Curiouser and Curiouser!

Dialogue

2007-02-25T16:55:00.000-05:00

As February is the month in which we celebrate love (and black people), I thought I would throw in my two cents on Love, Relationships, and the Implications Thereof. I do not make a habit of blogging my personal life. I don't think anyone would really be interested and, well, some (most) of it is quite humiliating. I don't want this post to turn into something like that, but the fact of the matter is that one' s thoughts on love are necessarily born of one's own experiences. Also, I recognize that Valentine's Day is long gone, but the last week has brought this topic front and center so I consider the post timely (and I get to be self-centered on my blog). This post will take the form of the age-old rhetorical device of the Colloquy. This conversation takes place between myself and Love. Ahem.

Amy: Hello, Love. How's it going?

Love: Oh, fine. You know how it is.

Amy: Sure, sure. You got a minute? I was wanting to maybe ask you some stuff.

Love: If I had a nickel for every time I heard that...

Amy: Lots of questions lately?

Love: Well, the advent of Internet Dating has raised a lot of issues. Not that I have much to do with Dating, as a rule. Not really my scene.

Amy: Really? I thought that the whole point of dating was to, well, fall in love.

Love: And by implication this means I am not around while the dating is going on. You can't really fall in love until you stop dating.

Amy: Huh. This seems quite contrary to everything I ever learned from Meg Ryan.

Love: No way, I think they got quite close in When Harry Met Sally...

Amy: Good point, good point.

Love: Thanks.

Amy: But would you distinguish between dating on the one hand and relationships on the other?

Love: Well, I should say something here. Kind of a caveat. Kind of. Well, see, there are all kinds of different types of love, you know? There's the lusty kind that behaves rather like lighter fluid on a pile of logs. There's the soul-mate kind that always, for whatever reason, reminded me of the way certain kinds of igneous rock suffuses softer rocks and then solidifies so that you get this two-part mass that's inseparable save by...nevermind. I'm babbling. The point is that when you say "relationship" it can mean eight thousand different things, if you would permit some hyperbole.

Amy: Well, I guess what I'm getting at, and I only vaguely know myself, is, well, do we do it right? I mean, is going through a bunch of relationships really the way to find what it is we are taught to look for...lifetime committment, I guess? 'Cause some places have success with the arranged marriages, for example. Some folks write the whole thing off altogether. Who's got it right? Where do love and relationships fit in our lives? [breaks into a cold sweat]

Love: Geez, dude. Here, have some water. You need to relax. Clearly there's no answer for this. It depends on the person, it depends on the friggin' century, if you take my meaning. What I can tell you is this: you are viewing love as a destination when maybe that's not quite right.

Amy: I don't think I understand.

Love: Well, it's sort of semantics. Sort of that old cliche about how it's not the destination that matters but how you get there. I mean, look at the soul-maters for example. They find each other and they are, as it is said, in love. They didn't hit it and stop. It's more like a road or a, I don't know, canal?

Amy: Love is a canal?

Love: Nevermind. I'm just saying, you are killing yourself trying to get to the other side of something that can't be crossed. Maybe you should just drift. Loving is not like getting a Law Degree.

Amy: Gah! Don't go there.

Love: Sorry. But you get my meaning?

Amy: Yeah, I think so. Love is what happens while you are looking for perfect, or whatever.

Love: Sort of, yeah. Look, I gotta run...

Amy: Wait! I have one last question. Why, when I do a Google search for love images, do I get Kylie Monogue?

Love: She's my ambassador on Earth.

Amy: Ah.

And there you have it, Constant Readers. He's a squirrely little guy, Love. And I don't really know if I am more informed now as I was before. Any additions to the information posted here would be greatly appreciated.

(Brief Aside: I had all kinds of fancy things going on on this post but the format kept screwing up. So you'll just have to read my thoughts, Unadorned.)

Chagrin

2007-02-09T11:48:00.000-05:00

Okay, in several different ways over the past few weeks it has been brought to my attention that those folks to whom I apply for jobs will be googling me to see just who it is they might hire. This is troublesome to me for many reasons. My first response was a cheeky post right where this one now sits in which I googled myself and provided these potential employees with an efficient listing of the results complete with capsule summaries of my own design. Gardner informed me that it sounded defensive. Having gone back and read it again, I tend to agree with him. But I'm at a loss. I'm not interested in deleting my blog and yet I could see where many of the posts might sound unprofessional. But should that be a problem? It's a personal blog, which is, by definition, unprofessional. There are pictures of me in party situations on my Myspace page, which are, of course, also unprofessional. I would be more than happy to replace them with pictures of me at church, but I feel that would be rather dishonest. Another option is to take them away and replace them with nothing. And that's likely what I'll end up doing. Because while I know I won't chug beers in the workplace, I guess there's no way for people who've never met me to know that.

What is the future of all of this? If a future employer had thumbed through my yearbook and read all the dirty things the girls at my high school wrote, or thumbed through the yearbooks of others and read all the salacious things I wrote for them, the result would have been the same. They would have seen an unprofessional side of me that they would not want clients to see. The thing is, future employers would not thumb through a yearbook. They would not call my friends to see if I drink at parties. They would not read my journal to find out what I really thought about the movie I saw yesterday. They would, if these were the only methods of finding out "who I am," hire me based on my professional qualifications and let the chips fall where they may. The difference is, of course, that the information to be found on the internet is, presumably, information that I have taken out of the forum of the diary and yearbook and placed in the public sphere. So do I "deserve it" then? Have I absolutely jeopardized any chance I have of being hired because there's a picture of me with a High Life on Myspace? Is this fair? I believe that eventually web presences will not be such a big deal. Maybe it's a generational thing. Once people who grew up with chat windows and reality television are in charge, the blurred line between private and public won't matter as much. Maybe.

The bottom line is that there's nothing I can do about it. I'm going to try to go through and fix things so that I don't get passed over because of something offensive on Myspace. This post may make potential employers believe that I am defensive and difficult, but aren't those good traits for lawyers? What this post doesn't tell you is my huge sense of job loyalty and my desire to learn from people who know more than me. But that's the problem with these web presences, isn't it? It only tells you some of the story. Which is also true for resumes. Everything is tailored to present a certain image, and not a bit of it is the true, real thing. What can you learn about someone from a one-page synopsis of the most formative years of her life? What can you learn about someone from the rambly rantings on her blog? What does that picture of me with the High Life really say? I would argue that it says nothing. And then I would get the rejection letter.

I'm Boooooorrrrriiiiiinnnnngggggggg

2006-11-15T13:02:00.000-05:00

Okay. One million years after I said I would post all the time for the benefit of the one reader that remains, here I am to tell you that I'm boring. How did I come to this conclusion? Besides the obvious yawn-factor of my general witty party banter, there is the unimpeachable evidence provided by my Search Bar History. That's right folks. The self-same tool that many wives have used to catch their hubbies in the act of cybercheating can be used to empirically identify the degree to which my boringness extends. Allow a brief survey. (This is in lieu of working on my paper for Sexual Orientation and the Law class. 30 pages in a month?! I laugh in the face of pressure.)

1. Cute Overload

Each day (sometimes multiple times a day) I peruse the offerings of this entertaining and witty site in order to add some luster to the general banality of my weekdays (and, okay, my weekends too). For example, a trip to Cute Overload can provide both this:

and this:

So see? Something for everyone. But what does it say about me that I spend so much otherwise quality time staring at these pictures? My theory is that it's one step closer to realizing my true destiny. I am staring down the barrel at being a woman, alone except for her cat, thinking of her glory days in law school (ugh...my glory days were spent in law school), and doing things like emailing "This adooorrrable thing I saw on Cute Overload" to her unsuspecting (or all-too-suspicious) contact list. And.That's.It. Job will include phoning people for surveys. I will never leave the house. Yep. That's my future.

2. Netflix

Movies at the click of a mouse! They deliver right to your door! It's a sign of the advancement of our culture! But let's review what Netflix means for me. A) I never have to interact with people at the movie store again. B) I rent primarily television programs. These two things together add up, once again, to me never ever ever leaving the house. I don't have to go to the video store. And television shows come with between two and six episodes on a disc. Hours on the couch, lost in an ecstasy of escapist bliss, hastening the day when I will do the aforemetioned telephone surveys and email the cute pictures. Oh, hell. Who am I kidding? I already email the cute pictures. Damn.

3. Slashdot

This one might actually hold a glimmer of hope. Sort of. In a roundabout way. This mecca of all things geek appears on the history bar because I went there in an effort to bond with the Athens boy who made a brief appearance in my last post. He hasn't yet been scared away by my crazy. But, the thing is, I'm attempting bonding through A) a website that B) I don't understand. Boring.

4. The Bar

And not the fun kind of bar either. This is the kind of bar where they make you disclose all the deepest darkest secrets of your past and pay dearly for the privilege. This is the bar where they make you disapper into a vortex of civil procedure rules and tort remedies and Fourteenth Amendment rights for approximately two months because three years of law school isn't apparently enough of a sacrifice for the Beast God of Law. This is the kind of bar you live and breathe. And I bow down before it in supplication, unworthy and brainwashed.

5. LexisNexis

Really is not surprising that people don't talk to me at the parties. Legal research anyone? I'm currently spending a lot of my time at this site because of the paper I mentioned for Sexual Orientation and the Law class. Hold on to your hats, folks. I'm writing about how anti-gay laws are illegally based on status. Because in this country of ours, you aren't supposed to punish based on status, you are supposed to punish based on conduct. But now that sodomy can't (theoretically) be made illegal anymore, there's no conduct on which to base the pernicious anti-gay laws (read: anti-marriage constitutional amendments, military policy, adoption laws, etc.). It's still being fleshed out, but that's the gist. Eh? Anybody for a Debbie Downer? Because these days, that's me. Bo-ring.

What would make me more exciting? How do I grab life by the, ahem, hair and shake it until it bends to my will? Well, my options seem to be: quit law school, quit law school, quit law school. Which I guess I won't do, considering my proximity to the proverbial light at the end of the vaginal metaphor. So, woot on that score. But, geez, I'm one round of exams and 13 class credits away from disappearing for another two months into the aforementioned Bar Vortex. And I don't have a job yet.

I did finish the New York Times crossword puzzle this weekend. That's something.

Something boring.

Bad Things Happen in...

2006-09-23T20:33:00.000-05:00

I will now recount, for your viewing pleasure, the crappy things that have happened to me since last we spoke. Maybe, at the end, if necessary to elevate the tone to a pitch which doesn't induce self-mutilation by secret cutting, I'll recount some good stuff too.

1. Consumer Debt

So, Georgia Power steals. I say this to save you, Constant Reader, from a fate similar to mine. $95 dollars they charge when things happen that aren't your fault. Actually, we can blame the Republicans. See, if the Republicans hadn't raped our environment, I wouldn't have felt compelled to take a non-paying internship over the summer in order to rehabilitate it. And if I hadn't taken the non-paying internship, then theoretically I would've gotten some kind of paying gig. If that had happened, the check I wrote to Georgia Power at the end of the summer wouldn't have bounced and Georgia Power wouldn't currently be stealing my money. And, oh, it is stealing. They are taking money in exchange for nothing and quite against my will. But not to worry! They say I can have it back if I don't suck for 12 straight months. No one can go 12 months without sucking. It's written into our genetic code. Bye bye $95.

2. The Man

It costs more to run a stop sign in Athens-Clarke County than it does to go 25 mph over the speed limit in Murray County (specifically, Chatsworth). Not only that, you can pay the tickets from the backwoods online but not the tickets from the City Which Shelters Georgia's Flagship Institution.

3. Heartache
Since I don't so much want this to turn into one of those kinds of blogs in which people I don't know can read my innermost personal thoughts and feelings, I won't go into too much detail here. Suffice it to say that you can't ever really know someone. I gave him my heart and he gave me a pen. Whatever. Florida can have him. I am both a rock and an island. Besides there's a new boy around Athens I have my eye on. Onward and upward.

There you have it.

To hold up my end of the bargain, some good stuff is as follows: Rival won Sectionals; I'm getting back my security deposit from last year's apartment; I threw a party with Anna that rawked and at which I learned to play Quarters; I'm finally watching the second season of Lost (NO SPOILERS); aforementioned new Athens boy.

I'm confident that my bout of bad luck here endeth.

On and Off: The Wagon

2006-09-01T17:44:00.000-05:00

So. I spent August engaged in something of a personal challenge (well, personal to me and my friend KQ). This pursuit was something of a social experiment, something of a personal health thing, something of a just-to-make-sure-I'm-not-a-complete-lush thing. That's right, my friends. I didn't drink a drop of Pappy's Cough Syrup during the month of August. Alcohol-free. Dry as a bone. Chuck-E-Cheese, 24-7. It was easier and harder than I thought it would be. Easier because it turns out I'm not a raging alcoholic and I didn't, in fact, really go through withdrawal. Harder because I really really like drinking beer while I watch t.v. Next time, I'm making a loophole.

What did I learn? Let's list it all in list form. Some of it is surprising and some of it is emphatically not.

1. Alcohol makes you drunker than you are when you're sober.
2. Being drunk makes you do ill-advised things.
3. Being sober makes you do fewer ill-advised things.
4. Ergo, life is simpler when you don't drink. BUT
5. People are funnier when they are drunk.
6. Therefore, you are funnier when you are drunk.
7. Ergo, you are less of a hit at parties when you are sober. UNLESS
8. There is four-square. In which case, you can be just as much of a hit sober as you would be otherwise. NOTE
9. You will still like all of your friends when the Month O' Sobriety ends. FURTHERMORE
10. All of your friends will like you back. LASTLY
11. You sleep better when you don't drink. I feel like a million bucks!

Not drinking's OK. Q.E.D.

Now. I intend to fall headfirst off the wagon. As such, there will be boatraces and parties and bar hopping and other things of that ilk that make my mama proud (hi Mom!). Who wants to go to happy hour?

The Descent

2006-08-14T14:59:00.000-05:00

Hi All! Wanted to re-establish my blogging presence not with yet another pathetic apology/promise to blog more often. Instead, I am informing you all of a movie you simply must see if you a) like scary things b) have claustrophobia and c) enjoy the social advancement of women. Or, really, if you have any combination of the above qualities. I saw this movie yesterday with my buddy Chris Hassiotis and I must say I was very pleasantly surprised. And terrified. And squirmily-uncomfortable. I am sure we are all aware/tired of the useless women that appear in most horror movies. Not since Laurie Strode has there been a heroine worth seeing in a horror movie (with the possible exception of Sydney in Scream). Not so any longer! Gone are the days of the vapid, busty, expansively expendible girlfriend types. No more squeaky, useless screaming or gratuitous nude scenes (tho I will say I don't understand why one particular character in this movie had to be wearing a push up sports bra, but whatever). The women in this film (and this film is peopled entirely with women) are badasses---rockclimbing, white water rafting, spelunking their way to an entirely fulfilling horror flick. Despite it being all estrogen all the time, there is no lack of gore or expendible characters or stunning feats of kick-the-monster's-ass. Best part? The action takes place in our own Appelachian back yard. I can't say enough about this movie. There's even a small amount of sympathy elicited for the monsters themselves, in the best "they can't help the way they are" kind of way. Love this movie. Love you people.

Let's hear it for being back!

O'er Amber Waves of Grain

2006-07-07T16:48:00.000-05:00

So. First of all, I was in attendance at the Braves game on Wednesday, at which the Cardinals flew into the window, as it were. 14-4. I'm just saying. I will, of course, be taking full credit for this turn of events. Everyone got a hit. Everyone played well. And it just provides a bit of justification for my very deep-seeded belief that the Braves' post-All Star Break performance will knock the socks off the Naysayers. Mets? Poop.

Second of all, at said Braves game, the Powers That Be at the Ted decided to put on the fireworks display that got rained out on Tuesday, the Birthday of Our Nation (I won't be a dork and tell you all that really the Birthday of Our Nation is 02 July...crap). The display was replete with patriotic songs, including my favorite, "I'm Proud to Be an American," which inevitably reminds me of the laser show at Stone Mountain which I attended with my mother and brother and some elementary school chums during the same trip in which I saw the New Kids On the Block live and in concert at Bobby Dodd Stadium. Yes, folks. The rumors are true. I am a gigantic dork. Anyway, back to the point. The fireworks actually managed to bring the patriot out in me. Patriot Amy is always hanging out just beneath my anti-Bush bluster, constantly doing things like saying, "The jury system is great!" and "Long live captialism!" Patriot Amy, on the occasion of the God Bless America Turner Field Fireworks Extravaganza, bent my ear and reminded me that, though I do tend to do things like "go off on Bush" and "bemoan the current situation in Iraq" and "roll my eyes at the people who don't want homosexuals to marry" and "key SUVs" (okay that last one is a lie), I am damn happy to live in a country where my very life's pursuit can be so antithetical to the pursuits of the Ruling Administration and not get me lynched. I am damn happy to be a woman and still be able to go to school and wear pants. I am damn happy that, gosh darnit, if I wanted to be President I could run. I am damn happy that if I get raped, I won't have to committ suicide so my family can regain their honor. I am damn happy we have laws protecting our National Parks (for as long as they may last) and I am damn happy that I've gotten to see some of those parks and that if I want to go back, alls I gotsta do is get in the car (which I am allowed to drive) and go.

Finally, I am damn happy that a horse just ran by my building on Peachtree Street. God Bless America.

Yes. I am alive.

2006-06-28T18:48:00.000-05:00

I do hope that there are still people in the world who read this. Who have not yet given up on me. Who understand that a girl just trying to make in the world must have blog-free days in which to do that. Who may have been told that I'm living a wireless-free life w/ Mr. Baccarini (he says hi back Hilary!). I'm amped to have discovered the Universal Joint in Decatur, where I can enjoy a nice Stella Artois and some wireless and blog to my little heart's content.

