I'm a big girl now!

I watched Juno the other night, finally. Really liked it. But there was a scene that got me thinkin, which doesn't usually produce good outcomes. The scene was where Juno tells her stepmom that she hung out with the guy who made up half of the couple who were going to adopt Juno's baby, and that he was really cool, played guitar, etc. The stepmom then says that it's not right to hang out with a married man and that there are rules.

What are these rules? Where can I get a copy?

Other than a glib thought that, in 2008, a woman should be able to be friends with anyone she wants, including married folks regardless of gender, I've never really thought about the propriety or impropriety of friendships with those in marriages or serious relationships. When I was a preteen, I remember my mom saying that proximity breeds desire. I thought that was just old-woman-crazytalk back then, but now I think there's something to that. Think about interoffice romances, the boss doing his secretary, Jim and Pam, Dwight and Angela. Think about Jaime Gumm: We covet what we see every day.

Now that I'm in the most mature relationship of my life (mature as in we are both trying to act unchildish, not mature as in we are both approaching middle age, for Christ's sake), I no longer act like the cool girlfriend (Mental Note: blog about that later). I see that it's necessary to be vulnerable, to express emotion, to let the other person know I appreciate him and think about him. And I found all this out when I met pretty much my equal in this relationship. He can be as hard-to-read and aloof and fiercely independant as I am. A good friend of mine characterized our early relationship as 2 icebergs colliding. Yikes. But now we both talk about our hopes for this relationship and about each other. It feels like a new & different place for me, but it's warm & comforting too.

Mrs.

So, a couple weeks ago, I thought it would be a good idea to volunteer for my 5th grader's field trip to Marshy Point for a "hands-on experience with nature, get ready to get wet!" (that's what the permission slip said) Now, in my 20's, that description would be supremely exciting, but now, not so much. Anyway, I did get chosen from among the throngs of excited parent volunteers. Oh boy! No, it'll be fun and I'll have done my penance for all those evenings I've been spending working on cases, instead of playing Uno.

In anticipation of the field trip, my 5th grader brought home a sheet of paper today listing the parent and his/her assigned handful of children to watch over while at Marshy Point. The paper referred to the parents by a Mr or Mrs and then their last name. So, I am Mrs. Hugh. I married myself, apparently. What happened to Ms., goddamnit? Women don't need to be married to have a child, jackasses. Hello, the 1950's called and they want their rigid, backward notion of a traditional family back, before Mrs. Cleaver has changed into a dress, chilled the gin, and put the pot roast on the table.

Happy

What is happiness? It has to be a static state of being. Watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy and eating a bag of salt & vinegar chips while drunk may be happiness for, oh I don't know who, but it may be pure nerdy misery for others. And when you try to define happiness in a relationship - holy hell, everything (and nothing) goes.

More to come... there's a scheduled outage now.

Do this right now

* Grab the nearest book.
* Open the book to page 56.
* Find the fifth sentence.
* Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions if you want to.
* Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.

Here's mine: "The documents listed are intended to be illustrative and not all inclusive." (Mitchie's Annotated Code of Maryland, Commercial Law 1-202, comment 2)

My New Job Status

The other day I met with a woman who wanted me to represent her son, who is currently being held pending trial, for a misdemeanor assault. She was Greek and didn't speak English; her other son was also in the room and he translated. I asked her all sorts of questions and then she asked me if he could be locked up for good. She was crying as she asked that question. She didn't want him to go to jail; she wanted him to get psychiatric help. Of course the answer to her question was "no" but it really makes me think about a mother's love for her child.

This guy stole from her, pushed her around some, and has put her through a lot of grief while he accrued a long list of arrests. And yet the thought of not being able to see her son reduces her to tears. I'm sure the cynics among us would say that she didn't raise him right, or she's being dramatic. I can't think that way. As much as people in general tend to annoy me, I do see potential in people, a capacity to hope for better things. The day I start hating people in general is the day I will no longer be a proper mother to my girls. It is also the day that I will buy a gun. Just kidding.

And when it came to my fees - the part I hate the most so far about practicing law - the woman pulled out a white envelope and handed me cash, telling me to take care of her son. No pressure there.

Here I am

I am really startled to see I haven't posted in a month. Here's what's new and what's still the same:

1. I am now my own boss ("self-unemployed" is how my boyfriend refers to it). Check out my website: www.hughlegal.com. I have business cards and everything. Whoohoo.

