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My First Time

No, not thatfirst time, you perv.  Although, I will tell you how that ended for everyone involved: in tears. 

Of course, I'm talking about the first time I've been tagged to do a "meme."  And here I thought my entire blog was all about me and there was no way to fit even more stuff about in myself it.  How wrong I was. 

So, the Turkey tagged me to write 6 things about me that make me "quirky."  As I've learned to gladly do whatever the hell JiveTurkey says, here follows a list of my quirks (abbreviated, of course, because there are so many more than 6).

Oh, Boise!

Yesterday morning I flew up to Boise for a hearing and I only got to stay there for about 9 hours, which is sad because I really like Boise.  No, really!  I've only been there a couple of times, but I had so much fun and I remember it fondly as the city where I was able to touch Chris Isaak.  And also the city where I was able to get not one, but TWO free hot dogs from a street vendor! 

I never get invited to the good parties.

Joel and I were on our way to my mom and dad's house last night when we saw this nametag lying on the ground in our stairwell.  We live in a building where the stairwells are open to the street, so crap is always getting blown in from outside.  We weren't too surprised to see it there, since there's usually a little trash strewn about, but upon closer inspection, we were surprised to see what it said:

Really?  Was there a large gathering of 6th graders near my house this weekend?  If so, why was I not invited?  Those are my peeps, man!  I would have loved to throw some back with the Phils (McCrotch, McGroin, or McCrevice)!  Also, I would be super-pissed if Phil's brother Pat was there because I haven't seen that dude forever!  I hear Ben Dover makes one hell of a margarita and when I. P. Freely gets a couple drinks in him, well... I'm sure you can guess what he does.  I'm just really mad at my girlfriends Amanda Faulk and Anita Hanjaab for not telling me about this.  They are usually so on top of things. 

What does it say about me

when I get excited about this:

I bought one of these little beauties for my office and it finally came yesterday afternoon, so we all got to have wonderful, wonderful coffee this morning.  It was kind of funny, too, because when we were getting it ready to go, a crowd formed around us and everyone ooohed and ahhhed like this thing was our newborn baby and it was just taking its first crap.

I feel like it's ok, though, because it wasn't just me who was excited.  Pretty much the whole office was peeing their pants over it.  So, my whole office is weird.  Not just me.  Some people might get excited about adding a new member to their rafter, but since I don't have that particular blessing, I get excited about single-serving coffee makers.   Did you know this can make espresso?  AND cappuccino!  You want some?  Well, it's just one press of a button away!

Other things that occupy my time and/or entertain me when my office is extremely dull:

• someecards.com-- this, though, is something I'm just plain excited about and love with all my heart regardless of the dullness of my office;
• misspelled words on our intake forms, like "aggrivated" or "purkaset" or "abdomin";
• people with funny last names, like Dr. Goats;
• throwing magnets at the ceiling to see if they'll stick to the metal divider thingys.  (OK, this activity wasn't at this job, but it is something that I did at another job and will probably start doing here if I can't find something to entertain me for the rest of the day.);
• whenever there's a new Dear Abby;
• looking up stuff on wikipedia (for example, I found out that a group of turkeys is called a "rafter");
• trying to determine whether there is someone actually living in the RV that has been parked outside my window for the past week;
• researching how to adopt a chinese baby;
• making up dumb nicknames for my co-workers;

• looking at the adorable little preschool kids who walk outside my window every so often.  They are very cute and they keep them on hooked on to some kind of a leash, which is awesome.

Is there anything I've missed?  What do you do in your office when things get a little slow?  Is there something that you do to entertain yourself at work that you wouldn't do anywhere else?  Please, do tell!

Sarah's Out of Town

and she asked me to write a guest post on her blog, SoulMoxie.  Please go there and enjoy yourselves!  If you're here from SoulMoxie, make yourself comfortable! 

What's Your Sign?

Ok, while I was at work "working" the other day, I came across this site, which generates church signs.   Have you seen this site?  Initially, I got very excited because I love pictures of funny stuff on church signs.  And here is a site that will let you put anything on a church sign.  ANYTHING.  Just imagine the possibilities!  Which is what I did... and I came up empty.  There were too many things running through my mind and, after about 10 minutes, this was the best I could come up with:

And then this weekend I was thinking about it and I thought this might be funny:

And then this morning I thought of this:

And then this:

 

And I'm spent.  That's the best I can do, you guys.  Now you know why I am a lawyer and not a "funny church sign writer."  But, if God really does answer prayers, my application to "funny church sign writers" school will be accepted and I can get the hell out of here.  Just imagine what I can achieve with a little training.  The results, I do believe, would be glorious.

 

 

The Trouble With Carrie

Oh, man, you guys.  I'm usually not one of those people.  You know, those people who see some exotic disease, like Tunesian Intestinal Crocodile Pox or something, on TV or the internet and become convinced that they are afflicted with it.  I mean, sure I've convinced myself I was pregnant a few hundred times-- but who hasn't done that?  However, my job has made me into one of those people.  Big time.

