There Must Be a Dead Body Somewhere

No, I just attempted some Sprinkles red velvet cupcakes this evening, the mix a birthday present (January, that’s how much I love baking) from my friend Tiffany. We’ll see how they turn out. I still have an aftertaste from the batter (Again, I love baking. Psych. Yes, I just used “psych.” I may use “not” next, a term only marginally less dated. Just watch me.).

Anyway, I wanted to make some cupcakes for my fellow bar studying sufferers. Tomorrow is our last in-class day of ingesting new, substantive law, so I figured why not let them ingest some new, delicious cupcakes? Or why not poison them? Either way, works for me. NOT.

Also, I may be going a little crazy. This is what happens when you spend most of every single day for the last 6 weeks with your pert (or piggy-like, you say tomAHto, I say tomAYto) little nose tucked into the Conviser Mini-Review of G-dforesaken Law. It’s like kismet.

In any case, I wanted to thank you for all your shoe recommendations. Dude, there are a lot of Keens wearers out there! I ended up going with these:

Studiously non-Teva like, and very much like many of the Keens you all recommended, no?

I figure they will be great in the Amazon, so if I’m thrown off the boat, I can still swim safely to shore in my 280g shoes. Sure, I will have already contracted dengue hemorrhagic fever, but whatevs.

Actually, despite my depression about my failed cupcakes and inability to master priorities in foreclosure, I am REALLY excited about my vacation! Last night I booked our hotel in Rio, and this weekend I plan to finish making the rest of the month’s bookings.

And I have a question for you: the end of our trip will be in Buenos Aires, and it will be The Boy and my one year anniversary. Have you ever been to B.A.? If so, do you have any recommendations for restaurants for our anniversary dinner? I am really hoping to knock his socks off. Not that he will be wearing any! It is VACATION, man, no socks required! Psych. Over my dead body. We’ve got to go somewhere nice and rock this one-year milestone. Recommendations?

The Good Book, Chapters 1-4 (a) and (b)

1.
I was worried about Brenda Leigh Johnson. Her show ROCKS, but I have been deeply worried that she was not treating her man Fritzie right and that he couldn’t handle her and would high-tail it and leave her and Kitty all alone. YES I KNOW I AM WORRIED DEEPLY ABOUT A TV CHARCTER’S LOVE LIFE. AND THE FATE OF HER CAT. I feel much better after tonight’s episode, however, whew!

I am still worried that Brenda Leigh was chomping on some Keebler’s whatnots, which turned out to be the sponsor of the show and received a very weird 30-second close-up, but I am trying to ignore the scourge of product placement infecting all shows I love. (sniff).

2.
I think I might purchase a pair of Tevas, and I am a little scared. I HATE TEVAS. I have told you about The Teva Gauntlet, thrown down on my last vacation with The Boy. But damn, if those REALLY UGLY mofos aren’t convenient for crossing streams and hiking, which I’ll be doing in a month in Brazil/Argentina, woohoo! This doesn’t mean I’ve lost all sense of chic, right? Right? I’m comforting myself with the thought that I’ll find some cute teva-equivalents. Jeebus.

3.
On Saturday I went over to Laurie‘s for a low-key, belated birthday celebration with her and Amber. And it was wonderful, not only because it was nice to realize there is life beyond studying for the bar, but also because it’s so nice to sit down with women you love, with some green chile tamales (thanks, Amber!), and talk about IMPORTANT STUFF. To have conversations you won’t forget because they are REAL, about love, tv, life, and sex and everything we all yearn to talk about all day long. The best.

4.
What was also cool is that Laurie sent me home with some fresh basil and thyme from her garden, which spiced my eggs and home fries the next morning, and also: HER BOOK.

I started to read her book this evening. I had planned to just take in a chapter or so during the commercials of The Closer. I paused the DVR when I hadn’t finished a chapter at the end of the commercial, and next thing I knew I was at p. 79. And I already know how it turns out! I know almost every turn of the story! I was there! Yet I found it riveting.

It’s really weird to realize that, while you have known that your best friend is an amazing writer (b/c you read her blog every day), she can write A BOOK. A GOOD BOOK. That you can’t put down.

