Archive for June, 2009

I hate to say it, but there are a lot of people in Columbia, South Carolina who need to learn how to Shut the &*%@ Up. 

Case in point –

“This was a whole lot more than a simple affair, this was a love story,” Sanford said. “A forbidden one, a tragic one, but a love story at the end of the day.”*

Sanford said Chapur is his soul mate but he’s trying to fall back in love with his wife.**

“At that point I was very careful, everything was paid for in cash,” Sanford said. “And you won’t find a credit card record.”***

Culbertson said he believed his friend when he said that this was his only marital transgression. He thinks Sanford was simply caught off guard by “the power of darkness.”

“One of the quotes we use in our couples course is, ‘You can choose your sins, but you can’t choose your consequences,'” Culbertson said. “We used to use David as an example of that. Mark may be the 2009 version of a good example.  “Mark knew what David knew.”****


* SHUT UP!  Seriously!  Think about your four sons reading this and stop professing in the international news your love for the woman in Argentina!  STOP IT. 

** Lucky Mrs. Sanford, he’s TRYING to fall back in love with her. 

***Is he bragging about this?  Is he proud of how sneaky he was with his cash paying hotel rooms?

**** Did he REALLY just compare himself to King David?  REALLY?  AGGHH.  I’m absolutely blown away by his arrogance.  Please, just stop talking.  And don’t even get me started with how straight up crazy Culberson sounds. He sounds like a cult leader.   This is my favorite crazy quote so far –

“God hates lawlessness and is tireless in His desire to dissuade man from his fascination with lawlessness,” reads a paper titled “Cubby’s Talks.” ”Our hearts are lions’ dens of devouring lusts. Lawlessness torments righteous souls every day.”

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One more thing –

I’ve been trying to learn how to Twitter.  I added the Twitter widget to my blog, so if you scroll down to the bottom of the sidebar you’ll see where I’ve been updating.  I don’t think I’ve gotten to the point yet where I’m funny, but I’m working on it.  I want to be funny without being negative and just bitching about how I hate bad drivers and how it drives me crazy that the television gets louder during the commercials and how I feel like the universe is about the end when the drive thru line at chik fil a doesn’t move (you expect the popeyes and bojangle drive thru to be slow, but chik-fil-a is suppose to always be moving). 

I’ll let you know when I become funny without being negative and bitchy.  Until then, feel free to ignore.

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We Love You Michael

Libby sent me a text as I was arriving home from work yesterday about the rumored death of Michael Jackson.  I sat down on the couch in shock, and turned on the television.  CNN was showing the video of Mark Sanford crying (I have thoughts on that too, I really thought they were picking on him last week, but apparently I am delusionally optimistic), so I turned it on MTV.  It was on a commercial, but soon the video Thriller started, and a ticker-tape at the bottom of the screen told me that Michael had in fact passed away.  I sat there with my mouth literally hanging open, sort of captivated by the beginning scenes of the video, and absorbing the news. 

As I sat there with my jaw on the floor, Bucket (who is Natalie’s lab, he thinks he is a lapdog.  I’ll have to post some pictures soon, he’s precious) jump up and licks my face, and, essentially, the inside of my mouth.  He saw a opportunity, and he went for it.  I mean, he literally tried to make out with me!  Briscoe was very upset and jumped on the couch to make her presence known, and I was literally at the bottom of a dog pile for a few seconds.  Gag. 

I’m sad MJ died.  But, at the same time, I can’t imagine him getting old.  It seems like Icons like Michael as suppose to have tragic endings.  I know that is a terrible thing to say, I don’t mean that they NEED to have tragic endings, but it just seems like they normally do, and it ends up being more surprising when they end up old than when they die fairly young.  I feel sure that drug abuse accounts for many tragic celebrity deaths, and I can’t say that it sounds like Michael’s was any different. 

Regardless, I’ve watched the video of Thriller a few times since late yesterday afternoon, and I can’t get the images out of my head.  The yellow eyes, the bloody mouths of the zombies, and their arms rotting off…I’m going to have nightmares. 

