Adventures of The Yellow Peril

OXYMORON MORON

I managed to lock myself out of the house today with the TV on and corn boiling on the stove. 

I managed to lock myself out of the house today without my cell phone or shoes.

I traipsed around the garage for about fifteen minutes, cursing my stupidity and trying to find a way back in.  I bent a paper clip on the lock, Inspector Gadget-style, and discovered that I am terrible at picking locks.

I finally left the garage, remembering that a spare key was available up the street at a neighbor's house.  I couldn't remember which neighbor it was, and since I didn't have my cell phone, calling was out of the question.  Again, I was also not wearing shoes and didn't want the entire neighborhood to know that the hick from South Carolina had done gone locked herself out of the effing house for the second time since moving in.

By minute 18, I was standing in front of the house, wondering why anyone would have security rivaling a lockdown at the NSA.  I dropped the F-bomb, loudly and twice.

Then, I remembered that earlier that day, I'd left the front door unlocked.  I'd figured that I'd leave the house to take out the trash and go for a walk, and because the number of locks on this house truly baffles me, I'd done it deliberately to avoid such a situation.  How I managed to forget this minor detail for 21 minutes now escapes me.  I scampered up to the front door, held my breath, turned the knob, and ... voila.  The corn was drying out in the pot, but otherwise still salvagable.  The TV was blaring "My Super Sweet Sixteen," which would have been mildly embarrassing, had I actually needed the neighbors' spare.  I don't need the entire street to know that I have the cultural tastes of a preteen.

In conclusion, I am an idiot.  The only comfort I have is that in 27 years, I have become an idiot with built-in safeguards. 

At least I think.

HIT ME AGAIN

We're running another 10K on Saturday.  With 4,000 other legal professionals.  It starts and finishes at a harbor.

Insert lawyers-at-the-bottom-of-the-river joke here.

GENIE IN A BOTTLE

I'm going to start off by telling you that, as I sat in traffic on Tuesday, I thought to myself, "Man, if I had three wishes right now, one of them would be to hear Nick Lachey's 'What's Left of Me.'"  Not my proudest moment, I know.  In fact, it's usually one of those things you'd just keep to yourself.

But then -- but then -- it came on the radio not 5 seconds later.  This development, of course, led me to the logical conclusion that I only have 2 wishes left.  Whoever my genie is, he decided at the absolute worst moment that Tuesday was the day my wishes would begin.  God. Damn. It.

So, ever since then, I've been careful.  I haven't wished for a lot of things that I usually otherwise would, like the ceviche at Cafe Citron to not taste like lime-marinated ass, or that I could be seven feet tall so I could reach that bottle of Grey Goose.  I'll probably use one of my wishes on passing the bar without having to try very hard, seeing as my study habits currently consist mostly of eating really fattening foods and drinking excessively.  They say that the fear of failing the bar prompts you to study like you've never studied before, but for some reason right now the only thing I have going for me is the irresistible urge to go out and sear some ahi tuna or cover my face in the caramel sauce on the French toast at Logan Tavern.

I'm not sure what the last wish would be.  Most likely, it would involve money.  I know, it's incredibly tacky and generic, but hey, as you've clearly seen from the above discussion, a girl's gotta eat.  If I had some sort of system where I had a "minor" wish, like something I could just wish for without having to actually spend one of my two remaining wishes, it would be to have a week like I've just had.  Guys, I had no idea that when I moved here, there'd be some of the best people from Austin here, too.  It's like when the cast of "Friends" went to London.  Same great people, new location, and ample opportunity to mock the British.

For example, tonight I drank caprinhas on J's rooftop and ate Ethiopian food with WG and J.  Sidenote: combined with JH, having J here makes me feel like I have actual family here.  Of course, I had to refrain from making the obvious jokes ("Do they even have food in Ethiopia?"  "What am I getting there?  Beans and tepid water?").  I didn't want to go to hell any faster than I already am, you know.  It turns out that I'm a big fan of the cuisine.  I'm convinced that there's even better Ethiopian food to be had, so I'm going to go to trusty Google to figure that out in the next few days.  I like the concept of eating without silverware, off of one gi-mongous plate lined with spongy bread that everyone else shares with you.  I think I might start doing that all the time.  Except instead of one big plate for everyone, it will just be one big plate...for me.  And spongy bread is great for absorbing sauces, which makes it an excellent medium for me to be carrying around in my day bag.  You know, just in case I run into some mole, or curry, or, gosh, I don't know, some sauce I haven't even heard of yet.