It’s also weird (in a good way) to see on paper the role that you play in someone’s life, even when you were just doing what came natural at the time.

It reminds me of how my one of my best high school friends Tina and her college roommate Anita, came to visit me when I lived in NY. Anita was there to interview for the Soros fellowship, which pays all of your law school expenses. When Tina and Anita asked, I was like, sure! of course come stay with me! It will be fun! I had no idea what a difference this made in Anita’s life (she got the scholarship, she’s awesome that way) until years later, when she referred to it in a way that conveyed the importance of the weekend, while for me it was like, THANK G-D, someone I know in NY! It made me so happy to realize later that I’d played a role in someone’s pivotal life moment.

Thus, two lessons learned (and I’m only on p. 79!):

a. Even someone that you’ve known for years is amazingly talented can still surprise you with the depth of that talent.

b. The little things that mean something to you? Can mean everything to someone else. Life is awesome that way.

I Have Something To Say.

Not anything important, just SOMETHING, which is rare for me these days.

#1.
I am, yet again, walking around in pegged pants this evening, the product of a botched pedicure. The first one I did at 7:45 this morning, 10 minutes before I had to leave for stupid ^&*#$#$@ class. There is nothing like being about ready to leave the house before you remember that you took your nail polish off the night before, leaving your yellowed, ridged toes available for plain view. Ew.

Now, I’m trying to repair the damage.

p.s. This morning, in a fit of frustration, I also threw about 10 bottles of nail polish out as too thick, unsuitable for human use, and now they are staring at me in the garbage. I should leave them there, right? Thinning via nail polish remover is a fool’s dream, right?

#2.
I hope you all do not think I am trying to be all Miss Smartypants with my law references. I thought about this today and realized you might think I might be suffering from a MAJOR case of Pretension, when you know, and I know, and I know that you know, that “an ounce of pretension is worth a handful of manure.” But truly, I am just making stupid law references to convey de pain, de pain! that I am going through.

#3.
I love Top Chef. Favorite. But tonight there was a “Kingsford Barbeque Challenge.” Is this really where we’re at? THAT level of product placement, where EVERYTHING is named by brand? I got really mad when all of a sudden my beloved Candlestick (may live in LA now, but SF Giants fan ’til I die, PLEASE DO NOT MENTION BARRY TO ME) turned into Pac Bell park, even when the relocation brought some seriously awesome garlic fries.

Is this where we are, already? I know people have been selling their foreheads for a while now (I think my fivehead would go for double, surely), but is this really where we are? I find it troubling. You?

I Am a Lap, I Am an Island

One of the things I love most about kids and animals is they are oblivious to the notion that your body might not be designed purely for their comfort and pleasure. So they feel free to roam, perch, push and pull to their heart’s content without the least bit of guilt.

Being a lap/trampoline makes me very happy.

Of course, when your lap is entirely occupied with 25 lbs of fur, sometimes studying is difficult.

Luckily, you can always exact your revenge via sudden, startling movements.

That is #1 of the three most exciting things to happen to me in the last week.

#2.

I was walking on the apartment complex’s treadmill, learning about damages in quasi-contract cases (fascinating, truly), when this man, who may or may not be a one-time reality TV star, I shall not say, came into the gym, telling his blonde ladyfriend he’d see her up in the apartment in five minutes. I was perplexed — what did he plan on doing in five minutes in the gym? Some quick bicep pulls before dinner? “People in LA are weird,” is probably what I thought to myself because this is a thought I have almost daily.

Oh no. What he was planning on doing was taking a giant (I assume), STINKY POO in the gym bathroom and then leaving me behind to try to remember to breathe through my mouth for the next 42 minutes.

I have forgiven him, however, because hey, wise choice, dude. You were right to think that stench could have scared off your lady. And also, his little daschund is really cute and he seems like a loving pet dad, walking it eleventy times a day. Even steven.

#3.

The Boy expressed a sudden desire for fish this weekend, and I complied.