So. What to fill you in on? I work. I play ultimate.

Oh, I know. Treachery! Everyone loves a good tale of treachery. I have defected from IP and and now a more-or-less proud member of Rival. I say "more-or-less" because it has been a painful decision-making process wherein I basically had to decide between making others happy and making myself happy. In the end I chose me. Which is long-run good but short-run very very bad. Because no one gets it. And because I feel like crap. And because I got an email from a former teammate which said only "Amy way to suck." Sigh. So this is good news and bad news. I'm really excited about Rival but I'm going to miss IP very much. I'll keep you posted on the developments.

That was mediocre news. What else?

Smallville? I watched eight hours of it on Sunday. I miss not having seen Angel. This "Superman" doesn't begin to compare. Really. Where can this go? (This is "irony." I'm well aware that Superman could kick Angel's ass and that he's quite the franchise. Actually, now that I think about it, that could be an interesting Rivalry. Superman v. Angel. The last one was Pirates v. Ninjas. I think Pirates. Arrrr.)

Hmmm. What else...

Braves? 15.5 games back. Smoltz has hinted at trade. Nope. Don't want to talk about that.

Instead of all of the above, I'll leave you with an adorable picture and we'll call it a day. I will try not to go 22 days w/o posting from now on, especially now that I've found internet.

Okay. Edit that. As I am too sleepy to figure out why pictures aren't posting. I leave you with the following quote:

"This is me. I am a lawyer. Lawyers are important. They go to important offices and do important things. Color my underpants important."
--The Coloring Book for Lawyers

Back in the Saddle

2006-05-24T20:49:00.000-05:00

Okay. It's been a shockingly long time since I posted anything of merit. I don't know if I am going to remedy that situation now or not, but for kicks (and to give those of you who are still checking something to read) I will provide a summary of what I have been up to since last we spoke.

1. Finals
I placed my nose on the grindstone (brief aside: that phrase comes from the old practice of smelling ground grain to discover if it had gone bad) and made it through the end of the semester. Two take-home exams, one regular exam, and a policy analysis later, I am officially no longer a 2L. Whether I become a 3L depends, of course, on the outcome of aforementioned Tests of Merit and Aptitude. So far, mediocre but no failing. Keep your fingers crossed.

2. Myspace
Long ago in the salad days of the World Wide Web I scoffed at the notion that surfing the 'net could prove addictive. I mean, how long could a person possibly stare at what amounts to a wide and constantly changing light bulb? Well, Friends, I now have egg on my face. Myspace is a monkey on my back. Everything takes a back burner to it. Packing, FAFSA, exams, hygiene--everything. At the same time I wish to encourage you all to join it (must have more friends!) and loudly warn you to run in the other direction. And you should totally go to my page and hear my song. It rox! (www.myspace.com/amysalley)

3. BtVS.5
I actively dislike Dawn. Glory is a fantastic villain. Poor Riley. Tara and Willow make me cry. Xander becomes hot. Anya is hilarious in her capitalist phase. "The Body" is one of the most fantastic pieces of television ever. Bye Bye Buff...okay done.

4. Keith Richards
I have been giving Mr. Richards a run for his money in the party area. To say good bye to Athens, you must say good bye in a language it understands. Booze. Athens only speaks Booze. But I am not ashamed because soon I will be more-or-less joining the work force and my Keith Richards days are, therefore, numbered. I SWEAR I CAN QUIT ANY TIME I WANT. Moving on...

5. Atlanta
I will become a temporary Atlanta resident in T-minus five days. My home will be with Mr. Michael Baccarini in lovely Decatur (not pictured above) where hopefully he will whip my butt into shape and I will spend many pleasant hours of quality time with his DirecTV. Wednesday marks the first official day of my internship with the Georgia Center for Law in the Public Interest. Wish me luck! In addition to the foregoing, Atlanta Summer League begins in the none-to-distant future. Oh yes folks, me and Team ___ will take the AFDC by storm! I'm a 6! That's two better than last year! Woo!

And that pretty much sums it up. This weekend will find me at the Memorial Day Hat Tournament in Savannah, which all but marked the beginning of this here blog last year. We've laughed. We've cried. We've been extremely bored. In any event, many thanks to those of you who have stuck by me through the good and the bad. To mark the occasion, I have begun finalizing what I hope will prove to be the most amazing Epitome of Female Beauty Contest ever! Stay tuned, folks!

On that note, I am out. Must finally admit to myself that I won't be living in this apartment too much longer (bye crappy neighbors!) and pack stuff. Sigh. Packing's the worst.

Bone-In-Chicken

2006-05-02T10:03:00.000-05:00

Long ago I posted about my time at Poultry Days with Peep Show. Well, Constant Reader, it's a new dawn, as they say. Behold: the bio of our new team, Bone-In-Chicken.

It all began one night in the Appalachian backwater of Athens, Ga. Could the Atlantic Coast support yet another dominant co-ed team? Slowly it occurred to us that, of course, once our team hit the pitch there would really only be the one dominant team. We owed it to the world to show that Internet Porn was a legitimate lifestyle choice. There were some obstacles, of course. The draw to Open and Women’s is strong among us. There was the pesky matter of Russell’s Reputation. But eventually general consensus was that All Else Pales in Comparison to Porn. And, true to our most optimistic of expectations, domination was had by all. From Shawn Adams to Regionals and many points in between, IP showed what quality ultimate could look like, pulling out winning records at every tournament we attended. And it’s no wonder, given the wealth of talent. Young though we may be, you know what they say about old dogs. And boy do we have some tricks up our sleeves. The Good Old Fashioned Pull Play. The Football Play. F and U. C and S. Sending Salley deep. Clutch lay-out Ds and an unstoppably inspirational captain. From the wasteland of anonymity to second place at Sectionals and fourth place at Regionals, IP is on its way to becoming a household name. From all points across the land, at first indistinct but growing stronger, comes the chant: “Porn! Porn! Porn! Porn!” We are aiming at Natties next year and for years after. We will keep this Region on its toes. And in the air. And on the ground. And eating our dust. Dominate, indeed.

I'm totally amped.

P.S. That bio? I wrote that. [insert smug look here]

Bradwell v. State, 16 Wall. (83 U.S.) 130 (1873)

2006-04-29T16:38:00.000-05:00

Justice Bradley writing:

"...it certainly cannot be affirmed, as an historical fact [that] it is one of the privileges and immunities of women as citizens to engage in any and every profession, occupation, or employment in civil life. [Man] is, or should be, woman's protector and defender. The natural and proper timidity and delicacy which belongs to the female sex evidently unfits it for many of the occupations of civil life. The constitution of family organization, which is founded in the divine ordinance, as well as in the nature of things, indicates the domestic sphere as that which properly belongs to the domain and functions of womanhood. [The] paramount destiny and mission of woman are to fulfill the noble and benign offices of wife and mother. This is the law of the Creator."

This was the opinion in a case where Myra Bradwell petitioned the Court to hold that the 14th Amendment included her right to practice law.

Barf.

My Alcoholism is Official

2006-04-29T16:26:00.000-05:00

Here is a snippet of my hot-off-the-press membership card to PBRme. Apparently now I Get Stuff. The only thing that would make this better? Two words: lifetime supply.

You Can Blame Stephen

2006-04-27T18:14:00.000-05:00

Since Stephen has complained that I never post anything anymore, I am now going to regale you all with Terrifying Tales of My Exam Exploits.

BEHOLD the NATURAL RESOURCES LEVIATHAN

How does one choose the proper water resources allocation system? Does the President truly have the power to designate federal lands as Wilderness Areas without going through the Constitutionally-mandated legislative process? What constitutes a "major federal action" for purposes of NEPA compliance? If you were to undergo actions on your land which could "significantly impact the critical habitat of a listed species" would you rather have a section 10 incidental takings permit or a Biological Opinion which would provide the framework in which you could legally shoot, shovel, and shut up?

SECURE YOUR CHILDREN! For it's the CONSTITUTIONAL LAW HELLHOUND...

What is the proper test for determining whether libel has been printed with "actual malice?" Who is a public figure for purposes of defamation? Does the Establishment Clause mean "freedom of religion" or "freedom from religion?" Will Alito really mean the erosion of abortion rights? Does Scalia bathe? What constitutes "just compensation" in takings cases? Does an act without speech constitute "expression" protected by the First Amendment? What's the difference between "obscentity" and "pornography?"

GASP! EGADS! RECOIL! Please tell me it's not the LEGISLATION ARCHFIEND!!

If the Supreme Court has spoken and Congress does not address the holding in a relevant statute, does silence equal consent? Should the Court seek to effectuate legislative intent? If so, how? Would a textualist agree that Congress should enact Federal Rules of Stautory Interpretation? Does expressio unius mandate the exclusion of certain similar examples if there is a non-exhaustive list used? Should grammar trump obvious intent? Should the statute be read as a whole or should each section stand alone? Does the Civil Rights Act of 1964 anticipate affirmative action programs? Should the Court construe statutes narrowly to avoid questions of constitutional scope?

FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY! It's...it's...LONG SWAMP CREEK!!!

Will the Pickens County Commissioner agree to an overlay zone which will effectively expand all of the EHCP regulations to include the ideal protection area and thus protect this unique natural resource from the degradation inherent in Atlanta's outward expansion? Will I fail in my efforts to Save the World?!

What will become of our hero as she Fights Against the Sands of Time? Will the answers come to her in a dream? On the top of a mountain in Tibet? Will she be able to counter the forces of evil which stand in the way of Now and The End of the Semester?

Stay tuned, Kids! Don't let our hero wander in the wilderness alone!

Grumble

2006-04-19T15:38:00.000-05:00

This is what I feel like today. Possible culprits:
1. rain
2. blister
3. boys
4. school
5. other

Catch-22: I want to have fun tonight but that will increase the general level of stress in my life at a later date.

Is that a Catch-22? Meh...

Everyone should read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.

Variations on a Meme

2006-04-11T17:58:00.000-05:00

Okay. I'll bite. B/c this is time consuming and seems like fun. Thanks Gardner. The game is to put your ipod on shuffle and wait for it to magically tell you things about your life. The first song to come on answers the question. Ready?

1. How am I feeling today?
Just a Touch by R.E.M.
You set the pace of what was to come
I have to carry on now that you're gone
A day in the life well nobody laughed
Look to the days how long can this last

Um. Hmm. I am feeling fear for the future? Yeah. That sounds about right.

2. Will I get far in life?
Op Hop Detonation by Stereolab
we who're young and beautiful
we who can stand up and walk
our lives we will learn to control
we who're young and beautiful
respond revolution when
we hear the word suffering

Apparently I will be a revolutionary at some point. And damn good at it.

3. How do my friends see me?
Daysleeper by R.E.M.
I see today with a newsprint fray
My night is colored headache grey
Don't wake me with so much.
The ocean machine is set to nine
I'll squeeze into heaven and valentine
My bed is pulling me,
Gravity
Daysleeper. Daysleeper.Daysleeper. Daysleeper. Daysleeper.

When did R.E.M. start controlling my brain? And that of my friends? So my friends see me as only going through the motions during the day and really living at night. I can take that. Except that in the song it's darn depressing.

4. Where will I get married?
I'm a Believer by The Monkees

England. And how apropos is that song?

5. What is my best friend's theme song?
Africa by Toto
It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had

Hmmm. This one is an enigma. Partially because I could not begin to tell you which of my bestestes this is the theme song for. Though I think I'm inclined to say Stephen. You okay with a little Platinum Gold being your theme song, buddy? And, actually, it's kind of appropriate, Stephen being the most stand-up guy, like, ever.

6. What is the story of my life?
Throughout All Time by Dwight Yoakam
I'll still see you walking silently
Through the shadows in my mind
A vision of your sweet blue eyes
Creeps into my dreamful sleep at night
You still haunt the deepness of my memories
I guess you will throughout all time

Many nights I've sat and wondered
If you might be somebody's wife
But if you're not, I'd long to see you
If just to tell you how I've pined

So, completely obsessed with stuff that goes on in the past and hanging on to said past for as long as my feeble mind can stand it? Oh, and romanticizing and fetishizing. Yup. Sounds right.

7. What was high school like?
Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys

Well, I don't know quite what to do with the fact that this song is an instrumental. So I'll go with this being the soundtrack to my life in high school, which would make it sort of plodding but with interesting changes in sound and some unexpected exciting bits.

8. How can I get ahead in life?
Elvis Presley Blues by Gillian Welch
I was thinking that night about Elvis
Day that he died, day that he died
I was thinking that night about Elvis
Day that he died, day that he died
How he took it all out of black and white
Grabbed his wand in the other hand and he held on tight
And he shook it like a hurricane
He shook it like to make it break
And he shook it like a holy roller, baby
With his soul at stake

Well, I think the lesson here is pretty obvious. You gotta grab life by the horns and take some chances. Hell with the naysayers. But definitely avoid the drugs so I don't "die along in long decline."

9. What is the best thing about me?
Yore Days by Apples in Stereo
The day will come when all you wanna do is run
Press on your heart with your thumbs
Leaving nothing in its place
What are you thinking? You're not out of time
I keep forgetting how you feel

Must be telling me that I am not afraid of failure. Or that I'm good at pump up speeches. Or something.

10. How is today going to be?
Begin the Begin by R.E.M. (Geez!)

Um. Hmm. Same s*** different day? Yep.

11. What's in store for this weekend?
The Nurse by The White Stripes
No I'm never, no I'm never, no I'm never gonna let you down now

I will mistakenly trust someone?

12. What song describes my parents? (This ought to be good)
"No battery power remains." Hmm. Sorry y'all.

13. My grandparents?
Broken Train by Beck
We're out of control
No one knows how low we'll go

No comment.

14. How is my life going?
What's the Frequency Kenneth? by R.E.M. (for the love!)
I'd studied your cartoons, radio, music, TV, movies, magazines
Richard said, "Withdrawal in disgust is not the same as apathy"
A smile like the cartoon, tooth for a tooth
You said that irony was the shackles of youth
You wore a shirt of violent green, uh-huh
I never understood the frequency, uh-huh

So I don't fit in. Apparently even R.E.M. knows it. But it's cool, at least I've learned not to be apathetic.

15. What song will they play at my funeral?
Why Don't We Do It In The Road? by The Beatles
Hey do you think we could of done that better?

I'm conveniently ignoring the first bit. Because for all we know I get to my funeral by doing something dumb like It in the Road.

16. How will the world see you?
King of Comedy by R.E.M. (I have learned that I need to vary my music a bit)
I'm not commodity
I'm not commodity
I'm not commodity
I'm not commodity
I'm not commodity

The world will see me as preachy and opinionated and holier than thou. And judgmental. And right.

17. Will I have a happy life?
The Golden Age by Beck
These day I barely get by
I don’t even try
It’s a treacherous road
With a desolated view
There’s distant lights
But here they’re far and few

I'm going to take this to mean that though things will seem bleak at times there will be moments of bliss and that the future looks generally bright.

18. Do people secretly lust after me?
Reservations by Wilco
I'm bound by these choices so hard to make
I'm bound by the feeling so easy to fake
None of this is real enough to take me from you

I'm going to go with a hell yeah on that one.

19. How can I make myself happy?
Down by the River by Neil Young (Indigo Girls cover)
Be on my side, I'll be on your side, baby
There is no reason for you to hide
It's so hard for me staying here all alone
When you could be taking me for a ride.

Get a partner in crime.

20. What should I do with my life?
Nowhere Man by The Beatles
Doesn't have a point of view,
Knows not where he's going to,
Isn't he a bit like you and me?
Nowhere Man, please listen,
You don't know what you're missing,
Nowhere Man, the world is at your command.

So, magic ipod doesn't know exactly what I should do, only that I should decide soon and that my options are quite numerous. Thanks a mil.

21. Will I ever have children?
Sleeping In by The Postal Service
And then last night I had that strange dream
Where everything was exactly how it seemed
Where concerns about the world getting warmer
The people thought they were just being rewarded

So maybe, but they will live in a world of revisionist history where God gave us global warming to reward us for being us so that we can swim in the winter. Nifty.

22. What do I think my current theme song is?
Mysteries of Love by Julee Cruise
Sometimes a wind blows
And the mysteries of love
Come clear.

Hmmm. I might have to object.

23. What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
Box Full of Letters by Wilco
I can't find time
To write my mind
The way I want it to read

My friends know me better than I know myself.

24. What is my signature dancing song?
The Celibate Life by The Shins

Well, that's more like it. But not so much dancy. Except that I do live in Athens where we have perfected the "I Don't Dance Indie Head Nod."

25. What kind of men do you like? (emotionally unavailable, obviously)
Crash Into Me by Dave Matthews
You’ve got your ball
You’ve got your chain
Tied to me tight tie me up again

I stand corrected. Unless I like men who resent being in relationships. I'm sticking with emotionally unavailable.

That took a long time and I learned nothing. Guess I'll do schoolwork now.

Special Delivery 2

2006-04-11T17:35:00.000-05:00

Dear Ryan Langerhans,

I think we both know that you practically owe me your career. When all the idiots in the world were all "Frenchy's fine!" and "Frenchy's the new golden boy!" I was all, "My Boyfriend eats Frenchy for breakfast!" (which of course is hyperbole because otherwise you'd be a cannibal and social pariah---can't have that!). As a direct result of my stalwart loyalty, you were not sent back to the minors so that the entire outfield could be played by Jones and Francoeur. They decided to "keep you on" and "see how you handled yourself." Well, let's just say you handled yourself just fine and now all those naysayers have a new catchphrase about ole Frenchy: "Sophomore Slump." And you? You. Oh, you. You and your .479 batting average. And your lay out catches in the clutch. And your blank stare during photo shoots. Sigh.

