He'll Know I'm Crazy

In the course of my family law work, I've had the opportunity to interact with many members of the mental health community. They provide services ranging from mediation to custody evaluations to counseling kids abandoned by parents who would rather use drugs than take care of them. In the course of this work, I met a therapist who seemed like the sort of guy I would like to know. After the case we were involved with concluded, he asked me out.

We met for lunch, which seemed like a safe date, with a clearly defined end-point. If I decided I didn't like him, I would call my secretary on my cell phone. She had been warned that there was a potential "emergency" which would necessitate my immediate return to the office.

Armed with a contingency plan, I settled in for lunch. We talked about the players in our most recent case. We talked about our practices. I asked (careful not to cross-examine) about his interests and his background. This led naturally to him asking me about myself and my personal history. I got nervous. Surely, as a mental health professional, he would quickly realize that I was (am) a lunatic.

At that moment, the date was over for me. I was now engaged in pitched battle. I was trying to give only answers that proved I was a normal person. I will allow for the possibility that this strategy resulted in my sounding crazier than ever. "So, your parents split up?" "Yes, but it's really okay. They should have done it sooner. Ha. Ha." "Why should they have divorced sooner?" "What? Oh, I don't know. Um, it's just that I support both of them. Equally. I want them to be happy. But I know it's not my responsibility to make them happy. So, you know, it's...everything's cool!" "Would you prefer not to discuss this?" "Nonono, nothing to discuss! Ha. Do you think we should get some wine? Now where did that waitress...Miss!" "Well, I don't really drink at noon, so..." "Ha, neither do I! Thanks, darlin'! (draining the glass) So, what were we talking about?"

You will be surprised to learn that there was no second date. Apparently, he somehow got the impression that I was an irrationally defensive drunk. I'm not sure why that posed such a problem, though. I've dated insane alcoholics lots of times, and it's always worked out great. Well, maybe great is overstating things.

To be honest, I would have lost all respect for him as a professional if he hadn't figured out that I was nuts.

In the beginning

Ithaca, 1997

Dear Friend: You should meet my boyfriend's best friend. I think you would love him.
MJS: I don't know. You know how I am with strangers.
DF (sighing): Yes, I know. But what if it was no stress? What if we just happened to run into them tonight?
MJS: But I'll know what you have in mind, and I'll act like a loon.
DF: Maybe he likes loons.
MJS: Am I getting out of this?
DF: Not even a little bit.
MJS: Why did you even tell me? If you didn't tell me, maybe I would have met him and been in love with no outside interference.
DF: No, you would ignore him and be on the dance floor making out with your Other Friend to the sounds of Marvin Gaye.
MJS: So?
DF: So I think you should meet someone who shares your interests.
MJS: We both like musical theater and Madonna.
DF: You both like guys, too.
MJS: What time are you picking me up?

------

DF: This is Mr. Wonderful. He's Boyfriend's best friend.
MJS (warily): Oh. Hi.
Mr. W: So, what are you studying?
MJS: Law.
(silence)
Mr. W: Do you like it?
MJS: Mmm-hmm. (Noticing Other Friend on dance floor) Would you excuse me?

-------

MJS: How about you? What are you studying?
Mr. W: I'd rather not say.
MJS: Are you really a student? Do you tell people you go here, but really you're a drifter? I don't care, but you shouldn't lie about it.
Mr. W: What? No! It's just when I tell people what I do, they tune out.
MJS: If I were an aimless drifter, I would be up front about it.
Mr. W: Nice use of the subjunctive at two in the morning.
MJS: You just complimented my grammar.
Mr. W: Yes.
MJS (woozy): Oh. Gosh.

--------

DF: I was think it would be fun if the four of us signed up for dancing classes!
MJS: So much fun!
B: Okay. What do you say, Mr. W?
Mr. W: Yeah, I guess.
DF: Great. Write down your number for MJS and she'll tell you when the classes are.

--------

MJS: Dear Friend, did I just agree to take dancing lessons?
DF: I'm afraid so. What happened to you?
MJS: The subjunctive.
DF: You are a freak.

