So my galfriends have been plagued recently by ex-boyfriends. The exes send them e-mails out of the blue, they call to say they still love them, they call to say they never want to speak to them again, they run up behind them at marathons and try to chat... exes everywhere. One of the nice things about getting married, changing my phone number and moving to a new state is that my exes have a hard time finding me.
But after all the ex talk over the last couple of days, I had a dream last night in which I was still dating an ex, and the only thing I could think of was "Crap! How did I get to be dating this guy again? This sucks!" Then I asked him how many times I had to break up with him to make it stick. Which kinda of reveals how well I handle the delicate task of letting a guy down easy. He was very surprised, since in dream world we had never broken up. But I remember breaking up. In the real world. Over chinese food and fortune cookies. His cookie said "Love first and wait for love in return." And I told him I didn't love him anymore. Subtlety is not my strong suit.
I hope you are doing well, Mr. Ex. Thanks for not popping up years later in real life to tell me you still love or hate me. And I'm glad to know that the only person less likely to be running a marathon than me is you.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Friday, April 27, 2007
Kids in the Court
Yesterday I was a volunteer juror for Kids in the Court, a nifty little program that HLS sponsors. Law students go to local elementary schools and teach 8th graders a little about the law, and then help them put together a mock trial. At the end of the semester, the different classes have a mini-trial, and a side "wins" the trial. I was a teacher for it last year, but was too swamped this year. So I agreed to be a juror.
In file the super-serious 8th graders, followed by the super-giggly 8th graders. Some are wearing their sunday best, and everyone has on a tie. Even most of the girls. Very Avril Lavigne. It seems one boy borrowed all of his dad's ties and distributed them to his classmates. Anyway, the case is about free speech in high school, but is so lopsided that if the plaintiffs had only bothered to show up they would have won. But we watched both sides examine witnesses and giggle their way through an hour long trial. There were two baseless objections, but the kids objected like they meant it. And that's what counts.
Anyway, we jurors left to "deliberate" and quickly agree that the plaintiff side has the winning argument. And by argument we mean raw facts. So to waste a little time (we don't want it to look like a landslide) we start talking about how unfair it is that the case was so lopsided and that whoever runs the program should have evened out the facts a bit. Then we return and deli ever our verdict. One side cheers, the other side calls the whole process "lame", the usual. Then the teacher of the classes (the social studies teacher, I think) stands and says (in an incredibly condescending way), "well, the plaintiffs might have officially won, but I think it's clear that the respondents did the better job here today. You can't always trust a jury." Cue in-fighting by the students and general umbrage in the juror box. We jurors are dismissed and file out. As we leave, the teacher pulls us aside outside and says, "the losing side had a lot of special needs students in it. I hope this verdict hasn't crushed them too badly..." Then she sighed dramatically and swept away back into the classroom. We all stood there and stared at each other. Guilt trip to the neutral jury aside, WHY DIDN'T THEY GIVE THE EASY WIN TO THE SPECIAL NEEDS STUDENTS?!?! I mean come on. If you are worried about their self-esteem, give them the winning side. Why set them up with an impossible side to defend and then blame the jury?
And by the way, the so-called special needs kids did just as well as the others. I couldn't tell any sort of difference in their preparation, presentation or attention. They just had an uphill battle from go. Perhaps the teacher shouldn't constantly remind them that they aren't on equal footing with everyone else. I bet that would do wonders for the ole' self-esteem.
In file the super-serious 8th graders, followed by the super-giggly 8th graders. Some are wearing their sunday best, and everyone has on a tie. Even most of the girls. Very Avril Lavigne. It seems one boy borrowed all of his dad's ties and distributed them to his classmates. Anyway, the case is about free speech in high school, but is so lopsided that if the plaintiffs had only bothered to show up they would have won. But we watched both sides examine witnesses and giggle their way through an hour long trial. There were two baseless objections, but the kids objected like they meant it. And that's what counts.
