Party Like It’s 1999

Halloween ’99

This weekend I really did party like it was 1999 and I was 22 again. Only can I tell you that this 29-year-old body? Does not deal so well with 22-year-old partying. I am so tired. And I think I’m getting sick (whine).

When I was 22, my friend Katie joined me in NYC, and we found this tiny little sixth-floor walk-up (bathroom and kitchen shared a sink, the only shelf in the kitchen had to serve as both pot/pan storage AND a vanity, and both bedrooms shared one closet) on 14th and 1st (dangerously close to Beauty Bar).

We both worked at Morgan Stanley, both as assistants, both on a 7:00 a.m. start time. And yet somehow EVERY SINGLE NIGHT we were out until 4:00 a.m. We had getting ready down to a groggy 15-minute science and each kept our suit jackets on the back of our chairs at work so all we had to worry about was pants and a reasonably clean blouse. Yes, we were THAT CLASSY.

I have no idea how we did it. Really, I think it violated some laws of neuroscience and, I don’t know, maybe even physics! Why not! All I know is that in retrospect, it was WRONG. And yet so much fun.

Anyway, thank goodness I don’t have any photos of my more recent debauchery. Instead, I’m just including pictures of my halcyon days of partying in NY, when sprawling across friends and strangers or downing lemon drop shots were perhaps more age appropriate and definitely less painful the morning after.

A routine Wednesday night at our neighborhood pub, O’Hanlon’s. Egads, I wore that top out just two weekends ago!

I apparently had to be in EVERY PICTURE, even when there wasn’t room.

Mystery!

Today was an odd day.

I woke up late because my alarm hates me, dreaming that my dad was undergoing another heart surgery and I couldn’t get ahold of anyone to tell me what happened.

Then, I picked up Neeta and headed to class. Walking out of the parking structure, we watched a woman just… fall over. Didn’t trip, didn’t make a noise, just folded in a heap to the ground.

We ran over and I shook her (“Ma’am, ma’am, can you hear me?” Just like I’ve seen on ER) to see if she would wake up, but she just wouldn’t. I called 911 and people started to gather. People who, by all rights, should get a swift kick in the pants. People who tried to put her Coach hobo beneath her head (uh, blocking the airways much?). People who wanted to give her water. And really, I understand because when someone asked if she had had any water, I went for my water bottle and Neeta went for her Vitamin Water like, WHAT WERE WE THINKING THIS WOMAN NEEDS WATER! until we realized WE HAD NO IDEA what was wrong with this woman and what could water do but possibly KILL HER?

Anyway, the LAPD and LAFD came and we gave our names and numbers and left her, still lying there. But it was very (JARRING and) unsatisfying. What happened to this woman?

But then I saw her! Walking on Sunset on my way home, giggling on her cell phone outside the Hornburg dealership! Same shirt, same pants, same pumps with the crack in the heel, same henna tattoos and gold bangles on her arms.

So she is OK, I guess? Although how was she, just a quick four hours later (we all know what ERs are like), walking around making calls on her cell? Was she just pregnant and had a hormone flux? Was this some kind of scam? Did I need to check my wallet (I did, nothing missing)? Was she a drug mule and managed to convince the LAFD she was fine?

A mystery.

And then I came home, and watched Manhattan Murder Mystery. I THOUGHT because I had put it on because it was on my list of 4 movies I’ll watch over and over and figured it was about time.

But then I realized, watching Carol spot the believed-dead Mrs. House on the crosstown bus that really, I was still digesting the day’s events and looking for ANSWERS. And you know, Carol may just have been a bored housefrau needing some romance in her life, and I may just be a bored law school student in equal need of romance. But! Carol was right — there was mystery there.

Unfortunately, my life isn’t a movie. I couldn’t swing around the block on Sunset and ask this woman what was up because she would think I WAS CRAZY.

So I’ll never know.

Which might be more fun, actually. I can cook up scenarios to my heart’s content.

Better than the alternative.

Petit-Fours

I forgot I had been tagged forever ago, and thank goodness because I have nothing to write about. Except maybe how the guy next to me in CrimPro SMELLS SO BAD I am sometimes tempted to hold my nose but know that would be wrong.

