Watch it Man....I have a Beverage Here!!!

Guess what I did at two in the morning last night? I called the POLICE!!

So there are these gay guys that live above me. I hear them fight frequently in the middle of the night. Usually it starts with them shouting at each other, cursing, yelling. Then things start smashing around who knows what is going on but it always sounds like a brutal fight. Then everytime after they quiet down, they vacuum. Maybe it is because they really need to clean from what they broke during the fight, maybe it is just their ritual, or mayb gay-make-up sex includes a vacuum!?!? I don't know.

Last night I came home around 10:30 from a full day studying. I was planning on one more hour of work and then hitting the sac, I wake up at 6:22 (with the sun) I wanted to get a full night of sleep because I had an exam today. I was so well prepared for the exam I didn't want to blow
it on not being able to think due to lack of sufficient sleep. A few minutes after I got home it started. Music was blasting, voices were screeming, laughing, singing along, shoes were clobbering all over. They kept plaing the same song over and over and over. After listening for awhile I was convinced. It was 5-6 drag queens rehearsing. They must have been wearing those huge drag queen shoes. The noise level was insane!!

At 11 it was getting worse. I called Laura, and she just commented that they should find a better song. Then I called Brad and he told me I should call the cops? Call the cops? No way I would find a better plan. First I blasted real thug music, stuff I was convinced would offend drag-queens, either that or someone would call the police on me and then I would point them upstairs (YES, I am the queen of passive-aggresive)

When that was going nowhere, I got up on a chair and started banging my plastic cup on the cieling, that did nothing. Then in my PJs I walked up the stairs. I was right outside their door. I would just knock, and when they opened the door I would say, Hi, I live downstairs, and...well... the thing is I have this HUUUUGE exam tomorrow, and I was wondering if, uh, it would be possible to..SHUT THE FUC* UP??!?!

No that wouldn't work. I came back downstairs and called Brad again to complain. It was now around midnight and not only had I not done any work I really just wanted to go to bed. Brad told me to call the police.

Midnight came and went and I was furious! I tried all my techniques again, blasted music, banged my cup, went up the stairs and planned my encounter....

Around 1am I called maintenance, nobody answered the phone. There goes the benefit of having a man on call 24-7. Even that guy was getting Z's.

So I did it, around 1:30. I called the police. They were really friendly and very prompt, which was good becuase between the time I called and the time they arrived I was praying they wouldn't stop making the insane amount of noise because I didn't want to be the prude that can't take a little noise. Two squad cars rolled up, I buzzed them in.

I heard them knock twice before the queens answered the door. In my mind I imagined 6 huge guys in full drag answering the door. The cops would be shocked and confused, they would look over their shoulders and see drugs and alcohol. They would arrest these noisy queens and I would be a hero. I watched out my window as the police left. There was some laughter above but the noise was gone.

I crawled into bed closed my eyes and yawned.

But then they started up again, I was furious, they didnt arrest all of them? they didn't feel bad that they were keeping others up, have they no soul?

I was considering calling the police back but for some shitty reason didn't I hated them now, one of those deep hates that stems from the gut. If I ever saw these guys/ladies on the street I would kill them...slowly.

I turned the TV a little louder and somewhere around 2ish I finally fell asleep no thanks to the queens above me.

Tomorrow is my first exam of second semester, second year. Half of me has the been there done that feel, the other half is FREAKING out. Brad knows how I get...I'm gunna fail... Well I feel pretty confident about this one. I really enjoyed the class, really enjoyed the teacher (side note to come later) I made a complete outline all by myself, went through it with a friend, did two practice exams, then actually went in to see the professor, went over the practice exam with him, and he ultimately told me I had an excellent grasp on the material.

My side note on this professor: Trust me, I am not a big talker in law school, or as dad would call them "electric arms" but for some reason I became a regular talker in Wills and Trusts to the point that everytime a question went unanswered the professor would just look my way. With one exception I have always been right on. The exception was when I argued it wasn't up to the lawyer to ask the client if he had any new children since his last updated will. The professor said that the class would happily visit me in Florida...the only state that wouldn't sue me for malpractice.