And we both also know that you almost blew it with your "marriage." I know I reacted poorly. There were threats of bodily harm and intimations that I would wreck your home. I think you know me well enough to know it was the booze talking. Bygones? I hope that you are happy in your "marriage" and I will comfort myself with the memories we shared while I was still your Best Girl. We'll always have that one rain delay where I catcalled you as you walked up to the plate right in front of the choice seats I stole from the wuss that couldn't stand a little skywater. Ah, the halcyon salad days of our love.

The real point of this letter is to clear the air a bit, you know, stow the baggage, as it were. I am very proud of the way you are playing and I know, despite what the grumpies say, that you will not "implode." So here's to you and your nerves of steel. Don't let the pretty boy intimidate you! He's pretty but dumb and if he doesn't marry money I just don't know what will happen to him. But you? You're going places.

Sincerely,
Amy

The Most Disturbing Thing, Like, Ever?

2006-04-04T20:27:00.000-05:00

Okay, this is courtesy of Eponymous, so thanks to ya, buddy.

newyorkmetro.com/news/features/16576/index.html

Now. I just read this and I am quite at a loss. I think the funniest part may be the food rainbows. But it also might be breathatarianism. Or the fact that this man, for some reason, likes to throw himself at trees and off cliffs. Hey, we all got something. I, for one, enjoy throwing myself on the mercy of gravity in the name of not letting a plastic toy hit the ground. How weird am I?

Since I gave you something funny tragic to read, here is something a bit more pleasing to the senses. Y'all can thank Gardner for this one. Or I can. Thanks G.

www.kittenwar.com

Oscar is officially enlisted in this War. I defy any of you people to find a kitten cuter than this little guy

Today We Hip Hip for ME

2006-03-29T17:20:00.000-05:00

Yes, folks. I have joined the ranks of the Gainfully Employed. Well, at least the Constructively Occupied. This summer I will be saving the world, free of charge, with the Georgia Center for Law in the Public Interest. At said establishment I will be a research lackey, general grunt, and environmental law expert-in-training. I'm amped. Now all that remains is to find a cheap place to live in Atlanta and to find "money." I remain optimistic.

Okay. I guess we can Hip Hip for S.Bird too.

Stephen is gainfully employed at Pulaski Elementary School, come August. He'll be shaping the young minds of the 4th Grade. Bartow, as it turns out, was too small a place for the likes of Old Man River. So we have put his talents where they will be appreciated.

Okay. So. Let's Hip Hip for Renna while we are at it.

Renna went and got herself a job at the UGA Library. Which makes me happy b/c now I can drink Maker's Mark and Blenheims at the Manhattan with her.

Hip Hip Huzzah! Hip Hip Huzzah! Hip Hip Huzzah!

Marilyn

2006-03-05T12:41:00.001-05:00

Say hello to my little friend! This is my brand new-to-me 2000 Focus ZX3. There are many happy days in our future.

To explain the name: my old car, Norma Jean, was a Saab that fell in battle in Sept. 2003. I have named this one Marilyn in homage to my Best Girl and b/c the Focus, in many ways, is an upgrade of the proud but sort of homely Norma Jean (RIP).

And many thanks to Joe of Allstate for gettin' her roadworthy.

I'm going to go drive places now.

Grumpy

2006-03-01T16:28:00.000-05:00

There are certain things in this world that bring out the absolute worst in people. Long lines. Traffic. Homocidal Jealous Rages. Religion. But I am slowly learning that nothing brings out the worst in people like negotiating a used car sale. Never have I been party to such a parade of horribles. The shrewdness. The skepticism. The sad, sad cars. All I want in the world right now is a reliable car sold by a nice person that won't cost me my first-born (b/c no car is worth giving up the Moxie). Doesn't seem a lot to ask. But when you combine crap-heads from Atlanta, the AJC never updating it's car classifieds on line, and my general lack of knowledge of all things car, you have yourself a recipe for disaster, friend.

For the love of Jesus, someone sell me their car and get me out of this hell.

A Story Chris Told Me

2006-02-28T19:13:00.000-05:00

It was 3:45 in the morning on a crisp night in Athens. Chris and Kyle (their real names) were enjoying a late-night/early morning beer on their second story deck. From said deck there is a beautiful view of their backyard, and a quite utilitarian one of Springdale St. The evening was unremarkable---they were having a laugh and toasting their youth when suddenly, there was a loud THUNK from the street side of the deck. "What the...?" Chris said to Kyle, and he immediately leapt to his feet (cat-like in his grace and dexterity) and crossed to the railing. Kyle reluctantly followed, smelling the ill wind of a patented It Was Chris's Idea. Below the deck on the front lawn stood a man with a brick. The man wore jeans and a black t-shirt and was posturing in a menacing fashion while staring Chris and Kyle down. He threw the brick at the side of the house and continued to posture for a bit. And then he left. Chris and Kyle looked at one another, at something of a loss as to how to proceed. Chris suggested that the most obvious course of action was to follow the Bricker and call the police. Kyle reluctantly agreed, the smell from earlier now singeing his nosehairs. On the way out the door, Chris grabbed the necessary accoutrements: a Maglite, a cell phone, and his spiked brass knuckles. Thus armed, Chris and Kyle set out. On the street corner was a Pack of Girls, adjudged by Chris to be a Pack of Girls walking home drunk from somewhere (a not-uncommon sight in and around the greater Athens metropolitan area). Chris and Kyle wandered down Bloomfield to Cloverhurst where they espied two young men in jeans and black t-shirts in the street. At this point, Chris telephoned the police and told them that a man had thrown a brick at his house and could currently be found on Cloverhurst, thank you. Thus began the confrontation. Chris yells, "Hey! I think you threw a brick at my house, man! And, well, that's our unicycle!" Indeed, clutched in the kleptophilic grip of said Bricker was the unicycle that belongs to Ben, the Downstairs Neighbor. Chris got close enough to shine the Maglite into the eyes of the Bricker. The Bricker was not as evasive as you would think. He insisted that he was drunk and not thinking clearly and that, "Well, I know how to ride a unicycle, so I thought I would take it." He returned the unicycle and apologized and at this point the confrontation ended. Kyle, all this time, has been shaking like a leaf and practically peeing himself. You see, Chris had kept the brass knuckles and Kyle had Nothing. He did make a valiant attempt at The Delicious Rhythm of Good Cop/Bad Cop (his words) by quietly telling Chris, "I think you can stop shining the flashlight in his eyes now." And now, enter the Real Cops. Apparently the Bricker and his cohort had been spreading the Brick love all over town. The Pack of Girls included one who had also known the wrath of the Brick and had her purse stolen from her bedroom to boot. Without so much as a "How do ya do?" the Bricker and Pal were taken into custody and charged with six counts of...something or other. Chris was given his own Day and a Key to the City. The headline the next day said, "Cops Nab Unicycle Thief."

Your Daily Dose of Subversion

2006-02-26T18:21:00.000-05:00

With apologies to all my Republican fans, including my beloved and respected Parents, I would like all of you to obey the following commands.

1. Type www.google.com into your browser (or click on the convenient hyperlink)

2. Type "failure" into the search field

3. Click on "I'm Feeling Lucky"

4. Giggle at the page that comes up

I cannot tell you why this works, but it makes me smile.

Superstar

2006-02-23T21:42:00.000-05:00

Had a Banned Movies Night this evening (and an aborted attempt to see A New World because I don't own a car and Chris didn't want to change his flat tire). Went over to Rentz's and Miss Edwards's apartment to watch Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story. This is a movie from about 1985 or so which depicts the life of Karen Carpenter using Barbies as the actors. It's a banned movie because Todd Haynes never got permission to use the Carpenters songs. The evening started out lighthearted. We made a strawberry Barbie cake complete with plastic women thinking that we were in for 40 minutes of delicious kitsch. Unfortunately, the movie was about the horror of one of America's sweethearts wasting away before millions of adoring fans.

Appetites quite supressed, we watched with our hearts in our throats at the grotesque Barbie Karen taking Ex-Lax and eventually o.d.-ing on ipecac. Poor girl. My reaction was weird and didn't really hit me until later. I'm kind of pissed right now because I keep thinking of the media circus around Lindsay Lohan

and Mary-Kate Olsen

and Nicole Richie.

Quick! Put them in a great big spotlight so that we can Save Them from Themselves! Bring sandwiches! And self-esteem! And a new social concept of beauty! Such a crappy cycle. The alleged point behind using the Barbie dolls in the Karen Carpenter movie was to show how ironic it is that we vilify and/or judge women who go through things like anorexia and less lethal body image issues but we raise them on things like Barbie. Where do we women get these silly ideas that we should weigh three pounds and have enormous breasts!? The bitch of it is that I can know all this on an objective level. And I can know that the normal guys that I want to date really don't give a crap if I don't look like a Barbie doll. But damned if that helps when I'm trying on a swimsuit. Such a crappy cycle.

For the Seafood-Lover in Youuuuu

2006-02-22T21:19:00.000-05:00

Tonight for Janet's birthday I made the scene at

Because we talked about how lame it is, I'll now list a series of inside jokes from the evening that none of you will find humorous since they are out of context and will have no inflection:

"What's the matter? Christ got your tongue?"

The W.T. Waitress

"I am the Admiral! I am the Admiral!"

"Amy, an uncomfortably long hug is called 'making love.'"

"We're going to have to go ahead and order a continual stream of biscuits directly into our mouths."

"There should be a section for 'Feasts.'"

"Where is that knife? In your sack?"

And on and on, ad nauseum. A good time was had by all.

In other news, I was at an ultimate tournament in Alabama this past weekend. Located at the beautiful Talladega Superspeedway,

Mudbowl attracted teams from far and wide. I played with the Savannah Savage Booty and we managed to win all our games until semi-finals which we only lost by a couple. I got my arm landed on! Yay! The weather was complete crap. I'm thinking 20 below with a windchill factor of 30 below and rain to boot. Sunday wasn't all that bad. But I was so hungover that it didn't matter one way or the other. Stormclouds were going to follow me around all day anyway. The party was pretty fun. Couple of kegs. A rented-out hotel. Ass Wrasslin' for your entertainment needs (I lost to Boobies McGee, but only after she cheated, and beat Renee soundly). After the drinking and the dancing, there was some kissing in an elevator with a boy who shall remain anonymous (I know that'll make Mama and Daddy proud). But I think the best part of the party was dancing with Colin with the Cute Earrings from Savannah. It's difficult to truly appreciate how badly the majority of the populace dances until you dance with someone who's actually good at it. So here's to you Colin with the Cute Earrings from Savannah. I will carry our special moments with me forever.

Now I guess it's back to learning the "law." Though at the moment I mostly just want to watch the Veronica Mars DVD Netflix gave me today. Sigh. Instead I will read more about the National Forest Management Act and our First Amendment Right to Freedom of Speech. Huzzah.

V.D.

2006-02-15T16:44:00.000-05:00

So my Valentine's treat came via Mike "Nashonals" Nash in the following:

Yes. That would be my Boyfriend, Langerhans, and his Puny Wife who spells her name funny. Happy Valentine's Day to me. I can't believe he's cheating on me with his wife now. And if I'd been the one he was marrying, I would have been game to wearing the goofy cowboy hat too. Look at her. You can just tell she's only in it for the money. Trophy wives. Pshaw.

In other news, I have on my hands something of a Flower Fugitive.

A trio of purple irises were found in Russel's Bowl at my apartment yesterday evening. No "to." No "from." No nothin'. There are a few possible explanations which vary in likeliness:

1. Secret Admirer

2. Mr. Attractive came to his senses but is too chicken to actually admit that he was wrong and that I was the best thing that ever had the potential of happening to him.

3. The boy I was making eyes at in Savannah stalked my address, found out my favorite color, my second favorite flower, drove here, left flowers, drove away, is hoping for best.

4. Wrong address

5. Katherine

6. Other

Any information leading to the identification and/or apprehension of the Flower Fugitive can be left here with our utmost thanks.

Other than the Flower Fugitive, Valentine's was tame. I hung with Anna and watched The Constant Gardner which turned out to be the worst Valentine's movie, like, ever. We ate the chocolate given to her by her brother, her boyfriend, and her mother (she was kind enough to share since I got chocolate from no one; but, hey, I got anonymous flowers, right!...), drank some cheap white zin, and then did homework. Today, I feel depressed. But things are looking up. Got my hair did today and I'm going to a party Friday (for which I am making red velvet boobcake) and to Alabama on Saturday where I will again see the aforementioned boy from Savannah. Here's for hoping.

In any event, I hope that everyone had a sterling Valentine's Day. If anyone's significant other did anything particularly interesting, I, for one, would like to hear about it. What I would like to hear about even more, though, is if anyone did anything more pathetic than I did. Because that's what V.D. is all about.

Love to you all.

Grace

2006-01-29T14:06:00.000-05:00

Today for some reason I am thinking of Jeff Buckley.

I believe the culprit of this is the fact that James Franco is in about three million movies and is Jeff Buckley's doppelganger.

I am reacquainting myself with Jeff's album Grace, which I haven't listened to since about 2001. I bought it because of the near-obscene beauty of his cover of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah." Jeff Buckley drowned when he was 30, I think the day before he was supposed to be starting on his second album. So suddenly, of course, he became the Next Big Thing Tragically Lost. Everyone was a fan. Now all the tribute sites talk about his vision, his passion, his unswerving dedication to staying true to his music, etc, ad nauseum. It's incredible, the rosy sheen that a early death can rub on a life. I'm not sure that Jeff Buckley was the Tortured Angel Genius that the tribute sites would have you believe. He was kind of a diva. He broke up bands. His music is sometimes wildly inconsistent. I am glad that I heard "Hallelujah" before I knew his story, so that when I would hear it and I would actually shush people so that they could hear it too I know that it was because it moved me and not because he was the Last Great Hope or something. Because isn't that what it's all about? Isn't it a little disgusting that art and music and writing become so much more precious when the artist is dead? Does the art not ever stand for itself? It's an odd phenomenon. What is the connection between art and death? Why does death create genius? I recently discussed with a friend how unsettling I find it, this tendency of people to align themselves with tragedy. When someone dies, friends and fans come out of the woodwork. There are hugs and there is sympathy to go around and people want in on it. So albums, movies, books sell out. And everyone claims to have been a fan before.

I don't think I'm going anywhere with this rambley post, really. I just had some stuff on my mind and if I can't put it on my blog, where can I put it? Maybe it's a carpe diem kind of a thing. Oh drink a bit of wine we both might go tomorrow (to probably misquote Jeff Buckley himself). If any of you people haven't heard Jeff Buckley, you should. But not because he's dead. Because his voice will break your heart.

Which Polyhedral Are You?

2006-01-24T21:04:00.000-05:00

No use trying to fight it, you're an eight-sided die, a d8. A fine example of simple elegance, the d8 is one of the least appreciated types of dice, and is often neglected. You are known to be quiet and shy, outward traits that conceal viscous sarcasm and mean wit. You are very smart, yet wise enough to hide your intelligence the quicker they found out how smart you are, the sooner they'll put you to work, which is something you can do without. People call you dark and pessimistic, or moody and cynical. You find little point in arguing.

http://dicepool.com/catalog/quiz.php

I don't know. I don't think that sounds anything like me...

Tut Tut

2006-01-23T16:16:00.000-05:00

Sigh. I've decided that the gods are angry with me for ignoring my blog and all three of my loyal readers. This is why I fell down on the rainy sidewalk today (skinned foot and knee, wet butt). This is why my local Vision Video doesn't rent "Angel" (must wait for friggin' Netflix). This is why I can't find love. All because of this blog. Well, fans, you must thank the gods for subtley forcing me to renew my Good Works of entertaining the masses. And, also, for the following formal apology for waiting so damn long:

Constant Reader,

I don't know what came over me. I hope that my future incoherent scribblings will make up for the dearth of same for the last month. My only excuse (and brace yourself, because this redefines flimsy) is that I was "busy." Please accept my most humble apologies and feast your hungry eyes on the following Mother of all Blogs.

Love,
Amy

1. Christmas
Was in Savannah for the longest continuous stretch since Christmas in, like, 2001 or something. It was pleasant if a bit melancholy. I was nursing a broken heart and couldn't quite shake that "You can't go home again" feeling. But all things considered, it was an enjoyable holiday. There was ultimate and disc golf, a celebration of the New Year on which I made out w/ a champagne bottle, oyster harvesting, marathons of Buffy, Firefly, and The Gilmore Girls, football (Go Dawgs!), the receipt of a digital camera (which will lead to photos on the blog as soon as I find Technological Nirvana), and several trips to the movies. Oh, and please, if you take nothing else away from this post, please note that you cannot, under any circumstances save parting w/ your firstborn, rent a car at Enterprise only going one way. I hate being stationary.

2. Satan Shoes
I bought these shoes from Target. They have caused me to a) fall down in the middle of a street at night in Madrid; b) fall down in front of one of the Boys I Have A Crush On; c) fall down on a rainy sidewalk (though that could have been the gods, see above) while running for a bus; d) fall down at the movies. Treacherous but cute, these shoes. Any advice from the general public?

3. Because it's good for you to expand your personal lexicon:
velleity (vuh-lee-it-tee): n, 1. volition at its lowest level. 2. a mere wish or inclination
This pretty much describes my general approach to the law right now. Like, I totally want to want to do it enough to do it. This is the best word in the English language and we don't use it. Begs the question: why isn't there a word for coolness that corresponds to the word "warmth?"

