Adventures of The Yellow Peril

CRUSH OVER

As soon as I tried to find out whether he was single, I hit a motherload of Flay-haters.  Maybe my dream was about someone else, like Gina DeLaurentis...

ROAD WARRIORS

In just two short days, my youngest sister and I will be heading to Atlanta to ring in the new year.  We're stocking up on supplies today, which I anticipate will include the following:

- 1 bottle of Jagermeister (this, apparently, is very important for the young'uns who will be in attendance at Meg's party);

- 1 bottle of Disaronno, because I like my drinks like I like my guy friends: girly and a little sour;

- 1 half-handle of vodka, found in my parents' pantry.  What happened to the other half?  I think it's because Chuck Norris roundhouse-kicked my dad in the face.  That's why he drinks.

- 1 large salmon filet, to be prepared upon arrival at Meg's;

- 1 prepared package of spices, to be determined today (either ranch sauce with dried blueberries or Italian seasoning with lime and cilantro);

- Cheese, for eating.  (Sidenote: Bobby Flay is my new crush.  I had this dream about him rescuing me in a helicopter and flying me to his Mesa Grill for this uber-meal. I haven't stopped thinking about him since.  Anyway, his show this morning featured many uses for cheese, including carmelized onion and Camembert quesadillas, blue cheese on grilled filet mignon dressed with an ancho chile sauce, and fresh ricotta with orange marmalade.  Dios mio.  He might as well have laid down naked on a table decorated in a slab of goat cheese.  The things I'd do to him are criminal.)

- 1 bottle of Toasted Head Chardonnay.  GHB introduced me to it, and I love it.  Well, I love him, and the wine, well, it's a close second.

- 1 Really Awesome New Year's Outfit.  There are several requirements to being Really Awesome: 1) the outfit must not be complicated with what I call "too much"; 2) the outfit must absorb spills without showing (for when drunky Peril comes out to play); 3) the outfit must enhance, not compete with, my mischievous yet vulnerable good looks.  The search will commence this afternoon.

- Snacks.  As everyone in my family well knows, there's no way I could make a 5-hour trip from Chas to Atlanta and not get a little food in my belly.  Okay, a lot of food in my belly.  Whatev.  Quit judging.

- Some other side dish, to be prepared at Meg's.

- My skinny self.  Because I have to try on a bridesmaids' dress on Saturday, and I can't be looking soft around the edges. 

I'll probably be blogging light until after the New Year, when I'll post my famous "attainable" New Year's resolutions.  Of course, my 2004 resolution to "vacuum" was resolved when I simply moved.  Hey, no one said I couldn't bend the rules.

DRINKIN' WITH THE SISTERS

"Big John's is a total dive.  Just going in there will make you feel dirty."

"Is that a confederate flag tacked to the ceiling?"

"I guess it's okay, since they've got a British one right next to it."

"Oh."

"Dude, that guy's friend looks like she's forty."

"She's your age."

"Fat people make me sad.  Sometimes angry, but mostly sad."

"Dollar Pabst.  Can't beat that."

"This two-dollar vodka seabreeze tastes like it could take the tar off my tires."

"I'm done with my beers."

(immediately after the last statement) "Let's go."

HOLIDAY...CELEBRATE

I'm finished with exams, the turducken made it to SC safely tucked into my carry-on, and I've spent the first 24 hours back introducing my sisters and mom to the wonder that is "The O.C."  You hate to love it, you love to hate it.  It's a vicious cycle.

Anyway, I hope you all have a good holiday.  Mine will be filled with eating, seeing people, and selecting four people to be on the committee for the law school dean search.  Don't be jealous -- it's going to be tough because so many great people have applied.  Seriously.

Happy holidays!

COMING TO

On CNN.com just now:

"SBA President Yellow Peril is wheeled into the Wills exam where she is described as being conscious but confused."

Okay, so not really.  They're talking about Ariel Sharon and the hospital, but as far as I'm concerned, it's tomato, tomahto.  That statement is exactly how I feel about that stupid exam.  I feel so used, so ... empty.  It's taken me a day and a half to recover -- longer than a hangover, shorter than one of my "I think I'm dying" colds.  In the process of recovery, I've purchased a new eye cream (to get rid of the signs of aging, which are, no doubt, highly visible now), a bottle of champagne, cheese, and a lobster.  I named him Pinchy, and we were going to be friends, until he started flailing his tail around and it scared me.  Pinchy and I wrestled in the sink yesterday until, exhausted, I flung the beast into the steamer.  No more friend.  Just food.

Since I already had dinner plans, I just snacked on Pinchy, and I saved the rest of him for tonight.  I've made horseradish mashed potatoes in anticipation of this glorious event, and I plan on stacking the mash and lobster, then garnishing with a beurre-blanc sauce and a healthy sprinkling of freshly-snipped chives.  It will be a brief, shining moment in an otherwise horrific day of studying for my last exam (besides the Hula Hut and Uchi dinners I had this weekend, of course.  The company was excellent).

