Style. Attitude. Sequins. Blowjobs?

Ohio is known for a lot of things. Or rather, not a lot of much. Either way, its always amusing when they manage to push the low-class, uneducated, farmer stereotype with ridiculous ads like this:

The television host formerly known as Oprah

No, in fact I don't know where my life is Oprah. I came home this afternoon smelling of liquor & looking like a trampled hooker. I'm up against a maxed out credit card & a dead end job Oprah. You say you're here to help Oprah? Or should I call you 'O' now? Well your bullshit Chinese Proverb telling me my soul needs fixing isn't much of a help. Neither is that smug look on your face.

OH THIS IS SO WORTH THE FREE PIZZA

Today, I was alerted by co-counsel to the following posting on craig's list:

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Entry Level Associate (Central Nassau)
Reply to: job-968920747@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-12-24, 1:11PM EST



Hi All - I thought that with the holidays approaching it was worth spending an additional posting fee to allay the collective anxiety out there.

The position that we posted on December 10, 2008 is still available. For details of that position, please see the original posting. If you sent a resume, it is unnecessary to send another. We've been a bit overwhelmed by the response, and the holidays sought of crept up on us, so we'll begin interviewing in the new year. I will say that overall I've been impressed with the creative cover letters and the excellent resumes. In any event, we haven't contacted anyone yet, so don't be alarmed by our silence. Enjoy the holidays. Relax with family and friends, remember what is important. Next year will be better. Now I do need to say, if we do not call you in, please understand that it is not a reflection on you, we're a small firm and we only have one opening. I've received resumes from at least thirty five attorneys (and a few soon to be attorneys) that I would interview and hire in a heart beat, if I only had the time and the openings. Stay upbeat.

I do have a few additional things to add, so bear with me.

To the one anti - semite who thought somehow, that religion had anything to do with the salary we were offering - F*ck off - It is my Christmas wish that you remain unemployed forever, and that the closest you come to a legal job is selling Blumberg forms in a Staples. There is no place in this profession for people like you. I will add, that if you have a thing against Jewish Attorneys, perhaps you should consider practicing somewhere other than New York.

To the one law student - Peter - who thought it necessary to defend law students everywhere. Yes, I understand that law students leave school with loans. I think I understand that better than you. I just finished paying mine off this year. With that said, eleven thousand new New York Lawyers were minted last year. Another 11,000 are on their way. Except for the those that secure plum openings at the big firms, I fear paying those student loans for many is going to be a problem. Absent an excellent foundation in the practice of law, many will never be able to do so. Doctors (who for the most part have bigger loans) undergo intense internships at low pay, where they translate what they learned in medical school into an ability to practice medicine. Lawyers have for the most part have never had to serve an internship, but in reality, the first two to three years are an internship. The salary we are offering reflects accurately what we can pay, after factoring in the rates we can charge for a junior attorney, the value that an untrained attorney brings to our practice, the amount of time my partners and I will lose training and reworking their work, the amount of time we write off , and secretarial costs, office costs, malpractice insurance costs, coffee and Friday Pizza. After a year or two, the attorney we hire, will be know how to practice law (and will have eaten a lot of free pizza). What I didn't mention is that two of my partners, started with me as associates - Both had big firm experience - but were willing to start over with a low base salary in order to learn how to practice law. They became invaluable to me and the firm's clients and they make a lot more money now. There is hope. While your email was pleasant, it reflected a real naivete about the industry in general, and I think you need to take a hard look at the practice of law in the 21st century. Contrary to your projections I did not receive resumes from a handful of students at the bottom of the classes from fourth tier law schools. I received resumes from Fordham Grads, Georgetown Grads, Berkeley Grad, Boston U and Boston College, Lots from St Johns, Brooklyn and New York. There were resumes from people let go at Big firms, and others from attorneys who've been out a few years whose practices have yet to take off. I received great resumes from people looking to get back into the profession. Your forecast was completely wrong.

OK, I'm finished ranting. If there is any one out there who would still like to be considered, send a resume. If you sent one, I have it, so don't send another. We will be interviewing in early January. Happy Holidays. Hang in. Times will get better.

Location: Central Nassau
Compensation: 36 - 42k
Principals only. Recruiters, please don't contact this job poster.
Please, no phone calls about this job!
Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.
PostingID: 968920747
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I am not going to point out the obvious, free pizza is definitely worth the trip for a former Sullivan Cromwell attorney to go to Central Nassau. I have pretty much resigned myself to believe that I would do anything for a slice of pizza short of, well, sharing it. In fact, I am fairly certain that not only are graduates from Fordham, Georgetown, Harvard, Yale and G*D considering this position for a free slice of pizza in light of the terrible economy, but I was just on the phone with a member of the newly appointed Obama administration, and he told me that he will be working part time out of this office in Central Nassau for the free pizza.

I completely understand where this schmuck is coming from (Please note, I am employing the use of a Yiddish slight to point out that this blogger surely is not anti-semitic). When I started at my first toilet, I was compensated at the high rate of $40k in Manhattan no less. When I told Atticus Finch about this salary, former Fordham graduate who clearly passed up an offer to work at a small firm in Central Nassau at a rate of $43k to work at a small firm in Manhattan for $90k despite the Nassau's further compensation of free donuts every morning (silly bastard), he asked why they did not cap it at $35k given the fact that first year associates are akin to medical interns.

Funny, schmuck sewer head (SSH) mentions medical interns as a comparison to first year associates who work at firms in Central Nassua at a starting salary of $35k. I am sure you would feel confident in allowing your child to be administered anesthesia by a medical intern who failed their MCATs. Yes, SSH despite your tactic of lying to applicants that you have received resumes from various first tier law school graduates, no one is fooled. The economy is bad, but it is not ever that bad for those who are qualified and managed to get the bear minimum on their LSATs by filling out their names on the scantron.

WhAT is WRONG With you SSH? Sure, I get it, training a new associate is hard even if they are smart. But if you are going to post that your starting salary is $35k, do not defend your position, just throw in that you will also supply a free soft drink with every pizza. SIGN ME THE F*CK UP.

Okay, I am finished ranting.

Good Night Moon

I am so sick and tired of getting all motivated to do something and then taking a nap before I can accomplish whatever task I have in mind. This happens to me at least 3-5 times a day as I have managed to develop a method of taking naps at "work" where I cover my face with my left hand, open a contract folder and look like I am entering some garbage into the database.

Anyhow, in my situation, this does not necessarily just apply to tasks that some, or most people I know at least, avoid as in, let's say, going to the gym. For me, it could be the simplest thing; i.e. getting up from my bed which is practically in my kitchen to pour myself a glass of water (diet coke), getting off my couch which is practically in my bathroom to wash off my makeup from the previous evening, rolling over so I can pick off my cell phone right next to my bed which found itself there after receiving strange calls at 5 AM from God knows what mutated bachelor I met the previous Saturday. Just talking about this makes me zzzzzzz.

This has become a constant problem. I discussed my inertia with my therapist and she tried to tell me that this was a result of some childhood trauma. I tried to think of some childhood trauma that would make me so god damn lazy that I could not go to a Bar Association meeting across the street from my temping station and at least try and put on an act that I am ready willing and able to lawyer in your "office" even if it means that I am really just filing books in your library. By the by, this happened to me at my first toilet. The janitors hired me as an associate, but then just put me in the library for three months where I put away legal reference books. I mean what happened, did M&M ask me to be nice to a play date and I just could not bring myself to do it? Well yes, that did happen quite a bit, which explains my lack of friends from ages 5-26.


I guess what I would like to point out to my therapist is that my adulthood has been by and large way more traumatic than my childhood. Every day I wake up and am like "OH GOD F*CKIN DAMN IT, I AM STILL NOT SOMEONE ELSE. LET ME SLEEP UNTIL NINE AND GET TO "WORK" BY 9:15." That is why I am always sleeping. In fact, she should feel lucky that I build up enough energy to walk from my apartment to her office five blocks North.

I AM IN LOVE

PLEASE, whoever you are, I recognize you are way funnier than me, please marry me.

http://fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com

Call an Exterminator

today i was reminded why i tend to not go outside on saturdays and sundays, especially sundays, after having a feast with E at Houston's. I should have known better, this place is definitely kid friendly with their free refills and everything else they have to offer (their burgers are amazing.)

i decided i hate, no want them dead type of thing, children. i often wondered why humans did not come out of the womb as teenagers and instead are malfunctioning screaming retards for the first 8 yrs of their lives. i could not so much as tell E about my thirty new years' resolutions without some child banging on a dish and screaming bloody murder. It was at this point that I decided that my new years' resolution is to match every child's scream/cry with my own (i also made the decision to take a xanax to calm my nerves). believe you me, i am loud and would like to disturb other adults while they are trying to enjoy a drunken brunch. my major question is what in God's name are they always screaming about???? I am middle aged, single and my parental units have entirely given up on me. They have years until they reach my point and while I suspect that if I had a child I would shake until it is dead, their parents stroll them around and wipe their asses as if they deserve it. not to mention all of their parents think they are genuises despite all evidence to the contrary. they can not even connect a spoon with their mouths. my parents think i suffer from mild retardation and i am fully capable of feeding myself, quite a bit in fact, and make coherent sentences.

that is why, due to pure frustration, i pushed one out of the way to get to the bathroom and then called an exterminator.

