True to form

Mom got power back today. My house? still nothing. Cat is not amused. With the start of law school and Hurricane Gustav, there has been much stress, drama and argh situations.

and true to form... here he comes.

Dream Killer.

Who offers you (or me) everything you need to make it all better. Wow that makes him sound like a drug dealer... I assure you he is not.

I saw him at school as I was about to walk into Legal Research. I made it through my 1st week. I think I might be functionally retarded. That is about how great it was.

Dream Killer floats by to inquire about my start... like we are buddy pals. like you did not take every shot you had left to take. Like you did not seek to make me feel like I could never do anything in life.

I digress.

I scurry away in true awkward fashion. He left a note on my car. (little stalker-ish. I'm just saying. it is) blah blah he was crazy about me... blah blah he acted like a jerk because he does not think... blah blah.

then he leave message (because he is still blocked on my cell... email... and does not have the number to the blackberry) he has books, notes, outlines and supplements that i can have. all right here. just take it. it will make it all better.

I got spooked. I took it. stupid. stupid.... but it is helping...

on to Hurricane. We had trees uprooted, roof damage, no power for a week... thinking it could be weeks until we get it back... here he is: "I know you didn't remember to get cash, I pulled out $50 for you... just to hold you for a min... and i got feet (Doritos Cool Ranch) and skittles for you because i know how much you like them"

fast forward. His awesome amazing dad who wrote one of my letters of rec has cancer. It has been in and out of remission for years. He is in chemo again. He does not look good. In fact he is going to die.

Dream Killer suggests I go by the house. The company I work for has tankers of gas especially for us. I offer this humble gesture to the dad. Because he is a humble greatness. because when he is gone the world will feel a loss. Because he is the reason I do not have a DWI, because because because.

Today he struggles against himself and takes me up on it. Before I get there, power is restored. Dream Killer calls to tell me to still come over... for pizza with the fam.

No.

this is the line.

Every time that the world rages and storms that is his in. That is how he makes temporary amends so we can make it through this situation... and just when you think everything is ok.... BAM! $hit storm! and he is quick to tell me that his family is not mine. and I can just forget that letter from his dad. and my mother never loved me and i have no worth in this world.

no more.

My gesture was small to be sure. but it was for the dad. and not for the killer of my dreams. True to form he followed his M.O.

Contra-mine I am not going back. We are not OK and I will not do this to myself ever again.

Bib #318! This girl is a RocketChick!

My legs were on fire. The 12 miles bike was longer than it should have been... my swim was sloppy and I had to walk (or wobble) the 1st almost mile of the run. i can't wait to do it again.

at the end of the day... I finished 16th in my division... and i beat a hell of a lot of other people, I have to be happy about that. I am an athlete. I am a Tri-Athlete. i am a Rocket chick.

I need water.

"I Can't Believe I Just Did That!"

I can't believe I just read that.

The title is a book that occupied me on the 16 hours in a car to Atlanta, then Athens, then back to Atlanta and finally home.

Btw... Kias are god awful! I hate those things. They make as much sense to me as Saturn cars. Why? for what reason. Also I fully recognize that I am an evil capitalist that believes in the roomy goodness of an SUV.

Back to book and will have to finish post later.

I can see the value in the 1st portion of this as it relates to Career Development for the yuppies. It lends itself to the awesome premise of a presentation I am giving next month in Mass. (and they are flying me up for 1 day to talk for 45 min... I am floored. and biding my time till i rub it in Bambi's face)

My issue comes in that you have to take this and all "self-help" books with a grain of salt. Why? because the author's bias is all over it. He was a woose as a kid and you can tell. He is probably a homo-sexual. i say this not negatively but as a matter of fact... and through his writing you can tell.

The value in this book? deconstructing the power struggle. it is interesting. more later.

I post partially to force myself to update.

