My Life, As Told Between (Baby Cakes') Naps

I realize you all are expecting a post about Cabo, but I’m going to hold off on that for a bit because it requires more thinking and judicious editing skills then I’m currently capable of.  Part of the fun was that the weekend was mostly full of silly moments, with flashes of insanity, stupidity, and fear.  (You know those scenes out of a horror movie where you’re thinking, “Those girls are idiots and deserve to die?”)  It’s hard to describe without putting everything in context.  Telling you that we thought it was hilarious to say “grill, grill, grill, grill, grill” at sporadic intervals throughout the weekend means nothing without the entire backstory.  And the entire backstory isn’t nearly as funny unless you are drinking obscene amounts of alcohol as you read it.  So instead, I’m writing about nicknames, a subject that came up often this weekend and a post I’ve alluded to on a couple of occasions.

I love nicknames and am fortunate enough to have creative friends who excel at giving them (a talent that I unfortunately lack).  I collect them as one would souvenirs and look back on them as snapshots of the past.  I have individual nicknames that just apply to me and group nicknames that speak to friendships formed during certain periods of my life.  I have nicknames that run the gamut from cute (Koala) to nonsensical (Lord Alfred), with some extraordinarily appropriate (Napper), no longer so appropriate (Lush), and slightly nauseating (Sweetpea) ones thrown into the mix.  I have several others, but posting about them may reveal my top secret identity.  =) 

I love nicknames because they’re an indication that the people in your life understand you and appreciate you for all your idiosyncrasies and peccadillos (such as a predeliction for pretentious prose).  Nicknames are pieces of who you are and who you used to be.  So, as my public service annoucement of the week, I encourage you to embrace your nicknames for all that they represent.  And to my friends who have gifted me with pieces of myself over the years  – thank you.  A special thank you to the Babydolls and Giggles for making me remember the importance of friendship, fun and following the frog this weekend.  And Angels, I’ll see you next weekend! 

I’m off to Cabo tomorrow so you won’t be hearing from me for the next few days.  See you next week with stories from the trip!  =)  Look for it as part of the new Competitive Posts series since Frog and Wombat are going too. 

Oh, and if anyone was curious about the results of the first contest, we decided not to actually judge the entries, opting to just say something nice about each others’ posts instead.  Because we’re girls and that’s what girls do.  I know it’s been said, but really, we should be running the world. 

I’ve discovered my Rubicon and it’s $200 Shoes.  After choosing an outfit specifically so I could wear my new shoes today, I found myself unable to leave my apartment in them this morning.  I hovered at the threshold of the apartment for several agonizing moments before finally returning to my room and donning a different pair of shoes.  As much as I love them (more then my new pants, but not as much as my new purse), I just can’t spend over $200 for a pair of painful heels that I’ll likely only wear twice.  I am not going to be that person (not to judge people who are those people, some of whom happen to be my friends).  Sigh.  I need to return them soon so this won’t be a daily struggle.  A part of me is crying over their impending loss, but a larger part of me is relieved to retain that portion of my soul for awhile longer.  I’m sure I’ll cross the river of no return eventually, but at least it wasn’t today. 

I have a horrible tendency to get lost.  It doesn’t matter where I’m going, how easy it is to get there, or how often I’ve been there.  Chances are pretty high that I’ll get lost along the way. 

On Friday, I drove from downtown LA to Westwood.  Those of you who are familiar with LA will recognize that this is a fairly simple route.  Those of you who remember I went to UCLA will realize that I actually lived in Westwood for several years.  Those of you who know me well will not be surprised that I ended up hopelessly lost anyways.  I only called for directions when I accidentally hit Venice Beach.  Ordinarily, I’m content to wander the roads of LA, confident that I will eventually find my way to my destination, but when I hit the ocean, that’s a pretty good sign I’m going to need help.  Luckily, I have very patient people in my life who are willing to act as my personal GPS systems. 