Getting back to the side note though, one case I talked for an hour about had a man that died and in his will he left 15 viles of his sperm to his girlfriend, and his two grown children were contesting the will and trying to get the viles destroyed. I must admit that I was really hot in class. After class I was in the lounge and the professor walked by. He came up to me, in a group of my friends and said "you did an outstanding job in class today"

I think it was a combination of the wierdness of being complemented by a professor, being infront of my friends, and my usual ability to make a fool of myself but I responded

I GUESS I"M JUST A SPERM EXPERT

Come on!! who says things like that to professors? to anyone? Man oh man!

Let me just tell you with the 3 or 4 friends that were there with me, it took a matter of nanoseconds for everyone in the school to hear what happened and let's just say I had a new nickname for a few weeks.

The joke still surfaces once in a while.

I MADE IT! For those of you that don't know I keep a journal unlike any other, this puppy details every day for the past four years, it includes funny/sad/shocking e-mails, all my ticket stubs newspaper articles, post cards, etc. So, when I saw a picture of 10,000 of us walking strong from the March of Dimes I cut it out for the journal.

I jokingly showed it to Shelly saying, "There we are!!" a total lie since besides the 10 people in the front people were just dots.

Later on that night I was just looking at it while talking to mom, and there I was... at first I wasn't sure but come on, how many other people were wearing frog hats with legs sticking out and two giant eyes on top. I could also see half of Shelly's head to my right. I was certain!!

I made it into the Chicago Sun-Times!!!!

It has been difficult dealing with this new found fame, but I'm taking it one day at a time. Signing all those autographs is really taking time out of my studying but you can say no to those kids?

I was told it was a two mile walk. I figured I could do it in 30 minutes and be on my way back home. But as the details unrolled I learned that I would be devoting a little more time to this "wallk"

March of Dimes - we raised money for premature babies. This is easy, I had a great system
"give money to the march of dimes?"
"no thank you."
"it goes to pre-mature babies"
"no thank you"
"what are you AGAINST pre-mature babies????"
"no, here is ten dollars"

First of all I had to roll out of my appartment at 7am. Now, I am by no means one of those sleep 'til 2pm people, but setting an alarm for before 7am is truly not my thang. Woke up cranky, Brad at least knows how I am when I am cranky.

They cranky went full blown CRANK when I went to meet up with friends and their were worms everywhere due to the overnight storms. For those of you that don't know I have a worm fobia. That might be misleading, I am not afraid of the worm, I am afraid of my foot stepping on top of the worm. So there I was tip toeing around the worms, looked like a freak I'm sure.

Found three spots of vomit on the street, somebody must have had a good time last night? who goes out on a saturday night anymore?

Finally I meet up with Shelly, she is wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with long underwear. It is incredably foggy but warmer than we both expected. We meet up with Sarah at the L and take it down town. More people headed to the walk get on and ask us "you guys ready for 6 miles?"

SCUZE me? Baking Powder? Surly you did not just say 6 miles, surly you jest. what the?

So we meet up at our tent, yeah it was the smallest one there, apparently my fraternity is cheap.

Sun was getting warmer so I ditched the sweatshirt and the jacket, was thinking about ditching my fleece pants but Shelly said it would be wrong to walk in my underwear. I disagreed.

As promised, I whipped out the frog hat and put it on. Now this is not just a hat with a frog on it this is a frog that my face goes in. It has the four legs hanging off it and huge eyes on top.

Besides the one boy in the stroller who started to cry when I waived I think it went over pretty well. A camera man came up to me and started directing me, I was an instant celebrity. Parents came up to me asking if their children could take my picture, can you pose with my Sammy? Will you take a picture with my Katie? Dude I was freakin famous! but I was a frog.

We got ready at the start line and we were off. Thousands of people around us. 6 miles ahead...no sports bra.

A few miles into the jiggle walk, we got to some very busy streets in Chicago and got to hold up traffic while thousands of us crossed. Taxi cabs don't like that and the honking they produced was almost musical.

The low point was when some boy yelled out HEY ALIEN HEAD... I went right up to that fuc*er and said listen MR I am a frog not an alien, get it right. Despite my authority I think he laughed.