I had a hearing today in a case about $5,000 in stolen cds from a storage facility.  We represent the storage facility.  I hope I won. 

I tried to get a frosty this morning on my way back to work from the courthouse but you would not have believed the line at Wendy’s.  I guess the word has gotten out and everyone is trying to get their free frosty.  Maybe I’ll try again on my way home. 

Oh, an update on the palmetto bugs, I had the Orkin man come spray outside on wednesday, and this made the roaches mad, and they staged a siege against the house.  Natalie and I killed like eight in a ten minute period. 

As Natalie was picking up a victim of the chemical weapon Raid, she said, “Man, I hope none of the roaches try to carry the dogs off.” 

I said, “Did you read my blog today?  I just wrote about that!”

She hadn’t read the entry.  These roaches are just THAT SERIOUS.  But I saw a lot of dead ones scattered across the front and back yard and I’m hoping that it will get better.  If not the orkin man will have to come back.  It’s a war.

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Is the Palmetto Bug.  A.K.A. The Flying Roach. 

I can deal with a whole lot of things, and flying roaches are not on that list.  They make me die a little inside every time one gets close to me.  Which is unfortunate, since I come in close contact with them on a regular basis these days.  I have the Orkin man on speed dial and he told me today that it was a battle we were going to have to fight together.  They live outside, these are not the sort of roaches that inhabit the inside of your walls.  These are the kind of roaches who might fly off with your dog if you leave her in the backyard for too long. 

Although, I do have to say that these roaches have nothing on this sucker that lives in maggie’s parents pond.  I swear to the heat of the South Georgia summer that thing in the water is a giant catfish.  Who Maggie swears wants to eat her dog. 

This train of thought is going to spin off in two different directions – one – animals around here that want to eat your dog – over in Aiken they have collected 7 monster pythons – man-eating pythons as they are called – and placed them in a big pit to see how they survive.  Sweet.  This sounds like a HORRIBLE experiment.  Apparently a bunch of pet shops carried these man eating pythons in Florida back in the ’90s and a lot of the snakes escaped in the destruction of Hurricane Andrew.   (side note – Florida is like another country.  When you enter Florida on I-95 the big trucks have to go through a customs like check point.  How weird is that?)

A direct quote from the article –

While pythons don’t make a habit of attacking people and most aren’t large enough to eat a person, Gibbons called the possibility a “nightmare.”

“What about the first kitty cat they eat? Or the first little poodle? They’d love poodles, I imagine,” he said.

Mike Dorcas, a professor at Davidson College in North Carolina, has sliced open pythons in Florida to find the remains of white-tailed deer, bobcats and large birds.

Then this last part – 

Pythons are masters of disguise — slippery and quick — and all but one of the serpents was invisible within minutes of being deposited into the pit.

So counting pythons in the wild is a daunting task. Scientists don’t have an accurate estimate of how many pythons are in Florida.

“It’s certainly in the thousands, or tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands,” said Gibbons. 

The other train of thought is the safety of the fish you catch in the Central Savannah River Area.  I thought it was interesting that the parts of the river that do have advisories say – one meal per week.  Is that one fish per week?  Because, my meal is not the same as some other people’s meal.  Some people could eat four fish. 

So, we do a lot of quiet title actions around here, which is how you clear title to a piece of property that has been sold at a sheriff’s sale when the property taxes haven’t been paid.  Although quiet title actions do not normally involve any particularly complicated legal principles, the difficulty lies in finding all the people who have ever had a claim of title to the property and serving them, which often time includes adjacent land owners or the heirs of an estate.  Which means I spend a lot of time trying to find people and figuring out how to serve them in Jamaica, New York, or Erie, Indiana, or, as the case was today – Denver, Colorado. 

The process server I found in Denver is a fleet of bike couriers.  How cool is that?  This time my petition to quiet title is going to be delivered by bike!  This really made my day.  And the guy I talked to on the phone was so nice and friendly and it made me really wish I was in Colorado.  I got really Colorado Home Sick.  Or maybe I’m just, IT IS REALLY HOT HERE SICK. 