On Saturday, I went from a barbeque to a magic show (sidenote:  wore a cocktail dress to the barbeque because the magic show venue required formal attire, ended up smelling like barbeque at the magic show because, well, I was at a barbeque).  Six miles and ninety minutes (!) later, my friend and I finally arrive at the magic show.  Thanks to my impeccable sense of direction, we made a wrong turn every single time a turn was required.  Thanks to the Alicia Keys concert at the Hollywood Bowl and the fact that it’s LA, every mistaken turn took an addition 20 minutes to rectify.  

On Sunday, I went shopping.  Oddly enough, I did not get lost.  I did however (*gulp*) buy more shoes.  I blame this particular purchase on one of my shopping buddies, aka The Enabler.  They’re really, really cute though and only kind of impractical and painful.     

P.S. Notice that I didn’t mention doing any work this weekend.  Yay!!

Here at last is the long awaited COMPETITIVE POST…

A few qualifications before you start judging though.  First, I’m writing this from work after a very long couple of weeks.  Second, I’m a little strung out on coffee…well, tea lattes actually, but being strung out on tea lattes doesn’t sound very cool.  Oh, and my brain hurts a little.  You know.  From all the thinking and whatnot.  Or maybe it’s the cell-phone induced tumor.  Also, the dog ate my homework.  In any case, I know there’s no way that whatever I write will live up to the build-up.  The best I can do is hope you’re not too disappointed by the backstory to this blog.  With all those things in mind, here we go: 

Imagine it.  Cambridge, circa 2004.  I’m graduating from law school.  My friends and I are scattering to the far corners of the world.  And by that I mean California, Chicago, DC, and New York.    

This blog actually started as a series of emails that I sent to close friends (read, “anyone who I thought would remember my name after graduation”) in the summer of 2004 (because anything is better then studying for the Bar).  It eventually dawned on me that my close friends may not want to receive daily emails about what I had for lunch, the state of my hair, or the purse I was currently coveting.  This epiphany came about after I received comments from my friends about how they did not want daily emails about what I had for lunch, the state of my hair, or the purse I was currently coveting.  At that moment, a blog was born.  (*Cue music*)

Throughout the many months of maintaining this site, I’ve learned a lot of interesting things.  For one thing, people are oddly fond of cartoon sheep.  More importantly, I’ve learned that I really like writing this blog and, somewhat surprisingly, there are people out there who actually seem to like reading it.  Clearly, my narcissism is now totally justified.  =)  Strangely enough, I’ve also come to develop an unexpected sense of responsibility towards y’all.  Sometimes I write when I’m disinclined to just because I haven’t in too long and occasionally, as I go through my day, I think, “Hmm.  I should write about that.”  (Although this doesn’t happen all that often as my life is woefully uneventful.)    

I started writing as a means of keeping in touch with far-flung friends.  Or at least keeping them informed of what’s going on in my life (I can only hope they do the same).  Having moved multiple times over the past decade, and inevitably leaving good friends behind, I’ve come to realize that it’s the day to day interactions that keep friendships alive.  I get phone calls or emails when someone’s engaged, pregnant, moving, or graduating, but between those moments are vast stretches of silence.  Those silences make up a life moreso then the noisy defining moments though, and it’s in those silences that friendships and relationships are lost.  So that was the real reason I started this blog and the real reason I love reading blogs in general.  I find the minutiae of my friends’ lives fascinating because it makes me feel like I’m still a part of their existence, despite the distance, and that they’re still a part of mine.  I hope you all feel the same way reading this blog. 

(Frog and Wombat, consider the very long-winded gauntlet thrown.)  =) 

You’ve probably noticed, but the blog looks a little different today.  While I loved the old green pallet, it wasn’t super user-friendly.  This new blue one is a bit too “girly” for me, but allows me to put up links and has a calendar for archived posts (in case anyone really, really wants to know what was going on in my life on December 11, 2004 – answer:  nothing).  Also, I’m fickle and was getting bored of the old look.  Anyways, enjoy the links!  Some are fun.  Some are informative.  Some are just dumb and truly nothing more then a waste of time.  None are billable. 

