This weekend, I vow to:

* NOT get sick (I've been sucking on zinc tablets and drinking vitamin water all morning, after waking up with some throat/gland issues)
* Spend quality time with the Boo-Boo Kitty
* Attend Saturday's scheduled fitness clinic at the gym, despite STILL being sore from Tuesday's class
* Relax at the pool (weather permitting)
* Sleep at least eight hours each night
* Enjoy my last weekend with Jason before he heads to London for a month
* Call a few long-lost friends
* Pray that El Presidente decides to declare Monday a government holiday

Since I've been staring at Excel spreadsheets all day (while simultaneously trying to decide if I'm achy because I'm getting sick OR because I'm a big baby and I'm still in pain from "Chisel"), this is about my limit for Friday creativity. Sorry! :-)

Please have a safe and happy Fourth of July--and to all of you who don't have to go to work on Monday, THHHHBBBFFFT!

Rockin' the suburbs.

Last night, I went to see Ben Folds with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra at Merriweather Pavillion in Bumblefuck--I mean, Columbia--Maryland. I won’t go into detail about the nasty weather, the roundabout route we took (which, coincidentally, took us right past my godparents' house), and the tardy carpoolers who caused us to be late and miss half of the show. Instead, I’ll talk about why this concert was good in theory and bad in practice.

1) First and most importantly, Ben is a very strong performer on his own. He doesn’t need the BSO behind him to put on a great show. Yes, there were a few songs that sounded good with the orchestral background, but the combination mostly caused acoustical problems—sometimes the orchestra would drown Ben out, and sometimes Ben would drown the orchestra out (more often the latter).

2) An outdoor venue is usually a bad idea for a symphony orchestra, especially in the middle of the summer. The sound doesn’t travel as well, and it is extremely difficult for the instruments (especially of the string variety) to stay properly tuned when it is so humid.

3) From what I’ve seen at previous Ben Folds shows, he is very receptive to audience suggestions. If enough people want him to play something that’s not on the set list, he’ll play it. However, an accompanying orchestra can only learn and rehearse a finite (and relatively small) number of tunes. Even though I think the songs were well-chosen for the circumstances, it was frustrating to have such a rigid lineup of numbers (though Ben did make a funny joke about the orchestra members not being used to screaming and heckling from the audience).

Despite all of the setbacks, what we saw of the concert was good, and I even knew a few songs (though I’ve been to multiple Ben Folds shows, I can’t say that I’m as devoted a fan as my cohorts).

I saw on the will call window that Sugarland will be coming to Merriweather on August 22nd. Does anyone want to go? I think it would be fun—sitting on the lawn, drinking some beers, and listening to Jennifer Nettles (of whom I've been a fan since her Soul Miner's Daughter days)—but my fellow country fans are few and far between in DC. Velvet? EF? Are you game?

Last but not least, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to two of the hippest chicks in the blogosphere. See you tonight, bitches! :-)

Trying to avoid a cat-astrophe.

I don't know why I've waited so long to think about this, but I'm having a pet care situation.

I am going on vacation from July 7th through July 16th, and I need someone to watch my Boo baby (whose adorable face can be seen here and here).

He really is the cutest ever, and he LOVES people. He is very low-maintenance, as are most cats, since he doesn't need to be walked. All he requires is fresh food and water,* and a little bit of the sweet lovin'.

Does anyone know of a reputable pet-sitter for Boo? I really don't want to board him, but my sister and our boyfriends will be out of town during the same time frame, and most of my friends live way out in Maryland and Virginia (and I live in the U Street Corridor).

Boo thanks you very much for your suggestions!

* Even this requirement is negotiable, since Boo will happily drink out of my sister's toilet if she leaves the lid up.

Sweet Jesus on a cracker...

…it actually hurts to type.

This is my gym’s description of the class I took last night, called “Chisel”:

“Take sculpting to the next level! High-intensity weight training techniques that utilize dumbbells, body bars, resistance-tubing and steps. Abs included.”

Now, doesn’t that sound innocuous? Yes, it says that it’s “high-intensity,” but aren’t all forms of exercise intense? **crickets** Oh, just for me? Alrighty, then!

High-intensity doesn’t even begin to cover this class. I’ve never simply lifted weights for a solid hour, let alone lifted weights to music at a super-fast pace while the instructor yelled at me for not using proper push-up form.

To be fair, the instructor was really great. Yes, he would tease us with “breaks” only to move onto the next set of exercises after about two seconds of breathing time. Sure, he would add extra sets if we didn’t count down loudly enough. Yes, he walked around the room and got in our faces if we weren’t working hard enough. But, despite his somewhat gruff demeanor, it really seemed like he wanted to challenge his students to perform at their maximum capacity. It’s that kind of motivation that makes me want to come back and try to kick a little more ass with each class.

That, and he was pretty. :-)

So, even though my muscles are in spasms and it’s painful to move, I’m proud of myself and I’ll definitely be returning to “Chisel.”

As soon as I regain feeling in my arms.

Waiting on that olive branch...

Everyone knows the story of “the great flood.” In a nutshell, mankind became corrupt and violent, God got pissed, Noah built the ark, and the waters wiped out everything but the floating menagerie.

The biblical deluge is only one of a litany of flood myths. The Babylonian Epic of Gilgamesh, one of the most ancient known literary works, mentions a similar “great flood” by which the gods planned to destroy all life. There are also a great many Native American flood legends, as well as parallel tales in the Far East.