Anyway, we jurors left to "deliberate" and quickly agree that the plaintiff side has the winning argument. And by argument we mean raw facts. So to waste a little time (we don't want it to look like a landslide) we start talking about how unfair it is that the case was so lopsided and that whoever runs the program should have evened out the facts a bit. Then we return and deli ever our verdict. One side cheers, the other side calls the whole process "lame", the usual. Then the teacher of the classes (the social studies teacher, I think) stands and says (in an incredibly condescending way), "well, the plaintiffs might have officially won, but I think it's clear that the respondents did the better job here today. You can't always trust a jury." Cue in-fighting by the students and general umbrage in the juror box. We jurors are dismissed and file out. As we leave, the teacher pulls us aside outside and says, "the losing side had a lot of special needs students in it. I hope this verdict hasn't crushed them too badly..." Then she sighed dramatically and swept away back into the classroom. We all stood there and stared at each other. Guilt trip to the neutral jury aside, WHY DIDN'T THEY GIVE THE EASY WIN TO THE SPECIAL NEEDS STUDENTS?!?! I mean come on. If you are worried about their self-esteem, give them the winning side. Why set them up with an impossible side to defend and then blame the jury?
And by the way, the so-called special needs kids did just as well as the others. I couldn't tell any sort of difference in their preparation, presentation or attention. They just had an uphill battle from go. Perhaps the teacher shouldn't constantly remind them that they aren't on equal footing with everyone else. I bet that would do wonders for the ole' self-esteem.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Blood Drive Nazi
It's blood drive time again.
I have one of those rare blood types, and I have never lived in Africa and I have not had sex with a man who's had sex with a man since 1977, so I am permanently on the Red Cross's Most Wanted List. Every 56.5 days they call (yes! call me! at home!) and want me to donate. I'm on a first name basis with all of the nurses. I have a membership card. To the Red Cross. Oh yeah.
Usually, I have fine experiences with the Red Cross. I come in, I fill out the paperwork, I re-read the notice of all the reasons one could not give blood (remind me to google a few new diseases later so my father can diagnose my mother with one (no one knows why he insists on mom having failing health, but he does)), and I am called at or near my appointment time. But last time, something went wrong. I agreed to give blood at a high school.
It was a rookie mistake. See, high schools are just chock-full of 17 and 18 year olds who have also not lived in Africa and haven't received brain grafts before 1987, and who are willing to donate an hour of class time to give blood. So when I arrived a few minutes before my appointment time, I was met with a swarm of students. Students without appointments. Students who were being taken before people with appointments because they couldn't keep students out of class for three hours. But they could keep ME there for three hours, and keep me there they did. I considered leaving, but they had already scanned my membership card, which meant they were on notice that I was a rare type and were not to let me leave without donating under any circumstance. The nurse kept telling me ten more minutes every 15 minutes. So with a bumper crop of students ahead of me, and a nurse guarding the door, I learned my lesson and learned it good: never, NEVER agree to give blood at a high school.
So when the Red Cross called me last week to ask if I was planning to come in, I asked for the first appointment in the morning. Then I arrived 30 minutes before it. I helped a couple of nurses finish setting up and plopped myself down on the cot. I assure you, if ANYONE was giving blood that day, it was going to be me. First. And on my terms. I am the blood drive nazi. I was drained and out the door in 45 minutes flat. And besides the nurse getting a little carried away with the iodine, it was a model donating experience.
Am I ashamed of my guerrilla tactics? Nope. The squeaky wheel and the oil and all that.
I have one of those rare blood types, and I have never lived in Africa and I have not had sex with a man who's had sex with a man since 1977, so I am permanently on the Red Cross's Most Wanted List. Every 56.5 days they call (yes! call me! at home!) and want me to donate. I'm on a first name basis with all of the nurses. I have a membership card. To the Red Cross. Oh yeah.