Checkpoints were fun! Except the first two snacks I couldn't eat.

Shelly hit a wall at mile 4, I didn't think she was going to make it. I mean she isn't exactly what we call an athlete but I thought she would be able to do it no problem, it was just walking right? I offered to carry her the rest of the way but she turned me down. what we would do for love.

6.2 miles - we were finished, Shelly was barely alive, I was seriously up for another 6.2 if it meant I didn't have to go home to study. On the finish lane we were adorned with gifts, a jug of Folic Acid pills, awesome, now I can get pregnant. Discovery lip gloss that is lemon scented NOTE: not lemon flavored. key chains, pizza, flavored water, candy... it was pretty cool. Headed back to the tent that was already down?!!? and we headed home.

Shelly and I later had a study group to which we both wore pajamas. You know the comfort zone thing. Overall it was a really fun experience. The frog hat will live on through the generations. Years from now the March of Dimes will tell stories of "the girl who was a frog"

anybody up for another 6.2 next sunday morning?

So there we were, four of us, 8 hours into a study session. Federal Courts is great two hours a week but 8 consecutive hours? We were all getting a little restless, a little giddy, and a little ready to pack it up and call it a day.

At one point I actually started kung-fooing the vending machines after it didn't drop my pretzels. Not only did it not drop my pretzels but the only reason I chose the pretzels in the first place was because there was already a bag hanging on its last thread that apparently must have angered the previous customer.

So I broke out my moves, first a kick to the side, then a stronger kick to the side, then a swift upercut with my palm. I walked back to the study group just a few steps around a corner and laughing as hard as I was I barely got it out, "no need to worry, there is nothing going on back here" They had clearly heard the noise and didn't know what to think.

I then returned to my fight, a few more kicks a few more upper cuts, a few shakes...this vending maching was kicking my ass!! I called for back-up. My friend Chris was summoned and his technique seemed to prevail so take note, he embrassed the machine with both arms, then, as if he was kneeing a gentleman in the balls, brought his knee up to which must have been the machine's soft spot, and whoop, two bags of pretzels came down. I gave Chris one to thank him but selfishly I wanted both bags.

Back at the study group we were taking a brake to what now unfortunately became communal pretzels. We were clearly all worn, exhausted... and then I said it, on some level I guess I knew I shouldn't have. Maybe it slipped, maybe I was just craving attention, or maybe I wanted a medical justification to get out of exams....

"I HAVE A BLOODY GROWTH ON MY HEAD"

Everyone instantly eeeeuuuuuuuuued me. RIghtfully so, i mean those are crass words when used together. "what do you mean?" ... and then in a moment where all judgment just left me I decided to show Chris. He freaked out, and instantly became a doctor telling me that it looked quasi-infected...(what the hell is quasi-infected) so he gets on the phone with his roomate who was currently in Florida preparing to take her nursing exam.

He is describing what I refer to as my bloody growth by saying "it is like the red thing on your leg, only..." I'm sorry that is when I freaked out, was this so common, what the hell did this girl have growing on her leg that he felt so comfortable bringing up in casual conversation?

So now Beth is interested, (for all you loyal readers, this is the bride to be) I show her and she nearly vomits/faints and gasps with her hands on her mouth. I laughed so hard I was now in tears. I kept telling them that it really hurt and I was getting concerned.

Chris hangs up telling me that the roomate told him I shold wash it with soap, um, ok. i'll just run to the washroom, squirt some of that pink goo on my hand and start rubbing it. That should take care of the freakin BLOODY GROWTH on my head!!?!?!

So now everyone is giving advise and asking questions. I started off just wanting to tell a funny story now i had three friends a step away from bringing me to the hospital!

Then my drugy friend walks by (yes, we all have a drug friend but I swear to you mine is more drugy than any of yours, big time) I tell him I have a bloody growth on my head and before offering any sympathy, before asking if I was ok he says, "Sister, you gotta stop saying things like that, nasty!" HA HA

I covered it with my hand and Shelly shouts NO NO YOU GOTTA LET IT BREATHE! to which Mr. Drugy responds, don't "say let it breathe" that makes it worst.