Nearly all of the flood myths seem to represent the need of a society to purge the evil and wickedness of its people. The water is a large-scale metaphorical cleansing of souls, and the survivor (usually not plural) symbolizes the virtue and goodness for which all should strive.

It was with this mindset that I pondered the non-stop downpour that has plagued our nation’s capital since last Thursday. Have Washingtonians become vicious and malevolent? Does some omnipotent being (or beings, if you prefer) want to wash us away and start over?

Let’s see here…in the District, we have rampant partisanism, shameless pandering, self-righteous moralizing, holier-than-thou attitudes, finger-pointing, selfishness, and scandal. Cyclists and pedestrians don’t have a chance. We’re nasty to tourists and to each other.

Hmmm. Can’t imagine why anyone/anything would want to flood DC right out of existence.

So, even though it may not be time (yet) for the two-by-two march, be careful out there—and watch out for your fellow Washingtonian. Y'know...it couldn't hurt.

My liver hates me.

Well, Velvet said it first, but I'll agree with her assessment: I am not 21 anymore, either. However, since my buddy John was in town for the weekend, I ignored that teensy tiny little insignificant detail and set out to take a couple of years off my life.

Things I learned this weekend:

* A Tequila Sunrise is an excellent breakfast.
* Ben's Chili Bowl is damn impressive, even to a New Yorker.
* With few exceptions, DC girls are bitches.
* With even fewer exceptions, DC guys are douchebags (for one notable example, see Mr. Anthrope's most recent post).
* Impressionist art is way more interesting after a few beers.
* Lauriol Plaza is way overrated.
* I am not wrong for avoiding Adams Morgan during the weekend.
* DC needs more 24-hour establishments.

And, most importantly, I really miss my non-DC friends! I wish more of them would suck it up and come visit our nation's capital. Yes, it has its flaws, but it really can be fun if you have the right mindset (and the right tour guide).

This week is going to be crazy--full of concerts, birthday/engagement celebrations, and other such festivities--so I took a sick day today to clear my head and get ready for the madness. Hopefully, such a full week will result in some good blog fodder.

Have a great one, everybody!

When past and present collide--a discussion of exes.

One of the most oft-discussed topics in the field of dating is exes. Do we want to remain friends with them? Is it wise? Is it even possible? How do we do it?

The topic of exes is especially challenging when you are in a subsequent relationship. A mature adult should recognize that very few individuals are blank slates. Chances are, you are not your partner’s first significant other, and, most likely, you won’t be their last. So, keeping in mind that nearly everyone has a dating past, how much interaction should you have with your ex?

Of course, a great deal of this depends on your current partner’s comfort level. It is completely reasonable that your significant other would feel weird or awkward at the thought of you buddying up with your ex. But where does “reasonable” end and “oppressively jealous” begin?

It has been suggested to me that the type of relationship one had with their ex (when they were together, that is) is significant when determining what kind of post-breakup contact is appropriate. In other words, status before relationship, exclusivity of parties, length and classification of relationship, reason for split, and other miscellaneous factors may play a role in determining the extent interaction that should be allowed, sans freak-out, after the fact.

By way of example—and purely that—here are two situations to ponder.

Scenario One: Boy and Girl are good friends, and they also have many mutual friends. Boy and Girl start dating. After a number of months (which were exclusive), Boy and Girl break up amicably. Boy is currently single, and Girl is in a serious, committed relationship. Boy wants to visit Girl and some of their mutual friends, and Girl offers for him to crash on her couch.

Scenario Two: Boy and Girl are good friends, and they also have many mutual friends. Boy and Girl have sex one night, with no expectation of a relationship to follow. Boy and Girl remain friends. Boy is currently single, and Girl is in a serious, committed relationship. Boy wants to visit Girl and some of their mutual friends, and Girl offers for him to crash on her couch.

So, the major difference between these two situations is that one involved a relationship, while the other involved a single physical encounter. Which one should cause Girl’s current significant other more heartburn?

Well, my answer is neither, since Girl’s partner should trust her and know that there is nothing to worry about. But, then again, I am a big advocate of remaining cordial (if not outright friendly) with exes, so I appreciate that my response may represent the minority view.

So, what say you? Are you friends with any of your exes? How do you feel about the two fact patterns above?

And…go!

I'm tired, y'all...

...of being teased about my accent.

Sure, I use some Southern diction ("y'all" being the most obvious and frequent, the proper use of which can be found here). Yes, I sometimes let a "fixin' to" slip out of my mouth. On the rarest of occasions, usually after drinking heavily, I might spit out an impassioned "Hush yo' mouth!"

But does my use of those words and sayings give you the right to make fun of me and doubt my intelligence? If you think the answer is yes, you're barkin' up the wrong tree.

I don't know when, how, or why exactly the Southern accent came to be associated with ignorance and stupidity. Many of this country's greatest minds--Martin Luther King, Jr., Clarence Thomas, James Agee, Harper Lee, Tennessee Williams, Maya Angelou, Booker T. Washington, and a whole mess of U.S. presidents and politicians—came from the South, as did scores of famous thespians and musicians. And yours truly. Duh.

In any case, why is a Southern accent any worse than a New York accent? A Boston accent? A Midwestern accent? Just because I prefer “nekkid” to “naked” (probably a bad example, since these two words have very distinct definitions in the Southern lexicon) doesn’t mean that you’re better or smarter or more cultured than I am. Plus, it would be rather dull if we all sounded alike. Our many dialectic differences help to make America unique and interesting.

