Enigmatic Female

FYI

The following is not a compliment:

"You definitely have the biggest breasts of any girl I've ever hooked up with."

Without saying whether you like big breasts (not all guys do, you know), this is not a compliment. It is not a qualitative statement, but merely a statement of quantity. Again, not a compliment. This is about the equivalent of saying, "You have brown hair." It's just not that special.

Polar Bear Club

As I mentioned last week, we've been having some plumbing problems in my building. This isn't the first time, doubtful it will be the last. In the bathroom we have a leaking, decaying ceiling over the shower that occasionally deposits little presents of wet plaster and foulness on the bathtub floor when we aren't home. Last week my roommate had to do without water for the entirety of Friday, and when I arrived home from work, I noted the sign that said there would be no water again on Monday. What I didn't expect was my roommate's call of Sunday afternoon while I was out and about saying that we had no hot water. No hot water!!! I had even been to Lush that afternoon and picked up a lavender bath bomb to relax with later that evening. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. That was an extremely trivial concern compared with washing my face in frigid water before bed, or waking up yesterday morning to find that there was still no hot water.

I initially thought I would just head to the gym and take a shower there, but then I saw the weather and realized I might prefer a cold shower to a rain shower before work. I got creative. I filled the tub halfway with the barely above freezing water from the tap, then I got busy boiling water. I had a tea kettle, two pots, and my largest sauce pan simmering away on the stove. I happily thought that I might be making too much hot water, but reasoned that I could always add more cold water to it, as that was clearly in abundant supply. It didn't take long for that water to boil, and one by one I dumped the pots into the icy water. It didn't make a damn bit of difference; the water was still shockingly cold. I put them back on with another batch of frigid water. Again, one by one I poured them in. It was getting later and later and I didn't have time to keep repeating this. I was frustrated that it wasn't working, and decided to just get a big cup out of the kitchen, bend over the tub, and wash my hair that way. Quel bad idea. I'm not sure I can adequately convey how cold that water was. It was the thickness that water gets as it approaches freezing and starts to fall toward the bottom of a pond, letting the ice float to the top, and after I poured in all that hot water, it was maybe 5-10 degrees warmer than when I started, and I was NOT prepared for how cold it actually was. I shampooed up my hair, braced myself for the rinse (takes a while as I've got thick hair), rinsed, did NOT repeat, and did NOT follow with coordinating conditioner. I had the notion of also washing my body by splashing with water, but this was quickly abandoned in favor of a wash cloth that I allowed to come to room temperature, making it bearable. Had I been thinking more clearly of a morning, I would have made a pot of warm water and done all my sundry bits-washing from the warm water.

I called my roommate around 3:30 and found that they had still not turned on the hot water. I called the landlord and bitched. When I arrived home my roommate had wet hair, and said that they turned the hot water back on, but that there wasn't much of it available. He said, "I was in my robe dirty until six thirty." This rhymed, I cracked up, and was hopeful that waking up this morning would be like Christmas, where there would be hot water in plentiful supply. I think I'm in luck, as the floor of our bathroom is hot, indicating that there is hot water a-flowing. I have never so welcomed a shower before.

*&@%!$

I have been pretty tired this week and I gave myself permission to sleep in this morning, even setting my alarm for an hour later than normal. I knew I'd have to rush to make it to work on time, but this was sleep I needed. The Universe, it would seem, had other plans, and I was awakened by the sound of a jackhammer at precisely the hour my stereo clicks itself on and begins playing some dreamy, ease into the day music. Waking up to loud, angry sounds is a terrible way to st art the day and puts me out of sorts for many hours, if not the whole day. For this reason, I use the alarm function of my stereo, rather than an annoying beeping alarm clock or staticky radio station, despite its shortcoming in having no snooze button. I haven't been this pissed off about waking up since the playground of a daycare center was located directly outside my window, or maybe since they were doing construction on the dining hall next to my college dorm. For a whole semester!!!