UPDATE: i lost my train of thought. i also lost my credit card apparently. Had lunch on Thursday w/JB. Waitress gave me someone else's card. I had no idea. Spent the weekend in ATL... used it all over the place... suddenly it was declined at a gas station... called today b/c for the life of me I could not figure out what was wrong... now all of the charges will be taken care of by VISA. Don't know what to make of all that.

fat finger the sequel: fat arm... the explanation

Circa April... was the HUGE company picnic. Mom came to get sick on cotton candy, popcorn and coke... grams came so i could beat her at basketball... (the pic they sent me of her is precious. for privacy reasons I am not posting. email me... I'll show you how cute she is)...

and i got put on a volley ball team for the tournament. because from weight training and swimming... i have the girl equivalent to guns. (these are so going away! people notice and i am getting self conscious. the definition is not bad... but I'm getting hit on by lesbians... it's kind of scary) thus i look like an athlete. SURELY i know what to do with a volley.

Thing is, i do not.

I have not touched a volley ball since like 6th grade. I did ballet. I did dance team. I didn't have to DO P.E. with the ruffians. ick.

so i got put on a team that has to play against the COO and his kids. Oh there is some good news there. Get ready for the good ol' college try. the boys on my team were SERIOUS about this. I'm not sure why i was there. The ball would come at me an in true girl form... i ran in the opposite direction in my pink shorts while the boys tried to kill the ball. it was madness...

until i tried to hit the ball. and the last 3 fingers on my right hand began to swell. it was so painful. now my pinkie is still deformed. You think i am kidding... i am not.

Mom's sage medical advice? "Honey stick your hand in a cup of ice... and don't be such a woose" yay mom. at least she made the sad face as she said it and brought me juice :)

hence we begot fat finger... on to the sequel...

2 weeks ago running suicide sprints... on a soccer field... with p-day and the real athletes he trains. football, soccer, track... the BOYS. I was working on my run times and intervals... i can use this.

one of the girls passed out from heat exhaustion... and my heat tried to pretend not to notice... her friends helped her up. the paramedics put her in a tent. the workout proceeded. In a case like that... unless you know the person LEAVE THEM ALONE. i'm sure she was just mortified. I know I would be.

How do I know? Because shortly thereafter, I was. (that's what she said).

Next set of sprints. run, turn at cone, run back, turn at further cone, run back, turn at... ok you get the drill.

except on the turn, i turned awkwardly and felt myself going down... i put my right arm behind me to catch myself... and felt my wrist pop.

I don't know what it says about me that i was MORTIFIED and EMBARRASSED because i fell in front of GOD AND EVERYBODY before I realized I was in pain.

I immediately tried to stand up but could not put pressure on my right hand. P-day scooped me up like a 2 year old which only made me hyper ventilate worse. It was so retarded. and I couldn't stop it.

My heat is around me and the boys have the frozen death stare and whisper "please don't cry, please don't cry" and i grit my teeth and say "I DO NOT CRY"

to which P-day is concerned and says "ok, don't cry... please breath because you are scaring me".

for my efforts i had a wrist and arm that were incredibly painful and required ice. i couldn't do anything because i only had one hand and even through ice, celebrex and lots of ibuprofen my hand screamed at the slightest movement.

obviously it is a lot better now. hence i am typing. it is funnier now.. but the whole thing has knocked me back weeks of training.

did i mention my 1st tri is this Saturday (yeah, THERE is some good news) and the whole damn thing has cost me so much money, i have to do it at this point.

i'm not ready, and i hate the way i look. that is vain. or maybe it just looks that way.

worst part? roommate bought me a mountain bike and put his $700 road bike at my disposal. i should probably get familiar with the damn thing, since i'm gonna do 12 miles on it.

rat bastard.

Fat Finger the Sequel: Fat Arm!

before we get to the title line... am watching Mamma Mia!

Very good. better than I thought it would be.

overarching impression: Meryl Streep is OOOOOOLLLLLLLDDDDDDD!!!!!

Pura Vida

Subject: Call from Austin

Times I let it go to V-mail: 3 times in 2 weeks

why I picked up today? He sent me a text... I was curious.

why he called: he is flying back to Costa Rica which is where he lives. and will be moving to Australia.

