Black Cloud Day

I thnk Johnny Cash about sums it up.

I'm in a FOUL mood today.  I think I can blame it on several things, and probably a combination of them all:  rainy weather, a bastard-Husband, and stupid fucking clients whose drama has worn my last nerve. 

So in the spirit of hating everyone and everything today, I've come up with a list of shit that I just don't give a fuck about:

1)  Who won "America's Got Talent"
2)  That "Big Brother" TV show (I didn't even know it was still being aired)
3)  Lady Gaga's meat dress (I will admit, I'm intrigued, but seriously.  I don't really give a fuck.  My intrigue only goes to the point of practical questions -- like what did she wear underneath her dress?  Did it stink like rotten meat?  How did it stay so red without turning brown?  Shit like that)
4)  Anything having to do with the "Tea Party" or "Tea Partiers" 
5)  Glenn Beck
6)  Republicans in general
7)  Whether my clothes were ironed or match today (they do, but I really didn't care if they did)
8)  Whether my boss gets irritated that I'm closing the door to my office today and not speaking to anyone (bitch just best be glad I'm doing work.  Well, not at this EXACT moment, but I will be workING when I'm done with this post)
9)  Other people's personal issues (I can't avoid this one, considering I'm a family law attorney, but I just want to tell everyone to take their dysfunctional shit elsewhere, but that would be bad for business, I think.  I have my own dysfunction to deal with, frankly)
10)  Last but not least, my diet

Don't take it personally, either.  I don't hate YOU.  Just everyone else.

It's That Time of Year Again...

I'm stuck in the middle!

It's August.  You know what that means?  It means my birthday is right around the corner!  August 12th to be exact (just so you know -- so mark your calendars). 

 

My last few birthdays have been sort of an emotional roller coaster of sorts.  I suppose this year will be no different.  It's number 39...which means I'm one year closer to turning that 40 number.  I don't really feel like I am 39, which is what everyone probably says as they get older.

 

I was laying in bed this morning.  Thinking.  Bed is where I do most of my thinking, and it's actually my favorite place to be.  I was thinking about Daughter and how she's entering the THIRD grade this year.  She's growing into a little person right before my eyes.  Like an actual REAL person, not just some little kid.  It's amazing.

 

I was also reflecting on this past year, because so much has happened.  I passed the Bar exam (finally), and got a job as an attorney, which, considering the Michigan economy, and considering there's like 400 million attorneys in Michigan, was a down-right true-blue miracle.  (It's also a miracle considering my shitty grades from law school.  We won't even mention how many times I had to take the Bar.) 

 

A lot has happened this year, since I last celebrated my birthday.  I don't know what I'm expecting this next year to have in store for me, but I'm hoping it's positive.  I have been on a roll of sorts, it seems.  I also think this might be the last year that I'm willing to turn another year older, officially.  I'm going to stop counting.  Also, please smack me next year if I say something like how "40 is the new 30" or some ridiculous shit like that.  Because you know that I'm going to --  shit people -- 39 is the new 29!  hahaha  I like that.

I'm sure when you check in on me next week for my birthday post I'm going to be in a tizzy.  I don't like getting older.  I mean, don't get me wrong.  I love the wisdom that comes with growing older, I just don't like the wrinkles (THAT REMINDS ME...I need to get a few Botox injections in my forehead!) that come with growing older.  I also could do without the aches and pains, and the fact that I can no longer do a cartwheel without throwing out my back or breaking my neck or something -- yes, I tried several months ago to do one (I used to be able to rock the shit out of cartwheels, I could even do them one-handed) and I hurt myself.  I forgot that I wasn't 12 years old anymore.

 

And those people that say "oh, it's just a number" are completely full of shit.  They're probably the ones that are in the deepest stages of denial about growing older.  So don't you dare try to sell me that crap when I start complaining about getting older. 

 

When I grow old, I want to be her!