2. I like being able to walk my kids to school in the morning and walk back with them in the afternoon.

3. I've started reusing plastic Ziploc baggies, just like dear old mom. I hated it when she did that as I was growing up. I remember thinking something along the lines of "I don't want to bring my used sandwich bags home so you can use them again in tomorrow's lunch. I hate it when my apples smell like yesterday's bologna sandwich. Jesus Christ, could you stop being so f-ing cheap and just throw the bags away? And for that matter, could you stop buying toilet paper with the same thickness as pantyhose?"

4. My daughter's guinea pig is a crap machine. The moment it gets put back in its cage after new bedding has been put down, it runs around the cage, dropping curiously uniformly-sized pellets all over the goddamned place, like F2 bombers spreading George Bush's joy all over the Middle East.

5. I feel like I have no time to return phone calls or have an actual social life and yet, I also feel like I waste so much time agonizing over tiny details. Maybe I have adult-onset obsessive-compulsive disorder. See how I use all those hyphens? Notice how I thought the guinea pig poop was "curiously uniformly-sized"?

6. The gym teacher at my kids' elementary school is pretty hot. He stands by the safety patrol in the morning and says hi as I walk by with my kids. His shoulders look good in the fitted polo shirts he wears. It's the stuff of good pornos. Not the bad ones featuring whores with dirty feet and ugly men, always one guy with a ponytail, one with a mustache, and at least one with zits - the kind of porn that leaves me gagging (not for THAT reason, you dirty, dirty thing) and repulsed by intercourse in general.

7. Physically, I think Michael Phelps is the male equivalent of Sarah Jessica Parker.

8. I want to go to a Ravens game soon (and often). Also, I need a team jersey.

Hire me

Does anyone need any legal work done? You can be my first real client... I can form corporations, file family law matters, handle personal injury or worker's compensation matters, draft wills, trusts, powers of attorney, most anything. Please?

Beds we lie on

I got sole custody, physical and legal. I felt sad for my ex afterwards, for the choices he's made in life, or perhaps the dearth of choices he's actually made. He's missed a 7 year old Suz swimming in her first swim meet, winning the championship relay for her age group. He's missed a 5 year old Char crying at her first soccer game because she can't score a goal every time she shoots. He's missed Suz's very first band concert, where she played clarinet in public for the first time and where she looked so grownup, I almost cried. And he's still missing events.

Years down the road, I wonder if he'll even know what he's missed.

Grown-up Stuff

Tomorrow I'm going to a pendente lite hearing for child custody and support. I've been going through documents and receipts all morning, to prepare. It seems sort of unreal, as though I'm preparing for a hearing scene in a movie or a play - I need to be ready, but it doesn't seem like it's happening in the real world.

By the way, my boyfriend and my ex met each other this past Saturday at my girls' birthday party. It was weird, to say the least. My BF didn't like my ex at all, called him scum and drug addict, though not to his face. He's an overreactor, quick to anger; thumbs up. But, the party went very well and my girls had a lot of fun.

Hi, MIA

I haven't posted in such a long time, I feel weird.

Freeze my head, please

I turn 35 tomorrow. I have mixed feelings about it. I wish I knew the little I know now, when I was younger. Here's a list of the things I would tell the me in my 20's:

1. Everyone will always have an opinion about what you do, wear, or say, and those opinions will never, ever be one of uniform support. So, while you may not be able to forget about what others think, at least try to enjoy everything you're doing while you're doing it.

2. You don't have to be the world's premier expert at something to continue to do it.

3. Failing does NOT mean you are a failure.

4. You do not need to lose any weight.

5. Don't give your amazing dog, Truman, away after you have children.

6. Be choosy about who you date. Don't be flattered just because some guy talks to you.

7. You are attractive and have a lot to offer. Stand tall and be proud of yourself.

8. Call your youngest sister. Remember that you love her.

9. Even if you have to beg, borrow, or steal, scrape up enough money to attend the destination wedding of your best friend from high school.

10. You are capable of making smart decisions and controlling your destiny.

11. Find a little company that goes by the name Google, Inc. in Menlo Park, California (Palo Alto, after 1999). Offer to enter data, answer phones, mop the floors, clean the bathrooms, anything in exchange for stock options.

12. You're not shallow by thinking you need money to be happy - you're smart. While money doesn't guarantee happiness, it sure makes it easier to find happiness.

