Legalese

The other day, one of our new clients drove me over the edge. I work at an Estate and Business Planning Law office as a legal assistant. Essentially, it is our job to help save our clients’ money and help them make even more. This particular client had a complete distrust and misguided idea of ALL attorneys and lawyers. He had the audacity to group all lawyers together as “just in it to make money.” He was asserting that after his death, when his estate was probated, that the attorneys who would handle his probate would “milk” his estate and “steal” all of his money for themselves. 

I had calmly tried to reassure him that not all attorneys are “just going to take his money,” and that in fact, many would try to help him save as much money as he could. But he wouldn’t listen. He was wholly convinced that all lawyers are evil and “only want to make money.” (He was also convinced that doctors will make whatever medical decisions so as to make the most amount of money. *face palm*) 

I find his logic flawed on many levels. His premise of “lawyers only in it to make money” is simply flawed and untrue. The overarching goal of almost any profession is to make money. It is not just lawyers, doctors, engineers, CEOs, or anyone else who makes a substantial amount of money. The goal of a burger flipper at McDonalds is to make money. And by his logic, anyone who is out there to make money is evil. Essentially, this guy, with his unsound logic, is asserting that he himself is evil because he has a job to make money. Sure, attorneys can often charge quite a bit of money for the services they provide, but they usually know what they are doing more often than the average citizen, and can therefore help save that citizen a lot of money by travelling the system efficiently and correctly. 

The work my office provides may cost more up front, but it will end up saving the client money in the long run. As a person who is planning to pursue the path of law, I find it personally offensive when someone asserts things of the above referenced nature. For, they are in turn insulting me and asserting that I have wholly selfish goals with my career choice. On the contrary, the entire reason I decided to pursue law was to help those who can’t help themselves in a way that I best could: with my mind and words. 

So the next time you or someone you know starts thinking or talking about how “evil” all attorneys are, remember attorneys that help people save money, attorneys that put murderers and rapists in jail, attorneys that fight for human rights across the globe, and attorneys like Atticus Finch-fictional though he may be-there are attorneys out there who fight for is right.

*Disclaimer: I am not asserting that all attorneys and lawyers are good. Just like any other profession, religion, or human being: some are good, some are bad, and some are in between.

Free Dresses are the Best!

So, to anyone out there reading or looking at my blog for any reason, you should go to this other blog --> http://www.shoppingsmycardio.com/2012/02/29/smc-leap-day-giveaway-brooklyn-industries/comment-page-1/#comment-8436 and enter her giveaway :] You could win the cutest dress. Ever.

You should also just follow her blog in general.

YAY!

The Zombie Apocageddon

ZOMBIES! They’re everywhere! AAAAHHHHH! No, really, they’re everywhere. They’re in the movies, books, internet, and of course every merchandising warehouse. They've invaded. People are obsessed with Zombies these days.

I’m not entirely sure whether I should be worried or impressed at just how ready our society is for a Zombie apocalypse. It’s as if we’re egging it on. I mean, that’s why we’re overpopulating, right? So that we have enough survivors to sustain the human race until all the Zombies are dead-dead. But seriously, a Zombie proof house!?

There are Zombie survival guides, road signs, police tape, special weaponry, “in case of Zombies break glass” kits. Despite all of this mania, I still seem to want to prepare for this “impending” Zombie Apocalypse. Whenever I see a cool switch blade or Machete that’s designed for “Zombie killing,” I have to restrain from reaching for my wallet. I secretly plan my own Zombie proof house, and survival guides. But why?

Why am I, too, obsessed with Zombies? Well, they are bizarre, and anything bizarre amuses me. Not to mention the show “The Walking Dead” is absolutely fabulous. Most of all, I think it’s because I’d have a moral obligation to kill the people I don’t like to protect myself. :]

Here is my Zombie escape plan:

1.     Stockpile food, water, Gatorade, Spam, and MREs.

2.     Stockpile machine guns, shot guns, rifles, grenades, rocket launchers, flame throwers and massive amounts of ammunition.