I'm going to wrap up this rant by saying -- it's not that I think 39 or 40 is old, because I don't.  Especially since I'm walking that tightrope myself.  It's just that it's not YOUNG.  It's in the middle.  And being "middle-aged" is sort of gross-sounding all in itself.  I think I'd rather be old than "middle-aged".  Mostly because of all the cliches that come with middle-age -- like the "mid-life crisis".  Fuck, I'm just hoping I go through a mid-life crisis.  Maybe get a 25-year old boytoy, buy a sportcar and lose 100 lbs. so I can prance around the neighborhood in a bikini.  LOL  Wouldn't that be hilarious?  Too bad I'm too tired in my middle age to want to put any kind of effort into any of that.  Because it makes me tired just thinking about a 25-year old boyfriend or all the exercise and effort losing 100 lbs. would take.  *YAWN*

Comin' Outta My Head

Today's thoughts:

Lately, I feel like I've been falling down a big, dark, hole and I can't find my way out.  The depression feels like it's crushing me.  I was on a phone conversation with my best friend last night and told her that I couldn't think of one thing that gave my life a little sparkle.  UGH.  I hate feeling like this.  I've made an appointment with my doctor to see if I should adjust my medication, but I think the problem is much bigger than some adjustment in my anti-depressants. 

Mel Gibson is such a fuckhead.  I hope these taped conversations that his girlfriend recorded will be the final nail in the coffin that is his career.  I'm sick of seeing his stupid face on the television, and find him completely disgusting.  In every way.  Who knew Mad Max was such a racist, misogynistic asshole?  However, I do find the tiniest bit of delight in his quote of "you should just smile and blow me".  I think I'm going to have to make that little gem mine.  It's just filled with all kinds of awesome. 

Michigan has been going through a heat wave and I can't decide if I love it or hate it.  The past few summers really sucked ass -- it was a banner day if it got above 80 degrees.  I froze my ass off during the 4th of July weekends in the past -- wearing jeans, sweatshirts, etc. to watch fireworks.  This year, the weather has come back with a vengance.  Lots and lots of days in the high 80s and we even had a heat wave where the temps were in the high 90s.  Granted, I'm sweating my ass off everywhere I go this summer, but I think I'm kind of digging it.

My mom gets on my fucking nerves.  But you may had already known that.  If not, well, there you go.  I love her to death but seriously.  I'm one more guilt trip away from being committed to the psych ward.

I know I haven't given any client updates lately, and last night, I met a real kook.  She was 27 years old and came in with her mom.  She has a 3-year-old daughter.  The babydaddy took their daughter from the babymomma in early June and she hasn't seen her since.  She wants to sue babydaddy so she can get her kid back.  Seems relatively simple, right?  OH NOoooo.  During the conversation we find out that babymomma is bipolar, has previously been a heroin addict (and was on methadone when she found out she was pregnant), stole her mother's credit card (her mother prosecuted her), and has previously been arrested for retail fraud/shoplifiting.  There might be more that I can't think of off the top of my head.  OH.  She also has her driver's license taken away because she was driving on a suspended license.  Her license was suspended because she didn't pay a ticket or something.  I felt like telling her there's not a snowball's chance in hell that she's getting her kid back.  Especially, considering babymomma's mother is really the one who took care of the kid.  Like everyday.  I don't even want to get involved in this case.  It's a fucking mess.  But shit like this is what keeps me coming into work everyday.  Name another job where you get to deal with personal drama that doesn't involve a prison?  Maybe a psychiatrist/psychologist.  Other than that, I can't think of one.  And then I was getting all pissed off because here's this woman who can't even take care of her own child, and there's millions of people out there who want children and can't have them.  Ridiculous.

I've decided that I am never going to understand Men.  Ever.  And no offense to any of my male readers, but I think the world would be a much better place to live in if it were all women.  I remember reading a novel called "The Female Man" in college.  It was about a place, a utopia, where it was all women, and men were only used for breeding purposes.  My utopia would be a little different.  Men would need to be used for breeding purposes of course, but I'd also add doing any labor-intensive job (like farming or construction, you get the idea) and definitely for killing spiders (and other creepy-crawlies) in the house. 

What's been running around your brain lately? 

The Life Project, Take 1

Once again, I'm stealing blog ideas from Kim at Perfectly Cursed Life.  I'm pretty sure she doesn't mind, considering she's practically begging her readers to start their own "Life Project".  I figured since there's no time like the present...here is my first installment on my Life Project (which is basically my "bucket list" but with a fancier title).

1.  Learn a foreign language.  Preferably Spanish, even though I took two semesters of French in college.  All I can remember is how to say "J'suis American!" and "hericot verts".  Look it up.

2.  Visit the following places:  The Grand Canyon, Mt. Rushmore, Hollywood Boulevard, Washington D.C., the Liberty Bell, and New York City.