He wants to give me a perspective of disenchanted young people everywhere else in the world. He wants to keep in touch. He wants to remain friends. He gives me his email and asks me to visit his myspace full of Costa Rica.

I visit MySpace out of curiosity. he is listed as the title line.

He is in a relationship? his myspace says so. he does not bring this up.

He gets off the phone to board a plane. "come visit me wherever i am. come live in australia whenever you are sick of the rat race". I did the visit when he was in Austin... just like Japan he will seamlessly move into "stay here! stay forever!" and i will want to break my neck running away from him.

We are not friends. we used to be. and then i was stupid enough to listen to his professing of his undying love... and he says stupid things like marriage... and he is a flake. he is not the marrying kind.

I want to drown myself in beer. and kick him. want the beer more though.

I want to not be where i am. suddenly the job i love... the impending promotion... the start of law school... looks like nothing.

why? because he spent a month in Italy just because... so this is jealousy? of his life? of his abandonment of rational reason... and the universe just catches him.

I remember that it and he did not work for me. That i do not want to bring him home to the family, do not want to marry him. did not even want to see him very often... so the issue is not so much him... as it is me.

which i know.

ugh. next time i am just not answering. no matter how many times he calls. I'm too old for this $hit.

Being in the Air Force does not obligate me to take you to a strip club.

onward.

Thursday was DJ Sabrozo's birthday. He wants to do dinner at P.F. Changs and drinks somewhere else. I say cool. I have to go. I punk out on too many outings for the sake of work, working out or plain-i just don't want to.

but he continues to call and he always has... so i feel like i have to. OMG! that was the most fun I have had in my city in a long time. Dinner was me, him and 20 newbie clubbing girls. that was awkward. Later, all of the other fun people showed up and the party was moved to Sullivans. Usually a better... calmer more sophisticated bar/restaurant... THAT night try cheesy band, lots o cougars and drunken young professionals.

Many many martinis later...

DJ wants to go to the gold club. Argh. At this point we are down to the fantastic 4. Me, Palestine 4-EVA, Nidal and DJ.

nice.

On to the gold club. i take issue to pay to see something i already have. I've gone w/friends... i get that it is a form of entertainment... and for DJ's b-day i will shut up and go.

it was interesting until a stripper put her tongue down my throat. So, i guess the awesome pop culture reference would be "I kissed a girl and I didn't like it".

Ever awesomely sarcarastic Nidal hands me a lemon drop and says "Here you go kid. Alcohol kills everything, even chlamydia!"

ok, that was funny.

fast forward to the UFC fight last night at Hooters. interesting enough. Christmas's brother in law's friends is on military leave and about to deploy to Iraq for 6 months. yay him.

he is 21. yay him part 2.

he is very vocal about being in the military/air force... it is all he talks about... and wanting to go to a strip club. he has never been. up to this point... still not my problem.

He goes on and on... most of the guys he is hanging with are grossly underaged and very immature. Still not my problem, the grown people are on my side of the table. Then there were a few. and he is trying to find someone to go with him...

on and on about how this will be the only good memory he has to take with him to Iraq. and it is all very sad. he is young. and stupid young. and not cute enough to make up for the dumb $hit that keeps coming out of his mouth.

he begs me to take him. i don't want to. i say i went already for a friend's birthday...

he says "well my birthday was in April... and none of my friends took me! you could feel better that you were helping me have a good birthday."

my response "apparently you need better friends and you are not my friend... in fact we just met, so i don't exactly care whether or not you had or have a good one ever"

ugh.

he worked on me long enough that i took him. bought him a beer... stayed all of 10 minutes for his friend to meet us... and left them both there.

today christmas texts me that this guy was hoping i would go there with him... love it... take him home and *ahem*. is he serious? has he met him... where would this little guy get an idea that something like that would happen without the aid of rupees slipped into my drink. seriously! what are the teaching these young kids in the military.

