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SundayUndies.com - January 2005

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A Few of Our Favorite Things


OK, finally I am going to give into my cats' demands and let them guest blog an entry. I just can't take all the meow-ing any more.

Hi! We're Fred & Ethel, Jen's cats. Finally she is giving into our demand to guest blog. We L-O-V-E to blog!

So, Jen seems to be a big fan of lists, and just so our entry doesn't totally depart from her site's theme (if there really is one - not to be mean, we're just saying), here's our list of our Top 5 Favorite Things to Do:

5. Eat, duh.

4. Lay on stuff. What fun is laying on just carpet? We love to wait until something falls onto the floor - papers, plastic bags, socks, pens, etc. - and then lay on it. If we're being totally honest here, sometimes we like to actually knock these items off their habitual perches just so we can lay on them.

3. Wake Jen up. Every morning at 5:30 a.m., I (Fred here) love to get a running start from the living room and bound onto the bed while Jen's sleeping and ferociously attack her feet until she wakes up. I know Jen loves it, too, because she always gets up and feeds me in response.

2. Help Jen with school stuff. That Jen, always studying - she really deserves a break. We like to encourage her to take time out for the important stuff in life (like petting us) by laying on her papers and textbooks. Or, alternatively, to encourage her to be more efficient in her note-taking, we like to nestle in against her arm so she can type with only one hand. Succinctness is next to godliness!


Sick: Just One Letter Away from Suck


Ugh. I have some kind of chest-filling crud. Three naps today. The one good thing about being sick is that I lay around in bed all day, which is what my (2) cats do anyway, so we're totally simpatico... or sim-cat-ico, you might say! HAHAHA. Ha. Uh, haven't had much social interaction over the last two days. Aside from, you know, with my cats. Agh. Save me.

I did make it to the grocery store, the Rock-n-Roll Ralph's that's about 400 feet from my door. I drove there, as I usually do, which is ridiculous, I know, but serves the following purposes:

A. Prevents the over-exposure of walking along LA streets. Seriously, LA drivers stare at walkers. Even the .38 blocks to Ralph's is often too much for me to bear.

B. Better avoids parking lot grifters. A couple weeks ago on the way in this elderly lady in a fluffy pink cardigan asked me for bus money. I didn't have any cash and she nearly cried when I said sorry, no. So I specifically got cash out to give to her, and when I came out and handed her a couple bucks, she gave me this evil little smile, tucked it into her bra and wandered away - but not in the direction of the bus stop. Damn pink cardigans.

C. Get my daily fill of good ole Protestant guilt. Because if I didn't have something to worry about, who would I be?

Bad News Bears


It's so weird, when you know something is wrong. I saw "Home," a.k.a my parents number, had come up on my phone, but my parents hadn't left a message — very unlike my mother, who always leaves (insert Southern accent here) a "Haay, Ji-in, it's your ma-ahm, just callin' to chick up on yew, etc., etc." message. I thought, well, if it's anything serious, they'll call me back. But I've been having dreams lately about death in my family, very non-specific. So I called back and my dad answered, and in his very M.D. way, told me my grandpa has liver cancer and only has a few months left. It's probably best in the long run, so my grandpa thinks, since his quality of life has bottomed out what with macular degeneration (he's almost blind now) and since he had gallbladder surgery and can no longer eat his diet of bacon and eggs and cheese and bacon and sausage and maybe some more cheese. Still, it's hard to think about. It feels really odd to write about it here, since heretofore I've only written surface-y stuff.

My dad was so good telling me; it really made me understand why patients loved him so much. Somehow he manages to be kind and caring and yet realistic in a very gentle way. It's harder for me to think about my mom. She lost her mother a couple years ago in a long, drawn-out way, and I can only hope for her sake this doesn't play out the same way.

Take Me Out OF The Ball Game


Take me out of the ball game,
Take me out of the crowd,
Buy me some stuffed animals and a battery-powered aid,
I don't care if I ever get laid

Seriously. I've had it. I'm done. The Night of 1,000 Rejections has put me over the edge. Last night I went to Century Club, the cheesiest club I have ever been to (surpassing even B&T king Webster Hall for the Morgan Stanley Christmas party, where I was hit on by the cigar-smoking, pomaded, 5'1" head of derivatives trading), for The Annual Bash, where all the law school students in the LA area convene for a night of stoopid dancing and a lot of drink. I only went on some glutton-for-punishment impulse that I can't control, thinking maybe the lame crush I've invented as a replacement for my last crush would be there. And what do I get? I get dancing on my own with my adorable classmate and her adorable friend on the dance floor, who are surrounded by hunky 22-year-olds clamoring for a chance. I get usurped while talking to someone I DON'T EVEN LIKE by another adorable classmate. And I get my crush, dancing suggestively all night long in the smoke machined back room with some Eurotrash blond I've never seen before.

So. I'm done. Over and out. I'll see you in July 2005 when Saturn moves on from its mission of torture in my life.