4. Contestant No. Twelve: Ziyi Zhang
There are several reasons to have "China's gift to Hollywood" on this list. Homegirl is stunning. She studied dance and translated that into quite the career in martial arts movies (if you haven't seen Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon or House of Flying Daggers please proceed immediately to your nearest rental establishment). Her first Hollywood lead required her to speak English, which she did not previously know, in a Japanese accent. She's learned to fan dance, geisha style. She's only a year older than me. I'm impressed with this woman. Thoughts? Feelings?

5. Oscar
My kitty is getting neutered on Valentine's Day. I felt it was appropriate.

6. Freaks and Geeks
Was canceled because those who would identify with it continue to be disenfranchised by the frat boys that run the networks. Everyone should see this show. That means you.

And that concludes our whirlwind trip around Amy's brain. I know it wasn't the most riveting of posts, but I thought it would keep your whistle wet until I can pour you another. I love love love stretching metaphors to the point that they break!

Couch Potato

2005-12-22T17:30:00.000-05:00

I have spent the last three days or so (more on the "or so" side) watching television from the Curvey Couch. This has led, in turn, to alternately thinking that I am pathetic and feeling darn happy that there are no more finals in my immediate future. The thoughts of my pathetic-ness are staved off by the precarious rationalization that I have chosen to go couch potato, versus the alternative that I was given no choice. I can stop whenever I want to. I was not previously aware that there is a point at which your body conforms permanently to the shape of the pillows on which you are propped. I have had some close calls with that one. Yesterday, somewhere between the last half of Serenity (watch it now and often) and the third-in-a-row episode of Buffy (yesterday was Joss Whedon day) I actually lost circulation to the right side of by head because of the awkward angle of my neck. Not pleasant. Oscar has spent the last three days or so giving me a rather disturbing "You're wasting your life" look. All of this adds up to me being pretty glad that tomorrow I'm going home for Christmas. Here's for hoping it's a non-stop whirlwind of activity and shopping and family and food that is not made by Papa John.

Happy Happy Holidays everyone!

Kittenface!

2005-12-16T17:13:00.000-05:00

Bah. It's been an incredibly long time since my last (long) post. Oh the things I have been through in that interim. Love! Loss! Finals! And the best part is Oscar. Say hello to my newest fuzzy friend. At the moment he is riddled with disease and has this OCD thing with his litter box, but he's so damn cute that I don't care! My buddy Kathleen rescued dear Oscar out of a dumpster near her condo in ATL and one thing led to another so now I'm a mommy. I don't know how people live without cats. They keep your feet warm when you're drunk watching "Veronica Mars" alone. They purr next to your head at all hours of the night scaring the ever living crap out of you. They bite your pen when you are writing Christmas cards. They bite your hand when you are not. And they do that adorable leg-straight-up-in-the-air butt lick. Sigh. A joy to behold. Oscar has brought unexpected and very timely joy to my life. Best eyes ever.

Que Friends

2005-11-30T20:19:00.000-05:00

To the left you will see a picture of La Latina, which is where I was on Sunday. It was a day of shopping the stalls, drinking cerveza, and eating tapas (which included grilled sardines, whose taste belies their appearance). Yes, people, I am home from Spain. Spain. Spain Spainy Spain. Down to my belly. I LOVED IT. Madrid is a beautiful city and her people are friendly and her food is grand and her mochitos are out of this world. The trip might mean that I failed my Constitutional Law exam, but what's Commerce Clause jurisprudence in the face of world travel? Nothing, I tell ya! Nothing!

So the trip started with a looooong journey overnight, complete with incessantly crying baby, to Amsterdam, in whose airport I attempted to study. What that meant in the real world was that I plugged in the old ipod and promptly fell asleep hanging over my books, with the trail of drool that necessarily entails. Then it was on to Madrid, where Michael and I were met by David and we hopped the Metro to Arguelles, where David lives. After much sleeping and showering, Michael and I attempted to order Kebobs in Spanish. For me this meant pointing and indicating that I wanted "one." For Michael, this meant pointing at the food I had and indicating he wanted the same thing. But for all the embarrassment at not knowing a lick of Spanish at this point, that was the best damn food I ever had. Maybe it was because I was near death with hunger and jetlag, or maybe it was just that good. Whatever the case, at the first bite of ketchup-drenched sandwich, I could have died happy. Little did I know that this was the beginning of a rather torrid affair with the Kebob that was to spice up my little jaunt abroad. That evening Michael and I met Nacho and Paola, David's roommates. This was my first introduction to the rather awkward European staple, the double kiss (actually this site is a bit incorrect, as in Spain it is strictly left cheek first). Eventually I came to understand that ladies kiss everyone when they meet and usually when they say good-bye, and that even if I felt awkward, no one else did and I should get the hell over myself. After I realized that I just went around kissing everyone. It was awesome and I think we should do it here. There is seriously no better ice-breaker. I mean, when you shake hands, you are still keeping distance between you and your new acquaintence. When you kiss, you are basically saying, "Okay we've broken down the walls. I've been in your space, you've been in mine. Let's cut to the chase and get to know one another." I love it.

The next day found Michael and David and I shopping for Thanksgiving dinner. Chicken, macaroni and cheese, broccoli, salad, bread. Michael and I ended up cooking for everyone since people in Spain work until 9:30 at night. Everything came out roses, except for the broccoli which I managed to screw up. But people were nice enough to eat it anyway. We all said what we were thankful for (me supplying the Irish girl Gracie with "Puppies!") and dug in. Before dinner, Michael and I wandered around the touristy area of Madrid, which emanates from the area of Sol. We saw such important (read: beautiful but kind of boring) things as the Banco de Espana, the cool place with the murals, and the neat shopping district around Sol.

On Friday, David took us to see the Palacio Real Madrid before he went off to teach the King's English to the Spaniards. It was a beautiful building, the viewing of which was followed by beautiful falafel wraps. Anna then led Michael and I to the Prado where we saw Titians, Goyas, El Grecos, Brueghels, Rembrandts, Velazquezes, and others. I was blown away by this museum. I think it's easy to overlook why these people are the masters if you have never seen their work up close. The detail, the mastery of anatomy, the capacity for mimicry...it's amazing. Titian's depiction of Sisyphus is one of the most stirring things I've ever seen. Ditto for the Five Senses (and now I can't remember who painted them, but I know it was a pairing of two). Rembrandt is revered above all others for a good friggin' reason. I would kill a man to know how to do with my mind what they can manage to do with paint, if that makes any sense to anyone but me. Suffice it to say that the Prado was well worth the six euro admission.

After the Prado it was painting the town red with David. We hung in Malasana, specifically at the Tupper Ware bar. I felt un-trendy, but I did know the words to all the American oldies that were being played at the bar. The youth of Spain are a very good-looking lot, let it be said. Boys, girls, what have you. They dress well, they take pride in their appearance (even if that appearance includes rattails and mullets), and they work a cigarette like no one I've seen. The title for this here post came from our evening out in Malasana, by the way. A person of about 20, blind drunk, was being aided down the street by his friends. The catch is that he was on crutches---the kind that you get when you've got legs that chronically don't work so good. This boy on crutches looked up at our little party passing him by and said, "Que Friends!" And I thought to myself that truer words have not been spoken.

On Saturday was our daytrip to Toledo where we enjoyed fine mazapan, viewed some medieval architecture, and froze our tookuses off. It was a beautiful city. Unfortunately we only got a quick glimpse of the cathedral before we were told that unless we were worshipping, we had to go. I had spent the full minute and half that we were inside with my nose in a side chapel since I thought I would be able to tour at my leisure. Ah, well. The side chapel was lovely. My best memory from Toledo will be sitting the in the main square with Michael and David, talking about body hair over paella and too much cafe con leche.

Saturday night we went over to Anna's apartment for a little party thingie. It was the first time we had met Spanish people who were not intimate associates of David. It was awkward and smokey and I proceeded to get quite ill. I was so overheated that I turned the color of a really ripe mango. But David sat with me in the lobby for a bit and I felt better. The main attraction for the evening was the viewing of one of the roommate's friend's short film series. I couldn't understand most of it, but it appeared to center around torture by apple. I was glad to get home, where we found Nacho on the couch watching a little t.v. David took this opportunity to show us free Spanish porn. Does this make for an enlightened culture?

Sunday was spent at the aforementioned la Latina market. I got too drunk on mochitos but I did manage to acquire a little green cell phone cozy with an asian girl on it simply by telling Nacho's friend Elsa that I liked it. She promptly offered it to me and I finally accepted it after much chastisement from Nacho ("If a person offers you something, you just take it!). Michael and I killed the time before bed watching Ghost Ship and Encino Man dubbed in Spanish. It's way more entertaining than it sounds.

Monday was the sad last day. David took us to Parque Retiro, which was simply gorgeous. The light was beautifu, the weather was cooperative, and the park itself is just lovely. It's large with winding footpaths, and a central area with a large pond and this monument with columns and a huge statute of a man on a horse (as all self-respecting monuments have). After David went off to work, Michael and I hit the Reina Sofia so that I could see Picasso's "Guernica." Picasso, for some strange reason, is my favorite artist. It doesn't make any sense considering that my general affinity is for the more classical/Renaissance type artists. But, seeing as how I'm a sucker for all things Picasso, I've been waiting over ten years to see this particular work. I had a conversation recently which touched on the topic of disappointment at the hands of so-called "world treasures." The argument was basically that you get your expectations up too high you are bound to be disppaointed. The conversation meandered a bit and culminated in a discussion of beauty. We talked about that feeling you get when you are looking at a piece of art or a devestating sunset or the face of your beloved or your pet. The feeling where you are partially afraid to look away lest the beauty disappear and partially afraid to continue looking lest the beauty of the thing swallow you whole. I thought of this conversation while I was staring at "Guernica" so long my feet hurt and my eyes watered. I thought of how un-disappointing this painting is and how the terrible beauty of the thing made me want to take an x-acto knife to it. Odd, the effect. And the Dali works in the next room paled in comparison to me.

After the visit to the museum, Michael and I went home and had a melancholy packing session and waited for David's arrival home from work. We discussed the various available methods of getting to the aeropuerto at the unGodly hour of 4:00 in the morning. The Metro unfortunately stopped working at 1:30 am and cabs were like 20 euros. This was not resolved when David arrived home after having a Monday at work. Anna and her roomies were cooking us a dinner as an affectionate send-off. We were supposed to be there at 10:00 and ended up not getting there until 11:30 and then not eating until 12:15. Strange Spaniards and their strange hours. On the menu was this tomato garlic salsa soupy thingie that was awesome and for the recipe I would sacrifice my firstborn, pollo con queso roquefort, bread with this really really good Spanish ham, eggplant souffle of some sort with eggs on top, and lots and lots of Spanish wine. It felt so good to sit around a table with new friends in a foreign country. I knew then that I would never regret the trip, no matter how poorly it caused me to perform on my schoolwork. Anna and Company were so friendly, and it was so awesome to see David again. I was tired, cranky, and couldn't think straight during my exam, but so it goes. Viva Espana. Que Friends.

Chucktown Gender Warfare

2005-11-13T19:40:00.000-05:00

Went to Charleston this weekend for 11^2, the great Internet Porn reunion. First leg was a roadtip with O-Face and Dino, which took about an hour longer than it should've but was punctuated with such memorable moments as, "That church as a nipple on it," and "Oh my God! Look at that scary stop man head's face!" And I think it worth noting that O-Face is the only person I know that will carry an entire bookbag into Wendy's because the chapstick is attached to it. Too much effort to detach said 'stick, you see. Oh, and then lift the entire bag to apply the chapstick (please see above explanation of Effort). Eventually we did finally roll into Charleston where the boys (and Corr and That Guy on the Couch) were watching Half-Baked and drinking Miller High Life Tall Boys (MHLTB). The decision was eventually made to go downtown and, despite O-Face's debilitating age, we did manage to Have the Fun. Pool. Sandwiches. I think I screamed at Nash on the phone at one point. Good Times. Saturday dawned with a minimum of hangovers. There was some College Gameday television watched and then the boys decided to play poker and indulge in MHLTB. And the girls took one look at this development and split. Hooray for Girl's Day in Downtown! We ate! We shopped! We drank cosmopolitans on a roof! It was fantastic. And we were very very glad that we decided to go this route when we arrived back at Casa de MRN^2 only to discover unclean drunk boys, one of which had moments before spit onto the kitchen floor (he'll remain nameless but it was Acuff). Girls rule and boys drool. In an effort to maintain Corr's and Nash's relationship and to try to find the drunk boys Funny, I started bartending for the ladies. Drinking and watching the Georgia game ensued. Which was followed by me being PISSED (in two ways). Then the great Nut Cup/Clit Cup tournament which was never finished because we all passed out watching Anchorman. And then this morning happened. And now I'm home.

I think that the MVP for Party Guy goes to Wilbur. Because he's "not belligerent" when he's drunk, he likes to spill stuff, and it's really really funny to watch him get manhandled when he won't get off the floor. So here's to you, Party Guy. Oh, and a special mention too for your honorable performance during the Fist Fight. Russel is gay.

Today we Hip Hip for S.Bird

2005-11-04T17:29:00.000-05:00

So, my Beloved Big Bubba has gotten himself his first Real Grown Up Big Person Job. I am so proud!! He will officially be teaching the First Grade at Bartow Elementary School. You have not seen beauty until you have seen my brother with children. If he had listened to his Savvy Little Sister when I was 15 and he was 18, he could have already been teaching for like a million years. But no, he had to do Sports Management and hate it before going into teaching. Ah, well. C'est la vie. I'm very happy that he will be shaping the young minds of tomorrow. Or he'll be teaching them to do that thing where you lay your little sister down on the ground and let a long rope of drool come out of your mouth until it almost hits her in the forehead and then you suck it back up at the last minute (or you let it hit her). Best when done just after Skittles. I hate you, Stephen, for ruining Skittles for me. But I'm glad you are gainful employ.

Contestant No. Eleven

2005-10-25T22:29:00.000-05:00

I don't think there is anyone better through whom to revitalize the Epitome of Female Beauty Contest. I know that after we go through sixth grade Social Studies class that we all more or less understand that it goes without saying that Rosa Parks did way more than remain in her seat. She gave a face to a nascent movement whose members were only beginning to realize how much unity and common ground would be necessary for any semblance of success. She became the standard waved at all opposition. A reminder of what was at the heart of the fight for equality: the simple ability to live everyday without the humiliation of Jim Crow laws. If a seamstress could stick it to the man, then by gum so could black people everywhere. Few know that Rosa Parks was, in fact, already a part of this movement. She was the grassroots type, sending out fliers and holding workshops to educate young people about what the fuss was all about. She was also a replacement: a 15 year old girl had done a very similar thing but had gotten pregnant and was not seen as fit to represent the movement. But Rosa Parks--worker, visionary, pillar of the Montgomery community--was perfect. And she went right along with it. It all began with remaining in her seat, but she was no less formidable when lending her quiet but powerful legacy to all aspects of the civil rights movement. It might have happened without her. But that in no way diminshes her strength of character and conviction, demonstrated several times in her life, or her claim to recognition as a truly beautiful woman. R.I.P.

Because I Am Your Friend

2005-10-20T20:38:00.000-05:00

...and I have only your best interests at heart, I bring you "Two Chinese Students." Please click on that link and enjoy. But not during class. Or anything somber. There is music and dancing involved.

Dang

2005-10-19T21:10:00.000-05:00

Whoa. Above under on to. People are not me. So okie. I totally met this guy and I thought that I was most total in for it. Im sick of these guys thinking they can just, ya know? The battle of the sexes is raging. At the desk tonight I knew it. Damn. I just wish that this was different, yo. How do I go on knowing that the more I go on the more I have to go on to? But at least Ive known some good times. J with those pots and pans. Tara-girl with the time with the Bug. I was totally hanging with them and there wasnot any of this Venus Mars stuff. Whew. Does anyone know the secret to talking to the other sexes? If you do, tell me!! Oh my god! Well, back to the world. The world of thoughts and feelings and feeling under, again.

Okay Okay Okay

2005-10-19T11:02:00.000-05:00

I'll stay in law school. And I'll try to enjoy it. And, heck, maybe I'll change the world. Or at least I won't make it any worse.

Rut

2005-10-17T20:45:00.000-05:00

Okay. Seriously. What to do? I am so tired of having this debate in my head a million times a day that I decided to go ahead and have it in writing in the hopes that maybe one of my three loyal readers will have some advice. I am in law school. It seems dumb to start law school and not finish it. Because a law degree won't exactly close doors. But, on the other hand, if I get convinced that I no longer want to be a lawyer--or even if I can't readily put my finger on the kind of lawyer I would like to be--does that mean that I should get out while I still can and avoid that last $20K in debt? Does one want to finish what one started at the expense of one's true path in life? Does one want to be practical rather than, say, happy? Am I just pissed because law school isn't fun and I'd rather be having fun? Isn't life too short not to do what one wants?

Here's the nitty gritty of the dilemma: most of me wants to own a bookstore. Only some of me wants to be a lawyer. It's more likely that I will succeed as a lawyer than as a bookstore owner. I'm already in law school and almost half-way done. I can have a bookstore some other time. But do I really want to spend however many miserable years lawyering just because it'll give me money? Isn't success more aptly measured in other ways?

People who know and love me will likely recognize this for what it is: Amy's Annual Freak Out. In the past the Freak Out has led to life-altering decisions. Do I just stick it out this time and be an adult and deal with the decisions I've made? Or is there some nugget of validity behind my schitzophrenia? Is it my subconscious trying to tell me something?

Sigh.