13. I've sent you $7000 via a time machine that looks like your microwave. Use the cash to get a boob job. A really good one. And don't go with the double Ds.

No. 1 Kitchen

I love my power drill. I thought lovingly about it this morning, recalling the ease with which I drilled holes for the handles in my new kitchen cabinets last night. The drill also screws in screws in a marvelously quick and easy fashion. Anything that makes a job quick and easy is A, number 1 in my book. That's why I love my egg steamer/toaster, microwave, dishwasher, hand blender, apple corer, Google, email, text messaging, and DVR/Tivo.

My contractor is here right now, putting in my sink! I am so happy about that. It's a beautiful new sink too - glossy white porcelain, farmhouse-style. I couldn't be more pleased with it. My kitchen is mostly modern, toned down by some cottage-y elements - stainless steel appliances, plain white cabinetry with stainless steel handles, steel cabinet legs in lieu of toekicks, shelving on the walls instead of wall cabinets, butcher block countertops, farmhouse sink, wood floors. I'm thinking of painting one wall a pumpkin/paprika color, one wall a faint sky blue, and the others a glossy white.

Yes, I am aware this post sounds very pretentious and yuppie. HOWEVER, I chose everything for its reasonable price. I didn't get marble or granite countertops, although I love the look of white Carrera marble. My cabinets are from Ikea and are not custom-made. I assembled and put the cabinets in myself. My dad and I gutted the kitchen. So, anyway, when it's all done, you're all invited over for a kitchen-warming party! And I'm not even registered at Pottery Barn.

Some stuff

Had my first interview today. I liked them very much, particularly the hiring partner, who is a very well-regarded litigator in this state. They said good things, like "If we don't call you right away, don't think we're not interested. We go slowly on these things." And "If you get another offer from another firm, call us right away and we'll speed up the process." And "You'll find that you'll have no problem meeting your billable hours." Sounds promising, but I won't be excited until I get a call that goes something like "Welcome to the firm! You'll be making twice what you're currently making, i.e. a living wage!"

Blahblah. I feel blah today, overwhelmed a bit, out of sorts. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I have no functioning kitchen at the moment (getting new cabinets & sink put in) and I have to wash my dishes in the bathroom sink.

I am not Demi Moore

The Judge has a new intern, who is 23 years old, entering his second year of law school, has lovely white teeth, and looks smashing in a business suit. My co-clerk and I went to lunch with him today and, there, found out that he can cook the perfect omelet, make a good cup of coffee, eat, wash the dishes, and be out the door, all within 10 minutes' time. Have mercy.

1 for 3

Got an interview for next Tuesday at a firm downtown. It's the 19th largest law firm in Baltimore, around 45 attorneys.

Father's Day

Yesterday, my dad came over to my house while my girls were at their paternal grandparents' house. He came over bearing tools and the capability to help me tear out my kitchen cabinets. I saw him at the front door and I was sort of shocked at how little my dad looked. Short, slim, old. Briefly, I felt sad, but brushed that feeling away like a cobweb in my face. It was the first father-daughter time we've had in decades, probably. We worked in silence, me taking out the cooktop stove, him taking out the garbage disposal and sink plumbing. He liked my supply of tools in my Bucket Boss organizer. He also said that I do good work on this sort of thing for a girl; these are both great complements from my dad, so inside I felt all shiny.

When my girls came home, Char had made a card for her dad, who she did not see. I don't know what he was doing, but he didn't visit with the girls. Maybe there was an emergency in the dog food aisle. She also took $1.00 of her allowance, made her granddad take her to the store, and bought her dad one of those chocolate-covered cherries wrapped in red foil, the kind you can buy just one of, near the cash registers ("Because Daddy LOVES those!"). I can't bear to look at the card, because I know what's in there. Every year, Char makes a card for her dad, and on the inside is a drawing of her holding hands with him. There are birds flying all around, the sun is happily shining, and bees are buzzing around. My heart breaks for her every year.

I need a J-O-B

I sent out some resumes earlier this week, to law firms in Baltimore, Towson, and Rockville. As of today, I've heard back from 2 firms, both indicating that they aren't looking for new associates at this time. I'm 0 for 2.

