Dreaming of In-n-Out

About 7 years ago, I decided that I'd had it with my job and career. I remember sitting in a hotel room in London where I'd been living for about 6 months on a project, right after living in a hotel room in Rhode Island for 9 months on that same project. I was feeling totally over-worked on a mismanaged, nightmare project. My company had just gone through a huge transition (after 3 rounds of layoffs, they got acquired), and I hated the new corporate overlords. I wasn't sleeping, I was working all the time, I didn't like the new people I was working with because in general, they weren't as good as my old team. I was exhausted all the time. It was like I was someone else and living in a fog all the time. I was hating my life.

So...I started looking into doing something else. For whatever reason, I got totally fixated on working at In-N-Out. I even got an application, filled it out, and stuck it on my bulletin board at work as some sort of weird inspiration. I think it just comforted me to know that I had a Plan B.

I wondered if it was just the project, which meant I should stick it out to finish the job and then move onto a new team. But I realized that I had to quit because I was so miserable being a consultant. I didn't want to break my mother's heart though. She was pretty unhappy when I dropped out of college after sophomore year. "What I telling my friends? I never hear the chinese kids not finishing the colleges!!" I couldn't imagine what she'd tell people if her software consulting daughter was now making hamburgers, even if the burgers ARE fresh and not frozen.

So, for whatever stupid reason, I decided that I'd go to law school instead.

Seven years later, and I'm sitting in my office feeling totally over-worked on a mismanaged, nightmare case. My practice group just went through a huge transition (old firm dissolved), and I'm not so fond of the new corporate overlords. I'm not sleeping, I am working all the time...I am exhausted all the time. It's like I'm someone else and living in a fog all the time. I am hating my life.

The other day, my mom got so sick of hearing me complain, that she actually suggested that I go and get an application from In-n-Out. Perhaps it's a sign from God.

One of the Many Reasons To Love My Gramma

It's been a while. So I'll make my first post the laziest kind. This is my grandma at my mom's birthday back in June. She saw the camera coming, grabbed the bottle and posed.





Um, that seems to be me in the background scratching my crotch...not sure what the hell was going on there.

I'm in love

I recently purchased a new tv from amazon.com. Well, first I purchased it from Best Buy, but then a bunch of people told me I was a fat idiot and got ripped off. So I dutifully went back to Best Buy to return the damn thing and then promptly bought it from amazon where I ended up saving a boatload of cash.

I'm still waiting for the tv to be delivered, but I did get my PS3 today. Oooh, it's so sleek and shiny. I took it out of the box, carefully unwrapped it, and then proceeded to stare longingly at it for a while. I spent about an hour reading all the manuals that came with it. I also got a game with the unit (Metal Gear Solid 4), so I spent time reading that manual too. As I read the literature, I gently stroked the console. It's so smooth and silky. I love my PS3!

I just wish I could plug it into something.

Poo and Peter Pan

So I'm hanging out with my bestest friends EVER on the other side of the bay this weekend. They have a three year old son and a little newborn baby daughter.

I love these kids. I just met the baby for the first time, and I think she gave me the baby sign of approval. While I was holding her, she made a big explosive shizznit right in my lap. Leaked through her diaper onto her pants. Thank God not onto my jeans.

Incidentally, this is the second time that's happened to me. A couple months ago, my coworker brought his newborn son into the office. I was holding the little dude in my lap and he was just chilling out, staring at his parents who were sitting across the desk. Suddenly, all at the same time: I hear a loud ffrrbbbrroaawwwrrrbbbssshhhh, I feel the pressure of a jet engine shoot into my lap, and I smell the fragrance of baby poop. It was quite the sensory overload, and we all burst out laughing. It happened on the same day that Senator Palpatine called me up screaming on the phone. I guess it was my day to get shit on.

So anyhow, I digress. Even though it's my favorite subject, I didn't mean to talk about poop. I need help answering a 3-year-old's question. My friends' have this awesome little boy. Let's call him Helmet. I was hanging out with Helmet's family this weekend. After dinner we were going upstairs when his mom reminded him he had a question to ask me about Peter Pan.