Ranting aside, it looks gorgeous here in sunny Manhattan, which might be enough to compensate me for the rude awakening. Plus, it's Friday and I am totally looking forward to this weekend. A friend of mine from law school and his fiance are in town and I will be brunching tomorrow with him and partying with their friends at Louis tomorrow night, I am getting a much-needed haircut, I am having a fall in love with New York date with one of my best boyfriends (we haven't decided whether it's an exploring a new neighborhood date or a doing a touristy something yet), and I need a little down time all my own, which should be abundant Saturday afternoon and Sunday evening.

One geekish, Apple-y question/note. I copied about 20 gigs of music from my iBook onto an external harddrive, then copied the external harddrive onto my new iMac. Any idea why it would randomly not copy some of the albums that were on there? Say, around 2 gigs worth?

You Have Entered an Invalid Response

Dear Family and Friends,

First of all, I'm fine. Really. You needn't be so concerned. There is one thing, however, that is distressing me somewhat--the need you all have to try to cheer my up by telling me R was too _______ for me or not _______  enough for me, or that one day I will meet someone else who is more _______. The thing is, dear family and friends, in the past 10 years I have met 3 guys I was into enough to have a longer than 6 week relationship with; that's less than 1 guy every three years. The chances of finding someone MORE of any of the amazing qualities R or S or B had is so slim, it's just not so comforting to hear when I'm struggling with the idea of losing the person I thought I'd spend my life with. Rather than focus so much on finding this mythical ideal person, I'd rather focus on being happy by myself and not feeling like my life won't be worthwhile unless I find that one perfect person. So, to that end, please stop calling me when you've thought of one more thing that wasn't perfect with R and me. Please don't be offended when I tell you I don't want to talk about it anymore. Please do find something else to talk about and help me move on to other positive things.

Thank you, that is all.

Love,
Erin

There is a C*nt Who Works at Time Warner Cable

Me: Hi, I'm interested in Road Runner internet service.

The C*nt: O.K. I can get that set up for you.

Me: Great. I've actually had a lot of trouble with your service in the past and before I sign up, I was hoping you could give me some information about the prices and the service options. A few months ago I signed up for Road Runner, but it never worked after the technician left and I didn't have any time to get it fixed, so I cancelled.

The C*nt: Oh. Well, I can give you the Entertainment Package for $96 a month with the service you have right now and Road Runner.

Me: That sounds good, but I just want to make sure it will work for me.

The C*nt: What kind of computer do you have?

Me: I actually want the service for a Mac and a PC. Can I use them both on the same modem?

The C*nt: Let me put you on hold while I research that...Hello? O.K., yeah, you will need two modems for two computers. That will be an extra $44.95 a month.

Me: WHAT?

The C*nt: You could do wireless internet, but that's not compatible with a Mac.

Me: What?

The C*nt: Well, you could leave your Mac in one place. Is it a laptop?

Me: Yes, both of the computers are laptops.

The C*nt: Well, you wouldn't be able to move the Mac around. It would have to be hardwired to the modem.

Me: WHAT? What's the point of having a laptop? Are you talking about it being connected to the modem by a cable?

The C*nt: No, it would have to be hardwired to the modem.

Me: WHAT? You mean they're going to attach the modem to my computer with screws?

The C*nt: No, I told you already it would be connected through a wire.

Me: No, you said 'hardwired.' When I asked whether that mean a cable, you said no.

The C*nt: So, I have an appointment for Thursday the 17th. Do you want it?

Me: No, I don't think I can do this right now.

The C*nt: Have I answered all your questions today?

Me: No, you haven't. I am more confused than when I called. Can I talk to someone from your tech department?

The C*nt: No. That can't be done. It's not compatible with Mac.

Me: You have the worst service in the world.

The C*nt: O.K. Bye, bye now.

[In a truly sexist move, I called back later until I got a male on the phone. He and I totally got all my questions answered, and he totally took care of everything and even gave me a plan cheaper than that cunt offered.]