Last night at tennis clinic I got to play singles with Jane.  AGGHH.  I LOVE singles.  I love singles so much more than doubles.  In doubles I feel like I’m in the way, or the wrong place, or I should have made that shot because I’m letting my partner down.  In singles, I know where I’m suppose to be the whole time.  Maybe I’m not always there, but the knowing is much more instinctive.  It’s been so much fun getting back into a sport.  I haven’t played a game in a really long time and I didn’t even know how much I missed it. 

Briscoe has been sleeping in the new big bed with me recently and every morning I wake up I feel the need to grab her toe and sing to her about catching a tiger by the toe.  She fails to see the humor and normally either tries to bite me or kick me.

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Happy Father’s Day!

The best Trav quote I have from this past week goes something like this:

Me: Daddy – you won’t believe this awesome frosty deal they have, you can get a free frosty for six months! (Trav loves frostys and I had been really excited about telling him the good news).

Trav: No joke, I’ve had a frosty tag for weeks.* That’s old news. What I always do is go into the Wendy’s and get a frosty then go through the drive thru and get another one, then you almost have a whole frosty. The mini frostys are too dinky to only eat one – but you don’t even have to buy anything to get one.

*the frosty fundraiser started on may 26.

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Y’all will not believe the awesome thing that happened to me today.  I love Wendys, I always get a baked potato and a jr cheese burger and a big drink and a mini frosty (I like the little ones, the big ones melt before I can eat them, and if I try to eat them before they melt I get a brain freeze).  This ends up being a great deal of food for $5.  But you have to be careful with potato, sometimes they forget to give you really important parts of the potato like the butter and the salt. 

Regardless, as the lady was handing me my precious little mini frosty today, she asked me if I’d like to a frosty key tag, which would entitle me to get a mini frosty whenever I wanted for free for the next six months.  I asked her how much it would cost to do such an amazing thing, and she said a dollar.  A DOLLAR. 

I am now the proud owner of a Frosty Key Tag that is the greatest fundraiser I have ever heard in my entire life.  The proceeds go to the MCG Children’s Medical Center, so I apologize to all of you who do not live in the CSRA.  I didn’t get to write my name on a shoe or a ballon or anything, but I do have a plastic frosty hanging from my keys. 

I might stop by the other wendys on my way home and redeem my first free frosty.

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Ahh, Summertime.

The orkin man called me today to tell me that they have a special on mosquito treatments right now.  A steal for only $70 a month. 

When I got to work this morning it was so hot in my office that I almost had to go downstairs to the conference room to drink my coffee. 

Right now the temperature is 93, but it feels like 98. 

I have the unceasing desire to sit outside and drink beer. 

Sitting inside and drinking diet coke is a poor substitute.

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We had a trial yesterday.  Trials don’t happen very often in my line of the law, and so when they do it is a big deal.  We worked all last week and all Sunday afternoon to be prepared.  I was at the courthouse at 8:15 to get someone to show me the multimedia.  Trial was suppose to start at 10 but didn’t start till around 11 because the judge was trying to clear his criminal calendar, which meant all the ADAs and PDs and lots of attorneys were at the courthouse, which is always fun and made me miss being in court. 

We picked a jury, went to lunch, argued a motion and won, and started the case.  All the sudden it was 4 pm.  The Plaintiff’s attorney was still on his first witness.  Then inadmissible evidence was introduced, the jury was quickly ushered out and the judge declared a mis-trial.  AGGGHH.  I find this intensely frustrating.  Regardless, I was back at my office around 5, and left from there to go to a happy hour for our paralegal’s birthday.  I had a glass of wine and a beer over the course of about two hours.  I got home around 8 and decided to go for a jog.  It was really pretty and I felt like it was starting to cool off (it was only 89 degrees with 100% humidity). 

