Monkey In a Suit

There are times when I hate my life and feel entirely useless.

 And then there are times I get letters from my old rental company telling me they’re confiscating the entire security deposit and I owe them more money on top of that and I thank my lucky living stars I’m a motherfrocking lawyer.

I hate people who take advantage of others-and after a careful perusal of the legislation, it definitely looks like they’re trying to pull a fast one on me-including charging me for painting-a charge you absolutely can’t deduct in this state unless the individual ruins the fracking WALLS, as in they need to be replaced. They charged me up to $200 to put light bulbs back in the bathroom light fixture. Are you kidding me?   

I can’t wait to make their lives miserable. I’m just checking all my bases to make sure I don’t have to pay their attorney fees-but even if I have to pay out the $125.00 extra they’re demanding of me in the end, I’m going to make sure they have to earn every penny of it.

I’ve now spiralled downwards into faking a social life with the guy who sells me baked almonds at the Farmer’s Market every Wednesday. He always had a smile for me, but I’ve noticed with this reduced waistline, he seems to have moved into full-fledged flirtery, complete with an extra half packed of almonds for doing nothing other than scuttling in front of his almond cart. I don’t really care. He refuses to sell me 10 almonds so I buy the “snack pack” and give the rest of it to my paralegal and secretary to split.  

Almond Man: so dressing up as anything good tonight?

Monkey has no plans, except to attend spinning class…but popular people have crazazay Halloween plans, right? Right? So “I’m going to spin and then lie naked on my bed” is the incorrect answer.  

Monkey: yeah…umm, I’ve got a really great costume.

Almond Man: oh yeah? What?

Just hand over the almonds man. Hand them f*ckin’ over. I’ve been looking forward to this all week. Frock! Now I have to think up something pithy and ironic on the spot.

Monkey: ummm…I’m going as a…as a witch.  

Almond Man: Oh…I thought you were going to say something really creative.

Oh crap. He sees through me. He knows I’m going just going to eat mackerel and chapati and then go to spin.

Monkey: It’s like…more complicated than that. Because…I’m going to carry around some scales…

Almond Man: So…you’re like a dealer witch?

Monkey: No! Like…I’m a judicial witch…and the scales represent…justice.

Almond Man: *blank face, holding snack pack of almonds*

I am losing ground fast here.

Monkey: It’s because I’m a lawyer…and this like a lawyer party and we all have to dress in something legally related and everyone else took Blind Justice.

Almond Man: I bet you’ll be a really beautiful judicial witch. Where’s the party?

FROCK!

Monkey: umm…at my boyfriend’s house…it’s a party…at a house, hosted by my boyfriend.

Almond Man: Oh nice…so your boyfriend’s a lawyer?

Without thinking…

Monkey: Oh honey, F*CK NO! I don’t date other lawyers, are you crazy?

Almond Man: *blank confused face*

Oh crap! I said lawyer party related to justice themed costumes. Frock! THIS IS WHY I HAVE A NOTEPAD OF LIES damn damn damn…must recoup quickly

Monkey: Umm…his twin brother is a lawyer and they’re roommates. *pause* My boyfriend…is an engineer.

Almond Man: Well, have fun. Show me some pictures next week.

Monkey: Thanks…thanks for the extra almonds…what are you dressing up as? Any big plans?

Almond Man: Oh no. I’m just going to go to bed.

Ha!

It was all so Gift of the Magi or whatever. My paralegal got all of this week’s almond excess, though, since my secretary is off today.

Happy Halloween everyone!

Grabbed this one from Zoot.

Bold those you’ve seen.
Italicize movies you have started but couldn’t finish.
Add an asterisk* to those you have watched more than once.
Underline those on your To Watch list.