Well, the inevitable(s) happened. School started again, I got a B in Civ Pro, I already got called on in class, and Brad & Jen broke up.

Luckily, none of it was as bad as I thought. And on the upside, I got to flirt with a cute boy, meet a freelance rabbi, and start working on helping a Kenyan woman receive asylum in the U.S. so she doesn't have to go back and receive FGM.

I've been on the lookout at school for post-vacation changes (don't you remember those from elementary school - everyone had new haircuts and new clothes?). These are the noticeable trends:

  • Boys have shaved off their perma-goatees and finals-week fuzz
  • The long-haired boys have realized the error of their ways and instituted new mid-length coifs
  • Many, many long-term, long-distance relationships have ended
  • Previous semester's crushes have intensified after three weeks of pining
  • There is A LOT more reading. Fuuuuck.

The Jig is Up


It's Sunday and school starts tomorrow. Ugh, those words are horrible. I have reading to do but I am procrastinating until this evening. At least I'm starting the semester with a clean house:

Last night I had a mini belated birthday celebration, which I think adds to my overall deflated feeling. Parties are fun but the day after all you have is a headache and — if you're lucky and remember your camera that night (I didn't, but Amber gave me a cool disposable one and I did get a few pics) — a few pictures. Laurie picked me up and we headed to Mexico City to meet Rebecca, Shannon and Karman for dinner. This was a repeat of last year's birthday plan -- only this year we had the added bonus of the Gyllenhals, Maggie and Jake, plus Maggie's boyfriend (?) Peter Saarsgard sitting at the table next to us! Both Jake and Peter had shaved head and looked amazing, as did Maggie minus shaved head.

After Mexico City we headed to the Dresden, also a repeat of last year, only this year more crowded, and Marty and Elaine seemed to play interminably — although perhaps I only feel this way because I was sober compared to last year. Anyway, my law school friends all showed up, and Natalie, Damion and Porcia gave me stickers to add to my collection, and sweet Neeta gave me a year's subscription to Bust Magazine, which I love! Add to this a throw, pciture frame, a Feng Shui book, 2005 Capricorn year-ahead book, candle, A Little Joy, A Little Oy desk calendar, coffee mug set, Before Sunset, and Barnes & Noble gift card and I made out like a bandit. Woo hoo! OK, talking about all my bootie perked me up a little bit. Perhaps I'm ready for the new semester after all.

I'm Broken


I totally broke my toe today. An innocent mis-step out of the shower and my toe is purple and swollen into an odd shape. Lovely. Some days everything is just off, I guess. I also took an hour-and-a-half detour around Mulholland today when Sunset was closed, received a paper cut, and jammed my right fourth finger.

In better news, I got an A in Criminal Law. How I did this, I have no idea. I was honestly waiting for a big fat C. Now I need the verdict in just Civil Procedure. There, I am haunted by my failure to address some key aspects of summary judgment and am anticipating a less than stellar grade.

The Clean


I am knee-deep in The Clean - you know, the semi-annual clean you do where you touch every item in your home. Unsolicited advice - don't start The Clean when you still haven't fully unpacked from travelling. You'll find at the end of Day One you've done a lot but your apartment still looks like a disaster.

I did take a few breaks, though, like, say, EVERY 10 MINUTES to check to see if my grades are up. This is torture, this waiting. I got an A- in Torts, but this doesn't bode well since that's the course I thought I did well in. If I only pulled an A-, I foresee a couple Bs or maybe a B and C in my future. UCLA is on a mandatory curve - 20% As, 60% Bs, 20% Cs. And when you go to school with a bunch of overachieving nutcases (I say this with lots of love in my heart), your prospects are not very promising from the start.

Also, here's my list of New Year's Resolutions.

Back Home


Why is it that every time I return home from vacation I am covered in bruises? Is airplane travel that hazardous? Is it the awkward and heavy luggage (that NO ONE ever seems to help me load into the overhead compartment, even though it's practically BIGGER THAN ME!)? The drinking? I didn't think I was a stumbler, but perhaps I am.

I'm back in LA after Christmas in Redding and then New Year's in Boston. Christmas was fun, although marred somewhat by another fight with my sister. Ah well. Our family is decidedly lacking in drama, so I guess my sister and I are the requisite dose.

For New Year's, after a wonderful dinner at Taranta in Boston's North End with my friend Katie, we rang in the New Year with her boyfriend Christian's grandmother Sarah, who was home watching Regis Philbin fill in for Dick Clark. I tell you, there is nothing like ringing it in with an 80-year-old who can't hear a word you say but likes to sass you all the same.

My birthday is January 3rd, so we had a celebratory dinner the evening of the 2nd, since I was spending my birthday in the air. We went to Kates' favorite restaurant in Boston, Sel De La Terre. Oh. My. God. I love french food. LOVE IT. My top 5 favorite foods of all time are duck (preferrably confit, but I'll take it any fashion), paté, cheese, chocolate, and Coca-Cola. The French know how to do the first four right, and are friendly to the Coca. And I never get to eat good french food. I was in heaven.

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