So Helmet looks up at me with his innocent eyes full of wonder, holds up his hand and says, "Aunty Jackhole, you know Captain Hook? What was his name before he lost his hand?"

Um...

Uh...

Well...

Hmm...

Dang, I had no answer for the dude. I'm usually good at making stuff up, but this time, I think it would've been easier if he'd just taken a dump on me too.

Am I a creepy weirdo?

I spent about an hour today in a chat room with three kids who are all in sixth-grade. It was awesome. People at work don't recognize the value of my humor, but these kids knew how to appreciate my jokes (about poop, burps and farts). I was supposed to be proofreading a legal research memo, but instead I was online talking to kids.

Wow, that kinda does sound creepy.

Does it make it better if these kids invited me to their chat room?

What if one of the kids was my niece?

I'm a dirty bitch

Recently I had to figure out what I would do about cleaning out my old apartment to get back as much of my security deposit as possible. There was a bit of an internal battle I had to get past.

Argument 1: I am an attorney at a big firm making the big bucks and working for an ultra-demanding high-powered partner. My time is worth too much to be wasting on this. Whatever dollar figure they deduct from my security deposit for cleaning, I could probably make back in the time I spend taking a dump in the office (Stay out of stall 4, ladies. It's mine.). Cleaning? That's NOT how I roll.

Argument 2: Me Chinese! Must get all my moneys!!!

Being legally trained, I was able to quickly identify the more logical and compelling argument.

So, last night I had to go back to the ghetto ass apartment to clean it so I could get back as much of my measly security deposit as possible. I figured I'd drive up after work, it would take a couple of hours, and I'd be able to get home, put on another free show (take a shower) in my fishbowl house, and be in bed by midnight at the latest.

Unfortunately, I didn't take into account the fact that apparently, I'm a filthy, loathsome beast. That apartment was sooo gross and took forever to clean. I don't know how I lived there for so long. It took me over 5 hours just to clean up.

Allow myself to disgust myself.

Ok, back to billing.

UPDATE 06/13/2008: I got my whole deposit back, and it feels damn good.

Free show tonight at my place

Moving day has been a success so far. I'm in my new place right now,
huddled on the floor in a corner of the master bedroom. All of my
lights are off. I have no internet access yet. No phone either. No
tv. This blackberry is my only connection to the world.

Everything is still in boxes, and I'm creeping from one room to the
next, using only the light of my blackberry to guide me.

I'm living in one of those new communities where the houses are right
up against each other.

I have no curtains so I must live in darkness. Except some things I
don't know how to do in the dark.

I'm going to go take a shower now. I hope my neighbors enjoy the show.

--
Sent from Gmail for mobile | mobile.google.com

Goodbye, City

It's my last night in my apartment. No more views like this from my living room window.

Another Reason to Get the Hell Out of the City

Someone peed on my motorcycle. WTF? My bike is covered, but there's a huge pee stain on one side. A few months ago I found a huge turd next to my bike, and it didn't come from a dog. My parking space is somebody's toilet.

I need to get out of here.

Bare necessities

Uh oh. I'm moving in less than two weeks and still haven't gone furniture shopping. Looks like I'll be living in an empty house for a while...with no curtains. That should be my first priority. Otherwise, naked tuesdays might get a little awkward for the neighbors.

Anybody know a good interior decorator?

My house is on youtube...

Ok, this is friggin weird. I found a video of my new place on youtube. This is the model house so none of that furniture or decor is mine. Although, I do like that dining table.

Anyhow, if you want a virtual tour of the house, enjoy this:



UPDATE (5/11/2008 2:07pm PT): And no, the girl in the bathroom does not come with the house.

Moving to the 'burbs

Is anybody out there? It's been forever since my last post. I've been a little busy, but I have some exciting news!

Finally, after 4 months of paying a mortgage, I'm actually going to get to move into my new place. The date is set for a June 4 move, and frankly, I can't wait to get the hell out of the city.