The shirt is funny... because it was the shirt that he was wearing. and he wonders why he is not getting laid.

0-L.O.V.E. in 2.5 seconds

Lots to post... more to come... all in one day because i have been too busy to write.

on to this one.

Yesterday Jenny-Bear had her 1st test of the season. She is taking 4 classes (12 hours) in summer school and has to make straight A's... so she can get back into her senior college and take the 3 classes she needs to graduate.

why? because she opted for marriage and child instead of finishing the d@mn degree when it would have been 2 classes.

Thus, now she is going back. She has suffiently caught 1st day of school envy from the rest of us and wants a degree. I want her to have one as well.

Back to story... yesterday was her 1st essay test. she called that morning... we were supposed to do the girlie... pedicure... maybe wine maybe cheese... maybe...

by the time we both did hair and makeup she made the executive decision of "I NEED A DRINK! Smelly Mexican!"

I countered with my own executive veto "NO SMELLY MEXICAN"

We met at Friendly off campus grill and bar, ate, drank, became merry. She got $hit faced very quickly... how did this happen?

She mentions she promised the husband a margarita hence we had to stop by Smelly Mexican. It becomes the drunken mission. Seek out the Margarita. We get there, find the bar. find the waitress. find the margarita.

Mission accomplished.

and here comes round 2 before we could stick a straw in round 1.

Sometimes (ok usually) it is nice to be the girl.

Some guys from the bar sent us drinks. it is a lovely gesture and i greatly enjoy it. Let's focus on the pivital word here... GESTURE.

Jenny Bear proceeds to get weepy into margarita. WTF?

She goes off "they only sent drinks because of you. they are hitting on you, and i am officially the unattractive friend." no this is not the case. ladies and gentlemen, this is not the case at all. JB is stunning. has always been, will always be. not just because she is my BFF and i am biased.

So she engages them in conversation to prove it. Oh, there is a good idea.

The guy that bought our drinks own a commercial construction firm and lives down the street from the CEO of my Fortune 500 company. He knows the execs from my business line. We talk shop. He sees himself as an over acheiver... I am engaged in conversation so my friend can have her ego stroked.

He goes on and on... and somewhere in there starts to tell me about how much of a big damn deal he is. that he would like to bank roll my dreams ... and the life he could provide for me and all of the potential he sees... he even pulled out his crack-berry to show me the 85ft. pool he just built in his backyard (or maybe he just took a pic of a random pool).

ok. now it is time to go. why? because he admits it may have been the alcohol (gee... you think?) but he has never fallen for a woman so fast and gives me the business card... and begins to profess his undying love.

Yeah. thank you and good night.

Next stop... Fox and the Hound with mugs... and Sullivans with the run in of my boy next door.

More to come.

Tourettes' is engaged!

by definition she will be getting married.

I am officially the last of my best single girlfriends. ugh.

It is the boy in Monroe (northeast LA)... and though i consider my city not big enough to be a real city... Monroe may as well be the sticks. and little rural towns... they are cute... but i'm a city girl. ugh part II.

I should start by clarifying what my role is here.

1. Dress up
2. Show up
3. Shut up

I say this because outside of what I or anyone else thinks of this union... we are not asked to think. If Tourettes has rationalized this in her mind... we all smile and nod. Why? because of her own admission she is settling. He fits what she kind of wants. and her dad likes the guys. and he has stuck with her showing him all of her crazy for 8 months.

Is she happy? If you ask her (which I did) she says "yeah, i guess.... i mean what is happiness anyway. He loves me. I'm getting old."

Oh.

and I close my eyes to the way my heart hurts for her. it is new. no, no it is not. but to let her do this and not crap on her already fragile sense of purpose is what is expected of me. because no matter what i say she will do it anyway... and forever remember that it was me that said. if she is to not do this she has to get there on her own.

in the meantime i am trying to steer her away from ugly bridesmaids dresses. and also... we are not picking a dress based on what would be most flattering for the fat girl!

