Rants. Raves. Ridiculous.

How Clorox Strengthened My Relationship ... or, Why My Man-Pal Is Better Than Yours

2012-02-17T09:12:00.000-08:00

You know, I think I got a pretty good one, as far as menfolk go.

I twitted this picture on Valentine's Day.

John snuck into my house and arranged some BEAUTIFUL flowers, a sweet little bear and some chocolate on my coffee table (every cliche in the book, says he, but I like all these things, so I told him to shut up). He also poured me a glass of wine, and he bought me one of my favorite candles (the 3-wicks from BBW, I die) in a new flavor.

But that's not the best part.

I've been tearing my hair out because in the midst of study craziness, my house has fallen to crap. I'm a little OCD sometimes with things being neat and clean, but I hadn't had the time (between work and the hell that has become my life) to do anything.

So he cleaned my house.

...

Yeah.

Be jeal.

**********************

I had to work on Valentine's Day.

(kill me, it was terrible, but that's beside the point)

I'm not big on fighting to get into a restaurant with every other couple in America, so it wasn't really that big a deal for me to work.

However, my blond man-pal took me out for the very first time on February 15 of last year.

(awwwwww)

So we celebrated that instead.

We went to Crystal Bridges, the brand spankin' new super-amazing art museum.

Which I had been begging to go to for like, forever, and had convinced John that he was a terrible man-pal (okay, so I told him) for not taking me yet, then he up and took me. Whoops.

Anyway, it's pretty much the coolest place ever.

This was my favorite piece.

Because I love me some Dolly.

Of course we couldn't manage to take a picture together, which is unfortunate because I looked damn good (which is completely vain and ridiculous, but when you've spent the last two months in either a t-shirt that smells like seafood or fuzzy Snooki boots and leggings that haven't been washed in three days, getting your hair all did up and smelling nice is something to brag about).

But these are my pretty flowers now!

*********************

The play-by-play is really inconsequential when you think about it. I would have been happy doing anything to celebrate, so long as we were together. We could have fun at an insurance seminar. I seriously love that guy. He's a pretty good one, as far as smelly boys go. I'd do just about anything with him, and I'd be just fine.

********************

Dear John:

When you read that last part, don't take that to mean we don't ever have to do fancy things since we enjoy each other so much. Because if you interpret it that way, I will cut you BAD.

Love,

*********************

THAT'S love, folks.

Dress Up and Doctor Kits and DAMN IT ALL, Where Has My Morning Gone?? ... or, How I've Managed to Waste an Hour of My Day By Looking at My Favorite Old Toys

2012-02-15T07:56:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning and Facebooked with my coffee ('cause doesn't everyone have Facebook with their coffee?), and I notice my friend Mag posted a website of old toys, and now I'm banging my head against the wall over and over because I've been looking at them for like an hour and my coffee's cold.

Anyway.

They all remind me so much of my BFF Amber. Amber is Mag's older sister, and Mag is my sister's BFF.

(still with me?)

Here we are. So cute.

(I can't even talk about our obsession with Hello Kitty and the entire Sanrio line)

So between the four of us, I think we had 90% of everything this site mentioned.

Therefore, I give to you:

the toys of my youth.

(random - they span from years 2-12)

***********************

This was my first "stereo." I was so excited.

Old-school Happy Meal toys. I think my mom kept a big box full of these.

Games with the worst graphic EVERRRR. But we didn't care!

Dress'N'Dazzle had the prettiest dress up clothes out there.

POPPLES!!!!

Puppy Surprise ... which is now a little creepy.

I will STILL beat that ass in Super Mario.

The most intense few seconds of your young life.

FLEXIBLOCKS!!!!!

Flexiblocks Ad by a90sfan

BAM.

With an XL shirt, these were the jammies!

I don't even think I have to talk about how bitchin' the Speak and Spell was. Elliot could talk to aliens on it.

Happy Meal Halloween pails. YES MA'AM.

This is what Barling Elementary's Oregon Trail looked like.

SUCH a status piece, but they always made my arms red. Fashion over comfort, even at a young age.

One of my fave Barbies, even though the glitter made her hair stiff.

SIT'N'SPIN!!!

I loved this thing, but I always forgot the password.

I probably just pushed the ice cream button over and over.

I'm pretty sure I didn't have all the patience for this, but I sure do remember having one at my Memaw's house.

(Along with almost everything else on this list. God bless my Memaw.)

I think the stethoscope would show up like Elf on a Shelf throughout my parents' house until like, college.

Like a little ninja, that stethoscope.

OH. EM. GEE. Amber and our then-friend Cortney and I would play this over and over.

Seriously, the prettiest Barbie ever.

BARBIE FASHION PLATES.

I don't even need to say more. Except that I was convinced I could be the next Oscar de la Renta because I put together one mean pantsuit.

IT'S DAN! DAN'S MY MAN!

Okay, I'm not sure if anyone else grew up watching Pappyland, but if you didn't, he was like a Bob Ross for kids. He taught you how to make happy clouds. This occupied me, my sister, and the Nichols girls for an entire summer.

Ohhhhh, and Guts.

There's a Facebook group called "I Took Home A Piece of the Agro Crag," and I'm sooo stinkin' jealous that I can't be in it. Just like how I'm pissed Alan and Janet never sent me to Space Camp.

True Life: I Was a Mistreated Child.

In conclusion, kids these days suck with their Wiis and entitlement.

What about y'all? Did I miss any of your favorite toys?

Love The One You're WIth! ... or, Celebrate the Happy In Your Life

2012-02-14T10:11:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day is all about love.

And for a holiday about love, there sure are a lot of damn haters out there.

This is what I'll never understand about us women folk. We define ourselves in terms of men. In respect to whether we have love in our lives or not. Whether Cupid's arrow has struck us in the ass. And if we don't, we hate love and those who have found it, and we have no problem taking to social media to talk about how dumb Valentine's Day is.

That is so damn stupid.

And you better than that, baby!

This isn't about a Hallmark holiday, and it's not about a day that's intended to make every single woman feel like an outcast. It's about L-O-V-E. Love of all kinds.

So if you're attached this Valentine's Day, have a wonderful time with the one you love!

If you aren't attached, have a wonderful time with the ones you love. Hang out with your friends or chill by yourself. You should love both.

If no one is around to buy you flowers, buy some for yourself. You still deserve them, even if the right person hasn't come around to give them to you.

Happy Love Day!

Welcome, Y'all! ... or, Here's Some Stuff About Me, You Wanna Be My Friend Now?

2012-02-13T13:49:00.000-08:00

Why, herrow.

I decided to go join up with Miss Neelykins to find some new bloggy buddies ...

So for anyone who hasn't been 'round my neck of the woods, here's a quick summary!

I kind of write about everything. I envy the niche blogs. The mommy blogs, the fashion blogs, the legal blogs ... I'm the rand-o blog.

I've written about everything from dreams of finding Sasquatch riding a four-wheeler to getting my tongue stuck in a bottle to my stance on gay marriage (PRO-gay, by the way) to what I believe to breaking into my own house to my quest for my lost keys.

That pretty much sums me up.

I'm an almost-28 year old almost-lawyer (hopefully).

I take the Arkansas bar exam two weeks from tomorrow.

(That pretty much consumes my life right now.)

I've seen every episode of Roseanne at least three times.

LOVE that show.

I could live on sushi, peanut butter, and cherry tomatoes.

(And Mexican food. Duh.)

I think new toothbrushes and clean sheets are the best things in the whole world.

I have an awesome dog and boo.

They're both blond.

(See? Blond babies.)

My little sister is like my second mom.

She makes sure I've eaten and slept, and she sometimes gives me things like coffee mugs.

She's kind of the best.

Plus, she takes awkward Olan Mills pictures with me.

She has a husband that I call Brother.

He's not too bad either.

We have lots of fun together.

I honest-to-goodness think I hit the parent lottery.

And the Cousin lottery.

This is my soulmate/GBF Reed.

He lives in Dallas, and I miss him like crazy. He's my other half.

I've had the same group of close friends since I was little.

They're the best group of friends I could ever ask for.

I have a soft heart for puppy pals and can't resist picking up strays.

I'm 100% pro-gay marriage.

Partly because I believe it's a tremendous injustice to a wonderful group of people, partly because it makes America as a whole look like a bunch of hypocritical bigots, and partly because I think my GBF above deserves to be married if he wants to be.

I've never seen The Notebook.

I know, right?

I love to run.

I ran the NYC Marathon in November, and I reeeeally want to run a few more. Either the NYC again or the Chicago.

Every blog I post has two titles.

I started the first two like that, then it just became habit. Admittedly, it's hard to think of alternate titles sometimes. My mom tells me she doesn't get some of them.

I love being involved with the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation.

If you wanna know more, just email me! :)

I have a fabu kickball team.

We've had Thanksgiving dinner, Dirty Santas, and a Superbowl party, and now we're planning vacations and bowling leagues :)

I'm a HUUUUGE OU fan!!

Like, rabid. It can be sick at times.

...........................

Okay, that pretty much says it all.

Wanna go play at recess?

My Thoughts On My Current Trade ... or, Why Being "Just A Bartender" Is Just Fine

2012-02-10T08:24:00.000-08:00

If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, 'Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.'

(MLK Jr.)

*******************************

Often, I fall into the "I'm just a _______" trap. As though what I do doesn't matter. Like I should be doing more. Or what I do doesn't make any difference to people.

Case In Point:

I look young for my age, so usually people at the restaurant assume I'm an undergrad.

(God bless 'em.)

They ask if I'm in school, and I'll tell them I just graduated in December.

With what?, they ask.

A law degree.

*cringe*

And I'm a bartender.

*judgment*

They usually look at me strangely. Like I should be doing something "better." As though they're surprised that I work in a restaurant. Like I'm not trying.

I think maybe they don't understand that I have to PASS THE BAR before I can even try to be a big kid lawyer.

And it kind of gets me down at times.

I'll start to think about why I'm behind this bar, that maybe I should do something "better."

But you know what?

I'm a damned fine bartender.

And I don't think that any one profession is leaps and bounds above another. I might not be making the big bucks with benefits, and I might not be saving lives, but that doesn't mean that what I do doesn't have positive effects on the people around me.

As with any bar, there are people that come in every day and stay for a while. And they don't just come in for the Kilowatts and seafood. They come in because they get company and conversation. Just because I'm not yet protecting rainforests and immigrant babies doesn't mean that I'm not making a difference in someone's life. Because sometimes all someone needs is a smile and an ear, and I'm good at that. Being sheepish about being "just a bartender" degrades and belittles my capabilities and my talents.

Yeah, I'm the singing, dancing, law-degreeed bartender/waitress.

And I'm a GREAT one.

And I need to try harder to remember that.

Brain Stew ... or, It's Okay

2012-02-09T08:46:00.000-08:00

It's Okay ...

... to be within three weeks of the bar and not feel like I know any real lawz.

(that IS okay, right?)

... to infuse your healthy-ish banana bread with mini-Reese's cups. Whoops.

... to have jumped and leapt for joy with the 9th Circuit's decision that Prop 8 was unconstitutional. Yay gay!

... to not really have any good conversation topics with friends except for the bar.

(if you're my IRL friend: I. AM. SO. SORRY.)

... to have ignored my disastrous cooking blog. UNTIL NOW.

... to have a list of Pinterest craftiness to slaughter post-test.

(... like this. or this.)

... to be SO excited about ordering graduation announcements.

... to watch She's Having A Baby like, three times in a week. Whatever, if you don't cry at that birth scene with that AMAZING song, you're a cold-hearted cow. Watch it and try. Dare ya!

... to buy lots and lots of books at a time, even though you have lots and lots of books you still haven't read from the last time you bought lots and lots of books at a time.

... to want to play this game. Like, NOW.

... to watch this over and over. You know you want to.

... to procrastinate for fifteen minutes to figure out a blog post.

... to work parties at Powerhouse when you end up pouring 92 Patron shots and auto-grat them. They spent almost $700 on tequila alone.

... to listen to classical when you're all by yourself and dance a little.

Double eff, gotta go back to the studyz now.

Whoops ... or, How I Try To Make Up For My Prolonged Absence with Man Candy

2012-02-08T10:34:00.000-08:00

I know I've been kind of absent here lately, but I'm less than three weeks away from taking the bar and I'm having small flip outs here and there.

For now, I'll leave you with the most beautiful picture of the most beautiful man I've ever seen.

rawr.

