Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Legal Times
I had court today. No, I do not mean that there are civil or criminal charges pending against me. When I say that I had court, it generally means that I went over to the court building to wait half an hour for one of the cases I’m handling to be called and the judge to realize he accidentally forgot to just grant my motion for a thirty-day extension of time so that neither of us would have to deal with the appearance. I think my record for speaking at these appearances is something like ten words. There are exceptions, though, such as when a certain judge who shall remain nameless yelled at me for five minutes because he had my case confused with another one. (How come they never get me confused with the case they intended to give free ice cream?) I’ve also had days where the judge was in a whimsical mood and just wanted to wax poetic about today’s pop hits or something for a while. But today was fairly standard – in, out, on with life.
I do love, though, the sights and sounds of the court building. For instance, did you know that some people see nothing wrong with wearing sweatpants to appear before a municipal court? Or a shirt that says “Conserve Water – Drink Beer?” Then there are those who are wholly unfamiliar with the concept of a metal detector, and need about fifteen passes as they slowly shed all manner of studded clothing and facial jewelry before finally being subjected to the ignominy of a wanding. And the people who loudly take emotionally involved personal calls in the hallways outside the courtrooms. Me, I’m just there for the sweet, sweet justice.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Weekend News
Allow me to join the chorus of people in Chicago complaining about the October-like weather we've been experiencing this weekend. It makes me want to order a pumpkin-spiced latte and pass out some fun-sized Snickers to the neighborhood hooligans. I went out for my run today and there were people in long running pants. In July. Not acceptable.
On the other hand, I've gotten a lot done being largely confined to the indoors this weekend. Laundry, writing, shopping, some quality gym visits. We also went and saw The To-Do List, which was all right. I will admit that it was selected mainly based on the fact that it was playing at a convenient time in a convenient theater, but I also thought it looked pretty funny from the commercials. Everyone in it was pretty likable (except Bill Hader, who I've never enjoyed for some reason, perhaps his eyebrows) and I remember laughing a lot, but I pretty much forgot it the minute I walked out of the theater. I seriously can't remember one bit from it in any degree of detail. But yeah, it was pretty enjoyable for reasons I cannot recall.
It's also been a hot weekend on lifetime. I finally caught most of A Mother's Nightmare (Annabeth Gish) yesterday and right now we're closing things off with the classic The Perfect Nanny (Tracy Nelson) right now. What a great time to be alive.
Allow me to join the chorus of people in Chicago complaining about the October-like weather we've been experiencing this weekend. It makes me want to order a pumpkin-spiced latte and pass out some fun-sized Snickers to the neighborhood hooligans. I went out for my run today and there were people in long running pants. In July. Not acceptable.
On the other hand, I've gotten a lot done being largely confined to the indoors this weekend. Laundry, writing, shopping, some quality gym visits. We also went and saw The To-Do List, which was all right. I will admit that it was selected mainly based on the fact that it was playing at a convenient time in a convenient theater, but I also thought it looked pretty funny from the commercials. Everyone in it was pretty likable (except Bill Hader, who I've never enjoyed for some reason, perhaps his eyebrows) and I remember laughing a lot, but I pretty much forgot it the minute I walked out of the theater. I seriously can't remember one bit from it in any degree of detail. But yeah, it was pretty enjoyable for reasons I cannot recall.
It's also been a hot weekend on lifetime. I finally caught most of A Mother's Nightmare (Annabeth Gish) yesterday and right now we're closing things off with the classic The Perfect Nanny (Tracy Nelson) right now. What a great time to be alive.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Men At Work
I don’t usually write about my job, because so much of what I do is confidential (I am busy and important), but I’m in a good mood today, so I thought I’d share a few of the fun things I enjoy about what I do:
2. Sometimes the files contain letters from “the real killer.” That are written in handwriting suspiciously similar to that of the convicted killer. And contain dramatic phrases like “think about it – we completely violated your rights and walked away scot free.”
