Adios, por un mes!

Holy crap, it is already nearly a week past the bar, and I am in San Francisco in The Boy’s new digs (sniff, sniff), writing ONE LAST ENTRY before I head to Brazil and Argentina for a MONTH!!

I’m still having nightmares about the bar, waking up in the middle of the night working out the differences between California and federal evidence rules and applying adverse possession rules to my parents’ dilemma with their neighbors and their damn fence.

But you know what? WHO THE HELL CARES? I am heading South. Where caipirinhas, the beach, the Amazon, Argentinian wine country, all this awaits.

Thank you all so much for your support during the bar. I can’t wait to show up a month from now and share all my adventures, and to hear all of yours! Who knows what will have occurred in the blogosphere by the time I get back?! MY GOD, if Nicole Ritchie managed to get pregnant, who the hell knows what might have occurred. Pigs could fly, I could get a tan, I could get real drunk on caipirinhas (ok, I would put this in the LIKELY category), and dammit, you could be joining Lance Bass on the moon! (p.s. Um, Is it wrong that thinking about this I am getting a little anxious thinking about what you all might be doing while I’m away, what I might be missing FOR AN ENTIRE MONTH, eek?)

Anyway, adios, por un mes! Muchos besos! And whatever the hell that is in Portuguese!

Rockin’ My Way Back onto My Rocker

One more day!

I cannot believe I have made it through two days of the bar exam and am staring into the maw of day 3 already!

Thank you everyone for your well wishes.

No heads were shaved over the past few days, but I did, go, um, a little crazy. Off my rocker. I have never seen myself like this. It was a little scary.

By Sunday, I had developed (still have) a weird rash on my legs, 12 zits on my face (still there), and ITCHED EVERYWHERE. By Monday, the day before the exam, I was so close to meltdown that I called my parents at 9 a.m. to ask if I had hives, and if one could die from that. Apparently, as my dad told my sister Penny, I was showing signs of being a little “weepy,” and needed to get the hell out of my apartment before I completely lost it.

Which is why, at 5:00 p.m. on Monday, Penny and Gwen ROCKED MY WORLD and suprised the hell out of me by knocking on my door with a bag of 100% complete! unadulterated! exam-taking fun! from Target. Including some Aveeno creme for my rash, Vitamin Water, breath mints, gum, face wipes, anti-bacterial hand stuff, Advil, EVERYTHING.

Oh, those girls.

And then those girls? They took me to THE MALL. Where I got a new black dress and denim skirt from The Gap, a $10 awesome bangle from Banana, everything I need to feel great about the upcoming vacay.

When I can go to bed past 10:30, I will post some pictures, maybe! I am that excited about my purchases! And also about returning to blogging! And commenting (sorry!)!

And then we had dinner at Morel’s, my first non Lean Cuisine pizza meal in TWO WEEKS.

Oh. My. Holy. Crap.

They saved me, seriously. Rocked me right back on my rocker!

Gwen is heading off to law school herself in the fall, and man has she earned herself some good karma. I hope when she has decided that she KNOWS NOTHING and why even take those fall finals, really (actually, I hope she never feels this way, I hope I am the only one that nutty), someone comes along and rescues her, just like she did me.

And Penny? Now THAT is a good sister.

Seriously. Right back on my rocker. When I was so far off it I was like off the porch and about to head down the street braless and wailing about how equitable servitudes were a commie conspiracy.

One more day.

Reality…

Set in for me this evening.

Five more days.

And maybe I should be panicked? But really I am so f&*king grateful.

I was watching Top Chef tonight, watching them trudge in for another day of challenges, and I was like, holy crap! That is me. With the trudging. Only instead of trudging in to face Padme, Gail, Tom & some random chef nitpicking me to death, it’s the sample student answers for the California Bar Exam. WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE, with their 75 and 85 scores? Not me, that’s who.

It sucks that the Top Chef contestants leave their families and friends and whatnot for however many weeks to hang out in a plush Fountainbleu suite, but DUDE, I have abandoned my friends and family for the last 8 weeks to hang out in my apartment and go STIR-F&*^CKING-CRAZY. Now I understand the whole Cliff shaving Marcel’s head thing. After so long with one routine, one location, you just go batshit.

Which is where I am.

I just can’t wait for this to be over. Yesterday I was so starved for sugar, caffeine, anything to keep me awake as I trudged through Community Property one more g-dforesaken time that I drank a bottled caramel frappaccino dated Feb. 2007.

