Thursday, April 17, 2014

Blogger, Shot Caller (except for when I'm not)


shirt, c/o IWYP (only five more days to order!) /// jeans, James Jeans via Dillard's 
gold leaf necklace, c/o Riffraff (in store only- call & order 479.799.5763)  

I've sucked this week. I'll save y'all the same old tired I got caught up in the work and my brain does nothing but the law and I looked at the clock and realized I had been in my office for thirteen hours and then I had nothing to blog about excuse, except for I really didn't spare you anything since I just threw out that excuse again, but damn it, it's true, so whatever. I really have been swamped the past two weeks. If anyone was taking bets as to when my courtroom shenanigans would get me incarcerated, check in with me on Monday afternoon. I'll buy a drink or three for whoever wants to bail me out on a contempt charge (which could possibly come from calling someone a doody face, but not in words that kind).

There's my sorry justification for being non-existent this week (and kind of last week, those posts sort of sucked). I've said it before and I'll say it again: when I get on the work binges, it takes over my entire soul and I have absolutely nothing else to talk about but the law/ragey, firey fury for mankind. Instead of writing about ways to say goodbye a la Train, I just don't write at all. Boo. I'm such a crap blogger that I think I should probably ship back my IWYP shirt to Whit. I don't know that I'm worthy of being a shot caller in my present state.

I won't send it back, though, because I love it already. Whitney sent me this little pretty (and the unicorn one!) as part of my throw-me-off birthday present (if you'll remember, her real present was coming to Arkansas and touching my face for a solid hour, which was the best hour of my life). If you think you need a Blogger, Shot Caller shirt (and I promise, you do, they're super comfy), go here and order one!

Upside to my crappy week: one of my co-workers teaches a class at the law school, which is a little under an hour north of here. It's a skills class in the area of law we practice, so when he asked if I'd come up and assist him in his final class of the year - a mock trial, no less - I said absolutely. To make it even better, he also convinced the judge that we both practice in front of to drive up and play the part of the judge for the trial. Be warned: I may use this role to let out all my work-induced aggression.  Thank God I can't be held in contempt of fake court.

ALSO. My winner for the Moh bag never contacted me, and I can't get ahold of her, so I've redrawn, and it's going to live happily ever after with Chelsea from The Girl Who Loved to Write!



Just shoot me an email and I'll get it sent out!



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Friday, April 11, 2014

This Time Around (and monkey love)

I had the longest work day every yesterday.  Not because I stayed for thirteen hours or anything, but because from the second I stepped foot in the building, everything caught fire.  Holy. Moly. And thank God it's Friday. I have Blond John in town, and we're going to OKC tomorrow to visit my Memaw.  Sometimes I think we're almost physically unable to sit still.


Stuff I Wrote

+ It was my birthday and I turned thirty. Hashtag best year ever.




Stuff I Didn't Write, But It Doesn't Suck, So Whatever

+ My sweet friend Dr. J is an emergency room doctor. He has a friend who is a neonatal specialist who was sent in to take care of the new baby gorilla delivered via cesarean at the San Diego Zoo.  He texted me this picture:


And suddenly, I question all of my life and career choices. I WANNA PLAY WITH GORILLAS IN DIAPERS WHY THE HELL AM I A LAWYER.


+ This is a baby monkey getting his first bath. Obviously, this week's Round Up has a primates theme.





+ And then you go cry and hug your dog-




+ Why I Hate the Term Soulmate.  I've been saying this for years and years. I wholly believe I have a few soulmates, my best ever manboy Reed being one of them. I don't believe that a relationship has to have romantic undertones in order to classify that person as a "soulmate." I'm glad someone else feels the same way.


+ I read this a while back, but I think I've forgotten to share it until now. Date a girl who travels. I have a soft spot in my heart for a wandering lifestyle, and I loved the points the writers makes.



I'll leave y'all with a little tune that I used to rock in high school driving my little baby Mustang. I was so hard.






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Wednesday, April 9, 2014

The Abundant and Current Failures of 'Sassy

You remember that time I blogged about my total lack of time management and how I really had all the time I wanted and just chose to utilize it in lazypants ways?

And then I went and worked until 11:00 last night. And fell into bed dead.

Hashtag big.fat.fail.

I'm usually fairly worthless before 9:30 in the morning, so I generally shoot for getting to work sometimes around then. I know right off the get-go that no matter what time I get there, I'll be staying late/taking work home, so the hour that I actually make it in the building can be somewhat inconsequential, so long as I actually do make it in.  I kind of have the best boss ever in the regard.  We don't punch a timecard, so we can slide hours around here and there.  If I have anything personal to take care of (*ahem* blogging, bill paying, etc.), I try to get them finished before I go in, so I can devote my attention and energy to the fires I have to put out in the course of the day.  And drink lots and lots of coffee.

Dare I say it, though, it (almost) makes me yearn for the days of bar studying, pre-job, in which I woke up, drank my coffee, and learned stuff sitting by my dogs.  One where I made a delicious breakfast and always had clean towels.  It balanced out with the actual anxiety-ridden studying part, though.

now shoot me in the face for even thinking that.

Speaking of failures (ba dum ching), it's come to my attention that I'll be in sunny Florida four weeks from Saturday, so I'll need to start the ice cubes and fingernails diet sometime soon because I'm terrible at keeping up with a workout routine.  I honestly just suck sometimes.  It's not even about motivation, it's just energy.  I really like Insanity, but sometimes even forty-five minutes can be a lot to muster (and I feel like a sloth admitting that).  Help, fit girls.  Help.

Can I not just automatically and easily look like this?


there were very few things greater than Duke-era Jessica.

At this point, I'll either need a miracle to get swimsuit ready, or booze not to care.  You say tomato.


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