls madly in love, I doubt that will happen.
So instead, I think I might invite him over for a game of World Domination (Risk) and see just who gets dominated in the end ;)
Monday, October 01, 2007
Dear Depressed Law Student....
Dear Depressed Law Student sitting next to me at Steam Cafe:
I can't help but overhear your conversation with your (possible but improbable) girlfriend since the tables here are 4 inches apart from each other. Let me start by telling you this: I sympathize. We all do (ok, not the psychos who love every single aspect of 3 years on a law campus, but most of us).
I understand those first few minutes, seeing a good friend to "catch up", sitting there making awkward small talk. Glancing at the menu. Shuffling around nervously. And I understand the dam the size of Hoover that is waiting to burst at the first question of: And how are you really.
I could not help but smile into my Con law II reading on soft and hard originalism as you discussed the "exciting" aspect that you just received approval to teach an 8 week boxing class at the gym on campus, only to then spiral downward to reveal your true levels of depression as you exclaim how it WOULD be great, but they decided to charge for the class. They being, as you further explain, the state of the art gym that is being financed by thousands of student dollars that are masked in our tuition. And to top it off, charging means most likely no one will come.
Ah ha. YOU too, Depressed Law Student, go to my frugal law center. Now I can sympathize even more with your self professed "deep depression. Kind of like a mid life crisis".
Depressed Law Student (Funny, we share the same acronym), let me assure you: it will get better. Even though you state that "you know, my grades aren't that good" and reiterate "I'm just really depressed", believe me--some day you'll be walking down the street and that feeling of deep seeded depression will give way to blanket acceptance of the next decade or so of your life and what you'll be doing.
And trust me, Depressed Law Student, if you think law school is bad, just wait till you get to a firm.
Hugs and Kisses (and look into our discounted, though still inferior, therapy included in our really remarkably poor health care plan),
DLS
I can't help but overhear your conversation with your (possible but improbable) girlfriend since the tables here are 4 inches apart from each other. Let me start by telling you this: I sympathize. We all do (ok, not the psychos who love every single aspect of 3 years on a law campus, but most of us).
I understand those first few minutes, seeing a good friend to "catch up", sitting there making awkward small talk. Glancing at the menu. Shuffling around nervously. And I understand the dam the size of Hoover that is waiting to burst at the first question of: And how are you really.
I could not help but smile into my Con law II reading on soft and hard originalism as you discussed the "exciting" aspect that you just received approval to teach an 8 week boxing class at the gym on campus, only to then spiral downward to reveal your true levels of depression as you exclaim how it WOULD be great, but they decided to charge for the class. They being, as you further explain, the state of the art gym that is being financed by thousands of student dollars that are masked in our tuition. And to top it off, charging means most likely no one will come.
Ah ha. YOU too, Depressed Law Student, go to my frugal law center. Now I can sympathize even more with your self professed "deep depression. Kind of like a mid life crisis".
Depressed Law Student (Funny, we share the same acronym), let me assure you: it will get better. Even though you state that "you know, my grades aren't that good" and reiterate "I'm just really depressed", believe me--some day you'll be walking down the street and that feeling of deep seeded depression will give way to blanket acceptance of the next decade or so of your life and what you'll be doing.
And trust me, Depressed Law Student, if you think law school is bad, just wait till you get to a firm.
Hugs and Kisses (and look into our discounted, though still inferior, therapy included in our really remarkably poor health care plan),
DLS
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