Usually, I have fine experiences with the Red Cross. I come in, I fill out the paperwork, I re-read the notice of all the reasons one could not give blood (remind me to google a few new diseases later so my father can diagnose my mother with one (no one knows why he insists on mom having failing health, but he does)), and I am called at or near my appointment time. But last time, something went wrong. I agreed to give blood at a high school.
It was a rookie mistake. See, high schools are just chock-full of 17 and 18 year olds who have also not lived in Africa and haven't received brain grafts before 1987, and who are willing to donate an hour of class time to give blood. So when I arrived a few minutes before my appointment time, I was met with a swarm of students. Students without appointments. Students who were being taken before people with appointments because they couldn't keep students out of class for three hours. But they could keep ME there for three hours, and keep me there they did. I considered leaving, but they had already scanned my membership card, which meant they were on notice that I was a rare type and were not to let me leave without donating under any circumstance. The nurse kept telling me ten more minutes every 15 minutes. So with a bumper crop of students ahead of me, and a nurse guarding the door, I learned my lesson and learned it good: never, NEVER agree to give blood at a high school.
So when the Red Cross called me last week to ask if I was planning to come in, I asked for the first appointment in the morning. Then I arrived 30 minutes before it. I helped a couple of nurses finish setting up and plopped myself down on the cot. I assure you, if ANYONE was giving blood that day, it was going to be me. First. And on my terms. I am the blood drive nazi. I was drained and out the door in 45 minutes flat. And besides the nurse getting a little carried away with the iodine, it was a model donating experience.
Am I ashamed of my guerrilla tactics? Nope. The squeaky wheel and the oil and all that.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Maybe she's born with it
Face it, we all have an addiction. Some women can't get out of the shoe aisle. Some can't get out of the gadget aisle. Some can't get out of the home and garden aisle(s)/store/complex. I used to not be able to get out of the stationary aisle. Just thinking about it makes me smile- that beautiful aisle of legal pads and crisp stationary, or all those pens and highlighters... I could spend forever in there. Sadly, using a laptop for everything has made my ability to justify my love of the paper aisle obsolete. So I needed something new at which to cast longing glances.
Forget maybe, it is Maybelline. Ever since the sis got me hooked on their 16-hour long-lasting super awesome lipstick, I have become a Maybelline junkie. Yesterday, Patto and I were out and about running errands, and my Target gift cards (from my birthday) were burning a hole in my wallet, so we went in to see if we "needed" anything in Target. And in 3 seconds flat, I discovered I "needed" the Maybelline aisle. First, I needed a slightly darker shade of the lipstick I bought in March, for evenings (my current shade is perfect for the day, but what about dinner? WHAT ABOUT DINNER?!?!). Then I realized I needed a more dramatic color for parties/dates/girls' night on the town. Check and check. Then I noticed a gorgeous eye shadow palette in the brown/gold family, and as it so happens, I do not have a palette in the gold/brown family. And gold is the new black! So I snapped it up, too. Then, right before we almost made it out of the aisle, I noticed a matching nail polish. It is IMPOSSIBLE to find a good matching nail polish in the brown/gold family... or at least that's what I told Patrick as I hugged my spoils to my chest and sighed contentedly.
Luckily for me, the only thing stronger that my addictive personality is my tight fist when it comes to money. If I hadn't been holding a gift card, you can bet I would have stopped with only the darker shade of my daytime lipstick. The rest would have to go on layaway.
Forget maybe, it is Maybelline. Ever since the sis got me hooked on their 16-hour long-lasting super awesome lipstick, I have become a Maybelline junkie. Yesterday, Patto and I were out and about running errands, and my Target gift cards (from my birthday) were burning a hole in my wallet, so we went in to see if we "needed" anything in Target. And in 3 seconds flat, I discovered I "needed" the Maybelline aisle. First, I needed a slightly darker shade of the lipstick I bought in March, for evenings (my current shade is perfect for the day, but what about dinner? WHAT ABOUT DINNER?!?!). Then I realized I needed a more dramatic color for parties/dates/girls' night on the town. Check and check. Then I noticed a gorgeous eye shadow palette in the brown/gold family, and as it so happens, I do not have a palette in the gold/brown family. And gold is the new black! So I snapped it up, too. Then, right before we almost made it out of the aisle, I noticed a matching nail polish. It is IMPOSSIBLE to find a good matching nail polish in the brown/gold family... or at least that's what I told Patrick as I hugged my spoils to my chest and sighed contentedly.