Watch that Vodka Cran, I'm wearing White

For those of you that don't believe in Aliens, let me tell you Las Vegas is filled with them. Just check out Glenn Campbell's page www.aliensonearth.com. He's formerly employed by family court & ironcially looks exactly like J.K. Simmons (Dr. Skoda) off Law and Order.

In Vegas, even ghosts make it into the clubs. See exhibit A. These 2 poor club goers are being followed by a ghost & don't even know it. Thanks to local photographers we have solid proof ghosts exist. I mean, ofcourse its a ghost, there's no way a guy would wear a sheet over his head at a club. Yeah, it's definately a ghost.

DREAM JOB

Ala Wikipedia:

MISTRESS: Historically, the term has denoted a kept woman, who was maintained in a comfortable (or even lavish) lifestyle by a wealthy man so that she will be available for his sexual pleasure. Such a woman could move between the roles of a mistress and a courtesan depending on her situation and environment. Today, however, the word mistress is used primarily to refer to the female companion of a man who is married to another woman; in the case of an unmarried man it is usual to speak of a "girlfriend" or "partner."

Historically a man "kept" a mistress. As the term implies, he was responsible for her debts and provided for her in much the same way as he did his wife, although not legally bound to do so. In more recent and emancipated times, it is more likely that the mistress has a job of her own, and is less, if at all, financially dependent on the man.

A mistress is not a prostitute. While a mistress, if "kept", may essentially be exchanging sex for money, the principal difference is that a mistress keeps herself exclusively reserved for one man, in much the same way as a wife, and there is not so much of a direct quid pro quo between the money and the sex act. There is also usually an emotional and possibly social relationship between a man and his mistress, whereas the relationship to a prostitute is predominantly sexual.

Dating propels sobriety

Its typical that a first date, occasional 2nd date, and maybe a few inter-relationship weddings/parties/vacations, would result in a drunker than drunk date. Usually if the drunk half of the couple is the female, the guy just ends up getting laid. However, when the guy decides to outweigh his blood to alcohol, it's slightly more entertaining & usually results in a damn good story.

My recent unwelcomed birthday involved numerous celebrations. Dinners, get togethers, outings, parties, vacations. All of which were unbelievably under control & somewhat uneventful. This with the exception of one particular dinner with a good guy friend.

Normally, I consider the majority of my friends well educated on drinking, as well as educated there own personal drinking limitations. This of course because A. We all drink a lot, & B. We all drink too much. However, this specific date hadn't been practicing his tequila drinking techniques for awhile & when challenged mistakenly agreed to join my Patron filled evening.

Now, everyone gets drunk and makes a fool of themselves here & there. Some happen to do this now & tomorrow. However, when you send your date home in a cab because the owner of the club forsees a messy ending you assume you have actually protected he or she against morning regrets. Unfortunately, this motherly attempt to avoid apologies this particular night ended at the cab, because weeks later I found out the rest of his evening.
After my un-sober date returned home via cab, he realized his keys left in valet also contained his house keys. As any drunk person knows, the quickest way to get into a locked door is actually through the nearest window. And as any robber, thief or drunk knows, windows are most easily opened when shattered. Ofcourse, shattering the window leads to setting off the ADT alarm, which directly leads to 6 cop cars and you in handcuffs, trickling to you being interrogated & you almost being taken to jail for drunkinly breaking into your own house. Of course to only top it off by being dropped off back at valet by your mother the following day.
All of which could easily replace the 12 Steps & considerably reinforce sobriety.

She is Not Mistaken

I am not sure if my readership is aware of the fact that I communicate with some of the permanent employees in or around my temping station. Sure, most of them look at me in disgust, but there is one member of the others, L, who is my ally.

L is a good ally. She prints out things, like my shitty resume, reads my blog and is never too happy to be in the work place. That is why she deserves a cameo.

This past weekend L had the happy occasion of bumping into a Garbage professor who offered to get her into Garbage without applying.

If we were talking about another institution, I might be shocked that a professor could make such a promise. Sure, I am aware of the fact that there are various students at let's say NYU Law who are admitted based strictly on connections, but I am fairly certain that they at least submitted an application and took the LSATs. I am also fairly certain that if L wanted to get into Garbage, she has the mental faculties to make this a possibility without this professor's assistance. Some of my peers were cockroaches for the love of Christ.

Regardless, when I really started thinking about the significance of what this professor was saying I realized that this was not exactly an empty promise/flush. It was a guarantee. Garbage's students are primarily compiled from poor asswipes who did not apply. It sort of works like this, you take your LSATs one day, and the next day you wake up at Garbage. I do not remember if M&M filled out an application for me. That is right, they filled out all of my applications because I refused to apply to any of the law schools that I could get into and watched them manipulate various applications to schools in like Idaho, Florida and Wyoming. When I told them my one stipulation was that I get to remain in New York, they, much like this Professor, promised me that this would not be a problem. Three weeks later, I got a call that Grandpa I must have been thinking of me postmortem as I just been accepted into a New York based sewer.

As far as L is concerned, I imagine she could do much better than Garbage. I mean I am rather impressed by L. She has not even attended Garbage yet and is an actual employee where I have remained, faithfully, and always a temp.

Tak

In all bloody honesty, I have no idea how to say thank you in Danish. I just googled it and came up with the title of my blog. Maybe that is the way to say it. I would prefer if "Tak" meant "kill yourself," but I have a funny feeling I have no such luck.

Today, for the second time, I have been rejected by those who reside in the Nordic region. While I have on many occasions considered leaving my promising station in Manhattan, I do not think I would travel so far as Denmark to rid myself of the stigma of graduating from something the Danish might call a toilettet. I take this letter (as copied and pasted below) to signify the world telling me that my services are not needed. here. there. anywhere. In fact, as a preemptive strike to my considering relocating, Ms. Bisgaard has taken it upon herself to speak on behalf of her country and kindly request that I do not bring my noxious self.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Regarding: Communications advisor, Technology R&D, Århus, Denmark

Dear C,

We would like to thank you once again for your application concerning the
position mentioned above.

Unfortunately we have to tell you that we have decided to proceed with other
candidates having a better match with the requested qualifications and
background.

If you have created and released your profile, we will continue to compare it
with all the relevant vacancies at Vestas, and you are always welcome to apply
for a vacant position.

Thank you for the interest you have shown Vestas.


Yours sincerely

Technology R&D
People & Culture

Dina Kirstine Bisgaard

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Would you Like an Egg??

Today I had the happy occasion of receiving this email:

Dear Member,

During this holiday season, we want to thank you for your membership. Especially during these difficult economic times, we appreciate more than ever your commitment to the New York City Bar Association, and we are striving to increase our efforts to serve our members. Our broad range of programs and services will be featured in the January 2009 issue of 44th Street Notes.

Our dedication to our members is matched by our commitment to all those affected by the economic downturn. The poor will need greater access to legal services, and the City Bar Justice Center will need to increase its ability to provide those services. Our programs, which range from foreclosure to immigration, can be viewed in our Justice Center Annual Report.

We are so grateful to everyone who has already made a contribution to support the Justice Center's pro bono work. Please join us by making a contribution to sustain these efforts. You may donate online or by mail.

With continued best wishes for you and your family during the holiday season and the New Year.

Sincerely,



Patricia, Association of the Bar of the City of New York
42 West 44th Street, New York, NY 10036




----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
***My Response****

Dear Patricia,

Wow, you are barking up the wrong tree and I am going to have to kindly ask you to go kill yourself. Why, it was just this morning that I made an appearance at a temp agency and they asked me if I preferred document review over contract analysis at which point I started crying because I realized that my career options are just that simple, if at all. I replied that I preferred neither, but since I am so bloody poor that I can not even afford a microwave, I am kind of not in the position to be picky.

Oh no, Patricia, the dean of garbage learned this the hard way, my economic crisis has nothing to do with the grander economic crisis. In fact, if possible, I am slightly relieved by this crisis because at least I can say at this point that garbigities are not the only unemployable "attorneys" sifting through the job market. It is kind of like when I learned that I was not the only middle aged 27 yr. old soon to be 28 yr. old spinster who often ponders whether or not it is best to drink three bottles of wine on Monday nights because Gossip Girl is on.

My point is, Patricia, that I am most certainly not making a donation to the Associate of the Bar of the City of New York this year or ever. I am kind of like one of your pro bono cases that your association should be helping as I sometimes do for the homeless associated with New York City Cares (okay, it has not happened yet, but I will do it, soonish) by finding clothes for them at the salvation army and prepping them for their various interviews.