3. There’s a food court in the building. With a Taco Bell Express.
4. I frequently go the whole day without the phone ringing once. And most of the emails I get are from companies that want me to take their continuing legal education. It’s a far cry from the angry weekend email rants I once knew.
5. I get to do a lot of writing, and no one edits it to make it worse. It’s kind of nice to know that you’re not going to be overruled by someone whose only knowledge of the case comes from a bullet point summary you gave them three months ago.
6. Sometimes there is step dancing in the food court. Not that I participate, but it’s nice to live in a world where people can step dance a few yards away from an Arby’s. Let me stress that I am not making this up.
Also, not working nights and weekends is pretty durned nifty. Who knew?
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
World War Z
So I went to the Jay-Z/Justin Timberlake concert last night at Soldier Field. I haven’t been to a big concert like that in a long time, given that I generally avoid crows like Sharon Stone avoids age-appropriate clothing, so I definitely took away some key learnings.
First of all, on a busy night like that, even the worst bars in America will be packed as though they were hosting the public stoning of Chris Brown. And if your friend happens to forget her ID, they will look at her as if she just shot an infant in the face.
Second, people will not enjoy it when you come into the concert an hour late, wandering around with your cameraphone flashlight to check out all the row and seat numbers so you can find your spot. Apparently, this somehow impairs their enjoyment of SexyBack.
Third, Justin Timberlake is sort of starting to resemble Andre Agassi. And not like young, mavericky sex symbol Andre Agassi; we’re talking full grown, weepy, male pattern baldness Andre Agassi here.
Fourth, it is unreasonable to hope that Beyonce will appear. Or, for that matter, Oprah. They actually do have a few other things to do.
Fifth, prepare for a contact high. Don’t plan to visit your probation officer or apply for welfare in a red state the next day.
Sixth, there is a wide range of apparel that people apparently deem appropriate for a concert. Swimwear is not out of the question.
Seventh, do not be alarmed by all of the pedicabs. It’s actually kind of fun to walk past them as they struggle uphill.
Finally, it is not necessary to actually know any Jay-Z or Justin Timberlake songs. In fact, judging by the girl sitting with her arms crossed in the row in front of me for the entire concert, you can attend just to complain about knowing any of the songs the whole time.
Let’s hear it for the musical arts and, of course, for America.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Sigh.
It's Saturday afternoon and I'm just coming around to the realization that no trolley is coming to pick me up tonight for an evening of short shorts and domestic light beers. What do you think it would run me to hire one just, you know, for my life? It could take me to the grocery store and whatnot.
I'm trying to figure out where the day went. I know that's a common theme for me, and I swear to god I am not suffering from blackouts. I guess I did spend the morning at the gym, which is hard to feel bad about, except of course physically, since I feel like Kirstie Alley has been sitting on my chest. Then my friend came over for a bit this afternoon with her dog; the trick there is always to remember to act more interested in the friend than the dog. Also I cleaned the shower, since apparently my cleaning lady doesn't see fit to do that any more. (Yes, they've changed cleaning ladies on me again, or so I suspect due to the shower thing and the fact that I know longer come home to find my dining chairs in a square around my round dining table.) And, okay, I watched a little bit of Just My Luck starring Lindsay Lohan. So that's a pretty full life, right? Nothing sad about that. Well, except for Lindsay.
It's Saturday afternoon and I'm just coming around to the realization that no trolley is coming to pick me up tonight for an evening of short shorts and domestic light beers. What do you think it would run me to hire one just, you know, for my life? It could take me to the grocery store and whatnot.
I'm trying to figure out where the day went. I know that's a common theme for me, and I swear to god I am not suffering from blackouts. I guess I did spend the morning at the gym, which is hard to feel bad about, except of course physically, since I feel like Kirstie Alley has been sitting on my chest. Then my friend came over for a bit this afternoon with her dog; the trick there is always to remember to act more interested in the friend than the dog. Also I cleaned the shower, since apparently my cleaning lady doesn't see fit to do that any more. (Yes, they've changed cleaning ladies on me again, or so I suspect due to the shower thing and the fact that I know longer come home to find my dining chairs in a square around my round dining table.) And, okay, I watched a little bit of Just My Luck starring Lindsay Lohan. So that's a pretty full life, right? Nothing sad about that. Well, except for Lindsay.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Thanks, Neighbor!
