Life Archives - Page 37 of 52

The problem with Gertrude

March 14, 2010

Kenneling Gertrude, my Rottweiler, has been a problem recently because she paws and flings herself against the kennel door until it opens.

I like to keep the rottweiler kenneled when I’m away because of her propensity to eat cellphones, and after a week of successful rottweiler escapes, I get the brilliant idea to secure the kennel door with my U-bike lock.

This, of course, is a disaster: 1/3 of the time the bike keeps her in the kennel, 1/3 of the time she escapes and the other 1/3 of the the time I come home to this:

Fail.

A few days ago, I find my Rottweiler half-hung with a pool of dog drool and hair on the carpet in front of the kennel:

Turns out that she really hurt herself when she got her head/collar stuck that day. I noticed puss and bleeding and skipped Friday morning’s bail hearing to take her to the vet.

I’m standing in the vet’s office with both dogs, thoroughly convinced that they are going to call the police. Gertrude had three wounds around her neck from rubbing her skin raw, but the worst part was when the vet tech looks down and says, “And she’s also missing a canine tooth.”

I am mortified. She ripped a tooth out while trying to escape from the kennel?! What the hell?

A hospital stay, sedation, antibiotics, and $509 later, she’s back home, looking decrepit:

She destroyed the plastic kennel, but Judd gave me a metal crate that he had from his prior dog.

The metal crate works and Gertrude doesn’t even try to escape anymore…probably because she doesn’t have that many teeth to spare.

How to get postal service

March 11, 2010

I’m walking the dogs when I run into my mailman:

Mailman: “Eek! Those are huge dogs! Makes a mailman wanna piss himself! Are they friendly?”
Me: “Oh, most of the time.”
Mailman: “Heh. Huge all the same. What apartment do you live in?”
Me: “53B.”
Mailman: “53B?”
Me: “Yes.”
Mailman: “I’ll make sure you get your mail on time then.”
Me: “So that’s how to get service!”

dogs / Take Three

The hand that feeds

March 8, 2010

I always release the dog treats a little before Harley bites down…

Now you know why.

The “treat” in that picture is a pig ear. They come in sacks of 20 at Wal-Mart and the dogs love them. And yes they are greasy and absolutely disgusting to handle.

Oh, and that mess of wires is the power-strip for my laptop and speakers. I’ve decided that the futon is a better study area than my desk, aesthetics be damned.

dogs / Judd / Take Three

Mud and drool

March 4, 2010

Dog time comes at a terrible price:

Luckily, Judd wore two shirts, and took the button-down off before letting the dogs use the other one as a kleenex. He’s a smart cookie.

Judd / Minneapolis-St. Paul / Take Three

The waiting game

March 3, 2010

It’s 5pm and I’m sitting in a Mexican-operated Italian restaurant on Lake Street.

A Spanish announcer rattles over the soccer game on the restaurant’s TV. The announcer’s voice isn’t as loud as the restaurant’s music: Tina Turner’s Greatest Hits. The front part of the restaurant was empty, but snickers came from the pool room.

So it was just me, Tina Turner, and the soccer commentator. Perfectly random.

The place was cute enough:

And a diet fail:

The waiter told me the special was the seafood-something-or-other. I figured that the burger wouldn’t make me sick. I was wrong, but it was delicious.

I was at the Mexican-Italian restaurant because I was waiting on TiresPlus to fix my flat tire.

This is the week of waiting. It took my Family Law professor 40 minutes to figure out how to work the VCR to show us a documentary. The school clinic had staffing issues so my 20 minute appointment took 2 hours, and getting a new tire took close to 3 hours.

These unexpected pauses are made much better by the crackberry, and I’m glad to have it. I have never been so caught up on email and tweets. I figure if I can do something mildly productive during my waiting time, even if it’s responding to emails or tweets, then it’s not time lost…or at least I can get a new high score on Brick Breaker.

dogs / Life / Minneapolis-St. Paul / unsolicited advice

Social Anxiety

March 1, 2010

The temperature is above freezing for once, so I decide to take the Rottweiler on her first run.

We reach the Lake of the Isles before I realize that Gertrude does not run, at all.

She trots for a few seconds and then plants her bum on the sidewalk like, “Oh, you think you can rush me, foo?”

I panic. I am stuck in a park, during the daytime, with a dog!
This is a disaster.