Also, my kitchen is a living, breathing health code violation. My hair is so long I am almost one of those people who you’re like, “Wow, they have really long hair and I wonder if perhaps they live in a yurt.”

PLEASE LET THIS BE OVER.

But! I cannot leave on such a horrible, downtrodden note. So I will tell you that I have (finally) made all of our reservations for Brazil and Argentina, which includes some time in Argentinian wine country, some time with the pirhanas in the Amazon, and who the hell cares what else because it at least does not involve “reasonableness” of any kind, variety, species, type, sort, genus, etc.!!!!

I HATE YOU REASONABLENESS.

If you are a lawyer, law student, you will understand my hate for reasonableness.

Otherwise, you will think I am batshit crazy.

Which is closer to the truth.

To reality.

And whatnot.

Two First Kisses

I don’t know if you read, but Laurie lost Roy on Tuesday. And because he was such an awesome, regal cat, I feel the need to share my own Roy story.

Roy was a hard one to win over — not as hard as Bob, who is still half-feral almost (although sometimes I can fool him by using Laurie’s super-secret pet name for him. He’ll finally let me pet him only to look up and realize, but wait! you are not my mommy! Bob is adorably gullible), but a hard nut to crack nonetheless.

But after a few times over at Laurie’s, back when she was still with Mr. X, one morning after a night out at The Mayan, Laurie was treating our Negro Modelo-soaked livers to the soothing combo of bacon and eggs. And Roy figured out that perhaps I wasn’t going to be able to finish mine. And he came up to me, right on my lap, and pushed his handsome little face right up into mine, right up to my lips, inhaling the bacon fumes with one eye on the leftovers.

He was too polite to just start chomping down on my leftover strips, but he was just, you know, hinting, that MMMMM, that smelled good and wouldn’t it be nice if I gave him some? Now?

That was my first kiss from Roy.

***

Also, LG asked me a question: the circumstances of my first kiss (from a boy, not a cat, I assume).

And as I owe her a meme and loved her own post about kissing and the accidental accrual of more kissed boys than we can name, here we go!

My first kiss didn’t come until the summer after NINTH GRADE. I was a Nerd, people. That dork in your class who won every single award, INCLUDING P.E. (not because she was at all athletic but because she just tried SO DAMN HARD)? Me. I in fact won “person whose homework you’d most like to copy” in ninth grade in a school newspaper survey, but because I was co-editor at the time, I figured I better make it look like a clean fight and listed #2 as tying me.

Anyway, I was a nerd. But somehow, there I was, in the Cinemark 8 with Joe, my best friend Melissa, and her “date,” Mark, watching “What About Bob?” After my mom had dropped us all off in the Toyota Previa. Yes, my first kiss memories feature Bill Murray taking baby steps, and a Toyota Previa was the vehicle to love. That is my life.

Joe and I were sitting next to one another, and things didn’t seem to be going anywhere for 3/4 of the movie. But then! suddenly! Richard Dreyfuss was having a mental breakdown and gum was being passed around! “Fuuuuuuuuck.”

That is what I thought to myself. “Fuuuuuuuck.” This is really happening.

And then it did. One quick lean over, and suddenly I was exposed to Joe’s dinner (which included some serious garlic, he was italian), and also more tongue than I thought was possible to find in one’s mouth. And more tongue of mine than I thought was possibly to clumsily shove into someone’s else’s maw.

It is not very romantic, this story.

Perhaps because my relationship with Joe was horrible, and scarred me for life. That a-hole made me keep our relationship a secret for THREE YEARS because apparently I was too nerdy to be seen in public with. And also because he was cheating on me.

It took a long time to get over that crap.

But now! I see the box for What About Bob? in the video store, and it only reminds me of those sweet moments of anticipation, before the crap, before the heavy influx of garlic only slightly masked by Extra Winterfresh, when I wondered, OH MY G-D, HOW IS THIS GOING TO WORK HE IS INCHING CLOSER IS THIS A SIGN IS IT GOING TO HAPPEN???

It’s much easier with cats.

When they move in for a kiss, it’s probably because you’ve just eaten bacon.

I Think My Brain Is Full.