Reading the Signs

It is a sign you take too many court appointments when one of your homeless clients is arrested for assaulting another of your homeless clients.

It is a sign you're in court too often when the security guards send their greetings via your runner because they didn't see you that day.

It is a sign you are burnt out on family law when you're in a settlement conference, and you think, "My client's soon-to-be-ex-husband is a fox. Why is she leaving him?"

It is a sign you live in a red state when you pass two pickups trucks in succession and one has a bumper sticker reading, "If you ate today - Hug a Farmer!" and the next has a bumper sticker reading, "Eat Lamb : 10,000 Coyotes Can't Be Wrong!"

It is a sign you've become a frizzy-haired spinster when the cats post messages on your blog.

It is a sign you're a creature of habit when your mailman comments on the fact that since you weren't parked in your usual spot, he wasn't sure if you came home for lunch.

It is a sign your case is a dog when your key witness won't admit that he doesn't speak English, and insists on acting out everything he witnessed.

It is a sign you've lost touch with reality when you give serious thought to writing an angry letter to GQ for making their models look ridiculous in the photo spreads. While pondering this, you are personally wearing a Marine Corps T-shirt, Izod track pants, and bumblebee flip-flops.

It is a sign you're elderly when you pass a female student wearing giant blue pants, and oversize white oxford, and a necktie and you think, "Is she here for CSU or Clown College?" As if that's not bad enough, you drive on muttering, "Heh. Clown College. Heh heh."

It is a sign you are a laugh whore when you confront someone about a joke you made the day before and ask them why they didn't laugh more. You find their response : "What? I laughed!" to be unsatisfactory.

It is a sign your client is not 100% trustworthy when the judge asks her if she has any other cases pending and she replies, "No." The judge's clerk politely makes note of the two pending felony cases from another jurisdiction, of which you were previously unaware.

It is a sign you are in deep denial when you consider the act of reading Runner's World magazine a workout. See also, the sad realization that your most recent 5K was nearly three years ago.

Last, and most important, it is a sign that it's time to leave work when you're screwing around making lists at 4pm rather than doing anything productive. Later!

The Good Old Days

"I am the luckiest son of a bitch in the world, I thought, contentedly staring out at all that silence and stillness, feeling, for the first time in a while, able to relax, to draw a breath unencumbered by scheming and calculating and worrying." - Anthony Bourdain

I know just how Tony feels. The last time I felt that way was about 8 years ago, in the middle of the desert in Utah, camped out in the center of nowhere. Late, late, later still at night, after the fire had burned down to embers and I had wrapped my sleeping bag around me to ward off the night air, it was still too bright to sleep. I stretched out under a canopy of stars I had studied in school, and glimpsed through the urban sky, but had never witnessed in the complete darkness that comes when the nearest electric light is a hundred miles away. I began to get sentimental, to grow nostalgic for the purity of the pre-industrial era. How wonderful it would be to live in harmony with nature, to take from the land what you need and restore what you can - to practice good stewardship over the natural world.

I expanded on this point to my camping buddy, who thoughtfully passed me a frosty beverage from the plastic cooler. "Nature," I said, warming to my subject, "what we need is..." I looked around. The cooler full of ice kept the beer and groceries cold. The wicking material of my shirt had kept me cool in the 100 degree heat of the day, and provided warmth in the 45 degree night. I was bundled in fifty years worth of research and development in the form of the sleeping bag. All of this so I could spout about nature. In the morning, we would pack our things and drive off, to acquire more ice in the desert.

Sensing a trend

Hot on the heels of my post about my Teen Dreem All-Star Teem, comes more serious thinking about hunting and trapping the North American male. Many techniques can be utilized to attack this wily predator. Here are some of my favorites. The fact that the following are my go-to strategies goes a loooong way towards explaining why my relationships have always been such a wild success.

