CallmeDolyn

Drowsy First Day

2006-09-05T21:22:00.000-04:00

All I wanted today was a cup of coffee. My day started bright and early with my 9 am class. I walked into the atrium of GULC to the glorious sight of free goodies set out to welcome the new 1Ls. I happily trotted over to the tables to make myself a delicious cup o' joe. The cup did not turn out so delicious. It was instead nigh on undrinkable due to the presence of too much half and half (my fault, I know...but I'm used to pouring skim milk).

So, I didn't drink that cup. Six and a half hours later, after a very long day including 2 classes, some homework, some intense schedule manipulation and a trip to and from Bethesda, I was desperate for a successful cup of coffee. I tried to obtain the object of my dreams during my 15 minute break between classes only to find the new Peet's Coffee in the building was closed. Perhaps they aren't expecting many people to want coffee at 5:30 in the evening.

Finally, during my break in my next class I was able to make myself a cup using skim milk. I thought, "this shall be it! I shall have caffeine! " Until I took a sip and realized that coffee from a dispenser at 6:45 can only ever be dirty water that has been seeping in spent grounds for hours on end. I poured artificial sweetener after artificial sweetener in and was able to down half the cup. The gross disgusting cup.

You know its a tough day when you can't get one good cup of coffee at a law school.

For When EIW Hurts too Bad...

2006-08-30T18:54:00.000-04:00

...I turn to the cutest cat!

I am Wholly Inappropriate (and Blogging Again)

2006-08-28T22:06:00.000-04:00

I went to a law firm reception this evening. I am in the middle of Early Interview Week, which for you non-law schoolers means "The Way Law School Attendees Get Jobs Next Summer and Once Graduated." Many a law firm will throw receptions (read: parties with free food and alcohol) for their interviewees. I attended one tonight and after getting thoroughly toasted I said what is perhaps the most inappropriate comment I could think of. Imgaine:

[Law Firm Reception. Associate at Law Firm flips his Corona over to put lime inside, thus increasing tastiness of Corona. In doing so, some beer spurts out once he flips beer right side up.]
Me: Good thing you moved that away from people.
Associate: I've done this before.

Later....
[Same associate has another Corona, flips it over to increase lime tastiness, and this time, no beer escapes]
Me: Oh good job! I've seen this guy spurt his juice all over the place before.
Everyone else within earshot: SHOCK SHOCK SCHOCK SHOCK SCHOCK
Me: riiiiiiiiiiiip (that's the sound of me removing my name tag as to become anonymous.)

I will never get a job.

Traffic Report #3

2006-06-24T03:33:00.000-04:00

I carpooled home from work the other day, though no gas was saved in the process (sorry Molly). While on the freeway, a bee alighted on my windshield, right atop a white sticker, plainly thinking it a flower. I drove a bit - a mile or two - waiting for the bee to fly away, having learned there was nothing to be gained from rubbing Louis. But the bee stayed and rubbed. Rubbed and stayed. I grew concerned for the little bee, driving farther and farther away from what I assumed must be his home. And I was also a little concerned for me, fearing being stung by the lost and bewildered bee upon exiting my car.

As I crawled along the freeway, I tried to smush him with the windshield wiper, but he was barely out of range. I tried a new tactic and tapped on the glass, hoping this would dislodge him. I tapped and tapped. But he stayed and rubbed. Finally, miraciously, he rubbed his way over juuuust enough to allow me to startle him off Louis with the wipers. I was glad an amicble end could be reached. I didn't get stung and the bee didn't get smushed. Though I made it home and I'll never know if he did the same.

Traffic Report #2

2006-06-13T20:59:00.000-04:00

If this post wasn't part of a series, I would have entitled it "When Cars Mate." Today I spotted a new SUV by Toyota. It can only be described as follows:

If a Hummer had sex with a canvas top Jeep and the Jeep felt it was against its morals to abort the baby even though the father is a selfish, aggressive bastard who is hell bent on destroying the earth, this would be the result.

The ugly, ugly result.

A Summertime List

2006-06-09T16:38:00.000-04:00

Things that are wrong with my summer in LA:
1. I go to bed earlier than my parents
2. I wake up earlier than my parents
3. I burn through half a tank of gas a day
4. On a Thursday night, when I have no work the next day, I cannot stay awake beyond 10:30
5. When I go out for drinks, I am consumed with the fear I will become drunk
6. The Tivo is useless because there is little worth watching

Summer, woot.

Traffic Report #1

2006-06-02T22:29:00.000-04:00

Having moved back to LA, I now spend between 2 and 3 hours a day in traffic Monday through Friday. This gives me ample opportunity to listen to my un-updateable ipod (I give myself 2 weeks before I become despondant due to my stalled music library that I already have played to death during finals prep) and to look at cars and the things people to do them.

This has resulted in the advent of a new "feature" of this here blog o' mine: The Traffic Report.

Today's traffic report is about a decal I saw on the back window of a truck yesterday. This decal was an entire sentence. A sentence I slowed down enough to read to allow a hole in traffic to form in front of Louis, which was quickly filled with other cars which added MINUTES to my commute. The sentence:

"I hope my ex falls of her broomstick....and BREAKS HER NECK!!"

Who holds on to such rage after a breakup/divorce/what-have-you to put a very hard to remove decal on his car? That shit is there until that car is scrapped for metal. I put that in the unhealthy column of ways to deal with the end of a relationship. The only thing worse than being that person's ex and knowing he's advertising his hatred of you is being the girl he picks up for a first date.

Welcome "Home"

2006-05-27T00:15:00.000-04:00

I came into my bedroom for my first night's sleep in LA to find that the cat had shit on my bed.

Thanks Scratchy. I missed you too.

"Oh, I Wish..."*

2006-05-24T23:20:00.000-04:00

I am not a spiritual or superstitious person. I believe in little to nothing. And yet, every time I go through a tunnel while driving I make a wish. I hold my breath and close my eyes (if I am not behind the wheel) and make a wish. If I hold my breath the whole way through, well then my wish comes true doncha know.

I had forgotten this ritual, habit, superstition of mine until the other night. Sam commented on the number of stars in the (as mentioned) beautiful DC sky. At this, Altman revealed that he made a wish on the first star he saw every night. Sam makes wishes whenever he notices that it's 11:11.

Today I made a wish when I threw money into a fountain. Perhaps I'm not as hard as I think I am.

*name that jingle tune!

SMed: a Font of Knowledge

2006-05-09T12:17:00.000-04:00

I like SMed. She's like me, but Meddier. After calming me down from a finals induced rage yesterday, she imparted some fun bits of information to me and I'd like to share them.

1. McDonald's is trying to revamp its image and become more like Starbucks. First, the colors must be fixed: it will tone down the yellow of its arches, change the red to umber, and throw an olive green in for good measure. Next, the ugly red roofs will be removed and replaced with a golden sloped dealie. Finally, Ronald McDonald will be made less terrifying. I say, nice try McDonalds. Unless you make your food better, you will also be just another fast food joint.*

2. Here's a fun link she gave me! If you don't know OverheardinNewYork, it won't be as funny. So check that one out as well (I actually got something I overheard posted here once)!

In conclusion: I like my friend SMed. She is an oasis of joy in a desert of painful studying.

* I tried and failed to find a more "official" source than SMed's mouth, but was unable to do so. This does not, however, make her assertions any less true. I'm just a terrible Googler.

A Survey

2006-05-04T15:07:00.000-04:00

The scenario:

Imagine I am walking down the street with a cute dog (let's say a Boxer with uncut ears). I am wearing a shirt (let's say a black t-shirt with white block letters) that says, "Pet My Dog".

Is the shirt cute or obnoxious?

I say cute because I always want to pet people's dogs but I'm afraid to because I think they'll be annoyed with me for doing so. I like the shirt because it makes it clear that the owner doesn't mind. In fact, it tells you the owners WANTS you to pet the dog.

Sam and Co. think its obnoxious because its begging for attention.

To which I say, what's wrong with that?

Happy First Day of Exams!

2006-05-03T07:43:00.000-04:00

The fun begins today with my first final of the season: Criminal Justice. Regardless of what grade I get, studying as already been very useful. While doing a previous exam for practice, I saw these words in a 2004 exam:

"each ad accepted payment only by Western Union electronic transfer, something that is virtually impossible to trace and that is often used by scam artists on eBay."

I KNEW that Heinous Bitchface was trying to scam me! While not mentioned in the post about my attempt to get a fan and that Heinous Bitchface's attempt to steal my money, the only two forms of payment she accepted were personal check aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand, that's right, Western Union electronic transfer.

Bitchface, Bitchface, Bitchface!!! There, I feel better now.

The Verdict is In!

2006-04-26T11:16:00.000-04:00

And Georgetown is out. Yes, somehow Kim was able to withstand my cajoling and ignored my expert reasoning and has decided to go to Berkeley. This is despite the fact that during her admitted students weekend there she was shown cockroaches in the ladies bathroom, windowless ugly classrooms in a ghetto building, and was accosted by the school's Filipino Club which she must join otherwise it will cease to be.

This instead of Georgetown, with its new, modern facilities. With its windows. With its bug-free bathrooms (which flush automatically sometimes!). And with, well, me!

Ah well. I'll give her some Raid and a sunlamp and send her off to law school in Northern California with no hard feelings. I just want her to be happy after all.

Because my life is boring...

2006-04-23T20:36:00.000-04:00

Finals have taken over my life and I have nothing interesting to talk about on this here blog. And so I am posting a reproduction of an email I got from Molly which involves courtroom stupidity, wit and general hilarity. You may have seen this before:

Q: Are you sexually active?
A: No, I just lie there.
______________________________

_______________________________
Q: What is your date of birth?
A: July 15.
Q: What year?
A: Every year.
______________________________________________________________
Q: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
A: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
______________________________________________________________
Q: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
A: Yes.
Q: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
A: I forget.
Q: You forget? Can you give us an example of something that you've
forgotten?
______________________________________________________________
Q: How old is your son, the one living with you?
A: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.
Q: How long has he lived with you?
A: Forty-five years.
_________________________________________________________
Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you when he woke up that
morning?
A: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?"
Q: And why did that upset you?
A: My name is Susan.
______________________________________________________________
Q: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo or the
occult?
A: We both do.
Q: Voodoo?
A: We do.
Q: You do?
A: Yes, voodoo.
______________________________________________________________
Q: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he does
know about it until the next morning?
A: Did you actually pass the bar exam?
______________________________________________________________
Q: The youngest son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he?
______________________________________________________________
Q: Were you present when your picture was taken?
______________________________________________________________
Q: So the date of conception of the baby was August 8th?
A: Yes.
Q: And what were you doing at that time?
______________________________________________________________
Q: She had three children, right?
A: Yes.
Q: How many were boys?
A: None.
Q: Were there any girls?
______________________________________________________________
Q: How was your first marriage terminated?
A: By death.
Q: And by whose death was it terminated?
______________________________________________________________
Q: Can you describe the individual?
A: He was about medium height and had a beard.
Q: Was this a male, or a female?
______________________________________________________________
Q: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition which I
sent to your attorney?
A: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
______________________________________________________________
Q: Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?
A: All my autopsies are performed on dead people.
______________________________________________________________
Q: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK?
A: Yes.
Q: What school did you go to?
A: Oral.
______________________________________________________________
Q: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
A: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
Q: And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?
A: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy.
______________________________________________________________
Q: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
______________________________________________________________
Q: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
A: No.
Q: Did you check for blood pressure?
A: No.
Q: Did you check for breathing?
A: No.
Q: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the
autopsy?
A: No.
Q: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
A: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
Q: But could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
A: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive, practicing law
somewhere.

My favorite is the voodoo one.

One Law School

2006-04-19T12:12:00.000-04:00

I was a bit surprised on Monday by the complete lack of awareness one of the GULC professors had for school events going on around him. I was at panel discussion giving advice on making our schedule for next year, which was taking place in Hart Auditorium - the location of all that requires "stadium" seating.

Now maybe I'm only aware of the upcoming musical because of my upbringing or my friends, but I think I would have known about it anyway because there are signs everywhere! A table by the cafeteria with video playing. THERE'S A MUSICAL AFOOT PEOPLE (in fact it opens today - free for 1Ls tonight!)!

So when I entered Hart I was confronted with a castle. A very impressive set of a castle with multiple levels and bars and a valley in the background. And I immediately knew it was for the musical. I may have been the only one as a professor on the panel, before imparting his sage advice on what classes to take next year, said, "I have no idea why they decided to set up a prison as the background, but it's particularly appropriate for the topic." Shouldn't the professors know when there is a musical coming. Isn't that part of being a law school community?

I'm not saying he has to go to the musical, but he should be aware of it. At least know it exists. Sure, he's busy with his research and his classes and general scholarly duties. But how hard is it to read a frickin' sign? Or to check out What's Happening? I'll tell you how hard - not hard.

Have you seen the DC sky?

2006-04-12T17:46:00.000-04:00

It's a nice sky you got there DC. A personal fav as cities' skies go.

Finally!!

2006-04-07T15:18:00.000-04:00

Pictures of the Britney Spears pregnancy statue have been flooding the internet. Yet, all I'd ever seen of it was the front:

Which is bad enough. What is going on with that dog/wolf face? What does that have to do with the courage of giving birth and young motherhood? Is it perhaps Kevin? But I could not help but stare at her ass thrust into the air, spread wide and wonder, "What is back there?" C'mon, I know ya'll were thinking the same thing.

Wonder no longer:

Terribleness is back there. Man, births (even when made of marble) are gross. Heads coming out of vaginas are gross. But most of all, statues made in honor of Britney Spears for any reason, let alone in pro-life honor, are gross.

My Conversation with Actual Cowboys!

