I have a deposition on Wednesday.
We are being sued in the morning and we are countersuing in the afternoon.
How come the more things I have to do, the slower my thinking, energy and resolve? I’ve been telling myself to sit down and prepare my paperwork all weekend. It is Sunday at midnight and I have done jack shidh.
Those lawyers are going to wipe my nomad butt all over the floor. I should care but I feel strangely numb. I am eating a banana split I shouldn’t, the prints on my shorts are mesmerizing. I will do anything not to start this week, go to that deposition, and fight my old clients.
Can I leave all of this behind and move in with you? Anyone?
I make great pancakes and I’m housebroken.
Tonight I am going to a wedding of a friend’s sister. This is her third. I vowed, swore up and down, and spat on a promise ring that I would not attend another wedding of this woman. I hate weddings in general but she manages to put together the worst.
After 2 previous marriages, I think a small ceremony is in order for the third. Am I being too cruel? I just don’t get why she needs to wear a white dress, do the green mile walk while people are shouting and ululating, sit in that hideous stare-a-thon seat for the just-married, and then have those odd-looking video guys take pictures. And her 3 kids from the last 2 marriages will be running around.
It is all very strange to me.
Today, I feel like a:
- Howler monkey
- Bernie Madoff at roll call
- Guy who won the best job in the world babysitting an Island in Australia
If you guess this right, I shall send you a postcard wherever you may be in the world.
No, I’m not fixin’ to stalk you (*pushes killing kit under the table*)
No, I don’t want to fix you up with my younger brother, older female cousin, or friend who insists we are all connected to alien life forces (*hides love potion, date drug, and creepy cubic zirconium ring under the other table*).
I’m just in a festive mood. In one swoop (okay, maybe a few ducks and turns), my company went belly up, my partners sued and were counter-sued by people with severe allergies to paying their bills. Thanks to savings in a firm that had its doors crashed by the FBI in March (starts with S and ends with D, and shares a name with a prestigious school in Palo Alto), I lost all my savings.
I am back, people. With new insights about how much we can really endure. You may think that you lost everything but you haven’t really lost anything.
The postcard thing is for real. Send me an e-mail with a PO-Box or a creepy relative’s address by June 30, and I will send you a lovely postcard with a naughty note (tehehe). Just kidding. What do you take me for?!