I don’t make fun of you when you say “pop.” Don’t get in my face if, when asking for a piece of pecan pie, I place the emphasis on the first syllable.

Heed my advice…or this here Southern belle might have to give you a good old fashioned whoopin’…

Y'all come back now, y'hear? :-)

Back to the gym.

Well, I paid my last dues to Bally today, and even though I have access through September 9th, I probably won't ever set foot in there again. It's not really as bad as "good riddance," but I'm not sad either--the gym here in DC wasn't nearly as nice as the one in Knoxville, making it difficult for me to gather the motivation to go there more than occasionally.

So, I'm entertaining the idea of joining a gym closer to my home, which would exponentially increase the probability that I'll actually go. Right now, it seems like my options are Results and Mint. I understand that Results is rather expensive (though all gyms are costly when compared with my $29/month Bally membership), but what about Mint?

Mint's location is excellent--a mere two blocks from my apartment--and they're open early, late, and on the weekends. Their website certainly makes their amenities sound attractive:

• Top quality resistance equipment from Cybex Eagle, Free Motion, LifeFitness Signature, Hammer Strength and more.
• Extensive cardio lineup including LifeFitness treadmills, cycles, cross-trainers, and Cybex full body ARC trainers.
• A group exercise program with specialty classes such Yoga, Pilates, Dance, Sculpting, and Cycling.
• Private Training included with membership — all MINT trainers hold degrees in the field and advanced personal training certifications.
• Nutritional Counseling included with our on-staff Registered Dietician.
• Rejuvenate in our Lounge with a fresh fruit smoothie or healthy sandwich.
• Our Spa offering massage, aromatherapy, reflexology, hot stone therapy, acupuncture and more. Opening soon!

Our members will also appreciate state-of-the-art conveniences including key-free electronic-access lockers, individual television monitors, free Wi-Fi, bike racks, and filtered water available throughout the Club.

I'm pleased with their group exercise options, and I'm thrilled at the idea of personal training and nutritional consultation. I'm no dummy, though--I know that perks like that don't come cheap.

So, what's the scoop? Does anyone belong to Mint? How much do they charge you? How do you like the facilities and the folks who work there? Any input will be greatly appreciated. Thanks!

Weekend Recap: Trying New Things Edition

Well, this weekend didn’t involve hallucinogenic drugs or sexual experimentation.* However, I did try at least one new thing per day, and they all turned out pretty well.

On Friday night, sis and I decided to bite the bullet and try some take-out from our new neighborhood. You see, we were quite spoiled in Bethesda, as Foong Lin always delivered yummy Chinese goodness in record time (they’d always tell us it would be 45-50 minutes and then show up at our doorstep about 15 minutes later).

I had heard good things about Mr. Chen’s, and the fact that it offered online ordering AND used organic vegetables made it the most obvious choice. Jeanette and I hovered over the computer, dazzled by the large menu and relative cheapness of the options (for example, my General Tso chicken, complete with hot and sour soup and a spring roll, was only $7.99). After we ordered, it only took about 30 minutes for the food to arrive, and it was quite tasty. All in all, I’d say we were satisfied, and we’ll definitely be return customers (gotta have the “Jewish Junk Food,” after all).

On Saturday, due to the fact that it was hot as Hades outside, sis and I moseyed over to the public pool to check it out, take a dip, and catch some rays. Again, we were quite spoiled in Bethesda, as our apartment complex had two swimming pools on the grounds.

We chose the Francis pool at 25th and N, which was quite crowded. There were no empty chairs (regular or lounge), and a boatload of small children, so we settled for rolling out our towels on the concrete toward the deep end of the water. While it was a little uncomfortable to sun ourselves in such a manner, the pool was crisp, cool, and relatively clean, and it felt good to be outside soaking up the endorphins. My only big complaint? Oh, dear lord, the Speedos. VERY few men can pull off a Speedo, and I didn’t see too many of those men at the pool. One piece of advice: if you MUST wear such a clingy suit, PLEASE, for the love of Mike, make sure that the color/fabric is not translucent.

On Sunday, after spending a great deal of time and money at the local Whole Foods, I tried a new recipe: potato-zucchini skillet pancakes with cherry tomato salad (recipe below, from Cooking Light magazine). I substituted cornmeal for matzo meal (couldn’t find the latter, go figure), but it didn’t seem to make much of a difference. I also removed the olives from the tomato salad. The pancakes were quite good, but very rich—next time, I think I’ll prepare them as a meatless main dish as opposed to a side item. To accompany the cakes, I sautéed some chicken in lemon and rosemary, and I boiled some fresh green beans, and all of the flavors worked really well together. Enjoy!

Pancakes:

3 cups shredded peeled Yukon gold potato (about 1 pound)
2 cups shredded zucchini (about 8 ounces)
1 cup shredded onion (about 1 small)
1/2 cup egg substitute
1/4 cup matzo meal
1/4 teaspoon salt
Dash of freshly ground black pepper
4 teaspoons canola oil, divided

Salad:
3 cups quartered cherry tomatoes
2 tablespoons chopped pitted kalamata olives
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
1 teaspoon extravirgin olive oil
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

To prepare pancakes, place potatoes, zucchini, and onion in a clean kitchen towel, and squeeze out excess liquid. Combine potato mixture, egg substitute, matzo meal, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and dash of pepper in a large bowl, and stir gently to blend. Heat 1 teaspoon canola oil in a nonstick griddle or large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Spoon about 1 cup potato mixture onto hot pan, spreading to a 6-inch diameter. Cook 3 minutes on each side or until lightly browned and cooked through. Transfer to a plate; keep warm. Repeat procedure with the remaining 3 teaspoons oil and remaining potato mixture. To prepare salad, combine tomatoes and remaining ingredients in a medium bowl; toss gently. Serve salad on top of pancakes.