• The Shining* 
• The Exorcist
• The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
• The Silence of the Lambs*
• JAWS 
• Halloween 
• Psycho*
• Seven*
• Rosemary’s Baby
• Poltergeist
• A Nightmare on Elm Street
• Friday the 13th
• The Thing
• The Evil Dead
• Carrie
• Night of the Living Dead
• The Omen
• An American Werewolf in London (aaaah-oooooooh!)
• Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer 
• The Hitcher
• Lost Highway 
• The Blair Witch Project
• Pet Cemetery
• Saw 
• The Ring 
• Scream*
• The Fog

I will admit I have a taste for horror and the occult, though.

Or is this article condescending as hell?

 ”Ms. Rowling quite consciously makes Dumbledore a flawed, more human wizard than these models, but now goes too far.”

 ”But it is possible that Ms. Rowling may be mistaken about her own character. She may have invented Hogwarts and all the wizards within it, she may have created the most influential fantasy books since J. R. R. Tolkien, and she may have woven her spell over thousands of pages and seven novels, but there seems to be no compelling reason within the books for her after-the-fact assertion.”

(quotations from article)

Umm shut up Edward Rothstein.  The creator of the character says he was gay. He is gay.  If that destroys your world-view and is prompting this much “nooooooooo he can’t be gaaaaaaaaay” then I’m going to suggest that you have…issues.

 The only point I agree with it in that whole piece is “does it really matter?” No, ultimately it doesn’t. But denying the author’s assertion as to her own character is just ridiculous, condescending and belies your prejudice.

 Sorry guys-I forgot to add the link. The original article appeared in the New York Times

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/29/arts/29conn.html?em&ex=1193803200&en=dc5213d6bef5e62e&ei=5087%0A

1. This weekend I received a wage garnishment letter. For a traffic ticket from a year and a half ago that I PAID.

I freak out about money like crazy. The minute I got this letter in the mail I automatically started twitching, my eyelash started fluttering and I began to gulp down deep deep breaths of air and say “ohm ohm” in my mind (not in like a “funny” way, but, in a am-still-a-practicing-Hindu type way) because I know one of the big trigger factors for my fake heart attacks is money. I did stave off the heart attack-but just barely.

I know I should be calmer and less neurotic about this stuff. The ticket is paid and I paid it on credit card, one of my best habits since those idiots keep records for forever. Someone somewhere in the court system messed up-didn’t record the payment, it went to the Franchise Tax Board and they sent a wage garnishment letter to my employers. I already confirmed the payment and the people at the Court were really apologetic to me, though it remains to be seen whether the people I work for will process the stop order on the garnishment in time. If not, I’m stuck asking the state of California for my money back (and it’s not a trivial amount, either).  

I freak out and lose a year off my life with every additional anxiety attack because financial responsibility is one of those factors that I feel defines my parents’ approval of me. And it doesn’t help that my mom works in finance (well, so do I, but she is an actual banker).  Growing up my sister and I had to listen to lectures day in and day out about people who were bad with money. People, according to my mom, who make 200K a year but have no money in savings and come crying to her for a home equity loan or something.  For at least 10 years, my mom had us convinced that a late credit card payment meant the police would issue a warrant for our arrest and we’d never get a loan to buy a house and be able to raise our children in a good school system. You guys can’t imagine the things I found out when I want to law school. Like, handing in a late homework assignment didn’t result in automatic deportation.

This has to be one of the big things that irritates me (and my sister) about our parents. Okay-can I just say something to all you parents out there? I realise it’s a hard job and you want to lead your kids down a good path and everything-but I just want to say that if you have the type of kids who are generally pretty compliant about everything, it really is not all that necessary to drum the fear of god and Constitution into them such that the smallest slipup (even when it’s not their own fault) sends them straight into heart attack hand-flapping territory. It’s really pretty counter-productive-the stress was enough to send me straight out the door to watch 30 Days of Night, which I ENJOYED. I am so unapologetic about my love of Josh Hartnett movies. He’s not even hot (according to me). And he’s so squinty-eyed. Yet, I’ll watch anything he’s in. Anyway, if you make your kids crazy they will support bad movies instead of independent soul-searching fare. The end.

