Saturday, December 29, 2018
2018 Roundup
As the year draws to a close, it's a good time to sit back, reflect, and watch sixteen consecutive hours of Hallmark movies. Here are some of my key takeaways from the year that was:
-- I'm going to catch some sort of disease every time I fly. I'm seriously considering becoming one of those people who wears the face mask on the plane. It would also probably keep people from trying to make small talk with me.
-- When I do catch something, the CVS clinic is pretty amazing. Get in, get out, get some drugs, maybe even pick up some gummy worms while you're at it.
-- Travel is still pretty worth it. Unless it's business travel, of course. Those two nights at Texas airport hotels didn't really spark joy for me, shall we say.
-- Vienna is still the best. Very pretty, very safe, very easy to navigate, and close to lots of other interesting places.
-- Interesting places can also be kind of scary, though. When you don't speak the language, can't find your train, and there are live goats in the train station, it can feel as though you are entering into a Taken scenario.
-- Vail is fun. Even in the offseason. This may well depend on having good friends, ample vodka, and a surprising amount of junk food with you, though.
-- Kids these days. My law students never cease to amaze me with the basic life skills they lack in their mid twenties. Resolving your disputes over Airbnb accommodations is not really meant to be part of the job description.
-- Work is work. You can like what you do for a living, but it is still what you do for a living. Unless you're like, Jennifer Aniston, and then I'm sure every day is a fabulous dream.
-- Eating is like my favorite thing ever. I start thinking about each upcoming meal pretty much immediately following the last meal. I'm thinking about it now, actually.
-- Something will always be broken. As soon as I replace a light bulb, the cable goes out or the garbage disposal stops working. If I ever get that discolored patch of carpet replaced, I'm pretty sure the roof will cave in.
-- True friends don't care how lame you are. Go ahead and get so drunk you start crying at Soho House for no real reason; they'll laugh about it with you later.
Here's hoping for many more key learnings in 2019!
Sunday, December 23, 2018
Holiday Message 2018
I turned forty this year, which was (1) likely a fatal blow to my ambitions of making Forty Amateur Acupuncturists Under Forty, (2) mounting proof that I do not in fact suffer from Benjamin Button Syndrome, and (3) perfectly fine and nice and exhausting in the way most birthdays are after the age where you can get away with ingesting your weight in Pixie Stix and vomiting in a bounce house, which I am told is thirty-five. The most notable thing about turning forty was that it was not really particularly notable; waking up at forty and half-watching a Frasier rerun on the COSI network whilst I Sonicared and was yet again surprised by the fact that I forgot to buy Q-tips felt very much like falling asleep while trying to catch up on roughly thirty-seven months of unread New Yorkers (say, this Brexit thing could be crazy, right?) at thirty-nine. I guess we see the signposts pass on the freeway of life, but we rarely make the time to stop and check them out, unless they direct us to the world’s biggest ball of paint or a super sweet Applebee’s or something.
But now that I am sort of indisputably an adult (lots of thirty-nine year olds still let their mothers argue with the gas company for them, right?), I have found myself thinking more about what people of my age are “supposed” to do, unfortunately. Should a grown man be portraying a rat in a legally-themed musical comedy show? Is it okay for someone on the verge of a pill minder and an early bird special to also be sharing a vacation house with sixteen people, some of whom are friends of friends who talk a concerning amount about unusual experiences they have had inhaling ordinary household products? And what about holiday messages? Isn’t there some sort of statute of limitations after which word vomiting about your life and whichever celebrity most colorfully hit rock bottom that year (we’re not allowed to say Demi Lovato because things got real real there), and posting it for the world to see shifts from thoughtful and arguably interesting to sad and kind of desperate?
Well, I guess let’s hope not, because here we are. Or rather, here I am; you’re probably off spearfishing with Meghan Markle on Jay-Z’s private island and getting answers to all of your burning questions about the set of Suits while I slave away. But ultimately I decided that the holiday messages were harmless even if potentially age inappropriate, sort of like Madonna. And besides, what else am I going to do with all my spare time? Find out what Jan Hetfleisch, my German Club pen pal, has been up to since the seventh grade? Actually, I just googled him and he’s like some kind of war photographer, but I totally put like three pennies in the “have a penny, need a penny” tray at 7-11 the other day, so I don’t know what he’s bragging about.