My firm helps people with social security disability claims, so a huge part of the job to go through records with a fine tooth comb to make sure that we have every little detail so we can make every argument possible.  We get people with a lot of different physical problems or mental problems or, most of the time, both physical and mental combined.

I'll be reading through records about epilepsy, not the kind where you have grand mal seizures or anything, the kind where you just kind of space out for a while.  Then I start thinking about how often I come to after a few minutes of staring at my computer with my mouth hanging open and I convince myself that I've also got epilepsy.  Instead of what I really have, which is a staggering case of mouthbreathing and office boredom.

The worst is the mental disorders, though.  Over the past 8 months, I've had ADD, ADHD, schizophrenia, bi-polar.  You name it, I've talked myself into it.  The only problem with this is that I actually do have some issues with depression/anxiety.  Actually, right now I think I have an adjustment disorder with anxiety, but I have yet to actually speak with any medical professional about this diagnosis I've made for myself, so right now we'll say it's just a provisional fake diagnosis. 

Anyway, to help with my mental state, I take medication.  But this has kind of become problematic because sometimes my clients, the ones with pretty bad psychological or psychiatric problems, are taking the same medication as I am.  Sure, they take like 5 times the dosage I do, but that doesn't make a difference to me.  They take this medication, they have a personality disorder, ergo, I have a personality disorder.  It makes perfect sense, right?

By now I'm sure you're thinking to yourself that I actually do have a mental disorder, which is fine because I think that, too!  It's called "somatoform disorder" and I have totally read about it on Wikipedia, so I'm pretty sure that's what I've got.  Either that or Cat Scratch Fever.  We're still waiting for the results on that one.

Every time I think I'm out, it pulls me back in.

I've been thinking a lot about my early teen years for a couple of reasons: Facebook and the Olympics.  It seems like everywhere I turn, there's someone or something from my past trying to force its way into my present. 

First:Facebook.  There are a ton of people from my old ward (Mormon-speak for "local congregation") in San Diego on Facebook and now one of my sisters has started a group for all of us (!!) so we can catch up on what we've been doing since 1992.  Um... I've been drinking and swearing and fornicating-- I've even smoked the weed a little bit.  I'm sure they want to hear all about it. 

Don't get me wrong, it is nice to see that they have all had their million kids and done their part to ensure the truth of the gospel will continue on into eternity.  But unless I am somehow related to said children, that's just not my scene, man.  Also, it makes me feel super old because some of them have kids who are like driving cars and shit and that just frightens me. 

Second:Olympics.  I was kind of excited to see that one of the guys from my ward, Richard Lambourne, actually made it to the Olympic volleyball team.  He always played at church and in high school and then into college and he was very good at it.  He was also very good at being a self-centered a-hole, too, so it's really nice for me to be able to see someone really living the dream and being all he can be!

"But, Carrie," you say.  "You haven't seen this guy since you were 15.  How do you know he's still an a-hole?"  My friends, have I not told you about my ability to spot an a-hole on sight?  It has really come in handy, but it does tend to short circuit a bit when either alcohol or sex is involved.  However, neither of those things is involved here, so my opinion in this matter is irrefutable!  Do not question my a-hole spotting abilities!  (Also, if you have a question regarding whether someone you know or love is an a-hole, send me a picture and I will give you an answer for the low, low price of $19.99.  No need to thank me!  I'm happy to do it!)

Back on topic, though: my past and its ability to turn me into a gawky, insecure, little girl who never felt she was good enough.  I mean, I've done a lot in my life:  I graduated from law school, I got married... started a blog... um... I've read Atlas Shrugged-- twice, motherfuckers.  Also, I did an internship at a local TV station here and I was on TV for, like, 15 seconds once.  I could go on, but I'm sure you get the idea: I'm pretty awesome. 

So, why do I feel like a complete loser whenever I think about how some guy didn't think I was cute enough to dance with?  Why is it that I want to cringe whenever I think about all the time I spent just trying to get people to like me?  And why is it, even now, when I think people don't like me, I am right back in high school again trying to do anything to make them think I'm funny enough or pretty enough or smart enough?

Because I'm human.  I think the main difference is, even though I do have those feelings, I don't let them consume me.  I will probably always have them to some extent, no matter how old I get, but I don't actually believe them (most of the time, anyway) and I am able to base my self-worth on things that actually matter, like cute shoes.  Or fancy purses-- I have a ton of those!

So, bring it on, past feelings of insecurity and unworthiness!  No, really, I could use another Kate Spade.

But More, Much More Than This

When I was growing up, I was fascinated with old movies and movie stars.  To this day, most of my favorite movies were made before 1940 and my two favorite actors of all time, Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant, may have been idols to my grandma's generation, but I was as obsessed with them when I was 13 as any other girl my age was obsessed with the Coreys (Haim or Feldman-- take your pick).  If given a choice between going out to see a recent release or staying home to watch The Philadelphia Story for the millionth time, I'd choose Stewart and Grant and Hepburn every damn time.  I probably still would.