2006-03-30T02:31:00.000-05:00

Katie is in town!!!! And tonight we went to the Irish Times for the second time in two days (I know, I know). Who else is there but a rancher convention!!! In cowboy hats, and buckles and anti-death tax buttons. From the moment I saw them it became my goal to talk to one of them. Which I did! A few of them. And I had some unlikely conversation with these cowboys:

1. Feminism: not really a conversation in itself, but I mentioned that I was a feminist. Which led to...
2. Abortion: we disussed the new law passed in South Dakota which outlaws all abortion except for when the life of the mother is in danger. I talked about being pro-choice as a feminist. Cowboy Scott (from South Dakota) was upset that his governor was focusing so much energy on something that only "black hat" cowboys (the bad guys [his words]) were interested in.
3. Circumcision: Cowboy John (from Arizona) mentioned he had seen a protest on the Mall agaisnt circumcision of all things. I mentioned that I had seen a television program that had made me question whether or not to circumsize my hypothetical son because (and now I must move to dialouge form):

Me: I'm sorry if this offends you, but I heard it lessens sensation.
Cowboy John: Well, I wouldn't know about that. I've always been happy...
Me: Well, right. You wouldn't know any differently since you've always been...
CJ: Ok, we need to stop this conversation.
Me: Yeah, I don't want to talk to you about circumcision or sensation.
CJ: Really this conversation needs to end because of our age difference.

And so it did. Next we talked about:

4. Homosexuality: Cowboy John says, "ignoring Brokeback Mountain..." Which forced me to tell him how much I had wanted to talk to him about Brokeback Mountain. His stance was that since cowboys are the last bastions of the 1880s that they aren't into accepting gay rights. BUT! His neice is gay and has a girlfriend that she brings around the ranch and that because she was family he would accept her.

So ends the exciting parts of my cowboy chats, but I really did have my mind blown by how "accepting" they were. I mean, they ain't democrats, but they are more liberal than some. And that's saying something.

I Sigh

2006-03-28T13:49:00.000-05:00

And do so frequently, deeply, loudly, and many times unconsciously. This has been true all my life. My mother believed I was a woeful teen because I'd sigh throughout car rides. Boyfriends have feared that I am pissed off at them for reasons they cannot figure out. People around me in class believe me to be exasperated by the case material and the professor's words. Friends at lunch wonder what terrible trauma I'm going through to cause me to exhale with such sorrow.

But rarely are my sighs tied to any emotion at all. I am almost always just breathing. Maybe I forget to breathe for some time and a large breath is required to keep me conscious. Maybe I have a dramatic soul that just yearns to be melancholy.

Wait! One of these mystery sighs has just happened and it seemed to be caused by a lack of normal breathing on my part beforehand.

Great, I now know that I need more regular lung activity but I still can't explain the sad sounds I make while "sighing". I can't explain why I make any sound at all. But I do and the unconscious nature of the entire process leads me to believe it shall not change. So worry not when you hear me take any of these mournful breaths. I'm fine, probably quite happy, and just in need of some oxygen. Sweet, delicious oxygen.

"Your Shoes Match Your Earrings!!"

2006-03-26T19:15:00.000-05:00

I heard this observation many a time last night at Barristers' Ball (otherwise known as Law School Prom). This was undoubtedly because they did. Rather than shell out the money to buy a gown of some sort for the event, I found a black dress I had bought my freshman year of college, worn for 10 minutes, and then promptly forgot about. It's a cute little number, but I feared that the black cocktail dress would be a bit boring. So I jazzed up the outfit with some turquoise blue heels and matching earrings.

With such flashy shoes and earrings, I'm not sure why I was surprised they were commented on by a number of people, but surprised I was nevertheless. Heels-obsessed as I am, I found these shoes to be the most exciting thing about Barristers' Ball. Sadly, the Ball was not quite as super-fun as expected.

Perhaps this is true because the Georgetown Law School security guard by day/DJ by night, while a very good guard, was a pretty lame DJ. Took none of my suggestions (which were good as always) and didn't even know what songs he had to play. Maybe it was because it was my third night in a row getting fairly drunk. But most likely, it was because I did not get fairly drunk last night, but instead got totally tanked.

See? Tanked. Too drunk though I was, I did have fun at the Prom with my matching shoes and earrings. I mean, just look at 'em: all shiny in their patent-leather splendor! Just calling out to be looked at. And besides, it's probably better that my shoes were my favorite part of the Ball. The Ball was just one night, but I can wear these babies again and again!

DC meets LA

2006-03-21T17:28:00.000-05:00

I just love it when my various homes collide:

http://www.truthdig.com/report/item/20060317_borowitz_jumps_sharp/

Due to my shall we say "distaste" for politics, I greatly appreciate the comparison between "useless" television shows (which Saved by the Bell arguably is) and presidential administrations. Besides, Bush makes a great Screech.

Hard to tell the difference but for the early 90s garb of our dear Bayside friends, no?

Update: I feel I was remiss in not attributing the above link to Tim. Thanks Tim!

"Wha Happened?"

2006-03-18T13:04:00.000-05:00

I was googling my own blog yesterday (like ya do...) when I discovered that my blog is on a list that I just find incomprehensible. Go to this website and scroll down to the list of Top 100 Incoming Links. Look there I am, rocking hard at #13! And I have a future worth of $314.70! What the hell does that mean?!

This site has further mystified me based on the site with which I am linked. Through a friend of a friend, I stumbled onto this this website which I frequent a couple times a week. Now, I have never posted a comment, embedded a link to it in a post (until now), or otherwise connected CallmeDolyn with SkeetonMischa. And yet, there I am on his blogshare list. How? Why?

I have my own page on the website as well. Much less impressive than Skeet's. And my own list of incoming sites makes no sense to me either. Good job to Section 4 Blog with a worth of $550.00 (or $1,000?) and Molly who comes in with at $530.39. But why are there only 4 sites on my list. And why are the other 2 McLissa in London (which has been defunct for months now) and Hoya Lawyer, which I do not link to?

So, here are my questions: what are blogshares? How are they used to tabulate "worth"? And how are these lists compiled in such a way as to make no logical sense to me? Any help interpreting this website would be greatly appreciated.

I Name Things

2006-03-14T11:41:00.000-05:00

It has been recently brought to my attention that when I name the animals or inanimate objects in my life, I tend to follow a formula when doing so. The formula is as follows: characteristic about animal or object + Y or IE = perfect name!

Examples:
1. My family once had a terrible cat. A terrible striped cat. Name: Stripey
2. I later had an excellent cat. An excellent black cat. Name: Blackie
3. My sister was the proud owner of Blackie's brother cat. A black brother cat. Name: Black Licorice (wait for it...). Nickname: Licky
4. Licky left. We got another black cat, that was a big fuzz ball as a kitten. Name: Scratchy (because the fur looked like it would scratch you)
5. My sister and I shared a car when we were attending high school at Louisville High School. The car was made in Louisville, KY. Name: Louis (pronounced the French way and that counts as a Y in my book).
6. I currently have a desktop computer. Name: Compy
7. I also have a laptop for school. Name: Lappy.

I mean, it was excusable when I was a child and naming things that I followed such a naming scheme- but clearly my development has been stalled. There are others who name the way I do. Sadly, they are 11. While at work, Nate overheard a little girl naming the fish in the fish tank. Here is an exhaustive list of these names:

Blackey, Sparkley, Sparkle Shine, Joey, Orangey, Big Guy, Mr. Skinny, Mr. Brown Nose, Salami, Stripes, Pointynose, Orangetail, X-Ray, Tummy, Bones, See-Through, Small Tail, Fins, Goldy, Black and White, Rainbow, Sharpie, Peach, Black Eye, Bendy, Shrimp, Algae-ey, and Pumpkin Pie

When finished naming all these many fish, she promptly declared, "see! I told you I was good at naming fish!" And good at naming she is. Her naming talents as an 11 year old far outstrip my own. She has quite a few that I love, such as Salami, Sharkle Shine, Bendy, and Algae-ey.

So basically, I suck at naming things. I suck so bad that even 11 year olds who use similar naming strategies as myself come up with better names than I. I have a new nickname for myself: Sucky.

Oh, Eastern Market! How I love thee!

2006-03-13T10:06:00.000-05:00

I went to Eastern Market yesterday for my first time ever. This was a misstep on my part. I should have been going to the Market from the moment I arrived in this town. Granted the beautiful weather probably made the experience better than it would have been in the dead of "winter" (a season which I believe may no longer exist).

I went on what can only be described as a spree at Eastern Market. I was dropping $10 bills like a very cheap rap star. I bought: 2 pairs of earrings (both green, go figure), a candle which I believed smelled of coconut but actually is white tea, purple tulips, and a pound of 2 kinds of delicious ravioli.

I also came very near to buying some original artwork while there. Sadly, the artists all wanted hefty sums for their paintings. I'm a young law student and I just don't have 200 dollars to drop on art. #1 Reason to work at a firm this summer: ability to buy artwork. 'Cause I'm sick and tired of only having my own lesser artwork on the walls.

Though I spreed while at Eastern Market, there was still so much I wished to purchase. Fresh produce and meat, potted plants, knick knacks, furniture, necklaces, rings...oh, it was consumer heaven. Heavenly in that there was so much to buy, but not from a corporate chain. I got to spend money and feel good that the money was going to small vendors!

I thank you, Eastern Market, for having so many things for me to buy and for making me like DC all the more. I'll be seeing you soon, believe you me.*

*Is this the correct sentence structure for this idiom? Believe, you, me? Believe you, me?

My Plane Ride Home

2006-03-09T01:47:00.000-05:00

I flew back from LA today and boy, did I travel in style. I had been flown back to LA by a law firm for an interview (!!!) and as a result, I was picked up for the airport in a town car by a man named Alex. Alex and I drove traffic-free to LAX (and let me say, I was not in an ounce of traffic my entire time in LA) where I glided (glid? glid-eded?) through check in and security.

I boarded my flight where I was seated towards the back. 4th row from the end in fact. By the time I got back there, it was clear there was no space in the overheard compartments for my bag. I stood stalled, unsure what to do, when a nice gentleman stood up and made every effort to get my bag into a compartment. He went to such effort as to move someone's bag (perhaps his own?) into another compartment, to fit mine in. This, after an abortive effort to shove my bag into a different compartment where it would not fit. It was just the nicest thing.

Then, we were told that the flight was completely full. To the brim. Standby passengers turned away. And yet! the middle space between me and the woman next to me was completely empty. I thought of saying something to the flight attendant, but everything seemed under control and I thought surely they had noticed it themselves. I did, however, find it odd that the woman I was sitting with didn't say anything to me. She didn't even look surprised. When I had realized the seat was empty, I looked around stunned with a grin on my face, but she was a stoned faced killer.

Granted, once we took off we went through a bout of terrifying turbulence. I was gripping the arm rests, crying out, and imagining some pretty awful ways to die for a good few minutes. Though, no one else seemed quite as bothered. I blame Lost, quite frankly. Needlessly to say, we survived. And I am back safely, relaxing away the rest of my spreak break.

So here's to safe plane travel, spring break II, and compelling television.

I Love Kittens!!

2006-03-08T22:29:00.000-05:00

And you should too! But that doesn't mean that some aren't better than others.

Can we war with Mr. Rupert? He'll destroy the competition.

I woke up alarmed this morning

2006-02-28T14:35:00.000-05:00

A week or so ago, I ran into some alarm clock trouble. Which of course means it didn't wake me up when it should have. Now, this was my own fault as I...set it for pm instead of am (I am so ashamed. Can't you tell by the smaller script?) Because of this error, I woke up halfway through a very complicated Property class which I had very much intended to attend. I was thoroughly angry with myself and am sure I will now do not so well on the final.

A few days later, Charlotte came to visit. She and I needed to make use of the alarm clock so that we could make it to brunch at a reasonable time (there are no very good brunch spots directly by me and so we had to commute an hour to get somewhere delicious). We were both very confused, therefore, when we woke up at 1. In the afternoon. Not a reasonable time. And why had my alarm clocked failed me yet again? Well...it's because I had forgotten about my previous stupidity and had simply changed the time by 3 hours, instead of the 15 required (note the use of the shame-size font). We wound up eating "brunch" around 3:30.

I have since remedied my alarm clock disfunction and have been setting it to the right time for a few days in a row now. Amazing! Stupendous!

Setting my alarm clock, however, has become entirely unnecessary due to my previous mistakes. Every weekday morning now I wake up with a start, scared to death a good half an hour before I need to wake up. My eyes shoot open, I gasp, and look at the clock as quickly as possible only to learn that all is ok. Of course, waking up panicked does not lead to a quick return to sleep, and I tend to lie there until my alarm clock goes off.

Truth be told, I am a bit impressed with my brain for a) learning that I am a dolt and b) having enough of an internal clock to wake me up before class. I am not so impressed as to wish this to continue. So thanks Brain for being so on point, but I've learned my lesson. I shall set the clock to the right time from now on. Please, oh please just let me get those extra minutes of sleep now.

The Faulty Logic of the DC Metro

2006-02-27T19:56:00.000-05:00

One of the worst things about the DC metro (besides the fact that it closes and runs infrequently when I need it) is that food and drink are not allowed. They claim that this will halt the incursion of icky crawly bugs and disease-spreading rats.

Now, based on my experience with the New York subway system I believe this logic to be flawed. First, I haven't really ever seen a roach or any other buggy duder on the subway, except for the errant fly here and there. And really, how annoying is a fly? There are plenty of stinkier people than I to attract their attention. Second, while there may be rats and mice in the subway, they live on the tracks and are kind of cute to look at. In fact, watching them gives me something to do while waiting for the train. Third, given these previous points, the interest of the city to limit these "pests" is in no way stronger than my interest in drinking a soda and eating some chips on the way to my destination.

Besides, the metro already has unexpected guests:
Granted, this foliage is nice looking. But isn't this technically mold?! A pest?! That can spread disease or at least allergies?!?

So DC Metro, please give me my travel gatorade. My hangover and I need it.

Stars died for you tonight

2006-02-25T01:49:00.000-05:00

And rocked while doing so. Good show, Stars, good show. Sadly, however, my favorite part of the show was when the lead chick singer Amy did a mini Metric cover. Which leads me to believe that I should cut short my newly made spring break plans of going to LA (in an attempt to get a summer job) and come back in time for the show they are playing here. They being Metric. Who rock my soul so hard.

