Why you never had a chance.

To give a majority of people not in school credit, generally when you say you're in finals mode it means the degree of stress rises. Furthermore, it means that the student in finals mode wants to procrastinate but doesn't have time to deal with stupid questions. Among the favorites are: Why are you so stressed out? How much longer do you have?

But a new conversation I had recently sparks the topic of today's post:

Boy: Hey hey
Me: hey
Boy: Hows life?
Me: stressful
Boy: why so
Me: finals start on monday
Boy: law school?

Ok. For background purposes, I would like everyone to know that I met this boy through my bff in SF. . . when we were out celebrating my return to CA for law school. For some reason, we sporadically kept in touch through AIM. If you MET me while we were celebrating my decision to go to law school and we KEEP IN TOUCH on a somewhat regular basis, WHY, WHY would you ask if my FINALS were for Law School? I mean I know this guy could potentially talk to a million girls, but come on.

Boy: Hows the love life?
me: ?
Boy: ?
me: i dont understand the question
Boy: Hows your love life?

Now, again, let's discuss the importance behind stupid questions. I know, perhaps I shouldn't be irresponsibly on AIM - especially during finals. But let's be honest. I've spent all semester hiding in books and avoiding people like him. Really? Love life? Relevance? What? Who ARE you!? a.) of all, why do you care? b.) of all, if you're going to tell me that yours is awesome (and he did) what is the purpose of even asking me when you overtly hit on me every time we had previously talked? and c.) of all, REALLY? I'm in mother fucking law school. What the fuck do you think I do here? Look for husbands? I sit in class and not read over 5,000 pages of text to learn the law in order to bat my eyes and lower my shirt at some douchebag in my class? No thank you.

Hi my name is... and I have a Facebook addiction.

It has been noted in my family that my little sisters and I have fixation problems. In some cases, fixation can be a good thing. For example, my baby sister has a fixation with beating our other sister and myself academically so she works harder. Please note that fixation in this context is interchangeable with competition. In other cases, it can be a weird thing. For example, when I was 13, I began to have a torrid and obssessive love for Hanson. (More on that at another time). I had binders and websites made in homage to my favorite bands. If you knew me back then, there was not a single wall space uncovered thanks to Hanson posters. I slept, ate, dreamt Hanson.

But now, as a brand new 25 year old, I find myself trying to find ways to restrict a horrible obsession as I enter the two weeks before finals period: Facebook. Now for the past year and a half, I've been known to have increased facebook activity, such as, but not limited to, wall posting, birthday wishing, and picture commenting. Generally, each post left has the phrase "miss you!" I tend to think that the sentiment is returned in some way, shape or form. But what happens when the obsession has you stumbling across a wall post that is passive aggressively (or even overtly) directed at you? Should you shrink back in shame that you, a facebook addict, have finetuned your fb stalking abilities to come across the mean sentiment in a public forum? Or should you feign indignance at the thought of a mean spirited "friend" by de-friending them; or even better, putting them on limited profile status so you can still see their shit talking but they can't see anything on your profile?

I mean really? What is it about me that is so easy to make jabs at? I mean come on, its not like I wouldn't see it. So what if over a year ago I thought that it was funny to title an email after a person's insane personality or to wish someone happy birthday from California or put up a status message about how I'm currently feeling (e.g. "What now, Angelica?" See post dated 11/11/2008). Is it really necessary to be a jackass about it?

Oh, and I decided to restrict them (some a long time ago) from seeing a lot of my profile. Do they care? No, but it's better to give them a lot less material to talk about when they want to be assholes. I swear, these people.


Welcome to Finals.

Precious Moments with Mom

Mom: I don't know what's wrong with [my coworker's daughter]. She's an attorney, she's smart, funny and attractive. I just don't understand why she doesn't have a boyfriend.

me: Thanks mom. So I'm single because i'm none of the above?

Mom: That's because you're picky.


Apparently, rejection of the Jizzmaster warrants a "picky" label.


p.s. Between me and my friend L. Miller the word "picky" was code for "gay."

I'd rather be single.