I'm Only Going to Say This Once

2005-10-10T22:31:00.000-05:00

1) Anything that makes my Boyfriend this sad makes me want to put my thumbs in the eyes of any Astro, preferably the ones that got runs.

2) That being said. Here's my take: we won Game Four, pushed it to Game Five, and then only lost by one run in the bottom of the ninth. Think about it. It took 18 innings for 'em to get us. Farnsworth knows his role. He'll beat himself up. And then Next Year Things Will Be Different. I say Huzzah to Bobby for getting us No. 14 when every single odd was against him. Huzzah for Smoltz proving once again that he's the Most Badass Pitcher (including Clemens: it's all nice that he can relieve twice in his career whereas Smoltz could make a full career out of either role). Huzzah for our rookies coming in and stepping up and showing the world what Heart looks like. Huzzah indeed. And yes. Sad that we are eliminated again. But far from saying, "If we don't win a World Series we suck" I'll say instead, "We have a consistently awesome team every friggin' year. Go Braves."

3) Next year will depend on us having a good bullpen. We get our bullpen back, Braves rock the faces off the stupid American leaguers next year.

Now. If only I can get Langerhans to stop cheating on me with his fiancee...

Flux

2005-10-09T11:04:00.000-05:00

Weekends like this are what make the weeks worthwhile, in my humble opinion. I will regale you with a tale of small town girls, living in a lonely world, who went out to roll the dice just one more time. Anna and I commandeered the Mackowiak Family Matrix and headed out of town. I-85 had traffic, Briarcliff Road had traffic, so we were late. But I managed not to "freak out" while KQ got ready and instead passed the time showing Anna around KQ's awesome Midtown bachelor pad. KQ has got that kind of condo that says to the world, "Hey world, I'm a helluvalot cooler than you and I have the exposed piping to prove it!" I love her apt. It has been home to me on many ultimate weekends. Oh pull-out couch! Oh deck-that-used-to-have-a-view-of-downtown! Oh Mona! This is the kind of condo you get when you first realize you are an adult. Likely won't be home forever, but damn, it's home for now. Jealous jealous jealous.

Anyway, after KQ was finally ready we all headed out to the White Space gallery in Inman Park. Chris's boyfriend Jonathan had his first solo art show. Photography and Sculpture (please see above photo which I hope I don't get into trouble for posting). The theme was "Flux" and the works attempted to capture the manifold changes that punctuate human existence--emotional and physical. They were powerful pieces, to say the least. Anna was disturbed by the sculptures, which resembled moist hornet nests. But I thought they were beautiful, if vaginal and spinal. At any rate, Jonathan did a fantastic job and I'm pleased that I got to see the show.

After the show (and the free white wine and the American Spirits and the convesation about Pride and Prejudice) KQ, Anna, and I took our fabulous selves to One for a little bit of chi chi dinner and chi chi conversation. I felt like I had stepped onto the set of Sex and the City or something. Steak Tartare! Shrimp Ceviche! Tuna Filet! Romanian Pinot Grigio! And did you know Hermes is pronounced Air-mez and not Air-may? Well, you may put that in your pipe and smoke it! Oh, and I still owe KQ $35.

We were faced with a dilemma after dinner: which party do we attend? The boys from the art show were all supposed to be going to Decatur for quality dance time. But what about the ultimate party at Parag's? What to do what to do? Obviously this is a job for...The Cokers! After rousing them from what may or may not have been purely innocent bedroom time, we did some Maker's Mark shots and headed to the keg party (because keg parties follow dinner at One so well). The evening was peppered with such incidents as Anna becoming the team girlfriend for the phalanx of foreign exchange students thrilled to find a pretty French girl at a Tech party, Russell making me cry (after I beat him chugging and gave him a vicious backslap), and Hensley pouring Everclear in people's beers (I suppose that one falls into the category of "seemed like a good idea at the time"). I drank too much and spent too much time defending lawyers. But I looked really really good.

The evening wound down with some quality time with the Coker Dogs and the Coker Wedding Album. There may have been some cigarette smoking and Ned may have fallen asleep on the couch...Then it was off to bed. And another Glitterati Friday Night came to a close.

Fin

2005-10-05T11:51:00.000-05:00

Regionals. Where dreams are born and legends are made. Where the boys are separated from Chain Lightening. Where INTERNET PORN FINALLY BEAT HOLES & POLES!!!! Where INTERNET PORN FOUGHT TO WITHIN TWO POINTS OF JOHNNY ON THE SPOT AND DROVE THE GAME TO DOUBLE GAME POINT!!! Where INTERNET PORN BROKE SEED AND CAME OUT FOURTH!!! So we won't be going to Natties. In what universe does that automatically mean you are not a success? Maybe the HoDawgs circa 2001 would have thought along those lines. But a ragtag team of throwntogethers who never practice and who only kind of like each other? In my personal opinion, it's an honor to be nominated. I'm really proud of the way our little team played in Orlando this past weekend. No one expected much of us and we got to within one game of the Game to Go. Not bad. Not bad at all. So I would have liked to have played slightly better against Johnny on the Spot on Sunday. We proved that we could hang with them only to fall apart when it mattered. Evidentiary of our lack of cohesion which is a result of not practicing. A pity, in any event. But next year. Oh next year. Well, acutally the question is now to be begged: what is Amy to do next year? A whole heck of a lot of me really wants to play competitive women's again. Ozone? I'd love to try out. I have about a 70% chance of making it. I would have a role that doesn't amount to "Stand back there and handle." Maybe. And we'd be contenders. And it's lovely to be a contender. On the other hand, I did love playing with my brother and I did love the dynamic on the team (the above regarding only kind of liking one another was, of course, a joke---we had much team love). It's nice to be on a team that's good and actually has fun at the same time. Women's ultimate can get a bit, er, intense. Which is fine, but you got to go in with your eyes open. Ah, well. This is the age-old question I guess. Mixed or Women's? Bi or Homo? Etc etc. But all this can be worried about in the future. As for now, the HILIGHTS:

--Uncle Frank takes the cake for Hilight No. One. Julie and he were real troopers on Saturday and watched three games. Now they are "Part of the Team." And there was a run made for fries and coke. If he wasn't going to be on the hilight reel before that, he certainly would be after.

--Peach Margarita Race: I have experienced my first Full Body Brain Freeze and it wasn't pretty. And I got creamed by Russell. But all in all, I'm okay with my showing. And the margarita himself was mighty tasty.

--Stephen. No matter how much he doesn't want to admit it he is the Internet Porn Stud. I mean he's poetry in motion that boy. Lay-out Ds. Lay-out Grabs. Money hucks. Handling Capabilities. And not bad lookin' to boot (it's in the genes, baby). Now, if we can get his little passes up, he'll be unstoppable.

--The Shower.

--The Hampton Inn. The Hampton Inn is to the Super 8 as Rivendell is to Mordor. And for the people reading this who are not dorks, suffice it to say that you want to stay there. Period. Thanks Scott.

--Johnny on the Spot on Saturday. What a game. What a game. And it was even mildly spirited, which I'm sure surprised no one more than me. There was energy and love and some really friggin' impressive playing. By far the best game I.P. played all season.

--Not the car ride down. The car ride down is better left unremembered. Except for the moments of punchiness. I had a good laugh about the five-nosed dog.

--The Jerseys. "Click, click...18 to Enter." Priceless.

--Russell. Hooray for pleasant surprises.

--Wilbur. Hooray for the definition of "heart."

--Nash. Hooray for the best damn captain this side of Robin Williams.

--Daag. Hooray for the best under-the-breath sideline comments and pointless layouts ever.

--Don. Hooray for footblocks and flick hucks.

--Scott. Hooray for the most infectious enthusiasm ever.

--E.O. Hooray for running like you're stealing a baby. And ghastly neck sunburns.

--Corr. Hooray for Mama and optimism and having your best game when everyone else has their worst one.

--Dino. Hooray for afterburners and the singing monkey.

--Dorito. Hooray for "outside track" and being our female stud.

--Janet. Hooray for bringing the defense with you.

--O-face. Hooray for being the example by which we should all judge our capacity to "dig deep." And good lord the girl came when she had a midterm due! Let's hear it for dedication.

--and finally Acuff. Who sucks for not coming.

Okay. Done, I think. Man. I love I.P. What the hell am I going to do without you? There's always the party at the new house of Mr. and Mrs. Nashionals. Word.

Lucky 14

2005-09-28T20:00:00.000-05:00

Okey dokey, then. I gotta say, at the beginning of the season, I didn't know if we would pull it off. We were plagued with injuries and Raoul Mondesi (for the life of me I don't know if I spelled that right--what kind of fan am I?). We had no run support. Our pitchers were a little lack-luster (anyone else remember Smoltz's first start this season?). So the 14th Division Title in a row is fantastic news. Bobby Cox rules. As much as I question some of his decision-making, it turns out that the majority of the time he knows what he's doing. I have had some hard times this season. There was the aforementioned Smoltz start. There was Orr. Ryan Langerhans got engaged. But there were bright points too. Andruw started holding the bat lower, resulting in an impressive number of homeruns. The Golden Boy stayed Golden and was a great asset to the team (Francoeur to the uninitiated). I got a ball signed by Julio Franco who is My Favorite Brave. I'm pumped for the post-season, though I wonder what's going to happen without a left-handed pitcher in the rotation. And what of Smoltz? Will his shoulder play nice and allow for quality pitching? I know that some friends of mine are doing their part to ensure the World Series. They call it the Hot Water Challenge and basically it entails not coming into contact with hot liquid until the Braves bring it home. Well, it got 'em a division I guess. Why not the Series? God I love baseball. GO BRAVES!

Can You See the Drummer?

2005-09-26T11:37:00.000-05:00

Argh. I have tried roughly one million times to upload a picture of Sufjan Stevens, but, alas, Al Gore in his infinite wisdom did not make the internet user-friendly by someone of average intelligence. So you'll have to make do with my witty and evocative description of him. Tall. Hair the color of Ravens Voyant. A smile to break your heart. Voice reminiscent of molasses on a hot biscuit. Ah, Sufjan. I went to his show at the 40 Watt on Saturday with Christian, KQ, and Mark. The show was muggy and overpopulated, but extremely enjoyable. I distinctly heard a bespectacled Indie Boy say, "This is a fucked up crowd." Which I took to mean that he was surprised to see representatives from such diverse groups as frat boys, punks, and freshmen. I was not surpised, however. If your music is a melting pot, so will be your fans. I have it on more-good-than-bad authority that the employees of the 40 Watt found the show to be "gay." But, see, I poo-poo on this opinion because I happen to know that these same employees attend Flaming Lips shows on a regular basis. And if a grown man in a pink bunny suit ain't gay then, a fortiori, a Michigan lad kicking it with his friends dressed as cheerleaders from the late 70s ain't gay either. The only negative that I can put my finger on from the show (aside from the aforementioned mugginess) is the girl of midget proportions with the puffy hair that talked practically the whole way through a rather moving cover of R.E.M.'s "This One Goes Out to the One I Love." She was standing thisclose to me and would not stop talking to the skinny pierced boy next to her (who may or may not have been a willing accomplice). Finally her friends told her to be quiet and she stomped off in a rather convincing huff, bless her. Apart from that, enjoyable experience through and through. Tight orchestration, flawless singing, a squeaky Superman. Brilliant.

In other news, I have joined the World of Cool (not to be confused with the World of Coke) and am now a proud member of Friendster. Please, if you also are a member, make me your friend. It's humiliating only having one.

My trip to the Braves game on Sunday was an exercise in Frustration of Monolithic Proportions (as compared with the midget proportions of puffy hair girl, supra). Due to traffic, both on I-75/85 and at the hot dog stand, I did not sit down to watch until the 6th inning! I missed the Giles homerun, which was pivotal and which would have been a first for me. I was angry, cranky, and unhappy with the lack of mustard at the Ted. But the Braves won, which is, of course, a plus. Two more and it's the division. Huzzah! Drat people and their cars and Atlanta's appalling lack of mass transportation. Hypocracy aside (she said, knowing that the car she was in contributed to the problem), I hate everyone.

Okay. Moral of the Blog: buy Sufjan, join Friendster, go Braves.

Tales from the "Liberry"

2005-09-23T17:28:00.000-05:00

Tales from the "Liberry"

Hot Librarian

2005-09-23T17:21:00.000-05:00

I had big plans to blog all about how cool librarians are because one day I think I'll likely be one. Instead. I'm going to blog a blog, which is close to the silliest thing I've ever heard of, but I think this thing really speaks for itself. So see above. Go to link. Enjoy. And in about five years, think of me, stalking the stacks in my librarian-wear, horned-rims and all. Then take a cold shower.

Game Day

2005-09-17T11:55:00.000-05:00

Uga VI for President. Seriously. Think about it. He can't be worse than what we've got now. He makes the public happy. He likes to taste babies. He licks ice. All the heads of state of all the other countries would just look at our president and say "Aww. Wook at his widdle face!" instead of saying "JIHAD!!" (unless they were cat people I guess). I mean, which is preferable, if one wanted to be honest with one's self? We could be squandering a golden P.R. opportunity here. Granted, drooling on the desk in the Oval Office won't really accomplish much in the way of "helping the Katrina victims" or "protecting the rights of Americans to marry whomever they wish" or "getting us out of the Iraq quagmire"--I mean obviously it hasn't worked for Dubya yet. But America's cuddly president--representing the best of the American football tradition--could take us far in the eyes of those who view us as cowboys and whatnot. Uga VI will not unilaterally attack anything (unless it's Florida; I hear Uga doesn't like Florida: but really, unilaterally attacking Florida will likely not result in quite the catastrophe we have in Iraq since octogenarian New Jersey transplants and vacationing families will probably not be able to mobilize in time to fight back), or read children's books while his countrymen are dying in hellish fires brought in the name of Allah (he's can't read, see), or garble his speeches to the chagrin of Americans who give a crap about how the world sees us (he really only has one word at his immediate disposal and that one, "Woof!" being neither noun nor verb, and quite effective at invigorating the morale of the Georgia football team and its fans), or alienate factions of the populace (he's rather universally appealing). There is the pesky question of whether this would be inviting the monarchy scheme of government back into the mix. Uga's title passes down by bloodline and appearance. But is that really different from what we've got going on now? I mean, show Americans a legacy and they'll practically pee themselves in excitement. So no problems there. We'll have "elections" so that we maintain the air of democracy, but it'll be no secret who'll win--the cutest little Commander in Chief ever!

Sorry about the diatribe. Today I am angry at our government. Go Dawgs!

Porn Forever

2005-09-12T20:12:00.000-05:00

To Nutmeg: (vb. trans.) Denotes an action in ball sports wherein a player causes the ball to pass between the legs of another player, preferably not resulting in a turnover of possession to the opponent.

So, Sectionals has come and gone. Internet Porn dominated--Second Place, baby! Second only to Johnny on the Spot (now taking nominations for the most derogatory play on this name that anyone can come up with --please keep it relatively family friendly) from Tennessee, which ain't too bad. We played JOTS only once during the weekend, due to the wicked-bad brackets that the TD came up with. They defeated us 13-9 in a game that I think we could have won if not for the most horrendous calls I have ever had the misfortune of being privy to. I do not like them, Sam I Am. In any event, the highlight of the weekend was undoubtedly defeating Shotgun (or "Gaygun" or "Snotgun" or whatever else you would like to call them) in the game for second/third. The glory of this victory is best conveyed through a monologue from the perennial-favorite sports movie, Hoosiers. But since I don't know what that monologue would sound like, suffice it to say that we lost our game to them on Sunday morning 15-11 after taking half 8-3. I was not a happy camper. The phrase "spitting nails" comes to mind. I was envisioning the horrible, wet things I would like to do to them for the rest of the day. And then we got our chance to show 'em what for. Granted they had just played a ridiculously difficult game against JOTS and we had had a relatively easy game against Soul Patrol (which it also felt darn good to win). But I choose to think that we would have beat them anyway, having had plenty of practice knowing how crappy it felt to lose to them. So there you have it. Second in the section. On to Regionals, which will be very challenging, to say the least. Silver lining: perhaps my Uncle Frank will be able to come and watch. Lovely. Okay, without further ado, the highlights:

--My first ever nutmeg: there I was being trapped on the line by JOTS's fierce zone defense, the count was getting up and I was beginning to panic; I start to fake 'em off me, trying desperately to pass to Wilbur who was anxiously trying to hear if I was being stalled; I saw my opportunity and almost simultaneously tried the stupidest move ever--I broke my mark and sent it through the legs of the middle of the cup. Wilbur caught it grinning. It was silly, ridiculous, gutsy, and dumb--and the most exhilerating feeling EVER.

--Don's footblock and subsequent score during the JOTS game: you don't know what a thing of beauty it is to see someone get a footblock while flatmarking until you've experienced it.

--Stephen's Triple Threat Point: he layout D's, skies a dude on the pass, and throws a beautiful score pass to someone cutting almost 180 degrees away from him. It's practically indescribable (though he was responsible for taking out Gazelle's elbow).

--Russell (he also wins props for being the only thing to be included on the highlight list and the lowlight list).

--Not getting sunburned.

--C & S

--Spooning with both Russell and Wilbur (though the happiness of that was somewhat marred by the fact that I had one of the worst night's sleep I've ever had--Russell totally throws 'bows in his sleep).

--The Pickle

Man, I cannot wait for Regionals. To do before the big weekend arrives: improve my defense, get my handling skills up to par again, make friends with He Who Will Remain Nameless. Oh, and for the record our jerseys will read: "Click Click...18 to Enter" which is beautiful in that it simultaneously pokes fun at Gaygun's favorite cheer "Click click Boom" and references the "double click" that must take place to view, ahem, pictures on the internet. Lovely. And family-friendly.