Walking in a dog in Minnesota is like wearing a red polo in a Target store: an invitation for harassment. Walking a dog feel like having a big sign across my chest: “I AM APPROACHABLE AND WILL LISTEN TO YOUR OVERSHARE!”

The cliché of “Minnesota Nice” is really a euphemism for “Minnesota Batshit-crazy.”

The constant conversation-starting and overshare¹ makes me feel like I walked into one huge group home. Strangers tell me about any dog they – or a friend – has owned, their AA meetings, their relatives’ social security checks, their children, juicy canker sores… it’s…just…terrible.

But I have a plan! I turn up my MP3 player so loud that everyone will know that I can’t hear them and then just avoid eye contact! Brilliant!

A few people actually wave and invade my personal space to get my attention, but I flash a curt smile and keep walking. The message is clear: “Sorry if I appeared approachable. I’m not. Bye now.”

The long dog walk was also a bit of a chore because the Rottweiler is so awkward. She dives into chest-deep snow banks and flails around as if she’s swimming. This is cute for exactly 12 minutes before I yank the leash and drag her home.

This Gertrude after she scaled a retaining wall:

What an awkward duckling. I think she suits me.

And my Minnesota-induced social anxiety is not limited to dog walks…

Edit: I wrote a rather lengthy post about the “crazy” I’ve encountered in Minneapolis, but I had some unexpected time to think due to internet problems and I decided that I was unfair.

Here are my findings of fact (what’s the point of a JD if I can’t inject legalese into blog posts?):

I live in the ghetto, so the crackhead prostitutes, police raids, shootings, drug dealers, and bodies on the street should not shock me at all.
Although getting cornered on the highway was pretty bad, most people (besides Lady Gaga) don’t wake up and say “Hey, I’m going to be socially inappropriate today!” and most people aren’t even aware they are socially inappropriate.

Heck, many of my now-regular readers thought this blog was socially inappropriate when I started law school. A flamboyant, non-anonymous law student? Blogging? Tweeting? What? Gasp. “That’s inappropriate!”

Not anymore. One year later, Huma and I aren’t shocking at all, are we? Watch us give fashion claws…

“Social appropriateness” is a safe, but also a surefire way to be bland. It’s just like how Kelly Clarkson sells, but we how really prefer Madonna, Gaga, and Beyonce.

My problem with my Minneapolis crazies is that I constantly feel harassed, but this may be the price of living downtown in any city.

At least I’m not bored.

¹ And before you go there, there’s a difference between a blog that YOU have to look up and someone randomly oversharing on the street to a complete stranger. And if you have a problem with my foursquare updates, I won’t be offended if you unadd me from facebook, dear.

Judd

Zombies, a lost blackberry, and the gushy stuff.

February 27, 2010

Last night I went on my third date with Judd.

We went to see “The Crazies” in Roseville because gory, apocalyptic zombies movies are totally appropriate for dates.

It’s like a gay club, minus the Abercrombie cologne.

There was a pack of girls behind us in the theater, so we got the stereotypical commentary – “OH GIRL! HE CRAZY!”

Word.

After the sheer terror movie, we went to Dinkytown to Pagoda. Pagoda is a pan-Asian restaurant and an old haunt from 1L year.

I usually loathe dinner dates. I fear being stuck at a table with awkward silence or even more awkward conversation. There is also the possibility that the guy will drop a deal breaker early on and make the rest of the dinner uncomfortable.
On our first date, we ate at the bar area of a Granite City, and the only awkward part was that one of my friends¹ just so happened to be at that very restaurant, at the bar, snickering.
There were no cameos last night and the conversation wasn’t forced or awkward. We lingered. At one point, I wanted to look someone up on google images and noticed that I didn’t have my blackberry. It was probably in my car…

There was also a wild bachelorette party going on in the back room of the restaurant, so our conversation had brief pauses for the random cheering, laughing, and singing coming from the walls.

We eventually left Pagoda and I noticed that my blackberry wasn’t in my car.

I left Judd in the car and went back to the restaurant. The blackberry wasn’t there. It wasn’t on the sidewalk…or in the car… this was strange, and a giant date-swagger fail.

After another fruitless search of the car, I went into the Jimmy John’s near the car:

Me: “Hi, I lost my blackberry outside. Did someone happen to turn it in?”
JJ Deliveryman: “Pfft. A blackberry? I would have pawned that shit already.”
Me: “Heh. Lovely. Have a good night.”

