May 23, 2005


I know a few lawyers who have odd jobs on the side, but nothing like this.

Posted by Kitty at 02:21 PM | Comments (2)

May 21, 2005


I don't blawg too often (mostly because there are many, many others who are far better at it than I am, but also because I like to think about other shtuff when not working), but I do read entries of others who do. I'm usually just a lurker at those blogs, but after reading this post, all I can say is I love the practice of law, but amen my friend. Amen.

Archi-Sapper left town yesterday for the weekend (more military duty) so I'm a latch-key kitty for a couple of days. I started the weekend last night by going over to one of my partner's homes (estate is really more the word) for a party we had for our new batch of summer associates. I only stayed about an hour and a half -- long enough to meet all the kiddos, including my mentee who starts Monday, and have an excellent glass of wine.

Earlier that afternoon, I'd received a snarky e-mail from one of the associates who had spoken with the partner hosting the shindig, and it said dress was business casual (it made other comments that weren't nearly as funny as intended, so I'll spare you the details). Since yesterday was a designated jeans day at the office, I went home after work and changed into some slacks and a blouse that is more low-cut than I remembered (come to think of it, this blouse is always low-cut, and that never occurs to me until I'm wearing it out somewhere and catch someone staring). Anyway, I ended up in a conversation with one of my department's two department heads and he leaned in to ask me for some gossip, jumped back and said, "Christ! I can't talk to you -- I keep trying to look down your blouse!" I blocked his view with my purse and we were able to continue our conversation.

Other than that, the party was pretty uneventful. I was only asked by two spouses which law school I attend (inevitably, their lawyer-spouse would hear the comment and interject with something along the lines of, "Sweeeetie, she works with me. She's not a student," said in the overly condescending tone people reserve for three year olds and people they don't like. I wasn't offended -- I certainly don't mind looking younger than my age.)

I've almost finished my latest
(yes, it's 700+ pages, but don't be too impressed -- our book club is only asking people to read the first 200 pages). Once I do (some time tonight), I'm going to officially start my summer reading. One of the few things I didn't like about going to private schools growing up was that they always assigned summer reading, which left me less time to read the trash I had been waiting to read. It would've been better if they'd assigned more books I actually liked, but I knew that wasn't going to happen when the first summer read I had freshman year was
drivel. My summer reading this year will kick off with this book I've been dying to read. Unlike the President, there's not likely to be much controversy over whether I actually finished it (hat tip to the Rude Pundit for that story).

And now, after sleeping in all morning, I've gone on a search for some documents I need which are somewhere in our piling system. Of course, I haven't found them (and don't expect to any time soon), but have found: (1) lots of Hello Kitty stuff; (2) a gift certificate to my favorite local day spa that my firm gave me last year as a thank you for mentoring a summer associate (I'm definitely using that and soon), and (3) a mix cd I made in 2003 which is currently in the cd drive of my desktop. This weekend is shaping up, after all.

Current song: The Milkman of Human Kindness by Billy Bragg.

Posted by Kitty at 12:36 PM | Comments (2)

May 15, 2005


The next time I think it's a good idea to walk for six miles starting at 3:30 in the afternoon when I haven't eaten and haven't had any water (and didn't decide to bring water with me), someone needs to wrestle my Nike Air running shoe off my foot and beat me in the head with it. Seriously folks, I'm done. By the time I got home I looked like I'd been beaten, and with something more forceful than a running shoe. Yes, I will walk again, but next time I'm going to plan ahead.

Walking outside today in temps that were only in the high 80s makes me want to buy a treadmill even more than I already did. This whole exercising outdoors in the blazing heat thing is going to get much more difficult before it gets easier, so it might be time to start saving my pennies.

Posted by Kitty at 07:21 PM | Comments (1)

May 14, 2005

Sheer Dallas

This show is doing nothing for Dallas' image. Surprising. I would've guessed that a show featuring two guys who work in a hair salon (one openly gay, one who refuses to admit he's gay) who constantly bicker, interspersed with clips from an aging heavily breast-implanted real estate selling-floozy would've made Dallas look that much better.

Posted by Kitty at 12:45 PM | Comments (0)

May 11, 2005


I've said it before on this blog, but it bears repeating: I am scared to have children. I know I'm not the only person who feels this way, but I don't seem to have the same concerns that the rest of my married-but-childless friends have. I'm not worried about the finances (I'm sure I'll be broke the minute I go into labor, never to return to a positive cash flow until my children enter retirement age), nor the way my life will radically change (I've been through a lot, I think I can hack it) nor the fact that my carefree days of being without children will be over (I currently raise a dog with an attitude and a husband -- I'm no stranger to responsibility).

I'm worried because I never quite know what to do with children.

When I was growing up, one of my aunts married this guy named George. George was basically the playboy of the Western world -- he came from a wealthy family, went to school at some of the finest preparatory schools in the country, was quite handsome and didn't need to work since he had so much family money. He was busy gallivanting around (as far as I can tell, only the truly wealthy gallivant, the rest of us just wander around) and happy to date whomever he met until he met my aunt, fell in love and got married (only to get divorced seven years later, but that's the subject of my aunt's blog, not mine).

One summer I was in Houston visiting the happy couple and my aunt was.....well, she was elsewhere. I actually don't remember where she was at the time. Probably shopping. In any event, I was alone in their cavernous house with my uncle George. And George had no idea what to do with me. He tried asking me about school (and kids who are in grade school just love to talk about classes, so that went nowhere), gave me the grand tour of the house and basically tried to figure out what I wanted to do.