But let's not forget Stars who were a rocking time themselves. They played nearly all of my favs and I could see BOTH the singers! Thank you boots and Black Cat. Finally, another reason the show was good was because there was only one crazy hand waver. But man, was he crazy. He actually did the we are not worthy arms. I mean, I like you Stars, but I think I'm worthy.

For good measure, I will end this post with a funny blog post about Stars and Google-ing.*

*I say it's funny, but I haven't actually read the whole thing myself. So, I'm sorry if it's not actually funny...

Further Bathroom Ponderings

2006-02-23T18:18:00.000-05:00

I returned to the site of my first bathroom musings and found myself further confused by bathroom silliness. Why the signs saying "Employees must wash hands"? Is it for my benefit, to let me know that the employees are serving me food with clean hands? Or a reminder to the employees to not return to work with poop and pee on their hands?

Either way I'm done with the charade. Employees will or won't wash their hands based on their own levels of common decency regardless of what a sign may say. And I will continue to naively believe they all wash their hands, for to think otherwise would halt my eating out in its tracks.

So, stop with the signs please. They are ugly and make me think wonder how often they are ignored.

Soap Shouldn't Smell Bad.

2006-02-19T11:18:00.000-05:00

And yet, so often, it does. More often than not in public bathrooms. What kind of incentive is it to wash my hands if afterwards the mere whiff of them makes me gag? The stinkers are not too hard to find: if the soap is pink, use only water in the sink. Could the makers of pink, stinky liquid soap please make the soap smell less like dying and more like vanilla beans and brown sugar? Or Freesia? Or anything that doesn't smell like my nose glands exploding? And could the custodial managers, or whoever it is who is in charge of soap management, stop purchasing these foul soap products?

I'll say this for Georgetown: all of the soap in their bathrooms is creamy and white. And lovely smelling. Kiiiiim, reason # 567 to come here: nice smelling soap.

World, take a tip from Georgetown and throw out your pink liquid stink juice. My hands, nose, and desire to not get Hepatitis A will thank you.

Clipping Cupid's Wings

2006-02-14T18:12:00.000-05:00

I have lately been without a single post-worthy thought (you may have noticed). I was beginning to despair until I realized that today is a holiday. I hate holidays! And, more importantly, I post about it!

I do not like Valentine's Day. I mean, what is less romantic than forced romance? I'm all for flowers, heart shaped boxes of candy, and swanky dinners. I just don't think that it's romantic when one gives or receives these things because the calender tells them to. But I primarily hate today because it hurts people's feelings when they don't have someone to be told to be romantic with.

This is not a problem I share, however, because I have a Valentine every year.Yes, yes I know. How corny. A girl saying that her dad is her valentine. But he is and it's sweet, so deal with it. What could make someone feel more loved than this: my first Valentine's Day in college my dad sent me flowers with a card that said, "no matter what boy you have in your life, I will always be your Valentine."

So, while I don't like V-Day, I do like that my dad is mine. And always has been. And always will be. And that may be worth all the pink.

Small Pleasures

2006-02-05T23:22:00.000-05:00

I really enjoy it when I am the first person to bravely cross the street against the light. I always feel quite bad ass when I start walking and everyone else on the corners kind of perk up as though thinking, "why didn't I think of walking when there are no cars," and then all begin to cross. This happened from time to time in NYC, though never too often as everyone is always crossing the street whenever they want. But now that I have gotten to know the streets of DC better, I am better able to make bold moves, like crossing H when no traffic is coming. And lest you forget that this blog does have a theme from time to time (example here), I'll make why this is a small pleasure explicitly clear. I feel like I am taking a "skill" I developed while living in NYC and adapting it to my new life in DC. This makes DC feel that much more comfortable. As did my weekend of city-wide travel in general. Perhaps I can like this city after all.

Mama Conway throws down

2006-02-02T12:53:00.000-05:00

Do not mess with Momway. Or more accurately with Momway's children. Which Barzy Boo Boo did. And he felt the wrath.

David was mean and my mom stood up for me.

That being said she kind of threw down on me as well.

And also note, she's nice to Barzy in that one.

Mock You!

2006-01-31T13:34:00.000-05:00

For those of you who haven't been around me for more than 5 seconds since last Sunday, I have some exciting news, which is that I made the Georgetown mock trial team! Woot.

First order of business upon making the mock trial team was a competition. Which we had a little less than a week to prepare for. We did this in partners and mine was Les, who did mock trial at USC as an undergrad. And as a result he knew all the rules of evidence. And how to make objections. And how to respond to them. And generally, how to be badass.

Our first round of trial competition was Friday at 6:30. The case is a civil suit against the fictional Dallas County School Board by the parents of a girl who was killed crossing the street when the unlicensed PE teacher drove the bus and let the soon-to-be dead girl and her sister off on the wrong side of a busy street. We were the defense. This is a hard case to make.

But we did a good job. One of the judges told us we were "smooth as a tapestry." I did the opening, which apparently went well. I use the word apparently because I was not paying much attention to how it was going. I was just trying to remember all the words while making solid eye contact. I examined and cross examined some witnesses. I even impeached someone, though it may have been unnecessary.

And we won! Kind of. We split the vote with the other team, though we had the most points. This means that Les and I didn't win by a large enough margin of victory to move on to the next round. Which, truth be told, is fine by me. I nearly had a nervous breakdown the day before our trial, being very busy and generally unhappy.

So while I am super glad that I am on the mock trial team and look forward to next year when I will have more than a week to prepare for a trial and will have a coach who will say things like, "I don't think that theme is a very good idea," I am ready to return to normal law school activities. Like finding out my grades tonight and committing suicide thereafter. You know, the usual.

Kim Came to Town

2006-01-30T11:23:00.000-05:00

Kim came, she saw, and she conquered....yet again. Kim and DC get along very well, a phenomenon so strong that Kim's presence in this town even makes my relationship with DC better. The question is why even though Kim has a grand ole time everytime she comes here, even though she is Queen of the Streets from the moment she steps off the train, even though she can "see herself here", why oh why won't she just decide to come here already.

Fine, fine, fine...I understand that she has yet to hear back from 90% of the schools she applied. And fine, I understand that some of those schools are technically better (aka Harvard, Yale, or NYU). And fine, I understand that my desperation for her to be here is not the number one criteria she should use to decide where to attend law school.

Regardless, Kim was shown a good law school time by both me and Nic (her official host). First we attended a crowded admitted students reception that (GASP!) was not serving alcohol. Come on Georgetown, do you want these kids to come or not? Free alchohol = tuition. Luckily, the Students for Choice (the only non-affiliated student group) was serving wine right across the room. Coincidence? I don't think so.

Afterwards, we attended a 1L institution: bar review. Which was as expected: crowded, smokey and drunken. Where Kim found out yet again that men in DC dig the 'Tividad.

The next day I had my first mock trial competition (details to follow in a later post, no worries Mom and Dad), so she got to see what fake lawyering is like. That was followed by a good old hang out at the G-spot with wine and Cranium. Which Kim and I dominated dramatically. Sadly, there is no photo documentation of this great day.

So again, I say to Kim via my blog: I will love you if you come here. I will love you if you don't. Buuuut, I think you will be happiest if you come here. Happier than in boring old Northern California anyway.

::stifled sob::

2006-01-24T15:09:00.000-05:00

Something terrible has happened. It happened a week or so ago, but I was unable to blog about it until now. I was in mourning.

My sunglasses - my amazing, perfect, favorite sunglasses of all time - have broken. The frame snapped and out popped the lens. The worst part of this occurrence was the fact that I had a psychic inkling something like this was going to happen. I had been thinking juuuuust the day before, "it sure would suck if my glasses broke while in my bookbag." And so they did. I really should learn to trust my instincts more.

The good news is that I have since fixed them. With hot glue, which is not so hot fashion-wise. But the shape remains intact and it is the shape that I love. And I got to feel handy like my mother, something very hard to achieve. So things with my glasses should be back to great until the hot summer months come and melt the hot glue out of the seam...and glue them to my face. Which won't be so bad since they are, again, the best sunglasses in all the world.

December 31, 2005 (again)

2006-01-21T12:40:00.000-05:00

Ever since returning to DC, I've felt a little....off. I can't keep track of my appointments, I never know what day it is, the date elludes me, and I'm unsure when my assignments are due. I am, quite frankly, stuck in December.

Am I suffering from a degenerative brain disease? Am I afflicted with SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder)? Do I have hardcore nostalgia? Am I losing my mind?

No, I just don't have a new calander. I usually get one from my mother for Christmas, but not this year. There was a long period of time (all of high school and most of college) where every year I received a KROQ calander with new music cd. I loved the calander when I was in high school and I liked to see what bands represented my birthday month (which being October was always The Used and Marilyn Manson). When I was in college, however, I no longer listened to KROQ or many bands played on the radio. In fact, I really only listened to what was being played around me. And so, last year, I asked my mother to please, please, please not give me a KROQ calander and asked for one that was more "adult".

And so I received an Alphonse Mucha calander. And it was good. But apparently, this year, my mother has decided I must take care of my own time-keeping needs. And so I have finally ordered this online:Cosmpolitan?! Cats?! Together at last! It's downright perfect! With this perfect calander I shall never be confused about an appointment or due date again. So thanks but no thanks Mom, I'll be calandering myself from now on.

It's like a chain letter for a blog!

2006-01-16T23:39:00.000-05:00

Thank you Tim. Tim has tagged me in a blogging game called 4 Meme. I'll answer some questions and at the end of the list name four other bloggers who must similarly bear their souls. All squared? Here goes:

4 Jobs:
NYU Law School coat check girl (aka paid study hall with cute law school boys thrown in for free!), Cashier at Blue9 Burger (the premiere In n Out rip off of the East Coast), Legal Intern, and PA for Charmed (I did nothing for a month but feel guilty about the circumstances of my birth).

4 Movies I could watch over and over:
Playing by Heart, Donnie Darko, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, the Boogens

4 Places I've lived:
I find this question may be unfair to those less cosmopolitan than Tim and I. That being said - Los Angeles, New York, London, and DC

4 TV Shows I love to watch:
Lost, Six Feet Under, Law and Order(s), Arrested Development

4 Websites I visit daily:
The Superficial, GoFugYourself, this random one, and Overheard in New York.

4 of my favorite foods:
sushi, goat cheese, mushrooms, and chicken cheesesteaks

4 Places I'd rather be:
Sitting in Charlotte's apartment having a nightcap, living in my future apartment in some unknown city with my law career already underway, driving in Louis with my sister, lying in my way more comfortable bed in CA.

4 Albums I can't live without:
Coheed and Cambria's In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3, Metric's Old World Underground, Where Are You Know, Postal Service's Give Up, and The Faint's Danse Macabre.

4 People to tag:
Bwa ha ha. Bitchface Melissa (maybe now you'll finally post something new!), Lee Lee, Charlar, and Barzy Boo Boo (for either your own blog or to be guest blogged onto mine).

So there is my soul. Please don't stare at it.

Bad Dream

2006-01-14T11:54:00.000-05:00

I had a terrible, strange dream last night. One so awful I decided it must be shared.

It began with my mother learning that the world was going to end. Be it nuclear holocaust or a meteroite, I'm not sure how but earth was on its way out. And so my mother made a deal with an alien planet for some humans to move there. But what a bad deal this turned out to be:

The deal was that we humans had to crawl into the spaceships, which were very hard to reach, clinging to bags full of our possessions in teams. One person doing the main crawling, the other clinging to the crawler for dear life. And if any person lost their grip, the alien race would eat them.

To further terrorize me, not everyone believed us that the world was going to end. Like my friend from forever Christina. I talked to her in the dream and she said she was going to take her chances with earth, despite my pleadings to at least try to move to the alien planet and not get eaten.

Happily, I did not have to watch various people get chomped to bits for their inability to kung-fu grip. I awoke during the plastic bag packing process and was greatly relieved to remember that though the world may be ending (60 degrees in DC in January, what?), no crawling/eating/life-saving scenarios have yet to begin.

Not a bad sci-fi movie plot though, eh? Pitchblack 3: This time We're Crawling.

The glorious Red Hat Society

2006-01-13T14:14:00.000-05:00

My blog is down for another day or two, so I'm guest-posting on Sarah's blog in order to get my blogging fix for the day. Besides, she apparently no longer cares about her readership enough to actually post, and we have to have some way to keep this thing updated, right? Moving on...

I, David Barzelay, have a friend whose goal in life is eventually to join the mysterious Red Hat Society and unravel its arcane mysteries.

What is the Red Hat Society? It is a society of older women who meet up in various places, and hang out dressed in intentionally absurd attire--typically, purple dresses and red hats. Sometimes they wear red gloves as well. Their website says:

Welcome to the place where there is fun after fifty (and before) for women of all walks of life. We believe silliness is the comedy relief of life and, since we are all in it together, we might as well join red-gloved hands and go for the gusto together. Underneath the frivolity, we share a bond of affection, forged by common life experiences and a genuine enthusiasm for wherever life takes us next.

Sounds like a pretty cool society, one to which our beloved Sarah Conway seems perfectly suited. I picture her someday wearing some absurdly large and silly hat like the one to the right, while in a purple lacy dress and long red gloves, taking tea with a spot of scotch in it. She'd be quite fabulous out to lunch with the other ladies, discussing the sexual conquests of her autumn years.

I'd heard my friend Claire talk about the Red Hat Society before, but I'd never actually encountered them myself until last week. While out to lunch with my girlfriend at the Cafe Deluxe in Bethesda, MD, we came upon a group of Red Hat ladies, and I thought they were simply amazing. They were so silly and delightful and wonderful. I lament only that there is no analogous society for men. We could gather together and go out in lime green leisure suits and black fedoras, and hit on all the younger women we see with the sort of reckless abandon and zeal for life and love usually only found in the happiest of lechers.

The ladies appeared to be having a delightful time, laughing, discussing, and carrying on. It really made me happy. I took a couple somewhat covert pictures, and I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one. In general, you know you're doing something either very right or very wrong when you're out and about in public and random strangers can't help snapping photos of you every couple minutes.

So, I toast you, Red Hat Society ladies, for celebrating the absurdity in life, aging, and death, and for being willing to strut around like proud peacocks without regard for what anyone thinks.