Seven weeks of studying is too damn much. It’s been hard to talk to anyone, let alone to blog. You can only tell your friends and family about how you got nailed by an essay about the destructability of contingent remainders doctrine so many times before they stop calling. You certainly can’t subject strangers on the internet with it (whoopsie!). Even The Boy and I are struggling — “Hey, can you believe #16?” “No.” “Yeah, me neither.” “…”

So. Instead of writing about what’s going on in my life (NOTHING), I’ve got some questions for you:

1. Scrapbooking? Yea or nay? I watched on old Martha episode tonight with Keri Russell (unbelievably cute pregnant!), with scrapbooking as a theme. I actually had a scrapbook in college, before scrapbooking got crazy and complicated and EXPENSIVE and am considering whether to try again with our vacation photos, but don’t want it to be too cheesy. Are there products that aren’t too frou-frou? Or is this a doomed enterprise?

2. Somehow, at the age of 30, I have still not learned to shave my legs properly. There is ALWAYS a patch somewhere, usually somewhere prominent, that I have missed. What is wrong with me?

3. OK, this is actually about my life. I bought a new bag for vacation, because my other bag, the Hayden-Harnett Ibiza Convertible Flight Tote in black, which, I LOVE!!, seems inappropriate because it has a bunch of gold things on it. And I kind of think that when hanging out in the Amazon, it’s a little weird if one is carrying a bag ornamented by gold, right? So I got this one in marine. Cute, no? That is my question: cute, no?

4. Is it appropriate to go down to get your mail in your pajamas? Normally I can summon the energy to throw on a bra and some jeans (actually, I can only study when I have a bra on, weird), but sometimes I have a 2-minute debate with myself over whether it’s necessary. Thoughts?

5. Do you say “shut to?” Or just “to” in reference to doors? I told The Boy the other day to leave the door “to” and he looked at me like I was crazy. Is this just a southern thing (I am not southern exactly, but my parent are, y’all)?

6. Is not John Legend so freaking FINE? I have been listening to his album “Once Again” as my running album (I run REAL SLOW during some of the songs) and if I could just put him in my pocket and take him home…

7. Seven was going to be the end of it, being July, seven weeks into studying and all, but I can’t come up with #7. Perhaps you have some questions for me? We can trade! Also, it will give me something to write about next time, so I would be much obliged.

I Am a Piece of Veal.

Really. I am being fattened for slaughter.

I sit, caged in my apartment, 24 hours a day, ingesting law, regurgitating it when it becomes too much. Waiting for the day of reckoning (just three short weeks away, hallelujah!). It’s awesome.

HOWEVER, after talking to Laurie today (truly, you all need a friend who’s into self-help. It reminds me of when I was going to therapy, and I would show up not only with my own myriad problems in tow, but also those of my friends. “So, what should she do? Should she dump this guy or what?” I’m sure my therapist loved it, yep. My friends sure did — as do I when I now get to benefit from Laurie’s newfound wisdom).

Hm. I forget to end my sentence. Interesting.

Anyway, I was talking to my new guru Laurie (reference: sentence fragment above). And she was mentioning the necessity of looking for things for which to grateful.

So I thought of a few.

1. Newfound hairstyle, a gift to the unwashed among us. (You know who you are (me).)

Dude, it is so awesome. A couple little french braids, a side of Alterna Shine spray, and it’s like I washed my hair two days ago! Miracle! And bonus! I am in 10th grade again!

Front view.

Side view.

2. I have an appointment for color, cut, and a brazillian the day after the bar. I will be freshly coiffed EVERYWHERE! And ready for vacation.

3. Oh, Callanetics, I love you and your surprisingly effective butt exercises invented in the 1970s and practiced today only in Illinois, New Jersey and Oregon (how is it that this combo of states makes perfect sense to me?).

I do not love you because I think the Callan Pinckney of Callanetics is descended from the same Charles Pinckney that ensured the 3/5 rule made it into the Constitution (a-hole) (which I only know b/c I played George Washington in our 8th grade class’ reenactment of the Constitutional Convention, and had to keep my then-arch nemesis, Cory, in line when he was playing the unruly Pinckney). In fact, I often feel weird when I am doing the exercises.

However, Callan is saving me for vacation in a bikini:

And entertaining me with her semi-erotic poses and love for the leotard.

Also, I really wanted to post the book’s before-and-after photos of people’s flabby-to-firm asses (in just 10 classes!), which are the real reason I still rely on this 1970s throwback exercise routine, but I also want to keep my job should an employer ever stumble upon this site.

So, you’ll have to just imagine the magical transformation. Just like I am.

From veal.

To churrascaria and asado.