2. This is my 2nd year out of law school and the second year in a row that I won’t be at a law school Howl-o-ween bacchanal that the cops break up at 2:50 a.m.. I’m a little sad, like “hey, I’m growing up…it’s been two years since I’ve stepped in a puddle of vomit.” Maturity feels so…hygenic.  

Hey, did my fellow alumnus who reads this blog ever attend a M.W. Halloween party? Like every other woman who wants to indulge her secret ho, I usually went as a “sexy witch,” which was just an excuse for me to wear a corset and knee high boots with the goth pantyhose (you know, the striped black and white ones?).

3. You know what I hate? Having to fake a social life.  I just wish I could descend into total loserdom and get into something like Second Life so I could establish myself as a bona fide social pariah, instead of this weird in-between stage of rarely having weekend plans yet not having a videogame addiction. Actually, this weekend I went out on a date with a parental setup and I quite liked him (surprising myself), until I came home and e-stalked him on this dating website and found out he listed “very fair” as a requirement for a woman and then got really sulky. You know what I’m going to list as a requirement for a boy? “Very big penis”.  

So on Sunday, my favourite human brain puzzle, Pretty Boy aka Mystere, calls and of course he HAS to ask me what I did this weekend so I have to sit there and come up with something to say so I said I went to a house party that my law school friend invited me to even though said house party was in Vegas and I was like “are you f*cking kidding me? There’s no way I’m driving that far” when she actually asked me.  So then I had to write this little fiblet down on my “Notepad of Lies,” which is really important, because when you are faking a very busy, popular life so as to attract another person and develop an actual social life, it’s incredibly important to keep track of everything you ever tell the other person so it doesn’t bite you in the ass later on, when you’ve forgotten about all the exciting things you never really did.

4. My Bebe tunic still does not fit but can be zipped up almost all the way, though my boobies are still falling out of it. This situation MUST rectify itself before I meet up with his royal gayness, because it is my prettiest, most beautiful shirt and I currently hate EVERYTHING in the stores. I’m almost willing to go on a crazy 10 day all protein diet and just eat baked chicken tenders so I can slink into it and have it fit the way it should. My parents claim I’m crazy and I’ll be able to zip it up by Sunday but I’m somewhat dubious. Either way, I’m going to a weight training class at my gym after work today. The one that is right next door to my house because I moved into the most awesome neighbourhood ever. I think I might pick up a session of spin later on this week as well.

Will keep you apprised of Project Tunic as it develops.    

1. I am so behind on emails. Sorry guys. My mom and dad run me ragged. I get up at the asscrack of dawn, leave the house, come back by 6 and then after dinner they find 10, 000 things for me to do. I usually get back by 9 and fall asleep with my mouth open (on my new bed) by 9:30. I’m going to set aside time to send out replies and whatnot this weekend. Though I’m sure that will be just AS difficult seeing as they up it from 10, 000 to 10 MILLION on the weekends.

I can’t really complain or throw a hissyfit though, because having them around has been so much help. They cook, made me an herb garden on the balcony etc. etc….

2. I caved and had sushi for lunch today (1 spicy tuna roll and a thing of inari, of which I threw out half). Now I’m sitting here riddled with guilt because I ingested a carb before sunset aieeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Not that I am low-carbing, but I generally try to avoid simple carbs except for white rice once in a while with dinner. I had a lunch all packed and stuff but the baked tandoori chicken tenders (as in that’s the cut of meat I buy because I am that lazy) I brought need a sauce. I keep telling my dad, I need a sauce with my tandoori tenders, preferably a mint raita dipping sauce. And then I get sent to work without a sauce so I use this half-used bottle of salad dressing circa when I got hired here in 2005, right? And because I don’t have a container for the sauce, I sort of do this thing where I’ll pour the dressing into the cap and then dip the chicken in that and munch. Oh, and I just may (possibility being the operative emotion of that italic) lick the cap at the end. Or dip a finger in the remaining vinaigrette and lick my finger and then re-dip my finger. And then I put the cap back on and put it back in my locking cabinet (because this office is rife with used vinaigrette thieves).  

