On Maintaining Friendships as an Adult After a Move

That's a wordy title. Sorry? And oft neglected blog blah blah. If anyone gets this still...some issues I'm dealing with: 

La Vie

Man, I really suck at posting anymore, huh? About a year ago I was like, "I'm gonna write ALL THE TIME! And, like, dedicate myself to this and be on top of it! And get good!" The gods laughed at my plans and I think I did the opposite.

On the other hand, you should thank me for not just sprouting bs for the sake of sprouting bs. I could do that, but then it would diminish the value of this...free service that I provide that is most of the time me shouting into the ether.

Anyway, updates! List form!

Super Bowl

Were you excited for the 49ers return to the Super Bowl?! That was played in one of my most favorite cities, New Orleans?!

Interesting...

There's been a lot going on these past few weeks in this place I'm from.

Sorry for the slight absence. I've been, dare I say, kinda busy?

Several things. List form. You know the drill.

Happy Birthday, America!

I saw a girl punch another girl on the 4th of July. It wasn't even 9 p.m. AMERICA!

After a particularly angsty July 3rd, Cheryl decided we needed to do something on the 4th. At her urging, I decided that seeing actual fireworks wouldn't be such a bad thing. I usually avoid any and all crowded events because ugh crowds. But I was coaxed out of my usual introvert shell and made a plan to meet Cheryl in her neighborhood, the Marina, so we could grab dinner and then head over to the greens to grab a spot and see the fireworks.

'Keep Being Awesome'

It was likely a throw away line at the end of an email from a friend but it was a much needed affirmation.

This past week was...interesting. It started out with me feeling all kick ass and take names, leveled off a bit in the middle, got really rough with gasping sobs on the couch on Saturday night and then rebounded with people finally being human on Sunday, after a couple others completely weren't.

4th & Goal (More on Sports)

Have I ever told you about my friend D? I love D. In a totally platonic way. I paid him to be my trainer for about 3 years where he acted as part trainer/part therapist. During that time, despite the initial paid arrangement, D became a great friend.

This and That

Alcohol has this amazing way of at the time making you feel absolutely invincible and witty and fantastic. The next day, as it wends its way out of your system, it will make you feel like a giant ball of failure. I definitely feel the latter today. I somehow got accidentally drunk on a Wednesday night. Yep. Accidentally. Not my fault. 2 beers with the amazing and fantastic Linds, in town on a short jaunt from New Hampshuh, somehow turned into knowing vaguely that I went to a certain bar last night where I'm sure I had a beer but no recollection today of actually being there. I win at life. And I lost my credit card. Again. Geezus H Christ, Lisa, get your shit together.

Which is kind of funny because I HAD been feeling together. Probably the effect of NOT drinking and not going out. I need to go back to that. Thinking of a six month cleansing sabbatical after LSU plays in the National Title Game. I was applying to jobs, focusing on some goals, trying not to panic about not having any money at all. But I backslid into bad behavior and now I'm doing research for my "client" (I can't have a client. It feels weird. So quotes.) and feeling like I am never ever gonna be a good lawyer. That's amazing.

Anyway. I started two very different posts yesterday but could never manage to finish them and found them boring. One was on how no one actually understands the first amendment and how that makes me want to kill them and the other was a reflection on my dogs. You're welcome for not hitting publish. Instead, I have some random thoughts I'll spit out in list form.

1. Unsolicited endorsement: I don't consider myself a music person. I like pop music, I don't think too much about new hip bands, and I can't tell you the last time I saw a live show of any sort. My interest is very passive. But I was watching a TV show the other night and this song by a band called the Lumineers was played at the end and I fell in love. I've listened to it at least 2 dozen times, if not far more. I'll probably hate it at some point and never want to hear it again but for now it's on an endless loop. So listen and I hope you like it too and if/when they play here, I plan on going and being hip and listening to a live band.

2. About that TV show: I was watching Hart of Dixie. It's the sort of ridiculous CW fare that I am knowing for loving (though I was on the Veronica Mars bandwagon long before that was cool). I make no apologies. I even sort of think they are attempting to get a little bit of Southern culture right with the main hang out bar being called the Rammer Jammer, a reference to the University of Alabama. Rachel Bilson is freaking adorable. (Even if my college roommate tainted my view of her by saying that when they were in HS together she was a bitch. I still am a bitch so I won't hold that against her.)

