It's Official

I have spring fever. MAJOR spring fever. I can't focus. Let's see how many hours I have billed thus far today...2.5 hours. I have been here 6 hours. This is bad. Very bad. Why am I here? Why have none of my friends heeded my hookey call?

Good Day, Sunshine!

Today is absolutely gorgeous. It is supposed to be near 70 farenheit. For those celcius folks, I have no clue what the equivolent is. I really need to figure out that calculation. At any rate, I am listening to some Bach, gazing longingly at my car in the parking lot wishing I could just cut outta hear and drive. Where would I drive to? Who knows, just drive, feel the wind in my hair with good tunes playing on my system, and a friend or two along for the ride. We could get bubble tea and end up where ever Eunice (that's my car) takes us. A nice park perhaps. Or a patio. Anywhere but right here. Funny thing, I was with 2 of my friends last night and I suggested we play hookey today. Why didn't we?! It's a perfect day for such an endeavor. Tomorrow is going to be fabulous too. Guys, help me out here. Please. It is not immature, it is for my mental sanity and health. And yours too. Hear my call. I can't do it alone - not nearly as fun. We could go to the place I am house-sitting at and bar-b-que, sip some delicious wine or an ice cold beer or mojitos and lay in the sun, then go watch the sunset over the snow-capped Rockies. Damn it, duty calls...

Meet Sydney

My office has a new team member, courtesy of me. His name is Sidney and he is a beautiful beta fish. Why name him Sidney? You would ask. That is the name of the head Bankruptcy Court Judge and well, I wanted my attorneys to have an "ace in the hole" as they say. How can you rule not in favor of us if there is a dedicated staff member with a handsome, vibrant fish named in your honor, Your Honor. And she hasn't even met you. I have posted a picture of what Sydney looks like, for the most part. He has red on the bottom, but not as much as this picture. Sydney is happy, and thankfully, I have a 15 day warranty on him so if he goes to meet the big beta fish in the sky, I can replace him with a different fish...

Rock, Paper, Scissors

Guess what. There are good, kind people in this world. I forgot my beautiful Cashmina scarf at this restaurant a couple weeks ago and finally remembered to go pick it up after work today. I found a parking space on the street nearby, went into the restraunt, thanked the manager after he brought me the scarf and walked out. As I was walking towards my car, I saw the meter guy giving me a ticket. Doh! Here is the run down upon my approach to my car:
Me: Hi.
Meter Man (MM): Hi. Is this your car?
Me: Yes. I was just picking up my scarf from that restraunt.
MM: Well, are you aware that you have to pay to park in Cherry Creek now?
Me: No. (Glance at sign that clearly states one must pay until 7PM). What time is it?
MM: It's 6:44.
Me: Oh, I see.
MM: Once we start entering the ticket, we have to issue it.
Me: Ok.
MM: I am one of 2 people who do this job who knows how get out of issuing a ticket. But you have to do something.
Me: Oh.
MM: You have to beat me at a game of rock paper scissors.
Me: Just once or best 2 out of 3.
MM: Just once. Ready? (I nod). Go.
We hit our fists on our hands, 1-2-3. We both do rocks.
MM: Tie, ready?
I nod and we do it again. 1-2-3. Both scissors.
MM: Ok, here goes..
1-2-3. My fist stays rock, he has scissors, I win.
MM: Have a nice night!
Me: Really?! Thank you!!

Yup folks, I seriously got out of a parking ticket by playing rock, paper, scissors. Cruz witnessed the whole thing because she was on the phone with me (I have a Blue Tooth so he didn't know I was on the phone). She asked if I just got out of a ticket by playing rock, paper, scissors. I did. Thank you, Meter Man.

Subaru Brats

Do you remember those divinely inspired vehicles known as Subaru Brats? They had a surprisingly long manunfacture life of 1978-1994! Wow, I had forgotten the vehicles exsisted until I was driving back to work and saw some creep driving like a total a**h*le in my review mirror. Upon seeing that his vehicle was a Brat, it all made sense to me. If I were driving some crappy "truck" with the word BRAT down the side, I would dive like that too. For those of you who have never seen this illustrious machine, I strongly encourage you to google Subaru Brat. My dear friend, Cruz, did for she had never seen one, and now fully understands my sentiments. It also caused her to chuckle a bit. I have included a pic for your viewing enjoyment

Crap! Last blog MIA!