So this was totally weird and all, but I open the bottle today and it has a bit of an odour to it (like I said, odd). I pour the dressing into the cap as usual, stick a finger in for my preliminary finger-painting honours and confirm that now the taste is all wrong too. Like something is rotten in the kingdom of maple balsamic.

I have no idea where it all went wrong.

But after that I was very anti tandoori chicken tender so I was like “screw it, one of the last opps to buy sushi before NaBloPoMo” and went for it. PS, I am getting that damn Tarte blush before November 1st too.

3. I have a kadipatta plant. I think I’m an adult desi, now.

A Weighty Issue

Thanks to Jen, who left me the link to the Cooking Light exercise section in the links. I had a really good time looking at it. And realising that while I have the discipline and willpower to go out and zone out doing aerobic exercise, I simply need someone to tell me what to do for weight training.

I want to take the weight training thing very seriously, because I feel that in this entire regimen, it’s the only thing I’m doing for me.  My mom has osteopenia, I’ve yammered on at length about it. Since she was diagnosed my parents and my sister have been on me about the weight training issue. My mother and I are alike in every single way (except I’m not a buttery yellow colour), down to the tips of our noses. The chance I’ll develop it down the road is very high. Lucky me, I grew up in a first world country and actually had access to cheap, nutritious dairy products, unlike my mom growing up poor in the 50s in India. But the chances are still high. So while the diet and slow-but-steady exercise schedule is for tight jeans and attracting a cute professional desi guy to start sniffing around my crotch, the weight training is all for me me me so I can spend my retirement years hobbling around, rather than whizzing in a scooter.

So anyway, the act of getting up and then driving to the gym has been getting annoying and tiresome, especially since my parents are here and I have to rely on my father to pick/drop me off right now. Additionally, it’s wasted time and wasted gas. So we were driving down my block, but the way we usually don’t go, and lo and behold, there’s a competing gym 1 block from my house.  It’s the same per month as my current gym (which is near my office, but in Pasadena is about a 10 minute drive away with problematic parking) and they are willing to waive all the sign up fees. As far as amenities go, it’s very nice. But MOST importantly-they’ve got amazing classes, including Budokan (I’ve been meaning to take up a martial art before MDH even suggested it), spinning, yoga & a group led weight training class about an hour after I get home. And with it being so close (2 minute walk from my front door), I can easily show up to the classes on time without worrying about driving/parking.

Seemed like an easy sell. My current gym required Months 1 & 2 paid upfront so I’m giving one month notice today. I guess I have a one month overlap over November but I recently bled one and a half check into overlapping Californian rents, security deposits and cheap-ass furniture, so paying $30 to the new gym with the knowledge that I had paid $30 for my last month at current gym (way back when, when I first joined) isn’t even close to phasing me.

The Mystery of Pretty Boy

I talked to him for two hours last night. I’m kind of amazed that he’s this goodlooking (I’ll email Ming and Cagey pictures soon so they can attest to this kid’s attractiveness) and not the most arrogant, jerky pricky thing around. But, I’m still not completely sure he’s heterosexual. Take this conversation last night

Pretty Boy: So what type of guys are you attracted to?

[Monkey's answer redacted]

Monkey: [blahblahblah]…what about you?

(yes, I was deliberately vague)

Pretty Boy: Oh you mean in terms of girls?

Monkey: Or badgers, whatever you like.

Pretty Boy: Oh! Hahaha. You are a very humourous individual.

GODS, I was so tempted to be like “well, if your taste runs to girls”.

(PS, his answer was “intelligent and feisty”)

I’m so intrigued I don’t even care if we meet and I have to take the hit to my ego that he didn’t feel it. Besides, I will just convince myself he is gay if that happens anyway. I do KINDA hope he is both hetero AND it works out, though, even if for a little while, at least long enough for him to take his pants off.