Jaime King is also in this show where she plays the over the top kind of Southern girl that Hollywood gets wrong. She is never not in some floral patterned summer dress with so much mascara on she can't possibly keep her eyes open. Her focus is Junior League and other silly festivals, all of which she treats with the utmost importance. And something about this character just grates on me. That sort of over-simplified sorority girl thing that doesn't actually exist in the South. I also don't really get the characters motivations and why I'm supposed to care about her or why she's with the guy she's with (a major plot issue on the show) other than that's just the way it's always been.

After watching the show on Monday, I off the cuff tweeted how I was annoyed by the stereotypes of the character and wish she'd been more complexly drawn. Don't give it a second though.

Last night, as I'm half in the bag already because I was drinking and hadn't eaten since breakfast, a response tweet shows up. Jaime King has taken exception to my characterization of her character. First of all: my criticism is not of her acting. It's of the way the character has been drawn. I'm smart enough to know that she's not the one that writes the character, just imbues the words with life. Secondly, if I looked like Jaime King, what some bitchy insignificant girl in San Francisco thinks of my character while I get to be, ya know, JAIME KING, wouldn't matter. In the least.  Seriously. I WISH I looked like this, lived in Hollywood, was doing well in my career, made out with Scott Porter for work. (Actually I'd rather make out with Wilson Bethel but that's a different issue.)

But, in the way that I do, I've now been obsessing about what about the character bugs me and been thinking way harder about it, giving it far more creedance than I should because I somehow managed to upset Ms. King. So: the character is frivilous and silly and focuses on all these pageants and causes while absolutely ignoring those around her. I really, as mentioned, don't understand the relationship she's in and would like background on those choices. She is obviously in love with someone else so sticking with this current guy rings false and I don't like the lack of guilt at her cheating. Her hatred of big city living isn't well explored. I get enjoying small town life but the hatred of big city life just because is narrow minded. I do appreciate that she loves this small town and wants to protect. The constant gowns are silly and the hats and the...look, this is 2011. Let's not pretend all small town Southern girls are so stuck in a time warp. The Southern girls, the fierce Southern girls I know, are far more complex than is being portrayed. All that said, I think the character does have true heart and her love for her town and protection her family are admirable and interesting qualities. The mother issues and being conflicted about love even while rushing headlong in one direction are areas that have potential to be really interesting.

Yeah. That's a lot of words on a CW show. That I actually really enjoy. But, ya know, I, silly girl in SF, somehow managed to upset a Hollywood actress so I thought I'd attempt to clarify my stance. The internet is really weird you guys. But since this is apparently how it works: if Chris Evans would like to contact me and hang out, I'd be down. Also: I want to marry Brooks Laich. So. Let's make that happen, mkay, internet?

3. Speaking of shows: That season finale of Sons of Anarchy was total crap. You owe your viewers more respect than that, Kurt. It was such a poorly drawn, easy out on the season long storyline it was insulting. But Justified is back soon and that will make me forgive FX a little bit.

4. I'm putting this here just because I don't want to forget it and I have the worst memory ever, even though it feels braggy to me: Linds and I were having a heart to heart over a pint yesterday, first time we've seen each other since May even though we gchat almost daily and we're just talking about life and all things in general and Linds says, "You seem like you've matured a lot in the last few months." I said something self deprecating like, "Which makes zero sense because I haven't actually DONE anything." And Linds said, "No! You have. You're really takin this time to consider the kind of person you want to be and making changes. That's really important." And I thought, "Huh. There's probably some truth to that." It made me feel really good! I'm on the path to not being a total screw up, apparently. Then I got drunk and acted like a jerk so there is still mad work to be done. And I really suck at this whole "being a lawyer trying to figure out the kabillion things they didn't teach us in law school" thing. So. Yeah. Baby steps?

5. Linds and I were talking about one of our law school classmates who lives near her in New England. Linds said, "I can't hang out with her because she's too optimistic. Does that say something about me as a human being that I only like dark twisty people in my life?" The funny thing is that I knew exactly what she meant. I've known some sickeningly saccharine people in my life and I just want to punch them. I told her I didn't think there was anything wrong with her because it made perfect sense to me. When you're THAT optimistic it feels like a disconnect from reality. Sometimes shit just sucks, yo, and if you can't admit that then that's...weird.