Baby, it's cold in here

I've been accused of being "cold" by at least 3 guys I've dated in the past. I always snickered inside when I heard that, those little girly wimps. There's nothing wrong with being cold, if it means being able to figure out when it's time to end the relationship and move swiftly into and through the breakup. There's no reason whatsoever to dwell on the past; I've never been a mourner. Yes, I have regrets, but I cannot, will not, and do not revisit those regrets with "would'ves" and "should'ves." And because I don't mourn relationships, I don't get sad or angry or jealous. That's great. But I'm not sure I get deliriously, silly happy either. Maybe that notion of what is good existing only because of the existence of what is bad is true. Maybe God only exists because the devil exists (I hate this analogy, because I'm not sure there is a God, much less a devil, and even if both did exist, it still doesn't make God seem all that good all the time). Maybe the cool breeziness of autumn exists only because of the sweltering heat of summer. Maybe clean laundry exists only because you have to go through the horror of sorting, stain-removing, washing, drying, folding, and putting away.

I'll be 35 soon. What am I doing? Where am I going? What does friendship mean? What does trusting another human being entail? Where do I begin and my fears end?

Bad Soccer Mom

When my daughter plays soccer, or any sport for that matter, I feel competitive with the other parents, as if success on the recreational soccer team means success as a parent. Mind you, my daughter is 7 years old and collects stuffed lambs and those plastic gift cards from various stores. She is also really smart (a genius, really. sniff.) and, quite honestly, beautiful. Look:

But the moment she steps onto the field, my eyes are glued on her for the rest of the game, practice, whathaveyou. I'm surprised she doesn't shield her eyes from my laser-beam stare. I love how she watches the ball and the moment there's an opening among all the frantically kicking legs, takes the ball, dribbles it down field, and scores. I'm pleased that my offspring has come out on top. Maybe it's my own personal mini-Darwinism, maybe it's the fact that I'm living vicariously through my daughter, who will feel such pressure due to this, that she will become an art history major and then work as a barista in Seattle somewhere.

I hate OPEC

I filled up my gas tank this morning - 17 gallons, $67.

Indiana Jones and the Quest for Lost Youth

A couple mornings ago, my girls and I were sitting around the breakfast (lunch, dinner, snack)table, eating cereal and reading the backs of the cereal boxes. One of my girls points of a picture on one of the boxes and asked, "Who's this?" It was Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones. She then said, in disbelief, "THAT'S Indiana Jones?! How come he looks so OLD?" And, you know what, he did look old. But I felt sort of defensive, so I said something like, "Well, in the earlier movies, he was really young and handsome." My girls had stopped listening to me, because, well, I sounded like an old lady at that point. I was actually pretty shocked at how much Indy really had aged. In my mind, Indy was always such a dreamy college professor/archaeologist/action figure/down to earth/hero/rescuer. I guess he still is, but after that cereal box, I tell you, I'm going to have to watch the earlier movies so I can be reminded of his dreaminess.

Still no pills

Very, very soon, I need to revise my resume and send them to law firms. I can't start my own firm - I can barely keep up with the laundry. But then I start thinking about all those inspirational quotes that say stuff like "Never quit!" or "Don't allow 'can't' into your vocabulary!" and I feel like I should just take a risk and do it. Then I think about how I need to be able to hire a nanny this fall, so my kids don't become latchkey kids at age 8 and 10, and then I think it's just safer and wiser to work for someone else.

Another thing that's been on my mind is this whole blending of families thing. I've got my 2 girls; he's got his cat. I'm serious about the cat thing - it's a whole big issue. If we were to live together, I'm allergic to cats, so he's concerned about having to make a "choice". I'm sorry, but, Jesus Christ, I can't believe I'm competing with a cat. I understand he's had the cat for over 17 years, but to even have it be a choice is rather insulting to me. It's not like he'd have to get rid of the cat, just leave it at his mom's house. Once he compared his cat to my kids, and asked me if I'd be happy about making a choice about leaving my kids. I tried really, really hard not to laugh and also yell at him.

Ran out of pills this morning

Father's Day has always been a weird holiday for me. Here's a little narrative that has evolved in my mind as the years have gone by:

"Hi, here you go - it's a necktie. Yeah, I know you've only worn a tie twice ever in your life, once at Susan's wedding, and once at your wedding, and that you never had to wear one to the office because you didn't work in an office. I know you could probably buy a necktie factory for yourself, but... enjoy! Yeah, I'll never make as much money as you have, but thanks for making so many sacrifices so that I could have more opportunities than you ever had. That is a source of genuine guilt for me and the biggest indicator of your love. You have no idea how many nights I've stayed up thinking about all the time, youth, happiness, and health you've lost. Also, the tie is a symbolic gift, a sort of notice to you that I felt so constricted by you as a young girl. I wanted you to pay attention to me as a person, not just as a disappointing, A minus student. I wanted to you to, just once, tell me I looked pretty. I wanted you to take me fishing a second time, even though I frustrated you on the first and only trip by not learning as fast as you wanted me to. Ok, so Happy Father's Day! I brought chocolate croissants!"