There used to be a column in my hometown paper called "Thanks, Neighbor!" Actually, maybe there still is; I don't read the Quincy Herald-Whig much any more as I have little need for news on hog future prices and the politics of the Elks lodge. Frankly, the fact that there still is such a thing as a hometown paper in Quincy is impressive enough. What with the internet and all. It's a series of tubes is really what it is.
Anyway, I always enjoyed this column because although it was ostensibly a way for people to write in and say nice things about the nice things their neighbors did for them because they are nice, it invariably trended towards passive aggressive bitching. People thanking their neighbors for "finally" cleaning up their yards or "agreeing to keep the noise down since I have small children." Such is human nature, I suppose.
And now I have some neighbors I'd like to "thanks," but I'm pretty sure the Chicago Tribune doesn't offer that as an option. After months of relative quiet (read: the music could still be heard every night, but the whole building wasn't shaking), the downstairs neighbors are at it again. Throbbing bass all the time. And the new roommate down there apparently likes country. Have you ever heard Kenny Chesney at full volume with the bass up? Because I'm pretty sure the prisoners at Guantanamo have.
There's also the issue of them leaving the building's front door open constantly. Along with their own front door. Out of which a haze of marijuana smoke is leaking. As though "we take no security measures and have drugs on hand" is the message we want to be sending to the world.
Oh, and the general douchiness. Like wearing swimsuits instead of shorts and setting off firecrackers on the roof. And leaving empty Old Style Light cans in the hallways. Come to think of it, I'm not sure that "thanks" will even cover it.
There used to be a column in my hometown paper called "Thanks, Neighbor!" Actually, maybe there still is; I don't read the Quincy Herald-Whig much any more as I have little need for news on hog future prices and the politics of the Elks lodge. Frankly, the fact that there still is such a thing as a hometown paper in Quincy is impressive enough. What with the internet and all. It's a series of tubes is really what it is.
Anyway, I always enjoyed this column because although it was ostensibly a way for people to write in and say nice things about the nice things their neighbors did for them because they are nice, it invariably trended towards passive aggressive bitching. People thanking their neighbors for "finally" cleaning up their yards or "agreeing to keep the noise down since I have small children." Such is human nature, I suppose.
And now I have some neighbors I'd like to "thanks," but I'm pretty sure the Chicago Tribune doesn't offer that as an option. After months of relative quiet (read: the music could still be heard every night, but the whole building wasn't shaking), the downstairs neighbors are at it again. Throbbing bass all the time. And the new roommate down there apparently likes country. Have you ever heard Kenny Chesney at full volume with the bass up? Because I'm pretty sure the prisoners at Guantanamo have.
There's also the issue of them leaving the building's front door open constantly. Along with their own front door. Out of which a haze of marijuana smoke is leaking. As though "we take no security measures and have drugs on hand" is the message we want to be sending to the world.
Oh, and the general douchiness. Like wearing swimsuits instead of shorts and setting off firecrackers on the roof. And leaving empty Old Style Light cans in the hallways. Come to think of it, I'm not sure that "thanks" will even cover it.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
The Trolley Song
Did I mention that Former Roommate Liz is getting married? She's one of my most popular recurring characters (she tests way better than Frank the Intestinal Parasite or that guy who screams randomly on the train), so it's probably worth some discussion. The big event will take place in Maine this September; I assume, though I have not asked, that Stephen King will be the celebrant. I am also planning to sing "Wind Beneath My Wings" by Bette Midler as the bride walks down the aisle.
Anyway, last night was her bachelorette party. I normally don't attend bachelorette parties, as penis-shaped objects frighten me (as do things shaped like other things generally), but in this case I made an exception. There was an '80s theme and yes, a trolley became involved. By the way, it turns out that there are people out there who actually take their tops off at the mere sight of a trolley.