What I wanted to do was eat. I was the type of kid of was so skinny they looked like they were malnourished, yet I ate constantly. Couldn't get enough food. So, I told George I wanted something to eat. We wandered into the kitchen, and he flailed around like a fish on the deck of a boat and tried to find something for me to eat.

He disappeared in the pantry, and came up with a jar of olives. He turned around and looked at me, looked at the olives, realized he had mistaken me for a martini and returned to the pantry. He came back with a jar of crushed pineapple. Not wanting to be rude, I didn't ask what sort of dish he planned to whip up with the pineapples, and I couldn't recall the USDA's food pyramid well enough to quibble with his choices, anyway, so I let it go to see where he was going with this.

He opened the can with the can opener and handed me the open can with a fork. I stared at the can blankly. "What's this?" was all I could manage to ask. "It's pineapple! It's really good!" he replied, as if to convince me that pineapple was far tastier than I'd imagined. I looked at him and deadpanned, "George, I'm 10. I need more than pineapple."

To be fair, my aunt who married George used to babysit me by taking me to Gilley's Honky Tonk in Pasadena, Texas and sit me on the edge of the dance floor with a Shirley Temple while she danced the night away. I doubt she would've been up for any parenting awards, either.

So I know how George felt. He was a nice guy who meant well, he was just so far removed from children that he had no idea what to do when he was around one.

Fast forward to last weekend. Friday night was the lock-in for our church's high school youth group. Archi-Sapper had volunteered to chaperone the lock-in, which was from 8:00 p.m. until 8:00 a.m. I did not volunteer for this foolishness, because by 11:00 p.m. I'm usually sacked out. I can stay up for special occasions, but special occasions for me usually don't involve sitting in a dark, empty school, eating cold pizza and watching the children of the corn play video games and try to trash the place.

I did attend the beginning of the lock-in, and stayed until the point where they actually locked the doors. At that point I bailed, went out for a drink with a friend and then headed home.

Archi came home the next morning and crashed. When he woke up I asked him how things had gone. He said, "It was fine. There were some funny moments." I said, "Yeah? Like what?" He responded, "Well, one of the kids brought a DVD of a stand-up comedian and it was hilarious. But we were watching it with the kids, and I looked at the other chaperone and said, 'If Kitty were here, she would flip out. She would never let the kids watch this with all of this bad language.' The other chaperone said, 'Yeah.......Okay kids, we're turning this movie off!'"


In the end, I suppose George and I will be just fine.

Posted by Kitty at 08:31 PM | Comments (0)

May 08, 2005

T.V. Cheddar

1. Who's your favorite talk show host?
Bill Maher. Smart and funny.

2. Late night talk show?
See response to #1.

3. What's your favorite drama?
The Sopranos, hands down.

4. Favorite comedy?
Gilmore Girls in the "real actors" category. Family Guy in the cartoon category.

5. Least favorite show or genre?
Soap operas and sports.

6. Most unlikely show you like?
24. Archi-Sapper got me interested in this show and I really like it.

7. Most unlikely show you thought you'd like but really hate?
Sex and the City. I kept trying with this show, but I got nothing.

8. Worst reality show?
The Gastineau Girls. It's even worse than The Simple Life, if that's possible.

9. Best reality show (if it exists)?
I still love all of the Real World/Road Rules challenge shows.

10. Best tv innovation?
It isn't so much an innovation designed by t.v. manufacturers as by cable companies, but having a separate screen where you can see what's showing on every channel makes my lazy life that much easier.

11. Who's the hottest person on tv (take that as you will, sexiest, most famous, whatever)?
Jon Stewart, hands down.

12. Who's got a face for radio?
Paris Hilton.

13. What major news channel, if any, do you watch?
I don't.

14. Bill O'Reilly. Thoughts?

Posted by Kitty at 02:16 PM | Comments (0)

My Inner European

Your Inner European is French!

Smart and sophisticated.

You have the best of everything - at least, *you* think so.

Who's Your Inner European?

Posted by Kitty at 02:09 PM | Comments (0)

May 03, 2005

The New Zoo Revue

Good Lord.

The etiology of my mental illness is becoming increasingly clear to me. I'm at a hotel in the town where I've been in depositions all day. I turned on the t.v. when I got back in the room and flipped through the channels. I stumbled across an old rerun of a t.v. show I used to watch when I was growing up called The New Zoo Revue. I haven't seen this show in years, but when I was little, I loved it (almost as much as I loved the Gigglesnort Hotel). I watched hours of episodes of this show and remember getting really excited whenever I would find out it was on and I could watch it.

The show I'm watching right this minute involves the following scenario: a morbidly obese hippo, who is wearing what I am sad to report is a very unflattering dress, is singing off-key into a tin can (yeah, I don't get that, either) alongside a frog who is wearing a brown cable knit sweater with a large "F" on the front of it (in case you confused him with a toad, I guess), next to a real live woman who is wearing a baby blue dress with a hoop skirt and white go-go boots. They're singing this insidious song in front of a poorly painted backdrop, no doubt painted by folks in a criminal diversion program at a local community college.

I really wish I'd seen this show again before I started going to therapy. This explains a lot.

Posted by Kitty at 05:01 PM | Comments (1)