YOU MEAN I'M GONNA STAY THIS COLOR?? ... or, It's Okay

2012-02-02T00:58:00.000-08:00

It's Okay ...

... to drink almost a whole bottle of wine to yourself.

... to think your own dog is better than everyone else's. (well, he is.)

... to L-O-V-E this picture.

... to be afraid to fail the bar, but legitimately believe I won't.

... to have shit my pants that I just figured out that I'll take the bar this month.

... to have forgotten that I'm a certified mediator. Whoops.

... to have made really, really good money these past few days.

... to have spent some of said money at the Hob-Lob on paint and flower pots and spring things and general Tom-Shittery that I don't really need and will ultimately be returned ...

... or maybe not.

... to straight-up feel like teddy bears and dogs can soothe all of your pain.

... to cry and demand the things you want.

... that the ending scene of Sister Act still gives me the shivers.

... to have listened to this song like, twenty times in the past few hours.

... to revisit pictures of your past once a week :)

... to be able to quote every line of The Jerk word for word.

... to have been born a poor black child.

Now go visit Miss Neely!

He's Coming For The Party??? ... or, Celebs Are Just Like Us: Emotionally Unstable

2012-01-31T09:48:00.000-08:00

If you haven't seen this, you need to. I seriously cried laughing in the lawbrary.

I think I like it so much because I've been extra emotional for the past few years(ish), and this completely seems like something I'd do.

Like the one time I had a crying attack for like, an hour because I wanted a capuchin monkey so badly.

...

I wish I was kidding.

How My Child Resembles Me ... or, A Mini-Fatty-Fatty-No-Friends In Action

2012-01-27T09:07:00.000-08:00

I think my dog and I are a lot alike.

We both have no problem eating things that have touched the floor.

We both have hair that gets out of control in the rain.

We both have selective listening.

We both like to hide under the covers.

We both look fabulous in the color red.

And we both eat a whole plate of cookies and then lay on the couch moaning.

But I'm not such an asshole about it. At least I share.

(lie)

The Girl Scout Cookie Diet ... or, It's Okay

2012-01-26T08:22:00.000-08:00

I have been a broke-ass blogger lately.

troof.

So I'm joining up with my sweet pal Neelykins!

It's Okay ...

... to never want to buy a book that a movie was made out of if the book features the actors on the cover instead of the original cover. (confused? whatev)

... to have written countless letters to the Quaker company about their discontinuing the Weight Control Banana Bread oatmeal. Because I'm a huge freak.

... to have once again embarked on the Baum Skinny 2012 diet, and then ordered ten boxes of Girl Scout cookies the same night.

... to have named a diet Baum Skinny after the skanks that wear next to nothing to watch Razorback baseball games (and the Razorback baseball stadium, duh). They're my inspiration, sans the herp and crazy eyes.

... to still buy little-kid Peanuts valentines for all of your friends!

... to still be figuring out what I want and don't want.

... to finally admit that I want to pay for a new blog design. I feel like it's reinvention without having to lop off my hair. Any ideas?

... to have cried laughing watching this (thank you Whitney at Everything Happens for a Reason)

Because I'm pretty sure I said one (or all) while residing in the LaLa.

... to hate the pins that show cool fingernail ideas. How do you bitches paint your own nails??

... to have laid on the couch all day yesterday with some unidentifiable snot-funk and slept and watched Gone With the Wind and not studied for the bar at allllll.

... that I've gotten really terrible about taking pictures. I plan on remedying that now!

... to be considering doing a vlog ... right?

However, it's super NOT okay to be as panicky as I am about the bar. Holy bananas. It's insane. I'll touch more on this later on, but I've gotta get this crazy anxiety in check.

Because Everyone Needs a Giggle ... or, What My Attempt At Poetry Might Look Like

2012-01-24T11:03:00.001-08:00

Good Things Come To Those Who Wait (Right??) ... or, More Troofisms

2012-01-21T08:58:00.001-08:00

The Inner Workings of My Insane Mind and Soul ... or, How a Tender Heart Forms a Demented Mind

2012-01-20T07:12:00.000-08:00

Confession: I have a tender heart.

Like, B-A-N-A-N-A-S tender.

If you judged me by the way I write (and let's be straight, I knowwww you totally do), you'd think I was kind of a hard ass. That I wouldn't really care about what was said or done to me and that things wouldn't really shake me.

But that just ain't the truth.

The truth is, I wear my heart on my sleeve. Hell, I wear my heart as a big, flashing Vegas Strip sign above my head. You can see every single emotion come and go through in my face. I'm just not good at hiding it.

I say this because when something hurts my feelings, it hurts for a long time. And it can be hard to get over. I mull it over for hours, trying to understand why. Usually, I can make it my fault. If I wouldn't have ________, they wouldn't have felt the need to say/do this and completely wreck my heart.

Stupid, right? But I know I'm not the only one that does it.

It's weird to be both sides of that coin. To be blunt and honest and out there on one side and completely destroyable on the other. I'm not sure if my out-there side developed as a defense mechanism to tender-heart-itis, or if it's just me, but it can be confusing as hell.

And this isn't just with romantic relationships. Basically, if you are someone I consider a friend, you can devastate me. That's the deal: the close ones are the only ones who can do it. If I don't know you, go fahk yourself if you think you're hurting my feelings, 'cause it's not happening.

Anyway, I tend to think of any scenario possible that would allow the person to not intentionally be hurting my feelings. Like, I bet they aren't purposefully doing this - there's got to be extenuating circumstances that I don't know, so that way, it's just silly for me to be sad!

Case Study:

I'll call or text, and if you don't respond for a long while, I'll wrack my brain trying to figure out why you'd hate me. And then I decide that you just can't hate me. You can't. I've thought of every possible scenario and I just don't know why you could possibly be mad at me.

What could it be?

HOLY SHIT.

You got hit by a bus and you're in a full-body cast and you can't even speak and no one knew to call meeeeee! Oh, bless your heart, I bet you've been trying to tell everyone to try to get ahold of me, like George was on Grey's and he was doing the 007 to Meredith but she didn't know until the end and then it was too late! Oh noooooo, why did I wait this long??

CALL THE HOSPITALS!!

Hmm, not in a full-body cast, you say?

My God, you're being held at gunpoint at a bank/gas station/courthouse/hospital! Don't try to be the hero, just give him the money and stay silent! PLEASE DON'T GET SHOT!!!!

Let me turn on the news!!

************

Yeahhh.

Have I mentioned that my tender heart is BFF with my appalling imagination?

My First Serious Blog of the New Year ... or, Why I Am Pro-Gay Marriage

2012-01-18T11:39:00.000-08:00

I'm making a bit of a foray from my typical light-hearted fodder today.

Disclaimer:
I blog about how much I love the gays a lot. A lot. And how pro-gay marriage I am. And while I realize I might be alienating some of my readers by being as vocal as I am, it is an issue that is near to my heart, and something that I want to continue to address. After all, it is my blog, something I call my own. Keep in mind, this is one opinion: mine. Just little ol' me. And while I'm certainly open to any other views, I'd like for them to be made as respectfully as I'm trying to make mine.

*******************

I saw this video yesterday, and it literally brought me to tears.

I realize this is an intensely heated debate because it strikes at everyone's own beliefs. At the burning center of the argument is each and every person's differing opinions on morality and what is right and wrong. The largest argument against gay marriage is that being gay is a sin, and that marriage, biblically-speaking, only exists between a man and a woman, and that allowing gays the right to marry will destroy the sanctity of marriage.

The sanctity of marriage. There are some who still view marriage as a sanctimonious action, but in great part, Americans as a whole see it as a reason to throw a party with someone we like. And if we can't make it work, hey! we can get out of it without even trying to make heads or tails of the problem. Marriage has come to mean very little to some people. Where is the sanctity of a 72-day marriage? Marriage no longer has to be a religious institution. You no longer have have to be married in a church, and you are not required to incorporate any element of spirituality into a service. Marriage can be as holy or as secular as you choose it to be. That said, with the divorce rate in America soaring well over 50%, I think the straights have done a pretty good job of destroying the sanctity of marriage on their own. I'm not even sure that there's much sanctity left for the gays to destroy.

I got most of my pre-adult churchin' in a Southern Baptist church. I can see the argument from both sides because I've heard it from both sides, and while I'm as pro-gay marriage as they come, I've tried to weigh the other end of the argument. As a Christian woman, I know there is a fine line to walk between the differing stances I've been taught.

Yes, the Book of Leviticus denounces homosexuality.

But did you know that the Bible also forbids eating pork, tattoos, women speaking in church, working on Sundays, and clipping your beard?

I'm not a biblical scholar, nor do I claim to be. But (again, in my humble opinion) I think that cherry-picking one verse to suit your cause without having any accountability to the rest of the Bible as a whole is outrageously irresponsible.

Like Minnesota representative Steve Simon asked:

"How many more gay people does God have to create before we ask ourselves whether or not God actually wants them around?"

If we're going to be singling out verses, I'd like for it to be Matthew 7:1.

Judge not, lest ye be judged.

I feel I have absolutely no stones to throw, as every single day I have to beg forgiveness from God for my own sins. I'm not in a position to tell anyone about the horrible nature of their sins when I can't even conquer my own. Not to say I can't be judge-y. I can. But I wholeheartedly try not to be.

Everyone is entitled to whatever belief you have regarding something as sensitive as spirituality and your own moral compass. I won't ever say that you can't have your own opinions.

HOWEVER.

Your personal beliefs on a certain type of lifestyle should have absolutely no bearing on the validity of their legal rights.

I was recently talking to someone about this issue, and I got a good, light-hearted ribbing. He actually asked me, "You're awfully hot for this issue ... thinking about swinging the other way?"

ba dum ching.

And while it was all in good fun, it got me to thinking. There are people that truly think in that manner. That you have to be a member of the group to join the fight. I don't think I have to be gay to know that people should be treated equally. I don't think I have to be African-American to know that racism is bad.

I don't have to be part of a suspect class being persecuted to know that it shouldn't happen.

Let me make this clear: I wasn't raised in a hugely liberal household. My parents weren't weed-smoking hippies who walked around naked and had hip, gay friends and painted idea-changing art and wrote beat poetry. I wasn't really exposed to homosexuality until later in life. This view of mine, as far as gay rights goes, was developed, not ingrained. My parents didn't set out to make me a crusader for the gays, nor do I consider myself to be one.

However, they taught me that I was no better than anyone else.

That I was to treat everyone with dignity and respect because they deserve no less. They taught me about the value of the human spirit, and that each and every one of us has something good to offer. They taught me that anything less than tolerance was unacceptable, and that love is always better than hate.

And in my opinion, this is the best lesson they could have given me.

In the shadow of the MLK holiday, it has been said that we have come a long way in the battle for civil rights, and in some respects, we have. But where we have cut off one head of the monster, another has grown in its place. We have made great, valiant strides toward equality for all, but there is still much to be done, and there are great things out there that are worth fighting for.

Love is a wonderful thing, no matter what shape, color or form it takes. It is something to be cherished and celebrated, not condemned or restricted. Regardless of gender or sex, love is always a precious gift.

My hope is that one day our children will look at those who have opposed gay marriage in the same way we look at people who still use the word "colored."

Be part of the solution. Be on the side of what is good and what is fair and what is just.

Stand up for equality.

Be on the right side of history.

DENIED ... or, What Happens When You Don't Talk About Flowers and Sunshine and Say Shit A Lot

2012-01-17T05:42:00.000-08:00

I got the best email EVER yesterday.

My friend Camille sends me a note that said she was trying to read le blog at work.

To no avail.

I am simply too smarmy and filthy for the Coca Cola Company.

Yesssssssss.

You know you've made it when you're NSFW.

Now who's up for some porn?

I Won't Give Up ... or, The Renewal of My Mraz Love

2012-01-12T07:37:00.000-08:00

WOW.

She May Seem Like Your Typical Selfish, Back-Stabbing Slut-Faced Ho-Bag, But In Reality, She's So Much More Than That ... or, The Mystery of Girl-On-Girl Hatred

2012-01-11T08:30:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer:

This post might make me sound like a real asshole. And I'm not. 95% of the time.

Despite everyone's reluctance to say it, the woman-on-woman hatred is perpetuated by one issue alone: jealousy. Either jealous of how well you do something, or how great you look while doing it. Simple fact, whether you want to own it or not.

(although some women have voices that could bend steel, and that makes me hate sometimes too)

No one likes to admit that other women are prettier, and it kills us even more to say we hate them for it. It doesn't kill us to hate them - oh, no - but we wouldn't ever admit it.