YOU KNOW WHAT SUCKS THE MOST PATRICIA?!?!?! While some people are happy about the upcoming holidays as they get days off from work, I dread it. You heard me. Because I get paid by the hour, when I get hit with a New Years Day and Christmas I make like 300 dollars that month. That is not enough to buy my provisions from the super market (local liquor store) to drown my sorrows away let alone make a donation to your association. I say yours, because it is certainly not mine. I do not associate with it at all.

Sincerely,

Shut the F*ck Up

Far East of M&M's

As some of you might recall, M&M sometimes ask me to "their friends'" various homes for dinner. Because I know M&M have no friends except for each other, I generally am right to believe that this is a set up. Why, just last April as referred to in my post "Is Elijah Single" I was lucky enough to arrive at such a happy occasion.

You can imagine how ridiculously annoyed I was when last Sunday M squared called me and spoke in non sequitor about how I simply just must appear at their friend's Wu Lung's house for dinner next week. Now, do not get me wrong, I am no stranger to the Asian persuasion. I have many Asian friends, well that is a lie. I have one, but she has has explained to me that it is not my fault that I do not have any Asian friends as they tend to stick together. (CHALLAH BEAR you just got a shout out). Needless to say, M&M do not have Chinese friends. No, M&M do not even have Jewish friends so how in God's name am I supposed to believe that M&M just happened to have convinced Wu Lang that a) they were friends and b) that we should all be invited over for dinner (Mr. & Mrs. Atticus Finch included no less). WELL, I thought it might be that Wu Lang was a Chinese version of M and saw the importance of me finding a suitor and had one in mind. I was wrong. My apologies.

As it turns out Wu Lang did just want to have us all over for a traditional Chinese dinner and it was very nice of her to extend her hospitality. How could I be so bloody selfish as to kid with Mr. & Mrs. Atticus Finch that I will have the number 43: Last Standing Single Chinese Boy is Forced to Date Last Standing Single Jew Middle Aged Woman. No, there were no such plans in mind.

The joke really was on M. Boy oh boy, M was not prepared for this. As some of you are aware, M does not eat anything and only drinks coffee. As far back as I can remember, I have yet to see M eat a meal. While I am slender, M makes me look obese. Unfortunate for M, this family did not serve any coffee until after the meal and she had to pass up on a dumpling on account of the calories and just wait for the coffee while everyone ate. Do not worry, M chatted with various strangers around the table to occupy her time. Mainly, about her former cigarette addiction and how she anticipated that the home which is literally five minutes away from M&M's home would be decorated in traditional Chinese, as opposed to English decor. After dinner, M asked that I bring the family cat that I was playing with to the dinner table which she proceeded to practically strangle as poor Figaro hissed and growled at her. Dear Dear.

Regardless, this was all in all a happy occasion. And as I drifted into a wine coma on the car ride home it occurred to me that M&M are in fact capable of having friends which made me sort of happy. After all, who was I to judge if Lu Wang could tolerate their conversation??? Then, I realized she does not as she only partially speaks English.

Mr. Optimistic

Just cause your best friend is black does not mean you should wear his condoms.

AF is Being Given A Run For His Money

In today's day in and age, no one can escape career advice. I imagine that even those of us who are successful fall victim to career advice that they have already heard a million times and want to tell their adviser to kindly shut the f*ck up.

Well, given that I am entirely unsuccessful, I am offered free annoying painful career advice all of the time. Like, "have you ever thought of networking?" No asshole, I never have. Try not to reinvent the wheel here. Next thing you are going to ask me is if I have thought of checking Monster.com. Every day someone thinks they are so much smarter than me and addresses me as though they have ever been in my position, i.e. looking for a job for five years.

If there is one time I really care not to have career advice it is when I am out. When I am concentrating on wine, I am not concentrating on any of the following things: 1. how many cigarettes have I smoked 2. What is the political climate like in the Middle East oh and 3. What is my next career move. Friday night was no exception to this rule.

E and I had the great pleasure of running into a much older Garbage graduate and his partner (the partner inquired in jest whether or not this institution is actually accredited). As your expectations might have it, these two slimes run a personal injury firm. I was fully prepared to not verbally judge them until I was left alone with the Garbage graduate. While E was pleasantly chatting away with the other partner who used to work at her current "practice," I was entirely unfortunate enough to be told what a piece of trash I was by another piece of trash. All I said was that I have not made up my mind entirely as to whether or not I wanted to practice, but if I practiced again I pray to God that I am not working above a KFC. I may have left the second clause out. Needless to say, I tried to change the topic of conversation. I did not even say it is because people like you and your partner who do business in Penn Station that I do not want to practice.

This seltzer bottle told me that when you are a personal injury lawyer, you have the power to change lives. Additionally, after a hard day at work, if you pop in the movie "To Kill a Mockingbird" you will be reminded of why you do what you do. Because I have no interest in making a difference and have adopted this "woe is me attitude," I would not know about this gratifying experience.

My first question was "Seltzer face, did you know that the movie was based on Harper Lee's novel and if so, did you/could you read it?" However, my real inquiry is how this carbonated drink has changed lives in a manner that is comparable to the way let's say Atticus Finch changed lives. Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe the real deal like confronted racism in the deep South. What has Diet Rite done? Confronted the Dunkin Donuts franchise after their client slipped and fell on some coffee. I believe the more relevant movie is My Cousin Vinny.

Hooking Research Part 1

I should probably preface this story.
I currently work at the highest grossing nightclub in the world. Ironically, I work in the slowest, lowest paid area of this nightclub and rarely make more than $500.00 a week. Very recently I have been curious and intrigued by the option of being a hooker & I figured the internet would be a resourceful tool in learning how to go about this new career.

In the midst of my hooking research I came across this Yahoo Question on Yahoo's Answers page:

I WANT TO BE A HOOKER WHEN I GROW UP IS THAT bad?

I am 17 years old and I want to be a hooker when I grow up because I like boys and men and dream about having sex and a life on the steets as a hooker seems exciting. I also like to make my hair big and wear lots of makeup. I wanna walk up to cars and say hey baby want a good time. Also I will ge to spend nights in hotels and look very pretty. I want an exciting life please help and tell me why or why not to do it
I don't have a degree and I wanna get out of the house

Well darling. Let me say, wearing your hair big & putting on lots of makeup has nothing to do with being a hooker. Clowns do that, drag queens do that, girls from texas love it, and I'm known to tease myself into quite the big hair. Also, spending the night in hotels is easily done and usually just involves living in a city with hotels. As far as wanting to have sex with boys & men, now that just makes you a good girlfriend.
However, my little protege darling, you happened to have missed the key element & main reason why most girls decide to open their legs for strangers... and thats MONEY honey. Sweetie, if you are gonna be honest and open on Yahoo about a career that is nothing short of frowned upon, you best be honest about your intent.
What your post really should've read is:

I'm 17, my parents are over their heads in debt & the world is crashing before me. I think money for sex would be a steady job. Any takers?

Oh, Okay Okay.....

This makes perfect sense. No actually, today I woke up and decided to blame the economy for all of my problems. Ninety-nine problems and here is one (well, here are a few actually as I am not one to pass up this opportunity to complain):

I have lost all ability to control myself around a yogurt parfait. No, seriously, I had a long discussion with E last night. If I see a yogurt parfait, I must buy it and eat the entire thing. I had two yesterday, and for shame, neither one of them were that good because of the economy.

The fact that nerve.com presumes I am a lesbian upon registration and only shows me female matches has a lot to do with the fact that since this great depression (for me at least it has been diagnosed by my therapist as a great depression even if the rest of the world is calling it a recession) has traded in all of the male i bankers for butch beasts who tell me that I am their perfect match.

Did they stop making a size 29 in jeans because of the f*ckin economy so help me god because this is my godforsaken size. It is true that I can probably fit my white ass into a size 28. However, I like my denim to ride low and show a little crack. I went to six stores this weekend in search of skinny jeans. No size 29 to be found.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Apparently Garbage agrees with me. Most of its, and its' alumni problems, have to do with the state of the economy. A letter I received from the dean today capitalized on this point:

Dear Garbage Alumnus/a (THANK GOD THE DEAN IS NOT SEXIST):

I wrote to you several weeks ago with an update about the School. Today, I am writing to you about our current students and new graduates, and our need for your support in their efforts to gain genuine legal experience and start their careers. The recent financial crisis has affected many sectors of our economy, and the legal sector is no exception. While our law school remains in strong condition, and it is possible that we will see an increase in applications due to the weakened job market, we know that those same market conditions may create problems for many of our current students, recent graduates, and alumni.......

My response:

Dear Dean of Garbage,

I TOTALLY get where you are coming from. I am so capable of placing blame on one stimulus for all of my problems. For instance, every time I think of your litter box, I say to myself: "If M&M had not forced me to go to law school, I would not have put up such a resistance to the LSATs and failed them only to meet my fate at a worthless institution followed by a career scattered with various toilet bowels and temping stations and persistent spinsterhood despite all of my efforts."