I drove Judd to his house, and he helped me to search the car one last time.

So of course the phone had fallen in between the seat and the center console, and it was still plugged into the charger. Epic fail. Judd is dating a bald blonde. You can call me Amber Rose.

¹Aka, the only law student with whom I discussed my upcoming date. He swears this was a coincidence. Right. And Alesha Dixon coincidentally looks like Beyonce.

dogs / Take Three

Pummeler

February 22, 2010

I think she’s being dramatic.

Harley’s unimpressed.

2L Spring / 2L Spring Summaries / Judd / Life

BWE 4-5: Dance-offs, dating, and misc. mess

February 21, 2010

Note: Best Week Ever posts are a summary of the previous week(s).

My weeks are too unusual and packed to cover two weeks in a “best week ever” summary post, so here are five snippets of the chaos…

Scene 1: The getaway driver.

I am in court observing a bail hearing. A scraggly woman approaches the stand and the judge sentences her to four years in prison. She was the getaway driver for her godson’s bank robbing spree and could have been sentenced to 20 years. She thanks the judge for the 4-year sentence, and gets hauled to the next county for sentencing on another robbery.

It is hard to complain about much after volunteering at the public defender’s office. My time in court is always a nice reminder that some people have real problems.

Scene 2: dance-off at Lush.

1 a.m. on Saturday. A group of us are near the dance floor at Lush Bar in Northeast Minneapolis. Adam Lambert’s queeny little brother, Glambert, is on the floor. Glambert points dramatically, flips his hair, and challenges a sassy, break-dancing lesbian to a dance-off.

Hot messitude ensues.

Glambert flails around, points, and flips his hair like Jeffree Star without the tattoos, or personality. Glambert goes on for a long time until his friend grabs him and tells him to stop being ignorant.

That is when the sassy lesbian leaves her group of annoyed-looking butch girls. Sassy slides onto the dance floor and launches into into a dramatic, stunt-filled break dance routine.

Glambert got served, but instead of clapping and going on with his life, Glambert proceeds to drop to the floor, open his legs…and… well, my friend Pechman described the scene the best: “That’s just embarrassing.”

Fail.

Scene 3: snot and authorities.

I was sick. It felt like someone filled my sinuses with bleach, but I was going to finish this moot court brief, headache and bleach be-damned.

I camped out at Wilde Roast and worked for close to five hours on revisions. Randy made a cameo and gave me a study break, but I eventually finished my brief and then raced to a copy shop for a blue brief cover.

I felt ridiculous paying for parking and trudging through the snow for a single colored copy of the cover of a pretend legal brief.

But whatever. If the Moot Rules of Appellate Procedure say blue cover, then they’ll get a blue cover. I’ve stop trying to make sense of my school’s requirements.

These past two weeks were full of trips to the Spyhouse, Starbucks, and Caffetto. I blame moot court and the tax code.

Scene 4: vogue!

I had a vogue battle with a Somali in St. Paul. Hilarity. That story is here.

Scene 5: the gumption.

The problem with dating in Minnesota is easily summed up: Pussyfooters.

Most guys simply drop equivocal hints that they want to go out on a date:

Pussyfooter: “I might want to get coffee. Someplace…somewhere…over the rainbow perhaps? You like coffee right? I like coffee…possibly, maybe…sometime…”
Pussyfooter: “I might be at this bar tonight. Possibly. Maybe. With friends. I’m not sure yet. Haven’t decided. Are you going out tonight? I might be…”
Pussyfooter: “I’m so bored. Thinking about doing something! Going out, maybe? Something. I mean, I may leave the house tonight… not having any plans or a life or anything makes this easy... So I might be up for something! With someone! Possibly! Maybe! What are you up to?”

They want me to ask them out. I have to make the plans because their fear of rejection limits them to pestering guys online.

And I refuse to go out with these guys beacuse I cannot be bothered to waste my time on self-conscious, timid guys. I’m not Dr. Phil, and don’t have the time to build a would-be suitor’s self esteem.

So how shocked was I when someone finally asked me out on a date? I had at least a dozen pussyfooters bothering me at the time, and this guy bowled them over and got the point.
He wasn’t quite my type based on his pictures, so of course he was attractive and interesting in person (seems to be a rule.) The date went well, and I am impressed.
I think Minnesota men might have redeemed themselves. Possibly, maybe.

