metro monday: the end of an era edition

i had faith, going into this morning's commute, that the orange line would give me something/one spectacular this morning, an appropriate send-off on the last metro monday in her overcrowded cars. i wasn't sure if i'd be graced with an outrageously dressed commuter (maybe the gentleman i saw at clyde's in chinatown this weekend lost a bet and had to show up to work wearing the cape and cod piece?) or if i'd get a repeat of last week's off-loading and horrendously crowded platform.

but really, nothing spectacular happened at all. a few people sitting on the left, yada yada. b and i got to sit next to each other, which is pretty remarkable. there wasn't even a comb-over. i saw no white purses. there was no one pushing over a pregnant lady in a rush to score a seat. i did see a guy wearing a red sox cap with his suit, but much like this year's world series, it was incredibly anti-climatic.

i've got nothing people. nothing but a little sadness that i'm leaving an apartment and a neighborhood i love ... and a little hope that my new above-ground commute will provide fresh material.

so this is it, orange line. it's been real.

oh for fuck's sake, cnn.com

i am consistently disappointed in you, cnn, much like a midwestern mother trying to pretend her children aren't adults and demanding that the holiday be Just The Way They've Always Been. but this, truly, has taken things in a whole new direction.

Martial arts TV star picks presidential candidate

chuck norris? CHUCK NORRIS?

how is chuck norris' endorsement in the presidential race even on the list of possible news stories that could be covered on your well-read website? how, how, how? has one of The Onion's writers snuck onto your staff? have you been hacked by the same person who got into ann coulter's website last week, or that chick from The Hills' myspace page? and does anyone believe she isn't behind that sex tape scandal? i really need to think that there is some logical explanation for the reporting of this completely irrelevant presidential endorsement. because i've always been under the impression that chuck norris' relevance in national politics was one of the signs of impending apocalypse. obviously, my biblical knowledge is impressive.

on the bright side, if this means that the political opinions of people who truly don't matter are going to be real news, i'm for hillary. please leave me a comment for a full interview and headshot. i'll be waiting.

metro monday: the It's Almost As If I Never Left Michigan edition

brown dress shoes that very closely resembled the dock shoes my dad used to wear up north: not awesome.

wrinkled, too snug, been-through-the-dryer-one-too-many-times khakis: not awesome.

woven leather black belt that obviously did not match aforementioned shoes: not awesome.

unironed white button-up shirt, rolled up to your elbows: not awesome.

camouflage NRA baseball hat with little images of guns actually scattered throughout the camouflage: awesome.

there's no place like home for the holidays ...

i was so proud of myself this year, managing to wholly circumvent the annual holiday fight - the one big fight b & i have each year about holiday plans, with each of our families breathing down our necks, angling for an extra hour here or there. this, i thought, was especially impressive given that we are going to michigan for both christmas and thanksgiving - a trip that we usually forgo in favor of a quiet day of gorging ourselves at home with a friend or two. (i'm thinking PIE-ATUS, jen!!) this year, i simply worked out the bulk of the logistics when b was halfway around the world in singapore, and told him the plans when he returned. unnecessary spike in blood pressure averted!

but did i really think that the fates would let me get off so easily? GOD i'm so naive sometimes.

i guess the appropriate backstory here is that the thanksgiving trip, the one which was at the core of yesterday's motherly freak-out (though, to be fair, there was a touch of christmas thrown in for good measure), is because my brother's leaving soon for a year in kuwait. which is markedly not awesome, but also ... not iraq. i received a motherly ultimatum a few months ago, young lady, if your brother is going overseas, you had better come home for thanksgiving, or ... or ... i don't know. i would have anyway, but nothing like a nice ultimatum to really make the trip seem like some quality family time will be had. planning with my sister-in-law about logistics, with some consultation from my mom, led us to the realization that thanksgiving at my brother's house on saturday was the best option. flights were booked, et cetera, et cetera. except no one told me my grandma booked a flight to come in on thursday,* and we also decided christmas at the brother's house was the best option given that a flight for b & i to grand rapids would have cost a kidney.

i knew that christmas thing wouldn't go over well, but when i told my mom that little gem this weekend, she had a mild freak-out, so i thought we were done.

until yesterday.