There was pre-drinking prior to the trolley, because let's face it, you want to be good and sauced for a trolley. The gate in the background is for my friend's child, not me, although it probably didn't hurt for me in any event.
I don't know how Kanye wears this style of sunglasses all the time, because they seriously almost blinded me after just a single night. Not pictured are the tiny powder blue athletic shorts I paired with this glamorous tanks.
Former Roommate Liz on the trolley. There was karaoke, if by karaoke you mean everyone shouting along with the stereo. Yeah, we're pretty hardcore.
Friday, July 12, 2013
Stall Tactics
So there I was, at the urinal in my office bathroom, minding my own business (har har), when I heard a cell phone ring from one of the stalls. This wasn’t itself the most surprising thing in the world, and as I am not Patti Lupone starring in Gypsy, I did not drop everything to yell at the responsible party. But I was a bit surprised when said party then answered the call, which led me to assume that it must be something absolutely vital/urgent, such as the president offering a cabinet-level appointment or Shonda Rhimes phoning with fresh spoilers for season three of Scandal. Instead, it appeared to be a purely social call, which then continued for several minutes, despite intermittent interruptions from flushing and hand drying. Nor was there any acknowledgement of the potential awkwardness of the situation, with the speaker instead representing several times (and indeed accurately) that he was “at the office.” Has this person never encountered the phrase “Can I call you back in a few minutes?” Or, for that matter, voicemail?
For my part, I just decided to get the heck out of there before someone starting Skyping from the handicapped stall. I guess I shouldn’t be too shocked, as I have also previously encountered a gentleman who scratches off lottery tickets in the workplace stalls (I was frankly relieved that that was what the strange sound and weird residue ended up being) and a fellow who stands about three feet back from the urinal as though he’s afraid it might attack him. And indeed I cannot rule that out. It is a dangerous world out there.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Can We Talk About Amanda Bynes for a Minute?
Of course I've always been a fan of her cinematic work. Watching her in She's The Man, you really believe that she's a man. A five-foot, intensely feminine, obviously crazy man, but a man nonetheless. Watching her in What A Girl Wants, you really believe that she's a sassy American teen shocking crusty British society with her unconventional style and attitude. You doubt that anyone would actually find any of this style or attitude shocking (and wish they would spare us the musical montage of Amanda Bynes trying on outfits at a flea market), but you believe her. Watching her in Syndey White, you really believe that she's a person who would think it's a good idea to agree to star in Sydney White.
But anyway, all of that is beside the point. The point is that The Bynes' recent behavior has given us all some cause for concern. Let's review the evidence, shall we? She retired from acting via twitter, then unretired. She started driving her car into people and things. She plead her case directly to the President of the United States, again via twitter. She announces that she is starting a fashion line, and yet mysteriously no clothes are forthcoming. She starts calling basically everyone ugly on twitter. She asks Drake to murder her vagina.
And then there is the physical evidence. Cheek studs. A blond wig that looks like it came out of the costume box in my storage unit. (Yes, I have a costume box. You know what? I bet Amanda Bynes does, too.) A nose job that she claims was "to remove webbing between her eyes." A bright blue wig. For court. Crazy eyes.
Amanda, we love you, we want you to live! But when even Courtney love is tweeting that you need to get your shit together, you know you're in trouble.
But anyway, all of that is beside the point. The point is that The Bynes' recent behavior has given us all some cause for concern. Let's review the evidence, shall we? She retired from acting via twitter, then unretired. She started driving her car into people and things. She plead her case directly to the President of the United States, again via twitter. She announces that she is starting a fashion line, and yet mysteriously no clothes are forthcoming. She starts calling basically everyone ugly on twitter. She asks Drake to murder her vagina.
And then there is the physical evidence. Cheek studs. A blond wig that looks like it came out of the costume box in my storage unit. (Yes, I have a costume box. You know what? I bet Amanda Bynes does, too.) A nose job that she claims was "to remove webbing between her eyes." A bright blue wig. For court. Crazy eyes.
Amanda, we love you, we want you to live! But when even Courtney love is tweeting that you need to get your shit together, you know you're in trouble.