I Heart JP

My favorite person today is Jay Payton, the Orioles outfielder who hit a grandslam against the Red Sox last night, securing a clean series sweep. Love it.

9 consecutive rainy days make me grumpy

You know what? If I hear or see one more thing about Jenna Bush's wedding, I swear I'm going to go crazy like Michael Douglas in the movie "Falling Down". WHO CARES ABOUT JENNA BUSH GETTING MARRIED?! Christ. I love the jackasses in Texas who made souvenirs to sell to tourists. Look at these gems:










And this photo just screams, "Thank you, may I have another?"

No hat

I'm not buying a hat for Preakness - a hat which I'd wear once, so I can mingle with people who buy and sell horses (which they call "ponies") and own BMW's that retail for twice as much as my first house in Hampden. Maybe I should do as the natives do and drink about 12 Black-Eyed Susans and stumble around in my 3 1/2 inch heels. And I have this fantasy about Marilyn Manson and his creepy entourage crashing the clubhouse like in the Tainted Love video.

Horses and Hats

Merriam-Webster defines "yuppie" as a young college-educated adult who is employed in a well-paying profession and who lives and works in or near a large city. One website describes yuppies in this manner:

Dispensing of the social causes of their more passionate parents, yuppies tend
to be 9-5 professional workers. Because of this, some people see them as sellouts. Yuppies tend to value material goods (especially trendy new things). ... Unfortunately, the fast paced pursuit of these material goods has unintended consequences. Usually in a hurry, they seek convenience goods as services. Being "time poor", their family relations can become difficult to sustain. Maintaining their way of life is mentally exhausting.

Wow. Well, that being said, I think I'm going to Preakness next weekend and I need a fancy hat and sundress. Let me know if anyone has either I can borrow, because, while I am not a yuppie because I am poor, I like to play one on tv. I liken myself to the hooker Julia Roberts played in Pretty Woman, who used Richard Gere's credit card to go on a fabulous shopping spree and then went to a polo match in that cute brown polka-dotted dress and brown hat. Except for the hooker part.

Smooshed

We had an amazing time in Puerto Rico. The resort was smashing:




The resort's private island, which we snorkeled to, was smashing:

And, the guy was smashing:

Manic stuff

I'm getting a little manic right now as I pack for PR. Just 10 minutes ago, I saw that I was wiping the kitchen floor with a paper towel. Also, every trashcan in the house has been emptied and all the laundry is done. When I'm done packing, I'm going to go through the house and unplug all the unused electrical appliances. And there is a note on the mailbox that indicates all overflow mail should go in the plastic box provided, directly under the mailbox.

I tried on my bathing suits today so I could steel myself to the horror. My ass looks hideous, more jiggly than I've ever seen it - ever. I know I'm my worst critic. And my critic says, "Work that ass OUT!" Blah.

I tucked my little girls into bed at my mom's house tonight, gave them big hugs and kisses, and told them I was going to PR to scope it out, so that we can all come together next time. I miss them already.

I need some sleep. That's what the beach is for...

Wax on

In anticipation of my trip, I got waxed this afternoon. Yeah, I got the Brazilian, so there'll be no Hanging Gardens of Babylon (google it, if you need to). Holy crap, that burned like a M-F'er. Also, I was naked from the waist down, showing my goods to a total stranger - a common scenario when I was in my early 20's, but not so much these days. That's a joke. Seriously. Don't judge.

Take me away

Next week, I'm going away to the beaches of Puerto Rico with my excellent boyfriend! Here's where we're staying. And he suggested we visit the spa while we're there - he just might be the perfect man.

Racquet/Racket

I played tennis yesterday for the first time in about 15 or 16 years. I use the word "played" very loosely, but, oh man, was it fun. I'm going to teach my girls how to play, and then they will be the Asian version of the Williams sisters, and I will be their manager. How fabulous will that be?!

Paint

The previous owners of my house loved stenciling so much, they stenciled lovely floral patterns along the tops of the walls throughout the house. Obviously, someone took much time and great care to hand-trace flowers, then color them in in various shades of pink and lime green. After I moved in, the first thing I did was paint over these stencils.