Of course, I googled it. Read this article if you want more insight.

I think a lot of women get woman-hate because not only are they pretty girls, they use the pretty to further themselves without any sort of merit. The girls that think they can get by on looks alone. And that is so stupid.

Typically, I'd be snide and say that this is the argument of ugly girls, the girls that can't use looks to get ahead, but I've had a little time to think about it.

Now, I'm certainly guilty of using an ass shake to further myself - I'm a bartender, for God's sake. If I didn't, I wouldn't make a living. I use my decently good looks to make the world move for me, but once I get a foot in the door, I can do the work. I use looks for opportunity, and I use smarts for skill.

So.

I bring up this topic because I just got bitchfaced judged in Panera.

Disclaimer, Numero Dos:

Let's just set something straight. I don't believe myself to be Heidi Klum. I think I'm decent-looking with some personality qualities that make me appear more attractive than I am at face value. In no way am I trying to say that anyone should be jealous of me.

But I don't know any other way to describe what just happened.

I walked into Panera in Asics, Nike running shorts and my NYC Marathon tech shirt. If I can finish my bar shit in time, my reward is going to be a good run. So I wanted to be ready. However, just in case I can't finish, I went ahead and did my 'hur this morning because J and I are having dinner with a friend tonight.

I'm being prepared for both scenarios. Just in cases.

Neck up, I look like a pretty girl. Neck down, I just look like a runner.

And two girls at a table on the left side just judged the absolute shit out of me.

Like, I walked in looking for a table, and these two straight STARED at me.

I'm pretty sure I haven't stolen their jobs or flirted with their boyfriends (given the bitchiness, I doubt there's a Mr. Right Now in their lives), so I assume it had to be me.

Apparently, the sight of me incites anger in tree trunk-legged women.

(ouch. did I say that?)

We're all three in workout clothes, and at the risk of sounding like a bitch (which I no longer care about), I look way better. Maybe you should try the Mediterranean egg white sandwich instead of shoving your face with sugar-glazed cinnamon rolls and fried animal fat shoved in a plastic casing.

(ok, I'll stop)

(maybe)

I thought maybe it was in my head until I got my Mediterranean egg white sandwich (see what I did there?) and was walking back to the double death stare. Which immediately turned into the lean and whisper.

WTF mate.

But then she turned around and told me that my hair was pretty, so it's almost like it never even happened.

Duh.

*******************

What are your thoughts on woman-on-woman hate?

Bitches, Hoes, and the American Dream ... or, Your Troofisms in Lyrics

2012-01-10T20:36:00.000-08:00

Troof.

Where are the bands like Van Morrison??

Anyone got suggestions?

Haven't Got A Girlfriend, Got a Stupid Haircut ... or, The Shearing of Lou Bear

2012-01-09T12:51:00.000-08:00

From baby ...

to big kid.

I love this dog.

However, he was getting a little too shaggy, so we went and got our first haircut!!

His bangs are a little queer, but it's okay.

His mama thinks he looks dapper.

Wedding vs. Marriage ... or, A Kardashian Kase Study

2012-01-08T14:28:00.000-08:00

I actually had a blog post written (kind of) (from like, ten months ago) about a marriage vs. wedding. How people seem to get so caught up in the party that they forget what they're doing. However, since this whole Kim Kardashian sham wedding crockery came about, I decided to go ahead and let loose.

Call me a bad person, but I'm judging: everyone knew that this marriage was bullshit from the beginning.

The Kardashians would sell their souls to the devil himself and let him suck their blood and eat their babies, so long as there was a TV crew present to capture it for the E! Network and they got a signed paycheck afterward. I'm completely convinced that they are totally devoid of any sort of moral or ethical character. I don't think any of those girls had a chance because their matriarch Kris is batshit out of her mind friggin' crazy. And money-hungry. And just legitimately insane.

They just viewed a marriage as an excuse to throw a party and get paid for doing it. Which is basically why they have money anyway. Girl got famous for a sex tape in which she let a dude pee on her, and now she pulls a $17 million paycheck for throwing a party that involved with her wearing white and saying some sappy shit to a tall dude.

That being said, they went through with it. They got married.

And once it got hard, they just gave up.

I doubt anyone told them that relationships aren't 50/50, they're 100/100. You give every single ounce of yourself to the other. When you focus on giving your other everything he needs, chances are, he'll do the same. They had to have known that with Tall Kid playing for New Jersey and Kim living in California, some changes were gonna be made. It looks like I was wrong. If you're divorcing after 72 days citing irreconcilable differences, you missed something huge.

HUGE.

No doubt, planning a wedding is fun. I got involved planning my sister's, and lest we forget, I was engaged once. I know it's cute to look at dresses and flowers and place settings and sample cake and have a bachelorette party, but at the end of the day - you're married.

You're legally bound to someone.

You throw a huge-ass party, everyone tells you how pretty you are, and then you are just married.

You should be striving for a fairytale marriage, not the fairytale wedding. Invest as much time and money in your marriage as you would in your wedding, if not ten times more. At the end of the day, the marriage is what you signed up for. Not the party.

I'm ranting.

This coming from a girl with a broken engagement and no husband, so what the hell do I know.

Oh, right. I knew enough not to get married for the wrong reasons.

And I'd much prefer my way than theirs.

Wham Bam ... or, Reason #25785 That Colbert Is On My Top Five

2012-01-07T12:43:00.000-08:00

Stop Being a Black-Out Drunk Who Loves Kim Kardashian ... or, Twenty Resolutions for Twenty-Somethings

2012-01-06T07:16:00.000-08:00

This will be the last of my New Years posts. Promises. But I came across this list of twenty resolutions for twenty-somethings, and it was too good not to share.

And I know that a lot of y'all already have yo' shit together, but I thought I'd go ahead and post it.

Just in cases.

Twenty Resolutions for Twenty-Somethings

one.

Before you status update, Tweet, Tumble or Instagram, pause and say to yourself, “is it entirely necessary that I share this morsel of thought with my entire social network?”and if the answer is not, “yes, I absolutely must,” then step away from the Internet.

two.

Know which candidate you’re going to vote for in the upcoming presidential election, and know why.

three.

Enough with the 14-day juice cleanses. If you want to lose a little weight quickly, eat less and exercise like crazy. If you want to lose a lot of weight slowly, do whatever Jennifer Hudson did.

four.

If you really like the person you’re hooking up with and would like them to be your boyfriend/ girlfriend, find a way to tell them, and hope for the best. If you don’t and wouldn’t, stop.

five.

Find a way to save approximately 300 dollars and spend it on a flight to see a friend or family member who lives far away.

six.

Please stop liking the Kardashians, all of them. It’s not helping anyone, least of all the Kardashians.

seven.

Spend less than or equal to the money you earn each month.

eight.

Wear clothes that fit you, especially to work.

nine.

Call someone on the phone at least once a week, and speak to him or her for at least ten minutes.

ten.

Start preparing now to get over the fact that Facebook is probably going to change again in six months. You’re not going to deactivate your account. You don’t know how.

eleven.

Wait 30 seconds before you look up a fact you can’t remember on your phone, and try to remember it using your brain. This is what the olden days were like.

twelve.

Replace one terrible reality show you’re currently watching with one wonderful scripted show currently available on television. Swap suggestion: Real Housewives of Anywhere for HBO’s Enlightened.

thirteen.

Try that food you think you don’t like but have never actually tried, unless it’s brussels sprouts. They really don’t need any more attention.

fourteen.

Cut one person out of your life who you truly do not like and add one person who you truly do. Note: not on Facebook, on Earth.

fifteen.

If you’re still blacking out regularly, you should stop.

sixteen.

Volunteer once over the next 90 days. You’ll feel really good about it, and probably end up volunteering again over the next 275.

seventeen.

Tell someone who you love that you love them on a more regular basis. To their face, not in a text.

eighteen.

Back up your entire online life onto an external hard drive, especially your photos.

nineteen.

Crap or get off the pot. This applies to whatever thing you’re not doing that you should just sack up and do already.

twenty.

And in the eternal words of Tom Haverford, "TREAT YOURSELF!"

All The Good-For-You Crap That I've Decided to Do Because The Year Changed ... or, The Proactive Resolutions That I Hope To Keep

2012-01-05T08:51:00.001-08:00

Here we go ...

one.

finish my second marathon.

Yes. I feel crazy enough to do a second. Maybe the Hogeye in Fayetteville in April.

Now that I have a jumping off point, I feel like I can do this one better. Like how you know you can lose some weight after you get on the scale. Once you see the number, you know where you need to go.

I'm convinced I can be a Kenyan on this one.

Whatever, haters.

two.

walk across the stage at law school graduation and not cry ~~and moon the crowd~~.

(and do it in Loubs)

This might be my favorite on the whole list. I started something. And I finished it.

WOW.

And then I'll be a lawyer.

three.

achieve the perfect body.

I kid, I kid.

(kind of)

I mean, that could be me.

But really, I'm more like this:

Troof.

In all seriousness, though, I'd just like to be a little healthier. I've loved running, and I want to make sure that I don't drop that because I start studying for the bar.

Plus, I need to eat my leafy greens. So I can be big and strong.

Oh, and for all the people who are pissing and moaning about soooo many people taking over my gym, I can't wait until February when they all leave ...

SHUT THE HELL UP.

People like you are the reason the normal, just-starting-out gym folks don't stick to a gym routine. Because they walk in and get judged. Instead of being an arrogant prick, throw them a smile. They have great intentions and a lot of motivation to make themselves healthy and fit and to stop America's weight problem in its tracks, and they just need a little bit of encouragement here and there. A simple smile can do wonders. Instead, you bitches choose instead to make them feel unwanted.

Moral: Don't be the gym asshole.

(bam)

four.

be the kind of person who can brighten everyone's day.

No lie, I'm kind of good at this sometimes. But I get so caught up in my own bullshit that I'll be a Debbie Downer, and I'm tired of that.

So I guess I'll just stop.

It's that easy, right?

five.

be the kind of person who can brighten my own day.

Ahhh, there's the kicker. Go back to my post of shit I want to stop doing in the new year, and you'll see this. Stop putting my own needs and wants on the back burner to be everything to everyone else.

That's the big one.

We shall see.

The Road I'll Travel ... or, Your First Bit of 2012 Troofisms

2012-01-04T19:27:00.000-08:00

What Not To Do In 2012 ... or, the Reverse Resolution List

2012-01-03T10:09:00.000-08:00

We're starting the New Years list a little differently this year.

Along with things that I should start doing in the New Year, there are things I want to STOP doing in 2012.

(and this could prove taxing)

My dad has said that it's as important to know what not to do and what you don't want as it is to know what to do and what you want, so I'm starting this year's list with the behaviors that should stop.

I've taken the liberty of highlighting the ones that will be particularly troublesome for me.

Thirty Things to STOP Doing in 2012

1. Stop spending time with the wrong people.

2. Stop running from your problems.

3. Stop lying to yourself.

4. Stop putting your own needs on the back burner.

5. Stop trying to become someone you're not.

6. Stop trying to hold onto the past.

7. Stop being scared to make a mistake.

8. Stop berating yourself for old mistakes.

9. Stop trying to buy happiness.

10. Stop exclusively looking to others for happiness.

11. Stop being idle.

12. Stop thinking you're not ready.

13. Stop getting involved in relationships for the wrong reasons.

14. Stop rejecting new relationships just because old ones didn't work.

15. Stop trying to compete against everyone else.

16. Stop being jealous of others.

17. Stop complaining and feeling sorry for yourself.

18. Stop holding grudges.

19. Stop letting others bring you down to their level.

20. Stop wasting your time explaining yourself to others.

21. Stop doing the same thing over and over without taking a break.

22. Stop overlooking the beauty of small moments.

23. Stop trying to make things perfect.

24. Stop following the path of least resistance.

25. Stop acting like everything is fine if it isn't.

26. Stop blaming others for your troubles.

27. Stop trying to be everything to everyone.

28. Stop worrying so much.

29. Stop focusing on what you don't want to happen.

30. Stop being ungrateful.

******************

Absolutely the hardest one: #8.

I continually hate myself for mistakes of my past, and I think it's about time to let 'em go.

Right?

My 2012 Book ... or, My Vague Resolutions (More Tomorrow)

2012-01-02T15:50:00.000-08:00

I will be kinder.

I will be happier.

I will be healthier.

I will be better.