Pan-Friend Trout with Bacon

I did not know his desire was inspired by the new Filet-o-Fish commercials for McDonald’s. Perhaps if I had I would have made something a little different, not involving capers and bacon for goodness’ sake. But I’m happy I made what I did. I’ve never really made fish before, and it turned out great. Plus, I learned a bit. For instance, did you know that “boned” actually means “deboned?” Yes? Good for you. You are not an idiot. I am. Also, I mean seriously, what side would you think FLESH side would be? The non-skin side? Well, lucky you, again: not an idiot. I spent about 15 minutes in existential debate about this issue before giving in and looking it up online.

We also made the EASIEST DESSERT EVER. Oh, Barefoot Contessa, you rocked my fruit-avoiding mouth with this one AND gave me an excuse to buy some really good balsamic vinegar, which I have been wanting to do for FOREVER. Yay, Ina!

Very Berry Fruit Salad

In margarita glasses, with a sprig of mint for garnish. And really, there’s only one thing you can do with leftover mint, no? MOJITOS.

The chance that I might give up early one night this weekend and make myself one (or two)? The only thing getting me through my arch nemesis, effectiveness of assignments against the obligor. That and some more lap time. Gah.

UPDATE: Stamens of Crocuses

OK, you probably don’t want to read the last entry I posted anyway. It is whiny. Criminally whiny, ha (this only makes sense if you read the last entry)!

Anyhoo, all I will say is that IT ALL BECOMES CLEAR NOW.

Did you know that saffron is the product of the stamen (male sex organ) of crocuses?

No? Neither did I until watching Barefoot Contessa’s LA Story episode (p.s., one of my favorite movies ever is L.A. Story, and it’s probably 50% of the reason I moved here, the other 25% being Jean Baudrillard’s America, which captured L.A. as the quintessential hyperreality, and the other 25% being I found a job here in the middle of the dot-com bomb, while my boyfriend at the time did NOT. EVER., hope he is not not reading this).

Anyway, the point is:

IT ALL BECOMES CLEAR NOW.

The Marcel/Ilan Top Chef Season 2 rib-jabbing over saffron?

Arguments over male organs. Of Crocuses. Of Course.

IT ALL BECOMES CLEAR NOW.

Good News Vulture

Man, it’s slim pickins off a tired carcass here for happy news. It’s hard to post when the only thought in your head is, WHY ISN’T THIS OVER YET?

It doesn’t help that I spent SEVEN HOURS today listening to someone go over California and Federal Civil Procedure a la Bob Barker. “And what do we have HERE, ladies and germs, why it’s In PerSOOOONam JurisDICtion, come on down!” I could handle the Real Property lecturer who taught us the elements of constructive eviction by singing them to the tune of a Dido song, but this was just TOO DAMN MUCH.

Anyway, Librarian Girl kindly tagged me with a meme (thanks!), so I’ve got that to look forward to, and there have been a few bright spots in the last week:

1. The Boy and I bought our tickets to Brazil/Argentina, woohoo!

2. I received my Envirosax reusable shopping bags, and they rock! Laurie, they are just the non-denominational grocery bags you are looking for and SO CUTE. They are not lying when they say they fit in your purse. Even when it is not the size of a weekender.

3. Arrested Development on DVD. Muy comico, hermano. Has replaced Barefoot Contessa as my evening repast.

4. Top Chef is starting on Wednesday! I am so excited — and interested to see if a pattern emerges that’s different from the past two seasons. Watching the 4 Star All Star episode tonight, I couldn’t believe how closely aligned in character archetypes the first two seasons were.

5. The Closer is starting next Monday.

And yes, THREE of the five things on my list are TV. BECAUSE THAT IS MY LIFE. Rise. Attend class for 4 or 8 hours, depending on the day. Come home. Study for 5 hours. At some point, go for run so I do not go insane. Secretly glare at my neighbors walking their dogs, imagining them living carefree lives of domestic bliss. More studying. Watch TV. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Dammit, I knew I wouldn’t be able to get out of this entry without whining.