1. apparently it turns out that having the holidays at my brother's house, 80 miles from where my parents live, is not a decision rooted in convenience and maximizing time together, but in fact a direct reflection on how my parents house is actually not good enough for me;

2. i am a terrible daughter for keeping my mom out of the loop by not telling her (though i have email documentation to the opposite) that thanksgiving was at my brother's house; my ignorance about my grandmother's flight* is feigned and a reflection of how evil and selfish a daughter i am;

3. she is calling me right now and there's no way i'm answering;

4. this holiday season actually isn't about getting to spend as much time with my brother as possible; instead, it is about logging the yearly quota of hours physically at my parents' house;

5. i am insufferably selfish.

this thanksgiving is going to be the Best Ever!


*it actually turns out my grandma has not yet booked her flight. so i guess that whole thing about how i've ruined thanksgiving for everyone, including my grandmother!, was a little premature.

metro monday: the sleepy-head edition

only one of the three sleeping men this morning on the train was particularly interesting - the other two just looked like really weary travelers that had taken red eyes into dulles. this third fellow, though, he was quality. there was the snoring, which was great, and the sighs one expects to hear from a 2-year-old who has just started to fall asleep after an afternoon of hard play. there was the smacking of the lips as he started to come around - like i do when i wake up after having eaten an especially garlicky meal the night before, and the taste in my mouth the next morning is shocking.

for some reason the sound of the doors opening at courthouse shook him from his sleep, and he grabbed his duffle bag and bolted for the door. and i obviously took his seat, because that's how i roll. i guess courthouse wasn't his stop though, because he turned around, saw me in his seat, and sighed. i could see it in b's eyes: you took the sleeper's seat! but what was i supposed to do - ask him if he'd like it back to continue his nap? sorry charlie.

i admired his drive though. sleeper didn't need the seat. he nodded off again between rosslyn and foggy bottom, his head bobbing, brushing slightly against the shoulder of the taller man next to him. awkward.

i was tempted not to talk about this guy, despite the fact that the image of someone falling asleep standing up on the train (in a corduroy hawaiian shirt. did i not mention this? it was quality) is funny, right? but then, after we both detrained at foggy bottom, i saw him walk across the platform and get on a blue line train in the opposite direction. i'm not sure if he was riding the train to sleep (in which case i'm a total bitch) or if he just missed his transfer at rosslyn.

'm telling myself it was the latter.

an open letter to one-year-from-now s

dear s,

i hear that first year associates find themselves doing a number of fairly menial tasks: days of document review, maybe researching contract law in minnesota (again), and of course the document review. maybe you're in the middle of some massive document review right now, maybe you've just finished your third red bull, and maybe your head hurts and your fingers are covered in papercuts. maybe your blackberry won't stop buzzing.

i just wanted to take the time to remind you, future s, that back when you still answered phones and made copies to work your way through school, you couldn't wait to do those things. this s can't wait to have a little ounce of responsibility. this s can't wait to be able to take more than 30 minutes and 15 seconds for lunch, and not have to call ahead and apologize if public transportation is going to deliver her to the office at 9:03. this s can't wait to not share a cubicle and to be able to answer her personal cell between the hours of 9am and 5pm.

but most of all, this s can't wait to never, ever again be assigned the urgent, high priority task of unstapling seven small packets of paper and returning them to her supervisor.

although to be fair, future s, you and i both know how satisfying the supervisor's stomp was after he realized that the used staples from the urgently needed-to-be-unstapled packets were all piled neatly on top of those papers in his inbox.

there's something delicious about passive aggressiveness, and you just might miss it.