(the end)

I'M ALIVE!!!!! ... or, Merry New Year, and My Resolution Is To Stop Being a Crappy Blogger

2012-01-01T07:40:00.000-08:00

I'm here.

BAM.

And I've decided that for 2012, my big change is going to be to blog something every day.

EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

This could prove taxing.

I have to go to work in thirty minutes, and I have wet hair, so today's will be a meeeee bit short. I'll do a Christmas recap tomorrow.

But what would starting out 2012 be if I didn't throw in my gay-loving first?

Fond Memories and Happy Trails ... or, I Carry It In My Heart

2011-12-22T09:49:00.000-08:00

Two years later, I still miss you, my sweet friend.

And I think about you all the time.

I hope you're showing my friend Kaitlin the ropes.

I wish so badly you were still around.

But for now, I'll settle for having you in my heart.

Until then.

Admitting When I'm Wrong Is Easy, Especially When It's About Godly, Blue-Eyed, Deep-Walleted Quarterbacks ... or, That One Time I Changed My Mind About Tim Tebow

2011-12-21T15:09:00.000-08:00

When Tim Tebow wore John 3:16 on his eye black to a game, over 92 million people looked that verse up on Google. That means over 92 million people heard the Gospel just because one man took a stand.

*********************

I admit it.

At one time, I flat-out hated Tim Tebow.

And that is just so dumb.

Admittedly, I think he had some people around him at Florida that pushed him to be almost a caricature of himself - an over-the-top version of who he really was, and that seemed off-putting to a lot of people.

When I'm wrong, I'm wrong.

And I was wrong.

I think a lot of my discomfort with Tebow came from how much my ex loved him.

(whoops)

However.

I now love him. I love his quiet demeanor and his humble thankfulness.

Looking at it from the other side, I can't understand why people hate him so much. Why we hate Tebow and support Paterno. If that's not a country full of misguided priorities, I don't know what is.

He is just a guy with the good sense to say thanks. Instead of taking his cue, we mock his faith.

And that says more about us than it does about him.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.

Mother Teresa

Sugar and Spice and Gloria Steinem ... or, Smart vs. Pretty

2011-12-19T10:20:00.000-08:00

I read an article a few days ago that got me to thinking. It basically says that instead of telling little girls how adorable they look, you should try to speak to them about current events and book reading.

Umm, okay.

Let's not get it twisted here. I'm in no way saying that little girls shouldn't be told that they are smart and funny and capable. I think that's great. But to imply that telling little girls that they're pretty somehow dumbs them down and leads them to believe that all they have to value themselves upon is looks is just damn stupid.

I'm a girl. And I like being told I look pretty.

I don't thrive on it, nor do I define myself by it.

And I never have.

Of course, my parents always did a bang-up job of praising me in a multitude of fashions. If I shagged a particularly hoppy grounder, Dad was the first one to tell me what a great second baseman I was. When I finished as the number one reader in the first grade, my mom was the first to tell me how smart I was.

To follow that article word for word is to live outside the scope of reality. Because as much as it may suck, we are a beauty-driven world. Your brains may get you the promotion, but your pretty smile got your foot in the door. To ignore that is to set your child up for a world of disappointment.

Then you end up with a kid like this.

And who wants that?

I think my problem with the article is that it is so polarizing. Smart or pretty. You can be one or the other. And that's just not the case.

I mean, look at me.

(I kid. Promises.)

But seriously, I think that to ignore the fact that little girls are inherently cute is dumb. Why not teach little girls that they can be absolutely everything? I want to tell my kids that if they can be whatever they want if they work for it. They can be smart and pretty and funny and sporty and bitchin.' They don't have to chose, nor do they have to be diced into categories. They can just be themselves, and they'll be amazing.

Oprah's Christmas List ... or, All I Want For Christmas Is Yoouu..... er, and Some Loubs

2011-12-18T10:57:00.000-08:00

I decided this year to include just about everything I could think of.

You know.

In case anyone needed any ideas.

The Lord is my Shepherd Necklace

Arkansas Necklace

Psalms Necklace

Pretty Infinity Ring

Pretty Turquoise KitchenAid Stand Mixer

Up!

(I don't know how I've managed not to collect this one yet, but I neeeeeed it)

Ash Destroyer Tall Boot

(GET ON MY FOOTSIES)

A pretty picture for my (hopefully) someday office

Oh, duh, and a few of these ...

Oh, right, and all of this ...

LV Speedy

Loubs for GRADUATION!

This amazeballs Canon Rebel

iPad

Manicure, pedicure, massage, wax, facial, BAM.

Oh, and if anyone would like to buy me a cheap-o, ugly Craigslist dresser, I'd like to refinish it.

kthxBYE!

Finals, Balls, and Baby Blurbaritos ... or, A Miscellany Monday

2011-12-12T10:14:00.000-08:00

[one]

My very last final EVERRRR is tomorrow morning.

(oh shit)

That just seems so strange. Naturally, I have an insane case of senior-itis (or whatever it is when it's law school-related), so I haven't really done too much for it. But it's open book, open note, so no worries, right? :)

[two]

So instead of studying for said final yesterday, I went Christmas shopping with my mom and sister. That was way better than Antitrust.

[three]

Have I mentioned how wonderfully awesome my Mama is? She stayed late at my house yesterday after I had to go to work and stocked my freezer :)

BEST MAMA EVER.

[four]

I've been working like a crazy person lately. Trying to make ends meet while studying for finals and getting ready for the bar is a little overwhelming. I may just say to hell with it all and pawn a kidney. If I had a baby, I'd black market the shit out of it.

But alas, I don't, so the kidney will have to do.

[five]

I cannot understand how my dog is the only one on the planet who is terrified of tennis balls. For real. I thought that was like second nature to a dog.

On a related Louie note, my poor little buddy also got his babyballs snipped on Thursday. He looked at me with pathetic hatred for a while, but I think he loves me again. He stayed with his Nana for a few days since the vet is in Fort Smith, and she healed his wounds with Sonic Junior Hamburgers.

I can't even imagine this woman with real grandbabies.

Ice Cream, Throwing Like a Girl and Your Father's Role as Superman ... or, Fifty Rules For Dads of Daughters

2011-12-10T22:14:00.000-08:00

No lie, I got all weepy like a little bambino reading this one. I take absolutely no credit for any of it (I think it came from this fella), but it was entirely too accurate and sweet and 100% dead-on not to share.

Be prepared. You'll cry.

Unless you have no soul.

**********************************

50 Rules For Dads of Daughters

1. Love her mom. Treat her mother with respect, honor, and a big heaping spoonful of public displays of affection. When she grows up, the odds are good she’ll fall in love with and marry someone who treats her much like you treated her mother. Good or bad, that’s just the way it is. I’d prefer good.

2. Always be there. Quality time doesn’t happen without quantity time. Hang out together for no other reason than just to be in each other’s presence. Be genuinely interested in the things that interest her. She needs her dad to be involved in her life at every stage. Don’t just sit idly by while she add years to her… add life to her years.

3. Save the day. She’ll grow up looking for a hero. It might as well be you. She’ll need you to come through for her over and over again throughout her life. Rise to the occasion. Red cape and blue tights optional.

4. Savor every moment you have together. Today she’s crawling around the house in diapers, tomorrow you’re handing her the keys to the car, and before you know it, you’re walking her down the aisle. Some day soon, hanging out with her old man won’t be the bees knees anymore. Life happens pretty fast. You better cherish it while you can.

5. Pray for her. Regularly. Passionately. Continually.

6. Buy her a glove and teach her to throw a baseball. Make her proud to throw like a girl… a girl with a wicked slider.

7. She will fight with her mother. Choose sides wisely.

8. Go ahead. Buy her those pearls.

9. Of course you look silly playing peek-a-boo. You should play anyway.

10. Enjoy the wonder of bath time.

11. There will come a day when she asks for a puppy. Don’t over think it. At least one time in her life, just say, “Yes.”

12. It’s never too early to start teaching her about money. She will still probably suck you dry as a teenager… and on her wedding day.

13. Make pancakes in the shape of her age for breakfast on her birthday. In a pinch, donuts with pink sprinkles and a candle will suffice.

14. Buy her a pair of Chucks as soon as she starts walking. She won’t always want to wear matching shoes with her old man.

Photo Credit :: Danielle Rocke Toews

15. Dance with her. Start when she’s a little girl or even when she’s a baby. Don’t wait ‘til her wedding day.

16. Take her fishing. She will probably squirm more than the worm on your hook. That’s OK.

17. Learn to say no. She may pitch a fit today, but someday you’ll both be glad you stuck to your guns.

18. Tell her she’s beautiful. Say it over and over again. Someday an animated movie or “beauty” magazine will try to convince her otherwise.

19. Teach her to change a flat. A tire without air need not be a major panic inducing event in her life. She’ll still call you crying the first time it happens.

20. Take her camping. Immerse her in the great outdoors. Watch her eyes fill with wonder the first time she sees the beauty of wide open spaces. Leave the iPod at home.

21. Let her hold the wheel. She will always remember when daddy let her drive.

22. She’s as smart as any boy. Make sure she knows that.

23. When she learns to give kisses, she will want to plant them all over your face. Encourage this practice.

24. Knowing how to eat sunflower seeds correctly will not help her get into a good college. Teach her anyway.

25. Letting her ride on your shoulders is pure magic. Do it now while you have a strong back and she’s still tiny.

26. It is in her nature to make music. It’s up to you to introduce her to the joy of socks on a wooden floor.

27. If there’s a splash park near your home, take her there often. She will be drawn to the water like a duck to a puddle.

28. She will eagerly await your return home from work in the evenings. Don’t be late.

29. If her mom enrolls her in swim lessons, make sure you get in the pool too. Don’t be intimidated if there are no other dads there. It’s their loss.

30. Never miss her birthday. In ten years she won’t remember the present you gave her. She will remember if you weren’t there.

31. Teach her to roller skate. Watch her confidence soar.

32. Let her roll around in the grass. It’s good for her soul. It’s not bad for yours either.

33. Take her swimsuit shopping. Don’t be afraid to veto some of her choices, but resist the urge to buy her full-body beach pajamas.

34. Somewhere between the time she turns three and her sixth birthday, the odds are good that she will ask you to marry her. Let her down gently.

35. She’ll probably want to crawl in bed with you after a nightmare. This is a good thing.

36. Few things in life are more comforting to a crying little girl than her father’s hand. Never forget this.

37. Introduce her to the swings at your local park. She’ll squeal for you to push her higher and faster. Her definition of “higher and faster” is probably not the same as yours. Keep that in mind.

38. When she’s a bit older, your definition of higher and faster will be a lot closer to hers. When that day comes, go ahead… give it all you’ve got.

39. Holding her upside down by the legs while she giggles and screams uncontrollably is great for your biceps. WARNING: She has no concept of muscle fatigue.

40. She might ask you to buy her a pony on her birthday. Unless you live on a farm, do not buy her a pony on her birthday. It’s OK to rent one though.

41. Take it easy on the presents for her birthday and Christmas. Instead, give her the gift of experiences you can share together.

42. Let her know she can always come home. No matter what.

43. Remember, just like a butterfly, she too will spread her wings and fly some day. Enjoy her caterpillar years.

44. Write her a handwritten letter every year on her birthday. Give them to her when she goes off to college, becomes a mother herself, or when you think she needs them most.

45. Learn to trust her. Gradually give her more freedom as she gets older. She will rise to the expectations you set for her.

46. When in doubt, trust your heart. She already does.

47. When your teenage daughter is upset, learning when to engage and when to back off will add years to YOUR life. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

48. Ice cream covers over a multitude of sins. Know her favorite flavor.

49. This day is coming soon. There’s nothing you can do to be ready for it. The sooner you accept this fact, the easier it will be.

50. Today she’s walking down the driveway to get on the school bus. Tomorrow she’s going off to college. Don’t blink.

I Could Be Ellie! ... or, Why the Expectations of a Disney-Style Love Story Aren't Completely Out of Reach

2011-12-07T09:54:00.000-08:00

(I hope I haven't offended my Twilight-loving readers, but this is so ridiculously true.)

I Got Some Thinkz ... or, The Procrastination Monster Strikes Again

2011-12-04T07:37:00.000-08:00

In honor of it being finals week, I decided to talk about what I'm thinking - thinking in terms of anything-but-school thinking. That's what makes me feel better about procrastinating. I'm thinking.

The irony is not lost on me.

Yeah, whatever.