6. Hey! The trailer for that movie that was filming in SF where I met Jason Segel and Emily Blunt is up! That's cool.

And that's all I got for now, kids. I'm gonna go fail at being a lawyer some more while staring at my red sparkly Christmas nails. It's kind of nice to have football wrapped up for a month so my superstitious nature gets put at bay and I can actually do something besides purple. It's the little things...

A Wedding and A Londoner

My good friends got married on Friday. Yes, they had an 11-11-11 wedding. And I was super happy for them. Their wedding on the other hand? Folks, I promise you if I ever get married and have a big fancy wedding (which it will be big and fancy because along with football fanatic, I am a princess), I will have a wedding planner to make sure shit runs smooth. You need to have someone take care of all the ball busting on the day of the wedding, to make sure people are in their place and things are running on time, because you're too busy being happy in love. Or whatever.

Weekend Lunacy

You guys. It was...pretty epic. It involved doing shots of Crown Royal with the Canadian Navy (all of who were super ridiculously good looking. I mean, even their girls were really pretty. Like stunningly. Like way too pretty to be trapped on a ship. Gorgeous. And the guys were all tall and...Canadian.) It involved accomplishing a long held goal of sorts. It involved kicking the ever loving pants off the University of Florida in football. It was full of win. And then the worst hangover of football season/the year so far on Sunday which is kind of a loss. Oh, and it involved ordering a replacement credit card. So. Yeah.

On this day...

I was born. At 1:48 p.m. at St. Mary's hospital (native of a native). 26 years ago (lie). That my 26th birthday won't involve bawling in the hallway of a hotel after a wedding, like my 25th (lie), is a-okay with me.

That whole "I hate the 4th weekend" thing? It's a direct result of having a holiday weekend birthday wherein no one is around. This is what I tell myself. Chances that no one would likely give a fuck anyway and that birthdays are not magical days where you get to be a fairy princess who is a size six and married to Brooks Laich (man of my dreams) while riding through an enchanted forest on a paint pony, incapable of getting hangovers? High. (This, by the way, describes my ideal birthday.)

But! This year feels different. Because my beloved friends share a wedding anniversary with my birthday now, I checked in with them and discovered they were celebrating on the 3rd, but free on the 2nd. So I did a BBQ at my house yesterday and it was AWESOME. First of all: my peeps are straight amazing. Smart, funny, ridiculous. A perfect blend of highly educated and street smart. They spent a vast majority of the night working their way through a bottle of Jameson, making fart jokes and fake kung fu fighting on my back deck. They also took my dad's camera when he left it lying around and took pictures of their junk. It was like we were legally drunk 13 year olds. And it was fucking fun.

Later on my dad yelled at my bestie who ALWAYS gets mad at me for having too much random knowledge in my head, as I discussed the psychology of dogs. He got all finger pointy and my dad said, "You point your finger at her again, I'm going to break it off and feed it to Maverick!" Daddy's girl forrreeevverr. (He also rallied from his own previous hangover to clean up his house and make us ribs.) But that same bestie, who knows that my drinking speed is ON gave me a birthday card that on the outside says "Celebrating your birthday? Present the enclosed car to any bartender for your FREE BIRTHDAY DRINK!" Inside? A coupon that says "Excuse me, may I please have a glass of water?" This after getting us drunk on Happy Brooks Re-Signing with Washington Day! (Not a real thing, just us managing to go out on a Tuesday and get drunk. As good a reason as any.) He's all, "I'm ready to leave and here comes Lisa with two more drinks! Geeezzusss." *shrug* What can I say? I forgive him for getting mad at me for knowing stuff.

We ate a ton of good food (ribs, caesar salad, potato salad, chips and guacamole), drank a ton of beer and were all merry and fun for several hours. It rocked. The amount of bottles stacked on the counter at the end of the night made this place look like a frat house. I'm proud of us.