3.  Get off my meds.  Someday.

4.  Learn to drive a stick shift.  Although I don't know why this one is so damn important to me, considering I can get any car I want in an automatic transmission.  I think it has to do with when I went to buy a Mustang GT about 10 years ago, and all the salesmen (they were all men) sort of made fun of me for buying an automatic transmission in a "sports car".  Know what I said?  "Fuck shifting.  I just want to press a pedal and go for chrissake!"  My salesman took me to an empty parking lot and tried to teach me to drive one, much to his frustration.

5.  Learn to meditate and do it everyday.

So what's on your "Life Project" list?

A Meme

Kim at Perfectly Cursed Life tagged me in her recent meme.  And a "meme", for those of you that don’t know, is basically a survey that many people do and/or are tagged to do…).  Who knew?  Obviously, not me, considering I felt the definition was very helpful.  So onto my meme...



1. When was the last time you played air guitar? Come on, I’m not asking you to admit you still listen to Def Leppard.

OK, seriously...the last time I played "air guitar" it was to a Def Leppard song!  OMG I'm such a sad 80s nerd.  I was watching that horrible movie, "Balls of Fire" and during the final credits sequence, the main character (who looooves Def Leppard) was lip-synching and was totally all over the air guitar thing, so I decided to join in. 


2. What’s the oldest thing in your fridge?

I'm afraid to answer this question.  I think maybe there's some really old yogurt in the back of my fridge.  Either that or some moldy sour cream.  Ewwwww.

3. Vampires, zombies or please make it stop?

It ain't no secret I'm a huge fan of "True Blood" on HBO.  I'm all over the vampire thing in a big way.  "True Blood" would classify me as a "fangbanger". 

4. If you had to change your current profession, and could be anything, what would you do?

Well, if I had any natural talent, I'd want to be a rock star.  But considering I'm 1) tone-deaf, 2) clumsy as all hell, and 3) can read music...I'd probably fail miserably as a rock star.  Hence the reasons why I have not tried it thus far in my life.

5. Undergarment of choice?

This is a little personal, but seriously...panties ALWAYS.  There's no reason why a grown woman should be going commando.  Panties serve a purpose.  And that purpose is not just to prevent the occasional crotch-shots, but also to keep everything bundled up nice a neat.  I just feel weird without panties.


6. What is the tackiest thing you own?

Considering I am a model of good taste, I don't think any of my possessions are tacky.  But I'm sure I have some somewhere.  OH I KNOW.  When Husband and I were first married, good friends of our gave us a gift.  It was a ashtray in the shape of a common housefly.  It's black and the top, fly-body-part, opens up to reveal the ashtray part (and I swear, the thing looks just like this fly).  We still have it.  It's on our fireplace mantle.  So if you ever come by to visit, don't forget to look for it.  It's right next to the second-most tacky thing in my house, a small alligator head (don't ask).  Apparently, my fireplace mantle is the place we display all of our tacky shit.

7. Summer with no air conditioning or winter with no heat?

Shit, this is a no-brainer, considering the heat wave we've had recently.  Winter with no heat, for sure.  I can always add another layer of clothing to keep warm.  Keeping cool is not as easy.

8. Desert island time: Wow, there is a band that will play whenever you snap your fingers and OMG, it’s your favorite! Who is it?

Queen.  They were so fricken awesome.

I'm not going to tag anyone to do the meme, but feel free if you want and then hit me back and let me know you did it so I can read your answers too!

Wonder Woman's Makeover (Makeunder?)

I read this article today regarding Wonder Woman (the comic book hero).  And before you go thinking I'm this avid comic book fan, I'm not.  Not that there's anything wrong with being a comic book fan, I'm just trying to put this post into perspective for y'all.

Reading this article, I felt torn.  As a child of the 1970's, I was a humongo fan of the television show, "Wonder Woman", starring Lynda Carter.  (Yes, it's Lynda with a "y"...that's how much of a fan I am.  Look it up if you don't believe me.)  I'm torn because Wonder Woman will forever be burned into my brain as wearing those hotpants-that-are-frankly-not-hotpants-but-more-of-a-leotard.  She shouldn't be wearing PANTS of all things.  She should be flaunting her amazing Amazon ass in her hotpants/leotard and showing off her amazing body.  Fuck, if I looked like Wonder Woman, I'd wear that fucking leotard in public.  To Court.  With the Golden Lasso attached to my hip.  Say something.  Please.  So I can kick your ass.  "Wonder Woman! (sung to the tune of the TV show theme...look it up dammit!)

