Tuesday, January 18, 2011


I am REALLY happy. REALLY. Like I keep walking around just smiling. It's an odd feeling to be this giddy and have nothing going on. In fact, to have the opposite of anything going on. I'm studying for the bar. I spent today with my head up constitutional law's ass. (Making my founding fathers proud with that sentence.) I've barely even really left the house in a week. And yet: fucking retarded happy. New love kind of happy. And I'm actually really thrilled it has nothing to DO with new love. It's been a whopping three weeks since I've even made out with anyone. Starting off 2011 not hooking up. Go figure. So this is just all me. Wait, I have an anthem for this. I too can occasionally rock the cheesy.

But. It's funny, ya know? To have a happiness about what's going on with your life, to be content and finally have some decisions made on a path. To know that even the bar is doable. I did a bunch of MBE's (multiple choice questions) on evidence and got more right than wrong. Something is starting to click. It's in my brain. It needs effort and focus, which I'm still working on, but I know it's in there.

Oh, and the ice between my mother and I has thawed without any blow ups. Amazing. Pigs may very well fly soon. I wouldn't be shocked. Just amused.

I went to my dad's house Saturday because it was obscenely gorgeous here in San Francisco (it still is, actually) and I wanted to study outside. Which, naturally, I didn't actually do, but the thought was nice. We went for a quick walk with the beasties along the beach before my dad had to go to work. He said he was going to the girlfriend's house in Santa Rosa after work and probably staying there so I thought, "Screw it! I can stay here." The only problem with that thought process was I hadn't brought a change of clothes.

Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed my evening. Made myself a nice roast chicken for dinner with carrots, snacked on my favorite cheese and salami before that and walked across the street to watch the sun set. (Despite the subtitle of the blog, it does occasionally happen.) I got sucked down the Hulu wormhole yet again and finished off Being Erica. Season 1 was stronger than Season 2 but that's not gonna stop me from watching season 3 as soon as it stars airing down here (down because it's Canadian, see?).

I was pondering the clothes issue when I remembered that I had brought a bunch of clothes for Goodwill and that they were probably still downstairs. AHA! I raided those and found something to sleep in and something to wear the next day. It was kinda perfect.

While I was rummaging in the downstairs room, I looked through the dresser down there, which is essentially my room, and discovered something that made me laugh hysterically: a baseball hat belonging to a guy I hooked up with in late October. I had a) forgotten I had hooked up with him at my dad's house and b) forgotten that he left his baseball hat and I shoved it in a drawer there. It's like finding hidden treasures. Ya know, when you leave chocolate in a drawer and you're like "Oh! Chocolate!" Or reach in a coat pocked and find $5. Except for reminders of what I do. Also funny that I have so thoroughly blocked out this guy that I had totally forgotten the hat was there. I should wear it to the bar some night. This would amuse only me. It's not a team or hat that's particularly meaningful (SDSU, for you Aztec fans) but still...kinda funny, right?

I ended up sleeping 'til noon on Sunday, which was amazing, and lazed around the house. I heard the door open around 4, after just starting to finally study, and was like "huh". My dad had come home with Angela as she had Monday off. They brought stuff to make for dinner. A chicken and roasted vegetables. And my favorite cheese to snack on. Same meal two nights in a row. It's fairly healthy, I'm down with it. (Side note: been eating really well [not tonight so much, mom's cooking again], but need to get back to the gym.) We hung out, chatted, enjoyed a meal. Began discussing the new Showtime show that is going to follow the Giants. This led to me introducing him to the genius that is Caps/Pens 24/7 on HBO (the inception of my love of Brooks Laich). If the Giants show is anything like the genius of that, I'm perfectly okay with cameras following around our players. I don't see why anyone is objecting to it. I'm rewatching the 24/7 right now and listening to Crosby swear is hysterical. It seems so...ridiculous. Like when kids swear.

Digression: in other sports nerdyness: The NFL may or may not go to a lockout soon which may or may not mean a loss of a shit ton of revenue for like EVERYONE. I enjoy the heck out of sports law conflicts. It's the only kind of law I truly get excited about. Hey, we all got our things. Anyway, that whole pot of conflict is brewing and if you are interested in it, was linked through the twitters to this article. Also follow Greg Ailleo's tweets if you want to be pissed off. Congress has better things to do? For serious? Because I thought Congress being involved in a multibillion dollar business about to go off the rails over quibbling is EXACTLY what they are supposed to do, you rich asshats. Neither side is really "right" but it's not a right wrong issue. It's a get to the table and negotiate issue. Players aren't the ones worth all the money, honestly, and owners will claim 'til the day they die in a loss of revenue. Anyway, not to go on too much of a tangent about that, but brush up on your Sherman Antitrust analysis and union decertification if you are interested, which I am. I also think the NFLPA using litigation as a necessary means to get the owners to do what they are supposed to do is sound legal tactics and I'm totally down with the collusion charges. (Why can't the bar be all sports law? Or, ya know, ANY sports law? Sigh.)

Anyway, I felt good after the night at my dad's and hanging with my beasties. My dad had three dogs. A boxer mix, a boxer, and our giant headed pit bull. Elsa, the boxer mix, at 15 years old was put down a couple weeks ago. And while that's sad, she had a great life. Maverick, our giant headed pit, wait, here's a picture:

He's very pretty. When my dad first got him, like a year ago, I was terrified of him. I mean, that picture does nothing for scale but he's a BIG dog. And intimidating. Really though? He's a big giant baby. No, seriously, wouldn't hurt a fly. Well...he has dog aggression issues but people? He climbs onto my lap ON TO MY LAP. All ninety pounds of him. Like it's no big thing. And then he yawns and I could stick my whole hand in there and I laugh. He's sorta fantastic and I lurve him and laying on the couch with him.

I finally came home Sunday afternoon to my other dog, who I adore greatly too and spend more time cuddling with than I think any other dog we've owned ever.

I don't talk a lot about my dogs because I'm probably not far away from spinster crazy dog owner (it will NEVER be cats. I have an allergy. And fucking cats, ya know?) but my dogs are awesome and I love them and now I sound ridiculous. So just know that even though bar study is self imposed exile, I got the cuddly behbes to hang out with, the beach house for respite and conversations with my dad, and a bankers lamp on my desk. I love bankers lamps.

Now I hope this post didn't totally jinx me and I end up miserable and unhappy (I am superstitious) but there it is.

Just gotta ACTUALLY study now. 

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