It is everything you hope it will be.

I cried. I am a sap. It's been a long time since I've cried in a movie, and this is what brought it out.

It is simply perfect. Not because it mirrors every girls life... but every girl's hope. It is our modern day fairy tale.

Wow that looks terrible. ah, but who cares.

big news but it deserves it's own post. for the mean time i am putting new music on my mp3 player and going to run.

*sigh*

Meet "Southern"

WTF?!

It is the cat from my dream. except last night as I walked in the door, he walked in with me.

He is cuddley (i don't know if it is a boy or a girl... no i don't know how to tell) and a kitten. and very attached to me. I wake roommate up (at like 1 in the morning) to ask if we can keep him. Apparently i must give him a bath and feed him something 1st.

It is just strange that I dreamed him and he showed up. I think he shall be Southern Comfort. He really is sweet. and very snuggly. I like that. I think I need that.

*sigh*

A funny thing happened on the way to the forum...

I woke up happy.

and I am as confused as you are reading this.

Have you ever had a dream and woke up wondering what it meant?
Have you ever had a dream and woke up knowing exactly what it meant?

I got that second one, and I don't know what it was... It wasn't overly anything. Very realistic... nothing out of the ordinary, except Dream Killer was in it (we are no longer speaking.It has been 2 months and i am a better person for it)

He had a new girl roommate and a new cat named "Southern" in my dream.

I don't know what exactly equalled "happy". But I woke up feeling very settled. Today life is good.

Other updates... Bama is engaged. Little Bit told me. To a girl that worked with him at the gym here. I am in awe that his way worked. I get that he took in a huge amount and sifted... and it begets marriage? Interesting.

Had a real date with Goggles. Dinner and wine. It was nice. Today a crawfish boil and a bar-b-que. It was ok. I'm just not into him, and I will never be. And now we are looking for the words to tell him so and still have him train me. (or put me in touch with his old swim coach because we need to clean up some bad strokes.)

however i did lose 3 lbs this week (though i probably gained them all right back today)

In other news... I am sticking with my bad law school for a year and trying to transfer before next summer. We'll see how this goes.

I love him!

I am holding auditions to be in my wedding party!

why? because i want the thriller dance.
Please proceed to video if you have not already done so.

But K you are not engaged...
I think you are missing the point! Please watch the video again
You are not even seriously dating...
Why must we argue semantics. THRILLER!
Don't you think you are jumping the gun just a smidge? what if your friends are rythmically challenged?
My theory on this is that you really only need one guy that is TOTALLY into it to make this work. Stick him in front and watch the magic happen!


and for my challenged friends... i am confident in my ability to make new ones!

Can one really base a whole wedding around an after party dance?
It would be an Indian wedding anyway, by definition that is at least 1/2 freakshow... and besides..
THRILLER! need I say more?
Where do I sign up?
uh... 1st i need a date I like.

have made it work out #2 w/Goggles. (which is what I am calling him). I get why one needs to change trainers every so often. Apparently my current weakness is lower abs. and Cissy lets me get away with that.

Also... ran at a 6 min pace for 3 minutes. that is growth for me. Countdown to when I tell him this is not dating.

M says I have to tell him. otherwise i might not.

Check 1, 2.

coupla questions...

1. When did working out become a date?
2. How does one not see people through beer goggles when one has been drinking?
3. How does one politely say "I'm sorry, i met when I was drinking... now that I've seen you today, I realize that I am NOT in fact attracted to you. bye".
4. How come when Mom's locks herself out of somewhere... it is literally a countdown until I do it too...
5. and last but not least.... when was the last time your mom dropped you off for a date.

The answer to #5, for me, is today.

Off we go.

Start with Thursday. Jenny Bear, Tourettes' and I had dinner to plan our vacation and the upcoming of Jen's B-day. It's in New Orleans 2nd week of June... staying Friday through Sunday. It is going to ROCK!

Chicago may come down. (scary.)