Truth be told, before this economic crisis, I was like offered a ton of jobs at various law firms. No firm was too good for this sh*tbird. Garbage spent all of their time helping me make my next career move. I would come into servicing a career center, and Beetle Juice's wife would help me make the best decision for me. I was in an advertisement in the subway right next to one for University of Phoenix Online with a series of bullet points right next to me in my graduation gear explaining the opportunities afforded to me. I believe the increase in applications has something to do with this advertisement. Do not quote me on this.

-C da shit boogie.

I WILL NEVER BE JENNY MCCARTHY IF I STOP WRITING

I'M BACK! Truth told, it's been too long. People are starting to question my missing few months and frankly, in these times of recession & budgeting, I'm bored out of my broke mind and need something free to do...
So I'm back and writing, and ironically enough, in a new location filled with awful, illegal, entertaining stories (i.e. rockstars, naked football players, & high rollers with anal fetishes). New ambitions & goals (learning to be a hooker, and other resourceful ways to pay my bills).
Thats right friends - LAS VEGAS!!!
Can't wait to share & catch-up with everyone :)

Everything and Anything Anyone Might Be Thankful For

Anyone who knows anything, or in the alternative, anyone who knows me, knows that M&M have raised Atticus Finch (AF) and I to only celebrate one holiday a year: Thanksgiving. It is true, that even this holiday generally means, well up until recently, dinner at a restaraunt as no one cooks. Well, with the recent addition to our family, AF's wife/my sister in law (Mrs. F), M&M and their progeny now have very warm and lovely Thanksgiving dinners.

This year was no exception. I decided that it would be best if I did not show up to this holiday as the typical solo spinster and invited my gay husband A.J. This proved to be an excellent choice and there was not one single comment directed at my looks, my crassness and/or my perpetual singledom as we had company.

What shocked me the most was how knowledgeable my family is on the topic of religion given that none of us have ever expressed any knowledge or interest in the subject matter (This statement does not apply to M squared who a) would have liked his children to be raised religious but fell victim to M's demands and b) even though he is knowledgeable, he rarely speaks). This conversation was engendered by the spiritual topic of my Grandfather I's passing and subsequent cremation in 2003. No one was aware of the fact that Grandpa I's ashes have not been scattered but sit in M's closet in what she describes as something like a garbage bag with Hebrew scripture on it. M explained that when he was first cremated, she was comforted by grabbing a sweater and seeing her father sitting in the corner. Now, when he is in her way, she just pushes him aside and says "oh, I, excuse me."

The major surprise was that M was capable of enlightening her family on the difference between Christianity and Judaism specific to various views of the Messiah. I guess what is going to happen is that the Messiah is going to "fly down to Israel" and pick up all the Jews and say "come on let's go." The only Jew who will not be picked up is me of course as AF pointed out that I probably will be hit by a car on the way to heaven or something. Orthodox Jews around the world are buried with their feet facing Israel "so they can get there quicker." Well, I guess that makes perfect sense and it would be best if and when he (God willing it is a He) comes he also marries me as then M estimates that I would be some type of Queen or legend or something really good.

M also explained that after reading Joan of Arc, she was desperately afraid that God would come to her and ask her to perform some almighty task. Therefore, she slept with the light on up until leaving for college. AF asked what made her think that God would not pay her visit unless the light was off, and she responded "oh i guess you are right. you are so much smarter than me."

The More Things Change, They Stay The Same

As some of my readership might be aware, I thought I would use this year to determine a career path. The gig is up. I wasted the entire year. I explained this situation to my therapist. Most of our sessions are focused on what are some of my aspirations. Usually I lie. The last session was no exception, I told her I wanted to be editor in chief of a publication. I definitely do not want that type of responsibility, not as though anyone would bestow me with such a conflict of interest. The only reason I thought of that is because Nico on Lipstick Jungle is editor in chief of a fake publication. What I was really trying to say to my therapist is that I want to be Nico.

Anywho, my therapist came up with a really brilliant idea. She told me that I should take a career test online for free. In our following session we are going to talk about the results. I left feeling pretty awesome about taking an online quiz. After all, most of my days are spent taking online quizzes and unlike in my therapy sessions, I answer these questions accurately.

You can imagine my state of shock when after answering a series of questions in the negative regarding landscaping, building things, supplying things, cleaning things, being outside with things that the results indicated that I should be either a construction worker or a janitor.

I thought about it. And while I am not sure if being an esq. in a reputable firm is anything like being a construction worker or janitor, being an esq. above a dunkin' donuts is very much like being a janitor. Nope, certainly have made no progress this year.

IS THIS BC OF BUSH?

I am so sick and tired of this bloody economy. No for real, I think if there is anyone who has been a victim of this Main Street, Wall Street, Sesame Street nonsense it is me. Last night, over Thanksgiving dinner, when M asked me after telling us her views on religion, if I was aware of how terrible the economy is on account of the amount of shi*ty television I watch. My reply was: "Oh, I am aware, thank you very much M. I have essentially been a temp for a year and a half and before that I was a plumber. I fail to see how me not watching television is going to fix the problem."

Yes certain downturns in the economy have caused me and my loved ones upsets and like the rest of the world I generally blame that lame duck of a president even though we all know that the reason the economy fell apart is because I watch too much television. Regardless, there is one recent "upset" that has made me feel, well, really f*ckin awesome and that is the government bailing out citigroup.

Kids, let me explain. When I was at my previous shithole, my primary responsibility was collecting debt from former employees from citigroup. I am not proud of this. Not in the slightest. I am however well aware of the fact that my debt collection and subsequent release was not all for nothing. As now, I am fairly certain that the government is not going to keep this f*ckin over clogged toilet as part of their advisory, and well with a little prayer and perhaps a flush, we can all say "yes, we can." As perhaps we have cleaned up some pollution.

Now, I am going to take it upon myself to send my condolences. If only Hallmark had a card that has a so "sorry about your loss on the front" and then on the inside a plumber with a big X through it. So here goes nothing.

Dear Stinky,

As a former member of your firm I felt compelled to, well, send my condolences. After three months of persistent debt collection for a bank that probably only retained you because you cost so little, I can imagine that stinky is very upset about this bail out. Fortunately, for me, government bailing out these various companies will engender document review projects. Perhaps I will see you there.

The fact that you "let me go" is all water under the bridge now. I guess in a sense we share that in common.

-C

WELFARE

Nothing like a call from M&M to remind you how pathetic you are. Well, truth be told, I already was well aware of how pathetic I am, but I do like how M&M think I have forgotten.

Anyhow, it has come to my attention that I, in addition to all of the other temps, will soon be out of work. I would like to take this moment to address all candidates and remind them that "Joe, the plumber" makes a killing. You know who does not? Garbage C-can the attorney. You see, in a recent effort to seek comfort from my brethren, I have been asking them what they have been up to since the economy has taken a turn for the worst. I dare say, I am well aware that even legitimate attorneys are taking a hit and there is no reason why those of us who have emerged from sewage should not. However, when real attorneys take a hit, they get like six months severance packages. When garbigities take a hit, they collect unemployment.

Needless to say, M&M were anything but sympathetic to my plight. In their imaginations, I begged to go to law school throughout my childhood and was sitting on the opposite side of the table from Atticus Finch debating the virtues of justice over some juicy cups, well in our case diet sodas and coffee. Well no, M&M that is not what happened at all. In fact, as far back as I can recall Atticus Finch was told he was going to be president and I was told I was going to be a wife and there was no room for arguing this point. I am like ready to kill them because this weekend they reminded me that if I could not make a career for myself, then I am going to have to collect welfare. I needed to remind them that I would not be sitting around five and a half years post college graduation still negotiating a career had I not been rudely interrupted by an institution that carries a worse stigma than a gold star in Nazi Germany.

Well anyhow, so I started thinking about welfare and told them that a) there are many steps one takes before collecting welfare (as exemplified by fellow garbigities who are collecting unemployment) and b) if they let me go on welfare, I will have to bid them farewel(l).

YEAH OKAY I CARE

Last night, d/shit and I took it upon ourselves to become part of the NY Cares organization wherein we will be involved in well, caring.

It occurred to me over the course of this orientation that I have cared for quite some time. As in high school, I volunteered to tutor, assist senior citizens and went to Ghana for Christ's sake. Regardless, I failed to pay too much attention to what this champion of charity was saying up until he started talking about cleaning up garbage/debris in the inner city schools. This is something I might be interested in, but what I really wanted to suggest is that if NY cares so much, why in God's name are they not cleaning up the institution and the soda cans that attend my Alma Mata, Garbage.

Look, am I the only one who really thinks it's not so much Wall Street that should have suffered the direct blow to the economy, but the streets that surround Wall Street as in Lower Broadway, White Street, Chambers, oh and cross street 21st and Broadway where there lies a free standing toilet which will remain nameless?? At least the people who worked on Wall Street have all their limbs and feed themselves with utensils. Additionally, M&M wanted me to marry one.