Facial Hair and the Law

2006-01-12T23:46:00.000-05:00

While paging through the faculty face book, playing the "What kind of law does this professor teach based upon appearance" Game, it was realized that the study of the law has a funny effect on men and their facial hair. A whopping 21 out of 66 (or so) male professors have facial hair of some kind and many of them have amazing facial hair at that. See the following representation culled from the internet of an actual mustache owned by a Georgetown professor:

Here is a picture of an actual professor with his actual beard:

And finally, let's not forget dear old Schrag:

Perhaps you think I am being silly. But it infects the law students even by the end of the first semester. Need I remind you all of the hair growth contest? I'm not sure who won that by the way...let's just say Tony did with that goatee of his.

Welcome to Barzy Boo Boo!

2006-01-11T12:52:00.000-05:00

I have a guest blogger and his name is Barzelay. His own blog is currently defunct due to his web host's inability to keep himself from getting hacked into time and again. So while he waits for a new web host to treat him right, I have invited him to blog here if he ever so desires.

And let's all hope he does.

A Short List

2006-01-10T15:09:00.000-05:00

Things I Do Not Miss About New York:
1. The stairs to Apt. 4B
To be honest, I hate most of the stairs in New York apartment buildings. They are long and exhausting and never fun to climb. The stairs to Apt. 4B, however, are my all time least favorite. Apt. 4B is the apartment that Char, Chris, Mr. Rupert, Athena, and myself have all shared at one time or another. This apartment has seen its fair share of moving out and I have been involved in a whole lot of it. I have had to carry a mattress and box spring up and down those stairs three separate times. I've had to move all my wordly possessions into that apartment and then out again 4 months later. I just recently had to carry a bag so heavy that I could not carry it bymyself up and down those stairs twice within a month. In short, those stairs have caused me to sweat, pull muscles, and nearly stumble to death.

And you know what, they are a bitch to climb when my hands are empty as well.

Hi! I'm a new post!

2005-12-29T23:08:00.000-05:00

I have been remiss, I know, and have not posted the way a blogger ought. Buuuuut, I've been busy and it's the holidays and I didn't want to. So there. Besides, I'm sure you all have been too busy to even read it. Guilt alleviated, hooray!

I have been busy with family and friends and having a lovely time of it. Especially with the rashy Ms. Katie. She returned from Barcelona red, blotchy, itchy and sick. That was not fun. But now she has begun to recover and we have had lots of fun! We've gone shopping and dancing and tonight karaoking. But mostly we have been driving. Which we are great at together.

I first realized this fact this summer when Katie and I took a road trip to Colorado and back together. It was marvelous. We listened to ipods, saw funny road signs, got lots of gas thanks to Louis' (pronounced the French way) big gas guzzling belly, and read through the entirety of a book out loud together. The reading out loud wasn't lame, but the book sure was. Tuesdays with Maurie. Corny life lessons on the desert roads. It was great.

This winter break Katie, Louis and I have continued our tradition of being a fantastic threesome. We've even developed the best designated driver process ever, which I shall not be elaborating on. In short, you know a pair of sisters are close when they can share one car so harmoniously.

So, number one greatest thing about winter break: my sister. As always.

The DMV and Me

2005-12-19T20:52:00.000-05:00

I lost my driver's license earlier this semester and have finally today replaced it. This of course means that I went to the DMV. Which of course means that I had a hellish day of hours of lines and waiting and disgruntled employees and snarls, right?

Wrong! At Cecil's urgings I made an appointment online at the DMV's website. This was the best idea ever to be had ever. I walked in 15 minutes before my 2:00 appointment. I gave my name and filled out a form. Upon return of this form I was given a number. This number was bumped to the front of the line. I waited about 5 minutes to be called to a window, where a friendly, smiling woman helped me.

Unfortunately, the only thing wrong with my DMV time today was me. I had completely forgotten that it costs money to replace a driver's license. I had further completely forgotten that the DMV does not accept cards of any kind...only checks and cash. Of which I had none. But even this wrench in the cogs of smooth DMV service was a minor one. The lady allowed me to run off to an ATM and finished helping me when I returned without requiring me to wait in line.

So yay to Cecil! And yay to the DMV! And super-yay to the end of using my passport as ID in 2-4 weeks!

Boalt Hall? More like Lame, Smelly, Stupid Hall

2005-12-15T10:12:00.000-05:00

Kim has gotten into Georgetown Law!!!! And she claims that if she doesn't get into Berkeley then Georgetown is the school for her. And so, I ask you Boalt Hall to kindfully reject my dear, wonderful friend Kim.

As a contingency plan, here's a little list to convince Kim to come join me, even after Boalt Hall unsurprisingly lets her in:

1.
Look at how new fangled and shiny GULC is! While Boalt Hall looks like it hasn't been renovated in a century or so. And only one building?! While the sepia tone may give it a nice historical quality, you need a modern facility for your modern law practice and eventual world domination.

2. I love DC. Scoll through these blog posts and all you'll see is post after post of DC lovin'. Ok fine, untrue. However much I dislike DC the city, I do like GULC. Enough not to transfer. And that's saying something.

3. You won't have to deal with any annoying orientation week jitters, wondering if you will meet nice, fun people. Oh no, my friend. Brand new social network already build in when you move here.

4. Jack's parties.

5. Chinatown bus to NYC. They just simply don't exist from San Fran. And I've yet to see a Chinatown plane.

6. Lifelong love and gratitude from me. Life. Long.

I'd continue my list of the infinite wonders of GULC, but I have a low battery and a plane to catch. I can summarize the rest though. 7-a grillion: please, please, please.

I'm Home!

2005-12-14T12:56:00.000-05:00

I am sitting on the purple futon with the hanging plant's fronds dipping into my view and a much bigger Mr. Rupert slinking around the computer and occasionally biting me. And occasionally cuddling me. And occasionally ignoring me.

I am back in New York and it is as wonderful and off-putting as expected. In many ways, it is as though I never left. The places all look familiar, the rooms feel just as comfortable, and hanging out with most of my friends is the same as its always been: perfect. But all I keep noticing is the things that have changed. The new clothes people are wearing, the new furniture in the apartment, the new behaviors of Mr. Rupert. And I no longer can fit into the conversations between my friends as I once could. They have common stories and ways of talking that are beyond me. And that breaks my heart a little bit. Though, it can't be expected to be any different I suppose.

New York itself has been wonderful and off-putting as well. We went to see The XYZ Affair last night at a place called Pianos. The scene at this bar on a Tuesday night was busier and hipper than anything I've seen in DC and I felt totally uncool and lame as a result. Good thing I was with my super cool friends so I didn't look too out of place.

The worst part of this trip is fast approaching: using the god-awful shower in this apartment. I have actually been dreading this for a month or so. But this is how it is in New York: you put up with terrible showers and feeling ugly and uncool for the ability to go to bars full of beautiful and/or stylish people at midnight on a Tuesday.

Christmas is peeking at me

2005-12-08T00:58:00.000-05:00

"Oh great," you may be thinking, "yet another misanthropic post about how Sarah hates a holiday that brings warmth and joy to the rest of the human race." I don't have a great track record, I know. But! I am a big fan of Christmas and all its surrounding holiday friends. I love everything about this time of year. The lights and the songs and the wreaths and the trees with the ornaments and lights and the wrapped presents sitting around the ornamented lit tree and the Santas and the snow that happens in some of the places I live and the sweaters and the egg nog and the ham and the everything!

Christmas has even managed to perk up this finals season! There is a person on my floor who has done me quite the mitzvah* by hanging a Happy Holidays wreath on their door. But not just any wreath: a wreath made of real pine boughs!!! So everytime I walk by, no matter what my mood (which have been running on the foul side as of late), I will suddenly be surprised by a whiff of the best smell in all the world. I smile every time.

It's lovely, just lovely.

*I am not sure that I used that word properly in the context of the sentence, however, I felt it appropriate to express how greatly my neighbor has improved my life plus I wanted to give a little shout out to those of us celebrating Chanukah this year.

Tangentially...

2005-12-06T09:54:00.000-05:00

Exam #1 today: Torts.

That is a picture that came up when I image searched for battery. This was one of the possible designs for the new WTC by Fosters. He's the architect who did the enclosure of the courtyard at the British Museum (as I'm sure you know):

Fosters is partial to using panes of glass which are so intricately designed and must so precisely fit together that only a computer is able to do the calculations necessary. I think it's pretty excellent looking and it does a lovely job of creating an indoor space that still retains some feeling of being outdoors. Plus, before this roof was built, that round building you see in the picture was a shed and the ground was dirt. Vast improvement.*

Next we have the best nicknamed building ever to exist, also designed by Foster: The Erotic Gherkin. London has this weird thing about tall buildings as they don't want anything to block the view of St. Paul's cathedral (kinda like those silly city planners in DC with America's Unerotic Pointy Dildo). So Fosters designed the EG to look not quite so skyscrapery by rounding the sides, which creates a shortening effect. The problem is that not a lot of businesses were racing to get a space inside because of those rounded exterior walls last time I was in London: less usable floor space for your money. I think its awesome however and would definitely locate my business in those erotic, pickley walls.*

In fact, I think Fosters is an excellent architect and I wish that he was the designer of the new WTC. I mean, look at those towers up there: straight walls are so...20th century. And in general, I think London's architecture is some of the best, innovative, and most interesting in the world. New York could do with an infusion. And don't ask me to call them the Freedom Towers...because I won't.

So yeah, torts.

*So, this post has lost most of its magic from the disappearance of one of the pictures and the very friendly and nice threat of legal action by the owner of another. So, if you want to see what I'm talking about I suggest you google the names. Or you could just not care.

Google me!

2005-12-04T00:06:00.000-05:00

Well, not me exactly...but my blog!

If you type callmedolyn into Google, you get this.

If you type call me dolyn, you get this.

I feel so important, even Google knows me. Of course, the only people who would type in callmedolyn are people who already know about the blog, but I care not. I mean, when you type Sarah Conway into Google you get this...so really, anything's an improvement.

Competitive Advantage

2005-11-30T15:17:00.000-05:00

For my non-law student readers, let me explain a thing or two about how finals work in law school. First, for basically every class the final is the one and only grade we get. A semester of busting our asses (well, some of us bust our asses...I'm not sure as to the intactness of my own butt quite frankly) and we have one chance to show it. Which is further complicated by the second thing one must know about law school finals: grades are curved here. Only around 12 As are given in a section of 100+ students. 75% of the class gets some form of a B and maybe 5 people get Cs. Well Sarah, that's not too bad you say. That's a lot of Bs and Bs aren't terrible. This brings me to the third point: Georgetown is full of overacheivers. We are people who are used to getting As. Who have historically been upset at Bs. And here we are being told that the VAST majority of us will have to live with Bs.

One hears horror stories of what testing like this does to people. Tales of deleted outlines and pages ripped out of library books. Legends of teary-eyed students who cannot get the notes from the day of Civ Pro they missed because they had the flu that day.

I had not, however, experienced anything like this at Georgetown. In fact, this has been a strikingly friendly environment: full of smiles, hellos, and note and outline sharing. That was until finals began to rear its ugly (and hairy) head. The stress is taking hold and people are getting a bit shady. Nothing quite as terrible as described above has happened to me, but nevertheless I feel I have been the victim of someone's attempts at obtaining a competetive advantage.

In geneeral, I haven't had the friendliest comments as of late. But the one posted on my Schrag post seems particularly hellbent on shaking me up:

"I hope you get your $160,000.00 worth of A's this semester...no pressure...

the big firms don't tolerate the B's

and with this blog tying up all your time...HOW IS you civ-pro outline going? I hope you have been reading your Glannon...

Now what was the holding of Parkland Hosiery v. Shore?"

Anonymously trying to pysche me out , huh? Well, it ain't going to work buddy. My outlines are stellar and notes impeccable. My memory is like a sponge and Glannon is my uncle. And I'd tell you what the holding of Parkland is, but then I'd be losing my competitive advantage now wouldn't I?

Besides, I've got an ace up my sleeve: his name is Tim and he's sick. If you don't watch yourselves anonymous commentors, I'll have David learn your identity and make Tim cough on you. Don't say you haven't been warned.

Nothing says Finals Season like hair growth

2005-11-29T09:43:00.000-05:00

I propose a contest this finals season to see who can grow the most hair due to total lack of concern for personal hygiene and total obsession with all things law-related.

Men should grow facial hair. Women can grow out their leg hair (there has been some complaining that this doesn't count because one cannot see the hair, so weather permitting perhaps I shall wear a skirt on finals days to show off my winning leg hair).

Tim, Tony, and I have already gotten growing. So I suggest you put those razors away in favor of books and outlines. Because there's nothing like a pointless contest to ease one through a painful testing period.

UPDATE: those of us who shave our heads can grow that hair out for the contest as well. In fact, I think that'll be the most fun hair growth of all!!

A Meeting

2005-11-28T11:31:00.000-05:00

I woke up yesterday morning at 10:20 to find myself being stared at by a small, blond child and her brother and her parents. I was at the airport, stretched out across some seats (only 2 as I was curled in a tight ball, trying to keep in contact with all of my bags, so don't give me guff about taking up seating on the busiest travel day of the year). There are a couple of reasons why I was where I was: 1) My dad is a crazy, crazy man who required I leave for the airport at 7 am. I was through security by 8 am, leaving me a good three hours to kill. I used much for this time for napping because 2) I did not get much sleep this break. Between early morning tennis and movie going with the parents and late night fun-times with not my parents, I was not a well-rested young lady yesterday morning, hence the much-watched nap.

An example of such non-parent related fun times: The night before my flight, I had met up with a bunch of people for beer at BJs (a restaurant/brewery). This branch was located in the valley. Not a very hip or happening locale but this turned out not to matter. The group included one of my life-long best friends, Jessie (I've known her since the first grade), one of my best friends from high school, Lizzy, one of my best friends from NYU, Kim, and an LA friend I met through my sister, Nate. Besides Jessie and Lizzy, no one knew any one else except for me who knew everyone. And while such a situation can sometimes be the death knell for fun, such was not the case. Through the ensuing conversation and laughter, I learned the following things about myself and my friends:

a) I have good taste
b) my friends are funny
c) my friends are interesting
d) my friends are clever and witty
e) my friends are friendly

While the direct evidence for these assertions came from only 4 of my friends, I feel that the randomness of the sample (again, I know all these people from such different parts of my life) shows that the above facts must be true for all my friends.