I.P. I love you.

I.P.

2005-09-05T21:52:00.000-05:00

Labor Day weekend was spent in sunny Chattanooga at the Shawn Adams Memorial Tournament dominating with Internet Porn, my fantastic co-ed ultimate team. We went 5-2 for the weekend, which is a winning record and therefore rather satisfying. However, we lost our two important games--one against Shotgun in pool play and then the quarterfinals game against Soul Patrol. These are disturbing losses because both teams are in our section and we will have to face them again this weekend at sectionals and beat them to secure a bid to regionals. But, I think that having seen them once, I.P. will be better prepared to face them this weekend. It's frustrating to lose games that you know your team could win. I mean, if we had gotten blown out of the water or something, that would be one thing. But we lost our game to Shotgun by three and our game to Soul Patrol by five. It's not like we got creamed. Anyway, while the outcome of the weekend may have been frustrating, there were some high points too:

--Watching the Margarita Race between Russell and Nash because brain freeze is funny when it's not happening to you.
--Creating the perfect man out of various players at the tournament with Dino and Sandra and Corr. So far we have the following:
Billy's Hair
Sample's Eyes
Nash's Brain
Stephen's Sense of Humor
Mike's Legs (and I'm angling for his dimples too)
Rick's Demeanor
Acuff's Torso (tho his pecs are mildly intimidating)
Russell's Teeth
Daag's Lips
Noticeable missing, of course, are arms, hands, feet, ears, and butt. If anyone out there has any suggestions, I'm all ears.
--Wilbur's lay out D and subsequent long shot to the end zone for a very timely pump up point during the Soul Patrol game.
--Dino's first ever huck for a score.
--The Football Play during the Chumpionship Finals (which we won, thankyouverymuch). I never knew I could play wide receiver.
--The Georgia Football Game (David who?).

Now it's back to the real world for a few days. Lame. Because the real world is really really sad right now.

A.P.B. Withdrawn

2005-08-31T10:56:00.000-05:00

Just so you know, Adam finally emailed and he's fine and hunkered in Lake Charles, La. with "Dane Folks." He may be coming home! Huzzah! Oh, I mean, darn that hurricane.

In other news I spent about an hour while I should have been reading for Environmental Law looking at various news sites' coverage of Katrina and weeping into my computer keyboard. Hurricanes scare the crap out of me.

Any Word?

2005-08-30T15:12:00.000-05:00

This is my friend Adam Protos. Adam moved to New Orleans a few weeks back. On Saturday evening he was telling people that it was his intent to remain in New Orleans and weather Katrina. On Sunday the mandatory evacuation was ordered. And as far as I know, no one has heard from Adam. I would like to know if anyone out there knows how to get in touch with my friend. He has no cell phone, is notorious for not answering his email, but could potentially have migrated to Atlanta to chill with his folks. I don't mean to be all doomsday--I don't really think he's dead or anything. Still, it would be nice to know that he and his Dane Arthur have made it to high ground. Protos, my love, put my mind at ease if you get this.

The Aristocrats

2005-08-29T23:38:00.000-05:00

First Things First: the GA Theater has replaced their old chairs (which were admittedly full of mold and more inappropriate substances) with new orange plastic foldy seats. I'm torn. The part of me that despises change hates the new orange chairs and wishes nothing but ill on whomever it was that decided orange was the way to go. The part of me that knows the best ways to avoid skin rashes fully supports the chair massacre. I wonder where the old ones went? Oh, and for those that follow such things, you'll be happy to know that I have stuck with my plan to boycott PBR sales at the GA Theater in protest of their outrageously inflated prices (please see the Kung Fu Hustle post to learn the origins of my disdain for the Theater's beverage sale practices). To get back at me, however, the Powers that Be arranged for me to sit for the entire movie under a bit of the ceiling that was dripping what Jen and I decided was GA Theater Ghost Pee. Mmmm.

Second Things Second: I am going to marry Eddie Izzard and have all of his babies. I hope the babies will have his accent despite the fact that we will be raising them in the South.

Third Things Third: The Aristocrats is a darn good movie. I'm not a fan of Penn & Teller (why doesn't the little guy talk?!) but I must say that Penn has put together quite a little comedy gem with this movie. It purports to be about a dirty joke, but really it's about comedy and comedians. And it's really really interesting. Funniest bits, in my humble opinion, are the Christopher Walken impression, the South Park bit, and Sarah Silverman. I've ruined nothing. You should all see it immediately.

Postal Workers Have Good Legs

2005-08-26T21:06:00.000-05:00

I don't know if our model is a postal worker or not. He could be. For all I know he was Employee of the Month over on Olympic Drive four times running. Everyone over there could be really jealous of him and his picture being up every month. They could all get together and plot little sabotages--taking the spark plugs out of ole Mail Truck No. 77893; putting a hole in the bottom of his mail tote; putting itch powder is his jaunty cap that he's so proud of. He could pride himself on his punctuality, his dedication to quality mail service. He could be friend of housewife and housedog alike. He never loses the Netflix, this postman. He never decides not to take/leave mail simply because someone has parked (legally) ten yards away from the mailbox. Oh, heavens no. Our mailman doesn't care if people park near the mailbox. He's on foot, Postal Employee of the Month is. He's on foot and can walk right up to that mailbox and put those Netflix in and take those old Netflix out. He's on foot and that's why he has such amazing legs. He could be the very postal worker I was shamelessly ogling today at the Lumpkin St. Barberritos. There he was, minding his own Employee of the Month business, and I was "accidentally" dropping my guacamole-slimed napkin on the floor so that I could get another look at those postal worker legs. Who knew that navy blue polyester shorts could be so appetizing?

Judiciary Antics

2005-08-25T11:15:00.000-05:00

For an entertaining look at how sensitive our federal courts are to what the kids are doing these days, check out the use of "the vernacular" in this copyright infringement case:

www.orrick.com/fileupload/505.pdf

You can just see the disapproval on their pinched little faces.

In other news, Wal-Mart is selling a skeleton dressed like a pirate that dances and appears to do karaoke to the song, "Super Freaky." It was being eyed with some enthusiasm by the tired-looking woman in the pink terrycloth shorts and the white t-shirt with a map of Georgia displayed on it. To give you a sense of the scale, Atlanta was on her left clavicle and Valdosta was located squarely on her ass. I'm a classist and a bad person.

Misery Loves Company

2005-08-24T21:22:00.000-05:00

See if you can't find the answers to the following questions (and tell me if you do):

1) Who has the final say regarding whether a law is constitutional, Congress or the Supreme Court?

2) If an intestate decedent leaves two surviving children, each with several children of their own, and several grandchildren of a deceased child, which descendants will receive how much of the intestate's estate if we are operating under 53-2-1 of the GA Code? If we are in a Uniform Probate Code jurisdiction?

3) What was Scalia's primary justification for striking down hate crime legislation in R.A.V. v. St. Paul? Was his reasoning convincing? Why or why not? And how does this opinion related to the broader topic of censorship w/r/t the Mass Media?

4) Expound on the idea/expression dichotomy in the area of photography copyright. What are the particular problems that a court faces when deciding the "originality" question w/r/t substantially similar photographs?

5) Should the courts weigh the interests of the parties when deciding questions of pollution control? Are you a "moral outrage" advocate or a "cool analysis" advocate? Explain.

6) Will I ever have a job?

Contestant No. Ten: Tina Fey

2005-08-15T17:17:00.000-05:00

And I'm appalled that it took me this long to think of her. Okay, besides being an actor on Second City's Main Stage (a feat in and of itself), she has also made history by becoming SNL's first female headwriter in I think 1999. And the show is better for it. She's also an actor on SNL, but I think the writing is her best feature. If you don't believe me, check out Weekend Update sometime or the Momjeans commercial. Oh, Lord, so funny. Added to all of the above is her recent movie, Mean Girls, which was one of the funniest movies I've seen in quite some time. Smart, irreverent, applicable to real life. You name it. So here's to Tina Fey, best funny lady around.

The Official End of Summer?

2005-08-15T16:13:00.001-05:00

Well, the last of my summer ultimate outlets has officially come and gone. The Atlanta Summer League End of Season Tournament was this weekend with Afternoon Delight making an impressive, if not victorious showing once again. We made it to semi-finals where we lost a heartbreaker to Really Really Ridiculously Good-looking Team by one point. I half-way blame the quarters game for the loss. We beat Toast by one after coming back from a 10-6 deficit. That game really wore out our studs, unfortunately. Plus RRRGT has the fastest women. Ever. And I'm not fast in any universe. So, sucky for us. But we got to watch a really good finals game between RRRGT and Fun Bags, who eventually won.

Highlights of the weekend:
1) Chadtrey's Greatest on Saturday at an absolutely critical juncture
2) Me actually managing to throw two successful hucks (one flick, one backhand) during the semifinals
3) Frank's layout catch of a dump pass on D
4) Me throwing grass at one of the girls from Toast when she fouled the crap out of me
5) Same girl whispering in my ear for the rest of the point that if I can't run faster than her I should get off the field
6) Dino's amazing one-inch-off-the-ground grab of one of the crappiest throws I've ever let rip
7) Not getting hit by lightning
8) Putting straws/napkin/cup in the back pants pocket of the dude at The Local
9) Roching E to flirt with Prior while waiting for Hensley to finally stop cramping in the middle of a point
10) Watching Moxie dominate Dallas (who was previously undominated and a boy)

Oh! I should also mention that I made quite the showing in the PBR Mile last Thursday. Unfortunately, I did not manage to win, thereby costing Joel Wooten $2.00 or so. But, to my credit, I did get the fourth beer down before booting on the first bit of the track. For the uninformed, the PBR Mile consists of shotgunning a PBR tallboy, running a quartermile, then repeating three more times. So I got all the way to the end and my little tummy couldn't take anymore. I got totally shown up by this girl from Whiffle Ball. She was maybe a buck twenty and came in second to the reigning champion. Oh, and she'd never shotgunned a beer before. Lucky schmuck. Well, the first beer of the Mile was only the third I had ever done. I don't care what anyone says. I'm very proud of myself. And I put Ernie "Mountain of a Man" Strauss's (he's the one in blue) record the first time out to shame. So there. I can drink like a man. My parents are very proud.

And that's that. It's to class with me tomorrow and back to being a real person as a sad byproduct. What will I do without ultimate? I basically hung up my cleats for two years and I was not okay. I don't want that to happen again, so I'm hoping for the best with IP, my mixed team. We're off to Shawn Adams for Labor Day weekend where I hope we will make a good showing. And with that tournament, I am relegated to scraping my ultimate off the sidewalk instead of scooping it out of the bin by the handful. Sigh. I miss my embarrassment of riches.

The Lavender Menace

2005-08-01T14:54:00.000-05:00

This Saturday was spent playing soggy ultimate at Sandy Creek Park. It was the Athens Summer League End of Summer Tournament. I gotta say, my little team really pulled it out. Normally I hate to lose, but the bad feelings were more than counterbalanced by the general comraderie and breathtaking talent that epitomized the Purple People Eaters. Our offense could not be stopped during pool play and we rolled over SubLime and Sage 9-1 in both games. The semi-finals was more of a battle against SkyBlue (did they ever come up with a team name?). I actually don't know the final score, but I think it was in the realm of 13-5 or 6 or 7. What a fantastic game that was. A battle for every score with both teams playing with a previously unheard-of fire. And, remarkably, there was relatively good spirit maintained by both teams. In a game that intense, you expect more bickering. We had our share, but nothing compared to what I've seen in similar circumstances between lesser men. Then there was the finals against the Peach Team (the team name assigned by our captain, Jeremy, will not be repeated here since this is a family-oriented site). What can you do against a team that boasts David Neder, Ricky Tse, Chase Thomas, Ben Mathes, Leslie "Dino" Walden, and a host of talented rookies? They never messed up. Not even once. They won quite beautifully and by quite a wide margin. But you know what? Lavender never quit. We played our best until the last and we had fun doing it. Sure it was frustrating, it's alwasy frustrating to lose. But man oh man did we have heart. So I just wanted to give a shout out to the Lavender team. It was absolutely a pleasure playing with all of you this summer. My MVP nomination most definitely goes to one Amble Johnson. For keeping us all pumped up, for being a paragon of spirit, for playing with fire every single time you stepped on the pitch, for traveling from West Virginia to be with us, for letting five muddy people ride in your van to Subway, for nearly skying Potter in that stupid picture, for saying nothing but nice things about everyone all the time, for being an in general all-around most awesome guy, you are my MVP.

Contestant No. Nine: Jeanette Lee

2005-07-29T15:36:00.000-05:00

I was first introduced to The Black Widow by Christian. He's into watching pool on television, mostly when it's her playing. After hearing of her from him, I quickly realized that there was quite the little subculture devoted to Jeanette Lee. Kind of like when you learn a new word and it suddenly appears in everything you read. Is that only me? Anyway, Jeanette Lee is an extremely accomplished pool player, has authored a book titled The Black Widow's Guide to Killer Pool, has been named The Sportsperson of the Year, was ranked No. 1 in the world after she played pool for only 5 years, and she's hot hot hot. I'm in favor of recognition for women making good in a man's world, so this is my nod to that.

I Hate Moving

2005-07-29T15:26:00.000-05:00

I was watching the movie Kissing Jessica Stein one time and I was made angry by the following scene. The two main characters decide to move in together. There is a montage dedicated to showing just how much fun the two women have moving heavy, awkward boxes. They giggle in the doorway when they can't coordinate efficiently and run into each other. They roll their eyes affectionately at the cutely exhausting work. WTF!? This dangerous propaganda is the reason why I am always unprepared at moving time. I see my entertainment heroes having quality laughs during these transitional times and I assume everything will be a piece of red velvet cake. But goodness, no. I got approximately three hours of sleep all weekend (a weekend which lasted from Friday until Tuesday--and not in a good way). I practically threw my back out with the boxes of books that I do not need. I am dying from Attack of the Mold Spores. And I still have to move my stuff out of Christian's house into my new apartment. It never ends, this process. Stupid movies.

At least I have my friends Harry, Ron, and Hermione to keep me company in my time of anguish.

Jumping on the Bandwagon

2005-07-16T12:41:00.000-05:00

Gardner did this after Hillary did so I thought I would too. I love not ever having an original idea.

10 years ago: Wow. Summer of 1995. Turns out I have a memory worth nothing. Let's see. That would be the summer after my freshman year of high school. It's most likely that I was at camp. Because that's what I did back in the Jesus Days (as I call my years of extreme piety). I believe that was the summer I got voted to be on the Episcopal Youth Commission, which at the time was a very big deal for me. This indirectly led to a James Brown sighting outside of the Sheraton in Augusta, Georgia where my friend Lonnie convinced him to do his trademark, "Ow!" Ah, memories.

5 years ago: That was the summer I learned to drive buses. My first/only college job. By the end of the summer I could parallel park those suckers. Also spent the summer in class and playing Athens Summer League. The maroon team. We rocked.

1 year ago: Drove buses all summer and visted Christian on the IFP trip. Not sure if I was there at this exact time of the summer, though it does seem about right. Flew into San Fransisco and flew back from Portland about a week and a half later, stopping at various places along the way. Highlight of the trip: overcoming extreme fear and jumping into Crater Lake. 28 degrees. Blergh.

Yesterday: Sat around pointedly not studying for my exam. Took the car to get the brakes worked on. Bugged Leigh for a while. Went to happy hour at the Manhattan and partook of Maker's Mark and Blenheims. Best drink ever. Proceeded to Room 13 and partook of High Lifes. Second best drink ever. Moved then to The 40 Watt to dance the night away to the Krush Girls and drink PBR tallboys. Third best drink ever. Post Girls we went off for some nightswimming at Waterford Apts. Let the good times roll.

Today: Recover from last night. Study. Work. Huzzah!

Tomorrow: Matinee of The Wedding Crashers. Work. Study.

5 Snacks I enjoy: Chunky Monkey, Cheddar Jack Cheezits, Dark Chocolate Twix, Red Popcicles, Oranges

5 bands/artists that I know the lyrics of MOST of their songs: Indigo Girls, Counting Crows, The Beatles, Wilco, R.E.M.

5 things I would do with $100,000,000: I'm with Gardner. Let's pretend I've done all the requisite give money to family, pay off loans, get a car, give to charity etc. I would open my bookstore, I would go to Greece for just as long as I want, I would buy some wilderness somewhere and I would let it sit, then I would run out of ideas

5 locations I'd like to run away to: Majorca, Oxford, Point Reyes National Seashore, the Pottery Barn Catalogue, my mom

5 bad habits I have: cracking my gum, procrastination, smoking in bars, letting the dishes pile up, not washing my face at night

5 things I like doing: going to baseball games, reading like I have no responsibilities, drinking coffee, playing with Moxie, playing ultimate

5 things I would never wear: those weird fuzzy boots, anything with only one strap, a Yankees hat, a thong in public, egg on my face

5 TV shows I like: The Gilmore Girls, The Daily Show, The Simpsons, The Family Guy, Desperate Housewives

5 movies I like: When Harry Met Sally..., The Purple Rose of Cairo (and almost every other movie made by Woody Allen), The Wizard of Oz, High Fidelity, The Neverending Story (I don't care what Gardner says)

5 famous people I'd like to meet: Adrien Brody, Ryan Langerhans, Jon Stewart, Diane Lane, Kurt Vonnegut, Sophia Coppola (hah! that's six! you can't put me in a box!)