********************

I think that the impending bit of snow flurries will cause my Wal-Mart to sell out of milk, bread and beer again. Total freshman move (outside of the beer, of course).

I think that learning to play Sudoku the week before finals was a terrible idea.

I think every girl deserves this on her wedding day.

I think that I really miss Louie being a baby.

I think that someone needs to give me a job STAT.

I think that living on booze, Oreos and the occasional baked potato is more than fine.

(I think I need to get my ass back in the gym.)

I think I better learn Remedies now.

If I Could Do It Again, I'd Do It The Same ... or, The Meaningless Warnings I Could Give the Babies of Law

2011-12-01T10:49:00.000-08:00

Two posts in one day. WHAT?

Truth: I wrote this yesterday. And considering today is my last real day of school, I thought it appropriate to post it now.

Yeah, I know. It's another random letter.

Whatev.

************************

To The Twenty-Four Year Old Kid Whose Been Wandering:

You’ve spent the past few years as a nomad. In fact, you’ve recently returned from a months-long stint California. You’re in a post-Hollywood culture shock. You’ve spent one week back in Arkansas, and you aren’t entirely sure what you’ll do next. Part of you thinks you’ll hang around for a few weeks and re-route yourself to Chicago. Or maybe New York. At this point, it doesn’t really matter. You’re slightly inclined to just throw a dart at a United States map. Unless the dart hits Idaho. Then you’ll probably try again. You just know that you aren’t staying in Arkansas for long. You’re here for a quick layover, and then you’re back out the door.

I hate to break it to you, kid, but you won’t make it back out the door. Not right now. In fact, you’ll end up doing something you’ve thought about for years and years, but never actually imagined doing: you’ll decide to go to law school.

Yeah, I know. I know. More school makes you want to hang yourself with your shoelaces. You said on the day you finished your decades-long undergraduate studies that you were done with school. Never again having the nightmares about showing up for a final for a class you forgot you were enrolled in. One night at home, though, you’ll have a come-to-Jesus with yourself about what you should be doing. You won’t understand why you’re compelled to finally try to go the law route, but you’ll do it anyway.

You’ll think that shelling out a small fortune for the LSAT prep class is ridiculous. You’ll surprise yourself, though, because once you get to class, you’ll realize that you had forgotten how much you love learning. You’ll be embarrassed admitting that to yourself, but you’ve always been a good student, even when you didn’t want to try. And that’s what motivates you to do well on the LSAT – trying hard and making it happen.

The LSAT will come and go. You’ll actually take it twice, which would classify you as a gunner in law school terminology. Like everything else in your life, you set a goal for yourself, and when you didn’t meet that goal, you tried again. You became dead-set and determined to conquer that stupid test. And you did. However, please don’t think that this test in any way prepares you for what law school will be like. It really doesn’t. Just like how law school doesn’t really prepare you for working in the legal world. It will give you a foundation, but you’re going to have to work your tail off to build on that foundation. The LSAT gave you a new way of thinking. Now you’ll have to put it to good use.

When you get your acceptance letter from Arkansas, your mother will cry. You’ll poke fun at her. But once you’re alone and out of sight, you’ll cry, too. Because you’ve managed to put into motion a chain of events that you won’t completely grasp yet – but you know the significance of the journey you’ll soon begin. At that moment, you’ll start to understand that when you’re completely determined to accomplish something, you’ll work tirelessly until you’re there. That will be a characteristic that you’ll use repeatedly through the next few years. You never knew how hard you could work until you had to, and that feeling of accomplishment will give you a sense of pride like you have never felt in your life. You’ve done it. You got into law school.

With this being said, let me give you a little advice about the law school experience from a seasoned veteran. Let me impart my wisdom upon you. Allow me give you a glimpse into your future. Imagine a third-year law student, nearing finals in December, sitting at a table in the back of the library. Prepare yourself. This is where you will be.

You will always have a problem focusing in the library. This will be nothing new. With the huddled masses of over-caffeinated law students looking as though they were on the brink of suicide mixed with the whispering undergrad girls in Greek letters labeling a diagram of the human body, the library post-Thanksgiving will never be a serene place to get anything remotely productive accomplished. Even so, though, looking around in during finals of your third year, this time your inability to work will seem different. Experience has shown that you have to have a fire lit under your hide to get anything accomplished (you know this already), but even so, you will know that this isn’t the case. Not this time. Not now.

Because right now, you’ll just be taking it all in. Maybe it’s because you now suddenly have a greater respect for where you are. What you have done. Who you have become. And looking back at where you started, you can’t believe you’ve finally made it here. Glancing around at the tables full of first-year students, painstakingly attempting to memorize each and every word of their Contracts notes, you can almost manage a smile. And you’ll remember it all so well …

From the beginning, you had struggled. And struggled hard. From being a little bit older than everyone else to starting with your overachieving brother-in-law, you were intimidated before you ever stepped foot in the building. Sure, you had the grades (sort of) and the LSAT score, but the confidence – where had that gone? Somewhere between traveling the country and touring the school, every ounce of the confidence you once held so dear departed your once-unshakeable persona, and the timid girl in front of you was almost unrecognizable.

Being set up to compete with each and every one of your new friends was an experience in itself. It wasn’t that you were a stranger to competition – in fact, you were one of the more competitive people you could think of. Casual games of gin rummy and Nintendo duels often became a winner-take-all event (and damn it, you’d be the winner taking all) – but this kind of competition wasn’t like that. In every other competition you could remember, there were guidelines by which the players would abide, procedures to follow, a certain set of gentlemen’s rules that governed the game. The classroom law became a survival of the fittest contest. Kill or be killed. And for as seasoned in the world as you thought you were, you will quickly learn that you were naïve in thinking that your classmates wouldn’t cut your throat to get a leg up. You made jokes to your parents and non-law school friends (who were often referred to as “regular friends”) about how school was a live-action, real-life production of “Lord of the Flies.” But you were only half joking. Or maybe you weren’t really joking at all.

From day one, you’ll try to be smart about who you choose to let in as a friend. You’ll quickly learn not to trust anyone any farther than you could throw them. You’ll start guarding your heart and your soul more than you ever have. If you wonder why, see above. Certain people will use anything and everything they can to try to get ahead, and that includes exploiting your personal problems. People that you held very close to you will eventually become a faded memory. Friendships will end up lasting a season when you thought they would last a lifetime. I’m sure you’ll find that hard to believe now, but trust me. It happens. You will, however, meet people that are genuine. And good. And will brighten your darkest of days with their optimism and laughter. You will be so, so thankful for this for the rest of your life.

You’ve probably already heard the horror stories about how law school can destroy romantic relationships. The term “law school widow” will give you a lot to laugh about right now, mainly because you’ve never really seen it in context. Don’t laugh too loudly, though, little one, because you will soon fall into that devastating statistical group. That boy who you are so convinced right now is absolute heaven on earth is the devil in disguise, and you’ll start to see that once you have to spend so much time focusing on school. He’ll become resentful of your time away and of your new friends, and he will guilt you into thinking that you’re always doing something wrong. You’ll try so hard and so desperately to make everything work, but you eventually learn that sometimes, it’s best to just let things go. In the next few years, you’ll learn not only what you desire in a mate, but also what you won’t stand for, and the latter is arguably more important. And not to sound trite, but you can thank your schooling for that. Because if you had never gone, you would have never known how self-reliant and independent you could be, and that no one needs to take care of you, because you’re damn-well able to do it yourself. You’ll learn that while you should be able to rely on your significant other, you can always rely on yourself.

Oh, and that “small fortune” you shelled out for the LSAT prep class? If you only knew what was to come. Three years and almost $75,000 later, you’ll think that the $1000 you paid for that prep class was pocket change.

Don’t think that your years in law school will be horrific. I realize that I’ve been giving you the cold, hard facts, but there is much to love about your education. You’ll find subjects you enjoy and professors you adore. It took me two full years to figure out what I wanted to do with a law degree, and I’m more passionate about that area of the law now that I ever thought I would be. Figuring out what you love is such an exciting process. For years, I searched and searched for work to complete with passion, and it took me only a few days of juvenile work to know that I was not only good at it, but so, so in love with it. John Wesley said, “Catch on fire with enthusiasm, and people will come from miles around to watch you burn.” Nothing could possibly be truer. Finding a profession that you love is God’s gift to you. Never forget the feeling you get when you find it.

Prepare yourself, little girl. Nothing you have encountered thus far will adequately equip you to handle the onslaught of work and emotion you’ll soon experience. Everything that you thought you knew about yourself will be tested and tried, and you’ll learn more about your personality and character in the next three years than you have in your previous twenty-four.

I know you’re rolling your eyes right now. And that’s okay. I expected you to. Because at 24, that’s the standard reaction to receiving advice. Because you automatically assume that the giver is condescending, and that they think they know sooo much more than you, and damn it, no one knows more than you do. I know this is what you’re thinking.

I know this because I’m you.

I’m the third-year law student, nearing finals in December, sitting at a table in the back of the library.

And I’m one day away from being finished with law school.

Not to ruin the ending or anything, but you make it through. Not only do you survive, you’ve managed to thrive. You’ve made it through jungle law. You’ve dealt with the day-to-day drama, the mind games and the bullshit. You’ve made it to right here. You’re in a place that you never really imagined you’d be. Twenty-four hours away from never being in a law school classroom again.

And that is going to scare the hell out of you.

And that’s okay, too.

Right now, you’re staring at a big future, one of complete uncertainty. You will see your path, but you won’t know where it leads. Not knowing where you’re going is what will inspire you to travel it. You’ve always been equipped to thrive. You’ve always had the tools to succeed. It just took a few years of being pushed to the brink of madness to see it.

Congratulations, little wanderer. You’ve made it. You’re getting ready to graduate on to being a grown-up. You’ve made it out alive. And I’m so, so proud of us.

Love,

Tyler

It's The End of the World As We Know It ... or, A Blogger's Take On Her Last Day of Hard School Classes

2011-12-01T08:35:00.000-08:00

If anyone has followed me from the very beginning (I don't know why you would have because I was a little more hit-or-miss in the early days, hence my surprise that anyone reads the shit I have to say now), you would have read about the kid who was nervously preparing for her first day of law school.

Or, as my friend Tracy (daughter of a lawyer) called it, hard school.

It seems crazy to me that I've been doing this for two and a half years. Writing down what I have to say. Because when it comes down to it, I've got a great reminder of what the hardest, but most rewarding period of my life was like.

I say all of this because I'm sitting in the lawbrary finishing a paper. And in less than five hours, I'll never be sitting in another law school class again.

Today is my last day of law school.

(oh shit)

And I'm not really sure how I feel about it.

Granted, I know I'm not out of the woods yet - I gotta make it through two finals and pass that pesky little barzam - but I'm done with class. Forever.

And now I'm supposed to be a big kid.

...

CRAZY!!!!!!

Prepare yourselves for the Lewis Tully lawyer, everyone.

Your Honor, ladies and gentleman of the audience, I don't think it's fair to call my clients frauds. Sure, the blackout was a big problem for everybody. I was trapped in an elevator for two hours and I had to make the whole time. But I don't blame them. Because one time, I turned into a dog and they helped me. Thank you.

Silly Giggles ... or, How Text Messaging Can Brighten Your Day

2011-11-30T10:04:00.000-08:00

This is why we get along so well.

He makes me laugh.

Fifty Different Views Into The Pinball-Ish Mind of Ty ... or, How Being Deliciously Insightful Really Can Help Free Your Mind

2011-11-29T08:20:00.000-08:00

On my list of 101 things to accomplish in 1001 days, number 77 is to answer the Fifty Questions That Will Free Your Mind.

*****************************

These questions have no right or wrong answers.

Because sometimes asking the right questions is the answer.