1) Do nothing. This is for the faint of heart. Pros: No exposure to looking like a fool when the boy isn't interested. Con: Works best on boys who are both interested in you and psychic. Sadly for my wimpy self, it is a rare combination. However, if you enjoy a rich fantasy life, you can imagine the entire course of the pretend relationship in exhaustive detail. Eventually, Imaginary Boyfriend will do something that pisses you off, and you can have some closure with an Imaginary Breakup. Caution: your Land of Make-Believe may cause you to treat the actual human boy differently. For example, after the Imaginary Breakup, you may be angry with him in real life, and hold a grudge against his imaginary cheating ass forever.

2) Go with the flow. If a boy shows interest, and he doesn't make you actively ill, shrug and agree to date him. I have used this to great effect in the past, often allowing laziness and ennui to carry relationships for up to three years. Pro: There's someone around, which is nice. Con: Yeah, but it's him.

3) The Joe Namath. Of course, I haven't personally done this ever, but a friend of mine, um...Lurleen, she has a tendency to get loaded and be all, "I wanna kish yuuu". This has paid off for me, I mean Noreen or whatever her name was, on some occasions, but more often it leads to hangovers and regret. I've heard. Pro: Smooching is great. Con: It's too late to be ashamed when you've already shown yourself to be a shameless hussy.

4) Seething resentment. This is not for beginners. This is a complex strategy, involving subtle degradation of your crush's current girlfriend. You must not admit to disliking her directly, but you are encouraged to nurture your crush's grievances against Girlfriend until he comes to the realization that you, Ms. Perfect, have been right there for him all along. This type of behavior, while extremely rare in the actual world, happens all the time in movies. Feel free to watch the movies for pointers on getting him to realize he's in love with you. Caution: the airport scenes in nearly every romantic comedy should no longer be relied on. He can't come running to the gate to stop you just in time without being arrested. Pro: If it works, it's very cinematic. Con: It doesn't work.

That's all for today's lesson. The important thing to do is get out there and really make an effort. I cannot be held responsible for the restraining orders, heartbreak, or unwanted pregnancies that may result from following my advice.

13 Going On 30 Going On 47

Thanks to the fact that I accumulate frequent flyer miles on every airline every year, I never have enough to use them for anything. That's why, at least once a year, I get a notice from one or more of the airlines saying that my miles are getting ready to expire, but I can use them for magazine subscriptions if I want. Therefore, I get 50 magazines a day, none of which I pay for. The challenge is selecting from the rather limited list of mags. There are surprisingly few things I am interested in. It's all part of what makes me such a fascinating gal, I suppose.

All this is by way of saying that sometimes the daily magazines make me feel old and cranky and sometimes they make me feel young and awkward again. Yesterday, I was forced to confront both feelings at the same time. The new issue of Spin arrived, with "Death Cab for Cutie" on the cover. I freely admit that I don't know any of their songs, but as an old crank I still hate them. I hate their name so very much. It seems so precious to me. I hate the constant references to them on the O.C. I hated their picture on the cover. Wipe that smirk off your face and get a damn haircut. Meanwhile, the new issue of GQ arrived with Tom Brady on the cover. I immediately started practicing my new signature "Mrs. Tom Brady", "Mrs. Maureen Brady", "Ms. Maureen Smith-Brady". The last one was my favorite, as it allowed me to put a heart over the letter i. Man, if I were 13, every surface of my room would be covered in pictures of Tek, Brady, and Prince William. Now I feel dirty. In the bad way.

Speaking of dirty in the bad way, I got a flyer in the mail today for a Continuing Legal Education class entitled "Sex Offender Training: Don't Practice Without It!" I personally believe it's wrong to train sex offenders - most of them seem to do just fine even without outside help.

Dieting Assistance

Hello, this is Luisa. I wanted to report that I am helping my person get skinny, not that she appreciates it. Today for lunch, my person made tuna and put it on a green salad. Then she left the room. I naturally assumed that she had changed her mind about lunch, so I enjoyed a little snackie of my own. Doesn't she realize that thanks to me she avoided the calories of tuna salad and burned some more calories chasing me out of the kitchen and waving her arms around? Sometimes I don't know why I bother.