My last blog posted, then I edited it and now, it's gone! So here is synopsis of what was said: I had a conversation with an Anonymous Friend (AF) at happy hour on Thursday that I never thought I would have. Proceed at your own risk and remember: we are talking about a martini...

AF: I think I'll try a pearl necklace
Me (a few minutes later): How's the pearl necklace?
AF: Not as good as I thought it would be. Do you want to taste it?
Me: Sure! (tastes) Oooh, you're right, it doesn't taste very good.

So I realize 2 very important things on Friday. 1. Mr. Sushi has not called me. 2. I don't care. Damn was he h-o-t-t. Yes, you read right, hott with 2 ts. That is when you know he is finer than fine.

Right now, I am cooking homemade focacia bread with rosemary, goat's milk cheese and carmelized onions. Smells delicious. It has taken the majority of the afternoon to make, but hopefully it will be worth it. I even made the caramelized onions myself. My apartment smells simply divine. Not like cat. I forget how much I love making home-made dough. There is something calming about kneeding the blob that will soon be your nourishment. I also made some tasty egg salad. Yum, in my quest to eat better, I have discovered that it takes a f*cking lot of preparation. Hopefully it will be worth it.

My good friend told me my apartment smelled like my cat on Friday night. I am glad he told me, but I must admit I am devestated that my apartment would smell like anything but inviting. Cat is not a good smell. Neither is poop, old dirty laudry or mold. Thankfully I have rectified the situation. What scares me most about this is that I didn't notice. Do I smell like cat?

L'amore e il paradiso

I know you all have been dying to see what fantastic italian phrase my monthly Buff Gondolier is teaching me and there you have it as the title of this entry. According to the translation, it means "love is heaven". I want to know: who thinks that, seriously.

Super Flake to the er rescue and the frump update!!

Right now, if I were a superheroine, I would be Super Flake. You see, I keep spacing important pieces of information to relay on to others. Like what? You would ask that, wouldn't you. It's more like I am easily distracted. Keep in mind I am billing very well at work, but am quite scattered. You wouldn't want me as your rescuer for I would forget, or worse, be in the middle of saving you, get distracted and go somewhere else, just leaving you there in the lurch. At least I look good today; in honor of the Chinese New Year (it's Sunday people), I am wearing a nice gold silk tunic with matching pants. My boss bows at me everytime I walk by. Some guy in the crack house across the street thinks it's great too. It appears I have left my frump behind...for the time being...hopefully that episode is the lone episode. Interestingly enough, after I posted the frump issue on this very blog, my manager told me that she had been meaning to tell me that I looked really nice that day. Hmmmm, it appears that I am the only fashionista at my office. Why am I surprised?

Feeling Frumpy

Hello folks. I realized as I was getting out of my car this morning that I look a bit frumpy. You know how when you see some terrible outfit some poor soul put on or people with mullets and you think, "do these people actually look in the mirror and think, 'damn, i look good'" (insert mullet fluff here). Well, I realized today that is probably what people think when they see me. I hear the inner monologue of those around me: "Did she actually try that skirt on in the store like it or was it a gift? Who puts a lavendar sweater with a pink flowered skirt? Poor girl probably didn't look in the mirror before she left work. I hope nobody ever says or thinks these things about me." And here I am thinking those things about myself. It just goes to prove: what goes around comes around. For the record, my boss told me I don't look bad and my receptionist likes the skirt, and I wasn't even prying for compliments. I guess some people like the frumpy look...the dude abides.

Law School?

Howdy. I am F-I-N-A-L-L-Y able to start my applications to Law Schools for this fall. Happy, that is what I am because I am finally moving forward again. I also feel like a total slacker, but better late than never. I am so excited at the prospect of returning to the school, using my mind again. I am also nervous because my LSAT score is not what I would like it to be...I want to do a dual degree program and I think I will get accepted to a JD program then start that process once I am in. Hmmm, getting accepted to a JD program, that is the hard part. I have to write a personal statement and have no clue what to write about. The most recent experience that dramatically impacted my life was when I was a victim advocate on-scene of a fatal car accident. Seems a bit morbid to me. Maybe admissions officers at the school I am applying to don't want to read about that, especially since their school was ravaged this hurricane season. Writing about my experience as a Page seems like it was eons ago - it has been 10 years! Hmmm, I must think about this...vacation to Hawaii with my beloved Zona seems inappropriate as well. Well, ho's gots to goes now, but any advice on what my personal statement could be on would be much appreciated.