If NY bloody cares so much, than let's really clean up the streets of Manhattan and advocate that the lower Manhattan as in the toilets that lie in or around Wall Street are plunged. In an effort to jump start this mission, I am going to contact my NY cares team leader with the following project:

On 10/17/08, I suggest we all meet at the 1/9 stop on Franklin Street Stop and march over to the nearest academic institution with shovels, hard hats and clean up the debris. Then, sell the space to NYU.

Go F Yourself.

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Certain People Should Be Put Down

While I am well aware of the fact that euthanasia is illegal in the United States, I often wonder what it is that is so god damn wrong with it. No, I do not even mean to use it for people who are on their death beds and are suffering, although I do think that is an appropriate use of said poison, I think it should be used for people who do not deserve the death penalty, but that we can all agree deserve to be put down.

I was inspired by this after just reading an article regarding Project Runway which delightfully made fun of Kenley who I have been wishing for weeks would somehow get tetanus from her sewing machine, and, well, just go away. However, it would also be perfectly fine by me if Tim Gunn came by with a lethal injection after she made yet another hideous outfit and put her out of her misery.

Regardless, in terms of real life, it has recently come to my attention that I know of several people who the world would be a far better place without. I will not go into details, but there is one specific person I have met in my lifetime who most certainly deserves to be put down. I have been informed by former co-workers that a woman, oh let's just call her Trixie, who was a raging bitch to me while at this shithole and undeniably was part of my demise, has taken quite the liking to my male replacement. Oh yes, Trixie girl is married with two babies, but apparently there are massages and dinner dates being exchanged. I have no doubt that the subject of her affection is dumber than a lamp post as I have met him, and well, there was an argument which ensued as to which one of us went to a worst law school (he did). However, his strapping good looks and rather grotesque accent has attracted Trixie and certainly she is not spreading rumors around this toilet as to how incompetent he is.

Well Trixie, now that I have had time to reflect, here is what I have to say to you. My apologies about your recent f*Ck up of a case as we both know that when I put a comma in the wrong place you informed me that I was a sloppy lawyer, but what I really wanted to say to you is that Eve is on her last limbs. No, I am not kidding, M has called me and told me that she is no longer urinating and hiding underneath the bed. WELL, I was thinking that when M takes her into to be put down, perhaps you would consider me taking you in to also be put down? Meow.

Why I Will Remain Single, Part 1

Allow me to preface my first ever post by saying ‘Welcome’ and that I’m not an angry person. I don’t, however, suffer fools. I do, however, use lots of commas. I also tend not to share my innermost thoughts with anyone other than the slobs and my multiple personalities. But yesterday I stumbled across something so alarming, so frightening, that in the interest of protecting others around me I am compelled to blog it out.

An old “friend” and current virtual Facebook friend (sense the limitations) is on the cusp of marriage. God help her. Now, from what I can tell by investigating her page, she is happy about these developments. In fact, from what I can discern, this is something she’s been waiting for with bated breath, as she’s fielded various horrifying public comments speaking to her “relief” that she’s “finally engaged.” I am loosely happy for her, the way I am when an impacted molar is removed or someone’s chronic pain is mollified by a morphine drip. It’s a quick fix. But what I’ve realized since scanning her wedding website is that it’s not the wedding that typically sickens me, or the outrageous industry that’s sprung up as an excuse for women to leave their jobs and plan a party. Okay, that does sicken me. But really, I’m mostly opposed to sharing the limelight.

Let me again offer up some facts. First, I will not be invited to said wedding, as I have not spoken to the deb in question in decades. Remember, this is virtual friendship we’ve nurtured. Second, I’m on professional holiday, and as such, have little to do with my time other than view my series of televised teen-dramas. Ahem. And let’s face it, Facebook has offered unsuspecting and previously productive lasses like myself the chance to waste entire days perusing frenemies’ vacation pics and photos from weddings to which we were never invited. For the most part, I’m content with the time suck.

Okay, so why I don’t believe in outlandish and extravagant affairs celebrating your predilection for life-long monogamous sex: Why share a party?

History: Growing up my birthday fell fatefully on the same day as another girl in school who I detested more than the threat of back acne. Our grandmothers, however, were very close friends; old hags who played Mah-Jongg and smelled like Welsh Rarebit. Because of their affection for one another--and inability to drive long distances whereby they may make new friends--they believed we should be best friends as well. There was a constant pressure to have joint-birthday parties, a threat I took as seriously as that wink you might get before being hauled off to the Gulag. Again and again, I declined.

But even now, as you’re adult-like and somewhat financially viable, why must you be forced to share a wedding party with another person? Would you not rather keep all the gifts to yourself? And, if like this affianced childhood friend, you’ve gone to the necessary trouble to throw together a 500-person, black tie event with 12 bridesmaids and counting in three days time, would you really want to share the attention with some slobbish (hetero), and in time, cuckolded man who would never appreciate this?

And moreover, why would you want to force your (presumably) twelve closest friends to don the same hideous dress? My friends have more flare, and at least half the fun of any party is watching them assemble an ensemble befitting the occasion.

Ladies, if you relent and share this most important day of your life with another person, you will spend the rest of your life making compromises until you don’t even know who you are anymore, and stand waiting at the sperm clinic in an effort to marginalize this chap and change the locks on your door. Is this unromantic? No. A party is a party, dammit.

Next time: Why 12 bridesmaids is larger than my entire guest list.

When I cry, I am God Forsaken Busted

I just finished watching the Hills and as much as I think none of these girls are anything to write home about, I can not help but notice that when these bitches cry, they cry black tears and look prettier than I do. ever. Even when I have just freshly applied six layers of whatever mascara LC said I need to wear in order to look just like her, I am still uglier than that bitch when she is having a tsunami coming out of her eye balls.

I am so sick and tired of turning on this stupid show, losing twenty brain cells and then wondering how I can look more like them. The problem is that if I were to make an appearance on the show, LC would not only put me in the extra house for Audrina, she would put me in a god damn kitty litter box as a) I would be like their not so cool older friend b) my breasts combined are about the same size as one of Heidi's and c) I am so freakin pale and not blonde it is frightening.

However the major problem is that when I cry, I am mother f&ckin busted. It is true, I have always imagined that I can woo some boy by shedding some tears and even using some of LC's lines like "gee, I thought we were friends and I am so sick and tired of having friends who don't like me." However, after whatever eligible bachelor leaves, I go to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror and realize I look nothing like LC when I cry. I look more like a swamp creature than anything. There is no makeup that can resolve that problem.

Are We at the Zoo?

After a long talk with M&M this weekend wherein they told me that the real reason that I am single is that I have not been exposed to legitimate prospects, I yelled at them and demanded that they get out of my basement. After the mild temper tantrum I threw, I reflected on my history and decided that it is true, I have mingled only with sub-humans since I was roughly twenty four. Before I was twenty four, I mingled with mostly sub-humans interspersed with some homo sapiens.

As it turns out, I have probably have "dated" (I use this term very loosely as I am not sure what other people consider dating) a quarter of Manhattan degenerates with the hopes that they do not know any better but to date me. It is true that I am in no position to negotiate these prospects given that it is has been roughly a year since I have held down a job. Okay, that is a lie. It has been roughly twenty seven years since I have held down a legitimate job. Perhaps if you do not have a legitimate job, you also do not have legitimate "boyfriends?" I thought about why I have allowed my standards to drop so low and decided it might be a defense mechanism. If I were to come across a legitimate homo sapien, I might find that he has other prospects that are superior to me. However, this theory does not hold up given that not even these homeless people want to date me and pass me up for lesser prospects.

So what gives? I posed the question to E who also has had similar luck on the "dating front" and she simply asked "what makes you think that you deserve to date anything aside from sub-humans?" It is true. She is right and in my free time I am going to the zoo to pick out my next boyfriend.

When It Rains, It also Shits

Well, well, well this has been the worst week of my life. After a week of unemployment, I have come to understand that I am way more productive member of society when I have nothing to do during the day. This week has been exceptionally hectic, what with forcing myself to go to the gym because there is no excuse not to, doing my own laundry because there is no excuse not to, and showering on a constant basis, I am bloody exhausted.

The major upset has been the past twenty four hours when I learned that my computer is infected with the HIV virus. Look kids, if you ever get a call from M squared and he tells you to download Norton at the time of purchase as in 2007, just do it. Don't fuck around and wait until your computer no longer turns on and when it does projects rainbows on the screen, download when M squared tells you to. Because if you don't, you might end up like me: unemployed 600 dollars poorer. That's right, I just dropped 600 dollars to repair this piece of shit.

When I called M to tell her about this crisis, she did not seem remotely bothered. In fact, she was happy that something in my life was fixable as everything else seems so destitute and hopeless. When I told her this was clearly not the time to tell me how pathetic my life is, she told me that she did not find me pathetic because I do not have a job as after all she has never had one and is impressed that I have had one at all.