Dear Cyclists

Dear Mr. Bicycle Guy:

First, let me say, my hat is off to you for conserving gas, getting exercise, and preserving the environment by choosing your bike over a car. Second, your hat is also off, having flown quite impressively when I ran you over. You see, if you want to ride in the flow of traffic, you need to obey traffic signals like everyone else. I also don't recommend riding the wrong way down a one-way street. I don't look in that direction prior to crossing the street.

Some other tips: unless you and your companions are capable of pedaling at 40 mph, do not ride four abreast and shut down traffic. Darting into the street from between two parked cars is perhaps not a great idea.

Can you tell the students have moved back to Fort Fun? I really do support the bike people, because traffic is awful enough as it is. But don't give me the stink-eye when you take a sudden left turn in front of my car, and I have to slam the brakes to avoid you.

I'm extremely glad it's Friday, as I am apparently too cranky to be in public much longer. The lameness of this post is due in part to the fact that the really hilarious stuff happening today involves clients, so I can't discuss it. Y'all are missing out, though. Someday I will write a work of "fiction" and use all this material.

The Unlikeable Lawyer

Or, I'm OK, You're a Prick.

No post yesterday because I was at a required full day seminar entitled "The Likeable Lawyer". It would take more than one day to make most attorneys even remotely tolerable, so the program seemed overly ambitious. It was mostly a waste of time, but I didn't have to go to the office, so that was good. Dad was there in spirit. I was at a table of four women and two men. We needed to split into two groups of three for role-playing. One of the guys said, "Let's do girl-boy-girl for each group." One of the women said, "You mean women." Guy: "I said boy, too." There was an embarrassing incident when I hugged, cried, and wailed "I miss you Daddy!" Luckily, this was perceived as evidence that I was opening up and embracing my emotions. I was also embracing a stranger, so I returned to my seat.

The best thing about this seminar has been the reactions of everyone I tell about it. One of the secretaries came into my office this morning and stared at me quizzically.

Secretary: Something's different.
MJS: Are you messing with me at 730 in the morning?
S: It's your personality...it's sparkling!
MJS: I'll sparkle you!

All the staff proceeded to gather in my office to honk with laughter about the course. Thank God they're here or I would be on the roof with a shaved head and a gun. Note to law enforcement: ha ha. That is an example of the light-hearted humor I enjoy!

Things I learned at the seminar that were brand-new information, by virtue of the fact that the instructor made them up:

1) The book The Tipping Point was written by Malcolm Caldwell.

2) The conflict in the Middle East started in 1947.

3) If the Israelis and the Palestinians acknowledged one another's needs, they could resolve said conflict in about half an hour.

4) The American Revolution got started successfully because Paul Revere was such a swell guy. No word on whether the war was necessary or just the result of the British and their colonists failing to recognize one another's needs.

5) 95% of Americans are clinically narcissistic or have borderline personality disorder.

6) Bill Clinton is an ideal model of the behaviors this course was designed to teach.

At #6, I had officially checked out. My Pretend Dad said, "I do not view him as a role model." Another lady at the table agreed, suggesting that the instructor use different examples when in Fort Collins, Colorado. After that the instructor told a long winded story about a lawyer he knew who was a right-wing maniac, who met Clinton and got a picture with him, in which the normally stern lawyer was "blushing like a schoolgirl". Now openly mutinous, I volunteered that the blushing could be because he was mortified to have the encounter captured on film. All the other conservatives laughed. The lady who didn't want to be referred to as girl was getting increasing glare-y as things spiraled out of control.

I could go on, and probably will as the flashbacks start to come. So how did this post make you feel? Please share!

(Was that likeable or needy? If the instructor hadn't gotten that restraining order, I could ask him. How can I work on my intimacy issues from 500 feet away?)

What'd I miss?

Much like Sheila E., I want to live the glamorous life. Naturally, that includes lying on the couch watching C-SPAN from time to time. Wooo! Par-tay!! I'm thinking I must have dozed off, Rip van Winkle style, though, because the other day the dynamic network was showing footage of John Edwards harassing bemused New Hampshire residents. Perhaps this is a rerun? That would be strange. No, wait, this is current. As I stared at the gleaming teeth, the freeze-dried hair, the man-of-the-people rolled up shirtsleeves, I was stunned. This is August, 2005. We just got finished rejecting this guy. Take a hint! How can we miss you if you won't go away?