Also, Happy Drunk Ken Doll is working on tickets to the Hornets game (yes game 7 against the Spurs)... even if there are not tickets involved, we will be watching it in a bar and randomly partying in the Quarter. That outing is me Bunkles and Christmas.

Futher, Happy Drunk yipped at me over not submitting an app to Loyola yet... "K, if I ask someone to let you in and there is no application... what is the point?!" I feel like he is judging me. Need a new personal statement and that is scary also.

Back to the list.

After Thursday dinner (this was important because there was a bottle of pinot noir involved). DJ Sabrozo calls and wants to do 80's night at some club. I'm down for this, I haven't been to a club in you know how long?!

So I meet him, we go. I had been drinking since 7. It is now 11. This place is packed, and the yuppies dance. Me? I don't like crowds. I'm possibly getting progressively more claustraphobic... I just don't like it. DJ is cool. we find a table and get drinks.

He is determined to break me out of this and before I can finish a drink/go to the bathroom/ or have another drink... we have to make the rounds. Meaning walk around the dance floor or the upstairs part. Like being around people will make me a people friendly person. nope.

But I find what I think is cute. So I start with that. "Hi, you are the best looking guy in here. What is your name?" did you see how I did not ask him how old he was.

We talk about I don't know what. I amuse myself by singing Madonna. quite loudly. The funny part is I made everyone around me sing too.

My arms are getting more definition and I am wearing a sleeveless shirt. He asks if I work out and if I would like to do so with him. I say "can you make me drop 20 lbs" he says yes and I am intrigued.

We try to schedule. Friday not good for him and he is supposed to be in N.O. this weekend. DJ is ready to leave. I say "bye" and he says "wait!!!"

I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to give him my number. Yes, I do. I was drinking and I thought he was cute.

Kudos to him for following up... he asked me to lunch on Friday... which I flaked on to have lunch w/Bunkles (and plot mission impossible to steal his glitter ball). He asks if I want to work out today. I say yes (I can always use a new trainer).

On to today. Amidst running errands... I have successfully locked my keys in the house. All I have is my laptop, the power cord and my cell phone. I am wearing the workout clothes I wore to Yoga. The roommate is 3 hours away fishing in Grande Isle until tomorrow night. F*CK!

Luckily I live 2 subdivisions aways from my mom. It wasn't on purpose, but it is nice. I call, she says "you don't have to explain, c'mon!". I walked for like 30 min. I get there in time to ask her to drop me off at the gym a couple of streets away.

The boy is quiet. Not like overly so... but he talks a hell of lot less than I do. He is calmer also. I look like a spass with a short attention span. He is very focused. and less cute than I previously thought. But it's like the practice for dating, yes? It is me getting the bugs out for sitting next to someone I am more attracted to. Goodness that makes me sound shallow.

I keep the lock out, mom drop off to myself.

The workout was good. He did football and track (of course he did... that seems to be my m.o.) and got a college scholarship out of it. He's good. Today was him guaging me. Apparently... I'm pretty good myself (*translation... for a girl).

He did also mention that he is going to N.O. to see his new baby God-daugter, and put it off a day to see me. and i commence feeling like a sh*t.

When I am done, he is going to get some weights in before he is done, I use this opportune moment to call my mommy to pick me up. luckily she lives right around the corner, and I will never have to explain this to him.

On the way home he texts to invite to me play in a wiffle ball tournament tomorrow. Which sound so fun... but I demurely say I can't with no explanation.

Mom is nervous about me driving the truck with no licence... and I just couldn't imagine being dropped off.

yes i am a dork.

I AM NOT A CYNIC! i am intolerant.

there is a difference, gosh darnit!

At some point today I decided I would be more productive at a coffee shop. There were too many distractions at work (the stupid people kept talking to me), even locked away I got 11ty billion emails... and then mom locked herself out of the beautiful new truck (and I reminded her why I get the spare set of keys ALL the way to her house to pick up the spares and ALL the way back to her work).