3.     Marry a Saudi Prince and become heir to Arabian oil.

4.     Buy a self-sustaining solar power plant.

5.     Charter my own remote island in the middle of the ocean.

6.     Become best friends with a pilot.

7.     Once the apocalypse begins, lie low, preferably far underground, until things above ground finish their peak.

8.     Run to plane with pilot friend, and other survivors that aren’t annoying, and fly to remote island.

9.     Live a happy, Zombie-free life. :] 

Buy that cute little guy down there, HERE. :]

What’s your escape plan?

Cap'n Smee the Brave

I have a Pembroke Welsh Corgi, and he is an absolute dork. Here are the reasons why:

1. He's a Peeping Tom.

1. He's a Peeping Tom.

"I see you."

2. He puts up with me.

3. He sleeps in the weirdest positions.

4. He's a creeper.

5. He has a dog man cave under my futon.

6. He prefers to lie on my clean clothes rather than his dog bed.

7. He makes for good decor.

8. He stalks my roommate's bird.

9. He runs figure 8s through the snow at top speeds.

10. He tilts his head every time you say his name.

11. He's half the size of a regular dog.

12. He hides from the rain.

13. He finds 'chewies' everywhere, even in the wild.

14. He doesn't understand the complexities of a cardboard box.

15. He sleeps on his back.

A Story of a Dream

This is a dream I once had. A very vivid dream. I have those occasionally. Ya know, the ones where you wake up gasping in fear until you realize it was only a dream? One of those. Sadly, it's essentially what would likely happen to me. Enjoy.

It seems things often go wrong the first time one tries them. They shouldn’t for most people, but for some reason, I seem to be quite unlucky. 

I decided to try the Magic Dragon for the first time. It was a friend’s birthday party, and everyone was already high and having a good time. They had a huge bong out to smoke with, The Zong, and it just looked so tempting. The smoke looked almost seductive as it filled the wide twists and turns of the thick glass. It was calling out to me. When I finally worked up enough courage to try it, all eyes were on me.

Everyone was giving me different instructions and making me laugh, which made it hard to concentrate enough to accomplish the task at hand. Finally, I was ready. I put my lips into the opening and started sucking as Boyfriend lit the goods. He was going to tell me when to stop sucking so as to not over do it for my first time. I was breathing in slowly but hard. I could see the yellow and white smoke dance up the bong, into my throat, and down to my lungs. I was starting to drift off to a happy muffled sound paradise when suddenly, fuzzy voices were yelling and screaming at Boyfriend. Their chaos brought me back to reality, which was to realize Boyfriend had kept the bowl in the Zong (which is supposed to be taken out), and he’d kept lighting it. I pulled my face out of the depths of the smoke filled pipe and started choking. My entire esophagus was on fire! I couldn’t breathe because I was coughing so hard. I ran from the couch and into the kitchen. Found a glass, filled it with water, and started chugging. I was chugging water as fast as I could to put the fire out. I even started gargling the water in hopes that would tame the flame within my chest.

 I was dying. I was sure of it. There was no other thought going through my mind. The burning in my throat and lungs was exactly how Hell was going to feel, but all over my body. I tried getting angry at boyfriend, but it hurt to talk. Boyfriend thought it would be a bright idea to have me eat a dip with jalepenos in it…. That didn’t happen. I knew putting anything solid down my throat, especially hot things, would only make the pain worse. I walked outside into the harsh cold air. That helped a little. I tried to take in deep soothing breaths of the cold air, but that only made me cough again. I stood in the cold. Breathing slowly as I clutched my throat and heart, which burned and pounded. My head felt heavy and tight as my brain licked up the THC, which it was taking in for the first time ever. I went back inside and chugged more water. I walked into the bathroom and splashed cool water on my burning face. This helped a great deal. The pain in my throat and lungs was slowly subsiding, so I went back to the room where everyone was. I sat next to Boyfriend and just laid there.

 I was high. Blazed. The lights hurt my eyes so I squinted. I tried to pay attention to the conversations around me but all I could manage to do was lie on Boyfriend and close my eyes. I vaguely remember hearing I looked like a kitten all curled up. I took it as a compliment. As I was getting used to the feeling of being high, I was slowly able to pay more attention to people around me. One person kept making snide comments about me and being high. I wanted to retort and make witty comebacks against him or even defend myself, but all I could manage to do was smile and giggle. I tried not to, but that made me smile even more. I was in complete euphoria.