Yield: 4 servings (serving size: 1 pancake and about 3/4 cup salad)
NUTRITION PER SERVING: CALORIES 242 (31% from fat); FAT 8.4g (sat 0.8g, mono 5.2g, poly 1.9g); PROTEIN 8.3g; CHOLESTEROL 0.0mg; CALCIUM 35mg; SODIUM 504mg; FIBER 3.8g; IRON 2.7mg; CARBOHYDRATE 34.6g

Mmmm...yummy...

* Due to some confusion, I feel that I must clarify that my weekends don't normally include such goings-on. I was merely pointing out that it would probably make much more interesting blog fodder than Chinese take-out and other culinary adventures. Can't be too careful in this nasty little DC blogosphere, it seems...

Because it's Friday, and I'm lazy.

Here's something that was passed along to me (but not written) by Mr. Barzelay--it contains some VERY broad generalizations, and the spelling and grammar often leave something to be desired (and per the title of this post, I'm not feeling industrious enough to correct it), but I thought it was worth reading and pondering. Happy weekend, everyone!

Why Geeks & Nerds Are Worth It

In the wide world of dating, there are many options. Do you go for the flashy guy with the smooth smile, or the dude in the corner typing away on his laptop? The following are reasons why I think my fellow females should pay more attention to the quiet geeks and nerds, and less attention to the flashy boys.

1.) While geeks and nerds may be awkward, they're well-meaning 9 out of 10 times. That smooth dude with the sly grin and the spider hands? Wonder what HIS intentions are... plus, I've never had a geek guy not call me when he said he would. Score major points THERE.

2.) They're useful. In this tech-savvy world, it's great to have a b/f who can make your laptop, desktop, and just about anything else that plugs into a wall behave itself.

3.) They're more romantic than they're given credit for. Ok true, their idea of romance might be to make up a spiffy web-page with all the reasons why they love you, with links to pics of you and sonnets and such... but hey. It lasts longer than flowers, plus you can show your friends.

4.) Due to their neglected status, there are plenty to choose from. You like em tall and slender? There are plenty of geeks/nerds who are. You like em smaller with more meat on their bones? Got that too.

5.) They've got brains. Come on now, how can intelligence be a bad thing?

6.) Most are quite good at remembering dates. Like birthdates and such, especially if they know it'll make you happy. Due again to their neglected status, they're more attentive than guys who have more options. Plus, with all that down time without a steady girlfriend, they'll likely have mental lists of all the things they'd love to do once they GOT a girlfriend.

7.) Sex. Yep. Sex. I'm not really familiar with this myself, but I've friends who've been intimate with geek guys and its raves all around. They say a virgin wrote the Kama Sutra... all that time thinking about sex, imagining sex, dreaming about sex, (they are male after all) coupled with a desire to make you happy? Use your imagination.

8.) They're relatively low-maintenance. Most can be fueled on pizza, Twinkies and Mt Dew. No complicated dinners needed here, so if youre not the best cook, eh. Can you order a pizza?

9.) Most frequent bars as often as slugs frequent salt mines. You won't have to worry much about your geek guy getting his groove on with club hotties because, frankly, he'll be too busy rooting around under his computer wondering where that spare cable went. You wont have to worry about him flirting with other women because, 9 out of 10 times, he'll zip right by them in a perfect b-line towards the nearest electronics store. I've seen this happen.

Me: Eww. Victoria Secrets Models... They're so skinny. How is that feminine? You can see her ribs!
Geek Guy: ooooooo...
Me: Hey! *notices he is staring lustfully towards the computer store*
Geek Guy: What?
Me: Never mind...

10.) Although he may not want to go to every outing with you, you can arrange swaps, as in, you'll go to his Gamer Con dressed as an elf princess if he'll take you to the ballet. Plus, if he doesnt want to go someplace with you, you won't have to worry much about what hes up to. You'll probably come home to find him asleep on his keyboard in a sea of Mt. Dew cans with code blinking from the screen. It's ok. He's used to this. Just toss a blanket over him and turn out the light.

11.) His friends arent jerks. I can't stress this enough. You'll more likely get Omg! A GIRL!! Can I see?! than Hey hot stuff back that ass up here and let me get some grub on... They're awkward geeks too and will, 9 times out of 10, treat you with the utmost respect and, more than likely, a note of awe. A cute girl picked one of their clan to date? It could happen to them! Hope! Drag some of your single girlfriends over, open up a pack of Mt. Dew, crack open the DnD set and get working. Nothing impresses geek guys more than a girl who can hack-n-slash (well ok maybe if she can code... a geek can dream).

12.) They're rarely if ever possessive. They trust you, so you can be yourself around them. You like to walk around the house in a ratty t-shirt for comfort? He wont care. He does too! They won't get pissy if you dont wear make-up or don't want to bother primping your hair. If you gain a few pounds, they wont try their best to make you feel like crap.