One of my other age-inappropriate obsessions was Sinatra.  It started innocently with some big band music, Glenn Miller and Tommy Dorsey and Benny Goodman, and ended up with me falling in love with Ol' Blue Eyes.  I can listen to any of his songs over and over again and never get tired of any of them.  I still get chills when I listen to My Way (ok, and even tear up sometimes, for reasons explained below) and one of my all time favorite songs is Somethin' Stupid, which is a duet with his daughter Nancy, which in and of itself is kind of creepy because it's a song about two people falling in love, but it's a great song.  I think at one point I wore out my tape because I would play that song and immediately rewind it so I could listen to it again and again and again.

My obsession paid off, though, because I when I was 15, I got to go see him in concert.  It was my very first concert, in 1991 during the first Gulf War, and a lady I babysat for knew I loved Frank and asked if I wanted a ticket to the concert.  She was part of a group of women who were all married to men serving in the Gulf on the same ship as my father and, somehow, they had been given some tickets to the Sinatra concert at the Sports Arena in San Diego.  Can I tell you I thought I'd died and gone to heaven? 

I remember the traffic on the way to the concert was insane.  It was bumper to bumper most of the way and the majority of cars surrounding our van were limos.  When we arrived at the arena, Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme were in the middle of their opening.  The seats were superb-- 3rd row-- and some of the ladies even got to go backstage to meet the man himself.  I wasn't so lucky, but I didn't care because I was just happy to be there.

I sat on the edge of my seat until he took the stage.  I was just a square stage in the center of the arena.  The only thing on it was a stool and a small table with a bottle of amber liquid and a glass.  Being a fairly sheltered Mormon teen, I realized it must have been alcohol but I had no idea what it was.  I later found out it was Jack Daniels and now, as a woman who has had some run-ins with Mr. Daniels herself, I understand how much of a badass he had to be to pound Jack straight up while on stage in front of thousands of people-- and he didn't even throw up at all!

When he finally got up there, he did something I will never forget for as long as I live.  He talked about meeting the women from my dad's ship and he had us all stand up so he could introduce us to the audience.  I am positive that that will be the only time in my life when I will be applauded by thousands upon thousands of people and it was a pretty nice feeling, I have to say.  After that, he started singing and I fell in love all over again.

Sure, he was 75 and he wasn't as slim or as quick as he used to be, but he still had the same blue eyes and that voice that could send shivers down my spine.  And did it ever.  I was in awe.  I couldn't believe that I was seeing this man I had idolized singing my favorite songs just a few feet away from me.  There weren't any light shows or special effects, but there didn't need to be.  It was just him on the stage with his bottle of Jack and a microphone.  It was perfect.

I don't remember all of the songs he sang that night, but I do know that he sang My Way.  He had probably sung that song more times than he could possibly remember, but it meant so much to me to be able to hear it in person.  It still does.  I can still remember the electricity in the air and the emotion in his voice.  You could tell that he meant every word; that he knew he wasn't a perfect person, by an stretch of the imagination, but he wasn't making excuses.  It's true.  He wasn't perfect.  But that night, in my eyes at least, he came pretty damn close.  It was an amazing moment in my life and, to this day whenever I hear that song, I get the same feeling I had that night and I thank God for Frank.

Taco Soup

This recipe comes from Joel's sister-in-law, who is actually not Mormon anymore, but she cooks like she is! It's in the genes, I tell ya! We had this soup last year and it was so tasty, I asked for a copy of the recipe. What I got was a list of ingredients and the instructions "cook meat with onion, some chili powder, and cumin." That was it. What I've written below is how I made it, and it tasted just fine. In fact, I served it to my Mormon family and they all looooooved it!  Some might turn up their noses at this recipe because almost every ingredient is canned, and I'm fine with that.  Just don't think any less of me because I liked it!

Taco Soup

1 lb. ground beef or turkey
1 large onion, chopped
1 T chili powder (or more, if you want)
1 tsp cumin (again, more if you want)
1 large can tomato sauce
1 can green chilis
1 can kidney beans
1 can black beans
1 can corn
1 can mixed veggies
1 can diced tomatoes
1 can diced potatoes
1 envelope taco seasoning
1 envelope ranch dressing
4 Cups water

In large soup pot, cook meat with onion, chili powder, and cumin. Once meat is cooked and onion is tender, drain and rinse beans and drain mixed veggies, corn, and potatoes, add to soup with remaining ingredients, stir and cook until everything is hot or until you're ready to eat.

Seriously, when I saw the recipe, I was like, "An envelope of ranch dressing? Canned potatoes? I've never even seen canned potatoes before." But, once we gathered all of the ingredients, even canned potatoes, and finished the soup, it was pretty dang good!

I think this recipe is pretty typical of Mormon cooking because it's really no muss, no fuss. You can't be making Chicken Marsala every night when you've got a million screaming kids waiting for their dinner. Or, you know, when you don't use wine in your cooking. You get in, throw in a bunch of canned vegetables you have lying around, and you're out! Take it for what it is, but don't knock it until you try it!