And so it is.

one. How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are? I'd think I'd be a few years younger than I am now. I feel like I’m still a kid at times, until I do physical activity. Then I feel ninety.

two. Which is worse, failing or never trying? The ideal answer is never trying. Of course. So much easier said than done, though. No one likes failing, and sometimes it's easier to fall into complacency than to keep reaching.

three. If life is so short, why do we do so many things we don’t like and like so many things we don’t do? Again: complacency. Being afraid of failure, of judgment, of fear itself. You have to be removed from your comfort zone, and most of us aren't.

four. When it’s all said and done, will you have said more than you’ve done? We probably all will. Talk is cheap, but hopefully, I can do enough to make the ride worthwhile!

five. What is the one thing you’d most like to change about the world? If everyone was more aware of each other - more tolerant and more compassionate - and more respectful of their differences, I think that the world would be a happier place all around.

six. If happiness was the national currency, what kind of work would make you rich? Being able to do juvenile law work. And make a difference. And write. And write. And write. And coach gymnastics on the side. :)

seven. Are you doing what you believe in, or are you settling for what you are doing? I believe in the law. I believe that the good prevail and the bad will be punished. I think it would be hard to enter this profession not believing in what you do. However, there are plenty of them, and it’s sad that they’ve become jaded, cynical people. And maybe I just haven’t done it for long enough, but I hope to God I can still see the good in it.

eight. If the average human life span was 40 years, how would you live your life differently? Such an interesting question. Living life has become a little cliche. Squeezing everything you can out of life has been reduced to the lyrics of a cheesy country song, and I don't think that's what it's intended to be. Obviously, if I knew I only had another thirteen years, I can guarantee I'd be doing things differently. However, I don’t think it’s about satisfying a bucket list, or living life differently. Making the most of life is about prioritizing, not skydiving. It’s about figuring out what is important, and then making sure it doesn’t get put on the back burner. If I can do what I love with someone I love, I think that’s everything I could ever ask for.

nine. To what degree have you actually controlled the course your life has taken? Very little. I punish myself over and over for things I've done, but I know that my path was mapped out ahead of me. I believe that I had decisions to make (perhaps superficially so), but that the Big Man knew which path I would take ahead of time. I believe that every huge downward spiral was followed by an even bigger ascent, and for that, I can be thankful.

ten. Are you more worried about doing things right, or doing the right things? Whew. I try to do the right things. I really do. I get caught up, though, in trying to do things right, and I just screw it all up. I focus so much on trying to do the right thing that I lose sight of everything and end up in the wrong. I think that right now, doing the right thing means recognizing that I do it, and doing everything I can to fix it and not repeat it.

eleven. You’re having lunch with three people you respect and admire. They all start criticizing a close friend of yours, not knowing she is your friend. The criticism is distasteful and unjustified. What do you do? Be diplomatic. Don't attack (even though they've been misinformed), but defend the other friend if what they're saying isn't true.

twelve. If you could offer a newborn child only one piece of advice, what would it be? That the world won't always reward you for being good, but you do it anyway. Be good and be honest.

thirteen. Would you break the law to save a loved one? 100% absolutely. Find me someone who wouldn't. There is very, very little I wouldn't do for a loved one.

fourteen. Have you ever seen insanity where you later saw creativity? Only my entire life :)

fifteen. What’s something you know you do differently than most people? I think there might be a lot to this one. I guess I have the inability to cut people off entirely. Even if someone is awful to me, if they call and need me, I can never say no. I might be too forgiving, but maybe there's no such thing. I have the desire to see the best in everyone, and I’m not entirely sure that everyone does that.

sixteen. How come the things that make you happy don’t make everyone happy? Different things make different people happy. Doesn’t make it right or wrong – just different. Little things make me happy. Handwritten notes, new toothbrushes, and clean sheets will do it for me every time.

seventeen. What one thing have you not done that you really want to do? What’s holding you back? Circumvent the globe. The only thing that has ever held me back is the money. Given the opportunity, though, I’d drop everything to do it.

eighteen. Are you holding onto something you need to let go of? Yes. At this particular point in my life, I'm carrying around some baggage. Eventually, it will be set down. I’ve been told that I need to let it go, but it’s a matter of me forgiving myself enough to actually do it.

nineteen. If you had to move to a state or country besides the one you currently live in, where would you move and why? ANYWHERE. I'm realizing that there is very little of my nomadic life left, so I'd be willing to go anywhere and everywhere.

twenty. Do you push the elevator button more than once? Do you really believe it makes the elevator faster? Yes, I do! And no, I don't. I think it's more of a compulsion now ... a habit. And it gives me something to do.

twenty-one. Would you rather be a worried genius or a joyful simpleton? Blissful ignorance, baby.

twenty-two. Why are you, you? I am me because of my environment. My friends, my non-friends, my circumstances, and most importantly, my family. Mama and Popsicle gave me a great foundation, and I guess I’ve filled in the rest with experience.

twenty-three. Have you been the kind of friend you want as a friend? Quite frankly, no. Not always. In the past year, a lot of my life became unmanageable, and instead of leaning on friends and people who cared, I pushed them away. It wasn’t purposeful or malicious, but it happened as a result of how I was dealing with a crumbling life. I’m still working on mending relationships from that time, some to no avail. But I’ll try until I’m told not to. And that’s a start in making me the kind of friend I’d like to have.

twenty-four. Which is worse, when a good friend moves away, or losing touch with a good friend who lives right near you? Losing touch, without a doubt. For no other reason that getting busy and forgetting.

twenty-five. What are you most grateful for? Getting to wake up every morning and live the way I want to live – by doing what I love with the people I love. I take that for granted so much.

twenty-six. Would you rather lose all of your old memories, or never be able to make new ones? Lose my old memories. I'm only twenty-seven years old. Hopefully, I have plenty of time to make many, many more. I refuse to believe that this is the best it will be.

twenty-seven. Is it possible to know the truth without challenging it first? Some things you just have to have faith in - but I've even questioned that. For me, it took questioning to really believe.

twenty-eight. Has your greatest fear ever come true? No, it hasn't. But I'm terrified it still might.

twenty-nine. Do you remember that time five years ago when you were extremely upset? Does it really matter now? Yes, I do. Very, very well. And it still matters. However, it is one of very few things that still upset me, so I got that going for me.

thirty. What is your happiest childhood memory? What makes it so special? I had a lot of really happy childhood memories. I loved winning state in 1996 – that was really special. Knowing that working out twenty-something hours a week as a twelve year old had paid off.

thirty-one. At what time in your recent past have you felt most passionate and alive? I don’t know that I’ve felt better than I have in the past few months. I struggle almost daily, but I haven’t felt this hopeful in a long, long time.

thirty-two. If not now, then when? Great question. We’ll just say now.

thirty-three. If you haven’t achieved it yet, what do you have to lose? Just time. And youth.

thirty-four. Have you ever been with someone, said nothing, and walked away feeling like you just had the best conversation ever? Yes. Best feeling ever.

thirty-five. Why do religions that support love cause so many wars? Radically religious folks too often feel theirs is better than their neighbors. And instead of living with tolerance, the judgmental try to change, and they are usually met with staunch resistance. I actually had a talk with someone not too long ago about this. If someone came to this country and wanted us all to convert to Islam, wouldn’t the Christians of the country put up a fight? Of course. However, we don’t expect anyone else to do the same. It’s mind-boggling.

thirty-six. Is it possible to know, without a doubt, what is good and what is evil? I’m not sure. I think the devil takes many shapes when trying to pull some trickeration. I do think, though, that God puts that doubt in your heart for a reason.

thirty-seven. If you just won a million dollars, would you quit your job? No. I think it would be easier to work when you know you don’t need the money.

thirty-eight. Would you rather have less work to do, or more work you actually enjoy doing? More work. You know what they say about idle hands …

thirty-nine. Do you feel like you’ve lived this day a hundred times before? Nope. Sometimes things can feel repetitive, but it’s always an adventure.

forty. When was the last time you marched into the dark with only the soft glow of an idea you strongly believed in? When I was traveling California. I didn’t really know anyone, but I knew I wanted the experience of being 100% on my own. And I made friends and I survived.

forty-one. If you knew that everyone you know was going to die tomorrow, who would you visit today? My mama.

forty-two. Would you be willing to reduce your life expectancy by ten years to become extremely attractive or famous? Absolutely not. I’ve made it this far without being extremely attractive or famous, and I think I’m doing just fine :)

forty-three. What is the difference between being alive and truly living? The difference between black and white.

forty-four. When is it time to stop calculating risk and rewards, and just go ahead and do what you know is right? I think everyone’s moment will be different, but everyone requires a catalyst to stop being so afraid of making mistakes. I’ve made a ton of them, and so far, none of them have killed me. In fact, I’d venture to say that my risks and rewards, be them good or bad, are what have made me who I am. And I kind of like who I am.

forty-five. If we learn from our mistakes, why are we always so afraid to make a mistake? Mistakes are messy. I think we tend to think of life like high school sometimes – that you learn the lessons, and then you don’t make the mistakes. I think, though, that in real life, you learn the lesson from the mistake. And we’d just rather not have to deal with the icky stuff.

forty-six. What would you do differently if you knew nobody would judge you? I’ve been lucky so far that the fear of judgment hasn’t held me from too much. Honestly, though, I’d write more. And I’d probably try to do it for a living.

forty-seven. When was the last time you noticed the sound of your own breathing? Running last night. Most relaxing sound in the world.

forty-eight. What do you love? Have any of your recent actions openly expressed this love? I love life. I wholeheartedly 100% love the life I’ve been blessed with. The people that surround me are better than I deserve. I hope they all know how much I love them.

forty-nine. Five years from now, will you remember what you did yesterday? What about the day before that? Or the day before that? Probably not. Not in detail. I’ll think I’ll remember that I was generally happy but nothing earth-shatteringly important happened. However, a few things- my first trial and first marathon - I can guarantee I’ll remember those.

fifty. Decisions are being made right now. The question is: Are you making them for yourself, or are you letting others make them for you? A little bit of both, I think. But it’s not a terrible balance.

And They Lived Happily Ever After ... or, The Varying and Non-Perverse Definition of A Happy Ending

2011-11-28T11:41:00.000-08:00

Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up. If a guy punches you, he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs, and someday, you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending.

Every movie we see, every story we're told implores us to wait for it - the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule.

But sometimes we're so focused on finding our happy ending, we don't learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don't, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy.

Maybe it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future.

Maybe the happy ending is just moving on.

Or maybe the happy ending is this: knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment, you never gave up hope.

*****************

SO.

What is YOUR idea of a happy ending?

(hi-yooo!)

Mushy Gushy Happy ... or, What I'm Thankful For

2011-11-24T08:41:00.000-08:00

I'm thankful ... that I can run. I really don't know how I'd release some stress without it.

I'm thankful ... that I'm healthy. That I can move and breathe and see and hear. That despite having a few hiccups here and there, I'm good.

I'm thankful ... for the best family ever. Honest to goodness #1 family in the world.

I'm thankful ... that school is almost over and I'll be a real lawyer soon!

I'm thankful ... for a sweet-hearted man with huge sense of humor, a finely-tuned moral compass, and a great ass.

In all seriousness, though, I am so, so thankful for this man. 2011 has been the hardest year I've had, and he's stood by me through everything. He's celebrated my ups and dusted off my downs. I can be very hard to love sometimes, and he makes it look easy. I make it hard on him a lot - it's not that I want to, I just still deal with a lot of residual nonsense that creeps into my life - and he talks through everything with me, when he could just as easily be finished. His patience and faith in me is overwhelming. I don't know what I would be like right now if not for his encouragement and love.

He's made my life infinitely better just by being in it, and I can't imagine being more thankful for anything.

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

(*happy thanksgiving*)

You're Still Around To Write This Letter To Me ... My Angsty Tribute to My Teenage Self

2011-11-22T07:12:00.000-08:00

"Count to ten, take it in,
this is life before you know who you're gonna be."

I was watching some national news show last week (I don't remember which one, and to be honest, it's completely impertinent to my story, so we'll just forget about the name), and I saw a piece on a new book.

The editor of the book approached different actors, writers, and various important public figures to write a letter to themselves at 15.

Simple enough, right?

That got me to thinking: if I knew then what I know now, how might I reassure myself as a teenager, when I was trying to make a slow climb into adulthood?

I gave it a whirl.

***************************

Dear Fifteen Year-Old Ty:

Life is really great for you right now, whether you're willing to acknowledge it or not. You have a problem comparing yourself to the girls who are built like they're 21 and act like they're 25, but you do gymnastics 25 hours a week and don't have daddy issues. Those comparisons aren't even fair. Don't be sad about it. PROMISE.

Don't worry so much. The things you think are so life-altering really aren't. In fact, in the grand scheme of things, most of what is happening now is fairly inconsequential. You've made some amazing friends, people that you will still be running around with years later. Cherish their sweet hearts. They will be your rock and your comfort when times are hard.

All the extra money you spent on bitchingly awesome CDs? Yeah, don't leave your entire case sitting on top of the vacuum at the carwash. You'll be more upset about this ten years later than you are now.