707.47

Well I should be ashamed of myself. No really, I should. I have sacrificed my job (my blog) for my job(which no longer exists). After three months of complete agony and being yelled at constantly for making administrative computation errors I "have been laid off." My apologies to my readeriship, but I am back. Less than successful as ever as now I am not even a temp.

I know my readership was counting on me. After a year of looking for a job and finally finding one, it seems rather absurd that their champion should lose the opprotunity. Well, let me be frank. I never claimed to be good at what I intended to do, lawyer. The only reason I am here in the first place is because M&M forced me to go to law school to meet a husband. Now, I am not creative enough to rediscover a new career. Truth be told, this was 100% not my fault. I was disliked entirely. I am well aware of my charms and my virtues, however, I never claimed to be able to get along with a group of women. Look, I am not one of those girls who imagines that they inspire jealousy in other women and thus have only male friends. I am however one of those girls who has a dirty mouth, is quite crass and is able to mingle better with the less proper sex. While I seemingly will remain single for life, I most certainly will always have a group of male friends scattered with a few females who share my taste for being absolutely disgusting.

Regardless, after much debate, I realize that there was not much at stake here. I was a debt collector who made 707.47 per week. It is true, that this rare breed of shithole also represented a strip club across the street which I would have been happy to represent. However, something about me read debt collector. Perhaps it was the garbagely stench that I exuded. Regardless, I have come up with a plan inspired by dipshit. I am going to apply for a job at the strip club where the firm's holiday party takes place. Come Christmas time, I am going to straddle one of the partners and offer a lap dance. When they ask how much, I will reply "707.47."

I am Okay With Nine Digits

Last week, M&M told me that if I am not married within two years, they are done with me. At first, I thought to myself, good riddance. I am so sick and tired of the weekend phone calls wherein I am told I am pathetic and disgusting because I am single. However, after much consideration, I did decide there was a problem with having no M&M contact. Mainly, who the F is going to support me when I am still making 1.00 a day like a lawyer in Somalia with a distended stomach?

Anyhow, so I came up with a plan. I am going to marry my friend M, Jr. Ladies, he is not exactly a keeper. Sure, we make great companions, but for the love of Christ he is sluttier than I am, is entirely incapable of remaining faithful and quite frankly, I am not going to ask him to remain faithful. I condone him cheating on me because I hope to God that he will still set me up with all of his friends and really I can't be left with just him. A bloody nightmare, I tell you. M, Jr. is entirely okay with this plan provided M&M buy us an apartment, a wedding ring and he is free to sit around and live his life as he has grown accustomed to, as a lazy sack of shit. Of course when I called M&M with the good news and the parameters of this deal, they had no problems in essentially buying M, Jr. as their daughter's husband.

Okay, so just when I started adjusting to the fact that this i my fate, I started feeling this tingling sensation in my left ring finger. This sensation has progressed to a sorta numbness and I started thinking about that commercial on MTV "I lost all my fingers because I smoked too many cigarettes." However, then I started really thinking about it and decided my fiance smokes way more cigarettes, even smokes when he is unconscious, and has all of his fingers. Ultimately, I believe these are the higher powers telling me that this finger is absolutely useless. I can no longer feel it because I do not need it.

I Thought You Would Be Happy For Me

It has recently come to my attention that I suffer from extreme A.D.D. I know people throw this diagnosis around casually, but they really have no idea what they are talking about. Folks, you do not know you have A.D.D. until you have a formal confirmation like I do. Lately, I have been given these assignments at my "firm" where I am asked to do "calculations." As a side note, I am sort of a debt collector. At first this seemed rather glamorous working on "big bank" accounts, but now I realize that collecting debt from financial advisors is in not any different than being the repo man. In fact, it is worse.

Regardless, after making a series of demands to these poor individuals to cough up some change, the junior partner came into my office and asked me to recite the order of the months. When I excelled at this task, he asked then why did I think in a letter I was about to circulate June came after August? Then he asked me to repeat what he had just asked me to make sure I was paying attention. Well, I had no logical explanation until he said the following: "You have severe A.D.D. and I need you to focus. This task is not hard, filling in numbers amongst a form letter. You should be embarrassed." Well, yes I was kind of embarrassed. Not embarrassed as I should be, as now I am disclosing this information to the Internet, but at the time, I most certainly was and had to quickly call d/shit to meet me for drinks at four o’clock in the afternoon.

When I spoke about this with my therapist she did not bat an eyelash. I was most certainly expecting her to disagree with him, but she merely said "Well, are you surprised?" When I explained that I have suspected this much, but failed to disclose that I have been taking "study enhancing drugs" without a formal prescription just to hail a cab, she asked me "Have you ever considered time released Aderoll or Ritalin?"

JUST BRILLIANT. Of course I have been considering the merits of these drugs for the longest time, but have had to go about the strangest methods of obtaining them, i.e. calling Dr. Y (M&M's psychiatrist and drug dealer) to give me some goodies right around exam time. To think that next week I am about to walk into a psychiatrist's office and check off a list and obtain said meds on a regular basis which will last up to eight hours to help me be a better debt collector is just what the doctor ordered, literally.

Of course I had to tell my gay husband the good news and he could not have been more ecstatic and thanked me for taking one for the team. When I told E the jolly news, she asked "if I was okay?" Got to love E, she is so good to me. For the record, E, I am fine and better than I have ever been in my entire life.

WELL IF SKADDEN IS EMBARASSED

It has recently come to my attention that a series of douche bags at Skadden have started ranking their fellow associates' hotness. While I do not exactly condone the behavior, I am a bit of the school of thought that this girl who was nominated the hottest associate IS NOT SO EMBARRASSED. Look, ladies let's all be honest with each other. I was not embarrassed, nor were any of my friends even if they claimed to feel degraded, to be highlighted in my freshman year's facebook. While I certainly did not deserve the attention and was later told by my lame ass boyfriend that he did it himself because "I looked angry hot," I certainly welcomed this nomination. Quite frankly, if I were not highlighted in the freshman class M&M would have pulled me off campus within the first month.

With that in mind, I am a bit disgusted by the balls on this blondie. Not only does this whore work at Skadden and make more money than I ever will see in my life, but apparently she is also hot. I sure hope she is just really photogenic and this is not some way of God telling me that good things come in 181 LSAT packages. Am I supposed to think: "Oh, poor girl. She makes 4524535235352352 a year for doing document review, is smart and is also considered really hot by her fellow very eligible bachelors?" No, I do not think so.

For the record, none of my fellow garbigities are circulating such a nomination in my favor. Furthermore, what in God's name does Skadden have to be embarrassed about? A bloody blog? Really, I am sitting at my current dumpster as we speak drafting a blog about what it is like to be only a quarter of an attorney with a salary that is comparable to an exterminator's. If Skadden's hiring partner finds the firm's culture an embarrassment, he should spend a day in my flip flops. Yes, that is right, I can wear flip flops to work.

PUT ME DOWN

YES, that is right, I am going to be homeless. I know my readership was set on the fact that I was going to live with the lesbian, but God Damn it, it is not going to work. This has all come to a head in the past twenty four hours. Aside from the fact that I truly want to kill myself and almost projected myself out of the sixteenth floor of my office after deciding that my law firm has no business being in the neighborhood it is situated, I spent the entire afternoon looking at studios with M.

M tried to put me in a studio next to a convent and a police station presuming I would be very protected in such a location. When I refused because a) I do not want my drug addict friends not to come over because they are afraid they will be arrested and b)because, hello, are you near here? I can not live next to a convent. That being said, M was dissuaded the moment we walked in because the previous tenant was clearly a Muslim (there was Muslim peraphanelia surrounding the apartment). M asked the broker if they allowed Jews to move into the building. When I explained to M that the previous tenant has no say on who or what lives in the building, she quickly told me that this was not acceptable living conditions as it was bad karma for a Jew to live in an apartment that was previously habitated by a Muslim. As everyone knows ALL Muslims hate Jews.

Regardless, I was not set on the apartment either. However, I could tell M was preoccupied and not giving me the full scrutiny usually afforded to me when we interact alone. When I asked M what the problem was, she explained to me that she has to put Eve down (our parapalegic cat). Okay, this is the ninth time in the five years since Eve being hit by a car by M squared that M has threatened that she has to put Eve down. However, I think this time it might be for real. As apparently Eve no longer has the power to urinate. Poor thing, she probably has wanted to die for years, but M has kept her alive by way of multiple cathaters and orafaces being created for her to use to excavate her bladder. When I asked M what would make her feel better, she replied by putting me down instead.

I KNOW

My apologies, my readership, but I am back. Better late than never. Truth be told, I was a bit hesitant blogging about my unsuccess when I am supposed to not consider making less money than I did as a temp success. Regardless, here. I. am.

Let me preface this by saying that this is by and large the best legal experience I have ever had. We all know this does not say much, for if someone were to put me at the closest one train stop and my job was to ensure that no one shared their metro card with someone else, as yes it is illegal, this would exceed all legal jobs I have ever had. In fact, I might not even have reason to blog.