Four jobs you have had in your life:

*

1. 24 Hour Fitness Kids’ Klub babysitter (BEST JOB EVER, I had my own song for the wee ones)
2. VP & Product Manager
3. Video store clerk
4. Secretary

Four movies you could watch over and over:

1. Before Sunset
2. The Bourne Identity
3. Manhattan Murder Mystery
4. Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House

Four places you’ve lived:
1. NYC
2. SF
3. DC
4. Sac-Town

Four TV shows you love to watch:
1. Project Runway
2. House Hunters
3. Lost
4. Blow Out

Four places you’ve been on vacation:

**

1. Rio de Janeiro
2. Victoria BC
3. Vegas
4. Franklin PA

Four websites you visit daily:
1. Gmail.com
2. Hotmail.com
3. Nytimes.com
4. All my bloggy-lovies over on the right

Four of your favorite foods:

1. Duck in absolutely any form
2. Chocolate
3. Hamachi
4. Is Coca-Cola a food? if not, any cave-aged cheese

Four places you’d rather be right now:
1. Paris already!
2. Being left to my own devices to scour the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum
3. On a beach reading a book and free from school reading and to-do lists and every worry that’s haunting me
4. In the arms of a lover

Four bloggers you are tagging:
Everyone I know has been tagged already! Wait. I think. I can’t remember which tag went to which blogger circle. So I am just going to tag my siblings because they both hate tags and I LOVE THEM THAT MUCH.

*Picture that one of my old (and tall, pbblt) Razorfish colleagues drew for me upon hearing I would be leaving them to be a VP in LA.

**Note Kates & Cassie had waiting for me when I arrived in Rio. Yes, I save that kind of crap. Call me a sentimental ole fool. I dare you.

Sustained!

My brother Jeff‘s affianced*, Jen, an XXX-treme Law & Order fan (she has a dance, oh yes, she has a dance to the theme) has been telling me for quite a while now that I need to start using legal parlance in daily conversation.

In fact, she tried to tell me I should be using, “sustained” and “denied” regularly, and the only remotely acceptable use I could come up with is:

Currently My Friend, No Longer To Be My Friend Once I Start Introduing Legal Parlance Into Everyday Conversation: “What do you think, Mexican?”

Me: “Motion denied!”

CMFNLTBMYOISILGIEC: “Italian?”

Me: “Denied — you’re on a short leash, counsel.”

CMFNLTBMYOISILGIEC: “Sushi?”

Me: “Sustained!”

I usually brush off Jen’s comments, like, DUDE, I am so NOT an arbiter of justice. But this weekend I helped write a brief to the 9th Circuit (appellate court, baby! One away from getting in Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s pants! How you like them apples?).

And I am so high on appellate life that all of a sudden I am picturing myself in robes, and not just the kind I like to slip out of before a bath.

Nope, I am talking REAL JUSTICE here.

*I keep using affianced instead of fiancé because I am too damn lazy to look up the HTML for small e, accent ague, or accent acute en anglais.

Project Craftway

Inspired by the ever-lovin’ craftiness of the designers on Project Runway (tonight’s episode? fashion + figure skating = pure genius!), I thought I’d share a little craftiness of my own.

For Christmas, I gave a few of my loved ones their own person wine journal box. And paired it with a wine course book. My favorites — either The Wall Street Journal Guide to Wine, or even better, the Windows on the World Complete Wine Course.

Ah, yuppie gifts, so fun! The lovely Laurie, who has a mind like a steel trap, has already memorized half the contents of the WOW course, which will come in very handy in Paris! And I have not heard from Jeff & Jen, but the quality of Jeff’s blog posts (three buttocks, ahem) leads me to believe they have been imbibing some of the good stuff recently.

See the pic of the outside of the box above. And if you look carefully, you’ll see the tail of the elusive sasCATch, who only comes out to stalk my toes and to get his belly rubbed. Oh, and to poop.

Back to crafting. All you do is get a photo storage box — I got that one from Aaron Brothers in a nice faux leather finish.

Then you write in nice pen on the separator cards that come with the box — “Reds,” “Whites,” “Dessert,” “Sparkling,” etc.

Then, on 4″ x 6″ blank white index cards, you print out the labels, which I made in Photoshop my very own self.

You can save the bigger image (click on the small one above to get the big one) and make them yourself! Although note that depending on how your printer is set up, you may want to rotate the image to the right to print (I had to do that on mine).

Anyhoo, what better gift for the yuppies you love most in your life! An excuse for them to get their Boozley McDrinkerson on, AND it’s educational!

I’ll toast to that.

The Stork Arrives

No, I am not pregnant. Though reproduction in general yet horrific terms will be referenced in this post.