I began to feel the urge to eat. We had donuts. There was nothing I wanted more right then, than a donut and some peanut butter M&Ms. I tried to get up off the couch to go get them, but I couldn’t find the motivation. It just seemed like so much work to get up and accomplish such a task. I asked for help. Others, who also wanted donuts, got me two. Double the pleasure. I smiled gaily at the fact that I had two yummy donuts all to myself. I bit into the first and savored the buttermilk taste. Before I knew it, it was gone. Someone wanted to try my donut, but I snatched it away before they had a chance. It was my delicious buttermilk donut and I would defend it with my life if I had to! I even chomped on it devilishly to prove it was mine. I realized I was being selfish, and wanted someone else to share in this delicacy, so I gave the rest of it to the person who originally tried to take it from me. I felt beyond happy that I’d done something that brought joy to another’s life. It soon came time to move.

Boyfriend had gotten up to grab something, and expected me to move over when he came back. It seemed an impossible task. I stared at my right leg willing it to move. It sat there. I stared harder, trying to make my yet to be discovered telekinetic powers to come into action. Nothing. Finally, Boyfriend and I both grabbed my right leg and moved it over toward the right. Next came left leg, then butt. I felt very proud for accomplishing this impossible deed. However, I hadn’t moved far enough, so the process had to ensue again. I was finally in the right spot, and just sat there staring off into oblivion.

It soon came time to leave. I didn’t want to leave. Leaving meant moving, which was so hard to do. I was comfortable. I had M&Ms still, and chip dip. There was nothing more I needed in life. To make me get up and lose it all seemed unnecessary. I didn’t want to leave. Boyfriend told me we had to before we got tired. I sank deeper into the couch. He got up and urged me to get up as well. I stared at him. He left the room to go get something, expecting me to get up by the time he got back. I stared at my legs again, wishing I could simply teleport back home. 

Then, I heard some faint music wafting from somewhere and started dancing with my feet. I’d created such an exotic sit down foot dance that I was entranced, and couldn’t focus on anything else. A harsh laugh came from somewhere. It was the guy who’d been giving me trouble all night. I still tried to get back at him, but all that escaped my mouth was a burst of laughter. I decided I had to get up off the couch to save my dignity. With all my force and concentration, I lifted myself off the couch. Success! Now, how do I walk again? Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Left foot, left foot? COLORS!

As I’d tried to walk a short distance, I got distracted by some colors on a piece of paper. I stared at them for who knows how long. It could’ve been five seconds; it could’ve been five minutes. I hadn’t a clue. I was simply happy to be staring at such a pretty array of blue, green, pink, and yellow. I somehow ended up outside and in the car. My conclusion is I finally managed to teleport.

Boyfriend drove us to my house to grab puppy, then to his house to relax. It had snowed that day and the entire landscape was covered in snow. Puppy + Snow = happiest puppy on Earth. Puppy was gaily running rampant in the fenced off front yard, racing back and forth, letting the snow fly all around him. I watched giggling uncontrollably. Boyfriend, who’d been inside the house, came back out to alert me that the power was out. I couldn’t quite comprehend the full meaning of this. In the past when I’d been in a power outage my family had been prepared with candles and flashlights galore. I was simply used to people having these things around for times like this. Therefore, I wasn’t worried that there was a power outage. We’d light some candles and be fine.

 Boyfriend doesn’t own candles or flashlights. This scared me. I don’t like the dark. When high, the dark terrifies me. I convinced myself there was a monster in the closet that was going to eat me, and insisted we close the door. Since the power was out and we had nothing to entertain us in the dark, we decided to simply go to bed. We locked all the doors, and settled in for the night. As I was drifting off to sleep, Puppy suddenly started growling. He does this sometimes, so I told him to be quiet. However, he started barking and barking. It wasn’t a happy-let’s-play bark. It was a defensive-there’s-an axe-murderer-out-there-who’s-going-to-kill-us bark. I couldn’t move because I was so scared. I looked at Boyfriend who looked at me, and we both looked at Puppy who kept barking. We tried listening to the sheer silence around us (once Puppy stopped barking), for any sign that there was an intruder. We couldn’t hear anything. 