I don't think it's sexist that Wonder Woman's costume is a leotard.  She's hot.  And she's a superhero, so bitch best be in the tip-top physical condition.  Plus, lots of the male superheroes have codpieces or something that showcases their physique, usually in some sort of lyrca-spandex blend.  You can't hid any secrets wearing a lyrca-spandex bodysuit, any more than you can hid in a leotard.  Agreed?

Shit, Batman from the 1960s had a lyrca-spandex bodysuit and a pair of black panties over the bodysuit.  Granted, Adam West wasn't exactly a "buff" superhero, but seriously.  He couldn't hid anything in that grey bodysuit and black panties. 

What's next?  Isn't anything sacred anymore?

Comin' Out of My Head

Today's thoughts:

Who's that asshole that was on the news last night apologizing to BP (some asshole Senator or Congressman or someone)?  What a douche.  And I love how he backpetaled and retracted his apology.  His political staff probably shit a brick after his apology and then went spontaneously blind.  Hysterical.

I'm feeling particular lazy today and haven't gotten shit done at work.  Eh.  It's Friday, and dammit, I deserve to blow shit off once in a while.

Did I tell y'all that I got a new car?  I am the proud owner (actually, it's a lease...so technically, I'm a leasee) of a 2010 Ford Focus.  I've had it 3 weeks.  It's black and it's totally sweet.  I thought I would hate it considering I was driving a SUV, but it's pretty kickass.  It has the SYNC technology in it so I love calling people from my car.  For some reason, that shit hasn't gotten old yet, even though I was screaming at the SYNC yesterday because I was trying to call "home" and the voice recognition chick kept thinking I was trying to call "Paul".  Um...no.  "hhhhhhhhoooooome".  I wish I could have smacked the SYNC chick.

There's crazy whacked-out stuff going around here (i.e., work).  The legal secretary walked out today and screamed down the hallway of our floor "I QUIT!"  It was quite the bit of drama today.  She ended up coming back after a couple of hours, but I am getting tired of all the stupid drama that goes on around here.

I realized today that there are no good Mexican restaurants around my workplace and that pissed me off.  I love Mexican food.  And no, Taco Bell doesn't count.  I'm talking about the authentic Mexican food.

I'm so ready for the 4th of July holiday to come.  I am going to take a few days off before and after to have a mini-vacation.  I'm planning to go to Lexington, Michigan where my parents have a little cottage (in case you're not familiar, us Michiganders?  Michiganians?  whatever...we like to go "up north" to cottages -- so I'm going "up north" even though Lexington is like an hour away from my house.)  The cottage has lake access to Lake Huron (that is a pic from the beach I took on Memorial weekend).  I can't wait because it's peaceful and quiet and I can't get cell phone service there, so that's nice too (even though it frustrates the fuck out of me too). 

I hate Viagra commercials.  Especially those "Viva Viagra" ones that are to the tune of "Viva Las Vegas" by Elvis.  I just don't want to think about middle-aged men and their erectile dysfunction.  EVER.  Even when I'm middle-aged (which ain't that far off).  I can't imagine some wife out there, who's been married like 30 years, all thrilled to death because her husband can finally now get as many boners as he wants.  She's probably pissed.  Pissed as all hell.  And I understand men have to suffer through pad and tampon commercials, but seriously. 

My daughter asked me the other day what "breastfeeding" was.  As I struggled for an age-appropriate answer for about 3 seconds, she asked, "Is it gross?"  I answered, "You might think so."  To which she said, "Nevermind."  YES!  Dodged that bullet for the time being.

I'm not a big fan of moustaches...but this one is rather glorious, in a gross sort of way.  I mean, this dude is seriously dedicated to his moustache, don't you think?  He has to put a lot of time into that bad boy, that's for sure.

I love those Progressive Insurance commercials with Flo.  You've seen them right?  Some of my favorite quotes from various commercials...."It's called an "European Shoulder Bag" and "What am I thinking about right now?  Tacos?  YESSSSSSS...."  Love her.  It almost makes me want to call Progressive for a quote.  Almost.

Dang, I'm dying for some tacos now!