Luckily for me, the only thing stronger that my addictive personality is my tight fist when it comes to money. If I hadn't been holding a gift card, you can bet I would have stopped with only the darker shade of my daytime lipstick. The rest would have to go on layaway.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
La Directora
Almost as soon as one Parody ends, the planning for a new one begins. As a group, the Harvard Law Drama Society elects the two Parody producers, and the Producers select the Director, and then Producer/Director team selects the writing corps, the choreographers, the set designer, the music director, the stage manager.... you get the idea.
Anyway, last week the Drama Society elected the Producers, and this week the Producers selected the Director: ME! I am beyond excited. I have done a little directing before- a production in high school and one in college, but this will be my first production with a budet, and paying sponsers, and advertisements, and a cast of more than 40 actors. WaaaaaHoooooo! I can't wait to get started. Which is good, because today I am picking the Head Writer for the Parody, and Tuesday the choreo and music director.
Anyway, last week the Drama Society elected the Producers, and this week the Producers selected the Director: ME! I am beyond excited. I have done a little directing before- a production in high school and one in college, but this will be my first production with a budet, and paying sponsers, and advertisements, and a cast of more than 40 actors. WaaaaaHoooooo! I can't wait to get started. Which is good, because today I am picking the Head Writer for the Parody, and Tuesday the choreo and music director.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Finally
It is set to hit 70 degrees on Sunday. 70 degrees! I haven't seen 70 degrees in 7.5 months. Awesome. It seems we have decided to skip spring and jump straight to summer. Of course, Boston weather has a habit of changing its mind, so I don't want to speak too soon. It could suddenly snow 3 inches, like it did two weeks ago.
So boobert has this nifty new Visitor Map thing on her blog which puts a little dot on the map everytime someone new visits. Very cool. Perhaps I'll throw one up and see what happens. Of course, it might get a little lonely with only her and my mom (hi mom!) checking on me. But we'll see. She has been attracting talent from Spain these days. Maybe fellow bloggeritos have their eye on me, too.
Well a girl can dream.
The ever-handsome Patto and I are going to see Hot Fuzz tonight with a couple of law school buddies. I'll let you know. It's supposed to be hysterical, but they said that about Shaun of the Dead, too, and I wasn't impressed. A trivia fact: Shaun of the Dead was the first movie Patto and I ever saw together. Patto said he knew it was love when I sat through the entire movie without complaining, and agreed to go out with him again afterwards. Apparently long-suffering is quite the virtue on Patto's list.
And given his obsession with video games, I bet I know why.
So boobert has this nifty new Visitor Map thing on her blog which puts a little dot on the map everytime someone new visits. Very cool. Perhaps I'll throw one up and see what happens. Of course, it might get a little lonely with only her and my mom (hi mom!) checking on me. But we'll see. She has been attracting talent from Spain these days. Maybe fellow bloggeritos have their eye on me, too.
Well a girl can dream.
The ever-handsome Patto and I are going to see Hot Fuzz tonight with a couple of law school buddies. I'll let you know. It's supposed to be hysterical, but they said that about Shaun of the Dead, too, and I wasn't impressed. A trivia fact: Shaun of the Dead was the first movie Patto and I ever saw together. Patto said he knew it was love when I sat through the entire movie without complaining, and agreed to go out with him again afterwards. Apparently long-suffering is quite the virtue on Patto's list.
And given his obsession with video games, I bet I know why.
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