Anyway, happy holidays! I hope this message finds you well, and I really mean that, as I tend to handle bad news with the emotional maturity of Paula Abdul after three horse tranquilizers. My big event for the year was definitely the birth of my niece, Maggie, who may well be the most easygoing baby of all time, although I’m disappointed by her inability (or unwillingness) to comically foil bumbling criminals while avoiding construction mishaps a la the 1994 classic Baby’s Day Out. Ian and I also made a return visit to Vienna, where everything looks beautiful but no one can sell you an Imodium, took a side trip to Bratislava, where I swear to God there were live chickens in the train station, and went to Vail, the home of $20,000 sweaters and people high enough to potentially buy them. I’ve continued to work in the white collar group at Seyfarth Shaw LLP, which is exactly like the hit USA television series White Collar, except that I’ve actually seen it. And we’re still living in Old Town, a neighborhood that offers residents quaint, tree-lined streets without having to give up the urban thrill of knowing that someday, somewhere, a random stranger may still try to spit in your mouth.
So this is me at forty. I’m probably attending fewer yacht parties than I’d prefer, but mostly I’m just happy to be here wishing you a great 2019.
I turned forty this year, which was (1) likely a fatal blow to my ambitions of making Forty Amateur Acupuncturists Under Forty, (2) mounting proof that I do not in fact suffer from Benjamin Button Syndrome, and (3) perfectly fine and nice and exhausting in the way most birthdays are after the age where you can get away with ingesting your weight in Pixie Stix and vomiting in a bounce house, which I am told is thirty-five. The most notable thing about turning forty was that it was not really particularly notable; waking up at forty and half-watching a Frasier rerun on the COSI network whilst I Sonicared and was yet again surprised by the fact that I forgot to buy Q-tips felt very much like falling asleep while trying to catch up on roughly thirty-seven months of unread New Yorkers (say, this Brexit thing could be crazy, right?) at thirty-nine. I guess we see the signposts pass on the freeway of life, but we rarely make the time to stop and check them out, unless they direct us to the world’s biggest ball of paint or a super sweet Applebee’s or something.
But now that I am sort of indisputably an adult (lots of thirty-nine year olds still let their mothers argue with the gas company for them, right?), I have found myself thinking more about what people of my age are “supposed” to do, unfortunately. Should a grown man be portraying a rat in a legally-themed musical comedy show? Is it okay for someone on the verge of a pill minder and an early bird special to also be sharing a vacation house with sixteen people, some of whom are friends of friends who talk a concerning amount about unusual experiences they have had inhaling ordinary household products? And what about holiday messages? Isn’t there some sort of statute of limitations after which word vomiting about your life and whichever celebrity most colorfully hit rock bottom that year (we’re not allowed to say Demi Lovato because things got real real there), and posting it for the world to see shifts from thoughtful and arguably interesting to sad and kind of desperate?
Well, I guess let’s hope not, because here we are. Or rather, here I am; you’re probably off spearfishing with Meghan Markle on Jay-Z’s private island and getting answers to all of your burning questions about the set of Suits while I slave away. But ultimately I decided that the holiday messages were harmless even if potentially age inappropriate, sort of like Madonna. And besides, what else am I going to do with all my spare time? Find out what Jan Hetfleisch, my German Club pen pal, has been up to since the seventh grade? Actually, I just googled him and he’s like some kind of war photographer, but I totally put like three pennies in the “have a penny, need a penny” tray at 7-11 the other day, so I don’t know what he’s bragging about.
Anyway, happy holidays! I hope this message finds you well, and I really mean that, as I tend to handle bad news with the emotional maturity of Paula Abdul after three horse tranquilizers. My big event for the year was definitely the birth of my niece, Maggie, who may well be the most easygoing baby of all time, although I’m disappointed by her inability (or unwillingness) to comically foil bumbling criminals while avoiding construction mishaps a la the 1994 classic Baby’s Day Out. Ian and I also made a return visit to Vienna, where everything looks beautiful but no one can sell you an Imodium, took a side trip to Bratislava, where I swear to God there were live chickens in the train station, and went to Vail, the home of $20,000 sweaters and people high enough to potentially buy them. I’ve continued to work in the white collar group at Seyfarth Shaw LLP, which is exactly like the hit USA television series White Collar, except that I’ve actually seen it. And we’re still living in Old Town, a neighborhood that offers residents quaint, tree-lined streets without having to give up the urban thrill of knowing that someday, somewhere, a random stranger may still try to spit in your mouth.
So this is me at forty. I’m probably attending fewer yacht parties than I’d prefer, but mostly I’m just happy to be here wishing you a great 2019.
