Friday, December 01, 2006

A public service announcement

Twenty-seven is old. At least, that's the medical diagnosis.

In conversation the other day Sommer asked if I knew anything about that new vaccine that can prevent cervical cancer, but I didn't and neither of us knew anyone who'd gotten it. I already had an appt to get my bc today, so I figured I'd ask my doc about it since I was there. Turns out 27 is outside the "range" they've given for the vaccine. It seems that I used to be totally at risk but in the eight months since my birthday I've apparently had so much sex that I must have now acquired the virus. That's their logic anyway. Then there's poor, just-past-her-birthday-and-now-too-old-to-live Sommer:

Sommer: so, i'm a week too late?
Sommer: to prevent cancer? aargh

Yup. Sorry, dude. A lot happens in a week. Civilizations rise and fall. We outlive our cancer-preventing medical miracles. You know. I didn't get too much more info, except that it's not widely available yet despite the onslaught of commercials you're seeing, and that it costs an arm and a leg (seriously, it's twice as much as the most expensive vaccine I got for India). But if you're one of those at-risk youngins, you might want to inquire before you turn into an old, infected fart like me.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

I'd rather buy four Justin Timberlake tickets.

Ugh, jesus. I just got the bill for my California bar annual dues. How much, you wonder? Guess.

  • It's bigger than a breadbox. Er, wait. Actually, if you piled up the $1, it'd be like, two breadboxes.

  • If the number were in Rupees, it'd be just enough to buy my lunch around the corner at Jack's Deli.

  • You could probably buy a small monkey from the National Zoo for this much.

  • Okay this is getting boring. I've lost my funny today. I must have left it in my dark, dark bedroom that gets no light and is insanely difficult to wake up in. New House: 2047893, Old House: 1.

    Four hundred effing dollars. That's how much Cali wants from me. Maybe I should file for inactive status, since I only need the D.C. bar for my current job. Anyone know the pro/cons with that? I suppose I could look this all up, but I know you guys know and you're just holding out on me.
  • Wednesday, November 29, 2006

    unplugging, voluntarily and not

    Verizon just told me there's a "delay" in hooking the DSL into my phone line at the new place. Arg. I hate being without internet at home. Actually, if I hang out perched in the front windowsill, I can scam some wifi off the neighbors, but that's not really a comfortable place to do much, you know. I might have to become one of those creepy people who rents a van and drives 5mph around the neighborhood pirating signals. And wearing an eye patch.

    I am, however, slowly weening myself off television. With the tivo I would program whatever new show hit the airwaves into my "season pass." But the truth is, I never used to watch tv. I didn't watch it growing up, I didn't watch it in college. Only a Buffy marathon five Thanksgivings ago got me watching anything on a regular basis. So, when I stop watching, I find I just don't miss it. Of course, I'm going to have to buy a damn tivo anyway (and by "buy" I mean they're pretty much free everywhere), because Heroes is my new Buffy, and I CAN NOT miss it while I'm in India. God damn, that show is so effing good. Also, Battlestar Galactica. BUT THAT'S IT! I swear. I'm unplugging. Most of the time. (With an eye patch.)

    My plan is to start reading again. Sometime during law school I totally stopped reading real books. Like, books that weighed less than 50lbs and didn't contain treatises on Antitrust laws (though, that was a good one!). I have maybe a handful of novels I finished during those three years, and each one took me literally months to finish. No more! I'm removing the self-imposed bookstore ban (from when I continued to buy books all the time and just not read them). Though I never do this, I actually bought a book in the National airport on my way to Cali earlier this month. It was The Time-Traveler's Wife (I liked the cover), and you know what, it was really good. Technically it's a love story, but the guy actually time travels, and it's believable. The author could have written it a million different ways, too, and so you spend a lot of time thinking about why she chose to write this part before that part, and also just pausing to think about how Future Husband is affecting Past Husband's life. It's really quite good. And made me cry. On the metro. Yeesh.

    I left work early last Friday and went over to Borders. God. Bookstores are like magical castles. I always feel like I'm walking in to Disneyland. Where to go first?? New releases? Political? Reference?? (Christ, I have a huge weakness for reference books. I'm not even kidding. For Christmas a few years ago my mom bought me a ginormous Webster's Unabridged Dictionary. I love it like a child.) I had seven books in my hand within twenty minutes. I whittled it down to three, though. (And was disappointed to see they had maps for every country in the world except India. Lame.)