*small voice*

I like looking at him.

(also he said he cleans)

(I mean COME ON)

(I would totally be his beard for a couple months, maybe one)

Broken

My shopping chip is broken. I hate everything. I figured maybe this is because I’m less into it than I used to be but I called my sister yesterday, a creature generally more inspired than I am, and she was like “no, I completely agree.” I haven’t been to H & M recently in Old Pas, mainly because it’s like a circus in there during the weekends. I saw a REALLY lovely red wool jumper dress that was featured on MSN in Target. There was some stuff at Ann Taylor Loft, which I like a lot better than Ann Taylor. But mostly I feel life has descended into the territory of stuff I can afford but am more likely to wear to the office (Ann Taylor Loft, Target), stuff I will not touch with a 10 foot pole (the fashionable stuff out right now) and stuff I covet but am too cheap to buy (Hugo Boss).  One of the few remaining brands I genuinely enjoy is Benetton. I also like a lot of stuff on Gap’s online store, but mostly I am meh.

Oh and PS, you guys totally know that if I fit perfectly into my really awesome tunic from Bebe (that I bought at the beginning of the year and am JUST starting to fit into) by the time PrettyBoy and I go out, that I am totally, completely, madly, suddenly going to go out and buy Seven jeans to match it, right? And then pretend like I didn’t? Okay, just kidding. I will write a really sorrowful post about how I slipped up, not so sorrowfully if it induces PrettyBoy to put a prettyhand on my thigh.  

What are you guys coveting right now? I’ve almost talked myself into flying to NYC and trying to get my college chum MC H to go shopping with me at Century 21 or something. I really liked her outfits when I saw her this summer and it was all “Century 21 this and sample sale that”. But as far as the stores I generally go into for something wearable

Bebe: completely trashy except nice coats (useless here)

Banana Republic: conservative office wear. I have a ton and also I don’t like looking remotely attractive or sexy at the office so don’t want anything.

Ann Taylor Loft: see above

Gap: really cute dresses. But do I need more dresses? Ack! What do I want to shop for anyway?

Abercrombie: I fracking hate this store. The smell alone drives me up the wall and if I pay a lot of money, I don’t want to look like I work on a dock at a yacht club. Plus, Chic Mommy’s rant about how all the catalogues and adverts are all child porny looking made sense to me.

 Target: aside from really cute red Mossimo dress, not really interested

H & M: haven’t yet looked

As a special request, and because you get these fresh LIVE crabs here at the 99 Ranch Markets of Insanity-my mom is making Konkani Crab Curry (koorli masala) for dinner for me tonight. And you are all so so jealous.

GODS it’s awesome to be part Konkani. Out of the Desi subcontinent, the only subgroups that truly know fish are Konkanis, Keralites and Bengalis. I’ve heard rumours that a few Tamil brahmins also eat it but I’m suspicious of these reports.

It just occured to me that my father brought his camera so I’ll try to get a snap.

I feel like I’m beginning to come out of the cloud of mild depression that has been following me around for a while.  I’ll admit that while some of this is due to new projects, a lot of it has to do with the exercise and subsequent decrease in waistline.

I’ve had a moody personality since I was a teenager and a couple of shrinks have diagnosed me with mild anxiety disorder and mild depression. And now that my sister is officially a shrink M.D., she’s let me know her professional opinion (which concurs, and she also pointed out that my brother-in-law and I are exactly alike in personality AND mental health, which is probably why we get along so well and she loves him so much). 

I’ve never let it stop me from doing anything or going anywhere, or even rebounding from huge hits to the ego and soul (break up of engagement in school and subsequent semester of badish-for-me grades, failing the bar etc.). The McWearingChaps can be a melancholy, schizophrenic bunch, but we’re good about getting up to get punched in the face all over again. It’s just that sometimes the world feels so flat to me, like the life I’m sipping at is a tepid ginger beer with all the fizz gone out.  If I think about this state of affairs, I start getting tears-in-my-eyes sobby-sad. So most of the time I ignore it and live in a state of flat. Flat is better than weepy because flat allows me to get up every morning, comb my hair and get to work.