So, rock on buds o mine. You are totally worth the lost hours of sleep.

I don't like Thanksgiving

2005-11-24T19:33:00.000-05:00

Surprise! Another holiday I don't enjoy. There are quite a few kids, so keep reading through out the year to see which holidays I disapprove of. I have a few reasons why I don't like this one:

1. While I like sliced turkey on sandwiches, I do not like chunks of it straight from the bird. This puts a damper on the holiday meal.
2. I don't like that in many (most) families, the women slave away all day to make one stupid meal, while the men sit around (or play pool) and watch football. Just not fair I say. Plus, how many of those men do the dishes afterwards, huh?
3. I do not like how the leftovers last for days and days. Getting grosser with each passing hour. But still, they must be eaten.

Still, there were good parts of the day. Such as 11:30 am tequila shots with my mother as part of the cooking tradition. And seeing my childhood friend Cara. Cara and I grew up together, dancing in her mom's dance studio. We both went to New York for college (me NYU, she Columbia) and hung out in the city maybe twice in our New York lives. But I got to see her this Thanksgiving and it was great being around someone who has known me and my family for so long. An example of her ability to see to the heart of the Conway household:

Cara on my house: "What I love about your house is that some things never change. The clock is the same, the bookshelf is the same, the phone, the pencil sharpeners. But the tvs always get better."

Which they do. See, look how perceptive Miss Cara is.

And of course, it was great to be around my family. And to not be in DC. And to not be doing work. I mean, all and all it was a fine holiday. Too bad there was just so much turkey involved.

Brunch comes to DC and treats me like garbage!

2005-11-21T00:16:00.000-05:00

Last week a new place opened in my little corner of DC: Clyde's. Lo and behold, Clyde's sells brunch! The first of its kind around here. And so I go with Cecil to experience my first brunch since living in DC.

I have never had brunch in such a mammoth location before. Two stories, with wood paneling, fake planterns as tall as the ceiling, and stone statues* of horned gophers or imps or something. It was also the busiest brunch scene I've seen this side of Cheesecake Factory or Coffee Shop on a friday afternoon, though the crowd scewed much more C.F. than C.S.

Cecil and I wait maybe 4 minutes before being led through a maze of rooms and tables to our seat. We wait maybe 15 minutes before we flag someone down to take our order. Our waitress asks some random guy to take it. He does. We wait maybe half an hour for our entres to arrive. They come before our appetizer, which we ask for. And, my order of french toast is a little wrong (sausage instead of bacon) and comes without syrup. Which I ask for and get promptly. The appetizer soon follows. The food sits in front of us for maybe half an hour. Finally, someone remembers us and takes our plates away. 7 minutes later our server arrives with what I gladly welcome as the bill. It is a dessert menu. She is offering us free dessert because of the poor service. We don't want dessert, but it was lousy service so we order sorbet. 20 minutes later the single scoop of sorbet neither of us wanted shows up. 10 minutes later, the bill.

We escape into the fall air a good 2 hours later than we had come. Sadly, this was not the day for a leisurely brunch. We both had memoing to do.

Still, if I wasn't going to LA tomorrow, I'm sure I'd be there again next weekend. A girl needs her brunch after all.

*I made the typo here and wrote statutes instead. As you can see I caught it, but I almost left it for the glimpse into my inner mind it provides. Though this does just as well.

A Game

2005-11-17T12:10:00.000-05:00

Thanks to my drunkenness one night in a bar, I took a picture (ok, fine...pictures) of myself in the mirror.Which, in a fit of vanity, I sent to Chris to ingeniously fiddle with on photoshop. In my defense, I had hoped he'd do something crazy and face-obscuring perhaps. But he didn't. Instead he made it red aaaaaaaaaaaand did something else.

But what else did he do?! I present to you my own version of the bar touchscreen game favorite: Erotic Photohunt. Only a few variations: there are no boobs in mine, there's only one difference to be found, and if you touch the screen all you will get are fingerprints on your computer.

Ok, this may be lame and obvious. I know I had a hard time finding the change when I was looking at them separately, but seeing them together like this, it doesn't look too difficult. But I don't care. Chris made the effort to fiddle and I made the effort to post, and whatever it's my blog not yours so shut up about it!

The Little One is 21!!

2005-11-16T17:36:00.000-05:00

That's right folks, Katie is legal in all ways now! Well, except for the much anticipated cheap car rental way, but who cares about that as cars can't get you drunk. Because Katie is in Barcelona for the semester, the excitement of this event is a bit dulled since she's been sipping sangria legally ever since arriving. But fear not Katie, you and I shall celebrate your birthday properly, if a bit belatedly, when you arrive back in the States!

I was unable (and by unable I mean too lazy and cheap) to send my sister a present all the way in Spain* and clearly can't celebrate with her, so to honor my sister on this most special of days here is a little photo retrospective of Katie:
Katie's zeroth birthday: As the agape mouth testifies, I found her to be awesome from the start.

Katie's Toddler Birthday: It was a decorate-your-own-cookie extravaganza! And a departure from the usual Katie Conway birthday of having this clown lady come in to sing folk songs on a guitar. Another tradition of the clown lady parties would be bossy, terrible Big Sister Sarah taking the birthday drum away from Katie and drumming the number of years she was (I promise I didn't steal her cookies at this party).My dad and sister have had a special relationship from the start, due greatly to their similar temperments I believe. She's really his favorite (and I have loads of reasons why I think this involving roller skates and telephones on birthdays, but it's Katie's day so who am I to complain?) Also pictured here is Katie's baby blanket that was stolen the same day as mine.

Ah, family vacations. We've had a bunch of them. This is most likely picture 4,000 taken on the Alaskan cruise (the digital camera was one of the worst things to happen to our family's vacations. My father once made my sister and I stand for 15 minutes in front of the statue of David trying to get just the right shot, "I want to get his dick right between you guys, move more to the right Sarah.") and we've long since stopped smiling. That's Katie's chipmunk face. I love it. Even if I don't look like I do.Katie has quite the laugh. Even on im, she manages to express it. It's loud, long, and lovely. When the two of us get together, it can get crazy. DCers, she's coming for her spring break. Prepare your eardrums for the Conway sisters.Documentation of what is a sisterly tradition: me kissing Katie and her not enjoying it in the least. When we were wee ones, she used to wipe them off. When I'd get offended, she'd say, "I'm rubbing them in!"

I wish I could plant one on her right now. She is, quite frankly, my favorite. Happy birthday sister, I miss you!

*My mom, however, was able to send my sister one of her fabulous birthday packages. It included candy, a belt/scarf knitted by my mother, loads and loads of socks, aaaaaaand a lace tank top (clearly a lesser version of my bodysuit, but I am the eldest so it rightfully passed to me).

Phil has taught me but one thing...

2005-11-15T00:32:00.000-05:00

which is that I am a valueless husk of a person, with no ethics or morals to guide me into a legal field that will allow me to help the less-fortunate. I am one of the terrible who will upon graduating law school make $160,000 a year and quickly think it normal to wear $500 suits (or $300 heels, perhaps?)

Furthermore, I am in what appears to be the minority of my section. Most of my fellow students intend to work in public interest or at least bemoan the fact that they may lose their values.

"Oh," they cry, "if only it weren't for the loans that shall force me to become a soul-less minion of a big firm, hiding documents from poor innocent litigants in discovery!! Woe is me!"

Here's my dark secret: I don't have loans. I still want to make over $100,000 out of the gate. And fuck those litigants with their poorly worded document requests.

At least I cannot mourn the passing of values I never had.

Streetwalker

2005-11-12T18:44:00.000-05:00

Let me preface this post by saying that I realized the other day that I am happy here in DC and that I like the life I am living. That being said, nothing makes me feel more melancholy than walking the streets of DC alone. I believe this is because of living in New York. Here's why:

People
DC: The streets are just so desolate. The only people I see around are old people, touristy looking groups, preppy looking couples, homeless people, and security guards. Each and every one of these groups depress me in its own unique and awful way.
NYC: The streets are full of people at any time of day. And the sheer variety of people is incredible. Plus, there are always hip good looking people to check out and gather tips on how one can increase their own coolness.

Buildings
DC*: The buildings around are all government offices or closed up lunch shops for the government workers. If there are stores, they are part of a chain. There is nothing, nothing, nothing to look at.
NYC: Interesting places galore! Stores of all kinds lining the streets. Restaurants with people sitting at sidewalk tables enjoying delicious brunches. I cannot walk down the street for more than a block or two without finding a store or restaurant I want to frequent.

My usage:
DC: I walk around alone only when it is required of me in order to reach some destination. I feel a sadness in the depths of my soul the whole time. I believe this is due to the fact that I have nothing interesting to look at and inspire thought so instead I find myself pondering all the sadnesses of my life.
NYC: I would walk around for fun, just to kill some time. During my summer of barely a job, I'd revel in my walks around Lower Manhattan and often find my mood elevated. Very few things have felt as good to me as walking down a street in New York, marveling at its pure amazingness and thinking, "this is my home."

Again, I'm happy. I just do not like these DC streets.

*disclaimer: this is only in reference to the area I live in. I do know there are better, more interesting neighborhoods in DC. I just haven't been to them.

It appears they'll bring anything back

2005-11-10T22:41:00.000-05:00

I understand that much of fashion is the recycling of previous looks with new hip twists. Like capri pants: a nice shout out to the 1940s (or 50s? or 30s?? whatever...you get the point). Or Molly's whole essence: a hip revamping of a 1930s starlet.

I've never loved this whole retro thing. I don't understand why we can't have a style all our own, though I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that there is nothing original left in this world of ours. But I could tolerate the re-emergence of some styles, even wear and enjoy them...except for capris. I shun capris. But I always thought there were certain eras that would never return. First, I thought the 80s would be off limits...but slouch boots showed up. And popped collar Lacoste polos. And Members Only jackets. I'm not going to lie, I was horrified. But I survived and even found parts of it good looking. Well, really only the slouch boots and mostly only on Mel.

Regardless, there was one decade I never thought I would see again. Specifically, one part of a decade: the early 90s. A time when nothing looked good. I felt safe in knowing that surely no one in their right mind would try to bring back that god awful time period in clothing.

That was until tonight, when The OC, arbiter of all that is cool, shocked my conscience. First, they dressed Summer in what must have been a discarded costume of Shannen's from the days of 90210. She was in a shin-length, black, floral print dress with short sleeves and pockets!! Worn with tall black boots.
AWFUL! Note the vest by the way. While I've yet to see anything as atrocious as that, vests are being worn as any reader of my comments may know. So my fellow viewers and I (Tim and Nic) gasped and bitched about how they just could not bring back the 90s. Tim calmed us all by saying, "as long as they don't bring back plaid flannels."

We relaxed, thinking, ah yes. True. Surely, no one would bring those back. NEXT FUCKING SCENE Marissa's new side boy is dressed in none other than a red plaid flannel. Unbuttoned of course, over a t-shirt.
See, look how even handed I am. I put up a glam shot of flannel over shirt with a famous person wearing it no less (at least, I'm told he's famous). And it still. looks. like. shit.

So, please. Don't let this silliness go any further. But if you do, be warned you shall be judged merciless by me now and some comedians on VH1 in 10 years. And you will deserve it.

Zican't!

2005-11-10T09:10:00.000-05:00

I am getting sick. I believe this is because my body knows that I am going back home (CA home, not NY home) soon, where my hypochondracyl father resides. It's not a holiday if my father can't touch me for fear of germs. Sad as that is, that's not the worst part of this impending illness (sorry Pops, I shall miss your hugs). No, the worst part is I have a strict schedule of thinking and learning and studying and outlining that I have to keep to. I do not have time to feel foggy-headed, slow, and generally icky.

And so, like the good daughter I am, I am following my parent's advice. Which involves shoving goop in my nose once every four hours for the next week and a half. But not just any goop. Zicam goop. According to Zicam officials, Zicam is:

Clinically proven to get you over your cold three times faster
Shortens the cold while reducing the severity of cold symptoms
Unique nasal gel works where the cold starts – in the nose
Convenient, easy to use swab design has no odor or bad taste
Take at the first sign of a cold
Non-drowsy, non-habit forming
Homeopathic
Also available: Zicam Cold Remedy Swabs for Kids – specially designed for little noses!

And so, in my attempt to ward off virii, I will dutifuly shove a q-tip saturated with goo into my nostrils at the required times.

The problem, however, is I don't really think this shit works. I do it every time I start getting a cold. For 4 or 5 days, I'll plan my day in four hour incriments, bringing q-tips around every where I go. By the 5th day, with no shortening of cold duration or lessening of symptoms, I quit. And remain sick for another week or so.

Which I tell my parents. To which they always respond, you just didn't do it long enough. So, here I go trying it again. Hopefully it'll work this time 'round. Unless, of course, I actually have bird flu. In which case, of course, I'll just die...with or without Zicam.

Good Apollo I'm Burning Star IV, Volume One: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness

2005-11-09T00:58:00.000-05:00

I was shamed last night.

I consider myself to be a Coheed and Cambria uber-fan. I have all their full length cds (I even purchased 2 of them!) and I own both issues of the comic book AND the graphic novel on which their music is based. So not only am I obsessed with their music itself, but I have also done my absolute best to become engrossed in the thoroughly complicated storyline that surrounds it all.