Also, keep an eye out for the first in what may be a new feature on this blog:  Competitive Posts.  Two of my friends, ML and CH (aka Frog and Wombat), and I have decided to liven things up on our respective blogs by participating in a posting contest (because nothing’s worth doing unless someone loses).  Once a month or so, we’ll all write on the same topic to see who comes up with the best entry.  Our first topic – the wonderful world of blogging (what we think of it, why we do it, what we write about, etc.).   It’ll be a tight race, as they’re both wonderful, witty writers! 

Which is my way of saying no, this blog is not dead.  I’ve just been too busy to write much of anything lately.  Now, usually even when I’m busy I find plenty of time to waste (I firmly believe wasting time is actually a valuable endeavor), but lately it’s been the kind of busy where things have to get out the door quickly.  Don’t think I’ve managed to have this thing people refer to as “lunch,” even at my desk, in the last two weeks.  I also think I may be developing an ulcer.  Of course, I’m somewhat of a hypochondriac and am convinced my microwave is giving me skin cancer and my cell phone is slowly causing a brain tumor to develop, despite the fact that there is absolutely no evidence or symptoms of any of the above happening.  (Note that despite my belief that modern day conveniences are slowly killing me, I am making no attempt to decrease their usage.  Because that would be actual work and therefore anathema to my deeply held belief that the easiest route is the best route.) 

Stay tuned for upcoming posts.  Future possible topics include:  nonsensical nicknames, my perplexing ability to get lost driving even the most familiar of routes, why women love shoes, future travel plans, the trauma that is swimsuit season, more office stories, and maybe even what I had for lunch (when this lunch thing starts happening again). 

My litigation team is swamped.  I haven’t come up for air in the last couple of weeks, and I have the least to do out of all of us.  We’re losing a mid-level associate this week to a too-good-to-pass-up job opportunity and lost the other first year a month ago to the transactional folks in our office.  As a result, I’m doing the work of two first years while simultaneously being groomed to take on mid-level responsibilities.  In one of my many conversations with JP, the junior partner, in which he’s telling me everything I did wrong on the latest assignment (believe it or not, these sessions are actually super-helpful, although a crushing blow to my ego), he mentioned the team was counting on me to learn quickly and to absorb all this information like a sponge.  I didn’t have the heart to tell him my memory is more like swiss cheese.  Besides, I imagine he’ll find out on his own soon enough.    

Funny moment I almost forgot to mention:  In the course of discussing how overwhelmed we all were, I told JP that I couldn’t wait for the new second year associate to start.  JP’s response?  “Why?  She’ll just be another you.”  This sounds horribly insulting and mean in writing, but was only mildly insulting and a little mean in person.  What he meant by that was, “I really need another me right now to do all this work, rather then another person I have to supervise and train.  Please don’t take offense as you are actually a brilliant first year.”  Well, I’m sure that’s what he really meant anyways.  =)

Do you have a kid I can borrow?  (Preferably one shorter then I am?)  It can be a son, sister, cousin, nephew, etc.  I’m not picky.  It’s just that I’m horribly addicted to all things animation and the DreamWorks movie Madagascar is coming out soon.  I hear there are cute scene-stealing penguins involved.  Scene-stealing penguins, people!  Clearly, I have to see this movie.  I’m one of those people who hate going to children’s movies without a child in tow though, and my younger sisters are both in their early twenties and will no longer cut it, especially now that they’re both taller I am.  Even the bibs and pacifiers don’t seem to be fooling anyone anymore.  Sigh.  Anyways, I promise to return your child as soon as the movie’s over.  Or as soon as it gets fussy.  Whichever comes first.