13.) They're usually very well educated. Physics majors and the like. See number 5. You won't have to listen to him blathering on about his car (ok maybe a little), he'll have loads of other interesting things to talk about. Politics, world events, how much the chicken burgers down at the local place rock, so long as you douse them in hot sauce...

14.) You'll almost never have to hear, Yaw dawg whazzap!! plop out of their mouths. Unless its in jest. They spell properly, use correct punctuation, and are able to tell the difference between the toilet and the floor. They almost never get wasted, so you wont have to worry about coming home to find him and his friends passed out on the floor amidst a pile of beer bottles. Mt. Dew cans, perhaps...

15.) And the final reason why geeks and nerds make great boyfriends: They actually give a damn about you. Not how you look (though thats a plus), not how skinny you are, not how much make-up you primp yourself up with, but they like you for you. That kind of thing lasts longer than DaMN baby you got a fine ass!!! Believe me.

"Money talks...but all mine ever says is good-bye." ~Anonymous

Last night, over a few hoppy beverages, I discovered that a lawyer friend of mine will be making just under $200,000 (salary and bonuses) next year. In terms of age, he’s in the 25-30 bracket, as am I. While I was attempting to calculate what percentage of that figure my paltry salary represents, my friend told me that his employer is looking for attorneys and that I should apply.

I said thanks, but no thanks.

I’ve had this discussion many, many times. It seems incomprehensible to people that, as a (now-licensed) lawyer, I am making less than $50,000 per year. They wonder why I don’t re-enter the job market and find something where my paychecks would better represent what I’m worth.

Sure, I would love to make more money—who wouldn’t? I agree that I’m worth more than what I get paid, though I think that would be true no matter what the net number was (I generally find money to be a de-motivator). I would love to be able to take luxurious vacations and eat out every night and hold season tickets to the symphony/opera/Nationals and buy Coach bags whenever the whim strikes me (which, consequently, is often).

However, as I explain to the many individuals who engage me in this conversation: “My mama didn’t raise no quitter.”

My family has always been a big fan of commitment. When we agree to do something, we do it, even if we don’t want to or something better comes along.

About a year and a half ago, when I was unemployed and panicking, I secured a prestigious (in reputation, not immediate earning power) fellowship. Not long afterward, the director of my division made a commitment to me. He offered me a job with ample opportunities for training and development, the potential for upward mobility, and an honorable and important mission. In addition, he was so excited about bringing me on board that he offered me relocation expenses and student loan repayment. When I saw the kind of commitment he was offering, I made one right back. I committed to use my knowledge and skills for the betterment of the organization. I committed to work for the duration of my fellowship (two years, of which I have finished one) and one additional year for every year of loan repayment I accepted (so far one, but it will probably end up being two).

Like in every contract, there are ways to get out of my obligations. I would have to reimburse the department for the student loan repayment, which wouldn’t be a problem with a six-figure salary. I would be unable to complete my fellowship, which I might be able to overlook if I had a window office and a personal assistant.

Still, no amount of money would be able to wash away the guilt and shame I would feel if I prematurely ducked out of my responsibilities. It’s one thing to look for a new job after putting in some quality time and thoroughly analyzing the pros and cons. It’s entirely a different matter to quit hastily for the dollars and cents, without fully understanding what you may be giving up. Plus, my director put a great deal of faith in my education, my experience, and, well, ME—and I owe it to him, to the division, and to myself to see things through and find out whether this is just a job or a lifelong career of dedication and service.

So, at least for now, I’ll take my measly paychecks. I’ll take my precious few vacation days. I’ll definitely take my 40-hour work week. Most of all, I’ll take the gratification that stems from following through on a commitment.

Aw…mama would be so proud. :-)

Guest post.

Oy. That's all I have to say about today.

Since I am buried in work and facing a rather ominous deadline, I am treating you to a guest post from the late, great Lewis Grizzard.

I've posted his columns before, and I hope you enjoy this one as much as I do.

Lizards Need Love, Too

It's been over 20 years ago, but I've never forgotten the pretty, blond girl who sat next to me in a class I had at the University of Georgia.

She was gorgeous. She had lovely hair and lovely eyes.

She wore lovely sweaters. The only days I didn't notice her lovely hair and her lovely eyes were the days she wore her lovely sweaters.

I wanted to speak to her, to ask her out. I wanted to take her to the Alps Road Drive-In Theatre in my 1958 red and white Chevrolet.

"Lovely sweater you are wearing this evening, my dear," I would say, looking deeply into her lovely eyes, stroking her lovely hair.

She would grab me as her passion soared out of control and we would spend the entire double feature kissing squarely upon one another's mouth, which is about as far as passion was allowed to soar back then.

But I was shy. I never asked her out, not to the Alps Road Drive-In Theatre, not even to the Varsity for a double steak sandwich with extra onions and pickles.

I tried my best to speak to her, but nothing would come out. I wanted to whisper to her in class, "Lovely sweater you're wearing today, my dear,'' but it always hung there in my throat, causing me to cough on her.

I wrote love poems to her and sonnets and even a dirty limerick in a wild, lustful moment. But I never showed them to her. I figured if I did, she would call campus security.

I suppose the real reason I never made any sort of move on the girl of my boyish dreams, however, was that I was realistic.

I was no day at the beach when I was in college, if you know what I mean. The term for individuals such as me in those days was "lizard."