Futhermore, I saw them this summer in NYC and rocked out hard at the concert. I braved mosh pits to get as close as possible to the stage. I would have taken part in the stage diving if I hadn't been wearing incorrect footwear that would have flown about leaving my poor feetsies in danger of a good stomping. I got as close as I ever have to entering into a phsycial altercation with a stranger.*

This time around, however, I was far far far from being among the rabid fans. And this is apparently the crowd Coheed expects to draw these days, as they played up the experience as much as possible. First, they spread out the soundcheck over a half an hour, which I found annoying. The crowd, however, screamed and cheered and clapped with abandon every time a new instrument was checked. Not only that, but instead of getting tired of the wait, they got more excited the further into the soundcheck we went. Coheed also used a large amount of stage decoration to rile everyone up. A Coheed standard was raised, eliciting massive excitement from the crowd. And when the 18 ft tall winged guillotine stage prop came out...the energy could scarcely be contained. The crowd sang along to every song and was able to sustain a rocking level of loudness when Claudio (the lead singer) dropped out to feel the waves of adoration pouring out at the band. And the crowd really went crazy went Claudio played his double-headed guitar with his teeth. The crowd even cheered and chanted for an encore (don't worry guys, they're coming back anyway...can we somehow please end the charade that is the encore?).

Maybe I was out of the intense enthusiasm loop because I'm just too much of a cynic to get that excited at a concert, even if they are my favorite band. Maybe it was because I had worn sneakers in the hopes of getting to stage dive this time around (I didn't), which meant I couldn't see a confounded thing. Mind you, this is not to say I didn't have a rocking time. I definately did. I just felt a bit left out of my fellow Coheedians' passionate embrace of the band I love.

In an effort to make up for my failings at the concert last night, I direct my readers who do not know the band (which is a good many of you) to their website where you can see two of their videos for the new album. I recommend you watch Welcome Home first, because The Suffering is just cracked out to the max. But don't hold that against them, the songs still rock. But seriously, go watch and listen. I beg you. If only so I don't receive so many blank stares when I mention them.

* This tall dude was jumping up and down to the music and totally elbowed me in the head like a trillion times. And I know that elbows don't have m/any nerves, but come on, my skull made an impact I'm sure. I charged at him in a throw down kind of way and his friend held me back. To my utter dissapointment.

I wonder if they recognized me?

2005-11-06T02:48:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I attended an a cappella concert at the Gtown campus. I went to see my high school best friend's brother. And my best friend from high school. And their mother. But this blog isn't about them. It's about who else was performing that night: none other than the NYU N'Harmonics. Who I had never heard of until arriving at the concert. But let me tell you, they brought it. And by it, I mean a palpable New York-ness that made me soul yearn.

Of course, much of this New York spirit was embodied in their look. While the other a cappella groups all wore varying degrees of matching outfits (including 1 all-boys group where every member wore the same exact striped tie), the NYUers each wore whatever the hell they wanted. This included:

- A chick with shaved head, who was wearing a white t-shirt and baggy, long striped shorts. The look was completed with a pair of dangly earrings, pearl choker, and bracelets.

- The requisite boy in blazer.

- Another boy in a t-shirt that said "I jog with Jesus" and cross (Counterintuitively, this turns out not to have been meant in an ironic way but instead in a Christian way [NYU, you sure are diversifying])

- A girl in a pleated jean skirt, some top I didn't notice, and a crazy pink-billed hat.

- Another boy with a self-made sleeveless shirt. Made even more New York (in my opinion) by the presence of his less-than-appealing fat upper arms.

Every single one of them screamed New York. I hope that I maybe whispered it back.

It's time you all know...

2005-11-04T01:31:00.000-05:00

that I am psychic. Not all the time, mind you. But at times, I can see through the dimensions into the time and space that will be. That's why I can explain all the intricacies of time travel:(In case you can't read it...that says Instantaneous Jump, and believe me...it is). Sure, you don't believe me. But here are some further examples of my prowess at knowing the future.

1. I was once at the airport with my family, awaiting our luggage. Katie and I were bored. It'd been awhile. I decided it was time for the bags to come, so I clapped and chanted "1. 2. 3. 4..." and on the fifth count, as I clapped and said "5", the conveyer belt roared to life.

2. I once awoke with a start in my bed, in the middle of the night, for no reason. I was maybe 11 years old. I heard a loud click. Moments later the security alarm roared to life, a rare occurrence. Nothing may have been taken from the house, but my sister never looked at me the same way again....that is until she forgot the incident ever happened.

3. And then there was tonight. I was so right on with tonight's episode of the OC , psychic foresight can be the only explanation. Be warned any reader who did not see tonight's episode but wants to and wants to be surprised when they do. You should stop reading right now....

Right, ok.

So, last episode we learned that bitchy, conniving Taylor was having an affair with the evil Dean of Discipline, who expelled both Ryan and Marissa (though she had shot someone nearly to death and Ryan had punched the evil Dean of Discipline in the face). At the beginning of this episode, I declared, "That story line is ending today and Ryan will be back in school." It was so.

Then we saw a close up of Julie Cooper-Nichols looking like she was sunning on the beach. I said, "She is at the motel pool". It was so.

Finally, (and mind you that first one is maybe a bigger deal than it appears) I said along with Ryan on the screen, "...my life is here with you." You being Marissa. But they are getting into an issue next weekend....over a new guy...again.

Anyway, nothing roared to life, and I was definitely annoying to watch the show with, but at least tonight demonstrates my deftness with the All-Seeing Eye.

UPDATES RE: THE EYE

11/7: There was a giant stage prop at the Coheed and Cambria concert tonight. Between 2 songs, I turned to my gentleman escort and said, "That thing is going to flap open." Moments later, the contraption roared to life revealing a winged guillotine. Which I also called, but that's because I'm a Coheed nerd and has nothing to do with psychic ability.

11/8: See Molly's blog. It is imperative that you follow the instructions at the top of the entry to understand the full magnitude of my impressive foresight.

11/9: When we first introduced to the survivors from the back of the plane in Lost, I said to Tim, "We are gonna get some episodes about them from the beginning." And we are...next week.

When Parents and the Internet Collide

2005-11-02T17:19:00.000-05:00

While this post is about both of my parents, I feel it necessary to make clear that my father is in fact a computer savvy guy. Always on the cutting edge...he has three computers in his office for god's sake. That doesn't mean that I can't enjoy my computer-based interactions with the man. When Katie moved to Barcelona for the semester my dad rediscovered AIM as a form of communication to keep in touch with his two daughters. Our IM interactions consist of the random "f" or "g" he will IM every once in a while to see what my away message is and a chat every so often. This was part of today's:

He: hello honey
Me: hello daddy
***(section deleted)***
He: whats up with you
Me: im in the library
Me: doing some work
He: I got to run to a meeting
He: talk to you soon
He: DAD

So, THAT'S who I was talking to. The line between email and iming is a small, but distinct one. Part of that line is that one does not need to sign an im conversation. It's tantamount to me ending a conversation with someone saying, "ok, I gotta run....Sincerely, Sarah".

Then, there is my mother. She has also taken to iming and man, oh man. It's a good time. She has taken great strides towards IM competency, but it was a rough start. The main trouble at first was the differences between those 3 buttons in the top right corner (minimize v. maximize v. close). She would minimize an IM box and lose it. Would have no idea where it had gotten to. She started putting up away messages referencing Shakespeare or other things beyond me and would click the X and it'd be gone, many times without her realizing it. Once my sister and I tricked my mom into coming into a chatroom with us. She freaked and we laughed. But she was getting good at the internet. Bookmarking webpages even.

And then my dad got her a new computer. A Mac. And so ended my mom's great advances. I talked to her on the phone one night to direct her to this very website. Here's my rendition of that conversation:

Me: Here Mom, I'll send you the link.
She: Oooh, my little guy is jumping! He's just so cute.
Me: Yes, I agree.
***(section edited)***
Me: How do you like that one click mouse?
She: Oh, I hate it! I hate the fucker. But I do like how the light goes on and off. Oooooon and ooooooff....On, off.
Me: That's the computer breathing.
She: What?!?! Whaaaat?!? Breathing??! It doesn't breathe, Sarah...it's inanimate!!
Me: I know Mom, but that's what it's called when the computer is sleeping.
She: Sleeping?!?! Breathing?!? Don't tell me this. I'm freaked out by the computer now. I'm backing away....

Both my mom and dad have commented on this blog as well. Speaking of which, don't be mad about this post guys, it's meant with great warmth and love. And Mom, don't be mad I put up a picture of you smoking.

Karma, you are so good to me

2005-10-31T17:41:00.000-05:00

A lesson on why it is good to be good:

1. Once while working as the coat check girl at NYU Law School my senior year of college, a girl came up to me and handed me a twenty dollar bill. "I found this in the bathroom," she said. "Oh, um, well I'll keep it here to see if anyone claims it," I said, quite confused as to why this girl wasn't keeping her windfall. And so that 20 dollar bill sat next to me for the entirety of my shift as I waited someone to come take it away, which no one did. And clearly no one was going to. And yet, I took the 20 dollar bill and gave it to the security guard on duty. I figured if the girl who found it had been so morally upstanding as to turn it in to me, I shouldn't be the one to reap the benefits of her good nature. The security guard looked just as confused as I am sure I had.

2. Last friday, a group of us law schoolers (Emily, Tim, Kristen, and Tony) sat a table in Hotung that had a laptop (an iBook) on it. We figured the presence of the laptop meant someone was using the table, but it was by the fire and there were more of us. We waited for them to return, so we could tell them to screw off. An hour went by and no one came back for the poor computer, shocking considering there are weekly reports of laptops being stolen. As we were getting up to leave, I toyed with the idea of taking the iBook. I would surely have given it a better home and it would also have satiated my desire to teach people lessons for being idiots and leaving belongings unattended (like the time in Nice, France that I wanted to steal people's laundry because they left the laundromat). Instead, I turned it in to the security guard.

Today, all that turning in of goods to security guards paid off.

Because I hadn't wanted to carry a purse around with me while in She-ra costume, I had left my purse in someone's room Sat. night and placed my belongings in S.Med's purse. Today, she returned this purse to me at school. Because I am a mess and lose things, I lost the purse. I looked for it, but it was not to be found. It had even been sighted in a location where it no longer was. It appeared that it had been taken and was not being turned in. I spent the day shaking my finger at myself for having been good those times and not stealing from others when clearly everyone else steals from idiots who lose things...until I got a call saying the purse had been turned in!

Yay humanity! Yay karma! Yay purse!

Besides, who really needs 3 laptops and a desktop?

Epilogue: Princess of Power

2005-10-30T18:28:00.000-05:00

I am so glad to be done thinking, talking, and posting about Halloween. Though it is on Monday, I "celebrated" last night to a) get drunk; and b) give myself a day of recovery from emotional distress if needed.

So, how was my Halloween you ask? It was fine. I had some fun and went to a pretty good party. Not tear-inducing, not euphoria-giving.

Boring, right? Well...let me tell you about my costume.While stressing online about what the hell to dress as for Halloween, Nate had the very clever suggestion that I go as She ra. And so began my quest to create such a costume. $35 dollars (give or take), one long ass trip to Target, one hellish trip to Home Depot, one long walk to The Paper Store, one quick stop at The Pleasure Palace, 2 XL men's tee shirts, 2 sheets of black posterboard, 4 ruined socks, one can of spray paint, trillions of pieces of glitter, 2 rods of hot glue, one red plastic tablecloth, one plastic sword (with battle sounds!) and shield, one bottle of body glue, and waaaaaay too many hours later I finished.

All for one night? Was it worth it Sarah? I tell you what: the best part of this not-too-shabby Halloween o'mine was making my costume. I had no idea I could be so successfully crafty. Lots of people recognized me as She ra (some thought Wonder Woman, but I can't be responsible for people's colorblindness) and I got to be part of the accidental costume group Your 80s Childhood:
But still, the amount of work I put into this sucker was intense and I had hoped to be able to wear the costume for every dress up event for the rest of my life. This will not, however, be the case. Though usually I am the one who spills drinks on people at drunken gatherings, last night She ra and I took quite an alcoholic beating. It was a red wine and vodka cranberry bloodbath. Not to mention the full glass of margarita that got spilled on me (thankfully a clear beverage).I like to think of it not as staining alcohol, but instead as the blood of my enemies (if you click on the picture, the stains should be more obvious) . Regardless, I don't believe I can wear the costume again, but it hangs in my closet anyway. I didn't have the heart to throw it out quite yet.

IV. Halloween makes Sarah hysterical

2005-10-28T12:21:00.000-04:00

Let's just jump right in to this, the climax of my Halloween horrors.

Senior Year:

I had had enough. I was taking a stand this year. I stated plainly to all of my friends that this year I was not wearing a costume and that I was not going to a place where one was required. People agreed. People said, "Yeah Sarah, no costumes this year." I felt at peace. I was going to make it through this one.

Or was I?

The plan had been that I would go over to Chris's place and some uncostumed fun would occur. I got dressed, made up, and bejeweled and awaited Chris's call to action. Which shortly thereafter came. Along with some earthshattering news.

"Hey Sarah, turns out that we are going to some costume parties..."

With these words, something in me snapped and I believe that something was emotional restraint. I began to sob. Chest heaving, hard to breathe, face reddening sobs came pouring out of me. Here's a synthesis of some of the phrases that managed to escape my mouth between wails (insert at various points Chris saying things like, "It's fine" "It will still be fun" "No one will care"):

"I'm not going out then. I'll stay home alone. I don't want to be that guy at the party not in a costume, no one likes that guy. I really don't want to dress up, but I don't want people to think I'm lame. I hate Halloween! I hate it hate it hate it hate it!"

My favorite argument I used against Chris trying to get me to calm down and leave the house was this:
C: "Sarah, just come over and we'll go to the party and no one will care."
Me: "I can't! I've already cried off all my makeup!"

And indeed, I had. Once I got off the phone, telling Chris that I would be spending my Halloween alone and weeping, I also ripped off my clothes, threw on some big t-shirt as my final protest, and flung myself onto my bed to continue sobbing.

THE END

Or is it?

No, this was not how my Halloween ended. As Char says, I'm a pretty rational gal. And so, after maybe five minutes of continued sobbing, I thought, "Enough. Do you really want to do this all night? Of course not. Get re-dressed, re-made up, and re-bejeweled and go be that guy at the party with no costume"

I went to two costume parties sans costume and it was ok. No stones were thrown. At one I was given a witch's hat and was able to be Sabrina the Teenage Witch for the 13.5 seconds we were at that party. At the second, I just told people that I was a Bitch this year. I was a bit shaky all night and didn't really have fun per se, but I made it out. I did not let Halloween get me down. Well, not for too long anyway.