So basically I get to spend my actual birthday hungover. Which is alright. It's sunny here, I don't have to get really dressed and am gonna go fall asleep in a chair on the back deck in the sun. Except I don't have any Dr Pepper. It would take a four block walk to get some. I'm not moving. And then tonight I am going to the ever cheesy Tonga room for a mai tai and dinner with my mom and stepdad.

All that said, this is off to a pretty awesome start and despite no one being around, I got plenty of texts and tweets and the ever important facebook messages. (You don't know you're loved until it's declared on Facebook.)

Here's to 26 (lie) being the best year ever!

Update: My dad went to the store and got me Dr Pepper. Honestly? Best birthday present. I'm gonna be giving it up on Tuesday in an effort to actually honest to god lose weight so I can be that ever elusive size six (never gonna happen). This is gonna be super difficult. I love this stuff. It is my crack. But for now? Imma drink it all.

Settle a Debate

Did you watch the video? Watch the video. And then watch it again and again and again. You'll want to anyway. Because it's Robyn and she's awesome and the song is catchy.

Now. You need to settle a debate. Which is really a stupid debate because it is two people listening to a piece of art and interpreting in different, probably not wrong, ways. We're likely both right. But the fun of being a grown up is having the debate. Seriously, the amount of words spent on debating a pop song is bordering on ridiculous. (We also watched The Vampire Diaries pilot episode tonight and live, virtually, discussed it. It's gonna be a long summer, folks.)

So:
Andy's opinion (paraphrasing): the song should be taken at lyrical face value and is a song about a friends with benefits situation, or FWB as the cool kids say. His evidence: "I know what's on your mind there will be time for that too...if you hang with me."

My opinion: It's an anti-jinx song, sort of. I'm delving into some psychology here but it's a doth protest song. "Don't fall recklessly headlessly in love with me cuz it's gonna be all heartbreak, blissfully, painful, insanity..." is the warning you give when it's already too late. It's also a self warning. "This is gonna suck but here we are...in love." Or else why would you want someone to pick you up again? This is you fell in love with your best friend story. This is the shit romcoms are made of. Or at least that's how I read the song.

Now: some clarifications: I am a music fan in the way that I am a beer or wine fan. If it is made with hops/grapes, I'm pretty sold so long as it is not swill. I take a passing interest in most music, play it to death, move on. I like catchy pop music, 80s hair metal, and classical pops along with standards. I am mostly not picky. But I happen to really like Robyn and though my musical taste is pedestrian at best, I linked Andy the song before he did to me. Winna!

But! Andy is like insane about music. He writes about it. For realz. He links me stuff that is akin to listening to Miles Davis for the first time where I go, "I don't get this" and scratch my head feeling older than I prefer to. I inevitably like the thing about a song that he hates, or hate the thing he likes. I don't GET most of it, which is annoying. That OMFGABFDJIBSdb whatever BS makes absolutely zero sense to me and frankly I'm okay with that. So his bend is usually more musically inclined than my "that beat is good". Take that for what it's worth.

Now, people of the internet: What say you?

A. Take it at face value, it's a hook up song for friends with benefits.
B. It's a love song for someone who is already in love.

Minor Things

I don't really have anything fascinating to stay, but I made a vow to write more so LISTS! (I do love lists, in case you haven't noticed.)

After School Special

Guuuhh. Last night was...

I'm stone cold sober. That should about explain it. Except it doesn't and I have to explain even that. And some other things. For myself. And for the world at large because they seem to just NOT be getting it.

I felt like I was in an After School Special about avoiding peer pressure. Except I was with a group of adults.

Decisions and Cooking

Do you ever feel paralyzed by making decisions? Even the really little ones? Like there are just too many choices? Tom Petty sang that the future is wide open but maybe it's frighteningly wide open. At least that's how I feel lately.

Officially

So. Yeah. I <3 hockey. I watched my first ever full game yesterday with the bestie. And beer. And: you're welcome, Caps fans, because my sudden fandom? You're star player who had been having a scoring dry spell suddenly has a hat trick. Wut wut. I rock. Thanks, lucky red underwear! (You know nothing about me if you think that's a joke.)

Bake-A-Thon

When the holidays roll around, I use it as an excuse to bake like a fiend. I've gone through 7 pounds of flour, four pounds of butter, at least a dozen eggs...and I'm nowhere near done.