Onward. at said shoppe. yuppie people are following me. I found random yuppie girlie friend to shoot the sh*t with. She is a bit too sugar smacks for my taste. But live and let live.

She goes to the restroom and comes back to tell me all about it.

"OMG! you HAVE to go in there! the air freshener is so yummy! it is like a Vanilla HUG!"

i'm not making this up. she really said that. honestly who puts those words together in a sentence?

anyway, i am sufficiently intrigued because i have the attention span of a puppy. So i must check it out.

K: Honey, that is not a vanilla hug... that is someone who got espresso+vanilla syrup+milk and it did not go well.

G: How can you be so mean?! What do you mean?

K: What you are smelling is someone's sick.

G: still didn't get it

K: look at my drink. Why do i get a vanilla latte w/half soy and half non-fat milk

G: so you don't get sick?

K: right. (intolerant means lactose intolerant) what you are smelling is vomit.

and sadly, girlie had to leave me shortly thereafter.

p.s. She did not keep her coffee and this amuzed me to no end.

Today I met someone...

not in the way that you think.



I blog it because i think it might be significant.



This has been an amazing week. Let's start with I applied and was accepted the same day to law school. Let's further explain it is to evening school which would allow me to still do what I do and have my company pay for it (as a reimbursement to the max allowable by the IRS). The downside, it is in BR, LA and considered a crap school to the rest of the United States.



and I can hear the Dream killer's response to my ever present "What if I don't get into a good school"... he says "Then you be the best at a bad school".


So here's the thing... i ran the lakes this morning and went to my favorite coffee shop to read a bit. i ran into one of the girls i met on law school campus when I was being given the tour. She is super sweet and telling me all about the program etc. Then there is J.Harris who is the #2 ranked person in his class and starting to clerk for a HUGE firm in LA. both are giving me the realities of life and acceptance to this school. After a grounding conversation they go their respective ways.



Intro MARY. She is the person I met of some significance.

"i didn't want to say anything because your friends were there, but did you know that X is a crap school? why aren't you going to Loyola or Tulane?"

blah blah, i love my job, they will pay for it, opportunity with my company... etc.

"there will be other job. you can get a job anywhere. they will pay for that because tuition is so cheap, you will only be able to stay in LA. do you want to do that? Forgive me for saying so but you would be limiting yourself"

blah blah just applied, just got in, could i still be considered for Loyola. the amazing debt etc etc.

"if you finish from there, or even your 1st year, you can transfer to Tulane... and get a job anywhere. knock that debt out in 5 years. the reputation of the school speaks for itself".

and i know this. she gives me the name of someone in the admissions office to call.

i am going through the mental rolodex... i have a guy who has a grandfather on the Board at Loyola... that might be worth something.

She said a bunch more... but nothing i haven't heard before, nor anything that i did not tell myself. I am afraid of rejection.. but I did promise myself the best possible shot.

So we take the shot and see what happens.

also... so the Vice Chancellor at school X calls to tell me I was accepted... and shows me around campus... and tells me there is a scholarship if I transfer to full day (and quit work). Know why? my humbling LSAT score is the 2nd highest in my incoming class. This does not make me feel good. Especially since I hate that score and tested so much higher.

so realignment of focused energy.

if Loyola is a resounding no we have the crap shoot and will simply have to make that work and beg borrow and steal to transfer.

Because I am done low-balling myself.

and i am a competitive jerk. I can do this and I owe myself the best possible shot.

jesus christ what am i doing?!

Flavor Rock

Ok so I took a little bit of artistic freedom with image association...

but tell me you don't see it?

It is my new favorite 2 hours of Celebreality. I have to admit, it is a hot mess and thus I am drawn to it. So much so that I have spent a little time analyzing this.

There are many similarities... how come the person that gets voted off is more about the girls' coup than the guy's original thought? I mean really... how come they sort of bum rush, scream and cackle... and that is how the decision is made. I mean really?

so by survival of the fittest you end up with that which is the most catty and manipulative. and how come all of these girls are nasty looking? or wanna be models with shots all over myspace with their bums exposed... like WOW.