III. Halloween makes Sarah's head hurt or Halloween makes Sarah lame

2005-10-27T14:42:00.000-04:00

While reading the now defunct Mystery Georgetown Law blog this morning, I was reminded of yet another reason why I hate Halloween. I hate the fact that most successful female costumes have to be sexy or slutty in some way. Boys can be gross, or funny, or clever...but most people expect girls to look somewhat hot on Halloween. This goes against all my feminist values, and yet, here I am planning how to make what promises to be a pretty slutty costume. Maybe being slutty on Halloween can equal both great fun and the revocation of all my principles.

Junior Year:

I had really really tried this year to have a costume for the big day. And had really really failed. Halloween arrived (a Saturday this year) and I had no costume. I found myself in another funk with some mild pouting again. I had various invitations to do things that night, but without a costume I was not going to a one of them. After heated iming with many people and discussion with my roommates, I half-heartedly suggested this: "Well...I guess I could wear board shorts, a wife beater and Mardi Gras beads and be a Girl Gone Wild."

All my friends, knowing from previous experience of my penchant for Halloween dramatics, enthusiastically took up the cause. "GREAT IDEA SARAH! YOU TOTALLY HAVE TO!!" And so I did, with one modification. I put on a nude bra and taped a black censor bar printed from the internet on to it (this was Chris's idea, I had wanted to tape pictures of boobs but it didn't look.....right). I was costumed! And out the door with Hunter S. Thompson, Dr. Gonzo, and some Ninja Turtles to a party at another NYU dorm for Halloween hilarity and hijinks!

This dorm (13th St. to those of you who are NYU saavy) was the scariest thing about any Halloween I've had for a good long while. First, to get to the pre-party dorm room, we had to walk through what can only be described as an underground rape tunnel. Dark, moldy smelling and full of sharp turns for crazed rapists to hide around, this tunnel exists to connect two buildings together allowing NYU to save money by only posting one guard at the door for both. Somehow, we got through without incident and arrived at a lively pre-game. There were costumes and drinking games and laughter and fun....for everyone but me. I was quiet and morose and was having one of those drinking experiences where with each beer I drank I felt just as sober as before only with a worsening headache.

But, I tried to be a trooper. I was being no fun and am aware of this, but I continued with the night by heading to the party-party. Again, a lame one. Full of people I didn't know and didn't want to know. I mean, I can be a social one, lively and loud. But I was none of these things. I remember little of this party besides wanting to leave it immediately. Things were boring...boring....boring....boring.....AND THEN! Chris got a call from Dan, who we had thought was at the party with us. And from this emerges my only good memory from this Halloween. And strangely enough, this one also involves an elevator and is also why 13th St. dorm is so very scary.

So, Dan has just called Chris saying, "Get into the elevator and come to the 1st floor."
Chris: "But wh-"
Dan: "Just DO IT!"

We do it. We get in the elevator, press 1. We arrive at one, the doors open, we start to get out when a panicked Dan comes flying at us yelling, "Don't get out of the elevator!! Don't get out!!"
Turns out that this had been a rescue mission. Dan, trying to get out to have a cigarette had understandably pressed the first floor button, complete with handy star to indicate the ground floor. No sooner had the elevators doors closed behind him that he realized that there was no way off this floor. The only door had a BIG sign that said: DO NOT EXIT ALARM WILL SOUND. The elevator call buttons had been disconnected. For this was the unmanned entrance. Dan was stuck. Until we came and saved him from eternity in a dank purgatory, providing us with a good hearty, rolling on the ground laugh and serious worries about NYU's concern for our safety and well being.

Directly after this, still mit headache, I decide it is time to go home. Dan and Chris walk me back to our dorm, where they continue on for more craaaaaazy Halloween celebrations. I ended the night quietly. Nightcap with Char and the M followed by bed around midnight. Yes, that's right...midnight. I care not whether my Halloween ended early because my head was throbbing or because I am lame. All I know is that the end was welcome.

II. Halloween makes Sarah irrational

2005-10-26T22:53:00.000-04:00

I've been stressed out like mad this week and I blame Halloween. Fucker. Aaaaanyway:

Sophomore Year:

Let me preface this with a "quote" from Char: "Sarah, I think you are one of the most rational people I've ever met....EXCEPT for that Halloween sophomore year when you were out of control."

What happened Sophomore year? Well, I had what can only be called a tantrum. I do not remember the night up until I was sitting in a room, either Char and the M's or Chris and Naveen's, and people were surrounding me in costume. Good costumes:

That is a pic of Chris as one of the N'Sync boys, Hussein as a punk rock kid (dressed by Molly) and Naveen as a Starbuck Coffee cup.

Here is a pic of Char and Sarah M. (and I was not super close with the M yet) as a gypsy and Avril:

And there I sat. With no costume. None. And so, I pouted. To a ridiculous degree. As though I were five. Here's an exerpt:

Me: "No! I don't want to go to a party! I don't have a costume. I hate Halloween! I hate costumes!"
A Friend: "But Sarah, we want you to come out with us. What would you be if you could be anything made out of cardboard?"
Me: "Nothing! I want to be nothing! I haaaaaaate Halloween *pout pout pout*"
Friend: "There must be something."
Another friend (very likely Molly): "You like monkeys...." (and I do. I LOVE monkeys)
Me: Well...I guess I could be a girl with a prehensile tail made of carboard!"

And so, I was. So dressed, we headed "out" via the service elevator. And here is the best (and by best I mean only good) memory of this night:

The elevator we were in was, again, the service elevator. And because of that it does not look like a normal elevator. Molly says, wasted:
And in a panic, "Are we going underground?!?!"
Char, not batting an eye: "Yeah, that's why the walls have corregated metal on them."
Molly: "I knew it!!"

We were not going underground. We were going to a lame party. Which looked like this:
That's me as a girl with a tail (look closely and you may see it), Molly as a hot fucking angel, Dan as a Goo Goo Doll, and Chris as the aforementioned N'Sync member.

And that was my Halloween. The only thing I have any real memory of (besides the trip down to the lame ass party) was throwing a total tissy fit. Resulting in me wearing a cardboard tail. And telling people, "Oh, I'm a girl with a tail for Halloween".

Lame, no?

I. Halloween makes Sarah a bitch

2005-10-25T11:38:00.000-04:00

It's that time of year again kids. Halloween's a'coming and I am determined to avoid my annual freakout this year. Halloween and I have a tempestuous relationship at best, and a downright abusive one if we want to be accurate .

It started out beautifully. I got to dress like a princess and Halloween provided me with loads of candy. Then, I started to age and everything went downhill, as my experience with Halloween while at college evidences. It's too long for one post, so guess what, you lucky ducks!! Get ready for a series of Halloween tales that will chill your bones or at least make you think I am utterly and completely ridiculous.

Freshman Year:

This was not the most horrible holiday I've ever experienced...just an awkward one. Let's review the makeup of my social scene at that point in time. I was 2 months into my first year of college, and as we all know, that usually means hanging out with a random ass assortment of people, none of whom you are really suited to. As luck would have it, I wound up living with 2 girls who would turn into college-long (and life-long) friends, but I was also hanging out with an assortment of gentlemen. Two of my best friends at the time (neither of whom I am friends with anymore, but we can blame Chris for that) were sophomore roommates named Ian and Tony. I spent most of my time with these boys, namely because I had a crush on Ian. Despite my habit of spending most nights with these blokes, I had for some reasons made plans with a different boy: a short, hairy kid from Agoura Hills named Ari (I am also not friends with him anymore, but that is entirely my fault. In fact, I think it's because of this night). We had plans to go see a movie to celebrate Halloween, however, I did not want to go with Ari to see a movie on Halloween. So, I had him meet him in Ian and Tony's room, where we proceeded to sit for a good long time while Ian and Tony talked on the phone to other people. It was boring and terrible but I couldn't bring myself to walk out into New York City in all its Halloween splendor. And so I didn't. And so Ari didn't. Some amount of time passed, eons by the feel of it, Ari left, Ian and Tony got off the phone, and I spent the remainder of the evening like it was any other Thursday night.

Looking back, I realize I was a bitch to force Ari to spend his Halloween so. But, fear not. As you will soon see, I've gotten my just deserts for ruining his Halloween....

The Mysterious Figure

2005-10-24T20:37:00.000-04:00

Every evening as the sun sets I look out my window and see what appears to be a man, leaning in the window of the building across the street from me. I haven't noticed him/it every night, but every so often there he/it is. Never moving. Always watching. Which leads me to believe that this cannot be human, but instead is some....thing. But what on earth could it be? It looks so man like. So, I continue to be unsure if it be man or thing staring at me from across the street. Do I take any precautions while changing in case this is a man? Not at all...I figure if you can stand stone still for hours on end, you deserve to see a little boobie.

When NY comes to DC

2005-10-23T22:58:00.000-04:00

The M and Char came to DC this weekend. And boy, oh boy, were they a sight for sore eyes. In many ways, it was the perfect NY in DC weekend. In fact, it reminded me a huge amount of spring break in Montreal (minus one important participant): gray weather, puddles, daytime activity of choice, and all.

Highlights of the trip include:

1. Trip to the Imax to see Safari 3D - glasses and all. We saw lions and elephants and rhinos. And it was like they were in the theater with us. Or something. It may have just looked like dizzy. But see how snazzy we looked:

2. Dinner at Matchbox - a pretty neat restaurant by my apt (imagine that!) We waited for a table longer there than we have ever waited or would wait in NYC. But that was fine: some of us got to flirt with ambiguously gay waiters and we all got to get wasted before dinner time on fancy drinks in martini glasses.

3. Sleeping three to my full sized bed. Actually, it was a bit more than three as Char could not sleep without a stuffed animal to cling to (see Aforementioned Secret Comment to Baby Pillow post for more information). One stuffed creature would not suffice, however, and so Charlotte bedded with 3 instead:

3. Charlotte wanted a brunch as any self-respecting NYer would. I, sadly, could not provide her with one without an extreme exertion of effort. So instead, we went to Hooters with Emily! Good beery times were had by all, followed rapidly by stomach cramping.

And then...they were gone. Leaving behind the large number of pictures I forced them to let me take, random detritus on my desk, warm memories, and a sad Sarah heart.

No wonder I wanna hug him...

2005-10-23T01:16:00.000-04:00

I was watching Lost the other day, a show I devour like so many boar. John Locke was on the screen and I found myself thinking, "I bet he smells like my Grandpa Russell." Strange thought, you may think....UNTIL you see these two men side by side:

My grandpa is Locke. No two ways about it.

That aforementioned Baby Pillow secret comment

2005-10-21T11:27:00.000-04:00

Ok, technical difficulties have led me to post Chris's comment to the Baby Pillow post as its very own post, due to its sweetness in nature and the revelations it provides re: my friends' cosmic destiny to be in each other's lives. Even the M, even though she didn't bring a moldy thing with her to college.

Without further ado (but with a hilarious pic), Chris:

well, i'm proud of you, dear. i apologize that my adeherance to health and safety deprived you of Baby Pillow (who is apparently a "he") over the past few years.

BUT, have i an anecdote for you!!?? yes, in fact, i do:

so, one-time roommates and bff's (as they are wont to be called) Char, Sarah (Dolyn, not The M.), and Moller (Mahler?) each had childhood "friends" who resided on their beds throughout college. the names for said pals/toys were as follows: Teddy (the teddy bear), Baby Pillow (yah...), and Lamby (the stuffed lamb). considering said bff's were coincidentally thrust into friendship and roommatery, this was one of my all-time favorite discoveries (that i made, of course - i mean, the hypothesized nature of time and space is probably my favorite).

N.B. - The M., as a bff and former roommate as well, was polled pre-comment-post to see if she also had a childhood "friend" who followed her to college. the results were as expected: no. however, this does not preclude the existence of a too-aptly named childhood toy/friend in her past.

P.S. - this is a re-post because the internet somehow lost my original (it's coming after me now as well), and i apologize if it does not have the integrity of the original, but only i will ever know that, so... uh... fuck you. no, i didn't mean that.

Baby Pillow

2005-10-20T13:37:00.000-04:00

When I was born, I was given a pillow/blanket combination set. I adored these items (named Baby Pillow and Baby Blanket [almost as creative as naming my black cat Blackie]). Baby Blanket met a tragic end when I was 7 years old. He was stolen, along with the rest of our luggage, during a surprise overnight trip to Disneyland courtesy of my parents. It was not the happiest place on earth that day, oh no.

The only thought that could dry my little eyes was the fact that I had not included Baby Pillow on this ill-fated excursion. So I was able to continue to sleep upon Baby Pillow every night for the next ELEVEN YEARS until I went to college. And truth be told, I did continue to rest my head on his pillowy goodness, just not every night as Chris had declared him gross (I snuck him in when I could).

And, Baby Pillow is gross. I mean, one side looks ok. The other does not. And neither picture does justice to the yellow, aged look of the pillow cover.

So through out college I curbed baby pillow usage. So much so that this summer, he was placed up in a storage loft and was not missed...until I got to DC, where I again began to sleep with him every night. If there is any evidence of my deep discomfort with my move to DC it is Baby Pillow's re-emergence on my bed.

2ish months later, the time has come to say goodbye to Baby Pillow once and for all. He will be making one last journey back to CA this Thanksgiving where he will enter my closet for time immemorial. This may mean I've finally entered into adulthood at age 23. It could be that I've grown comfortable in my new DC life (ha). Or it could just be that his dinginess and general lumpiness has made it impossible for me to cling to him any longer. Regardless of the reason, goodbye Baby Pillow. It's been a great 23 years.