On Tuesday, I'm flying back to SC with a turducken as my carry-on.  It's my Christmas present to my dad.  You people may call this crazy, but I call it good sense.  Would you check your engagement ring or your new laptop?  I didn't think so.

I HEART GAY COWBOYS

I did it.  I saw "Brokeback Mountain" last night with friends and members of OUTLaw.

Since it was an advanced screening, we had to wait in line for about an hour to get in (hey, when it comes to getting something for free, I have all the time in the world).  J, my beard for the night, was slightly agitated that he didn't get to go to the first advanced screening that was held last week, and that we had to wait.  "It's like they let all the first-tier and premiere gays go to the movie first, and now all us scrubs get to see it.  What am I, chopped liver?"

"Yeah, but just think.  You could totally meet someone to date here -- all the guys here are gay!"  I responded.

J was only slightly comforted by this notion as we scanned the room together and discovered that gay and lesbian groups from all the different grad schools on campus seemed to be congregated into one massive line.  He shot me a Look (been getting a lot of those lately, with a lot of different meanings).  "Great," he muttered.  "All of my dating prospects in Austin are here.  How would you feel if you knew that everyone in your entire universe of dating possibilities was sitting here, right this second?"

Point taken. 

As for the movie, I fully expected to inappropriately giggle several times during the movie, especially during the highly-publicized sex scene.  Let me tell you a thing or two -- that scene shocked the pants off of me.  I mean, I have many, many gay friends.  I know that gay people have hot man sex.  What I didn't know -- and have never thought about -- was what man sex actually looks like in a tent 5,000 feet above sea level. 

Now I do.

To be honest though, the movie was phenomenal.  I'd said earlier that Phillip Seymour Hoffman was totally going to take the Oscar for "Capote," but now I'm not so sure.  Heath Ledger, beyond my wildest expectations, was unbelievable in this film.  Also, despite the graphic man sex, by the end of the movie, I'd totally forgotten that it was a story about gay cowboys and much more about love.  For real. 

Also, I learned that every time two gay men have sex, a sheep dies.

WE SHARE ONE BRAIN. IT'S ALSO HALF THE SIZE OF EVERYONE ELSE'S.

Just when you thought I was the only semi-retarded law student here at the law school, turns out I'm not alone.  When we found out that, in addition to a common ancestry, we shared this in common, we high-fived each other...and missed.  Scroll down to the bottom of the article.

FIRST EVER GUEST SPOT

Because he won't shut up already about it otherwise, here's Chuff's response to my "Struggleville" post the other day:

Look, I refused to be disparaged on this website. Yes, I should be mentioned more often, but not in the flippant and disrespectful manner you have chosen. You see, every so often a man comes along in this world that not only inspires, but teaches those around him. A man that has the knowledge of 1000 Chinamen. Not just ordinary Chinamen, but the really smart ones that spend lots of time alone on mountain tops. Kind of like Mr. Miyagi. Though I think he was Japanese. A man that comes from where rainbows come from. And to you, whoever is reading this, that man is, well, that man is me. You see, I am a lawyer and a poet. I am a lover and a philosopher. My beauty can make a sunset cry with joy. I can speak in Braille. I have a personal relationship with the wind and have the ability to calm jittery squirrels. I have the passion of an immigrant. I am special. You are all going to love me. But back off guys, I’m not gay. I’m strictly here for the ladies. I have a tongue like an anteater. I am also talented. I invented a stick that you can hit sheep with. I have looked death in the face, told him a joke about Michael Jackson and R. Kelly running a daycare -- he let me go. I eat steak. I came up with New Coke (not everything I do is great). I’ve gotten aroused while eating a ham and cheese sandwich. So you see, the words of the Yellow Peril do not in any way describe me. I make awesome look easy. Soon you will know this for yourself.

So there you go, Chuff.  Enjoy your fifteen minutes. 

I AM A DISRUPTIVE HUMAN

In the midst of all the 1L-freaking out that is going on in the library, I have:

- Rearranged 4 chairs (sitting in each one to determine optimum comfort level, squeakiness factor, and pimp-ness, which is measured by the angle of the chair back when I lean back).  I subsequently rolled the perfect chair 15 feet back to my table, bumping into a girl's leg on the way.  She gave me a Look, but she has a Louis Vuitton tote, so I gave her a Look.  Of Jealousy.

- Brought a grocery sack full of snacks, including 3 clementines, a banana, a Nutri-Grain bar, a yogurt smoothie, a turkey sandwich wrapped in foil, and caramelized walnuts in a plastic tub.  Note that almost all of these snacks require some kind of noise or preparation in consuming them.  The caramelized walnuts are probably the loudest, as they rattle around in the plastic tub, especially when I'm rooting around to find the biggest walnut.  I have received exactly 2 dirty looks and 1 exasperated, "are you kidding me?" glance as a result of this behavior.