So far I've made:
2 batches of polk-a-dot cookies (chocolate cookies with bright green mint chips)
2 batches of white chocolate, macadamia, cranberry cookies
2 batches of peanut butter cookies (I'm not particularly enamored with these and they may be moved out of the rotation)
1 batch regular old chocolate chip
1 batch of mexican butter cookies with sprinkles
2 cheesecakes


All of this while battling my sinuses which are driving me BANANAS and my family, who are mercifully all at work this morning, but also driving me bananas. I am just in NO mood, folks.

That is until I turn on the Christmas carols and zone out stirring, mixing, folding. Michael asked me last night why I go all crazy with the baking. Frankly, I find it relaxing. It's sort of zen. It doesn't require heavy thought. I think all of what I make is really good, but it's not original. I'm following a recipe, someone else's directions. Sure, I add and subtract and change minor things but essentially, someone else has made sure the things work. And cookies make people happy. It's an easy gift. Giving my trainer a cheesecake every year is a seriously simple thing I can do to make someone happy. I jokingly threw in a plastic fork and knife to the box I put his cheesecake in this year. I get a text that he's on BART eating it. I mean that just makes my day.

In quasi-related news: I started a "Look, I'm a fatass!" blog. It's tedious and boring and more for me than you (insert usual self deprecating joke here). Even the title refers to how boring dieting is and talking about dieting is and actually dieting is. But. If you felt compelled, there it is. Don't worry, faithful few, any inspired content will be reserved for here.

Lots of non-sequiturs tonight so: Despite last week's horoscope telling me to go out and have some damn fun, I've been hiding in the house with my baking. I just can't muster it. It's cold. I actually like not drinking and waking up with bad decisions lingering in brain. But: I'm dragging myself out tonight. I need to talk to people not related to me so I can stop talking to myself. Out loud. In public. Which I have caught myself doing a frightening number of times lately. I am headed to meet Cheryl in her neighborhood. Which is of course the Marina. I'm sort of determined to stay away from my brother's bars so we'll see how that goes... (Probably impossible since they are ALL "his" bars. I would have liked to stick to Sunset/Richmond Irish bars [something about the holidays makes me nostalgic] but Cheryl is Asian and thus can consume 2 drinks before drunk so it's safer in her 'hood.)

In more other news: I saw Forever Tango with my mother today. It was meh. Not as good as Burn the Floor. Favorite moments though: 1. Me saying, after the 45 minute show, "That's it? That's a lot of money for 45 minutes." Mom, "Didn't you read the program? Or wonder why no one was leaving? It's intermission!" Me, "Oooohhhh." 2. Mom, "I thought this would be more exciting. More flamenco-y." Me, "Um, then that would be flamenco, and not tango. It's called forever TANGO." Mom, "Oooohhh." Apparently there's some holiday fatigue setting in. We're not usually this retarded.

So those are the current goings on. Hopefully more to report tomorrow...

Imaginary Christmas Gifts

For the first time in a long time I am, like the Italians of the 17th century, baaaarooooquueee (nerd joke).

And yet I want to GIVE! Give give give! So, much like the bequeaths you did in high school, (you did do those, right? It's one of the few things our high school did normal like. The snobby hs with no prom kings and queens, no stupid homecoming, no stupid homecoming court [of which I'm grateful for, less chances to feel like a loser]) I'm making a list of what I would give you, lovely people I know, if I had unlimited resources. Enjoy the fantasy as much as I do!

Andy. This one's easy. Because your raised in Central Florida self needs to learn how to eat real fucking food. Seriously. This just depresses me. It's sad. You know what else Andy divulged? Christmas eve dinner is McDonald's. My foodie heart died a little. Sure, I realize you're 20 and can shove whatever you want in your body with minimal side effect...that sounds way dirtier than it was meant to...but that doesn't mean you SHOULD. Sure, I had the advantage of growing up in food snobby San Francisco with parents who took me to fancy restaurants as a child. I was mocked at LSU for balking at chain restaurants. Applebee's commercials make me want to hurl. But we all know my hangover food is chicken mcnuggets, I have a secret love affair with buffalo wings, and In N Out is heavenly so I have my vices as well. It's not all organic squash blossom pizza and vegan fair (lol, like I'd eat at a vegan restaurant). Anyway, point is, with my magical Christmas powers, I bequeath to you, a food week in San Francisco, a mix of the fancy and the not so fancy. Crab diablo at Pacific Cafe. Pasta carbonara at Cafe Puccini. Bullshead burgers. Eating at the bar at Gary Danko, a trip to Woodside for steak Diane at the Bella Vista. Burritos, all those new fancy pizza places, fondue, and of course, a ballgame and garlic fries. And then something homemade that involves Caesar salad. And a trip to the candy store where we know the owners and can raid for whatever we want, including heavenly chocolate dipped Oreos. We would convert you and have you cook more when you got back because everything in Central Florida, which I am sure has it's own charm, would suddenly pale in comparison. Even your beloved Jimmy Johns or whatever it's called.