Unfortunately, the paint color I chose for my front hallway, called "Field Linen", was supposed to be a pale straw color. However, it turned out to be more the shade of pale straw lightly misted in Pepto Bismol. So, over the weekend I experimented with new colors.

Paint try-on #1: Dark, dark olive green. Going for a dramatic, sort-of enveloping feeling when you walk in the front door. Gorgeous color, but way too dark for a hallway that gets very little sunlight.

Paint try-on #2: Very pale mint green. Think it's called "Spring Whisper". I painted it on this morning before I left for work, and hated it - too white, washed out. Maybe I'll think differently tonight when I get back, since it's had time to cure all day.

I think I'll try to find that pale straw color on the third go-around.

I will die alone

My friend, C, told me last night that he was reconciling with his wife of 7 years. This is the wife who, about 2 years ago, cheated on him repeatedly and span a huge web of lies, thus completely tearing his heart into tiny little pieces and rendering him virtually useless to other women. He never stopped loving her and always wanted her back. Well, happy day, because 2 weeks ago, she told him over drinks that she was ready to get back together with him.

I'm still stunned. I said very little to him after he told me; I asked logical questions about trusting her again, what's changed in her, what'll be different this time around. However, I didn't say he was crazy. And I didn't tell him that if he did go back to her, things between us would be different. Different how? Different in the fact that I will let go of a small, crazy, persistent belief that one day he and I would end up together. Different in the fact that I can no longer list him as my emergency contact. Different in the fact that, while he has regained his hope of being with someone he wanted to end up with, I have lost my hope in the very same thing. By the way, he also told me that he wanted to grow old with her in the worst possible way. So, today I woke up and, not to sound melodramatic, but everything seems slightly askew - everything is really the same, but I feel like I'm walking around slightly sideways.

Good night

I just pulled an all-nighter finishing up an opinion for the judge. I finished at 5:20 this morning and emailed it to him - hope he sees the time stamp and thinks about what a dedicated, hard-worker I am (really it's my own goddamn fault for surfing the internet at the office instead of actually working during lucid-human business hours). I see the sky has just started to lighten, just in time for me to shower and go to sleep.

Hmmm, maybe I won't go to bed. Maybe I'll just stay up, because really, I'm not sleepy. I am hungry though, so I'm going to eat a bagel I got from Wegman's. Maybe I'll eat my bagel and watch an episode of Eli Stone that I've DVR'ed. For a second, I thought about going to my gym, which stays open 24 hours during the week. Maybe I'll do all these things, only really, really slowly.

Law Office of Me?

I've been seriously thinking about starting my own law practice. I need to sit down, clear my head, and figure out why I want to do this and how I can make it happen.

Gimme

Today, I got a message at work that someone from HR had called for me. Immediately I start thinking that maybe I've come in late too many times or that I shouldn't work offsite as much or that the judge is firing me. When I return the HR person's call, she begins our conversation this way: "I don't have my notes in front of me, but you should know that I've already discussed this with the judge..." Just as I was about to pee in my pants, she goes on to tell me that the budget and accounting department has discovered that I've been underpaid since I started working at the court, and that I'm owed a nice piece of cash. I bet she expected me to be pissed, because she kept apologizing, but, let me tell you, I feel like I bought a winning scratch-off!

FYI

Flights to and from Pensacola (pictured), Sarasota, West Palm Beach, and Tampa are $99 each way. Miami is $109. San Diego and Vegas are $159.

I want my stimulus money now.

My New Haircut

Oh yeah, baby! I busted out laughing at work because of these:


Check this out first - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JMOh-cul6M


Then this - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UNfyBqrAaPk&feature=related

I like shiny things

Yesterday, after work, I went to a bar near my house and drank a dirty Grey Goose martini, then went shopping at Loehman's. I love that place.


I bought this lovely patent leather handbag by Kenneth Cole:


I feel fabulous walking down the street with it.

Nonsense

The Maryland State Senate is cookoo for cocoapuffs. After a preliminary vote of approval yesterday, the Senate is likely, this week or next, to push back the implementation of a law banning dishwasher detergent containing phosphorus. What this means is that big companies (like Proctor & Gamble in Hunt Valley) get an extra 6 months to comply with the law, and so, phosphorus will continue to be leaked into the Chesapeake bay until July of 2010 - 7.5 tons of it. That's 7.5 tons that would not otherwise be dumped in our waters. I have no idea why these companies need over 2 years to remove this ingredient. I went to Target two days ago and bought Cascade brand phosphorus-free dishwasher detergent. Also, Trader Joe's carries its own brand. I see no reason why P&G needs any extra time.