I had short hair and big ears. I wore glasses. I had a large pimple on my nose that struck when I was a sophomore in high school. It didn't go away until I had been married a year and my wife made me go to the doctor and have it surgically removed.

My pants always seemed to be too short when I was in college. That would have come in handy had there been campus floods, I suppose, but all it really managed to do was expose the fact I hadn't yet gotten the word white socks were out.

I never asked out the pretty, blond girl who sat next to me because I was a lizard, and I knew it, and I figured she did, too.

But the point of all this: While I was in the hospital recently I received a get-well card from this very same girl, now a grown-up woman.

She said some very sweet things in the card. She said she enjoyed reading what I write. She even said she remembered sitting next to me in class. I never thought she even knew I was alive.

I was happy to get the card even though it was 20 years too late. But I also felt a certain amount of remorse. Dang my hesitancy. Dang my timidity. Dang my big ears.

I won't allow it to go any further than the card, of course. She's probably married with kids, and they tore down the Alps Road Drive-In Theatre anyway.

But let this be a lesson to the young and foolish. Give in to the mad rushes of love! Never hold back when you are filled with the magic of romance! If nothing else works, try a tube of Clearasil!

Lizards need love, too. Take it from one who has been there.

I'm not a girl, not yet a lawyer.

Tomorrow, I will be sworn into the Maryland bar. It certainly has been a long journey…

In the fall of 2002, I started law school in Tennessee. I was fresh out of undergrad (with my oh-so-useful English major in hand), full of enthusiasm, and infinitely naïve. I wanted to be an entertainment lawyer. That is, until I learned that a) entertainment lawyers are basically glorified agents, b) agents need to have a firm grasp of contract law principles, and c) contract law is hard.

So, my career path diverged a bit. I specialized in transactional law (tax and securities, to be more specific), knowing full well that the litigation life was not for me. I learned very quickly that, even in the twenty-first century, a female business lawyer is not always looked upon with the same respect as her male colleagues.

As my academic life came to a close, I explored a number of career options. Student affairs, grassroots lobbying, and government work all appealed to me. I ended up choosing the latter. As it turns out, I don’t really have to be a lawyer to do my job. It helps, but it’s certainly not necessary.

So, with no desire to enter private practice or work for the DOJ, why all the fuss over the bar exam? Why take it two agonizing times? Why stress so much over being a “real” attorney? Why get so excited about the pomp and circumstance of the swearing-in ceremony?

Validation, my friends. Validation, pure and simple.

Tomorrow’s ceremony, practically speaking, doesn’t mean a thing. It won’t increase my salary, and it won’t earn me more respect at the office (save for from a few other attorneys who know how hard I’ve worked to get to this point). It won’t make me more attractive to the opposite sex. It won’t make my life any better—or really any different—than it is today.

What it will do, though, is prove—to myself more than anyone else—that the past (nearly) four years have been leading up to something. Maybe not something big and important and life-altering, but something that I set out to do and actually managed to accomplish in the end.

It’s been a long, strange trip from B.A. to J.D. to Esq., but it’s finally over. After tomorrow, I can start working on my next journey—and I can’t wait to see where it leads.

It really CAN be a happy (couple of) hour(s)!

This Friday, Eyebar will once again serve as the scene for a blogger happy hour. Kathryn and RCR are the gracious hosts, and it promises—as always—to be a great time.

Lately, though, I have sensed a lot of consternation from various DC bloggers in regards to these events. As a frequent attendee (I believe I’ve only missed one since my first visit last October), such feelings concern me.

There are many potential reasons (besides another engagement) why bloggers wouldn’t want to come to a happy hour just for them. Perhaps they are nervous about not knowing anyone, or about what it’s like to meet other internet personalities live and in the flesh. That kind of anxiety is totally normal (in fact, I’ve already written about it), but it shouldn’t prohibit someone from joining in the fun. For the most part, the folks at these events are the friendly, welcoming kind. Chances are, by the time you finish your first cocktail, you’ll feel right at home!

Unfortunately, I don’t think nervousness is the primary reason for the attendance issues. In fact, tons of “new” bloggers have appeared at recent events, while a large number of veterans have shied away from the larger social scene (preferring instead to meet in smaller, closer-knit groups). Why the change? Why would previous attendees decide to forego such a great opportunity to meet new people, drink, and be merry?

One word: DRAMA.

It is tempting to point fingers and blame certain individuals for the rise of drama in the blogosphere, but doing that is neither productive nor accurate. Drama is just like sex—it sells. People love to read a good flame war, and many find it amusing to jump on the bandwagon whenever they smell blood in the water. It’s human nature, and it’s here to stay.

That said, it’s true that “dramatic” (by whose definition, I’m not sure) events at past happy hours have made their way to the blogosphere the next day, complete with personal attacks, hurt feelings, and general feelings of hostility and side-taking. Does that suck? Yes, absolutely. Is that the norm? No, absolutely not.

At the core of these get-togethers is a group of people who truly care about the DC blogging community. We’re certainly not all “BFF,” but when we come together, fantastic things can happen. Friendships have been forged, partnerships have been born, and lives have been enriched. We’ve raised money for charity. Hell, some lucky folks have even managed to find true love at these events.

Please, don’t let intimidation or fear keep you from meeting a wonderful crew of bloggers. Come to Eyebar on Friday—you won’t regret it.

Hump day haikus.

I am so sleepy.
Those glasses of rioja
Were awfully full.

Lady bloggers rule.
Too bad the waiter at La
Tasca sucked hard core.