Since the power was out, the alarm system didn’t work. Boyfriend has been robbed and held captive with a knife to his throat once, so he was already paranoid about that. Add weed to the picture, and multiply the paranoia by 100. We were both scared shitless and didn’t want to move. I made Boyfriend go check things out. Puppy went with him. It seems Puppy was only barking to get our attention to make us let him go play in the snow some more. 

We settled in again, and called the power company. It was four in the morning. The power wasn’t expected to come back until 9:30 am. In that time any number of things could go wrong. Number one being the axe murderer was under the bed waiting for us to fall asleep before he chopped us into little unidentifiable pieces. This thought kept me far from the edge of the bed and wide awake for a great deal of time. Finally I fell asleep, having dreams of who knows what. I woke up alive and in one piece, and... the dream morphed into something that I don't remember. 

What's in a Blog?

So, I’ve always wondered when, where, and why blogs came into existence. Like, who created them? And why are they called blogs anyway? It’s a really weird word if you think about it. Bluh-Ahg. Blog. Seriously, where did the word come from? It can’t be Latin. Heh, I can just picture those ancient Romans now. Vini Vidi Blogi. Translation: I came, I saw, I blogged. It’s certainly not Chinese considering they can’t really pronounce their “L’s”. “Herro. My name Xiao Cheng. I brog today.”

It simply must be American. Only for the fact that it’s such a stupid sounding word.  There’s really no other explanation I can come up with.

Sadly, my curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to look up where the word blog came from. Sadly, it’s just the coined term for “web log.” Nothing spectacular. I was hoping for some sort of heroic battle over what to name random online diaries for people. There definitely should’ve been some blood involved. Yes. That would have made its creation all the more amazing. But no, some computer geek named Peter Merholz jokingly combined web log into blog. Maybe while he was laughing he got a paper cut? That might make more sense.

Just imagine a group of nerdy computer pros are having a good time, debating on a catchier word title for web logs, when Mr. Merholz pops into the conversation just as he’s shuffling through his papers. “Well, according to a scientific study I conducted, the average internet consumer would consider a popular word for these web logs to be b..*slice* LOGS! Although he was truly trying to say “Boho Logs” which in and of itself is short for bohemian web logs, it came out as blogs, which all the other nerdy computer pros came to love. All the while ignoring Merholz’ paper cut that would now need a band aid or two. Yes. That’s how the story should have gone.

Ping Pong anyone

Ping pong; One of America’s nerdy and partier population’s pastimes. It’s such a wonderful sport. There are many different ways a person could play too. There’s singles, doubles, around the world, beer pong, and many even create their own special games. I myself am a fan of singles and doubles. One may not think this sport very exhilarating or intense. However, this sport can be very dangerous and adrenaline pumping as any other contact sport.

One could get hit very hard in the face or other sensitive areas with the ball. A paddle could be thrown at an opponent to start disaster. A shoe could be kicked in frustration from losing, which then results in harmonious and hysterical laughter from everyone present. We all know laughing too much can result in hazardous health issues. A person could step and slip on the ball when in pursuit of the sphere, as it tends to bounce away at every given opportunity.

The most danger can occur when a person is battling out a hardcore game of doubles. With doubles, there are two people vs. two other people. Each team must alternate hits between its two players. This results in hitting the ball, then backing up so your partner has plenty of room to volley the ball back in time. It’s a back and forth game of looming death. You don’t want to be the one to mess up, so you’re working triple time and running around as fast as you can to save the ball from the opposing teams continuous attacks. You must be careful, however. Especially when the table is at a slant where two uneven floors meet. For, a person could roll their ankle when diving to the opposite side of the table from which they were originally standing, to the uneven floor side, while tripping over their partner’s shoe who didn’t happen to move out of the way in time. I would know because this very situation happened to me last night. Go ahead, laugh. Make fun of me for hurting myself in a game of ping pong, but don’t judge until you have actually played an invigorating and teeth clenching game first. Only then can you understand how this inconceivable act becomes inconceivable.