In other news, the Iowa kids are turning out to be good fun, and it's been great hanging out with high school friends again in addition to the Texas people.  I saw a truly horrendous movie this week, "Keeping Up With The Steins."  If you really hate someone that you can't get rid of, buy them a ticket to the movie.  I promise you they'll get the point and leave you alone.  I mean, seriously, you know it's a bad movie when Neil Diamond shows up at the end to sing his rendition of "Hava Nagila," and you get excited.  Even the sight of Jeremy Piven's abs didn't do enough to save this movie, and he has surprisingly good abs. 

And lastly, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to pass the bar.  See above.

I FEEL YOU, MAN

I finally found something I have in common with Puerto Rico.  I may have a salary come September, but until then, I wish I knew how to survive on bologna and cereal.

Sadly, I can't live without forme d'ambert and fig spread.  Or crusty bread.  Or seared foie gras. 

CONGRATULATIONS!

I've also been meaning to do this for weeks, so here goes...

To PH and his fiancee, for getting engaged.  He said he got dressed up in a gorilla suit, snuck up behind her, and yelled, "I'm bananas for you!"  Would've been cool if he'd actually done that, but somehow I'm sure he was subtler than that.

To my friends E & J, who produced this beautiful little boy:

To M, for not picking out a bad bridesmaid's dress for me to wear in September.  I would've worn a burlap sack for you, but the fact that I'm not going to look like a Christmas ornament has earned you my eternal gratitude.

To Blogazon, who won a scholarship that gives him cash money.  That's awesome.

To GHB, for surviving the night.  Any day, any time, J and I will be here for you.

To my sister, who, because of my impending visit, is about to eat the most amazing food here and here.  Omakase!  Bon appetit!

TO DON'T LIST

I spilled salad all over the floor.  Salad that I was about to eat.  I didn't manage to save a single leaf.

I left a pen uncapped on my bed, leaving two huge black ink stains.  I tried to Shout it out like they say in the commercial, and now there's just a huge gray mess on my duvet cover.

I made an application for next year's mentor program and e-mailed it to the director of the program, but then I forgot to attach it.  The problem is, the application is saved on the computer in the mentor office, so I'm holding things up because I can't send it to her right now.

I keep forgetting that I'm on my undergrad's alumni committee, and they want me to sort through this database to find people I wouldn't mind contacting to ask for money.  When I went through the list though, I couldn't remember anyone.  Also, I'm on the 2001 committee, even though I graduated a year early in 2000.  They put me on that committee, too. 

I fell behind in my clinic work, which meant that I spent all day yesterday reading and responding to letters from inmates.  The letters they wrote me smell funny.  Is that what jail smells like?

I'm not sure where my pants went.  I put them on last night before I went to bed, and now I can't find them. 

I have two pimples on my forehead that make me feel like I'm 13 again.  I might as well have braces and gawky limbs, too.  In an awesome paradox, TWC found a gray hair on my head yesterday. 

I have bought three disappointing cheeses in the last week.  Even the sharp Cheddar, which should be the no-brainer decent choice, tastes kind of like clay and asparagus.

Sigh.

DETOX WEEKEND

In anticipation of the crazy times ahead of me, I'm taking this weekend easy.  At least, I hope so.  I'm going to Freddie's tonight to play washers, which I've been informed is a true hick sport.  This excites me because of my South Carolinian roots.  I anticipate that I will be really, really good at it, since some of my high school activities included greased pig runs and cowpie bingo.

Before the inner hick comes out, I am playing wiffle ball with the mentor group.  It's currently freezing and wet outside, so I'm not really sure whether it's actually going to happen.  My sense is that, somehow, my mentor group will still find their way over here to consume not an insignificant number of beers, then somehow try to peer pressure me into going out with them.  Knowing me, it'll probably work.

On Sunday, I'm going to cheer ES on at her first attempt at a marathon.  Seriously, this girl's pretty amazing.  Here I am, feeling all fancy because I'm going to run six miles in April (April, which is so, so incredibly far away) and I know she can do four times that and still beat me across the finish line.  Sadly, genetics has deprived me of speed.  When it comes to physical attributes, I inherited a layer of fat, an incredible appetite, and poor eyesight.  Thanks, Mom and Dad.