My mom is adorable.  I called her (from the office, where I’m spending most of today) to wish her a happy mother’s day.  Her response was a rather distracted, “Oh, thanks!  Love you, gotta go.”  I wonder if there’s a game on today?  The only time she’s noticably distracted is when I call in the middle of a football, basketball, or baseball game.  For as long as I’ve known her (i.e., my entire life), she’s been an avid sports fan.  All 4’11” and 89 pounds of her.  Although usually rather quiet and a little reserved (she once got up and moved to another bench at the airport when the mother of one of my best friends was too talkative), she’s capable of cursing with the best of them when caught up in a sports frenzy.  She’s almost always practical and not one to make a fuss about anything, but occasionally shows a streak of whimsy.  For example, one of my earliest memories is of my parents, relatively new immigrants, trying to play along with the very American concept of Santa.  In the face of my unrelenting questions, my mom readily confessed that Santa didn’t exist and she didn’t know why Americans lied to their kids.  On the other hand, she had me convinced for years that if you drop something, but pick it up quickly and twirl it around, the germs will get dizzy and fall off.  

My mom is up in northern California and I’m still stuck in LA, but I hope you all are able to spend some time with your mothers on Mother’s Day!

Despite the fairly high monthly rent, my apartment doesn’t actually seem to meet the warrant of habitability. (For non-lawyers, the warrant of habitability is basically the landlord’s implied obligation to keep the the rental property in a livable condition by providing electricity, heating, plumbing, workable elevators, etc. Or something to that effect.) As I’ve already shared, the electricity is prone to going out, which effects the heating, hot water, etc. The plumbing’s always shaky (I was going to make a joke about how it’s a crap shoot, but am more mature then that). I’ve been told by previous tenants they believe there were termites, although I haven’t seen evidence of that yet. The elevator, when it’s working, jerks before it starts descending. Every morning, I ponder whether it’s worth my life to avoid taking six flights of stairs. And when the electricity’s out, the elevators don’t work at all and the stairs are plunged into stygian darkness. I wonder then if it’s worth my life to get up to my apartment. After all, the lobby is about as inhabitable as my apartment.

On the other hand, moving’s a hassle and I’m lazy.
I wonder which will give first. My ability to tolerate virtually inhumane conditions or my abject laziness?

1) The wave. As anyone will tell attest to (with very little prompting), I’m not a particularly good driver. I’m not horrible, but I get lost easier then most, I don’t always pay as much attention as I should, and I hate surprises. In my defense however, I strive to be a very considerate driver. To the extent I can reasonably do so, I let other people into my lane. I signal. I don’t tailgate. I WAVE when someone slows down to let me into their lane. If anything, I over-wave. I wave it if looks like the thought at least crossed their mind that they should have slowed down to let me in. Or if they would have slowed down if they weren’t already a safe ten miles behind me. Ocean aside, I have not seen a single wave in the eight months I’ve lived in LA. Really, would it kill people to acknowledge other drivers? (I assume the same fear causes people not to use their turn signals in LA.)

2) Electricity. I live in a rather densly populated area of LA and the electricity only occasionally functions in our area. According to my roommate, it’s out again and has been long enough to turn all of my food to mush and necessitate an emergency run to the grocery store on my way home from work. I don’t know what people in my neighborhood are doing all day that sucks up all of my electricity, but I sure wish they would stop it.

I had dinner with a good friend of mine this weekend. Normally, she’s a brilliant, poised, accomplished woman. On Friday, I saw her turn into a giggling twelve-year old girl in front of my eyes. It was really quite astonishing. One minute we were discussing the state of the world (or something equally meaningful, I’m sure). The next, a boy she likes happened into the restaurant with a couple of his friends as we were getting ready to leave. After a short conversation (they were being seated, the restaurant was crowded and we were all in the way), we exited the restaurant and ducked into a nearby Rite Aid, where I watch my brilliant, poised, accomplished friend fall apart. Within minutes, she’s transformed into a shaking, excited (but still cute) mess, and we’re scheming like two pre-teens on how to meet up with them after their dinner. Being a good friend, and with less to lose, I bravely ventured forth into the restaurant we had just vacated and brazenly asked them to join us for drinks after dinner. They did, and a fun evening was had by all. I rock (*pat on the back*).

Also, I was supposed to go hiking this weekend, but at the merest suggestion of rain, I bailed. I am so not hardcore. Sigh. LA has softened me considerably. D*mn you LA!