Michael. A trip on the Orient Express. You, me, Asia, Europe, high class. It'd be DIVINE! We'd be all fancy and get dressed every night and have tons of fantastic cocktails and I'd write Agatha Christie type murder mysteries while there. Le sigh!

Chuck: tickets to the Caps/Penguins Winter Classic. Like really good awesome seats. Even though it means a trip to Pittsburgh, which sounds awful. (What does one even do in Pittsburgh? #westcoastelitism)

Lindsey: A trip back to SF and a place to stay, gratis, while studying for the stupid bar exam. Every day we'd do this together. We'd be bar buddies! Of the not fun variety. We miss you!!!!

Mom: A massage a month at various spas of Northern California or wherever for as long as you want.

Kathryn: You. Me. BNBD in Chicago. (You know why.) Or Mardi Gras. It's right after the bar exam. It would be awesome!

Irene: I don't want to leave you off this list but I can't think of anything perfect so...invent what you think I should give you...knowing it's fully imaginary anyway...

You'll also notice that all of those gifts are things you do and not just things. As I've gotten older, I've learned to appreciate the time I get to spend with people and the things we go out in the world and do rather than some trinket or nicknack.

And since we're on the subject: You know what I want for Christmas? Besides that peasonearth thing everyone is supposed to want? And a waist size small enough to fit into a pair of whatever brand of jeans is currently fashionable (it used to be 7s, I'm not cool so I have no idea what it is now)?

I want my life to actually resemble one of those whacky romantic comedies that I both love and hate myself for watching all the time, thankyouverymuch. Though I'm still waiting for the pony I've been asking for since I was old enough to ask for things and wouldn't mind finally getting that...

Thanksgiving Thanks

With all the...grumbleness...of the past few days, even with the amazing friends and the serendipitous moments, I am taking a deep breath and doing my annual* Thanksgiving blog early (except obviously that didn't happen). Because I fly off to Hawaii at the butt crack of dawn tomorrow and will, hopefully, not be pulling out the computer much (but am way too much of an addict not to take it with me) (and I'm now in Hawaii and awake too early and on the computer finishing this. Because you mean that much to me!). I need to appreciate all that is around me and this day, week, was set aside for that. So here ya go.

*you don't know it's annual because this blog hasn't been around for a year, but trust me, it is.

1. I am thankful for the constancy of sports, right now more than ever. A lot doesn't make sense. The Republicans in power, failing the bar, losing friends to the far corners of the earth, the uncertainty of the future in so many ways. But every Saturday ESPN's College Game Day airs, and a whistle blows signaling kickoff. I can rely on that. Even in the uncertainty of the outcome, I am certain Les Miles and his batshit insanity will make it interesting. I have waxed poetic about this so many times, you all should know it by heart, but good god I love college football. I am not a religious person but know that I am only half joking when people say something about the NFL and I respond, "My god plays football on Saturday."

My god also plays baseball all summer and I appreciate that. I appreciate the crazy cast of characters that were this year's Giants and their bringing this city a World Series Championship.

I know it seems silly but having something I am passionate about matters to me. I'm not into politics or world events or...any of the other seemingly "important stuff". But O'Bannon v NCAA and issues with academic eligibility get me going. And so does the sheer contest and the hard hits and the marching bands and the plastic cups of coke that have been half poured out and filled with whiskey. I like arguing why watching sweatervest coach a team is endlessly boring and why Tim Tebow is both attractive and important to football and why the Pac 10 is supremely inferior to the SEC and watching Army/Navy. Also getting me going: the crack of the bat, the run to the warning track, the catcher getting the guy out at second. East Coast Yankee bias arguments. Humidors in Colorado. Duck the Fodgers. Garlic fries. Midweek, day game baseball.