Look to the right!

Hey all! I added links to 3 of my friend's blogs so check them out. If you want to see pics of Hawaii, go to Doraemon's Eternal Pocket and you can see some of what we experienced.

Grazie di esistire

Ok, so my spelling might be off a bit, but translated to English from Italian, it supposedly means "thank you for existing". This is the monthly Italian phrase the man of the month is trying to teach me. This is the new calandar I bought to hang over my desk and it is entitled "Buff Gondaliers" or something like that. Basically, I am trying to pass off a cheezy calandar of men who sometimes go shirtless as a calandar of the Venician canals...hmmm, nobody has noticed it so far. I'm not too worried about it.
I wanted to apologize for not updating my blog more while in Hawaii. There was so much to tell that it was overwhelming. The other part was to try to escape from the Mainland and not have my mind anywhere else. My apologies.
So now I am back in the Mainland in my apartment with my cat, who is mildly obsessed with me. We have finally figured out how to use the laptop and have her lounge on me. I am having mixed emotions right now. I have almost the entire day to myself and cannot figure out what I want to do. I am grateful to be alone, yet feeling totally disconnected from everything and thus, want to go out with people to feel connected. But I don't have the energy to connect with people I don't know very well and would not wish my current state on any of my friends or family. I am so lucky to have my own space and time that is totally mine. I want to go lay in the sun, but it is not quite warm enough and I am not a huge fan of hanging out in public city parks, alone, no less. Maybe I should have entitled this blog "restless".

The Fallacy Continues...

I almost feel bad - Zona and I are back at our hotel, fresh towels under our bums, supplied by a man who obviously thinks we are paying guests. But clean towels are nice...it's ok I tell myself; the guests who pay are not nearly as appreciative as we are. The pool beckons, but the weather today is sprinkling showers, followed by sunshine, followed by mini showers. We have checked out of the hostel and will be flying to Maui tonight and have an afternoon to kill. Our biggest and most taxing decision so far has been this: do we sit at the bar and drink or go poolside? Bar equals glass, poolside equals plastic...hmmm, what are a couple of beach babes in matching sarongs to do?
I am sure, my gentle readers, that you are wondering about last nights festivities. Well, Zona's dream of landing a Japanese man "straight off the boat" (her words exactly), did not come to fruition. I gave the oh so dreamy sushi chef my number and we'll see what happens. He has been dubbed "Mr. Sushi". Upon an enlightening discussion with Zona, I learned that Mr. Sushi would not be considered hot by Japanese standards, but by our standards, we agreed that we would allow, well nevermind. This is a PG-rated blog. Yes, ladies, he is smokin'. And Zona and I don't even have the same taste. Except for Mr. Sushi. Oh-na-ni!!! So we'll see if he calls. We have not told him of our lustful thoughts towards him; rather, just gave him a piece of paper with my number on it and to give me a call...after that, we went to the bar at our hotel, drank wicked strong Mai-tais, met some Austrailian girl who convinced us to go to some lame hotel club for the midnight toasting. After that, we left and strolled down the beach, carefully avoiding fireworks and dog crap. Our search for a greasy spoon diner or wholesome ramen was fruitless and after numerous propositions to hotel parties and the like, we ended up back at our hostel, talking with a couple Brizilians, a young 20-year old Japanese boy who was quite cute and a desparate Indian guy. Think Van Wilder people. That was fun while it lasted and after about an hour, we turned in for the night.
I am not sure about internet access in Maui, but I will do my best to give an update as frequently as possible. Click on the pic above to see it better. It is Zona and I at a roof-top bar on New Year's Eve. Thanks for the kiss, chica!

Oh-na-ni!!!!

