Party like it's 1999

So this was overheard today at the doctor's office:
Female Receptionist: "When was this song done? I mean, was it written like way before 1999 when people thought it was going to be like way different?"
Male Nurse: "I don't know, man...I think they thought it was going to be a big party."
Female Receptionist: "Yeah, well, 1999 was not that much fun."

I weep for the future.

Tweet-tweet

So has a bird ever been saved from starvation by birdseed? If we stopped putting out birdseed, would any birds die? What did they do for food during the winter before we started spreading peanut butter on pine cones and rolling it around in a pound of birdseed?

Wake up call

So this morning I was woken up at 6:00 exactly by HAIL. It wasn't very big (the few pieces I measured where less than two centimeters in diameter) and the storm only lasted a couple minutes, but it was still a fantastic way to start the day!

Holy Crap

So I was late to church today. When I am late, I try to force myself to sit in the front pew, kind of as a reminder that I was late and I should try to get to church on time. Today there was a family in the front pew but there was more than enough room for me. I sat down and service began. As the various people walked up the aisle, I spotted him--gorgeous red hair, great Roman nose, bright blue eyes. I almost melted. He was the liturgical minister, which meant he sat near the altar off to one side. I tried not to stare but I had lost control of my eyes which kept drifting over to him.

So we had a visiting priest (the normal guy was sick). He was the fastest talker I have ever heard. It was seriously like being in the presence of an auctioneer: "INTHEnameofthefather
ANDofthesonANDoftheholyspirITweaskthisthroughCHRI-ISTourlord." I giggled slightly and the Cute Boy caught my eye and smiled. We had a moment! Laughing about the priest! We were totally meant to be. I spent the rest of the first half of mass practically making out with him with my eyes.

Then as the first part of mass ended the Cute Boy got up to go sit down with the congregation. He was walking toward me! I have to admit, I was a little shocked...I mean, I know I'm really charming, but I didn't think I could convey all that in a wink and a smile. But as he got closer I realized he wasn't looking at me, he was looking to my right....to his family. He hadn't been looking at me at all! When he got to the pew he finally looked at me and said "Excuse me, can I squeeze through? You're kind of in my spot." OHMYGOD.

I spent the rest of the service trying to blend in with the oak pew. When we got to the kneeling part of mass, I didn't have a kneeler. He started to offer me a portion of his kneeler, but didn't finish his sentence when he realized I would have had to put one knee between his to actually fit (which would have been an amazing kinetic experience if in fact he had been silently falling in love with me as I had with him during the past half an hour). I kneeled on the ground like the pentitent man and prayed that auctioneer priest would get the service over with as quickly as possible. No wonder the deacon was looking at me funny--I hope he didn't think I was thinking about the caridnal sins with him! I took an extra long sip of wine at communion which helped a little but as soon as the final blessing was delivered I grabbed my purse and high-tailed it out the door.

I am going to have to find a new church.

Basketcase

So I just wanted to share some notes I just came across that I wrote at some point in my Law and Psychiatry class:

"Dillusional Disorder
--non-bizarre delusions
--non-prominent hallucinations
Example: man raped cousin; believed his butt smelled bad."

I don't know why, but that sentence makes me giggle.
Hee-hee.

Dreamweaver

So after a long night of drinking (actually, it was a really short night of drinking...I was in bed by 10 o'clock) I woke up this morning at 7 and just kind of laid around in bed. I was thinking about whether I wanted to blog about anything that happened the night before, none of which I could really remember. Then I got up, and realized that my bedroom floor had been cleared and everything was put away. As I looked through the room my gaze went into the hallway and saw that it was clean, too. I walked out to the kitchen and saw that I had brand new kitchen cabinets, all done in this very pretty mahogany color. Then I saw my furniture had been moved around and my carpets had been cleaned! The television was on, and the radio, and there was a note that said "Maintenance" on it. Apparently they had come in while I was passed out and done repairs on my apartment! It all looked amazing, like a brand new place! I was so happy, but I was still really tired, so I went back to bed. My last thought before going to back to sleep was "I'm definitely going to have to blog about this."

Three hours later I woke up in a messy apartment with old brown cabinets. I had dreamt the whole thing.

"I can't hear you when I flush"

So I hate, hate, HATE it when people talk on the cell phones while they are in a public restroom. I don't even like it when there are other people in the ladies loo that can hear me pee, let alone someone in another time zone might get to hear me pee. I especially don't understand it when people talk on their cell phones while they are on the toilet. I don't get it. There is no conversation that is important enough to have while your bare ass is sitting on a public seat. Whatever you have to say IT CAN WAIT UNTIL YOU PUT YOUR GODDAMN PANTS BACK ON AND YOU ARE OUTSIDE. Plus there is the potential for lots of germs (do you wash your phone with soap and water afterwards?) and the added risk of dropping your phone into the toilet (just typing that made me gag little). I was actually in the bathroom today and a girl was leaving a voicemail with what sounded like a potential employer that was interrupted when she flushed the toilet.

I could make some joke here about her career being in the crapper or flushing her future away, but the whole thing makes me a little nauseous.

The case of the missing sling-backs

So I think that someone has broken into my apartment: my pointy black sling-back heels are missing. Now I know those of you who have been to my apartment in recent months will say, "Jessica, really, the shoes are probably in the earthquake rubble you charmingly refer to as your bedroom." To you I say--NO! I know exactly where every pair of shoe I own is. Like shoe sonar or something. Without going to look, I can tell you:
The green Union Bay sneakers? Under the glass table in the living room.
The peep-toe heels that were a party to the tumble? One is sitting on top of a pile of clothes, the other is on the bathroom rug.
The green flip-flops with pink flamingos? Kitchen.
The distressed brown Mary Janes? Under the coat rack.
The Abominable Snowman slippers? Under the desk near my feet.
The caramel color slip-ons that make my feet smell? Coat closet.
The gray pointy sling-backs? One is on the kitchen table, the other is in a purse near the kitchen counter. (I keep mistaking this one for the shoe that is MIA.)

The point to all this is that I know where my shoes are when they are not on my feet. And I have no clue where the pointy black sling-back heels are. And I have looked in all the usual places: closet, under the bed, under the couch, in the fridge (that's usually where my keys or cell phone hide), etc. I think a robber came in and took my shoes. Or a weird little gnome with a shoe fetish.

Speaking of which, I wonder if Oola took them.

Hippity-Hoppity

So is it sad that this is a) the first year I didn't get to search for Easter eggs and/or an Easter basket and 2) I missed it?

Deposition Drama

So this would be an example of lawyer's behaving badly.

For those of you who haven't spent three years learning to act like this, here is a small explanation: prior to going to trial, lawyers on both sides will do what is called a deposition. It is basically a time when the lawyer on one side gets to question the other party's witnesses. There is usually a court reporter who creates a deposition transcript (so every little "um" "okay" and "uh-huh" is typed out). The lawyer who is doing the questioning is not limited by relevance rules and can pretty much ask any question he wants (with certain limits). The lawyer who is defending the deposition (the lawyer who is representing the witness) can object to questions, but unless it involves privileged information or something the witness is not supposed to discuss, the objection is just noted in the transcript and the witness will answer the question (so usually an objection during a depo does not have the same function as an objection at trial).

With that mini explanation, enjoy the clip.

(Interesting fact: the lawyer doing the questioning is a famous (or infamous?) Texas attorney who is permanently barred from practicing law in Delaware).