I’ve always used exercise as a tool to get my mood up and elevated and excited though it isn’t working as well recently. I still have that feeling after I get off the treadmill, or during my walks, but it isn’t making the loneliness go away anymore. I wonder if I’ve reached the end of the line with the life I’ve led for so long-solitary, focused, transient and distant from most people except my family. Unfortunately, I’ve led this life for so long, it’s hard for me to figure out how to change it. I know stopping myself from moving to Seattle was a step in the right direction.  If you have a negative impression of L.A. I guess you might not agree, but at least it keeps me from going batsh*t due to winters without company, which happened every year in Illinois during law school.  I mean, I HAVE a negative impression of L.A. after 2 years, trust me. I would never recommend that anyone move here alone, as I did (or for that matter, with impressionable teenagers). But the weather doesn’t drive me insane, which is something that I think would have occurred in Seattle.

I hate outing myself for being such a weakling on my blog but the times I can count in my life when I’ve been pretty excited and happy boil down to when

a) I’m thin

b) I have a boyfriend whose company I enjoy

Of course, the fact that I haven’t achieved (b) in any lasting sense of the word bugs me, while simultaneously bugging me that I need (b) [or even (a)] at all.  I feel like I’ve been sold this impression that a professional woman doesn’t, or rather, shouldn’t need a man at all to keep her happy-that happiness and connection can be achieved through a good job and salary (check), lots of material objects (check), good girlfriends (double check check) and a swinging social life (ummm, maybe this is where I failed).  So why is it that I have almost all this stuff but I still feel so lonely and sad all the time? It’s incredibly guilt inducing when I wake up to BBC world news which usually concerns itself with Darfur, plague dogs, Myanmar and the Iraq War.  It’s extra-irritating because often I really feel as though I don’t even really like men, whom I view as duplicitous, philandering, annoying, presumptuous and violent. Except my father and brother, whose company I enjoy. But not other men.  You don’t even need to condescendingly type out a comment that perhaps I should go out with better people, or it’s just the ones I’ve encountered. I know.       

Most of the time I live peaceably in this shallow rock pool of ennui.  Then once in a great while this wave (and that is the only thing I can describe it as) of sadness or anxiety just washes over me and for 5 minutes I feel like I am having a straight up frocking heart attack or like my heart is breaking into a million pieces. That’s the only way I can describe it as-the last one was shortly after my father got here (no, he didn’t set it off, depression has been on the decrease since my parents got here)-this throat clenching heart pounding agony where I thought my heart would just erupt from my rib cage while an unknown assailant behind me squeezed every last precious drop of oxygen out of my throat.  The wave crashes and goes away but for those few minutes I feel like I’m dying…of a heart attack. At the age of 28. Or the wave washes over me and I start trembling because something is ripping it apart and all I want to do is sit and cry.

I’ve always allowed myself to breathe, relax and get through the anxiety and sadness attacks. I’m usually fine within a couple of hours. When I was younger, I would tell myself that I was really young and it was okay to be alone now because I had so much time and so many options.  That was always the hope I held on to…the hope that I no longer really believe in (or maybe half-heartedly, because BLAH, I am young, but I’ve been having semi-heart attacks since the age of 22 and 6 years later it’s hard to be like, “oh by the time I’m 30″ when 30 is under 2 years away).

It’s not the same feeling as having someone who is in love with me and wants my company and thinks I’m pretty  (versus parental love), but since my mom and dad have been here I’ve been doing a lot better than usual.  The waves haven’t been crashing around me for a while. I’m just really afraid right now that when they leave I’ll go back to my faux heart attacks (which frock, they are super painful, I can’t explain it well enough on here) and lying in my bed listlessly for all of Saturday morning. Mostly in the back of my mind is the fear that one day these waves will crash, and they truly will carry me off and wash me out to sea.