Aloha! Zona and I are laying poolside, drinking Mai Tais, watching the sunset over the Pacific Ocean. We just lay here with smiles on our face without a care in the world. We just looked at each other and said "I could not be happier now." New Year's is almost upon us. Our plans include watching the fireworks explode off-shore and in the street, then dancing the night away at a club. For the first time in my life, I am not embarassed to not be a tourista and don't care about walking into a restraunt wearing a sarong, and ordering some fru-fru drink like a pina colada. Poor saps at the pool think we are staying at the hotel and are bringing us fresh towels - ha!!! So, the sights I've seen...well, let's start with the massive third nipple on a middle-aged Japanese man, followed closely by a white-thonged, sunburned middle-aged man I am assuming is German (who else would do such a thing, seriously). The sun is low on the horizon and the palm trees are swaying in the breeze...hey, I just realized there are no seagulls here. Tonight, our last meal of 2005 will be kaiten sushi, which is sushi that goes around on a convayer belt and you pick what you like. Based on the color of the rim of the plate is how much you pay per plate. Yum-o. Ooooh, so I have to write about an architectual masterpiece that Zona and I saw just this morning. No, it is not the royal palace. No no, something much more significant. Sit down for this one. A Denny's with a tiled Chinese-style roof. Denny's people. We are not talking something Asian or Polyponisan here. A f*cking Denny's. It's not like we are in Chinatown, just some regular street in Waikiki. Oh, and who eats at Denny's on Waikiki? Seriously. So Zona and I have figured something out. We have been laying by the pool here, drinking, laughing, reading, etc. They are bringing us fresh towels, there is a shower and a restroom at our disposal. Zona is charging her cell phone, I-pod and computer as I write this...the tempature is moderate to warm. Why are we paying for a hostel? The beach is literally across the street. We could be out all night, then sleep by the pool or on the beach during the day...maybe next time. Soon, we will be kissed by some random guys to ring in the New Year...may you all have a fabulous night and beginning to 2006. Happy New Year to all.

Hawaii five-o

Yay! Zona & Ems are finally in Hawaii! Woo-hoo! Some major shopping has been accomplished this fine morning in the lovely town of Waikiki. We wanted to get it out of the way. And, a girl does need a cute cover on the beach. The beach eludes us, but it is only 12:30 Hawaiian time so there is plenty of opportunity. The hostel is 1 and a half blocks from Waikiki beach. The air is thick and heavy with humidity, although I don't feel the least bit stiffled. I was hoping when I walked off the plane, I would smell something like plumeria or freesia, but alas, it was a nice combination of diesel smoke and airplane. I hoped when I walked out of baggage claim, these lovely tropical scents would waft themselves in my general direction. Nope. Just the smoking section. Damn Smokers!!!! Maybe Maui will give me this tropical flower exerience. After arriving at the hostel, we discovered someone screwed up our reservation so Zona & I are not going to be in the same room on New Years Eve. Bastards. There has been no apology or anything. I am a bit hostile at the hostel people. At any rate, our room for now is nice and the girls are funny. We had fabulous and cheap sushi for dinner, washed down with a draft of Kiran followed by a restlest sleep on the top bunk of a rickety bunk bed. Tonight, we are doing Japanese style kareoke (Japanese is the second language of Hawaii, in case you were un-aware). Zona is excited. I don't know what I am in for. Apparently you get your own room to sing and goof off in...Tomorrow, we are going to hike Diamond Head, then finishing up shopping and lounge some more on the beach. What the night holds in store for us is unknown. In case you were wondering, my cold is still around, but not nearly as bad. The fish will be disappointed.

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!! Caution: Rant to Follow

I just want to go. I am sick of dealing with all the things that I have to deal with. Pay attention. A signing appointment is here. Guess what that means. The clients expect to sign paperwork. Do you think we need to print it? Why do you have to bring in your pay stubs when you are salaried? That is a good question to ASK your CONGRESSPERSON, not me; I didn’t make the rules so stop trying to argue. Do you think I want to collect this stuff just for fun or to be difficult? I don’t care if you don’t keep meticulous records, let alone basic things like oh, bank statements. Not my problem. And you know who else doesn’t care? The US Trustee’s office, the Bankruptcy court and your creditors. You got yourself into this mess, and I am trying to help you get out of it so a little patience would be in order on your part. Did I mention that I am going on an island paradise vacation with my dear dear friend in less than 48 hours and have not started to pack, clean, create the oh-so-necessary memo for the office to follow-up on while I am frolicking on the sandy beaches of Hawaii. I forgot to mention my 2 biggest fears, didn’t I? First fear: I will come back and not have a job – be given a permanent vacation, should I so desire to make it so. At that point, I think I would try the “career blend” at my neighborhood Charbucks. I hear I could get benes with only 20 hours a week of work. The second fear is based on the first not happening – let’s assume I am still gainfully employed. So I come back and NOTHING has been crossed off on my memo of necessary follow up. Yup, so I get to pick up where I left off, with angry clients because no one has returned their call and yadda yadda yadda for almost 2 weeks. Sometimes I feel a bit dumped on. Isn’t it interesting that my 2 big work fears are based on my being unimportant/not necessary? Did I mention that I am not feeling hot, fighting a cold (it should be on the downswing since I was wicked ill on the Eve of Christmas). Let me tell you what is NOT HOT: a chick in a bikini having to blow her red nose every other breath. Or better yet, doing the grody snort of snot/hack it out. YUK. But I hear fish love that crap. Hmmmm. Sick.