Sunday, December 16, 2018
A Wassailing
Some friends and I sang Christmas carols at a children's dental office for cash this past Friday.
I realize that is a sentence that requires a bit of unpacking. So, first of all, the dental office performs work on children; it is not run by children, although that would be adorable (if likely painful). Second, we did not keep the cash, but rather donated it, as we would otherwise feel like we were literally taking candy from babies. Third, these were some of my musical lawyer friends; I have not transferred to the high school from Fame. One of these friends knows someone there and got asked if she could put something together. And so we did!
In truth, the preparations were shockingly elaborate. We had two rehearsals, full on caroling books, and a giant portable keyboard we hauled to the office with us. We also coordinated our outfits to be Christmassy, although my suggestion that we all dress in Victorian garb was roundly ignored, most tragically. I wore a corset under my sweater, just out of spite.
It was actually super fun and kind of great, I have to say! It's nice to have creative friends and do things that make people happy, although they may just have been lying to us. I mean, how much can people really want to hear three versus of Good King Wenceslas?
Some friends and I sang Christmas carols at a children's dental office for cash this past Friday.
I realize that is a sentence that requires a bit of unpacking. So, first of all, the dental office performs work on children; it is not run by children, although that would be adorable (if likely painful). Second, we did not keep the cash, but rather donated it, as we would otherwise feel like we were literally taking candy from babies. Third, these were some of my musical lawyer friends; I have not transferred to the high school from Fame. One of these friends knows someone there and got asked if she could put something together. And so we did!
In truth, the preparations were shockingly elaborate. We had two rehearsals, full on caroling books, and a giant portable keyboard we hauled to the office with us. We also coordinated our outfits to be Christmassy, although my suggestion that we all dress in Victorian garb was roundly ignored, most tragically. I wore a corset under my sweater, just out of spite.
It was actually super fun and kind of great, I have to say! It's nice to have creative friends and do things that make people happy, although they may just have been lying to us. I mean, how much can people really want to hear three versus of Good King Wenceslas?
Saturday, December 08, 2018
Then Three Weeks Went By...
There has been a lot going on! Thanksgiving definitely happened, for one thing. My mom was here, we took the family to a buffet where I accidentally got the gross mac and cheese with lobster in it as opposed to the good regular kind, we watched a documentary about Jane Fonda (do I know demographics or what?), we went to church what seemed like six times but was really only two. Oh, and we watched the Chicago parade, which is sort of sad and lovable, in the sense of having balloons they somehow fail to inflate all the way and local dance troupes in drop-crotch Grinch pants. Obviously, a magical holiday all around.
I also had my amateur theatrical for lawyers! This year I played Mark Zuckerberg, Rudy Giuliani, and a rat, so obviously it was type casting. It was a roller coaster of emotions, from loudly declaiming that I was going to walk out and never return to quietly realizing that I had no desire to go home and sleep even though it was 4 AM and I'd been dancing in a basement with these people for hours straight. A lot of wigs were worn, shots consumed, and Top 40 hits parodied badly. I may never recover.
So now I'm just trying to sort of slip back into normal life, like the kind where I don't work from home on a Tuesday so I can help my mom figure out how to use Facetime during my lunch break or leave early so I can help glue rat ears together. It's a world of many a wonder.
There has been a lot going on! Thanksgiving definitely happened, for one thing. My mom was here, we took the family to a buffet where I accidentally got the gross mac and cheese with lobster in it as opposed to the good regular kind, we watched a documentary about Jane Fonda (do I know demographics or what?), we went to church what seemed like six times but was really only two. Oh, and we watched the Chicago parade, which is sort of sad and lovable, in the sense of having balloons they somehow fail to inflate all the way and local dance troupes in drop-crotch Grinch pants. Obviously, a magical holiday all around.
I also had my amateur theatrical for lawyers! This year I played Mark Zuckerberg, Rudy Giuliani, and a rat, so obviously it was type casting. It was a roller coaster of emotions, from loudly declaiming that I was going to walk out and never return to quietly realizing that I had no desire to go home and sleep even though it was 4 AM and I'd been dancing in a basement with these people for hours straight. A lot of wigs were worn, shots consumed, and Top 40 hits parodied badly. I may never recover.
So now I'm just trying to sort of slip back into normal life, like the kind where I don't work from home on a Tuesday so I can help my mom figure out how to use Facetime during my lunch break or leave early so I can help glue rat ears together. It's a world of many a wonder.