Okay, enough with the cruddy Japanese poetry. Thanks to all of the wonderful women who welcomed me into their happy hour fold last night! As always, it's fascinating to meet bloggers in person-some people are mirror images of their online persona, while others are as different as can be. In any case, I fell in love with all of you gals, and I hope we can get together again soon!

I really am sleepy, so that's all I've got for now. Coming soon: BettyJoan tries her "pitch" again, but this time without two heaping glasses of wine in her system! Curious? Stay tuned...

All the world's a stage...

The other night, my sister, who is an officer of the Georgetown Gilbert & Sullivan Society, was revealing to me some of the shows the organization is considering for next year’s season. One of the possibilities is “Anything Goes,” which was my ninth grade musical (and one of the greatest, most fun times of my adolescence). Very quickly, my mind took a trip down memory lane.

“Anything Goes” was my first real musical theater experience. Our choral director was a wonderful, crazy woman who wanted to produce a wonderful, crazy play. She hired a director, a choreographer, a costumer, the whole works—it really was a first-rate production. I auditioned for the role of Bonnie (the sexy, scantily-clad companion of a stowaway gangster), and I actually thought I had a chance of landing it, even though I was a scrawny, frizzy-haired freshman with braces. I was devastated when I found out that an older classmate had gotten the part, but when I found out that I would be playing an “Angel” (one of the sexy, scantily-clad sidekicks of the female leads), my disappointment dissolved into pure joy. I got to talk in a squeaky flapper voice, wear feathers, tap dance, and generally frolic suggestively. It was fantastic.

Our wonderful, crazy choral director left us that year, and we were left with a more conservative musical theater decision-maker. We produced “South Pacific” (in which I played a sexy, scantily-clad nurse) and “Hello, Dolly!” (in which I played a sexy-in-a-coquettish-type-way, scantily-clad-for-the-time-period “parasol girl”), both of which are predictable and solid (which, depending on your perspective, can be a good or a bad thing). To get some more edgy options, I even ventured into the drama department, which was trying its hand at the musical one-act, “Working” (in which I played the housewife).

Finally, though, my senior year arrived and our director got a bit braver with her choices, opting for “Guys and Dolls.” And, since I had paid my dues and proven my talent and reliability, I earned the role of Adelaide.

Adelaide was a dream role for me. I had the most costume changes of any character, and since my character was a showgirl, they were playful and bright and interesting (not to mention the fact that they usually didn’t involve much fabric, if you know what I mean). I was the comic relief—which is usually my role in real life—and it was so much fun to zing out the one-liners, even if they were cheesy and outdated. I got to dance, I got to sing the best songs (“Adelaide’s Lament” still remains one of my favorites in all of Broadway history), and I even got to kiss the cute guy who played my romantic opposite.

“Guys and Dolls” was a great way to end my high school career, not just because I got to play one of the leads, but because the cast was so close-knit. We all made the process fun, whether we were building the set or rehearsing a big dance number or selling tickets in the cafeteria.

In college, I searched for a similar experience—I played one of the witches in a production of “Macbeth” at the request of the director, who was a friend of mine—but the atmosphere wasn’t nearly as collegial since degrees and careers and professional reputations were on the line. No one seemed to be having fun, and that turned me off in a big way.

Now that I’ve settled into a steady “nine to five” (not really, but close enough) gig and passed the bar exam, I want to rejoin the performance fold. I want to sing in a choir or act in a play, but only if my cohorts are in it for the pure joy of being on stage. I know that EJ is involved with community theater (and please forgive me, hon, if I ask you to remind me where—well, not “if,” since I basically just asked you). Is there anyone else in the blogosphere who can point me in the right direction?

In the words of Maureen in “Rent”—“Which way to the stage?”

Attention: Maryland soon-to-be attorneys

If anyone needs tickets to the 2:15 PM swearing-in ceremony next Tuesday (June 13), please let me know--I will not be using either of mine,* and I'd hate for them to go to waste.

If you're interested, please e-mail me at bettyjoan5180 (at) yahoo (dot) com.

Regular posting to resume later today...

* Before you feel too sorry for me, it's not that my family doesn't want to go. My folks live in Atlanta, and my sister and boyfriend have to work. To be honest, if my presence wasn't required, I probably wouldn't go--every day I have to take off for something like this is one less day I can spend on actual vacation.

Weekend recap: spa-tastic edition

Ah, finally, a relaxing weekend! The past few days were just what the doctor ordered—no hectic schedule, no crazy obligations, and just enough social time to satisfy such a natural extrovert as myself.

Friday night, I took Jason and Jeanette (we’re getting to be quite the gruesome threesome, since David is spending his summer on the Left Coast) to Jaleo for some tapas and drinks. We went to the Downtown location, and while everything was decent, I wasn’t really impressed. After visiting each of the locations multiple times, I feel comfortable saying that the Bethesda location is far superior—in atmosphere, food, and service—to the other two.

Saturday, I was treated like royalty here. I got a one-hour Swedish massage, a skin renewal facial, and a manicure-pedicure. The massage was great; it was my first one ever, so the pressure was a lot to take in some areas, but overall it felt really good. The facial was the best part of the whole package—I noticed immediately afterward that my skin was smoother and had a more radiant glow. Of all of the services, that’s probably the one on which I would splurge more regularly (if I could). Getting my nails done was pretty standard, but it was an excellent way to finish a wonderful afternoon. Overall thoughts on the spa? Definitely a lifestyle to which I could become accustomed!