I ran about three miles, with some good hills, and ended my run right at the house, put briscoe on a leash and walked her for about a mile.  At happy hour I munched on a couple of snacks, and when I finally finished working out in the heat I was anything but hungry.  It was getting late, I took a shower and watched tv and ate a bowl of cereal for dinner.  I didn’t sleep well. 

This morning I ate a Z bar and drank coffee.  When I got to the office I realized I’d left my water bottle at home (nerds!) which was fatal mistake number 2 (number 1 was going for a 4 mile workout after drinking wine and eating potato skins). 

Fatal mistake number 3 occurred at lunch.  We went to picadilly cafeteria.  I don’t like this place, but my partners do, and I’ve gotten to the point where I always get the baked chicken and mac and cheese and green beans and I’m safe.  Well today, I didn’t feel like chicken.  I was HUNGRY!  And I got the chicken pot pie. 

I should have known this was a poor choice because it was sort of creamy and rich looking and I haven’t been tolerating rich food well as of late.  But I wasn’t thinking. 

So after lunch, things went from bad to worse.  I started to cramp and sweat and shake.  Even my toes were cramping.  I had to come home around 2 and lay on the cool bathroom tile.  I never actually got sick, even though I would have given anything to have just thrown up and felt better. 

I’ve been trying to choke down gatorade and ginger ale all afternoon.  I’ve been eating saltines.  I keep thinking I feel better so I get up to do something and I just feel weak as water.  I must feel better tomorrow.  I must. 

We’ve had a very mild summer so far and it was much hotter yesterday than it has been.   I’m not in excellent shape.  I haven’t been working out enough to go out and run in the heat like that, especially not after drinking wine.  I know better.

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Neil Patrick Harris is hosting the Tony’s tonight.  I really, really, really like Neil Patrick.

Sigh.  Too bad I’m not his type.  Otherwise I really think we could make it work.


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1.  Call Bloomingdales from work to order lingere for bachelorette party.  Try to be quiet as you ask for Hanky Panky Low Rise Thong.  When the girl ask you if you want the ones with lace all over or not, try to ignore that your boss just walked in the room and is looking at you like you are crazy. 

2.  Call Clerk’s office in Florida.  As soon as clerk picks up the phone, scream bloody murder because the wasp that has been buzzing around your office all day that you thought your boss killed with a broom earlier has crawled up onto your desk and across your mouse and onto your hand. 

3.  Stop to talk to your neighbor after running a few miles in the heat.  Stand there, with blank look on your face and try not to be concerned that you have no idea what you just said but you are pretty sure the neighbor thinks it is strange that you are still in their driveway.  Wander off. 

4.  After you have attended a tennis clinic for three weeks, and spent the entire third week clinic hitting with the instructor, call him by the wrong name in a loud voice in front of the whole class.  Thanks Nick!  (CHARLSIE!  HIS NAME IS RICK!  NOT NICK!  AGGHH IDIOT). 

5.  When the mother of the groom comes to retrieve him from the bar at 2 am on Friday night after the rehearsal dinner, hop on in the car with him and try to be supportive of his demands to go to Krystal.  When you find rubble where the neighborhood Krystal USED to be (torn down for renovations – literally, levelled), find the next closest Krystal with Google maps and place the order while hanging out of the back window of his mother’s car.  Try to keep the car clean by taking the remaining chiks and cheese krystals that remain in the bag into your house when they drop you off first.   

6.  Send the runner on errands such as 1.   Pick up Briscoe’s flea medicine from vet 2.  Get jewelry cleaned  3.  Pick up Blizzard (small, peanut butter cup).

7.  Neglect your dry cleaning long enough to where you have to pick it up on the way to work in order to have anything suitable to wear that day. 

8.  Wage war on the dandilions in your yard.  Dig the roots up with a shovel if necessary  (my dad saw me trying to get the whole root of this dandilion the other day and told me to stop being weird.  I told him to leave me alone and let me be weird in my own backyard – he told me not to act like that in my front yard).

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