...And Counting

The Bar, the dreaded Bar, is about two weeks away at this point. Two weeks from tomorrow, to be exact. It spans both of my parents' birthdays, my mother's on the 27th, my father's on the 28th. It will be the first time I've returned to New York since moving home about six weeks ago. My studying habits, while taking somewhat of a backseat to spending time with a certain blue-eyed boy, have been accelerating. I spent the weekend and today (all day, all three days) working through problems and attending a session analyzing a diagnostic test I took. You know what I've gotten for my troubles? I think it's a flare up of some tendonitis I had in my elbow way back in high school. Tendonitis. From writing too damn much. How much is too much? Over 6 hours a day for the past 3 days. And I haven't even started working on the essay questions! While this may seem overly whiney to some, namely those who, like my brother, do manual labor all day in sweltering heat, my arm really hurts. And my neck. And my shoulders. And my brain. The problem with this is that it's just the beginning of any real efforts I've made to actually learn how to take this exam. Oh sure, I've attended the courses, but I haven't done any of the prescribed homework. For those of you taking the BarBri course, this means that I turned in 0 essays. In fact, I wrote 0 essays and have no idea how I'll do once I start. Needless to say, my normally calm, collected, unflappable composure is slipping and I've been cranky for 72 hours, causing me to do things like ignore my father, snap at my father, roll my eyes at my brother, and refuse to help my sister with things. Not my normal cheerful, happy-to-help self. I am casting my memory back to high school and my surly teenage years and shaking hands with the me I was then, because I understand her SO WELL right now. The bitch within me has broken free of her bonds. Approach at your peril.

RE: New Content

Nothing too interesting happened for a while. Then a bunch of fun stuff happened that I wanted to write about, and then I got sick. Really sick. Really really sick. I thought it was just a scratchy throat due to a few drags on a cigarette at the most kickass apartment party I've ever hosted (along with my remaining roommate...the other one, the one we hated, moved out! see...a lot has happened), but when I started losing my voice and coughing emphysema-style, I realized that it was probably something more. Bronchitis and pneumonia were ruled out at Columbia Health Services on Tuesday. I was given a nice steroid inhaler and told to load up on Robitussin and decongestants. Whee. Several days later and I'm still feeling pretty shitty. I can barely talk above a whisper, my ears are so clogged I can only hold conversations in restaurants with great difficulty, and every time I laugh I go into a coughing fit so severe it sends my entire body into spasms. Walking three blocks winds me like sprinting down the uphill stretch of Amsterdam Avenue between 125th and 115th Streets. Whining aside, I'm starting to feel a bit better. I was actually able to make it out of my apartment for more than 2 hours today. Got to see some friends rock an open stage night; I even got it on tape (of course, my coughing is quite audible at parts and the camera was jerking with each cough). Hopefully I'll feel better and inspired to write again soon, but no promises. And, can I just say, I am so fucking ready to graduate? It is most definitely time for a change of scenery--a broadening of horizons, as my mom so wisely suggested.

