Welcome to the NIGHTMARE

Oh, GOD. Ok, fine, I’ll update.

I promise, I had all kinds of great ideas for this next post. And by “all kinds of great ideas” I mean “one.” I was going to talk about the VMAs, which I didn’t even mean to watch, but it just sort of happened. I was going to praise Lady Gaga’s sartorial choices, except for the meat dress, which I don’t think she thought out very well, and then I was going to complain about Taylor Swift, Justin Beiber, and all the rappers I didn’t know. Obviously, it was going to be epic.

But then I had this thing called a “wake up call.” You know, where you have a good idea to talk to someone, and then that person basically tells you that the last two years of your life have been pointless and your grades don’t matter, and that what you should have been doing is socializing and volunteering to play with puppies, and pretty much everything else you would have RATHER have been doing than studying, but you didn’t because you thought that getting good grades and being on Law Review were what would get you a job, and now you have to spend every free moment “putting yourself in front of law firms” and networking and stuff, and also your resume, which you thought was pretty sweet for a 26 year old, is actually NOTHING and WHY HAVEN’T YOU BEEN DOING ANYTHING WITH YOUR LIFE and YOU BETTER START MAKING PEOPLE TALK TO YOU AND THEN PRETEND TO ASK FOR THEIR ADVICE SO THAT SOMEDAY THEY WILL REMEMBER YOUR NAME AND MAYBE TELL SOMEONE ABOUT YOU SO THAT SOMEONE MIGHT HIRE YOU AND YOU WON’Y HAVE TO WORK AT COSTCO UNTIL YOU’RE 62. YOU DON’T EVEN VOLUNTEER. ARE YOU SELFISH OR SOMETHING? HAVE FUN WORKING AT COSTCO. I mean, the career counselor didn’t scream like that, but that is how my brain is remembering the conversation.

I guess what is really disappointing is that I thought the most terrifying year of my life was my first year of law school. NO. It’s actually the year before you graduate. Because really, there is not much you can do about your GPA now, you still have to keep showing up at class, you still have to put in the time in Law Review, but NOW you get to wake up in cold sweats in the middle of the night hyperventilating because you dreamed you were decorating a sheet cake at Basha’s and you had WRINKLES. Oh, and also, the lights in your hallway at the apartment you still live in are out.

My wake-up call was really more of a "Wake up, your nightmare is about to become a reality if you don't get it in gear, because you don't know anyone and you have been wasting your time worrying about dumb stuff like grades." I have been spending every free minute since then working to rectify this, and that does not leave much time for blogging.

So this whole post is just to tell you that I haven’t forgotten about you. Hi! I miss you! But also to let you know that my crazy boyfriend who mentioned that I should apparently be updating this thing 2 times a week is going to be disappointed because THAT WILL NOT BE HAPPENING. (Also, why? I do not understand what the magical 2 posts a week thing will accomplish. Oh, and p.s., I had another blog topic in mind, and that was going to be about how much this blog would suck for you if I had to write two posts a week. That makes two epic posts I was going to write but didn't because if I stop planning my "networking" for a minute, I start hyperventilating.) So, bear with me! I promise to stick with this thing. Someday, I’ll be chronicling my career at Costco on it, probably.

Oh, let’s be real. I would never work at Costco. I’m more of an AJ’s girl.

Summer days, slippin' away

Ah, Labor Day. Nice to see you again. Everyone always says you’re a fake holiday (okay, I say you’re a fake holiday), but apparently, in my research to confirm you are, in fact, a fake holiday, I learned you’re actually an important holiday! You’re like Memorial Day for the people who fight the middle class war. Labor Day, you are the celebration of all the social and economic achievements of American workers, according to the Department of Labor, and I thank you for that, especially because it means that, in honor of my factory worker ancestors, I didn’t have to go to Pre-Trial Practice today. Thanks!

Still, though. Labor Day isn’t just a fake holiday (sorry, Labor Day, but I’m never gonna take you seriously). It’s also the time of year when you guys have to stop wearing your white shoes, until Memorial Day (there that parallel is again! Exciting!), if you’re from the South and think of yourself as a Southern Lady With Manners. Martha Stewart says Labor Day is the last chance for a summer cookout. And for a lot of people, Labor Day is the official “goodbye, hot, disgusting heat, I’m gonna go dig out my cardigans.”

These people do not live in Arizona, and these people did not have my summer, or, as I like to call it, Three Months of OHBABYJESUSWHYDIDANYONENOTSLAPMEWHENIANNOUNCEDMYSUMMERPLANS. 

That’s because while other people take vacations, or go to horse shows, or do something like, I don’t know, HAVE FUN over the summer, I decided to take one week “off” before my three summer classes, write a 30 page paper (with footnotes!), and then study for and take the MPRE. And then that left exactly one week before fall classes started.

But that’s not all I did! I know, it sounds like too much awesomeness, but just like the rest of the planet, I had my fair share of “even worse.” Between the continued economic sucking, the failure of a certain political class to deal with the problem, a huge, gross oil spill that ruined a lot of livelihoods of both people and pelicans, earthquakes, war, famine, flood, and Katy Perry, there was a whole bunch of teeth-gnashing and breast-beating. Also, last week, just catching the tail end of “summertime,” there was a condom in the stairs of my apartment building. A used condom. Excuse me while I go barf.