That being said, this job is surely a winner. Garbage cans, I surely have discovered a hidden gem. It only took me a week and a half to adjust to this supermarket wherein there is no direct deposit set up because it is just that ghetto and they forget to pay you on some occasions. Why, just last Friday, I went to ask our "office manager" where my pay check was (we retrieve it from her desk every Friday after handing in our billing) and she apologized to me, or Christine, as that is what she calls me (not my name), but the head partner had forgotten to pay me. All was resolved within four hours, but she told me that next time I should remind him that I work here. This event proceeded the hour when us garbage cans (yes very eco friendly this place) were stuck outside near the freight elevator which is adjacent to two dumpsters. The reason for this bind was there is only one working elevator in the building and it was out of service. The freight elevator does in fact work at all times, but will not necessarily open to the floor where I am so comfortably litigating.

This is all very lovely, but here is a major gripe. When I first interviewed at the firm, one of the head partners told me there is something in the water (which I suspected was a toxin related to a pipe explosion), that makes all of the women in the firm get pregnant in or around the same time. This did not bother me in the slightest as, well, I figure if I am not pregnant by now, I must be infertile. When I told M&M this, they told me I surely should not worry because no one is taking to me bed as I am a spinster. Little do they know that this past month has been filled with slutatious behavior in celebration of employment, but fine. Because according to M&M I never will have the opportunity to be pregnant I took it upon myself to have a thorough discussion today in the bathroom stalls with one of the baby's mamas ("support staff") regarding their experience. She explained to me that "the problem with this f*ckin kid is it's sittin' on my bladda making me have to piss all da' time which is why you see me in here so often." I said that did not sound so bad and decided I want one.

Father's Day Brunch

Nothing like Father's Day brunch with M&M to remind Atticus Finch, my sister-in-law, my spouse roommate and me how lucky we are to have them as parents and in-laws. Atticus Finch chose a local little cafe to have brunch at in M squared' honor. After the initial discussion regarding menu options, M announced that she would not be eating but would just order a coffee. This did not shock any of the respective parties. For, as far as all of us can remember, M has never consumed a meal, at least in public. Atticus Finch wanted to order a sandwich with tomato on it, but M informed Atticus Finch and the rest of the table that he simply can not as yesterday a tomato caused M squared to suffer from diarrhea. There, there M squared, I am glad you could rise to the occasion for your family.

Regardless, the major discussion is not so much what happened over the course of brunch, but what proceeded it in the newly weds apartment. (For the record, if my future roommates ever reads my blog, I just wanted to let you know, D, that you should not take this at all personally. M&M have nothing, really, against homosexuals. However, you might not know this much if you overheard this discussion.) I explained to M&M that one of my future flat mates,D, who I think is just delightful, is a lesbian. This does not bother me in the slightest. In fact, I celebrate it and wish I was one. When D dropped the L bomb on me, I was quick to respond with a "good for you" and reinforce this with "one more year single in this city and I will also be a homosexual." When I explained to M&M how adorable D is and that she is very bright; graduate from Carnegie Melon and computer engineer, M&M were quick to tell me that all female computer engineers are lesbians and went to Carnegie Melon. Why? Because mainly all computer lesbian engineers like Pennsylvania. This is actually very ironic. Let me explain. You see, after my freshman year when I had failed to meet a husband at age nineteen, M&M practically forced me to go to Carnegie Melon where I had been accepted as a transfer student (As in M&M filled out a transfer application and sent it to this institution). Of course, I did not allow them to proceed with this arrangement, but it had little to do with lesbians. It actually had more to do with the fact that I was happy to not be married at age nineteen. In retrospect it is a good thing that I did not go because not only would I end up single, I would end up a lesbian computer engineer.

What never ceases to amaze me however is that M&M, despite all evidence to the contrary, obviously, think of me as being exceptionally vulnerable. It is true that I have a few mishaps in my life that generally do not happen to the lucky; i.e. I broke my jaw my sophomore year in college after a serious bout of tonsillitis, I was hit by a drunk driver my third year in law school. This all might be true, but it is not like every moment I walk outside the apartment I have been raped and or in near danger of being raped. Let me clarify this for you M&M, no one is raping me. Quite to the contrary, no one has sex with me, and vise versa, unless both parties are quite inebriated. In a sense, this is not voluntary, but it is consensual. Therefore, you need not worry that D, my one hundred pound roommate, is going to come into my room with a strap on and rape me. In fact, I am not entirely sure I am her type and she is in a relationship. This is similar to your line of thinking that I have had a hundred marriage proposals and have rejected them all. NO! NO! NO!

Regardless, an hour was devoted to how I am not going to escape the various sexual threats I am going to have to deal with on a daily basis. While M squared did not really think that there was a serious problem, M thought that perhaps I might be in the wrong place at the wrong time. As in, oh I just might happen to be in D's room while she is having sex with her girlfriend and oh, they ask me to join. YES, very likely possiblity. However, do not worry everyone. M has come up with a solution: The moment I enter the apartment I must falsely announce to everyone that I have AIDS. Then, no one will touch me.

Rude Awakening

Well, well, well after four days of searching for an apt/roomie and finally stumbling upon success with two ladies in or around my current address, it has come to my attention that there are just not that many mes out there. The first group of ladies did not hide their disgust with me the slightest when I told them that I would not be having my non existent boyfriend stay on their couch because he does not exist. When they asked me how long it is since I have been in a relationship and I said twenty seven years because while I was in my mother's womb I felt very connected to M they were not remotely amused. Well, quite frankly, neither was I. I was not remotely amused when multiple mates had warned me that they never came home later than one AM or brought home visitors or walked around naked. I was also not remotely amused to be walking around in the schorching heat and climbing several walk ups only to find that some weird earthy types had no air conditioning.

Regardless, next time I post an ad on craig's I have decided that this is the way the I am going to post:

Slightly slutty female looking to bond with other twenty somethings over wine, sex or cigarettes. Does not plan on cleaning, not even an iota, will never use the kitchen and only sometimes shower. Will try not to smoke in the apartment or your bedroom, but cant make any promises. Also, most likely will invest in a puppy, kitten and/or midget.

I am a slob

After a year of not working, I decided I am entitled to two days off from not working.

Your Atmosphere is Contagious

Regular STD & HIV testing is an unwelcomed, but necessary part of being a sexually active 20 something in Manhattan. I understand the 'sexually active' part of this statement may not be entirely true, seeing as though the 'active-ness' takes quite frequent and long breaks.
In any case, after a rare form trip to LA over a month ago, it was only appropriate to follow up with the standard sex check up. Having quit my job & living under new disciplined conditions of spending, I decided to get my check up at the Chelsea Free Health Clinic. For those of you who have not been there (which is 98% of our readership), it is the condemned looking building that was renamed after the health commissioner found it infested with rats (source: google). Another sure fire way to recognize the building is by it's many lawn decorations, otherwise known as homeless people.
While most of Chelsea & Midtown Manhattan is littered with homeless people and/or people that resemble homeless people, the Chelsea Health Clinic in fact fills its front lawn with an overwhelming amount of real homeless people. While Im all up for the decision to not work, I will say being the minority in a park full of people really makes me think twice about being unemployed. Yes, I currently live in an apartment & have a room to call my own, but am I steps away from reverting to living on the Chelsea Free Health Clinic steps? And moreover, if I don't have an STD or HIV as I approach the building, is it possible to contract one as I step over a homeless man, or brush up against a drunk homeless man, or open the door after a homeless man?
- this could be one seriously effective abstinence campaign.

Gee, I wonder Why We Are All Bloody Single?

Since I have not been searching for a job, I have been searching for a roommate. Some of you might know this, but my roommate of five years, E, has finally decided to get herself a studio. Well good for bloody her, I certainly am not. For, undeniably I need a roommate to babysit me. It was just this past weekend at my college reunion that I left my credit card at the bookstore because E was not there to remind me to ask for it back. Quite frankly, I am used to being "broken up with" by not really significant others. Why it was just three days before E announced her planned departure someone told me that having sex is a very friendly thing to do and does not see any reason why I would think otherwise. With respect to E, however, I have done nothing wrong. I did not put out too early, I did not ask to sleep with one of her friends and or have a threesome, I did not even get really drunk and by accident grab her crotch. Ultimately, I have been good to E and while I do profess my love for her an unusual amount of times per day, it is just because I have really strong feelings for her.

Well fine. This quest is by and large been a lot better than searching for a job. For the most part, every time I see a 20 something yr old looking for a roommate I get excited that this will lead to in the case of a female, a drinking buddy, or in the case of a male, a "cuddle" buddy and drinking buddy after a long day at the office. This has been all going fine and dandy until I came across this ad:

_____________________________________________________________________________________
free room for a beautiful brainy submissive (SoHo)


Pay no rent in return for taking care of a wide range of responsibilities around the house. ideally im seeking a student of artist with a decent amount of flex time. serious inquiries only and you must send a pic and details about yourself in the first email or no reply.