Since I officially became single (many, many months ago), my ever so helpful friends and closest confidantes gingerly expressed to me that perhaps I should give men a chance. This by no means indicated that I am a lesbian, it just meant that maybe, generally, I'm a little hostile when it comes to meeting guys. The following are the top three reasons (meaning I had to search within all my heinous incidents) why, why, I should always be a bitch, bear in mind, these incidents happened within the past 3 months:

Boy behind door number 3:
Recently I went on a date with a guy I met through a co-worker. I found him to be a little socially awkward and not really amusing at times, but, my roommates met him and said to give him a chance. After all, I am the only single person in my group of friends (officially). Here's how it panned out:

me: So do you have any roommates?
him: no, I own my own place. I live alone.
me: Oh that's pretty sweet.
*****
him: so I hope we can go out again
me: maybe next time i'll come to [insert his nearby orange county city]
him: *awkward pause* well, I don't know if you can do that
me: *puzzled* why?
him: because my ex girlfriend still lives with me (side note: this is ex girlfriend of 10 years).

Boy behind door number 2:
I used to frequent a comedy club called iO West in Hollywood. My partner in crime L. Miller and I love to watch our favorite team KDD perform there. One night, we went there to grab drinks and hang out. L. Miller, with the foresight to know when an annoying and possibly sketchy guy was about to advance, started talking to the bartender and sat down at the bar. In fall swoop, the guy she expertly avoided started talking to me. Here's how that conversation panned out:

him: so what do you do?

me: i'm a student

him: oh what are you studying?

me: law

him: oh like pre-law?

me: no, like THE law

him: *nudge* so will you be my attorney some day? *wink*

me: oh, you're really not my type of client

him: what would that be?

me: children.

him: *pause, gives me the "ick" look* wow, so you're not going to be rich at all are you?

me: *offended* um, no.

::awkward pause::

me: so what do you do?
him: oh, i'm an actor.


Last but definitely not least, boy behind door number 1:
Again, out with friends, this time in Santa Monica, CA, I met my all time favorite guy at a bar. (Sarcasm added.) I was sitting in a booth with two girls, one guy when this little scrawny white boy slid in the booth sitting himself right next to me:

him: hey there

me: um, hi

him: my name is Chris (as an FYI, I felt that if I censored the following information my readers would not get the full effect of the reasoning behind my initial irritation.)

me: (already irritated) ugh. i hate that name. where are you from?

him: Pittsburgh (of course, OF course)

me: ugh, i hate that city. in fact, i prefer not to talk to guys named Chris from Pittsburgh.

(for those readers who do not know, my ex boyfriend's name is Chris, from Pittsburgh)

him: well, my friends like to call me the jizzmaster.

me: excuse me? did you give yourself that name or did someone else...
::shoots look to girl across the way AND the guy sitting next to me who stare in disbelief::

him: no, my buddies (points over to the bar) call me the jizzmaster.

me: i dont even want to know. (he makes small talk to the other people at our table and then leaves to get more drunk)

***** (later on, he returns to the scene of the crime) *****

him: so i live three blocks away

me: so?

him: you wanna come over and watch a movie? no funny business i swear

me: you must be fucking joking

him: oh come on, i have catch phrase

me: sorry, i only put out for yahtzee.

Filed Under: Next Generation of Rivalry.

Today, a fellow law student (who I actually don't know) and his son walked by in the hall. Both are wearing San Diego Charger paraphanalia.

Me: Aww, what a cute little boy! But he's wearing the wrong t-shirt!

Fellow law student: no, he's not!

Little boy (looking indignant): No, I not!

Fellow law student: come on [insert little boy's name] - don't listen to her, she must be an Oakland Raider fan.

Little boy (scurries after father): ewwww!!!!



*Well, that soured fast.

What are you?

Recently I donated blood to the American Red Cross.

Intake person: Date of birth?

me: 11/21/83

Intake person: Race?

me: Um, what do you have there?

Intake person: Well, we have black, hispanic, white. What are you? Mixed?

me: No, Filipino.

Intake person: Oh. ::clicks mouse:: Other.


* I can't make this shit up. Seriously.

Back, Back, Back, Back it up.

Short and sweet today. Conversation with my father.

me: I threw out my back this weekend. And I don't have medical insurance. And i'm laying in the middle of the hall at school because it hurts to be alive.

Dad: Hmm. Right. You don't have medical insurance. have you tried Vicks?

me: Of course I tried Vicks. Are I not your daughter and Filipino? I've tried everything. I'm in a lot of pain.

Dad: Hm. Sucks. I don't know what to tell you. If you were home I'd just give you medicine and we could take care of you here. But you're not home. And it's not like you have anyone to take care of you. Family, boyfriend...yeah, if you had a boyfriend he could help you out and stuff like carry your books and rub Vicks on your back.

me: Thanks. Do you have a prescription for that?