Don't be upset about boys that see you as a friend and not a girlfriend. You'll still adore all those boys twelve years later, and they'll love you back. Don't be embarrassed about it - as it turns out, dudes kind of dig the gal who bullshits with them and talks sports. They may not appreciate it now, but they will later. I know this won't make you feel any better now, but know that in a few short years, you'll be the cat's meow just because you're you.

You'll cry to your AP Psych teacher about it, because you just don't understand why, and he'll tell you something that will stick with you: "Those girls are sports cars. Fast, shiny, and complicated. They break once and you can't fix them. You get tired of it because of the maintenance. You're a Cadillac. You're always in style."

You won't like it then, but you'll understand it later. You'll even agree.

Like Taylor Swift says (who you don't know her yet, but trust me, you will, and you will wail her songs with a passion), "In your life you'll do greater things than date a boy on the football team."

And you will.

Cut Alan and Janet a break. You have absolutely no idea how good you have it. Twelve years from now, when you see friends have life-changing fall-outs with their parents and don't speak to them for years, you'll understand that you hit the parent lottery. Not only do they try to be the best parents, they succeed. Tell them that you appreciate them. You'll really understand how great you have it later in life.

Don't let your best friend in college dye your hair darker. It will not come out chestnut, it will come out black, and your mother will cry.

Go see Memaw and take her to the casino and talk to her about anything and everything. ALL THE TIME. Cherish her massive pre-dinner spread on Christmas Eve and her little trinket ornaments. Pay more attention to how she makes chocolate fried pies. Remember the smell of her car and how warm it always feels. Soak in every second of her super-tickled laugh that makes you smile so much. Don't laugh at her when she tells you she's convinced you'll marry Josh Turner. Kiss and squeeze her every opportunity you get. Let her let go of the hugs first. Hold on as long as you can. Because I promise you, after Thanksgiving 2005, you'll wish every, single day that you could do it all one more time.

Your sister is eleven. Almost twelve. She looks up to you so much. Don't be too cool for her. Looking back, you'll regret that you spent so much time viewing her as a pain in your ass when she wasn't. AT ALL. In fact, you'll regret it for a while. Once you guys become really close ten years from now, you'll want to hammer yourself over the head for being such a buttface.

(yeah, I said buttface)

You will have a very, very hard time when you're 21. The time period between November 2004 and February 2006 will be terrible. You'll wonder why you're around. Your self-worth and confidence will drop to a level so low, you won't be sure if you can climb out. You'll be so unaccustomed to the dark place that you're in that you'll wonder if you can ever get out of it.

But you can. And you do.

And it will hit you again in 2011. And it will be ten times worse and ten times harder and completely different than the first time around. You'll struggle with it more, because it has more to do with your deep-seeded issues from the first time. You'll wonder relentlessly if you're worthy of the love you're given.

You are.

Stop punishing yourself. Take what is freely given in love.

You're going to lose a lot of family and friends too early. More, maybe, than most of your friends. This won't ever get easier. You'll remind yourself each and every time to make sure the people you love never forget how much they mean to you. Try to remember this outside of tragedy.

Now, prepare yourself:

You aren't where you thought you'd be.

You aren't married with beautifully smelly kids, playing house and being a ball-busting attorney and superhero extraordinaire on the side.

But you're right where you're supposed to be.

And you're on your way to the life you want.

But while you're looking forward to the destination, don't forget to enjoy the journey.

It truly is the best part.

This won't make much sense to you now.

But it will.

Someday soon.

Love,

Old Ty

Tragedy Amidst the Happiness ... or, Garrett Uekman and My Thoughts On Westboro Baptist Church

2011-11-21T14:37:00.000-08:00

If you guys follow sports at all, you've probably seen the sad news coming out of Arkansas over the weekend.

Nineteen year old tight end Garrett Uekman was found dead in his dorm room on Sunday morning.

And apparently, Westboro Baptist Church plans to picket his funeral.

Because sports breed pride.

I've thought very long and very carefully about how I wanted to discuss this, so I'm trying as hard as I can to make sense. We'll just see how it goes.

I typically will try to see the best in evangelical deeds, even if their actions are back-asswards. People do crazy things in the name of God, regardless of what they call Him or believe Him to be. I attempt to think that deep down, they have an altruistic reason for behaving the way they do.

People judge, and unfortunately, much of it is seen through the doors of a church. For some reason, Christians can see belief as a stage for judgment. We can ride a pretty mighty high-horse to justify being better than our neighbor.

I think about people who protest abortion clinics or those who denounce homosexual marriage by simply cherry picking verses of the Bible that suit their needs. Forgetting, of course, that the Bible is meant to be read as a whole and in context. Bypassing the verses that may go against their own behavior.

Is this the best way to bring anyone to Christ? Well, no. Absolutely not. But somewhere, somehow, I try to think that their motives are pure. That their intentions were good, but their execution is just absolutely piss-poor. That they got caught up in the idea of it all. That maybe they just think that the ends justify the means.

That being said, please pardon me for saying what I'm about to write.

I think that there is a special place in Hell for Westboro Baptist Church.

It's hard for me to see the best in these people, try as I might. I'd rather just tell them what a bunch of judgmental, hypocritical assbag excuses for Christians they are, but at that point, I'd be no better than them. My judgment is no less sinful than theirs. Once I heard about their plans to protest the Eukman funeral, I visited the Twitter site of Margie Phelps. It takes everything I have not to tweet at her with every single name under the sun, but it seems like she feeds off of negative energy.

Kind of like the pink goo from Ghostbusters 2.

Anyway.

People talk frequently about how hate breeds hate, and about how you can't fight ignorance with contempt, but it's much harder to take something that is so close to home and place it in perspective. It's been easier to be an angel as a spectator than it is when it knocks on your front door. We as fans need to remember that, now more than ever.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction ... The chain reaction of evil--hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars -- must be broken, or we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation.

(MLK Jr.)

Honestly, I think judgmental Christians kind of just missed the point.

WBC has a history of planning and not showing, though, and I pray that's exactly what will happen in Little Rock. The Twitter world has been buzzing about it, and I was conflicted in saying anything at all - they want the attention, and we're giving it to them. I've seen some lighthearted responses to the planned protest - surrounding those with signs and calling the Hogs, over and over and over. Which just makes me laugh. I kind of love that idea.

And the Arkansas redneck in me just wants to take 'em outside to the street corner and kick the shit of of them.

With all the BCS mania running through Fayetteville Saturday night, I think everyone was slapped in the face with a wake-up call - that at the end of the day, the game isn't as important as the kids who play it.

And I sincerely hope that lesson won't be lost.

Get after 'em, Hogs.

Winning will be that much sweeter.

A team with something to play for is dangerous. A team with someone to play for is unstoppable.
(Brey Cook)

Christmas-ing and Selling My Soul to the Bar (No, Not The Law One) ... or, It's Okay

2011-11-17T11:30:00.000-08:00

It's Okay ...

... to be really excited to be back in the service industry for a while. Hit me up at Powerhouse, NWAers!

... to have missed three calls yesterday because I was blasting the Classic Christmas station.

... to have made a Christmas list for what I want to buy everyone, but have no gwap to buy them.

... to daydream incessantly about the future.

... to have lost two followers. WTF mate?

... to want to give up the law life, get married and make pot roast.

... to be REDONK excited about having a little holiday swap with Miss Rachel! (Tune in soon!!)

... to be absolutely terrified about only having six days of class left EVER after today. Holy shitballs.

... to be working 34 hours in three days. Dolla dolla bills, y'all. (see also: Christmas list with no money. This would be the remedy)

... to have super duper Fred Flintstone feet STILL. I have a gift certificate for a mani/pedi from sister, but my nasty feet are almost a badge of honor.

... to genuinely love being busy. If I weren't running around like a chicken with my head cut off, I wouldn't even recognize myself.

... to want a Christmas tree for Christmas. You know, early present and everything.

My Biography Set To Music ... or, Why I'm A Big Giant Mess of a Gal

2011-11-16T09:34:00.000-08:00

I'm a music person.

(This isn't really breaking news to anyone who knows me.)

I listen to songs carefully. As though they were written especially for me.

And I heard one on the radio that I'm convinced was written especially for me.

John and I were in the car, and after I heard the first line, I immediately turned it up.

Honestly, it made me want to cry. The first few lines were enough. The words, the melody ... everything. It just made me sit and think.

That even in my messiest, it's still fun.

:)

I lost count of the times I've given up on you
But you make such a beautiful wreck, you do
There's a tavern on the corner called the Milky Way
And you look so at home there, it makes me afraid

And at the dark end of this bar
What a beautiful wreck you are
When you go too far,

What a beautiful wreck you are

Well all the plans that you had
From seven years ago
Like all the promises you made
I watched them come and go

You put your keys in the car, but it wouldn't drive
With your hands on the wheel, lookin' barely alive
I'm still sitting here waiting on the passenger side
For you to make up your mind

At the dark end of this bar
What a beautiful wreck you are
When you go too far,
What a beautiful wreck you are
What a beautiful, such a beautiful
A beautiful wreck you are
What a beautiful, such a beautiful wreck

I've lost count of the times I've given up on you
But you make such a beautiful wreck, you do
Yeah, you make such a beautiful wreck, you do
You make such a beautiful wreck, you do

At the dark end of this bar
What a beautiful wreck you are
When you go too far
What a beautiful wreck you are
What a beautiful, such a beautiful,
Beautiful wreck you are.

Getting the Bar Party Started ... or, The Ceremonial Dropping-Off of the Application

2011-11-15T12:45:00.000-08:00

I turned in my bar application today.

Oh. Em. Gee.

It now lives here with all the Justices.

Now I just gotta show up at the end of February and pass the test.

WOWWWW.

Dear Arkansas Bar Examiners: Please be nice.

Nine Zillion Hours with Fred Flintstone Feet, Sad Nipples, Rotting Hips and Other Various Butt-Clinching Ailments ... or, Lessons Learned from My First Full Marathon

2011-11-14T13:09:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm alive.

(barely)

Not that you'd know it by looking at me.

I look like a big bag full of mashed up assholes, and I feel even worse (if possible).

I left my immune system somewhere in the Bronx, so for the past week, I've been sniffling and generally acting pathetic.

I make it seem so bad, but I'm really fine now. It just took me forever to recover, get caught up, and finally write about it!!

(God bless Instagram, it makes me look like a decent photographer)

So we left on a jet plane on Friday morning. I was still optimistically pumped up on the drive there. Duhh. However, about 15 minutes before we boarded, our lodging plans fell through.

This might unnerve normal people.

But not I.

For I was raised the daughter of a travel agent, and I know, deep down, that I'll never sleep on the sidewalk. We can always figure something out.

After all, I am a member of the family whose Barbados relaxation trip ended at Six Flags Over Texas. Just roll with the punches, yo.

However, John (the normal, rational one) was looking at me like he wanted to stab me in the face for like, five hours.

To add to that, we had a medical emergency in flight, and as soon as we landed at LaGuardia, a whole bunch of FDNYers boarded and got all serious on us.

They didn't even drag her out on a stretcher. Poser.

Anyway, we sit down by baggage claim and I call mi madre, Jan, travel extraordinaire. Natch, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to tell me to just book a hotel, but the problem lies in John and I both being law students and broke. Finding affordable lodging that doesn't include a shared bathroom or bleeding walls can be taxing.

However, we did. And it was settled.

[If anyone needs a cool, cheap place to stay in Midtown, try The Gem. Little (I do mean little) boutique hotel.]

Got some great noms at 44 1/2 ...

They had an amazing gourmet thin-crust pizza selection. I had lobster and John had NY strip, and we split a bottle of wine.

I had to hydrate, duh.

Saturday was a big cluster-you-know-what of emotion and craziness. We went to the expo and picked up my stuff, and that's when I started mind-you-know-what-ing myself. All these other people seemed so seasoned and ready, and I felt like the kid picking my nose and making daisy chains in right field.

I think it started getting in my head then. And it was hard to get out. I was so super nervous, but trying to fake it 'til I made (maked, whatevs) it.

And then it was Sunday.

My bus was leaving at 5:45 (*gasp*), so I was up and out the door by 5:15.

(yes, I know I look queer. whatevs)

This was our lovely bus headed over to Staten Island!

Crossing the Verrazano Bridge ...

Unloading!!

My new Hoboken friends, Allie and Joe.

****************

So for the good stuff:

More or less, I've never been so physically, mentally or emotionally spent in my entire life.