5 biggest joys at the moment: playing ultimate again, receiving Harry Potter 6 in the mail (which happened today), summer class ending, Dino getting a new dog, having a tan

5 favorite toys: ipod, Moxie, blog, Netflix, 175 gram Discraft disc

5 people who will do their own: Stephen will probably do one. And Will. Beyond that I don't know. I don't have a lot of friends, you see.

Contestant No. Eight: Scarlett Johansson

2005-07-15T11:34:00.000-05:00

Okay. This is where I officially bow to peer pressure. I wasn't going to do it. A contestant with the physical attributes of Scarlett Johansson is just too easy, in my opinion. But then I got to thinking about things and I have decided that since she has talent in spades to go with the aforementioned attributes, if she ends up the Epitome of Female Beauty, we could do worse. I personally think that she deserves the nomination based solely on Lost in Translation, Ghost World, and If Lucy Fell. Those movies more than balance the questionable decision-making that went into In Good Company, Spongebob Squarepants, and The Perfect Score. This girl was out-acting people when she was, like, nine. And she's way less scary than that Dakota Fanning. So, there you have it. Scarlett Johansson. Let's hear it for choosing pseudo love scenes with Colin Firth and for walking around a Japanese hotel room in your underpants.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

2005-07-13T11:31:00.000-05:00

In your spare time you should check out Buddy Gardner's blog, which currently features a small blurb about yours truly. Yes, my genius and impeccable taste have finally been recognized and I am a Quarterfinals Judge in Gardner's all-important Everything Idol competition. Stay tuned!

Sky Rockets in Flight

2005-07-13T10:56:00.000-05:00

We lit it up, like the Fourth of July, baby! They never saw it coming, not from underdogs like us. But boy, did we ever show them. Afternoon Delight dominated the AFDC Summer League Midseason Tournament. It was made to be our bitch. 8-0 for the weekend. Oh yeah! And now the forums are just buzzing with, "Man, did you see that sick layout D Neder had?" and, "I didn't know KWoo had such a big hammer--let alone three of them in one point!" and, "I can't believe Chad's parents left before his Callahan score," and, "When did Frank Wooten get to be thirty feet tall?" and, "Ricky was pissed as hell, man!" and other such accolades born of pure shock. But was Afternoon Delight surprised? The fans want to know. Well, you may take it from me, fans, Afternoon Delight was only surprised at the first come-from-behind win over the Schmitt Kickers (who knew you could be down 7-2 at half and proceed to dominate so completely?). After that, nothing could surprise us. We showed 'em how we roll.

Okay, okay. All boasting aside. I could not have had a better weekend. Turns out I am on the most nicestest team in the history of AFDC Summer League and that when the shit goes down we are able to turn on the afterburners and kick some butt. Who could ask for more? On top of that I got to go out on the ATL town for the first time in my meager existance. I was introduced to the nightlife of East Atlanta in the form of The Heaping Bowl and The Earl. Great times. Tho I will admit to practically falling asleep into my free Strongbow (thanks Hensley!) while trying to keep track of the lightening-quick conversation b/t KQ and Stersic and David Bradley and Echto and poor Hensley who was trying to keep me awake. Sigh. I am not as young as I used to be. And I think it's safe to say that the late night most definitely affected my game on Sunday. But, be that as it may, we still won and I'm still excited to be part of Afternoon Delight.

Highlights of the weekend:
--Free food out of the Pickle (Andy Grimes for President!)
--Actually managinng to get a D, and on Kate Wilson no less, who falls into the category of "I want to be her when I grow up"
--Colin's behind the back thumber (no look scoober? what the heck was that thing) to KWoo who had the most spectacular lay-out miss ever
--Passing the Jaeger at half-time
--Jaeger bombs after the big finals win
--the comeback against Schmitt Kickers in pool play
--watching our deep boys do no wrong

Okay. I've gushed enough. Here's to looking forward to a repeat at the End of Season Tournament. I love to win!

Contestant No. Seven: Serena Williams

2005-07-07T12:33:00.000-05:00

I was going to go with Maria Sharapova on this one, and I'm willing to listen to arguments that I made the incorrect decision, but I'm just so mightily impressed with Serena Williams that I felt it would be quite remiss of me not to include her. She was 17 years old when she won her first Grand Slam singles title at the U.S. Open in 1999, and she has continued to be dominant since, winning the French Open and Wimbledon in 2002 and the Australian Open in 2003 and 2005. And that's not even all of them. Not to mention that she won many of these titles at the expense of sister Venus (who, to her credit, just won Wimbledon), from whom she stole the No. 1 rank. I don't think I'm alone in saying that Venus and Serena have completely altered the game of women's tennis forever, I think Serena more so than Venus, even if Venus did come first. The level of athleticism she displays and the aggressiveness of her game basically demand that opponents attempt to match them. Serena is a catalyst for progress in both the perception of women's sports and in the sports themselves.

Special Delivery

2005-07-07T11:35:00.000-05:00

Dear Ryan Langerhans,

I was at the soggy game on Tuesday and I began to get really curious about something. Do you get creeped out when fans talk to you like they know you? I never wondered about this sort of thing before--strange considering my tenure as a baseball fan and how my mind tends to wander. But this struck me onTuesday when you walked up to the plate after the rain delay and I, from my purloined seats behind Blanco, proceeded to catcall you. I suppose I should tell you that you have the extreme honor of being my first baseball-related crush (Javy Lopez doesn't count). Hence the catcalling. But the thing about it is that I don't even do that to people I know. I actually find it mildly insulting. Well, sometimes I do it to Hensley, but only because I want to fit in. So why do fans believe that their sports stars (which you will be among soon) belong to them? Why is it okay to insult players from the seats? Fans can be quite nasty sometimes, as I'm sure you know. So I thought I would ask if it bugs you. If it doesn't, I might keep catcalling. And in our unique situation, I'll have to take silence to equal consent. I think in the back of my mind somewhere I actually think we'll have some bizarre eye-contact moment and you'll immediately run over and give me your phone number. Stranger things have happened, I tell myself. Witness Neutral Milk Hotel's lyric, "Can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all." So if you and I can exist, it's at least possible that we could meet, have a moment, and exchange phone numbers. All that being said, if you find it difficult to tune out the fans for whom you play (or do you actually play for love of the game? a topic for next time), and you find the catcalling dehumanizing and irritating, I will cease and desist immediately if not sooner. You're on your way to being a commodity, albeit a beloved, well-paid, and closely-watched one. Who am I to hasten the process? So anyway, good luck in your forthcoming games. I'll be at some of them since the Braves finally won a game I attended (first time ever!) and I can now visit Turner Field with a clean conscience. And as I watch I'll be not-so-secretly imagining what our babies would look like and whether they'd play baseball or ultimate or eschew sports altogether. Is that weird?

Affectionately,
Amy

Summer of the Dark Chocolate Twix

2005-07-05T12:22:00.000-05:00

I never thought that I would be the type to have this kind of obsession. Looking at the situation from an objective standpoint, there's really no reason I should be surprised. I have a relatively addictive personality, I suppose. I smoked like a zealot for a number of years until I realized that I liked to be able to run without dragging an oxygen tank behind me. I read books like they are going out of style, no matter what more pressing obligations are thereby placed indefinitely on the backburner. I play ultimate as if life itself depends upon my continually donning the cleats and the cleat-feet to accompany them. So I tend to submerge myself in the things that interest me. But candy? Candy? I was at Target a few short weeks ago and I managed to purchase 25 Dark Chocolate Twix bars because they were half price and because they are delicious. They are limited edition, you see, so I felt it was worth it to shell out $24.00 and keep the little twin sticks of goodness in the freezer. Lord knows if I would ever be able to purchase them again. I should have known I have a problem at that point. There were only 24 by the time I got home from Target and now, if you'll allow me a moment to count, there are 20. Dwindling numbers. Sigh. I cannot stop buying these candy bars. On the way to Tennessee this weekend for the SMUT tournament we stopped for gas at a BP and, lord in heaven, they had the Twix and I bought five. Five! Who does that? I intended to give them out over the course of the weekend to those who exhibited stellar ability on the ultimate pitch. Of course that means that I ate one during a rain delay, gave one to O-face who drove me to the tourney, managed to give one to Futureman for a pretty spectacular lay-out D, tried to give one each to Stephen and Jess, but, remarkably, those and the last one are all missing. At the moment I am trying not to immediately return to one of the two pages I found where you can buy these candy bars in bulk. I need to remember that I do not need to shell out $30.00 for candy. But see, that's the problem with addiction. It does not bow to rational thought. Your need is a monkey on your back, cracking his little whip, compelling you to fix. Damn Twix.

Contestant No. Six: Gillian Welch

2005-07-01T11:05:00.000-05:00

The wonderful thing about this contest of mine is that I get to decide what the "beauty rules" are. I like power. And I think that Gillian Welch is beautiful. And I think that her contribution to folk/bluegrass/country music more than qualifies her for a place among these Contestants. How one woman can summon images of the Depression, the Sixties, the Grand Ole Opry, and George Clooney at the same time is beyond me, but she manages it. She is truly transcendant, if you will allow me something of a cliche. And thus, she is Contestant No. Six.

That's a Funny Word

2005-07-01T00:55:00.000-05:00

I'm canvassing to find out what words people think sound funny. To start:

Freckle
Ointment
Moist
Lobster
Sleeeeeeeepy
Pregnant

Okay. Go.

Contestant No. Five: Jane Goodall

2005-06-30T13:11:00.000-05:00

Granville calls her the Monkey Lady. I call her Beautiful.

Christian says that someone once referred to Jane Goodall as "National Geographic's pin-up girl." If that isn't enough to get her on this list, I don't know what is. Oh, unless it's her tireless efforts to make the world a better place in which to live. She was also one of the first women to go into the African wilderness for her research and to use that journey to revolutionize primatology. This, of course, affects how we understand ourselves as well. So here's to Jane Goodall, conservationist, scientist, beautiful woman.

Shoutout

2005-06-30T11:23:00.000-05:00

It occurred to me today that I have not spent nearly enough time lauding my school chums. Which is a very strange thing because they are omnipresent in my life and my thoughts. So this is the Official Law School Friends Post, long overdue and likely very inadequate. The thing is that I believe they have absolutely no idea just how important they are to me. I could just see that conversation:

Me: Hey guys, have a seat a minute. I want to tell you something.
Granville: Okaaaay (insert witty pun)
Billy: Oh God, you're not going to tell us you love us or anything, are you?
Me: Well, yes, actually. That's exactly what I was going to do.
Justin: [Dismissive wave of the hand; probably leaves at this point]
Me: I just didn't want another day to go by without telling y'all how much you mean to me.
[Dix and Gussio roll eyes]

Etc, etc. Anna would believe me. Shawn would make fun of me. Anuj would make a really really bad joke. And it would all be perfect because this is exactly why I love these people. We share social ineptitude and a fear of Prof. Coenen (except for Billy who I think believes he has gotten Coenen all figured out). We manage to get really sick of each other and remain friends at the same time. How awesome is that?

I came to law school more or less convinced that it would be a mass of sorostitutes and frat-tastics and that I would slink around the edges of law school life unnoticed or, worse, universally despised. Lucky for me Anna noticed me wearing my Gardner Linn Fan Club t-shirt and we discovered that we have that in common (love and affection for one Gardner Linn). Soon I was in a little club with her and Chris (who I met while polluting my lungs back in my smoking days). You cannot imagine my delight. Friends! It wasn't long before Anna and I found our way to the library table of Granville, Shawn, and Justin. Chris passed his time in the Annex, a place to which Anna and I just could not bring ourselves to follow him. The library crew expanded to include Billy, Anuj, Dix, Gussio, and Ryan and we never looked back.

So this is my official thank you to all those I met in law school. When I say you were my rock, it is, quite possibly, the biggest understatement of my life. You were the reason I maintained a (tenuous) grasp on my sanity. You were the reason I managed to convince myself to come to school every day. So dismiss it if you want, but I love you all very very much. I know that there is a distinct possibility that we will sort of part company this next year or the year after. But even if that is the case, I will consider all of you friends for life and you will always be welcome to crash on my couch.

The Vamp of Savannah

2005-06-29T10:37:00.000-05:00

Constant Reader--

I must apologize for my absence of late. I took the weekend to jet-set off to sunny (humid) Savannah to visit the fam and enjoy a change of scenery. I arrived on Friday and was introduced to the wonderful world of disc golf by the rather formidable Stephen (he won his age-division in the First "Annual" Savannah Disc Golf Competition). There was much frustration, after which I was left with the dismal score of 20 over par. Stephen says that it's okay because it was my first time out and I played with a "big lid" (golfer slang for "normal frisbee"). Still. One likes to believe that one is above average. We returned to McLaws St. and to a steaming pot of homemade Brunswick stew. Delicious with Frank's Hot Sauce and Braves baseball, both of which were in abundant supply at the dinner table. On Saturday Stephen and I went rainy-day book shopping. I convinced him to buy The Golden Compass and Lonesome Dove, both must-reads for anyone who fancies him- or herself a book-lover. After that it was lunch at The Exchange with my oldest friend Katie Roachfort (not oldest as in, she's wrinkled and incontinent, but old as in, she knew me when I was drawing hearts around boys' names on my composition books at Blessed Sacrament and when I was big-fish-small-ponding it at St. Vincent's). Nothin' like old friends, I always say. Then home for pot roast (yes I ate twice, as would you if you had ever had my mother's pot roast) and renting movies with Stephen. Stephen, Mama, and I all watched "Mean Girls" and then off to bed. You know, Lindsay Lohan looked so much better plump and with red hair. Just my two Lincolns on that topic. The next day Stephen and I slept in and then off for five hours of ultimate in Forsythe Park in the unbelievable humidity. My personal hell will definitely be that kind of humidity where you feel as if you are breathing underwater. The Salley children dominated, humidity or no. Must be the genes. After that it was off to the worst Mexican restaurant ever. Sorry that I don't remember the name (tho they are probably pretty happy about it). Worst shrimp cocktail ever. Worst margarita ever. Worst price for both. And my ass got wet in the bargain. But there was some brief entertainment after Sam lost a roche (paper, rock, scissors to the uninformed) to shoot a little bit of the cocktail remnants. In his words (after a particularly heinous showing), "I wasn't prepared for the chunks." Priceless. The next day I got up early so that my optometrist, Dr. Bradley, could tell me that I have a cyst in my right eye. Gross. Then shopping at Target with Mama followed by lunch with Renna at Brighter Day. Best white chocolate cheesecake that close to the Savannah River. I recommend the chicken salad sandwich. Then home to accidentally fall asleep, pack, and get on the road.

It was a wonderful trip, though it gets sadder and sadder to make the trip. Every time I go back something is new, either in the McLaws St. house or in the greater Savannah metropolitan area. I just get reminded that I don't live there anymore. It's weird. Athens isn't my home, though I've lived here for seven years. Savannah is feeling less and less like home the longer the time between real visits. Is it true, then, what they say? Can you ever go home again?

Thank you for hearing me out for neglecting you all weekend, Reader. I hope that hiatuses like this one will be few and far between.

Much Love,
Amy

Contestant No. Four: Shabana Azmi

2005-06-22T10:16:00.000-05:00

Shabana circa 1974
With at least 118 movies to her credit since 1974, you would this this star of both Bollywood and New Indian Cinema wouldn't need much else to separate her from the crowd. It is, apparently, quite rare to conquor the art world of New Indian Cinema and the commerical world of Bollywood. But oh no, she didn't stop there. Now a member of Indian Parliament, she works fighting for the rights of minorities, slum-dwellers, and women. In addition, she has written and directed a movie which is now in pre-production.

2005-06-22T10:15:00.000-05:00

Shabana Azmi

Contestant No. Three: Audrey Hepburn

2005-06-21T12:16:00.000-05:00

My Fair Lady
Audrey Hepburn. Those eyes. That neck. Those lips. All that time spent saving the world through UNICEF and her Children's Fund. Truly, they do not make them like this anymore.

Okay, by popular demand (and a need to avoid having Gardner harangue me anymore) I am composing the Official Rules to the Epic Search for the Epitome of Female Beauty (not to be confused with Gardner's Everything Idol contest, to which I am aware this little endeavor of mine bears a very striking resemblance indeed). To wit:

1) Contestants must be physically beautiful. Now, this is a very liquid and relative concept. What defines beauty, after all? Everyone has different tastes. Every age has different standards. There are hair and fashion fads to be considered. So I have no way of being more specific than, they must be physically beautiful. If you look at them and say, "Good Lord she's beautiful," then we're on to something. NB: beautiful is NOT the same thing as hot. I believe I am not alone in thinking that one can be hot w/o being beautiful and vice versa. Often the two occur together (see Angelina Jolie). So being hot is not a disqualifier. One must use one's judgment in these situaitons.

2) Contestants must have some accomplishment to their names beyond being blessed with good genes (or good plastic surgeons). To me, the epitome of female beauty would possess some extraodinary talent or philanthropic tendency or business savvy or something. It's high time the beauty of a woman includes attributes beyond the two that adorn her frontal area. So, in my ideal beautiful woman, there will reside such personal qualities as will make even the most accomplished among us absolutely green.

3) Nominations will continue until I feel like the number has gotten silly. I realize this will likely turn this blog into some nauseating celebration of women with the occasional entertaining anecdote from my ever-fascinating life. The wonderful thing is that this is my f-ing blog and I shall do what I like with it. So there.

And that concludes the Offical Rules. Feel free to make suggestions which meet the requirements set forth in Rule 1 and Rule 2. This is fun. We can live vicariously through the beautiful and talented and thank God that we are not as exhausted as they most likely are/were.

