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.)

One of THOSE posts

This isn't particularly interesting for anyone but me. (That is what an English professor would call a BAD hook. "No, really, this'll be awful, don't you want to read it now?" Geezus. Way to get inside my reader's head.) Let's try that again, shall we? 

This will be one of those posts where I talk about all the hot unattainable guys I see on TV and in movies. My take on it should be the regular amusing fare but it won't be particularly deep or anything. Hey, I can't bare my soul ON THE INTERNET every day. (I always capitalize that because even I am a little shocked sometimes I do bare my life on here. It's weird and sort of self involved, right? And someday may have real world repercussions. Meet the love of my life and he reads about that time at the bar I did that thing. That'll go over well. [Answer: shouldn't matter because he loves me for me and my awesomeness will prevail. [This is all super hypothetical, I'll stop thinking about it now]])

Since I've been relegated to the house and have done nothing even remotely interesting since...I went out to watch the LSU game (2 long weeks ago), I find my escape in the teevee. And I've noticed when I am denied cursory access to the opposite sex in some form, I start fixating on the pretty that Hollywood puts forth. So: this is a BOYZ post. With some critical TV and movie analysis thrown in, because I can't help it. I used to do these posts every so often on the old blog but I haven't done one here. I guess because I was off having a life. But since that ain't happening (and neither is studying apparently. Which leads to bar nightmares. Which are AWESOME, by the way), I bestow on your my current crush objects.

Weird

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. 

The In Between

Sometimes I don't want to write. But I know I have to. This is one of those times.

I know that seems weird, a little bit, to those of you that aren't baring your souls ON THE INTERNET, but I think for those of us that have had diaries since we were in second grade, the ability to write down the thoughts and parse out the ideas and maybe, just maybe, get some feedback is how we handle all the utter crap in our brain.

Grumble

I was rocking the past two days. Gym, study, eat healthy. Then last night I got sucked down the Hulu wormhole, had weird dreams wherein I made up entire scenarios of me dating Brooks Laich (he's my new gorgeous man crush. He plays  hockey. He hits other people. Hard. I find this totally attractive). I have included a picture of him below for your perusal. He also has an amazing Canadian accent and is from a town called "Regina", which we all know is one of the most fun Canadian towns to say the name of. (It rhymes with lady bits. Giggle. [I am a 15 year old boy])

If I was any good with photoshop there would be speech bubble where he asks to go out with me.

Anyway, despite the Brooks Laich made up dating scenarios (god I need a life), I didn't sleep well, slept too late and am back to my "Gah I don't want to do this!" mood today. 

So, since this is my universe, and mine alone, things currently bothering me (List time!):

From SI to LSU

Beth wrote an article about the legendary Bruce Mahoney game the other day. The thing she left out of her version (because it's irrelevant) is that she emailed and called ME to go with her before finding someone else. Thank merciful god, I had other plans already. Ugh. Prepster events. If I'm going to stay in the Bay Area I gotta just give into 'em but ugggghhhh.

Yeah, well, yeah

I don't like having "Am I the Asshole?" be the most recent posting or people's introduction to who I am so I'm blogging again today. Hi!

I didn't make the cookies. I had a semi-epiphany that I don't even want to be taking this test, why am I bothering/driving myself crazy/I'm tired of continuously putting off adulthood? before remembering that I already paid for it and I just ain't gottin it in me to quit yet, y'all (I get folksy when I'm pumping myself up, apparently).

My mom came home and didn't talk to me, but also didn't make the cookies. Ironic because: a) I bitch at her and finally get what I wanted all along which is to be left alone to study and b) WE'RE FIGHTING ABOUT COOKIES! That's ridiculous, right? Ahhh, moms. They are special, aren't they? So yeah, she's being pissy which in her world means, "Fine! I'm not making dinner!" to which I just think, "Lolz, she really thinks I'm an idiot, doesn't she? What does she think I did at college BY MYSELF for six years?" (I should note here that our relationship, not unique to this mother/daughter set of course, is a lot more complex than has been intimated here. I didn't live with her when I was in high school, for starters.) I need to go to the store tomorrow to pick up stuff for salads though, that's for sure.

Anywho: because of all that I got more studying done today than I think I have any other day but at this point my brain is fried and I call uncle. I still, according to my MBE practice, have only the most tenuous concept of 'hearsay' so that needs to be worked on. Fucking evidence. It's my nemesis. I'm determined to beat it into submission.

Moving on from bar study, because that stuff is reserved for elsewhere: I relax myself with movie watching. I have a Netflix instant account so most evenings I'm watching a show or two (a show? I sound like my grandmother. You know what I mean). They are mostly indie romances and they mostly end up being of the 2-3 out of 5 star variety. Mostly meh. I liked Ondine a lot, a story based on Irish mythology. The movie Middle of Nowhere had the hot guy from Shameless in it and it was all filmed in Baton Rouge. I started watching and was like, "Hey! That's the house I love on the lakes!" Also, and I'm a (mostly) straight female but: Eva Amurri's boobs are a work of freaking art (which is probably why you can see them in Californication. Or so I've heard.) And I liked the Oyster Farmer but mostly because the subtitle could have been "Alex O'Loughlin takes his shirt off a lot in this and even gets naked and speaks with his Australian accent. So enjoy!" I'm a sucker for an accent and a hot guy, what can I say? If you have other indie romance suggestions, I'm listening because they're my fave.

If that preceding paragraph was boring, shake the cobwebs and PLEASE pay attention for this next part:

The other night I watched Restrepo. OMG. OOOOOMMMMGGG. I know that sounds all squee and like a fifteen year old girl but you HAVE to watch this movie. HAVE TO. It's a documentary about guys deployed for 15 months (!!!!) to the Korangal Valley in Afghanistan where they are shot at on a daily basis. It's really poignant and sad and IMPORTANT. It doesn't offer answers or solutions. These kids, and they are just kids, the Captain of the squad is only 26, are just...you can see how broken they are from this written all over their faces. You can see how our policy kinda sucks over there. You will never feel closer to death and how awful our military action can be until you watch this movie. And if you don't have Netflix or go see this in a theatre, start here with the same production team introducing you to Sal Giunta, the recent Medal of Honor winner. When he says, "Fuck you"...yeah.


So that's the news from this corner of the world. Off to wake up early and do this all over again and a little bit better tomorrow.

Fucking evidence.