Luckily, whining isn’t a crime, as I’ve learned. If it were, though, it would have the following elements:

• (i) statement of frustration
• (ii) with a situation traditionally outside of the declarant’s control
• (iii) that a reasonable person would find annoying either because:
  (a) nobody knows the troubles he’s seen either!; or
  (b) would you SHUT UP, already?
• NOTE: this is a crime of malice: specific intent to annoy unnecessary; recklessness will suffice.

p.s. If you were also taking the California bar, you might find this mildly amusing. If not, I am sorry. And also on a post-hysteria high after today’s lecture. Mea culpa.

Adulthood, Dead Wood, Rhyming Takes Me Back to Childhood, Can I Stay There?

Is it just me, or is adulthood a LOT OF WORK?

I know, I have been an adult for a long time now, oh, twelve years. But tonight, scrambling to take care of the bare necessities of paperwork — paying my bills, harangueing Blockbuster for credit card charges for the full value of the movie, just because I had to watch Jagged Edge NINETY TIMES for my stupid Law & Popular Culture paper (hello! no late fees = bullhonkey*), etc. — I was struck by how much time it took. And how many dead trees.

I have done my best to sign up for only online statements for everything, but still some companies aren’t doing it yet. I mean YOU, all my student loan providers! And I put EVERYTHING on auto-debit. That has helped immensely.

Still, the accoutrements of adulthood are often overwhelming. You’ve got your debt, your 401(k), your car, thank-you notes, dinner parties to buy wine for, calls to friends you’ve neglected, SO MANY THINGS.

And I don’t even own a home! I cannot even imagine the added burden incurred by a real estate purchase.

Tell me I am not the only one drowning in a sea of responsibilities and dead wood. It’s hard, right? Any strategies to keep afloat?

*Haha. I totally used the phrase “bull honkey.” I have not done that since sixth grade. I am immediately incorporating it back into my daily lexicon.

On Courtship. Pun Totally Intended!

Studying for the bar is much like dating, I’ve decided.

There are a lot of ups and downs:

OMG! He called! … to cancel.

I got a 70% on my property practice exam! … but my correct answers were all lucky guesses.

It is also expensive:

Every first date for me required a new outfit. I am crazy that way.

Bar/Bri costs $3,000.

The most painful part, however, is that both require post-encounter analysis. I can’t tell you how many hours I whiled away with Laurie on the phone dissecting every off-hand remark for meaning only to discover I HAD NO IDEA. And I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve whiled away examining my incorrect answers on practice tests only to figure out that I STILL DON’T UNDERSTAND THE RULE AGAINST PERPETUITIES.*

With both the bar and dating, it’s through your mistakes that you learn. And with both, learning is a pain in the ass, really.

After I take a practice exam? My first instinct is to:
(1) See how many I got right, then;
(2) Cry, then;
(3) Take a nap.

A slightly amended formula for the end of an unsuccessful relationship: failure, tears, nap, then a night out with the girlfriends.

Jettison mental cargo, leave the dock. Ahoy, matey #2!

Or at least that’s what I always wanted to do. But then, I have to do the hard work. The going over of the answers: why did I pick A instead of C? What flawed premise was I working from? Why did it take me so long to understand A wasn’t the right answer? What flawed concept is attracting me to A?

I’m just hoping that the same hard work I did with dating — learning how to cut your losses early so you can move on, learning how to spot the right answer (woohoo!), will get me to the same result with bar preparation as it has with my love life:

Happy.

In other news, there was this great piece in Martha Stewart Living March 2007 about beautiful floral ribbon embroidery. And I tried to do some for my graduation thank you cards and failed — my card stock wasn’t strong enough for holes close enough to create flowers. But! tonight, after studying, I took a break and made my first embroidered card:

The writing looks a little cheesy, much like this post, but my first is always my worst, so I’m super excited for the next few I’ll make!

OMG. Apparently, I cannot stop with the learning talk. Perhaps I will start my own daytime talk show, “Come Learn with Jen!” Unfortunately, the topics will be limited to:

– Which covenants run with the land
– How to make kind of crappy-looking crafts that your family and friends endure because they love you

Still, I think it will be a hit. With me. I’m an easy one to court with that kind of stuff.

*I am not the only one. There is a famous California case where the court refused to find for the plaintiff in a malpractice suit against a lawyer who didn’t, like me, understand the rule against perpetuities.