And it isn't just Edwards, either. Evidently the good people of Iowa are also under attack from legions of poorly coiffed hopefuls from both parties. When did this happen? I know I joke about Christmas displays being in stores in September, but campaigning for an election three years in the future? For an instant-gratification society, this is totally baffling.

I love me some C-SPAN, though. The announcer guy who reads off the lineup makes Garrison Keillor sound like Flava Flav. I suspect many unplanned naps result from prolonged exposure to this fellow. How great would it be to have Flav acting as "hype man" for C-SPAN, though? Hell, Snoop is working with Lee Iacocca - anything is possible.

Pathetic

It seems that Supreme Court nominee John Roberts really is squeaky clean, if this is the worst the left can come up with:

"Nefarious Ties
Harvard, the Federalist Society and other "subversive" affiliations. Wednesday, July 27, 2005 12:01 a.m. EDT Wall Street Journal
The reasons to worry about Supreme Court nominee John Roberts continue to accumulate. First we learned he attended Harvard, which is always suspicious. Then the New York Times informed us that his wife, who is also a Catholic lawyer, not only worked pro bono for Feminists for Life but has in the past "attended Mass several times a week." Holy mackerel.
Then yesterday brought the Washington Post's scoop that Judge Roberts may once have been a card-carrying member of the Federalist Society. Mr. Roberts has said that he doesn't recall belonging to the lawyers' outfit. But in the best tradition of Woodward and Bernstein, Post reporters dug through the society's "secret" enrollment lists and--there it was, in black and white, the name of John Roberts, member 1997-98. This news actually made page one.
The Post's exposé continues: "The Federalist Society was founded in 1982 by conservatives who disagreed with what they saw as a leftist tilt in the nation's law schools. The group sponsors legal symposia and similar activities and serves as a network for rising conservative lawyers." That's a subversive group if there ever was one, not least because we've seen with our own eyes that representatives of the ACLU have sometimes attended these public "symposia," and without disguising their identities.
We don't know whether these news stories illustrate the desperation of liberals who can't find any real mud to throw at Judge Roberts, or whether they've been planted by the White House to make liberals look silly. Come to think of it, liberals these days don't need any White House help."

I know this article is a few weeks old, but I only came across it when I was looking at the Federalist Society page today. You can probably guess how amusing they find all this. If you poke around on their webpage, you'll see all kinds of advertisements for their symposia, the guest speakers for which include judges, senator, law professors, authors, practicing attorneys, leaders of non-profits and think tanks, and about anyone else who is interested in issues of Constitutional interpretation. To characterize it as some secret society is patently ridiculous.

Sometimes you're the mouse...

....sometimes you're the ceiling tile. My coworker's husband came to work on Monday morning, and outside his cubicle he found this:





Apparently, Ralph the Motorcycle Mouse here was running along the air ducts, knocked a tile loose, and fell with the tile right on top of him. Given my personal views on rodentia and the advisability of letting them live, I couldn't be happier about this story. Of course, because it was Monday morning in cubicle land, there were lots of Office Space-worthy "Monday jokes" flying about.

The best part of this picture is that the ceiling tile is imprinted with the word "SAFE". I'm representing the family of the mouse and suing the manufacturer for false advertising - Ralph would never have run across the tile if he's known it wasn't, in fact, "safe".

SHHHH!!

On Wednesday night, I go to Weight Watchers with my friend Allison. The lady at the front desk couldn't be any nicer, but she talks incredibly loud. Normally this is fine, because she is confined to the front, sharing harmless thoughts like, "I SWEAR WHEN I SAW THOSE CLOUDS I THOUGHT WE'D GET SOME RAIN, BUT I GUESS NOT!" This is not a problem, although it does cause me to shout back at her for reasons unknown even to me. I want her to feel comfortable about the yelling, so I imitate her behavior? I don't know.