Next week, expect many hilarious posts.  If I'm feeling nice, they'll include comments from my guest, Chuff.  He claims he's coming to visit me, but I'm pretty sure this visit is more about booze and the honeys.  I'm also expecting the cosmos to realign so that MTV will show something horrifically awkward, like gawky, teenage unrequited love, which will result in the two of us convulsing with laughter even though we'll both be incredibly hungover.  It's kind of like a hobby of ours.

I HEART SUSHI

Maybe it was because I'm Asian.  Maybe it was because it was my birthday, and I had my She-Ra belt on.  Or, maybe they saw that we were well on our way to getting drunk and figured a little sumpin' sumpin' to grease the wheels of an enormous tip would serve their interests well.

In any event, this photo is the evidence that Maiko is the best sushi restaurant in town.  See all those empty glasses?  Each used to contain a sake bomb, free for all of us.

For those of you who dropped by at some point last night to make sure I actually made it to 27, thanks, guys.  You made turning 27 good, hilarious fun.

Now, onto actually being and acting 27...

(TWENTY) SEVENTH HEAVEN

It would be best if we all don't talk about the fact that I'm turning another year older on Saturday.

I have already made the necessary preparations.  Per annual tradition, I have bought a new facial cleanser (oil-free plus anti-aging, as I have every year since I turned 24).  I have stretched myself across my yoga ball for a period of not less than thirty minutes per evening, moaning softly while watching old episodes of "Friends" (did you know I am now solidly their age, circa Season 5?  SEASON 5!  We're not even talking about the super-old episodes where their hair was solidly early '90s).  I have rented movies about coming-of-age (although "The Blue Lagoon" still weirds me out).  I have eaten an entire block of Asiago cheese.

This year's theme to my birthday will be "How Drunk Was She?" (in a vote conducted among eligible voters*, it won against "Under the Sea").  I want people to say this all day on Sunday as we lay in a pile watching old episodes of "Sex and the City" (again, voters* favor it over "O.C." and "Friends").  I hope that people will not say this upon my arrival at my birthday party, as I will have spent the previous few hours doing sake bombs and eating sushi with my nearest and dearest friends.  I promise not to remove my pants before the ball drops. 

Yeah.  I don't know what that really means, I just think it's funny to say.

See you at Light Bar on Saturday!

* eligible voters consisted of me, and oh, me.

PS - Shout out to T on being awesome for planning my party and dealing with me as I explode Law Week all over the place.  If I were a teenager and this were high school, I'd be that girl who was cutting thousands of tiny little squares of tissue paper for the Homecoming float right now, all the while yelling "RHS RULES!"

PPS - I was that girl.

PERIL TALK DRUNK

I'm a little tipsy right now, which makes this post especially challenging.

My week thus far can be summed up in the following phrases:

- Had a Chinese New Year party, made dumplings, drank wine with the gay boys;

- Got pissed off at Cheaptickets.com and the MPRE, which required me to change the dates of my European sojourn to March 12-20 (readjust accordingly, EU, because I'm about to do major damage to your economy in the form of cheese purchases)  Yes, JH, I will take the same goddamned bar as you (see: retake of MPRE when otherwise unnecessary).  Cool out.

- Got pissed off at 24 Hour Fitness in Seattle, Washington, for a litany of reasons, mainly stemming from their continued charge on my credit card.  Also, I am angry because it's been 6 months and my abs are still mushy.  Although  I guess it would be highly unattractive for me to be washboard-like.  Ew.

- Had a woman who claimed she wasn't gay sniff my boobs.  Not by choice.  She said I "smelled real good," then leaned in for a whiff.  Major violation of personal space, makes me more uncomfortable than the time I went to Hoedowns, the gay country-western bar in ATL, and a woman asked me to two-step.

- Saw someone take a nametag I picked up off the ground and put it in her mouth.  This was followed by a dude drinking out of said girl's boot.  Probably one of the grossest 5 minutes I've lived in my life.

- Gave Turkey my sister's phone number, in hopes they will call and 1) ask her for a date; and 2) give her bird flu.

- Felt bad for soldado23, who is possibly the world's unluckiest bastard.  Re: sudden unemployment during 2nd semester 3L year.  Hope the fact that I love you to bits helps ease the pain.  If not, I've got this great trugole Italian cheese you must try.

Well, that's about it.  The other news is that you should come home with me for Easter.  Papa and Mama Peril are expecting you, and they want to make you happy with oodles of food.  It will be glorious.