Life

The Critic

February 19, 2010

Ugh. We can’t take him anywhere.

My parallel parking has never had a more severe critic.

My defense is that the roads are slick, so the cars are 4-feet from the real curb….and this makes it harder to mark somehow…and it’s dark…and, and, and, well, whatever. Wer schreibt, der bleibt.

on the record / overheard

Negligently Annoying.

February 19, 2010

I think Jill coined a new term.

Me: “So, Jack overheard ‘dresses inappropriately boy’ from Tax Law talk about what fashion disasters the other students are.”
Jill: “Oh my god! Really? Even after he wore a neon colored hat, skinny jeans, and man-Uggs yesterday?!”
Me: “Yep. But you know, I try not to judge because very few people are intentionally annoying.”
Jill: “Yes, but some people who are not intentionally annoying are still negligently annoying, and should know better, and should feel social pressure to pay more attention.”

Snaps, Jill. Snaps.

dogs / Take Three / video

Snow Romp

February 18, 2010

Winter walks are always entertaining:

Life

Dear Hairstylist

February 17, 2010

Dear Hairstylist, this is not a comment on my love for you:

And before you lecture me on how “everyone prefers Badu with a weave” just remember a few things:

Every few months I have an Amber Rose moment.
It’s winter, and I want to wear hats without my hair being compromised.
Tyra said that my look was “too commercial” and Tabitha agreed.
And your last haircut did kinda suck.

Xoxo,
– Baldy.

2L Spring / 2L Spring Summaries / Life / Minneapolis-St. Paul

Took the Night

February 14, 2010

It is 1 a.m. and we are at St. Paul’s Camp Bar. Eric and Curt are off another room, but I am on the dance floor because Beyonce’s “Video Phone” is playing. An over-cologned Ethiopian-Somali¹ guy watches me from the bar.

A remix of “Took the Night” comes on. The Somali and I exchange a look, he puts down his drink, and a full-scale vogue battle ensues.

I usually do not vogue at random bars, especially in St. Paul, but I just wasted a hour listening to a crappy cover band butcher top-40 hits. The band is on break, the video-Jockey is playing vogue music, and therefore boomkats are in order. The Somali agrees.

We give hands, dips, and duck walk as guys at the bar gawk on like “what kind of fuckery is this?” The battle lasts for the entire song. We then clear the dance floor and the cover band comes back on:

Surprisingly, our random vogue-off was not the hottest mess in St. Paul that night: earlier, at the Movie Bears Beer Bust, there was a 400-pound woman wearing black underwear, fish net stockings, and 3-sizes-too-small spiked heels.

Eric was so amused and wanted to pose near her, but I could not get a good shot of our Pussycat Doll because her friend blocked the view:

Normally, I would just ask the Pussycat Doll if she would pose with Eric, but she was ranting about how she didn’t understand why people were making fun of her, so I decided not to add any fuel to the drama-fire.

Last night’s beer bust was my first Movie Bears event. The club usually watches movies on Tuesdays, which is Trivia night, but they also watch horror movies on Fridays. It seems like a fun group, but I haven’t decided if I want to tack one more event onto my social calendar. Do I have time for this?

¹ This is actually accurate. I asked.

dogs / picture of the day

No choking

February 11, 2010

Eric isn’t choking her, really.

Life / TV

TV avoidance

February 10, 2010

Do you think Eric watches Glee?

I have not owned a TV since starting law school. The problem is that I turn on the TV and 12-hours later I’m all, “DID I JUST WATCH AN ENTIRE CYCLE OF NEXT TOP MODEL?”

dogs

Unwanted showers

February 9, 2010

So, I have a male dog. He marks. He even marks over my female dog’s business. Utterly unsurprising.

What is surprising is that he does not wait for her to finish before he starts marking!

…and much screaming and unnecessary winter-time dog bathing ensues. Ugh!

Life / Minneapolis-St. Paul

Zooey, Happy Hour & Zombies

February 6, 2010

It is 5pm. I don’t want to go out, but I have to.

I already RSVPed for the Outlaw happy hour and told people I would be there, so my presence is mandatory in that “don’t be flighty” sort of way.

I shower and have a sing-a-long with the dogs.

After I perform Hot Chip’s “take it in” and Beyonce’s “kitty kat” to a confused set of dogs, I feel ready.