My life is sad. I spend 12+ hours a day at work, and I drive 35 miles to get there. My new place is less than 10 miles from the office. Just think of all the extra hours a week I can spend billing instead of driving!

As much as I'm looking forward to the move, it's stressing me out. I have a ton of stuff to toss out and/or sell. I'm in my mid-30s, and I've been living in dumpy college-style apartments all this time. My place right now is full of cheap-o ikea furniture (lovingly assembled by D & L. Thanks!) After almost 4 years in this apartment, I still have NOTHING on my walls. Moving to a new house, I'm feeling the pressure to actually decorate, so it'll look like a real grown-up lives there.

Maybe I'll actually get off my ass and post some before and after photos...

My Star Wars Nickname

So on one of my cases, they decided to give everyone nicknames from Star Wars. At first we were all just "the kids" and the two partners were "mommy" and "daddy". Me and my fellow first year were considered "the twins", even though he is a tall skinny white guy, and um, I am not.

We soon realized the family motif wasn't working so well, because we were getting too dysfunctional. There was tension between "mommy" and "daddy", and "the kids" were worried they'd get divorced.

ANYWAY, someone came up with the bright idea of Star Wars nicknames. My former twin was quickly labelled C3PO, so by default I get to be R2. It seems to fit well with my former tech background, and people seems fond of telling me to "jam my fist in there" whenever I'm doing anything with the defendant's software.

Unfortunately, I mentioned these nicknames to my mother. She's taken quite a liking to it, and now refers to me in the third person using my friggin nickname.

(speaking to me on the phone) "Oooh, me better not talking so long. R2D2 sounding tired."

(in person when I come to visit) "I not eating yet. R2D2 is hungry?"

Sigh.

Oh, watch this clip of an adorable 3-year kid summarizing the plot of Episode IV. Priceless.

Helpless Buffoons (aka First Year Lawyers)

Wow. Less than six months as a lawyer, and I've already become completely inept. Two days ago, I had to get my secretary to teach me how to send a fax. Again. She's already shown me like three times.

This evening, I need to mail a letter to opposing counsel. All the secretaries are gone, and my favorite paralegal has left for the day. I just walked into my friend's office and asked, "Hey, um, do you know how to mail a letter?"

After laughing, he responded, "You know, it's sad that you have to even ask that." Then he paused, and continued, "But it's even sadder that I have to tell you that I have absolutely no idea."

Crack is whack, unless it's from your mom

The following is based on a true story.

Once upon a time, there was a child who rode the bus to and from school. One day, after riding the bus home from school, the child had some trouble at the bus-stop. With a heavy backpack full of books, the child slipped while trying to step down from the bus. Arms flailing, legs slipping forward and giving way, the poor thing landed with a jolt, smack on its bottom.

The entire crowd of children on the bus witnessed the fall. Laughter ensued, much to our youngster's dismay and embarrassment. Suffering physical and emotional pain, the child bravely got up, and somehow made it back home.

Soon, Mother called to check that her child had made it home safely. Sniffling, the child answered the phone, but hearing Mother's voice brought back the tears. Through the sobs, Mother was able to piece together the fact that the child had fallen off the bus. Mother called Father, and then she rushed home from work.

Father called to let the child know that Mother was on her way. The child began sobbing again, not because of any physical pain (although it was later discovered that the tailbone was cracked), but from the embarrasment of the situation. All the kids were LAUGHING at me!!!

Soon, Mother arrived home and did everything she could to comfort her child. Hugs, words of comfort, offers of snacks...but nothing would work. The crying continued. Eventually, Mother changed out of her work clothes into her comfy home outfit, and began to do chores around the house. Father would be home soon. The child, still sniffling and inconsolable, followed Mother around the house.

Busy cleaning up, Mother bent over to put things away in a lower cabinet. As she did so, her sweatpants slipped down revealing a tiny bit of ass-cleavage. The child, standing behind Mother, observed the crack, and in true wise-ass fashion said, "DANG! I hope you don't show that to all the people at work!"

And miraculously, the child was no longer upset. All was well in the world now. Well, except now, Mother was not happy.