My First Time Ever

Oh all you lurkers-get your head out of the gutter! (I know who you are!). Last week I worked a charity event. It entailed me helping models dress for a runway show. This was a bigger deal than I thought. Volunteers were asked to wear comfy clothing, being that we're dressing models, we should not be in stiletto heels hobbling around. Ok cool-I wore a long sleeve, jeans, and Converse. I figured there'd be a back entrance. NOPE. Walked the damn red carpet. So I'm not sure what was worse-the fact that I thought I looked like a slob, or the fact that when I walked, all the paparazzi put their cameras down and the lights went out. Fabulous.

The main concept of being a dresser for a model is that they can't dress themselves. Literally. With their hair and make-up all done up, they can't risk getting foundation or lipstick on the collar of their tops and whatnot. This is what they didn't tell us about dressing models-if you have kids, you're going to be a pro at it. Try putting a top on a model when she's trying to put on earrings. I wanted to yank her arms out. This was after I wanted to throw up. Models are deathly skinny. You don't realize just how skinny until you're standing two inches away. You don't realize just how skinny until your nose is half a centimeter from their knees because you're trying to tie their shoelaces for them. How skinny was model? My model's first outfit included silver hotpants. No joke. And a silver jacket that barely covered her non-existent assets.

These models are 6 feet tall. Without shoes. And their calves are the size of my wrists. I wanted to throw up. But I'm smarter than that. That and I just bought some Ben & Jerry Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream.

Ye Shall Know The Truth

I love all those one hit wonder songs. They're sappy. They're catchy. They're all right up my alley. So up my alley that I have 38 of VH1's Top 40 Worst One Hit Wonder Songs. I had them before the show aired.

Yesterday I was yapping with one of the IT dudes and I mentioned how shocked I was that my new i-Pod did not have any Milli Vanilli songs. For some reason they didn't make it from my old laptop to my new laptop, and subsequently didn't make it into my new i-Pod. So today, he BRINGS IN his Milli Vanilli CD. Yes!! Someone owns it!!! As a tribute, I've played the CD the whole day. Not the whole CD, because lord knows they weren't that good. But I had 4 songs on repeat. Their only famous 4 songs. But that's 3 more than a one hit wonder.

So here I am in my cube jamming to 'Blame It On The Rain.' Life is good. General Counsel (GC) walks by, stops three steps pass my cube, turns around, and starts laughing at me (I'm actually quite used to this now). We wax nostalgic about Milli Vanilli, and he says, 'Rob and Fab.' Whoah-you know their names?? Yes! I had their CD when I was a kid!! Once again, this is GENERAL COUNSEL talking.

Not to be outdone, the Chief Compliance Officer walks by, and informs us that she WENT to a Milli Vanilli concert way back when because her kids wanted to go. It was a show with Paula Abdul and some other washed up 90s star.

And this is why my group gets along so well.

You can pinch his cheeks. 5 bucks for one, 8 bucks for both (College ain't cheap).

What exactly are 'nutmeats'??

Tabula Rasa

For the past few days I've been having a crisis. Not a mid-life crisis because I can't afford a Porsche, but I guess it'd be considered something similar. It all started with the Dodgers game last week. The Dodgers game I went to and had a blast at. The Dodgers game where I was on the outset of celebrity.

It was a foul ball. Most people sitting in the area where foul balls are prone usually bring a glove. I didn't. First and foremost, because I don't own a glove. A close second is the fact that even if I did own one, I wouldn't catch the ball anyway. Whenever something scary is about to happen, I usually close my eyes and start humming. Trust me, it's hard to catch a ball when your eyes are closed and you're rocking. Its hard to catch anything besides weird stares.
But the section I was sitting in was behind a net, which serves the distinct purpose of ruining pictures and saving our lives from foul balls.

Except this one. It was in the latter half of the game, and the foul ball went up high and looked like it was coming down in my section. Fight or flight. What do I do? Grab my purse, stick it over my head and start chanting to myself. I know people have gotten hurt big time from attempting to catch a foul ball with their bare hands. I can't imagine the damage it'd inflict on a noggin. My noggin for that matter. And this being a baseball game? The seats are somewhat akin to an airplane. TIGHT FIT. There's no where to run. I can't dive onto the floor (I seriously contemplated that at the beginning of the game) because there's about 1.3 inches from my friend's knee to the back of the seat in front of him. So I shrivel up and chant underneath my purse.

Here's the thing: I always thought that in life or death situations, your life is supposed to flash before your very eyes. Trust me-I perceived this as one of those situations. HB and LG didn't think so. In fact, they were laughing at me. I was a one woman side show...
But anyway, so I was scared. Scared shitless. I DO NOT want to be beaned by a baseball. What if I go into a coma? I don't even know what kind of medical insurance I have. I assume I have medical insurance. Which hospitals are good? What if I get brain damage? So many questions so little answers. This I chalked up to a 'life or death' moment. What do I expect to be running through my head? Oh I dunno-maybe good memories? I'll even take some bad ones to mix things up. But NO. Nothing. No memories, no good throughts, no questions about the pearly gates (assuming I go up and not down). My mind was BLANK.

My conclusion: I haven't done anything worthwhile with my life. I'm almost 30, and I have a couple of degrees behind my name. I can't drive, don't know cardinal directions, and love ice cream. That about sums me up in one sentence. Hence, my crisis. As I was telling my coworkers, even Britney's done enough to last two or three lifetimes. I haven't done enough to fill up 10 seconds worth of time while I'm waiting to see if I'll get clocked with a baseball.

Sad.

I've done a ton of work with the Make A Wish Foundation of Greater Los Angeles. While that's fun and all, I think that that's basic. I firmly believe that everyone should do some kind of community service to make society a better place. So, I haven't done anything significant. Like cure AIDS. Or save someone from drowning. The only thing I've done is help an old lady across the street. And throw out the kitchen trash on a periodic basis...

A dash of ambition, two shakes of luck, a swirl of delirium

From: Legalmisfit
Sent: Monday, October 01, 2007 10:25 AM
To: EA; CT
Subject: RE: lunch tomorrow

Yeah—I’m trying to lose weight too. Don’t believe me? Ask Clint.

While we’re on the whole losing weight topic, here’s my new goal: to get Britney’s body (pre-marriage and subsequent downward spiral) before Britney does.

I know-lofty goals.

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EA's response???
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From: EA
Sent: Monday, October 01, 2007 10:32 AM
To: Legalmisfit; CT
Subject: RE: lunch tomorrow

I think that’s awesome. My goal is to make Beckam look like a couch potato… Talk about lofty goals