Nay, I have just watched The Bachelor. And you know, I promised myself I wouldn’t watch it after that awful season with Aaron, but it’s in Paris this time, and I really didn’t want to do my CrimPro reading, and all of a sudden I was watching Dr. Stork, decidedly NOT aptly named, charm some buxom, tanned ladies.

My favorite quotes:

“Quite frankly, my eggs are rotting.”

“Twelve women still have the chance to be a doctor’s wife.”

The first is my favorite because I’ve been told the same recently, but you know, I AM SANE ENOUGH not to take it to heart.

The second is my favorite because (love you, Dad!) I know what it’s like to be a doctor’s daughter. And really, all it means is you never see them. And if you’re his wife, you diaper me all on your own, and yes, you have a nice house once he’s graduated from residency, but every time you go to the movies he’s wearing his beeper, which GOES OFF during the climax because this is before anyone had a beeper except for doctors and no one thought anything except, “Gosh, I hope MY loved ones are safe.”

So anyway, oops! a little personal diversion there, and to be fair, my dad was there for every IMPORTANT moment in my life.

But onto my other favorite part of The Bachelor, which was the biggest turn-ons of the hopefuls:

• Hard nipples!?
• Baby oil
• Hair being pulled

And truly, I might be up for a little of all three sometimes (well, not the baby oil only because DUDE, did you not take 9th grade health class? Corrosion danger, Will Robinson, corrosion danger!) but LADIES! You are on NATIONAL TELEVISION! How about some, “someone who listens,” or “a gentle soul,” or “George Clooney.”

Really.

It’s embarrassing.

But will I be watching next week?

Of course.

TMF

As in Too Much Fun. And now I am Tired.

But to sum up:

First week back to school was so disorienting that on Thursday I forgot to wear deodorant, missed an important meeting, and discovered at a four-way stop when a silver projectile flew off my car that I had left my cell phone on my car roof.

I also attended my first bar review as a 2L and managed to:

• Be caught pointing out Neeta and my mortal enemies at law school, Crispy and Frosty (named for the state of their hair and lip gloss, respectively). I’m not sure WHAT we did to piss them off, but it started at Barrister’s Ball last year, where they were pointing at us with their acrylic nails and laughing
• Fail to secure Gloria a decent man, but there will be more bar reviews to follow!
• Inappropriately hug the guy who probably already think I’m a stalker, oops!

On Friday, Laurie and I tipsy-dialed France! Three times! To confirm our hotel reservations in March. There was A LOT of giggling involved. We’ve decided Marc, l’homme qui answered the phone, can’t be anything but a devastatingly handsome and slightly smelly man.

On Saturday, it was fellow Capricorn Shannon’s birthday party!

The birthday girl:

Penny, Karman, and me:

Faith and Jane, crafting away:

Karman, Maryann, and Eric, who told the second-best Poop story of the evening:

Amber (who told the first best Poop story of the evening, which really rivaled the best I had ever heard before, an unnamed co-conspirator, and hostess Laurie.

David and Alex. Alex is German!

And at some point, the night devolved into a 7-11 run. In which my three passengers made baby feet on my car window, since my defogger wasn’t working from the time I spilled coffee into the dash on my way up to Redding.

Here is our 7-11 clerk! He LOVED getting his pic taken! LOVED it!

And later the night devolved yet further. Where suddenly everyone NEEDED to be measured. And there was a lot of fighting over my technique as Designated Measurer, but I think you’ll agree that my knitting needle case and pink gel pen technique looks very precise, n’est-ce que pas? Also, I am wearing Laurie’s barn jacket, returned to chic by John Kerry in 2004.

Thank goodness I have tomorrow off from school to recover.

3L Powers Should Be Used for GOOD, Not EVIL, Young Master

The Scene: A overly-warm, over-filled law school classroom, five minutes before class starts. Neeta and I are in the second-to-last row, where we’ve been for the last 10 minutes, finishing up the remainder of our reading and basking in the glory of back-row seats on seating-chart day.

[Enter pale, puffy 3L, who sits down next to us in a huff and mutters something to the other 3Ls on the other side of him.]

PP3L: Can you guys move?

[Our heads slowly swivel toward him, wondering if he could possibly mean us.]

PP3L: There are more people coming. Could you move?

Neeta: Your friends didn’t tell us these seats were taken.

[I start to see if we can slide over, but there is only one empty seat next to us.]

Me: We can move down one?

PP3L: There were TWO other people that were going to sit here. I mean, it’s not like they haven’t been SITTING HERE for the past two days.

[We want to say, Oh! you’re right! And we know this because we’ve been keeping track of where YOU and your UGLY friends sit.]