Contestant No. Two: Elyse Sewell

2005-06-20T11:19:00.000-05:00

Elyse in a Modern Art Moment
Would it be possible for me to have a contest for Epitome of Female Beauty without including my one true girl love? To add to her list of accomplishments (please see the previous post about her for others): she deferred medical school to model, she takes the most amazing self-portraits I have ever seen, and she can swear like a Mexican sailor. Did I mention her devestating wit and love of inappropriately-named foreign foodstuffs?

You know, if she ever sees this blog, I am going to have some 'splainin' to do to keep myself out of stalker prison.

Contestant No. One: Mukhtaran Bibi

2005-06-19T11:36:00.000-05:00

The first contestant in the contest of Epitome of Female Beauty. Not your typical beauty pageant fare, but this amazing woman has practially no equal in strength of conviction and using a horrible situation to achieve some good. For more on Mukhtaran Bibi, please see the NY Times editorial on her in today's issue. The initial article about her from last year can be found here.

Conversations Over Miller Lite Pitchers

2005-06-18T12:42:00.000-05:00

In no particular order:

Michael Jackson's Skull: Millenia from now, when archaeologists uncover the skull of Michael Jackson, will they think that he was an alien? Or will the Prince of Pop opt for freezing his head a la Walt Disney?

To Queen: "Queen" as verb, as in, "Did you see that guy? He totally just queened me!" To be used when men of the homosexual persuasion posture to make sure there's no mistake about it. Can be modified with "double" or even "cube," as in "He double queened my ass!" Warning: using this word means you have automatically queened as well.

The Epitome of Female Beauty: Chris's pick--Elizabeth Taylor in the good days; George's pick--Christy Turlington; Patrick's pick--Angelina Jolie; Amy's pick--Jennifer Connelly; of course we all realize that there are more beautiful women than can be covered in one trip to Room 13. Where is Audrey Hepburn, Lana Turner? Where are all the non-whites? I think I will endeavor for my next post to put together a comprehensive list of the most beautiful women ever. Wish me luck.

Jewish Tattooed Gay Folksinger: Apparently a real person, possibly the most disenfranchised person on the planet. But I am open to suggestions as to who could have it worse. Maybe if he was black and a woman too.

Hasidic Rapper: A natural progression from the previous topic. I suggest that he name an album, "Acidic." See? Funny? It has an edge and he's Hasidic. Ha.

Katie Holmes: Will she or won't she convert to scientology now that she will allegedly become Mrs. Tom Cruise (No. 3)?

Finding Nemo--Good or Bad?: There was a split at our table concerning whether Finding Nemo really deserved all the hype levelled at it from various critics and the moviegoing masses. I'm on the "yes" side: beautiful images, touching story, witty dialogue, ridiculously talented cast, etc, ad nauseum. On the "No" side were the arguments that it is smarmy (sp?) and manipulative. Opinions?

"I'm Not Gay as in Happy, I'm Queer as in Fuck You" (excuse my language, Mom and Dad): My friend Chris is trying to convince me to march in the Gay Pride Parade next weekend in Atlanta. He doesn't seem to think it's a big deal that I am not gay. And that leaves me to wonder: is gay pride only for the queer? The quote which names this topic is the slogan that will be found on the T-shirt I am to wear as I pretend to be gay in front of Atlanta's prideful multitudes.

Internet Relationships: I met my first internet relationship last night. One half contacted the other half after being intrigued by the latter's pictures and comments on his MySpace page. I indicated my confusion over whether or not it is considered good etiquette to contact someone you don't know b/c you think there is a possibility that you have things in common. Of course, how is that any different from looking up someone in the phone book once upon a time? The question, I suppose, is where does hedging your bets end and stalking begin? For what it's worth, the contactee in the relationship at issue was a bit freaked out to be contacted in such a manner. But he seems to have gotten over it admirably.

What Does France Smell Like Anyway?: George was wearing a new shirt last night and upon smelling it we all agreed that it smelled like France. The scent was somewhere between lemon and jasmine and new car. I don't know why this smell should be so reminiscent of France, but we were unanimous. When you think France, what do you smell?

Superego

2005-06-17T13:04:00.000-05:00

Hensley, when asked what I should blog, replied, "How sexy I am?" Be careful what you wish for. Please enjoy the pictures of Mr. Hensley Sejour, chemical engineering graduate student and ultimate frisbee god. He's single, ladies!

2005-06-17T13:03:00.001-05:00

Hot or Not?

2005-06-17T13:03:00.000-05:00

Hensley's game face

This has nothing to do with Michael Jackson

2005-06-14T13:27:00.000-05:00

I feel the need to buck the trend today and not to say anything at all about a certain one-gloved wonder who may or may not have molested children at his bizarre carnivalhouse. Instead I will blog the first thing that comes into my head at this moment: grass! I love grass! Grass grows, it's green, and according to my brother it tastes like salad. He was promised a dollar to eat some grass at the Sweetwater tournament and he is without that part of the brain that allows a person of ordinary intelligence and social savvy to say no when money is offered for inane undertakings. If you ever meet him, you should ask him about the cup of feta dressing and tartar sauce. If you have a strong stomach.

In other news, Moxie is feeling poorly today. She was pissed as hell at me for boarding her while I traipsed off to Ohio to get my fill of ultimate and chicken. She likes both those things and doesn't understand that sometimes Mommy needs a little me time. So she's staging a protest in the form of hunger strike. That girl, I tell ya. A chip off the old block. Not that I would ever have the wherewithall to actually make myself not eat. Nope. Not me. BIG fan of eating. Big. Hensley says that the only protests dogs make is having to relieve themselves outside by doing so in your shoes and on your rug. But my dog is special and different and classy and has social issues to protest. Like putting dogs in kennels. Well, I hate to tell her this, but like most protests, it has fallen on deaf ears. I predict the Moxster will be put in a kennel yet again. I'm like Mommy Dearest over here. Who knew?

Peep Show--Keep on Peepin' On

2005-06-13T13:13:00.000-05:00

Peepin' it Real
This is the official shout-out to the Savannah kids who let me crash their Peep Show party this weekend at the Poultry Days ultimate tournament. Two days of fun but soggy ultimate, the best rotisserie chicken I have ever had the pleasure of putting in my mouth, ghetto-fabulous cosmopolitans, and the discovery that people are remarkably receptive to being "Peeped" (an activity which calls for an invasion of the opposition's huddle and bombing them with Peeps). I consumed my first Peep over the weekend. I found it slimy but pleasantly sugary. I don't know if I will make a habit of eating them, but they are not as vile as I initially imagined. The Peep theme came from the fact that all the teams had poultry-related team names. We chose that scion of chicken-shaped preservatives, the Peep. Peep Show went 3-3 this weekend, with an unfortunate loss to a really aggressively annoying team out of Indiana (Hoosierchicken). But a good time was had by all and I am infinitely grateful that I was allowed to crash the party.

The road trips involved in this tournament process were also a pretty good time. I rode up with Wooten and Jam and on the way back we added Gwinner. Turns out that Gwinner and I were in Belize together way back in '96. Small world. On the trip home we all stopped and ate at Rio the Santa Fe Grill where you can apparently purchase such delicacies as a fried chunk of pork and umm umm delicious onions, according to the menu, but you cannot make the waiter bring you coffee. Ah well. I had servicable ceviche on tortillas that made me angry. Along the way I took pictures of a Mini tricked out with airplane wings and a tail and this enormous stone Jesus outside of the Solid Rock Church. But I can't figure out the internet so they will not be posted. But take it from me, had you seen the pictures, your life would not have been the same.

So that's my weekend in a nutshell. Frisbee, chicken, road trip. Can you think of a more powerful triumvirate?

The Newest Addition to Our Family

2005-06-08T17:41:00.000-05:00

My Daddy Made Me Do It
Dad believes that since I blogged my brother, it's only fair to blog his car too. We are taking suggestions on the naming of the thing. My input is "Thelma." Now you.

The Dynasty

2005-06-08T10:53:00.000-05:00

Stephen Flying (he's the one in white)
My brother told me that I have to blog him. It's not really surprising that he wants a piece of the action. It's a fast-paced world of fun and excitement after all. My brother spends the majority of his time learning America's youth important life skills such as how to make a battery and how to identify the layers of the earth (apparently preparing them for their lives as MacGuyver). When Stephen is not shaping the young minds of tomorrow, he can usually be found punishing his body mercilessly on the ultimate field. This would be him doing just that. What he doesn't want you to know is that he did not get this D. But he looks great sucking, don't he? (Disclaimer: I do not now believe, nor have I ever believed, that my my brother sucks; please note, however, that while I might throw around the insults like so much confetti, if I ever hear even one of you say anything remotely negative about him, you will have to deal with me and my small, ineffectual fists.)

Oh Brother

2005-06-08T10:43:00.000-05:00

Stephen's sad face.

Girl Crush

2005-06-07T14:37:00.000-05:00

See? Gorgeous. Elyse during her ANTM days.
Please allow me to take this opportunity to blog my new profound crush on Elyse Sewell. Never have I encountered such a thing of beauty as this girl. And I'm not even gay. All people should read her blog and revel in it. How many things does this girl have to brag about? She's gorgeous, she's brilliant, she's unabashedly pretentious, she came in third on the first season of America's Next Top Model (which, I have on good authority, is about to be re-aired on UPN), she dates Marty of The Shins, she goes to Buenos Aires and has conversations in the street with The White Stripes. Need I go on? Gardner has threatened to arm wrestle me for her love but I think it would be more appropriate to have a karaoke-off. He thinks he's got it in the bag since I chickened out last week. Little does he know that I'm really hustling him. He'll let down his guard and then I'll let him have it!! Ha ha!!

The Title Character

2005-06-07T13:54:00.000-05:00

Moxielicious!
I felt I should give a shout out to my girl Moxie since she very obligingly let me use her name to foist my opinions on the unsuspecting masses. She asked me to tell everyone that the opinions expressed in this blog do not necessarily reflect those held by her or any other canines-wise-beyond-their-species.

What Would Faulkner Do?

2005-06-06T13:40:00.000-05:00

WWFD?
Oprah has announced that her Summer 2005 Book Club will comprise Faulkner's difficult yet beautiful books The Sound and the Fury, As I Lay Dying, and Light in August. Lucky for the multitudes, Oprah has chosen not to begin the assignment with The Sound and the Fury but with As I Lay Dying, a choice that, entertainingly, mimics the order in which I read Faulkner, beginning when I was fourteen. I am reminded of the many heated debates Christian and I engaged in during our long drives in the West regarding the importance of Faulkner (or lack thereof from one perspective). Will this truly mean a renaissance of Faulkner's popularity outside of Southern Literature classes? What will the average Oprah Book Club reader get out of The Sound and the Fury? Does this "average Oprah Book Club reader" actually exist? And what went into Ms. Winfrey's decision to revisit Yoknapatawpha County? I am just endlessly intrigued by this. I don't know why I should be. Oprah has not ever really shied away from chosing difficult books. She has variously chosen Anna Karenina, One Hundred Years of Solitude, and She's Come Undone (an intense read, if not exactly Tolstoy). So I'm not sure why the choice of Faulkner merited blogging, except to express my hope/fear that this could mean the emergence of an unlikely subculture of Faulkner enthusiasts.

This is Where We Hip Hip for Renna

2005-06-04T17:01:00.000-05:00

The Bastion of All Things Historic

Today I am celebrating the success of my friend Renna who has put one more notch on the bedpost of her career by getting an internship at the Georgia Historical Society!! Daily she will be put through the paces of archiving things and filing things and making sure that the important bits of information go down, properly indexed, into the annals of history. So let's hear it for Ren. Hip hip! Hip hip!

In related news, if you squint and tilt your head, you can see the law firm that rejected me just outside of the picture to the right. One day I will work for Renna and we will conveniently leave out any information regarding this law firm (which will remain nameless) from the aforementioned annals. Ha ha!

Vanity, Thy Name is Motorola

2005-06-03T18:49:00.000-05:00

Today I have purchased the next in a long line of gadgets that far exceed any sane need I experience on any kind of regular basis. The Motorola V710. Judge me if you must. All I know is I can now take surreptitious pictures of my friends in compromising positions and sell sell sell. Awesome. I can fully engage with Shawn in a battle of the embarassing pictures. It's great to be a contender. Of course, the acquisition of this particular piece of equipment brings some liberal guilt with it. In my happy place, my personal ethos doesn't mold itself well around decadent consumption and conspicuous status symbols. So I feel kind of hypocritical. This is, by far, the flashiest thing that I have ever purchased for myself. But, I rationalize in the following way: it gets way more than 20 miles to the gallon.

In other news, Gardner has come and gone, leaving a wide and turbulent wake of despair and anguish. I feel a bit perturbed by at least one incident from Gardner's stay. From the Flagpole:

"INDIE ROCK KARAOKE" (Go Bar) If you're sick of "Baby Got Back," wear your Chucks and come on by. Every Thursday, 10 p.m.

Now, I consider myself something of a party gal. I like to have fun, cut loose, or, as my friend Adam says entirely too often, "Hop on the good foot and do the bad thing" or something along those lines. So the idea of karaoke, per se, does not bother me. So imagine my chagrin (and the crushing blow to my vanity) when I realized that I had stage fright and would not be able to convince myself to sing (I was planning on a stirring rendition of "Fight Test" by the ever-inventive Flaming Lips). Oh! The ineffable desperation that I felt! Gardner had traveled all the way from the Left Coast to visit his peeps in Athens and what do I do when the moment of truth arrives? Chicken out. No bones about it. Need I point out the irony of my song choice?

Gardner, on the other hand, did his part to keep the party going. His delivery of "Debaser" by The Pixies was really quite stirring.

Rumination on a Theme

2005-06-02T11:01:00.000-05:00

Yeah he's The One. The HOT One!

Things I thought of while I was watching Kung Fu Hustle last night in the delightful company of Cathy Lee, Shanye, K Woo, Julie, Ricky Tse, and Tater:

1. I really really hate it when they don't reveal to the moviegoers that the guy they've been watching and ridiculing the whole movie is actually remarkably good looking. I didn't get a quality "Hubba Hubba" in until the last 10 minutes of the movie which makes for a very very cranky Amy.

2. I have no idea why the Georgia Theater insists on selling cans of PBR for a shocking $3.50. Think of this: you can buy a whole 12 pack of PBR bottles at the fabulous Mr. Lee's Package for approximately $9.00. If the jokers who run Georgia Theater ran the world I would be paying $42 for a 12 pack of cans. Because of this, here begins my official boycott of buying cans of PBR from the Georgia Theater. Join me in this crusade! We will show them they should sell their cans for $1.33! And when they do--when they finally bow to the pressure of the consuming masses--well, then, we'll buy their beer again! Ha ha!

3. On a lighter note, Kung Fu Hustle easily one of the best movies I've seen this year. I mean, Sahara isn't even in the same stratosphere (NB: that was sarcasm--in no way do I now or will I ever actually endorse watching that film). It had everything: love, fighting, humor, villains, heroes, lollipops. Truly marvelous. Drop what you are doing and watch it. Now.

4. What makes your ass fall asleep? Am I the only person this happens to?

2005-06-01T11:34:00.000-05:00

And the third contestant in the lookalike battle: Ethan Suplee!

For Comparison's Sake

2005-06-01T11:24:00.000-05:00

Granville, probably laughing at Strong Bad doing something. Or maybe this was the day we all laughed uproariously at the sheep beating it's head on a wooden crossbeam.

I need to know if anyone else in the world thinks Granville looks like Gardner. Let the voting commence.

2005-06-01T09:20:00.000-05:00

I stole this picture from the GLFC. This is Gardner in his adopted hometown of LA.

2005-06-01T09:06:00.000-05:00

Cathy is the hot one, top row, on the right with the pigtails.

Drink a Cup of Kindness

2005-06-01T08:33:00.000-05:00

I am spending my week seeing people whom I have neglected for far too long in my busy-but-not-that-busy life. The first person to reap the benefits of my newfound dedication to strengthening the ties that bind is Cathy Lee (see picture above). I think, though, and she might agree with me, that since the catching up could only occur if she came all the way to Athens from Boulder it's a bittersweet victory at best. Still, last night was spent in the company of friends w/ a few rounds of Maker's Mark and Blenheim's (best drink ever). I love seeing old friends. I go around all the time thinking I want to meet new people when I know that nothing compares to sitting around with people who know me better than I know myself and having them give me a great big ole dose of Get Over Yourself.

The second person to be caught up with this week will be Gardner (again, see above). Though, I must say, this victory too is bittersweet since he had to come all the way from Los Angeles to hang out at my house with Moxie 'n me. So I won't be winning any awards for Friend of the Year, but I can say that I'm glad I'm making an effort when the situation presents itself because you just never know when you'll get the chance again. Am I right? Am I right?

Salley Forth

2005-05-31T15:44:00.000-05:00

I have no idea why I have chosen to add my voice to the world wide din. Vanity. Boredom. I want to be like Gardner. Really I think it's because I need a reason not to work on my law journal write-on, the most vicious and painful of all torture devices. What could be the usefulness of forcing children just past their first year of law school to dig themselves further and further into the hole of exhaustion and despondency for the fake reason of weeding out good editors from bad? No reason other than glee. They are all gleeful. Law school: one great big erudite torture device.

Notwithstanding, enter the fray I have. I have no clear vision of the aim of this particular blog (I hate that word). I was lured in by the siren song of how easy it is to start your own blog. It'll most likely become some kind of un-inspired rant about all things law school since that is seriously the only thing going on in my meager existence. Perhaps for the fans I'll throw in the odd pop culture or current event reference. If I can figure out how to put pictures on here, I'll do that too, though I have had but a short and tumultuous relationship with technology so no promises.

Since it feels way too much like I'm talking to myself, I'm going to stop writing. Until next time.