marble and wine (and private parts)

of all the cabs i took this summer, i managed to never find myself in one during rush hour. i'm not sure how that's possible, but sitting in the cab last night in rush hour, in a suit, en route to an event with a couple of lawyers at my firm - instead of sitting in class - i didn't mind the stop-and-go one bit. it gave me a great chance to observe the mass of humanity pouring from their buildings at 6pm. a man was sprinting down h street in a suit, his briefcase in one hand, his hair and suit coat catching the september breeze. he switched abruptly to a walk as he rounded 14th, and i couldn't help but look around to see if there was a film crew nearby. people don't seem to leave their offices alone. and there are a lot more porsches in this city than i realized.

the women's bar association event i was attending was in the lobby of some office building near metro center - and i can tell you with all certainty that it was a touch more magnificent than the tired lobby of my campus office building. the voices of a couple hundred female attorneys bounced around the stories of cool marble and the resulting rumble greeted me as i followed a pair of young, heeled attorneys through the revolving door. i'd barely found my nametag when i heard my name and saw a familiar partner waving me over. i fumbled with my nametag and shaking hands, and the gentleman with the crisp white wine stood next to me for a few seconds before i realized the glass was mine. as i was shuttled around from and introduced (a couple times, the partner slipped: this is s. she's one of our associates. gosh, i mean, she will be one of our associates next fall. then to me: i keep forgetting you're not already a lawyer!) to one group of smart, successful, smiling women to another - i could feel the grime of cubicles and micromanagement falling away.

the roar quieted as speeches began from a podium situated on a landing a story above the main lobby floor, perfectly blue tiffany bags casually strewn about, holding the awards. and at first i didn't really notice the statue just to the left of where the group of female judges were honored. but at some point, i really took a good look.

and that's when i noticed the penis.

three things:

1. at least it was pointing in the other direction;
2. i kept imagining this conversation, as one event organizer rushed into the office of another: oh my god! i just realized the statue in that lobby has a huge penis!; and
3. what exactly should i think about the fact that at an event where the female legal community was gathered to celebrate our collective advancements as a gender, a huge penis was lording over us all? because i kinda think it's hilarious.

metro monday: the It's September For God's Sake edition

i'm not going to lie. though i giggled a little when the woman got on the train this morning with the winter coat, i was not surprised. i've been here through enough falls to know that people overreact. only one winter coat on the first really-feels-like-fall morning is expected. overall, my fellow commuters, you were dressed very appropriately. it seems i'm not the only one who has been jonesing to pull cute blazers out from the back of my closet. i saw no fewer than 6 blazers that i nearly broke the commuter code of silence for, to inquire as to their stores of origin.

but my friends, what the hell is it with the white purses. still? really?! please stop.

the past two weeks, i have seen many of you wandering around with your white pants and white sandals (which, frankly, i don't think is really ever a good idea) and linen and white purses ... but it's been hot. so maybe, i kept thinking as i bit my tongue and refrained from glaring, you've all just forgotten that labor day has passed. maybe the heat got to your brains or something. but today, the grace period ends. today is a crisp fall day. you are wearing blazers and closed toe heels. i saw velvet and i saw corduroy.

and i saw them mixed with white purses.

this is not ok.

i implore of you, good citizens, to obey this - the simplest of all fashion rules. Do Not Wear White After Labor Day. and purses count.

live blog: my first interaction with the dc dmv

4:40 call general information number. english. option 1. listen to fairly short intro.

4:40 some random announcement about the website. did you know we have a website?! gasp! read: go to our fucking website you idiot. why are you even calling?

4:42 chipper fellow talking about registration requirements for living in the city. ok, got it. then tells me to return to the website for information. again. i get it. there's a website.

4:43 registration menu. i guess this is my first registration? got it. inspection. sure. has to pass. check. if it's leased yada yada. if you inherited from a dead person. blah blah. military. got it.

perhaps i should explain why i'm on the phone w/ dmv when we aren't moving for almost 2 months. i'm concerned that we'll pile up shitloads of -

4:46 they hung up on me. somehow i knew liveblogging would be a good idea.