Me: Well, there is nowhere for us to go. The room is full. [Gesture to rows in front of us, where, indeed, any IDIOT can see there are no seats available.]

PP3L: I mean, they’ve sat here every day.

Neeta (under breath): Can you believe this asshole?

Me: Well, there is nowhere for us to move.

[Enter the last two people (3L girls) to come into class, THE ONLY PEOPLE HE COULD BE WAITING FOR, who give him the drive-by wave and sit down IN THE SEATS THEIR OTHER FRIENDS HAVE BEEN SAVING FOR THEM.]

Uh-huh.

I think we all know exactly what went on there. PP3L has some hard-on for one of the late-arriving girls, and this is his LAST SEMESTER to impress her with his well-organized classnotes and JPMorgan Chase-Avon Run/Walk t-shirts and cargo shorts.

Desperation sets in and who bears the brunt of his sexual frustration? Neeta and me!

So not fair. And so not genteel. Which is why it’s his last semester and his only hope for action is that this girl will want to use his masterful outline and fall in love over the way he crystallized the indigents’ right to counsel into a few pithy lines.

Good luck, buddy. May the force be with you.

Right-Ho, Jeeves!

One of the only books I made it around to reading over break was P.G. Wodehouse’s collection of Jeeves stories, Life with Jeeves.

And I’ve decided. I need me one. A Jeeves.

He could wake me up in the morning to tea and scones, or with one of his miraculous eye-openers after a long night cutting it up at the club. He could tell me my jeans don’t look cute with that top, and if I ignore his advice, donate the top to charity (but of course I’d have to forgive him because he helped me escape the wrath of a jilted lover), and wee, life with Jeeves is the good life!

Sigh.

Instead, I guess I’ll be washing my own car tomorrow (still has cat litter in it from taking F&E up to Redding, CLASSY!). And no one will save me from having to watch all the bachelors of the 2L class make googly eyes at the It Girl who sits in front of me in CrimPro. And probably lunch tomorrow will be Cheez-Its instead of steak au poivre.

Sigh.

You know you want a Jeeves, too.

Who would your Jeeves be? A pool boy — Raoul or Jean-Luc, perhaps? A personal assistant — Barbie? Gary? Sandra? A life coach — Phil or Deepak, anyone? Or, if you are soooo LA, perhaps a “satisfaction consultant.” That’s a new one I just heard about — to me, it sounds like a hooker, but whatevs! Not a judger!

So who is your Jeeves?

Some Enchanted Evening

Friday night was the best night I have had in a long time.

In celebration of my birthday and our upcoming trip to Paris, I threw a French bistro-themed birthday party, complete with coq au vin, beet salad, fondue, and creme caramel.

This was the first time I have had a party in the three years I have lived in this apartment, and the first time I have cooked an entire meal for eight people EVER. And can I tell you how shocked I was when it all came off so well?

Just LOOK at that coq au vin:

And Amber gave me a fondue set for my birthday, which made for some DELECTABLE bread in cheese dipping. Here she is doing some cheese grating:

And Gloria graciously pretty much made the beet, leek, chevre and frisee salad for me, and also made these yummy prosecco and strawberry puree fizzies:

And I seriously nearly cried with joy when the creme caramel tasted just as good as those I’ve had in restaurants. Perhaps it was a touch uncouth when I announced this at the dinner table and prattled on for a few minutes about HOW AWESOME the dessert that I MADE was, but what can you do?

And Shannon (a fellow Capricorn) and Karman (a Capricorn lover) gave me a truly Capricorned-out beauty package of a nail-polish remover stick (for precision), earthy fall color nail polishes, and a nail file case (which I have been wanting for like FOREVER because I hate how my sunglasses get scratched my the nail files in my purse).

And Laurie, in addition to other awesome gifts, gave me this priceless ugly-70s-food-picture French cookbook:

She also brought along some of those gorgeous Sofia minis. Here’s Shannon enjoying hers:

We all sat around and stuffed ourselves silly and talked about our upcoming Paris trip, and other fun but important stuff, and then Penny and Rachel, who also came over early to help me clean (thanks, ladies!), slept over and we watched Three Men and a Baby and passed out.

And you know? I can’t tell you how important this night was for me. To be surrounded by people who know and love me, and who are all brilliant and interesting and generous and warm in their own quirky ways. To pull off a great meal, when law school pulls the rug out and makes you think that you can’t do anything well.

A truly enchanting evening, and the best way to start 2006.