And for some reason the god that plays football on Saturdays and baseball all summer thought I was fit to handle all the last second cardiac inducing wins that the Les Miles era at LSU would bring in AND the hearbreakingly close 1 run games the Giants are notorious for playing.

I don't know if I thank crazy old testament god or peace loving new testament god for that, but either way, for sports I am grateful.

2. Friends. All of you. New ones, old ones, reconnected ones, meeting in real life ones, ones who are exclusive to the way we connect in this crazy world wide internet web. Even the ones I have loved and lost. Michael, Chuck, Andy, Beth, David and Sara, Irene... you all know who you are and just because I didn't name you doesn't mean I don't love you. Every single last one of you amazingly wonderful crazy unique individuals with whom I can laugh and talk and bitch and whine. For your truthful comments and new perspectives. For giving it to me straight and not letting me get away with shit. I love my close knit group of real true compadres and want to tell silly high school me that being popular is bullshit, having 800 acquaintances so not as important as having people who have your back in a knife fight. Know that I have yours right back. There is something to said for growing up and choosing your own tribe. I am totes down with my tribe.

3. But you can't always choose your tribe. You have family. They drive me bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S. But man. I have strong women on one side and compassionate and emotional men on the other. Repressed Irish Catholics and crazy half Jewish half Southerners. They gave me green eyes, dark skin and the most awesome mutt European background anyone could ask for. They, like my friends, love me in spite of myself. We argue, we bicker, I spent a lot of time trying not to scream at my mother or strangle my brother, but at the end of the day, they too have my knife in a back fight back in a knife fight. Or a gun fight. I also love my non-family family members. An ex-stepsister and a faux stepmom. Even the slightly ridiculous stepdad. Second and third cousins twice removed. Whoever these people are that I share a little blood with. They're pretty great too. You know, when I don't want to kill them. (Ask me about this in three weeks when I'm trying to study for the bar. Again.)

4. Since I am in Hawaii, a little materialism: I am thankful for first class upgrades and unexpected surprises (redundancy). I am thankful for hotel spas and island breezes. Mai tais. Omg mai tais. I LOVE mai tais. (I am not thankful for being charged for in room internet or using fitness equipment but whatever. Imma just gonna see about beach sprints. Which should be highly amusing.) (Or: just fall asleep on a lounge chair and worry about wind sprints later.)

5. I am thankful for good health and am going to be paying better attention to that. My brother has some mystery illness, spent the night before we left for Hawaii in the ER and was ordered not to fly, so he's not here. Whatever his illness is, it involves a catheter. Yeah. Let's pay attention to our health.

6. I am thankful for an ability to bake. Baking, believe it or not, keeps me sane. That and writing. It's sort of a zen thing. Mix, stir, melt, dip... And whenever frustrated I enjoy doing it. It's also the holiday season so I have an excuse to stand in the kitchen for hours and do it without seeming deranged. I enjoy giving the end product to my family and friends and watching them devour the goodies. I look forward to going home and baking baking baking. (I have to say, being in Hawaii, while AWESOME, is also bittersweet. I love cooking for the big holidays and it's weird to not be making turkey and sweet potatoes from scratch and endlessly stirring the gravy, a job only I have taken over from my grandmother who was the master gravy maker.)

7. Thankful I'm still here. (I heard this song for the first time the other night on Great Performances, A Birthday Celebration of Stephen Sondheim. And although not 80 or even 60 or 40, there's days where slogging through it just sucks. Then I heard this song and was like, she's AWESOME. Song is awesome. I hope to be rocking out like her when I'm her age.)

One of these Sundays...

I won't be massively hung over and be an actual real live grown up. Someday. Maybe.

First: A thanks to my incredibly amazing fantastic supportive couldn't do it without them friends. And my family too. No group of people can make a girl feel more loved even in abject failure than these amazing folks. Thank you thank you thank you thank you for coming to support me and watch football with me and love me in spite of myself. Seriously. Y'all ROCK. Hard.