4:46 call back. didn't press option 1 fast enough. hung up on me again. the problem with liveblogging.

4:47 spanish speaking people can't pay with credit cards over the phone? really? why is that? curious.

i'm going to see if i can get a person by not pressing any buttons.

while i'm waiting, i'm afraid that if we move and i have an out-of-state plate, we'll get a shitload of tickets.

4:48 pressed zero to get a human being. they're busy, however, and now i'm listening to pachabel's canon. i fucking hate pachabel's canon. for serious.

i'm hoping that if we can -

4:49 OH! oh. still busy. but i'm sure the next available agent will be with me as soon as possible.

i'm hoping that if we can get registration on the car before we move or right when we move, i can avoid tickets. or even a temporary permit, which they must have, would be great. however, my extensive -

4:50 still assisting other customers. next available. promise.

my extensive exploration of the dmv's website has uncovered no info about such temporary permit.

4:52 still busy. new music. i think it's vivaldi. thank god. the only thing worse than being on hold to talk to someone at the dmv is being on hold at the dmv and listening to pachabel. seriously. most annoying piece of classical music ever.

4:53 still assisting those other customers. who else could possibly be dumb enough to call the dmv and expect to speak to a human being?

4:54 just realized that they probably close at 5:00. OH! nope. still assisting other customers. there was a cruel, extra pause between the break in the trumpet concerto and the too-chipper announcement that no one is going to talk to me.

4:57 still nothing. tropical storm humberto, eh? that's a nice name for a storm. i like it.

4:59 i just realized i missed oprah on the one day of the week i get to watch. sure, i could dvr it, but that's not the same. it's the joy of being at home at 4:00 in the afternoon on a weekday that makes oprah so fulfilling. also, just cracked open a bottle of bell's oberon. have i mentioned you can get it on tap at the liberty tavern? you can. i love the liberty tavern. please go. for me.

5:03 zahara might have to have surgery? oh that poor girl. ps my mom never bought me a matching valentino (was it valentino?) purse when i was a kid. clearly, i was not loved. also, good thing my mom doesn't read this blog.

5:04 do you think if they stop taking calls at 5 they'll tell me? or will i just be stuck here listening to vivaldi?

5:07 i'm going back to the dmv website to see if i can figure this out.

5:11 still. on. hold. and i can't find anything on the website. hm. am beginning to think i might have to actually go to the dmv. which sucks, but i suspect will provide some pretty good material.

5:15 half through the oberon. i think i should always have a beer when i'm going to be on hold for a long time.

5:18 man this is a long trumpet concerto. i think they may have looped it to play twice. just noticed a typo in the original headline, which i have changed.

5:20 for some reason it seems like i heard a different woman's voice tell me to please hold. is that possible? now i'm wondering if someone at the dmv is just taking me off of hold, saying please hold blah blah blah, and then putting me back on hold.

5:24 going outside for a cigarette. apparently, being on hold with the dmv has become an excuse to pretend 5pm on a wednesday is actually 11pm on a saturday.

5:32 still on hold. have decided i'm only waiting 8 more minutes. one hour on hold is kinda my limit. even with the beer and cigarette. in the meantime, i think i need some chips and dip to get through the last few minutes.

5:43 ok that's it. i'm done. i'm out of beer, there is not very much (lite) french onion dip left anyway, holding my cell phone on my shoulder for this long is starting to hurt my neck, and i'm quite certain there isn't even anyone left at the dmv. or maybe they are there, staring at the blinking line, laughing at me. bastards.

so let me ask: does anyone know what happens when you move to the city and have to park on the street? can you get a temporary permit until your plates and tags arrive? surely i am not the first person from the commonwealth to venture across the potomac? jesus.

seriously?

the following announcement, or some variation thereof, has appeared at least a half dozen times since i started law school in 2005.

Law Association for Women Bake Sale - Wednesday!

a bake sale. the women lawyers association is having a bake sale.

apparently i go to law school in the 1950s.