No i will not post for reference. you can search it yourself. the links are somewhere on http://www.flavorofloveworld.com/ and http://www.vh1.com/shows/series/rock_of_love_2/splash.jhtml respectively.

I think though the girls on ROL II are more forth coming with being *ahem* adult entertainers... the girls on FOL III are pretty much looking like prostitutes.

Uh... I think Amber is going to win and I think Daisy will eat a cheeseburger. and Bret will continue to play with all of the girls from the show past and present... why? because this is season 2. and he can.

SoSaysI... so it must be true.

Moving on. Friday found me downtown w/Bunkles and friends. We meant to go to an outdoor concert... found favorite bar that had the Micheal Foster Project (excellent brass band, i've known the trumpeter since we were in middle school) and kind of forgot.

True to form Trip (with both sisters so his triplet status is confirmed) was there and squaking. He has no job. Oh. That is why he was "working" for alcohol a couple of weekends ago. Oh. Too bad Tourettes is at the beach and could not take her verbal revenge.

I am the woose that feels sorry. i will try to look at his resume and see what we can do.

Of course Bryan was there. I saw for 2 seconds... this is just old now. I didn't say anything and he didn't either. ugh. luckly the place was over packed and there was no awkwardness.

However... excellent sound byte of the night came in the form of a pick up line from random person...

"Excuse me, I just wanted to let you know that you ignite the deepest recesses of my heart"...

yes, i generally do. no he did not get my phone number.

i resent that.

Maybe there are still Brit fans out there... but I don't know any.

Further... that is my Alma Mater, Take it off Brit... I know you haven't heard that in a while, but take it off.


grrrr tigers.


p.s. I relay my Bryan story at the outing last night, and I love that I have friends who love me. So I tell Pretty Ricky and Christmas... both are laughing at me... They say the bit that keeps me dillusional... "If that was me, i would think it was funny. If he doesn't get your sense of humor then he is not for you. and why would you want someone who does not get it?"

in truth I still think it was funny too, even if it begot awkwardness.

...sounds about right.

let me tell you about yesterday.

I am again teaching for Junior Achievement... it works well for me on Thursdays... I get to work about 11.

The Sr. VP blah-blah has decided he wants a succession/development plan based upon what he had at his old company.

Ok cool.

He has several hundreds of pages of manuals focused on this plan.

cool still.

He has one hard copy that he wants us (M and I) to turn into a presentation by Tuesday... along w/the 2 other gi-normous bits he wants us to create for the same meeting.

oh good. i thougt this might be the slightest bit difficult. (please note the charming/refreshing use of sarcasm to illustrate one's frustration)

yay.

Short version: we spent all day on this.

I left work at 10 pm. i was beyone tired, it was a loooong work day.

To further moment of weakness, the Dream Killer casually calls to see if i've turned in my law school app. at almost 10 o'clock at night? c'mon!

... i mumble something about being at work and he makes all of the requisite "poor baby" noises. complete with the offer of wine.

to further the dumb-f******g of myself, he offers wine at the new Loft in Perkins Rowe. It is a spin off of the favorite Wine Loft... I have yet to see it, i am all about this. even if it is with him. after all... new trendy bar? right up his alley.

I meet him there, and walk right into... guess who?

Bryan. Attorney Bryan who is 30 years old from the post right under this one. Attorney Bryan who played me to the left because I offended him with my intro. He's looking right at me... I kind of waved and hurried to hide behind DK.

I have to laugh at this. And then I look around at all of the girls in the super tight, super short ill-fitting cocktail dresses that are all the rage... I am in a long sleeved button down and dress slacks. and having a run in that is a little awkward.

Yep. about par for the course and this sounds about right.

I could not see him tonight... as I have kick-ass super model hair and full battle make up. no, not today. yesterday. when i looked like i'd been beaten Rodney King style with the ugly stick.

ugh.