Post Birthday Buzz

So I have officially had one of the best birthdays of my life. 27 years...wow. I can't really tell you what I have accomplished, but does that really matter?? All I really care about is that I surround myself with people who make me a better person and affirm and love me! I think I have done that and, well, hope all my friends and family can say the same about me. I don't know what this year holds for me...law school...new job as a policy researcher...I do know one thing though: I will be starting it the best way I possibly can - in Hawaii with my dear friend on Waikiki beach...ahhh...I feel joy and what more could a girl possibly want?

History Majors Unite!!

I have to have an educational post today. As many of you know, today is Veterans' Day. The reason for this is on this day in 1918 at 11:11 AM in a train car in Versailles, the armstice was signed ending what is now known as World War I. In order to understand the international developments of the 20th century in the western world, one must understand the signifigance of this static, horrific conflict. By the time the Treaty of Versailles was signed, 3 empires had disintigrated: Russia, Ottoman and Austria-Hungary. Shortly thereafter, Kaiser Wilhelm fled his native country of Germany and the French and Flemish were to reconstruct the countrysides left in tatters. No one could answer the question "what did this war accomplish?" One has to understand the Treaty of Versailles and its repercussions in order to understand the rise of the Hitler movement in Germany and the outbreak of World War II; it is one of the main factors in the rise of Fascism in 3 European countries. World War I's shadows still influence our politics and international relations today. It is no coincidence today is the day we as Americans honor our veterans; the scars run very deep from this bleary day in 1918 when the leaders of the Western World signed a treaty that silenced the guns and ended the war that was supposed to end all wars.

Captain Sensitive and the Great Yoga Conspiracy

Today, Captain Sensitive will be played by yours truly. Yes, I played that role last night at my monthly victim advocate meeting. We have 2 new volunteers so we all went around the room introducing ourselves and telling the new peeps tips or something we have learned as advocates. It got to be my turn so what do I say? "Just be yourself and remember: you can't screw them (the victims) up more than they are already." Yeah, the staff was a bit taken aback muttering things about being "politically correct" and everyone laughed after the initial shock wore off, but not the most tactful. Oh well, at least I am honest, right?

On to the Great Yoga Conspiracy. Yoga never fails to show me yet another area where I am totally inadequate. Today we did balance and guess what, I don't have it. Maybe it is because I don't have my core-strength built up. Maybe it is because I am not very flexible; maybe it is because it is 6:15 AM...Surprisingly, I am not totally discouraged. Anyone who thinks yoga is some how wimpy or not a real work-out can bite me. It is a conspiracy - not what it appears; it kicks one's behind and I don't think it matters how good of shape you are in; this whole zen/relaxation thing you think yoga is, not so much my experience. Here I am thinking, "ah, it's yoga day, not spinning so it is my relaxing day..." Hhhhhhhaaaaa! I have accepted my inner failure as a yoga student. I have accepted I am amateur, at best. But hey, at least I go.

Yoga down on this!

Sooooo, I have officially joined the YMCA. I have attended 2 yoga sessions and a spinning class - owwwwwww my ass (who thought to make bicycle seats so very uncomfortable?)! I have learned 3 very important things: 1. I am not flexible or limber. 2. I am in terrible shape. 3. I have more stamina and endurance than I thought. Waking up before God is also interesting - my spinning class BEGINS at 5:30 AM. Let me tell you who is on the streets as I am walking to the illustrious Y. No one. Except maybe a couple homeless people and some raver party individuals. This is the infamous YMCA building where about 5 years ago, a man decided to masterbate for me. I am hoping this is a gift I will never receive again, especially at the ass-crack of dawn. So Monday, I get to go to see a personal trainer. He is an ex-Marine named Beau; I am scared. A plan with some gentle guidance is all I ask. No shouting, no belittling, no bootcamp. Tomorrow is another day and another spinning class. One day, I will wear a yellow jersey to my spinning class, but that is a long way off.