So summer sucked, but it wasn’t all bad! Here’s my summer breakdown.

I turned 26! I think that is still mid-20s, but it is the age I will be when I graduate law school. I have waited to be this age for a long time. I’m very excited about this year.

On my birthday, I got a dog. His name was Neo, and he was a corgi. I wanted a corgi, and his name was Neo, so obviously, this had to happen. But Neo bit me and everyone I love, and so I had to take the dog back. That was sad. But it made me realize that you can’t force good things to happen to you. When I got Mulder, I had been living on my own for over a month, and for a girl who a) LOVES animals and b) has had a dog/pet every single second of my life, that was a long, long month. Mulder picked me (actually he picked Boyfriend, but he likes me a lot and goes with me when I have to pee, so I think it worked out). And now he’s my Nugget and I love him a stupid amount! And the next dog will pick me, too. Also, I blocked Petfinder.com from my internet browser.

I did four weeks of Boot Camp, which started at 5:30am. Crazy! But I drove my butt over to the park and did those jump squats and skaters and bicycles until they told me I could stop, and it felt good! I learned how many more hours are in a day when you don’t push the snnoze button. I also learned how much I love naps. The discipline made me work out much more consistently, and I hate the days that I don’t do something active.

In conjunction with Boot Camp, I also discovered Jillian Michaels’ DVDs, and got my mom hooked on them, too. Jillian Michaels is like my workout twin. If I were a personal trainer, I would be just like her. In fact, when my mom and I work out together, one of my favorite things to do is yell at my mom to jump higher or farther or faster or whatever. “If you don’t challenge yourself, you’ll never know what you can do!” I yell. Or, “Do you want to be skinny? Do your mountain climbers!” Then my mom gives me a nasty look and I get scared. But if my client wasn’t my mom, I would be just like Jillian!

I saw “Inception,” or as Boyfriend calls it, “Invection.” “Inception” was good, but apparently you either hate it or love it. The important thing, though, is that Tommy from “Third Rock from the Sun” grew up to be quite delicious.

Boyfriend and I got all caught up on “Mad Men.” He had never seen it, but I had seen a few episodes from the first two seasons and almost all of the third season, and then, when I stopped watching new episodes because I was getting all caught up with Boyfriend so we could start watching the new episodes, I was reading spoilers, because I really needed to know. But now I am all caught up and we can spend Sunday nights yelling at Don as he spirals into full on alcoholism, falling in love with Roger, and drinking whisky (Boyfriend) and gin and tonics (me). I also introduced Boyfriend to and finished “Pushing Daisies,” which only had two seasons but really needed a lot more than that. It’s one of the most charming shows that has ever been on television. You can’t help but grin like an idiot the whole time, even though it’s about a guy who is a pie maker, but has the ability where he touches things and brings them back to life in order to find out who murdered them so he can solve their murder/collect reward money, but if he touches them again, they’re dead forever, and so when he touches his childhood sweetheart to find out who murdered her, he decides not to touch her again so she can stay alive, and they fall in love, but they can never touch. So it’s a little morbid, but Kristen Chenoweth is in it! And a golden retriever named Digby. And pie! This inspired me, and I baked my first non-pumpkin pie pies this summer: a cherry pie for my dad’s birthday, and a strawberry pie for Boyfriend/series finale of “Pushing Daisies.” I learned I bake great pies, and I can’t wait to incorporate them into my menu more frequently.

Can you get better than that?

Yes, you can. With corgi flop. Watch this. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=glii-kazad8 I discovered this over the summer.

Finally, I got glasses! This means I am even closer to becoming the 80-year-old woman we all know I am in my heart. They’re not even those pharmacy readers. They’re honest-to-goodness, I-have-a-prescription, my-left-eye-is-farsighted, hope-my-lenses-fit-these-Coach-frames glasses. And yay for no more headaches! As my dad pointed out, maybe I won’t be such a bitch after reading for a long time! I think it’s working out so far. I am quite fond of cleaning my glasses all the time with the little soft cloth in my glasses case. I feel like when I want to look more studious, I can remove my glasses and gently rub the hem of my shirt on the lens, then put them back on my face. Tah-dah! Exponentially smarter looking.

That about sums up summer. A lot of sucking, but also some good stuff.

One of the worst things about summer in Phoenix, aside from the oppressive, horrible heat that makes me cry that the sun is melting my skin off my body, is how long it lasts. In other areas, more “seasonal” areas of the country, now is the time to dust off your boots and dig out your sweaters and jeans. Here, we still have about a month and a half of oppressive heat that feels like death to look forward to. Mentally, emotionally, and physically, I am ready for tights and knee high boots with dresses. I want to pick out my outfit and not worry that wearing a belt is going to feel like my midsection is bursting into flames. I really, really, really want to wear that Calvin Klein sweater dress again.

So I guess here, for as sucky as summer has been, it’s kind of like our summer has extended itself a little while longer for some redemption. Hopefully, by the time I can open my patio door without feeling like I am walking into ground zero of a nuclear blast, the good things will outnumber the bad things. I definitely think more pie will help.