Geeky Chic

After leaving a birthday event populated with former gothkids and
rockabillies, all I can say, is, “Yes, one can overdose on irony.”

And the dreaded assignment that arrives at 1:41 p.m. the day before Thanksgiving lands on my desk.  I was 19 minutes away…

It’s official; I can now use those three sweet letters after my name.

I love the fact that it’s mid-November and it’s still mildly warm outside.  On my return from court today, I was able to peel off my blazer, and distance myself from the horrible “Cookie Quan – #1 Realtor on the Westside” look that my hair/suit combo conveys at times.  Days like this turn me into a smug San Franciscan.

**

Also, the “City of Industry” in Southern California came up in the trial that I was observing this morning.  I think that “City of Industry” has a rather beautiful ring to it, akin to something out of a comic book set during the post-WWII era.  I am sure that reality will not live up to my imagination, and it is as dull as South San Francisco, “The Industrial City.”

I committed a serious verbal gaffe yesterday.  I met up with a friend who was sent to SF by her firm for a recruiting event.  When I greeted her in the lobby of her swanky hotel, one of my first comments was, “Why did they send you up here?  Are they trotting you out for diversity?”  Unbeknownst to me, the partners from her firm were standing only a few feet away.  Finch claims that they didn’t hear me though, because they were busy giving him dirty looks for wearing his “Palestine 48” sweatshirt, in honor of the recently departed Yasser.  It’s a good thing I wasn’t dressed in the part of a lawyer.  I did find some consolation in what the bartender promised would be “the best sidecar you’ve ever tasted.”

**

On a more disconcerting note, I discovered that my biological father is up to his old addictions; he confirmed today that he’s gambling again (I asked him point-blank).  Lost businesses, lost family, lost respect, this has been going on for over 20 years.  He signifies so much wasted potential to me — gambling is a mania to him.  Oddly, so many of my decisions are influenced by my desire not to repeat his mistakes (and thankfully, I don’t have the Asian gambling gene).

I think that I caught the Portland Doc Review curse.  I believe
that it started last week when another associate picked up body lice
from a cloth armchair at the coffee shop next to the hotel.  It
hit me tonight when I absentmindedly left my laptop bag in the back of
my cab on the way home from the airport.  I must accept my own
negligence, since my forgetfulness plays a part in the missing
laptop.  Tomorrow, I must go into the office and eat humble pie
for losing work equipment.  Yikes!

**

As for the election, my candidate did not win.  This is
lamentable, but not a reason to give up hope, or to threaten to
renounce one’s citizenship.  Oddly, I think that Bush is
succeeding in his way of calling for “personal responsibility.”  I
think that when we look back at his administration in 40+ years, the
biggest stamp will be smaller government and less action on behalf of
the public, whether it be selling off public spaces, privatizing social
security, or reducing governmental services.  This will force me
into taking “personal responsibility” out of a sense that I have to
save my money, so that I can buy the public goods (i.e. public
transportation, good schools) that the government used to
provide.  This is nothing new of course, its just a magnification
of the current trend towards privatization.

To boost associate morale, the partner on my case has decided that
unless we are working under a tight deadline, we can go home of the
weekend.  This was probably prompted by a comment by one of my
fellow associates, who dubbed our Portland lives as a “culture of
alcoholism.”  Expense account + being away from home = culture of
alcoholism.

Though doc review is mind-numbing, I have been entertained by the
fiesty middle-aged woman who coordinates doc review for our local
counsel.  She will chew people out for who do not jump out of
their seats when my team requests something.  Plus, when she wants
to get something done, she says, “Don’t make me break out the
vaseline.”  When she feels like swearing, but cannot, she’ll say,
“That grabs me where the hair grows short.”

I’m in Portland now, and will be here for a couple of weeks, if not more.  Does anyone have any restaurant/entertainment suggestions?

Just one of my favorite articles of the week: Conspicuous consumption dooms Veblen’s inconspicuous last home.