Sunday, July 07, 2013
The Fabulous Fourth
Let me tell you, America really turned forty in style. (America is of course much older than that, but like Catherine Zeta-Jones, always lies about her age.) There was flag cake, of course, along with a cookie cake that formerly said "congratulations" until I took the plastic thingy off. There was chili cheese dip and pasta salad, which I made way too much of and got to eat for the three succeeding days as well. I unveiled new patio furniture, which I promptly hid from the destructive hands of my neighbors. There were state-sanctioned fireworks that were visible from my roof, as well as the unsanctioned kind set off by my aforementioned neighbors, which may or may not have been responsible for a dumpster fire in our alley. And there was alcohol, in a new cooler, which is still sitting in my hallway because I'm still not quite sure where else to put it.
Friday I had work. Did you know that Friday was a work day? I guess most of Chicago did not, because downtown was a ghost town that day. Which was fine by me, because it left me practically alone on the train to rehydrate and play Candy Crush on my phone.
Yesterday I saw Man of Steel. It was okay. There were a lot of unintentional laughs and there was absolutely no reason for it to be in 3D, but I basically enjoyed it. Michael Shannon is mad creepy, no? And Amy Adams' nose is actually sort of alarmingly pointy in 3D. Did I mention that I've never actually read comic books? But I do find it kind of hilarious that people freak if they change one word of Superman #52 but see no problem with Baz Luhrmann adding car chases and Carey Mulligan to The Great Gatsby.
Today there was a Seventh Heaven marathon. Heaven, indeed.
Friday I had work. Did you know that Friday was a work day? I guess most of Chicago did not, because downtown was a ghost town that day. Which was fine by me, because it left me practically alone on the train to rehydrate and play Candy Crush on my phone.
Yesterday I saw Man of Steel. It was okay. There were a lot of unintentional laughs and there was absolutely no reason for it to be in 3D, but I basically enjoyed it. Michael Shannon is mad creepy, no? And Amy Adams' nose is actually sort of alarmingly pointy in 3D. Did I mention that I've never actually read comic books? But I do find it kind of hilarious that people freak if they change one word of Superman #52 but see no problem with Baz Luhrmann adding car chases and Carey Mulligan to The Great Gatsby.
Today there was a Seventh Heaven marathon. Heaven, indeed.
Friday, July 05, 2013
'merica!
In honor of our great nation's birthday, here's a list of some of the greatest things about it:
-- Reba
-- Air conditioning
-- Chili's
-- Freedom
-- Freedom fries
-- Lifetime television for women
-- Democracy, at least until ten days ago
-- That one Ke$ha song I like
-- Mom
-- Apple pie
-- Your mom's apple pie, and yes I mean that in a dirty way
-- Swimming pools
-- The Constitution, minus that slavery business
-- Parades, but not Parade magazine
-- Pixar movies
-- Cool old buildings, unless they're haunted
-- Our founding fathers, minus that slavery business
-- Reba
-- Reba
-- Air conditioning
-- Chili's
-- Freedom
-- Freedom fries
-- Lifetime television for women
-- Democracy, at least until ten days ago
-- That one Ke$ha song I like
-- Mom
-- Apple pie
-- Your mom's apple pie, and yes I mean that in a dirty way
-- Swimming pools
-- The Constitution, minus that slavery business
-- Parades, but not Parade magazine
-- Pixar movies
-- Cool old buildings, unless they're haunted
-- Our founding fathers, minus that slavery business
-- Reba
Tuesday, July 02, 2013
Best Week Ever
Is there anything better than a week with a holiday in the middle of it? That way it feels like two short weeks in a row. Everyone gets into a good mood and forgoes the usual routine of shoving strangers on the train and having loud personal phone calls with the office door open. Sometimes there are snacks. Heck, by Friday, I bet everyone will be rolling in 11ish in their pajama jeans and making cocktails in the copy room. It's the adult equivalent to watching VHS tapes of Reading Rainbow when your third grade teacher got too burnt out to care.