I walk to my car and see a cloud of crows hovering over my Nissan ala B-horror movie. All that was missing was ominous music and a husky voice over: “This March, terror hits Minneapolis! Chainsaw Zombies II: The Reaping.”

This is the best picture I could manage to take with the blackberry before my fear of crow-crap and Chainsaw Zombies set in:

I arrive at the The Eagle without getting bludgeoned and make the rounds while avoiding the awkward eye-darting of law professors. I then join the mass of law and grad students in the video room and watch the… entertainment.

After a few hours of amusement and hot-messitude, Jeremy and I leave The Eagle on a mission to find contact-friendly eye drops. We eventually find the eye drops at a Target after rebuffing beggars at the downtown St. Paul SuperAmerica.

By the time we find the eye-drops we no longer want to slum it at St. Paul bars, so we zip back to Minneapolis and sit down at Palomino, swank skyway restaurant in downtown Minneapolis.

Our waitress at Palomino is a Zooey Deschanel lookalike but I resist the temptation to request a song with my margarita.

At a nearby table, a woman with a cute bob-cut tells Zooey about her fiancé. We are disappointed when the hair plugs/blazer-with-sneakers fiancé arrives.

Jeremy and I swap stories about the Saloon and watch the drug dealers on Hennepin from our-second story seats. There is rapid-fire talking, short pauses, wine, and greasy pizza.

We spend a few hours at the Saloon, accidentally dose the video bar in Jag, and then trek home without further incident or hint of chainsaw terror.

dogs / Take Three

The pileup

February 6, 2010

Getting the dogs to stay still with Nathan was a pain, but here was the best we could do:

The “couch with dogs” photograph is now mandatory for all of my guests. You’re on notice.

See also:

Life

Getting a Blackberry

February 4, 2010

The Sprint customer service rep chuckles and says, “If you were here any longer, we would give you a shirt and an IRA.”
I smile, but I am tired, irritated, and ready to defect to Verizon.

I spent about three hours in the Sprint store on the day Gertrude ate my phone. The plan was to pop up to the Roseville Sprint store during my lunch break, buy the phone, and drive back to school for Family Law.

I had insurance, so a replacement phone would only cost $50. How long could it take?
I make it to the store and a hunky Sprint customer service rep tells me that the $50 replacement plan includes an upgrade to a Blackberry.

I have never owned a phone with internet access before, so this is exciting! I can finally play foursquare! It’s a whole new world, and not in that scary-Alice-in-Wonderland, “What the hell is that cat?” sort of way.

Hunky leads me to the Blackberries and I feel like doing an Ashlee jig.

Two hours later, the Blackberry is not exciting anymore. I am STILL in the Sprint store and the hunky Sprint rep is no longer hunky. He is now short, balding, incompetent, and officially renamed “Hank.”

It takes Hank 20 minutes to realize that the first Blackberry he showed me (the $50 one) doesn’t work with my phone plan. Fail. Hank then convinces me to buy a generic-PDA, also $50, but subsequently realizes (oh, just kidding!) the generic-PDA is not in stock. Epic fail.

Finally, Hank suggests the Blackberry Tour, which is older than the first Blackberry he showed me, and $100 more expensive. I am tired, late for Family law, and just want to leave so I agree to the older, more expensive phone.

I then watch Hank spend a half hour trying to set up the Blackberry.

Hank gets frustrated and has to call a tech support line… then something still isn’t right so he calls them again… then the internet on the phone doesn’t work…and, and, and. The customer service at the Sprint store makes health care reform look like a scene from Crank.
Once we hit the two hour mark, Hank sends me off with the Blackberry. The internet doesn’t work yet, but he says it should magically pop-on at any moment. If not, then call him.
So after my Family Law class I call Hank because (surprise!) the internet does not work. Hank tells me how to refresh the phone’s settings, which doesn’t work, so I drive back to Roseville (which isn’t terribly close to school) and waste another hour watching yet another customer service rep fiddle with my overpriced-yet-not-working phone.

The new rep gets frustrated. He calls the Sprint tech support line. He fiddles with phone. Reboots it. Looks into the distance… and then finally gives up, reformats the phone, and it worked!

New Rep: “Sorry it took so long!”
Hank: “Yeah, you spent like all day here!”
Me: “Erm…I guess the bright side is that I missed rush hour…”

Right.

But I finally have a functioning Crackberry. Behold:

I barely know how to use it, but I like it. This is the start of something dangerous wonderful.