Why is excessive phosphorus bad for the Chesapeake? It encourages excessive algae growth, which blocks out sunlight to the lower depths and reduces oxygen for blue crabs, fish, and other Bay creatures.

Meanwhile, individual freedom is being invaded. Everyone will probably have to go out and buy Bluetooth headsets so we can use our cell phones in our cars (hello, BestBuy, thanks for contributing to the campaign), and we can no longer text in our cars. Also, we won't be able to video gamble (not that I do, but now I can't even if I wanted to) at local bars anymore, because none of the revenue goes back to the government, and also, it'll probably interfere with slots revenues in the future. I almost forgot the best part - speed cameras all over the place!

Does it need definition?

What is cheating?

Last week, I had lunch with a guy pal of mine and, of course, we discussed the whole Spitzer-hooker thing. Then the conversation evolved/devolved into what cheating means: Is a blowjob cheating? What about phone sex? What about going to a strip club?

He had a very loose definition of cheating. He said sex with a third party involving emotions is definitely cheating, but here are things he said were either NOT cheating or was noncommittal about: hiring hookers, getting a handjob from a masseuse, phone sex with a third party, getting a lapdance, talking dirty with someone face-to-face.

And I felt like an old lady, because I was unable to say, flat-out, that X,Y, and Z is cheating or A,B, and C is cheating. I said, and still believe, that even holding hands (hear me out) with another person could be considered cheating, because cheating goes to your state of mind. I think that an act that would be a dealbreaker for some would be no big deal for others.

So what is cheating, to me? Ok, if I asked my boyfriend what he did last night, and he did something with another woman that he is afraid to tell or uncomfortable about telling me, then he cheated. Period. To me, the deciding factors are his state of mind, his intent in acting as he did, and whether he could reasonably have believed that he was keeping the loyalty and trust between us intact.

And, while the meaning of cheating is not black and white, the effect of cheating is, in my book. I cannot abide disloyalty. I know me, and if I stayed with someone who cheated on me, I would never be able to respect his decision-making capacity, and would always question his devotion, his word, his promises. I don't need my significant other to call me twice a day or always include me in activities with his friends, but what I do need, and will not bend on, is that he keep the promises he makes. And if or when there comes a point where he can't keep a promise, then he needs to tell me before he acts, so that at least I will have a valid decision to make in the relationship.

Blahblahblah.

I Heart Google

I want to work for Google. Fortune magazine listed Google as the #1 best company to work for in 2007 and 2008. And after learning more about the perks of being an employee of the world's largest internet search engine, I can see why. Here is a list of benefits:

• solar panels convert sunlight into clean electricity that fuels Google's operations
• Employees are encouraged to move around within the company. This is perfect for me, since I get bored easily with the same job, same activities over and over again. Google will prevent carpal tunnel syndrome in my brain.
• on-site lap pool, huge company gym, beach volleyball, roller hockey in the parking lot (i don't play volleyball or roller hockey - YET)
• pet-friendly; I'd be able to bring my hypothetical new puppy.
• 11 free gourmet, organic cafeterias
• pajama days
• 99% of employees hold stock options; a single share of Google stock costs more than $700 (right now, I can afford to buy, let's see... 1 share, if I don't pay any of my utilities this month)
• free on-site medical care from real doctors
• free company shuttle services from 5 Bay area locations
• car washes & oil changes for employees who drive
• on-site hair salon
• reimbursement up to $500 for takeout food for new parents
• personal concierge services
• FREE on-site childcare. This alone is worth it.
• free use of washers & dryers; dry cleaning service also available
• motorized scooters for employees to use as they move around the Google campus
• company property is referred to as a "campus"
• company bookmobile (yes, I'm a total nerd)

The Mistress

I'm going through a mid-blog crisis, so I'm trying out a new blogsite. I'm sorry, LiveJournal, I swear, it's not you, it's me. Plus, I just couldn't resist Blogger's layouts, colors, and good looks, not to mention Blogger does not force me to either pay or place advertising. Don't hate me. I'll remember the good times: http://legalfiction33.livejournal.com/