Saturday night was Mexican food at Alero on U (complete with yummy peach margaritas), followed by a three-game billiards challenge (I won the first game fair and square, I lost the second game because I scratched on the eight ball, and I won the third game because Jason scratched on the eight ball) at Cue Bar. I had never been there before, and I really liked it—plenty of room, well-stocked bar, not too smoky. We were there at about 9 or 9:30 PM, and the place was empty; there were a couple of tables of girls drinking, two of the five pool tables were being used (ours included), and no one was playing on the popular ping-pong table. Maybe we were just early (I am an old lady, after all, haha), but I hope Cue Bar has more customers than I saw, because I’d hate to lose a cool spot in my neighborhood.

Sunday was grocery-store-o-rama (we made two hefty trips with our granny cart, one to Soviet Safeway and one to Whole Foods), followed by cleaning the apartment. For dinner, I cooked Giada’s champagne risotto (recipe here). It was quite good—the saltiness of the baked prociutto really contrasted well with the richness of the asparagus and the creaminess of the Arborio rice. I didn’t notice much of a flavor difference by preparing the dish with champagne instead of white wine, but it did give me an excuse to drink a glass of bubbly with dinner. The weekend was rounded off with an Iron Chef America battle (Jason and I had been excited about “Battle Bacon” for a while).

This week has a lot in store—a big work project, a couple of happy hours, and (hopefully) the successful resolution of our ongoing Comcast dilemma.

So…here goes!

Friday five.

1. I surpassed 10,000 visits yesterday. Wowza! I certainly appreciate all of my regular readers, but I also thank those of you who stumble into my virtual world via weird Google searches and links on other sites. Sometimes I wish I knew more about the people who spend time here—I’m sure many of you have far better stories to tell than I do.

2. Our digital cable still doesn’t work. But, on the plus side, sis and I joined Netflix, so the lack of television hasn’t reached gargantuan levels of annoyance (yet). So far, we’ve watched Me and You and Everyone We Know and Jarhead. The former was…interesting. I couldn’t decide whether it was supposed to be sad or funny or disturbing or what (this is probably why I shouldn’t watch indie flicks—I’m just not smart enough). There was a very touching and well-acted scene on a sidewalk, but other than that, I was pretty much lost. The latter, on the other hand, was excellent. Jake Gyllenhaal was good, as usual (and super duper pretty, of course), but I was actually more impressed by the performances of Jamie Foxx and Peter Sarsgaard. It wasn’t a typical war movie—it seemed much more personal and realistic. Now I definitely want to read Anthony Swofford’s book.

3. It’s Friday! That means that I’m just 24 hours away from my decadent (and well-deserved, if you ask me) trip to the spa. Jason gave me a gift certificate for my birthday, so I’m indulging in a full-body Swedish massage, a skin renewal facial, and a spa mani-pedi. Three-and-a-half hours of pampering. Woo hoo!

4. During my daily browsing of the blogosphere, I have come across a bunch of new bar exam blogs. I can’t believe it’s been a year since I started my looooooong barzam journey! To everyone who’s studying, whether it’s your first time or your fifth, GOOD LUCK! Feel free to get in touch if you need to vent or if you have questions, especially if you’re taking the Maryland test. On a related note, only about ten days until I get sworn in as a real live licensed attorney!

5. Have a great weekend, everyone! :-)

America is a litigious society? Get out!

I just think this is a wee bit ridiculous.

To be fair, I did not enjoy Fahrenheit 9/11. I thought it was inflammatory, self-indulgent, manipulative filmmaking.

However, the alleged manipulation that is the subject of the lawsuit is a stretch at best. Here's the context (from Yahoo! news):

"In Moore's film Damon is shown lying on a gurney, covered in bandages. He says he feels as if he's 'being crushed in a vise,' adding, 'but [the painkillers] do a lot to help it. And they take a lot of the edge off of it.'"

"The scene prior to Damon's features U.S. Rep. Jim McDermott, a Democrat from Washington state, saying, 'You know, [those in the Bush administration] say they're not leaving any veterans behind, but they're leaving all kinds of veterans behind.'"

"In his lawsuit, Damon has argued that the juxtaposition of those two scenes made it sound as if the military and the Bush administration had left him to grapple alone with pain or possibly even a drug addiction when, in reality, he 'agrees with and supports the president and the United States' war effort and was not left behind.'"

Okay, first of all, that juxtaposition makes Representative McDermott seem like he's anti-war (a position with which, I'm sure, the good Congressman would not disagree)--NOT the soldier on the gurney. Second, how do you create the implication of a drug addiction from one comment about painkillers? I mean, come on, the guy lost both of his arms--I bet it fucking hurt. And I bet that no one in his or her right mind would judge him for utilizing whatever medication was offered to him to ease his substantial pain.

Even if you grant that this particular veteran was wronged by Michael Moore in some way (which, again, I think is a significant stretch), are you kidding with that $75 million number? You've got to be joking, man. You want $75 million dollars? Sue the company that made the tire on your Black Hawk helicopter--you know, the one that exploded and injured you so badly that your arms had to be amputated? And don't even get me started on the $10 million damages that this guy's wife is claiming.

I have the utmost respect for our country's armed services, and I wish that all of our veterans were better compensated for the tremendous sacrifices they've made.

This lawsuit? Not the way to get it done.