- Used the phrase "Eleventy billion forty hundred thousand" when referring to exactly how many Chinese people were in federal court the day I went to observe.  I'm not sure how this makes me disruptive, as I was in the SBA office at the time.  Rather, I'm pretty sure it made me sound idiotic, but you know what?  There are eleventy billion forty hundred thousand threeteen people in China, so you can suck it.  (Speaking of sucking, my sister the other day hurled a great insult at me: "The limit of Yellow Peril as she approaches sucking is infinity."  My response: "Oh yeah?  When spring comes and your ball of suck melts, call me."  I love my family.)

- While listening to Christmas music, I accidentally sang two lines to Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas" out loud.  It wouldn't have been so embarrassing if it weren't for the fact that the second line was punctuated by the loud ringing of my cell phone, thus doubling the amount of attention cast my direction.

Anyway, I wish I had more interesting things to tell you, but the only other thing going on for me besides studying is that I am going with a bunch of my gay friends to see "Brokeback Mountain" on Wednesday night.  Again, this would not be an exciting development were it not for the fact that 1) the mere idea of gay cowboys makes me giggle, thus ensuring that I will laugh inappropriately at least thrice during the movie; 2) it's a free advance screening; and 3) I am not a member of OUTLaw, and it is the second OUTLaw event I've been invited to. 

Wait, do they think I'm a lesbian?  Ha, they'd only be so lucky. 

STRUGGLEVILLE

Let me tell you about all the things that have happened to me:

Dorkus McCorkus
I'm sitting in the library right now trying to study for my Wills exam, and I just got a nosebleed.  My body is physically rejecting the idea that I have to study.  I'm pretty sure this qualifies me as the official 2005 Dorkiest Girl Alive.  I deserve this award especially because I went to the bathroom, got an enormous wad of toilet paper to shove up my nose, and came back to type this post.  Sure, there's judgment coming from the other library patrons, but you know what?  They're just going to have to suck it up and live with a little blood.

Alright in Person, Semi-Retarded in Print
Earlier this week, I was interviewed over the phone for the San Antonio newspaper.  The interviewer wanted to know what I thought about our law school dean's recent appointment as president of the university.  We chatted for about 20 minutes, and I said all kinds of wonderfully illuminating things, like "Dean Powers has been really instrumental in building the national reputation of the law school, and I look forward to seeing him continuing that role with the university as a whole," and "Dean Powers is a charismatic leader who has done an outstanding job overall with the law school."  Near the end of the conversation, the journalist said, "It sounds like you really like Dean Powers," and I offered a joke in response.  Here it is -- read the last line.

Facebook This Date
Okay, so this didn't technically happen to me, but it's just another feather to add in the cap of Disastrous Dates (see "Hibidy Jibidy," below).  My sister got set up with this guy who turned out to be a sex offender.  For reals.  And she only found out because some friend was randomly searching the site for a coworker (which has creepy written all over it in and of itself, but that's a whole 'nother bag of enchiladas I'm not wanting to touch right now).  Anyway, if you get tired of facebook stalking your newest crush (aka, me), then hop on over to your local sex offender registry and take a gander at these.  It's good, scary fun.

I Didn't Want to Go Anyway
Total lie, by the way.  I just found out that we didn't get tickets to the Rose Bowl.  I don't understand how our priority didn't get us those tickets, because even though the undergrad seniors get first pick, I'm practically a senior.  I procrastinate like a senior.  I drink like a senior.  I feel like a senior.  What's the problem here?

Gratuitous Chuff Reference
Seems my pal Chuff, who I met through an ex-girlfriend of his while I was studying in London (figure that one out), has his panties all in a twist because I don't talk about him enough on the blog.  Devoted readers should know right now the reason why talking about Chuff is frequently inappropriate is because Chuff's behavior, rightly or wrongly, is dirty.  I will admit that having him in my life for the past four (!) years has added a heightened degree of hilarity to my life, but dude, if I post any of the stories of his life on here, Google and some dirty old men are going to have a field day on my site.

When Life Hands You Lemons...
How sad has my life become when someone leaves me a comment on my blog linking my site to a photo of gay old-man porn, and I can only narrow it down to one of five people who are the potential perpetrators: D. Ro (primary suspect), Chuff (aforementioned), Soldado23 (although his risk-averse personality seems to preclude this, let me remind you that he once sent me an unmarked, unsigned letter telling me all of my communications were being monitored and that I was being watched -- and I only figured out after I had called the cops that it was all a joke), Big Gay S, Sweet P (although, having not hung out with him in awhile, this seems to be a very remote suspect), or one of my sister's scraggly-assed friends (yes, I have a specific one in mind, and his name rhymes with "Megarty.").  Someone best come forward, or I am punking all of you.  Immediately.