This week, the WW was short-handed, which means Shouty was taking weights. I was fully across the room when I heard her tell someone, "SO YOU'RE DOWN 2 POUNDS!" I was transfixed. The entire room could hear every last word of what I consider to be a private moment on par with going to confession. ("ADULTERY, YOU SAY? WITH THE NEIGHBOR?")

I knew without a doubt that I was going to end up with her. And yes, I did. She proceeded to talk in great detail about my weight, my food consumption, etc at full volume. I tried whispering my responses in hopes of making her realize that we were standing six inches apart and could communicate effectively at very low volumes. Nothing doing, of course, but she could clearly hear me, so she's not yelling because she's hard of hearing. It is a mystery.

Ye Olde Tyme

Yes, we found the uniforms okay, but I really don't think there's time to grow a handlebar mustache before the game.

Yoga-cat-es

I've started doing Yogilates DVDs on the privacy of my home, with all the curtains drawn. I wouldn't want to traumatize the children in the neighborhood. The leader of these videos is an Australian lady with waist-long braids, a chirpy voice, and the unblinking stare of a cult member. She, unlike me, is not burdened with an ounce of body fat, bones, tendons, a working relationship with gravity, or good sense. "Now, remaining balanced on the point of your elbow, put one foot on the ceiling and the other flat on the ground in front of you. And don't forget to connect your navel to the base of your spine!" I couldn't connect my navel to the base of my spine with a stapler. She's obviously insane, but I keep trying to follow her instructions as if she's talking sense.

What I'm getting at, if you haven't guessed, is that all by myself, I am the least graceful person ever to attempt these exercises. Unfortunately, I am not alone in my attempts. The cats, fearing for my safety, intervene constantly in my routine. I think what upsets them is the fact that part of the video involves lying on the ground. This enrages Luisa, who sees an opportunity to attack my head, grab onto my hair, stick her paws in my ears, and generally disrupt the calming grooviness this workout is meant to inspire. I suppose the only other times I'm ever lying on the floor are more or less involuntary, and involve end-stage drunkenness, so I wouldn't be aware of the feline assault.

Loki remains mostly neutral while all this is going on. Every so often he lifts his head from the couch and tells Luisa to relax - that I'll be lying on the couch smoking in a matter of moments. He is more dignified in general, and focuses his sabotage by doing things like lying down behind me on the yoga mat so I step on his tail, then acting as though I am trying to kill him, instead of the other way around. Don't these people know that if they cripple me, I won't be able to make money to support their lifestyle?

Losing my touch

Well, I haven't really been able to post this past week because my secretary has been on vacation. This means I spend my days doing things like typing cover letters, which take me forever, and answering my own phone, which is the worst thing ever. I'm thinking of buying my assistant flowers and making her promise never to leave again.

I tell you, I'm just not exploiting the workers like I used to. They gallivant around on vacation - I haven't fired anyone in ages - I'm just not myself. I used to keep my high heels on the throat of the working man. Now I'm lucky if I can make time to terrorize the receptionist.

Postscript to the last entry...I talked to my friend who asked me to read the poetry. Turns out that particular volume was written at the end of the guy's life when he was all crazy from the booze, and it's totally incomprehensible. I got alternate recommendations, which I will work on this week. I don't know why it's bothering me so much, but I am determined to make an effort to read these stupid poems.

I m dum

I got a "homework assignment" last weekend, to go and read a certain poet. Like a good kid, I went to the library on Sunday and plunked down in a chair to read. The volume was very slim, and I started to read through it the same way I read everything else - as though this is Mission Impossible, and what I'm reading may combust at any moment and it's my job to digest the information as quickly as possible.

Turns out you can't read poetry this way. I was an English major at one point, and I remember being able to write thirty-page papers on eight lines of poetry without batting an eyelash. Them days is gone, friends. I have long suspected that I'm getting stupider each year, and on Sunday I could feel myself getting stupider each minute. I had no idea what I was reading. It could have been in another language, for all the sense I made of it.

This is tragic. It was one thing when I realized that calculus had permanently left my brain, but I always thought I would have literature. So instead I brought the "His Dark Materials" trilogy to the check-out and got the heck out of there. By the way - that's a great series if you haven't read it. Just don't ask me for poetry recommendations.