Studying was the last thing on everyone's mind now and we all hopped a bus home. the man behind me had this horrible cough that made it clear that he must have some severe germs spewing out of his mouth I was getting concerned especially since I was now convinced there was a direct link between the outside world and my brain through a portal I like to call my bloody growth which had developed the nick name BG over the last hour of discussion.

Later on the bus ride Shelly yells out to me "how is the bloody growth doing?" only to get elbowed by Chris, she turns to ask why he did that when we both notice the man sitting next to her has a real bloody growth on his face! EEEEKKK awkward moment!

In honesty the BG on my head is really just a bad wound that I admit might have needed a little medical attention but now just needs time to heal. I bumbed it on a swinging cabinet door in the kitchen. It started gushing and it looked like a deep wound but I was pre-med, I could handle it. So i sterilized a needle and sewed it right up. no i'm kidding. I just let it healed, then i picked a little at it, you know, nerves and all. and well now it is just a BG.

I MADE IT!!! I am in the TIP Clinic (Technology/Intellectual Property) DePaul is nationally-ranked with its IP program. In the fall I will start meeting with clients, counseling them on the best way to protect their creations, drafting patent claims, providing copyright and trademark infringemnt advice etc. For those of you that don't know this is exactly what I wanted to go to lawschool for. Intellectual Property!!

My embarassing moment number 598,043,621 ...

I love the smell of men's deoderant...there I said it. And, well, sometimes my fetish gets the best of me and I am compelled to walk into the nearest drug store. So there I was, in the back of aisle 2 smelling the best Old Spice has to offer when I hear my name. I look up and there he was. Jeremy Segall.

Now my history with Jeremy Segall is a two year saga, the details of which I will spare you. It all started when I first moved to Chicago two years ago. I hopped the wrong bus by accident, and at the next stop he walked on. It took me a minute to place the familiar face but then I had it.

Since he lived in the building next to me, I continued to see him everywhere, on the bus, at the stores, down town, everywhere. I started giving the friendly smile, not knowing if he recognized me.

Then one night at the grocery store - I had just been telling fellow Michiganders that I see Jeremy Segall everywhere - and there he was. I walked right up to him. The confidence would have shocked any close friend. And the result, was awkward moment 471,920,683. Keep in mind that besides being the girl that smile at him a few times a week he probably didn't know who I was. I blurted out "I was just talking about you" awkward stare I introduced myself and told him how I knew him. But it all came out in one giant fuzz ball.

Once the brain caught up with the moment and I realized that I would be embarassed to now me right now I just walked away which in retrospect made it worst.

So for two years those smiles turned into smiles + "hi" Our circles overlap everywhere so a few times a week I would see him. Sometimes I admit I would run away just to avoid the possibility of upping my awkward count.

Pick up at CVS... me in the deoderant isle. I quickly put the deoderant away smooth as if Masterpiece Theater fades in as the host closes a book and returns it to the shelf. We ended up talking for quite some time. And somewhere in that conversation it struck me... I'm in love.

I wasn't even listening anymore, I was confused, yet convinced, I even started to shake with adrenalen.

He said he had to go pick up his bike and in a moment of what I want to call pure confusion I blurted in pure shock. "YOU HAVE A MOTORCYCLE?!" He lifted his helmet that I will have you know he was holding the entire time. I will also fill you in on the detail that it was CLEARLY a bicycle helmet. Needless to say he gave me the you must be mentally challanged look and corrected me.

It's alright, at least I hade a 10 minute, non awkward conversation with my love, and I deserved it after being in this relationship for two years.

In other bagderno news, I ate a pound of onion mixed with three egg whites for dinner... it was gross.

Today was a turning day. First day without a coat, first day I start wearing suntan lotion, first day mobs of people came out to enjoy the weather, first day I smiled to myself....in a really long time. I've had a really rough few weeks, but today was beautiful outside and in.

In more bagderno news... I ate 1.26 pounds of asparagus with dinner. Now I know what you are thinking you are either thinking wow, stinky pee, or you are thinking thank goodness you aren't shacking up avec an homme ce soir... depending if your mind runs on the PG channel or the R channel.