    So, I finally picked up Confessions of an Economic Hitman, which Chai has been encouraging me to read (and is, so far, really good). I also picked up Namesake, about an Indian family that emigrates to the U.S. There were no less than three books in the small section of new fiction releases that were about Indian families. And I also picked up a reference book (naturally) on travel writing, just to pick up a few tips and learn some more about pitching stories. I've started reading before bedtime again every night, and hope to gear up to the point I used to be at, voraciously reading through my collection; not mindlessly watching another Law & Order marathon.

    What about movies, you say? Don't see Babel. Unless you need some inspiration to slit your wrists because life is nothing but a series of intersecting disappointments and utter tragedies for everyone on the planet. That is all.

    Tuesday, November 28, 2006

    Yes, I really am this excited about a bathtub.

    So yeah, the moving. Due to many generous friends and neighbors, it all went smoothly. I managed to convince Sylvie, even after her visiting parents made her get up at 6am for Black Friday, to trek over to Ikea with me later that night (I figured we'd miss the impending onslaught of returning DCers) to get a couch. We slid in the store just as the doors were closing and high-tailed it out of there, pretty beige couch in hand. It wasn't too heavy for us to carry, but the plastic sheeting it was wrapped in kept slipping around its corners, and as we dropped it once more on the sidewalk to my house, an SUV stopped next to us and a lady yelled out, "Hang on there, my husband's going to help you! I told him it was alright." Ha. They double parked, he jumped out and carried it in for us. Nice, huh?

    Saturday morning I managed to corral Arish and Sylvie over to haul the furniture. Despite a predicted incident of my desk not fitting down the stairs and a subsequent disassemble, everything went perfectly and we were done by 3:30.

    Then, against all my better judgment, after moving for three days straight, barely sleeping, and losing my appetite due to moving stress, I decided to go to a party. I cleaned my old house top-to-bottom after returning the truck and eating the only meal I had all day (a kraut dog with Syl at union station eateries), I managed to unearth some clean clothes in the chaos and hopped over to Sommer's to drink lots of beer, followed by lots of liquor. Hey Mensa! I'm right here! (Why don't you guys call anymore?) After it all eventually hit me and I nearly fell asleep in the middle of a conversation, I made my way home to sleep the first night in my new house (in my new queen bed!) inebriated. Naturally.

    Very hungover the next morning, I attempted to stumble around and unpack some stuff, which was only making me nauseous, so I thought maybe I'd take a shower to wake up. So I turn on the water and then it hits me — I have a bathtub now! Maybe it's just a case of "you don't know what you've got til it's gone," because I was never much of a bath taker before. My last house had a shower stall that required cirque de soleil-like contortions just to shave my damn legs. But not only do I have a bathtub now, I HAVE A BATHTUB WITH JETS. And it's effing large. Or at least, large enough for me to sit without my knees bending. There's even a slope on the end so your head fits comfortably, and two ledges about halfway down the tub for your arms. It's totally brilliant. And you know what, it's the new Official Hangover Cure. And by hangover cure, I mean, I'm Taking A Bath Every Night Til I Die. Or Move Out.

    Monday, November 27, 2006

    Fashion trends I can get behind...

    Apologies for turning TTtC into Cosmo-wannabe lately, but I've been on a bit of a shopping kick, and also, I invited a bunch of people to this "cocktail party," not thinking that people would actually dress up, but now a few of my friends have told me how excited they are to wear [dress that's been in the back of the closet with no venue to present itself]. So it looks like I might need to somehow acquire an outfit by week's end.

    It's lunch-hour and I was, naturally, doing some online window shopping when I realized there's been a new trend popping in from the wayback machine, its wealth of treasures hidden behind the offensive glare of 80's skinny pants and leg warmers (you have no idea how many girls I've seen wearing these recently. jesus people, could you please look in a mirror before you walk outside?). True to rule of multiples of 20's, I guess, the 1940's have been making a comeback, to my surprise and it turns out, glee. I find myself falling in love with all these adorable chunky pumps and mary janes. Now that I think about it, I've already started wearing a lot of those high-necked, puffy shoulder shirts, and covet the expensive knee-length wool skirts that come back to the stores every fall. Very demure, I suppose, but also very flattering on almost everyone. Maybe it's part of that Britney Spears, super-low rise jeans backlash, except I will rebel against anyone who tries to make me wear highwaisted pants again.

    Okay, enough posting about clothes (for now). My move, if you're wondering (and you should be) went spectacularly, and I'm now living in my dream apartment. I'll write more on that later, including a word on the most awesomest bathtub ever.

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