Attraction and chemistry between us is essential.

Very handsome SWM here. You must be 18 to 30 with a sharp mind, organized, stylish, obedient.

You will be living in a fabulous neighborhood, nice apartment and be granted plenty of freedom to carry on your normal life as long as you attend well to your duties.

(P.S. See the ad at http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/roo/702263994.html to get a view of the rather suggestive of picture on the bottom)

_____________________________________________________________________________________
It is true, that if I was a bit more confident, I would probably respond to this ad. I mean quite frankly this would solve a lot of my problems. While I would still have the ability to be single, I would probably no longer have random trysts and I might very well just become a full time literary agent if I do not have to worry about living expenses. That being said, if said handsome man is posting a craig's list ad to find a f*ck buddy in the city of Manhattan where there are more desperate 20 something year old women than there are Starbucks, the question becomes who is the man behind this ad and can I do the same thing?

So, I too am going to post an ad that reads like this:

"Very funny slender pale red head looking for a boyfriend/husband/f*ck buddy to share one bedroom. Male must be at least 6'1 and make more money than God. Has to at least feign that it matters whether or I live or die and be open to the possibility of getting a puppy. Must tolerate drinking, smoking and anything else I chose to consume in the apartment. Sometimes has to go with me to events where it is not okay to be single."

Duh

Leaving your house in red stretch pants with no underwear and a tank with no bra is not appropriate unless, possibly, if you live in Chelsea & are a gay man trying to get laid outside your front steps.
Living anywhere else in Manhattan & doing this is retarded... living in Soho & doing this should get you put in jail. My lapse of judgement & un-realization of what I was wearing as I left my Soho apartment this morning, ended up causing quite a stream of unhappy moments. The 1st was walking out of my front door & straight onto the set of Wesley Snipes new movie, which was quite an interruption & caused everyone to yell and scream & beg me to hurry off set. As I confusingly ran off set/my front stoop, I managed to head in the right direction towards the mailbox where I was headed. In the one block it takes to walk to drop off mail, I was screamed at by a homeless person, harassed by that guy Corky from Life Goes On, and had 2 waiters from Mezzogiorno stand outside the front door & laugh at me.
This is just the first 15 minutes of my day...

REDEMPTION!!

Kudos to you Oprah - I knew you would pull through...

Oprahs Mission Calendar Inspiration:
No matter what our age or condition, there are still untapped possibilities within us and new beauty waiting to be born.

—Dale E. Turner

You're obviously smoking too much Pot Matthew Fox

Oprah's Daily Mission Calendar Inspiration:

There is no end to the beauty for the person who is aware. Even the cracks between the sidewalk contain geometric patterns of amazing beauty.
-Matthew Fox

Girl Crush (Official)

It is no surprise that my dating life circa NYC move has been less than successful & I have unofficially removed myself from any serious form of dating all together. Having said that, I'd like to announce my most recent crush & love, which ironically feels about as real as anything I've felt since moving to New York...

Teddy

It has come to my attention that something good can not happen to me without something bad also happening to me. I do not care that others have told me that this is directly related to some false notions I have about the world conspiring against me because these notions are not false if it is true. It is true that I have had some ups and downs these past two weeks, but these downs have all been made up for by the fact that I have been offered employment.

However, directly after receiving an offer, I have been experiencing symptoms that I have self diagnosed as being an ulcer. I am okay with this, except for the fact that my college reunion is this weekend and I am not exactly considering curbing my drinking/smoking cigarettes and/or other substance intake in the immediate future. My readership might be aware of this, but M&M combined have about seventy prescriptions. This variety includes ones to moderate their craziness, but one of these prescriptions I am well aware of is to moderate M's ability to drink seven lattes a day as her meals and take her various drugs to control her "pain" and "neurosis." This drug is prevacid. Some of you might also be aware of the fact that because I grew up in a "medical" household, I consider myself perfectly capable of making some sound medical decisions and know that the drug I need is in fact prevacid to moderate my symptoms.

Fine, so I took it upon myself to call M&M and tell them my problem. M&M have never been ones to resist giving their children necessary drugs. All throughout college and law school Atticus Finch and I were adequately supplied with drugs to increase our attention and performance on academic endeavors. So I really did not think that asking for something to ease my digestive track should be treated as though I was asking for crack. However, I should have known that the moment they heard I was going to my college reunion; they would revoke their offer as I failed to meet my husband the four years I spent on campus. Therefore, it seems unlikely that a return to this misery for a weekend will bring me such luck. Furthermore, they could not believe that anyone but complete spinster losers were returning and presumed that Dipshit (recently married friend) was not going because why would she? Ultimately, they demanded that I go see Teddy (our seventy five year old cousin who also happens to be a GI specialist) to get the prescription. Obviously, I must go to Teddy where I can be treated for free because no self-respecting physician takes the welfare insurance I pay four hundred dollars a month for.

While I appreciate M&M's thinly veiled earnest suggestion, my major gripe is that Teddy treats primarily eighty year old orthodox Jews in the projects. I know this because two weeks ago I went to go see Teddy for my tonsillitis and was stuck in the waiting room between two wheel chaired geriatrics yelling in Yiddish only interrupted by quick naps. The truth is, Atticus Finch and I can go see Teddy provided that our complaints have nothing to do with his specialty; Gastroenterology. Because if your gripe, as is the case with mine, has anything to do with a digestive problem Teddy tries to guilt you into getting a colonoscopy after telling you that you are an alcoholic. While M&M think this is perfectly acceptable, I have tried to explain to them that my other friends who are in their twenties and have had similar complaints have never been treated so aggressively. Teddy is not wrong per se, for when one of his usual ninety five yr. old patients complains about let us say heart burn, their heart is most likely about to give out.

Here is my major concern, because I refused to undergo Teddy's battery of tests the last time I consulted him on some similar digestive related matter, I believe that his distribution of the prevacid is contingent upon these tests. I will have to report back, but in the event this is true, I am going to tell M&M that my reading of M's revised novel is contingent upon M undergoing these tests for me. No one will notice.

Does Anyone Hear Me?

Three weeks ago M&M told me not to contact them unless I have "good news." I should have asked them to qualify what they meant by "good news." Because quite frankly I thought receiving an invitation to use a degree that they manipulated me into getting was at least sort of good news. It is true, that I am not exactly thrilled about the prospect of this either, but bitter sweet aside, they should be proud that their daughter was capable of fooling said establishment into believing that she really wanted to lawyer.

M&M were not remotely phased by this announcement. In fact, I think they were offended. It is true that we have had back and forth about my next career move. In fact, when a 22 yr. old co-temp got a job as a legal assistant at cravath, M&M thought this would be a good career move for me because then at least I would be presented with the prospect of meeting a cravath lawyer and ultimately getting married. When I tried to explain to them that this would essentially mean career suicide for me, they tried to explain to me that at age thirty I most likely would commit suicide if I was still single. Ultimately, career suicide is better than plain suicide.

Regardless, I should have known that M&M would not be thrilled about the prospect of me lawyering. For one thing, M&M were semi excited about the literary agency position. When I explained to them I see no reason why I can not still be an agent part time, they were semi relieved as they suspect that I will be able to publish M's tragic novel. More than that, however, they reinforced that when they said they wanted to hear only "good news" they meant they wanted to hear that I was engaged to be married. However, they did think it was quite possible that I would meet my husband at a deposition as they have heard of this happening. So, it is sorta good news.

It makes no Difference

Today, I have formally accepted a job at a law firm. My readership might be worried that this will somehow distract from my blogging. However, may I remind you that most of my blogging has been inspired by this field. In fact, if anything, because I am about to re-immerse myself in the culture, I anticipate a series of blogs that are based on my interactions with my clientele.

One might wonder, C, what would inspire you to take on a legal job? Well, kids, it took a lot. The most important reason is that the firm is down the block from my apartment. Because I will be making approximately a dollar a day, I can not afford transportation. The other reason is that I noticed the head partner had a bottle of Whiskey, a bottle of Bacardi and a bottle of Vodka in his office with shot glasses. This made me feel right at home. However, the major reason this job is amazing is because one of the lawyers who interviewed me today relayed to me the following information: There was another candidate under serious consideration who had graduated from a legitimate institution. Because I have not, I had to convince her why I was worthy. This was close to impossible, but I fooled her.

Some of my readers have contacted me today and told me I no longer can claim that I am less than successful. What I would like to make clear to those of you who have suggested this much is that while I may no longer be a temp, I most certainly remain truly unsuccessful. As by taking a position as an attorney, I will be making less money than I did as a temp. So there, I remain truly yours and entirely unsuccessful.

Whoop Dee Do

Its official - C has been offered employment. While we are thrilled to see her leave the cubicle for a shot at health benefits & paid vacations, it is a difficult & new challenge for lessthansuccessful. Her contributing effort will be continued however, & many trials & tribulations are sure to incur.
Congrats C! We only had a slight doubt you could do it

Lots of love,
eM