Every ounce of my body ached and throbbed.

I was high-fived by a row of about six Hasidic Jews.

I ran into a pledge sister from Harrah, Oklahoma while running through Brooklyn.

I did an impromptu break dance with some boys in the Bronx.

I hit my wall around mile 18. For some reason, right around here, my hips started aching. Like, not "oh, I've ran 18 miles so my hips kind of ache" aching, but "Holy shit, my legs are rotting off my body and I can no longer move my appendages" ache. I knew I should have bought new shoes at some point, and it was never as apparent to me as it was around mile 16. Oh Lawd, it was awful.

It was right around here that I just started intermittently crying.

I was hurting, and the little devil on my shoulder started screaming at me that I couldn't do it. And for a little while, I believed it.

I would find myself moaning every once in a while, to no one in particular.

(oh hai, don't mind me)

I'd convince myself that I wasn't strong enough to do it. Then I saw a woman holding a sign that said,
One day, you won't be able to do this. Today is not that day.

So I cried and it was like spinach to Popeye for about another mile, and then I hurt again, but at that point I was running up Fifth Avenue, so I knew I wasn't gonna stop.

And then I saw a sign that said,
Less than 1% of the human race can do what you're doing RIGHT NOW.

So I cried again.

Once I hit mile 25, it was less about being excited to finish and more about survival mode. Head down, arms pumping survival. I'd be lying if I said that for the seven miles preceding this one, I wasn't wondering why the hell I signed up to do this.

And once I hit the home stretch, I remembered.

Because by golly, I'm one strong mamajamma.

I looked like I was dying, but I wasn't. I wanted to sit down and curl up in a fetal position, but I didn't.

I just ran.

And I finished.

And because of that, this sweet boy can breathe a little better.

Makes that stupid ensuing ice bath worth it, right? :)

Down To The River to Pray ... or, My Pretty Friend's Baptism

2011-11-03T08:17:00.000-07:00

I got to spend last night watching a sweet friend of mine get baptized.

I don't know about y'all, but I love baptisms. I think it's my favorite event to experience inside the church.

I was raised to believe that you are baptized when you are old enough to know its significance. And I really like that. I like that it's something that you make a choice to do, and not something you're forced into doing as a child.

So naturally, when my friend Crystal asked me to come to her baptism, there was no way I was missing it!

She had a great support system that rolled out for her special day.

For serious.

Look at all those people.

It's a funny story with Crystal and I. In the very beginning, before we even knew each other, we threw hate-balls back and forth.

See, Crystal was with P directly before I was.

[I feel as though that's all that needs to be said for everyone to understand.]

Once we split, I got a very nice message from her, and we met up, and now we're lovely little friends!

She has a very sweet heart and I'm glad we've gotten to know each other.

And we're pretty, duhh.

[I kid. Kind of]

Damn, Damn, Double Damn ... or, When Things Stopped Being Fun and Shit Got Real

2011-11-02T05:32:00.000-07:00

So here we are.

Week of the marathon.

DISCLAIMER:

If you are my mama, my daddy, my grandparents, the majority of one side of my family, or just have a general aversion to cursing and crude language, it might be best to just bow out now and come back tomorrow for pink, fluffy posts.

NOW.

........

Yeah.

(no, really)

(Shit, piss, damn, cock, balls, bitch, tits.)

This is how I feel right now.

I have the devil on my shoulder saying that I'll probably die, at least for a while.

And I have the angel on the other side telling me that physically and mentally, I'm a strong mamm-jamma and I can do absolutely anything.

So here we are.

Wednesday before a Friday flight and Sunday marathon.

And I might woo in my pants.

Thoughts?

Operation Turkey Drop ... or, How Arkansans Celebrate Thanksgiving

2011-11-01T09:33:00.000-07:00

I've lived in Arkansas (almost) my entire life. Minus a few years at OU, Florida and California, it's all I've ever known.

So I really don't know how the hell I missed an Arkansas event that involves throwing live turkeys out of an airplane.

Seriously.

I learned about the Turkey Drop last night when we were passing out candy. Someone brought it up, that a plane dropped turkeys, and I was thinking of people flinging frozen Butterballs out the open door, kinda like Operation Iraqi Freedom or something.

Oh no.

Real, live turkeys.

And apparently, this is a huge deal. People fight for them.

This is my home state, everyone.

******************

On another note, we were geniuses last night.

We went over to our friends' house to pass out candy with about ten people.

Sweet Roni made a delicious Mexican feast, with exchiladas, fajitas, guac and S'MORES!

We took our fiesta outside with the firepit and some beverage and passed out candy.

We thought about passing out beer to the daddies, but it was a little late in the game.

Maybe next year.

My Most Recent Foray Into Stereotypical Ty-Land ... or, Beep, Beep. Who Got The Keys To The Jeep? VROOM.

2011-10-31T07:16:00.000-07:00

This is another one of those typical Ty stories.

Like when I ran out of gas in the parking lot of the gas station.

Starts out normally enough: I lost my keys.

I know what everyone is thinking - losing your keys is nothing special, everyone does it, you turn the house upside down, you tear your hair out, you find them in the freezer by the vodka. No harm, no foul.

Or am I the only one whose keys secretly camp out by the booze?

I digress.

That is a different story for a different time.

So.

They'd been MIA since Thursday. John and I left to go to Norman that afternoon, and I can remember seeing my keys in the little green bowl they live in when not in use and thinking to myself, "I should take my keys. Normal adults take their keys with them everywhere. And even though John is driving and he has a house key and I have absolutely NO reason to take my keys - other than chancing the possibility of losing them and throwing a fit and dying a little inside - I'm gonna take 'em anyway, because damn it all, I'm a grown-up, and grown-ups always have their keys."

(you see where this is going)

So I pick 'em up to take 'em. Duh.

Of course, I don't even think about them until Monday.

I dig through all of the purses I took (yes, I took three purses for a weekend trip - that's a different issue entirely), and I come up empty-handed. I rummage through my backpack, and among two antibiotics bottles, three plastic forks, a shit-ton of paper trash and the occasional law trinket, there are still no keys.

So I tear apart my home, couch from cushion. Moving furniture, checking inside desks, looking in the pantry (what?), everywhere. Nothing.

By then, we had convinced ourselves that Louie had run off with them because he thought they were his toy. My dog is somewhat special. By special, I mean not terribly smart. He's afraid of tennis balls and barks at the toilet, so I wasn't terribly offended by the notion that he had mistaken a metal and plastic cluster for his plush raccoon and buried it in the backyard.

However, this was also not the case.

Sorry, Lou. How could this face have tricked his mama?

Not a chance in the world.

Then, I decide that I must have lost them somewhere in John's car, because I KNOW I picked them up and threw them in my purse and that's that.

Nope.

Just for the hell of it, I try my car.

Unlocked. Natch. Why not?

Nothing in there but a funky smell that can only be described as a balsalmic vinegar-cherry limeade mixture (don't ask me how, but I swear, that's what it smells like) and golf clubs.

So, to recap:

I searched and I searched and I searched, and I tore apart my house, John's car, and my car - which had been left unlocked and miraculously had NOT been hot-wired, destroyed, and abandoned somewhere in Eastern Oklahoma - and I still couldn't find them, and blah-blah-blah and then I hit my head against the wall for a while because I just can't seem to get my shit together. EVER.

John decides he's gonna go look in the cars as well, because 1) two sets of eyes are better than one, B) he was tired of watching old episodes of Roseanne and needed to get out of the house, and 3) he knows I have a tendency to completely overlook the obvious because of my somewhat-flighty head.

And I'm always indignant about this last factor because damn it, I want to be capable, but Jell-o can never be creme brulee. Que sera sera.

I decide to come out with him and watch him look, so that when he didn't find them, I can giggle inside and secretly think to myself, "Hahahahaaaa, he couldn't find them either, I'm not a dumbass, nanny-nanny-boo-boo!"

(sorry, John, but I was kind of thinking it. Only a little, though)

And as soon as I step foot out the door, he looked at me with wide eyes and says, "Your doors just locked!"

At this time, we may or may not have both been convinced it was a ghost and/or demon. After all, we spent the previous night watching Paranormal Activity, and I know how that shit works now.

However, about five seconds later, it hits us.

Look down.

Yeah.

John just happened to step on 'em when he was going to my car.

In conclusion:

My keys spent almost an entire week sitting on the ground three feet from my unlocked car's ignition.

How's that for a safe neighborhood?

Leg-Sweeping Babies ... or, How Lawyers Like to Ex Par-TAY (See What I Did There?)

2011-10-29T09:15:00.000-07:00

Last night was the law school Halloween party.

You'd think that as future members of the bench, we'd conduct ourselves in behavior fitting of ladies and gentlemen of the legal community.

Assuming, of course, that we're all good, responsible, law-abiding citizens.

You would be so wrong.

I've seen frat parties that don't get as rowdy as law parties.

Of course, I'm into single-digits before the marathon, so I'm not drinking (much to John's delight, as that meant he had a sober driver). So I got to sit back and watch the debauchery with a clear head, which I now regret because DAMN, there's some craziness out there.

My original plan was to be Eden from Toddlers and Tiaras, but after I spent all day in the lawbrary researching, I didn't have the necessary time to pull it together. I ran to the mall in the hour before the party and ran into a fleece onesie and I just had to have it.

One Wal-Mart stop for a babydoll later, I was drinking out of a baby bottle and was the warmest, comfiest little baby in the room.

John was Johnny Lawrence from Karate Kid. He totally has the hair for it, right?

I ran around all night screaming, "Sweep the leg, Johnny!!"

Totally sober, mind you.

We also had an Ace and Gary that were AMAZING.

The future of Arkansas law, everyone.

Scared yet?

And then at the end of the night, my baby got tired and hungry, as babies often do.

So I fed her.

No big.

(you better believe I'm rocking that onesie again)

Winna Winna Chicken Dinna!! ... or, Somebody's Gonna Be All Planned and Caffeinated

2011-10-28T10:20:00.000-07:00

So I took everyone's comments, tweets, blogs, FBings, and donations and threw them into a numbered list that totaled 84.

Then I random numbered and got 5.

Which was this sweet gal right here!

If you don't read Rachel's blog yet, you should. She was one of my very first bloggy friends, and she is genuinely one of the sweetest people I've met out blogging. She always has something insightful to say .... go check her out!

Rachel, shoot me an email!!

********

And thank you.

I wish I could give everyone something for helping me spread the word. You guys did more than I could have ever asked. From the very bottom of my heart, thank you. It means the world to John and I that y'all helped as much as you did.

And speaking of our resident CFer, he asked if he could say something.

So of course I said he could.

Hello to all of Ty’s blogger friends! I asked Ty if I could add a few words today about her giveaway, and she was gracious enough to allow it. First, I wanted to thank Tyler because she’s pretty freakin’ awesome. She’s the first friend I’ve ever had, in any capacity, that has shown so much drive and enthusiasm for raising money for CF research, and I count myself lucky to have her around. As I’m sure you can gather from some of her stories, she’s very passionate and caring. And she tells great stories about her daily shenanigans, some of which I even get to witness first-hand, which is fun.

But what I really wanted to do today is to thank all of you! I know it may seem like you weren’t doing much for entries into her giveaway (I’ve been told she set ya’ll up with some pretty awesome swag, although being a boy, I have no idea how good it is to win a copy of Steel Magnolias … but I trust she knows what she’s doing). Truth is, posting in any way about ways to donate to CF research goes a long way. CF research has taken leaps and bounds over the last few years alone, and so all money raised and all awareness given to the cause really goes far. So thank you for helping my girl get the word out and raise those dollas. It truly means a lot to me, and I’m not just saying that because I benefit directly from it … ok, maybe I am a little. But the bottom line is you never know what seed has been planted just from all your posts about Ty’s raising money for CF.

I truly appreciate everyone’s participation, because even if you didn’t realize it, you were doing so much more than entering a giveaway. It means more than I can express that everyone can get behind a girl raising money for a good cause. I encourage everyone who reads this to continue to look for ways to help raise more money for CF research. You can go to CFF.org to learn more about CF and to find local events that benefit CF research. The events are a ton of fun and my family and I have really enjoyed being involved with the CFF events over the last 10 years. So go out there and participate, volunteer, or give a few bucks to a great cause that helps tens of thousands of Americans live better lives.

******************

So there ya have it, kiddos. From the main man himself.

Now just say a prayer that I don't keel over and die in eight days.

...

Eight days.

Oh shit.