They're not called Flail Your Arms, Scream Woo

2005-10-19T00:24:00.000-04:00

I was at a decent, non-mind blowing Clap Your Hands Say Yeah show tonight, when my eye spied one of my least favorite concert sights: the hand thrust. You know it. The over excited fan, throwing his/her hand into the air with no regard to beat, tempo, or general flavor of the song. Slow ballad? Hand in the air! Rocking song with a rhythm? Hand in the air with rapid, distracting motion. Be it an open palm, a closed fist, or any finger raised, the hand thrust remains my least favorite concert dance move...second only to moshing.

NO NO NO

Those, by the way, are pictures taken with my new camera! Yippee!

Modern Day Horror Story

2005-10-18T15:37:00.000-04:00

Communications technology hates me. Or at least it felt the need to teach me a lesson. Last night technology said to me: "Sarah, you need to stop to talking to other people. Via any means." I said, "but why technology? I need to keep in touch with people around the globe." And technology replied, "because I say so, bitch."

And so, technology piece by piece stole away all my methods of communication. First went my (already fucked up) text messaging. I could receive 'em, but god forbid that I be able to reply. But the worst part was, there was no indication my text hadn't gone through. So, I have no idea who did or didn't get texts from me for the past few days.

Next, iming. Strangely, it took a similar form of malfunction that my texting did. I could receive ims and it looked like I was iming back. But no one could see that I had responded. This was of course before AIM took to signing me off and on very slowly and allowing me to send or receive no ims whatsoever

Then, my cell phone went a bit screwy. Dropped calls and the like. Not a total cut off from the rest of the world, but not a smoothly operating method of communication either.

Finally, the internet pooped out all together. None of my three email addresses worked. No blogs. No nothing. I gave up at this point and did some old fashioned book reading.

Thank god I am not a bionic woman, otherwise I am sure my tongue would have ceased to function. Happily, my natural body out lasted technology's assault on me and when I awoke this morning all was right again.........for now (dum dum dum).

My Day of Cats

2005-10-16T00:44:00.000-04:00

I may not have seen a live cat at all today, but still it was a day of cats. Let's recount it, shall we?

First, I went to the Smithsonian Modern Art Museum where in the gift shop I came across a book called Why Cats Paint. Because apparently they do. Paintings. And they aren't all that bad if the book gives an accurate depiction of cat's ability to paint. All I know is that I NEED a cat painting. And yet, my searchings of the internet (though we must keep in mind I am a terrible googler) have revealed no cat paintings for sale. I do believe that I may just need to commission Rupert to make one for me. C'mon, he looks like an artist, right?

A website found for anyone who wants to further their knowledge of why cats paint (and notice the titles of these works of art; cat people are so weird) : http://www.monpa.com/wcp/

Anyway, later in the day I watched Eddie Izzard's oldest dvd Unrepeatable. He spoke about cats for many a minute, one of my favorite parts being an imitation of a cat "eating":
"So what is this? New and improved you say.....(Eddie stands there looking saucy for a few beats) well, I'm going out."
Hehe.

And finally, Nate found and sent to me this website: http://www.stuffonmycat.com/. Here are some of my favorite pictures off this site:

God, god damn...I need a cat. And some stuff to put on it.

There's nothing quite as fun as...

2005-10-14T21:03:00.000-04:00

making fun of what others are wearing. Here's one of my fav websites that does so:

Go Fug Yourself

And here is its knitting (yes, the craft, knitting!) counterpart:

You Knit What?!

I feel safe knowing I shall never be ripped to shreds by these people for having poor taste. Of course that's only because I am neither famous nor do I knit. But still...safe.

No one celebrates a birthday like Becky

2005-10-12T02:22:00.000-04:00

Every year on Oct. 11 I receive a birthday package from my mother filled to the brim with gift-wrapped gems. In the past, she has given me some ridiculous things, including: pleather pants (freshman year), a "love machine" (a dancing robot that sings and becomes better and better as the batteries fail), wind-up sushi, some quality dvds like Bringing Down the House and Charlie's Angels, and a collection of obscure British mysteries.

But this year...oh but this year. This year, among lovely pairs of socks, shoes, pajama pants, and a ROCKING knife, I received my favorite random gift ever....a white lace BODYSUIT!!! Do we all remember what a body suit is? Let me remind you: it's a leotard like thing with snaps in the crotch. The best part is it is from her own closet.

You may be asking why did your mother give you this?
Well, I posed her the same question and the answer is: "it was all over the fall runways. you wear it with a blazer...it's what everyone is doing."

And I'll tell you what. I went and I tried the white lacy bodysuit on with a skirt and blazer. And I looked not too shabby. But am I gutsy enough to sport a look my mother wore a couple decades ago and look anywhere near as good as she did? Probably not. But I may try anyway.

My favorite advice regarding the bodysuit, besides how to wear it fashionably, was from my roommate Lauren: "don't forget to wear underwear with it". And I had so hoped to feel the cold metal of the snaps on my giner. So some day soon, I will bring fashion from runways onto the streets of DC...while wearing underwear.

Memo 2

2005-10-11T02:07:00.000-04:00

You may from time to time find yourself wondering how many times a person could write "express authorization" in one paragraph and turn it in for a grade*.

The answer: 5 times in 6 sentences.

And I'm pretty sure it's not a terrible legal paragraph.

*no actual grade will be given for this memo. This is law school after all.

A List

2005-10-09T18:57:00.000-04:00

Things I've lost since moving to DC:
1. My driver's license
2. My Georgetown ID (since replaced)
3. My elevator pass (since returned)
4. My mailbox key
5. My shoe strap (found)
6. Chapstick(s)
7. Umbrella

I am a mess.

In other news, I learned today that I am known as more than just Earring Sarah. I am also the Sarah who gets drunk. Oops?

DC has stolen my soul

2005-10-08T03:06:00.000-04:00

Tonight while at the Architecture in Helsinki concert I was told by a friend, "They say dancing comes from the soul, so you must not have one." Now, for those of you who have seen me in action...could you ever have imagined someone telling me I have no soul because of a lack of dancing on my part?!?! DC what have you done to me? Though to be fair to the District, I was in fact moving and doing what many would call dancing at the time of this comment, but I guess just not with the enthusiasm I once had.

The show itself was pretty freakin' great. AiH had 8 band members, I think. I can't be sure because they kept switching instruments and moving all about. For example, at one point the drummer was playing the guitar, the guitarist/lead singer was playing a keyboard, the bassist was playing a different guitar, the second guitarist was playing a plastic flute keyboard duder, the trombone girl was playing the tuba, the keyboardist girl was hitting random "instruments" hung from a string (including, but not limited to a metal goblet and dented serving tray), and the trombone boy was playing the drums. And then everyone switched again when the song was over to all new instruments. The Sufjan Stevens concert also featured much instrument switching. Why is it that these people who are already able to play an instrument are also blessed with the ability to play, like 12 others. Just doesn't seem fair that they get so much musical prowess and I can't even play one stinking violin. And you might be tempted to tell me that's because they made the effort to actually learn these instruments, where as I have just looked at violins longingly and never even touched one. But I don't accept that as an answer...it's obviously because life is unfair and I was dealt a bad musical talent hand.

Speaking of which, my favorite "instrument" used tonight by far was one of those backscratching hands. It may or may not have actually made any sound, but boy did it look fun up there.

Katie's All Growns Up!!!

2005-10-07T16:19:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure who all I've told this to, but....Katie Conway has permanently inked herself! Now, the tattoo she ended up getting was not the original idea posed to me. First, she wanted to get a tattoo of a star, glorious with radiating color, on. her. neck. This from the daughter of James Conway. If you know Jambo, you know that such a thing would not fly. I mean, how would Katie be able to become a successful producer, following in her father's footsteps, if she had a neck tattoo barring her from all respectable studio employment?

And so I pulled out my Sister Veto Card and said, "Oh, hellllls no."

So, she and I discussed various locations where a star could be placed that would be both interesting and concealable. Places like wrists, thumbs, and ankles. We end the conversation undecided and I thought further sisterly brainstorming would occur later on.

The next day, I get imed this:

infinity sign??!?! From whence did this come?? Happily, I think its a lovely, innocuous, cute tattoo on a cute location. So, good job Katie Conway for making excellent decisions without too much interference from your big sister. But, I mean...you wouldn't really have gotten one on your neck, right?

The End of my EBay Saga

2005-10-06T16:17:00.000-04:00

Many of you who are reading this have probably heard various pieces of this epic tale of accessorizing, online auctioneering, and downright no good attempted robbery and fraud. But I'm starting from the beginning for all those others who have not. And away we go...

Our story begins in the early humid summer weeks in New York City. I was sitting one day enjoying a happy hour with Kim when I noticed I had been fanning myself with the menu.

"Kim!" I exclaimed, "I have an idea for a great summer accessory. I am going to get a fan and use it all summer long to both cool myself and look ever so hip."

Kim, a supportive friend, agreed that it was a splendid idea. And so I logged on to EBay (where the hell else does one find a fan?) with visions of trendsetting in my head.

Things were going according to plan. I found a fan (not one pictured), I bid on it, I won. And that is when things began to go terribly wrong. First, I realized too late that the woman from whom I bought said fan only accepted personal checks. A bit annoying, but not the end of the world. And so I sent off my check for $16.47 and waited with bated breath for my new favorite accessory to arrive. This was late June.

July 11: I receive an email from the "seller" stating she had yet to receive my check. Considering that it takes Netflix but a day to send me dvds, I found this odd, but you know, shit happens. I told her the check was in the mail and she responded cordially.

July 21: Next thing I hear from "seller" is that she has started an official DISPUTE against me on EBay. Why doesn't she email me again in a couple days saying no check had been received? No idea...instead she brings in the man. And, I'm not gonna lie, the man scares me. So much so, that I am literally taking out my checkbook to write her a new check when it occurs to me that I can now see all my atm and check transactions online at WaMu. So I look and what do I find? That my check to "seller" (heretofor to be referred to as Heinous Bitchface) was cashed on July 11!!!!!! The day she sent me the email saying, yo...where's my money.

July 28: I alert her to this fact and Heinous Bitchface closes the dispute against me stating that even though she has an impeccible check receiving system, she had credited the money to a different account but now everything was all settled. I think, well...it's a bit late in the summer to start sporting this fan, but at least its coming and at least I'm not getting a bad EBay rep.

So I sit back and await the arrival of my fan. Which does not arrive and keeps not arriving until...

Aug. 11: I get ANOTHER email from Heinous Bitchface saying that she'd yet to receive payment from me. Now at this point you may be thinking, "Sarah, stop exaggerating just because you have a blog now and want people to think you are interesting." Well, dear friend/aquantiance/ total stranger, I tell you I shit you not.

And here's the thing I don't understand. I was (am?) sure she was trying to steal from me. Surely, she has an EBay scam where she steals measely amounts of money from people hoping that the effort of trying to retrieve their money is just not worth the 16 dollars to them. And yet, if this were the case, why would she keep sending me emails asking me for payment?!

So, fine Heinous Bitchface. We'll play this your way. I ask my bank for a copy of the check (at the cost of $5.00) and proceed to tell this woman that I no longer want the fan as the summer is nearly over and I will no longer need to fan myself. She gets a bit huffy, telling me its a beautiful antique bladdy blah and tells me that is fine if she gives me a refund (once I prove I've actually paid) but that I will be responsible for paying the EBay final fees. She makes a big deal out of this...like I will be forced to sell my soul to get my frickin' 16 bucks back. So I ask how much these fees are and she tells me: $1.29. I want this whole ordeal over with that I'm perfectly willing to pay $1.29 for the experience. Though I do make it clear that she will be paying the check copying fee and she agrees.

I send her a copy of the check and she says, "Oh! That when I was in the hospital and a temp was in. That's why this has gotten so confused." Heinous Bitchface!!!! Why didn't you realize when I told you the date the check was deposited that it was around the time you were incapicated!? Could it be because it never fucking happened? Reminds me of the time the professor didn't write me the recommendation he promised because he "thought he had cancer."

Oct. 3 (A full 3 months after I "bought" the fan): she paid be back the 19 dollars she owed me (price of fan + check copying fee - EBay final fees)....via PayPal.

No-No-Notorious

2005-10-04T13:57:00.000-04:00

It seems every time I start a new school, I get a reputation for something. At NYU, it was the dubious honor of having a laugh that could be heard in every corner of the dorm. While it did make me some wonderful friends (Char, for example, has said that it was my laugh that first started her half of our mutual friend-crush), let us all be glad that it has diminished in both volume and power. For surely, with time, I eventually would have lost friends because of it.

Here at Gtown, I have yet again gained a reputation: I am the girl with the extensive and impressive earring collection! Apparently, it goes something like this:

Friend o'mine (probably Emily): Oh, blah blah blah, Sarah and I...
Person who I don't know: Oh, you mean the one with the earrings?
Probably Emily: Yes, yes I do.

I must say, I prefer gaining notoriety based on my excellent taste in jewelry rather than a piercing laugh.

Diving in

2005-10-03T21:55:00.000-04:00

Well, after hours and hours of reading other blogs, I've decided I should at least try my hand at my own:

I figure I should start out with a positive post about my life in DC (plenty of time for bitching later). The thing I've liked most about DC so far is the number of rockin' bands rolling through this town, especially since the music scene was what I was most freaking out about before coming here (which is funny considering I only actively got into music mere moments before pulling away from the curb in my Uhaul).

Shows I've seen since arriving include: Rilo Kiley and Sufjan Stevens.
Show's I will be seeing: Architecture in Helsinki, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Coheed and Cambria
Show's I've passed on or just fucked up and didn't get tickets: Stars (oh yeah, and Death Cab), The Decemberists, Shins (White Stripes made that one undesireable [fucking Jack...I hate you!!]), V-Slice, Rufus Wainwright, yadda yadda yadda...

Plus I'm a big fan of the 9:30 Club which is nicely sized with a lovely balcony section that allows me to almost see the stage. Furthermore, I get to brush shoulders with the DC hipster crowd, one that is ever so much less intimidating than their NYC counterparts. Of course, besides the 9:30 Club I have no idea where these hipsters go for fun and drinking. All I've been able to find are bars populated with ex-frat boys in polos with popped collars, kakhis...and baseball caps (shudder). Well, the bitching is starting, so I am ending.