And now: for a time line of my Saturday.

7:30 a.m.: woke up far earlier than I am accustomed to because bar stuff was seeping into my brain.

9:00 a.m.: Left room, started getting ready for the day.

11:30 a.m.: Go to Hooters to pick up chicken wings because they are, in fact, my guilty pleasure.

12:15 p.m.: Get to Michael's house. Eat a few chicken wings, drink beer, eat jello shots. Should be noted that I had not actually eaten anything prior to this point.

12:30 p.m.: Watch football with Michael, Chuck, David and Sara, Cheryl, Beth, and...wait for it...Doug. Eat more jello shots. A lot more jello shots. I have no idea what happened during the game. It's almost a complete blank spot, except I know that we won. Vaguely.

5:00 p.m. ish: Realize I am completely drunk and need a soft place to land. Somehow manage to get down to Chuck's lower level apartment and pass out on his bed. Note: mixing depressed emotions and alcohol generally has adverse effects. Thank god he never complains when I pass out in his bed. Which I've only done twice, btw. I have no idea when or where everyone else was or when they left or what happened but everyone let me sleep, as far as I know. So thanks for being there and sorry if I didn't see you on the way out.

9:00 p.m.: Wake up after sleeping through a thunder storm, which, for those of you not from here, is a completely rare and pretty awesome occurrence. Go back upstairs to the couch and rub my temples, leaning alternately on Sara and Chuck. Have epically awful text message conversation with The Boy. That one is now scorched earth, and honestly? It's about time and thank god and I shoulda done it myself a long time ago but now I get to be the slightly injured party about except, ya know, screw it, whatever. When I text Andy and Irene about this later their comments make me once again grateful for amazing friends. When I say to them he broke up with me via text Irene responds, "Um, is he even in a position to do that?" Andy says, "It's like a dude in the ocean yelling 'Fuck you Titanic!'" So we will now thoroughly be moving on, not that I hadn't mostly already. But seriously? Fuck him and his timing. This is the same person that on the second day of the bar exam told me he didn't want a relationship. That couldn't have waited 24 hours? And now I've failed the bar and you're calling shit off? GFY, dude. Note to self: I deserve way better.

David and Sara decide around 10 that they are going home, and now that' I'm hung over and not drunk, I'm going home too.

10 p.m. ish: I decide I want to see what my dad is up to. So I drive to his house instead of my own house, but all the lights are off. So I drive to my house. But not before I drive by Philly Club. Twice. Before deciding its just better to go home. Good decision time!

But: 10:30 p.m. ish: I get home and the score report telling me just how badly I failed the bar is on the kitchen table. Ffffuuuuuuu. I can't handle this. I don't want to be alone in my house for this. I want to be around alcohol and other people. I want crown and coke. This may have been a flimsy well designed excuse to go back to the bar, but, whatever, it worked. Bad decision time! So I go to Philly Club anyway, which is mercifully empty of people I went to high school with and parents friends and assorted idiot boys who can't handle me. I sat at the bar, ordered a crown and coke, and stared at the score report hoping that the longer I stared at it, it would morph into something that said I passed. It didn't. And I was alone and sad and my zen acceptance of yesterday was all gone and then I thought I might cry. At a bar. By myself. Which would have just been epic levels of patheticness. But then the bartender asked me if I was all right and the guy standing to my right asked me what I was reading and we laughed and drank and in one of those random the universe knows what it's doing moments I met a guy who had also failed the bar on his first try, a year ago, and passed on his second try and knew EXACTLY what I was going through and who listened to me rant about it because he had been there in a way that the brave face I'd been trying to keep up with everyone else didn't need to be kept up and I talked too much and said too much and was my usual overly honest self but guy was cool with it and now it's 2 a.m. and I was starving and ate Carl's Junior and we watched Sportscenter and yeah, ya know, yeah, awesomeness, yeah. So. That.

So: football, drunk, pass out, hungover, drunk again, BNBD, home. 24 hours of what can only be described as undergrad levels of retardation and let's hope being upset about the bar is mostly over and we're all moving on now. And by we I mean me. But for today Imma just gonna lay here with my mouth still tasting of crown and coke and cigarettes even though I've brushed my teeth several times.

Tomorrow: we get up and we do it better.