Thursday Night

While at the first of three bars visited by my 4 accomplices and me last evening, my point about how "lady lawyers with graduate degrees" are perceived by the general male population of the fine borough of Manhattan in the fair city of New York was reinforced yet again. While our two male compadres stepped away from the table for a moment, two of my homegirls and I discussed the two pleasant looking men sitting behind us. As they stood up to leave, my roommate, bold heroine that she is, said, "Excuse me, would you two like to join us for a drink?" The two target males (TM) conferred for a brief moment, nodded their assent, and came over to join us. Before taking a seat, one of the TMs asked, "Who was sitting here?" I replied, "No one, have a seat." They sat down opposite us. The waitress came over, we ordered another round, and proceded to engage in the getting to know you dance of our times. TM #1 asked, "Do you all work together?" I replied, "No, we're actually all law students." Pause in conversation. TM #2 said, "Oh, where are you in school." Someone else replied, "At Columbia." Longer pause in conversation. TM #2 said, "Wow. Columbia. That's nice." They proceded to ask where we're from and then guess where we went to college. Already knowing that this conversation was going nowhere, I tuned out a bit and decided to be candid rather than engaging in the game. TM #1 took that as his cue to focus on me and pelt me with questions. With his discerning eye, he determined that I must be the "overachiever out of you three." Between you and I, dear reader, I have rather high career ambitions and I intend to achieve a helluva lot, but as far as school goes, these ladies have me beat. I asked, "What makes you say that?" He asked, "Do you want to run for office at some point?" I said, "Yes, I think I would." He said, "I can see that in your eyes. Which office would you like to have?" I responded, "Governor of Maryland, Mayor of NYC, senator for Maryland or New York. I'm not picky." This was his cue to say, "Don't you feel that the government institutionalizes your thinking?" I wanted to scream. Whether I believe that or not, being measured in this way at a bar, then being challenged on my career goals while drunk was not my idea of fun, laughs, good times. I told him that I believe that any insitution institutionalizes your thinking, including our education system and especially law school. I even went so far as to give him a hint about my theories on the evils of suburban upbringing. He then said, "Just don't forget how to have a conversation with someone at a bar." I was like, is this guy for real? At this point, one of my faithful female companions asked what these two gentlemen do and whether they live in Manhattan. They replied, in tandem, that they both work for an advertising agency, and that TM #1 actually lives in Boston and commutes to NYC during the week. TM #1 was also insistent that he had no hometown, despite born in Indiana. TM #2 turned to TM #1 at this point and said, "Do you realize that any one of these three ladies are smarter than we are combined?" I think I might have rolled my eyes. I tried to tell them not to believe the hype, and that we are always excited to meet people who aren't law students or lawyers, but the damage had been done. Check please.

Dear Undergraduate Library Nazi,

Don't take this personally, but you're a bitch. OK, take it personally. You've pissed me the fuck off. I understand that when a sign says "No Drinks," one should not have a drink. I was happy to put the coffee away in the interest of not causing a scene and distracting my fellow companions in learning. I was even kind in the face of your interruption of my studies and actually listened to your subsequent informative discourse on where drinks are appropriate in the library. That said, making rounds through the room in which l am studying every 10-15 minutes (I timed you!) to make sure no one has introduced any new contraband and that I have not simply taken my coffee back out, is not only unnecessary, it is distracting. While I am sure that you get a great big old rush of power as you march through, clipboard in hand, I think you can find better ways to entertain yourself on the job. Here are some suggestions:
1. Dislodge that pole from your ass. If you get started right away, it might be out of there by Thanksgiving.
2. Go eat a candy bar. Actually, eat several. The effects of chocolate might relax you, as they mimic both sex and pot in high enough doses, two things with which you seem unfamiliar.
3. Ever heard of the internet?
4. We're in a library! Read something.
5. Do your homework. Isn't that the point of work study?

Angrily,
Me

Vacation Planning Blues

Planning my end of summer vacation should be a good thing, right? Wrong. I fucking hate rental car companies. All I want to do is fly into Seattle, drive down the west coast, stop a few places such as San Francisco, and eventually make my way to my friend's house in LA. It shouldn't be this difficult. Also, I prefer to rent a convertible for the drive, as I 1) want to travel in style, 2) think the weather would be amazing and want do be out in it as much as possible before returning to NYC. I am a Student Advantage member, which means that for Dollar RentaCar, you can rent if you're between 21-24 and the additional "you aren't 25 yet" fees will be waived. One caveat: you can't return the car to a different location from where you picked it up. Grr! I have been searching all morning to find ways around this. I may actually, gasp!, have to call them and see what they can do. Grr, again. I also don't want to fly between the cities, because I don't want to be obligated to stay for any specific length of time. I want to be free to go and stay as I like and just relax. Sigh.