cindy's world

I found this Kim Anderson cake topper online and sent the link to Mr. W via IM.

Me: Does this look like us?
it’s 25% off.
Mr. W: When I was 4
me: you had white hair when you were 4?
Mr. W: Blond
me: well then your family would have a hoot.
you had that color hair a couple years ago.
doesn’t that look like me NOW? *nudge *
[A 5-minute silence goes by, I’m wondering whether he’s going to tell me that if I think I look 4, I’m calling him a pedophile.]
Mr. W: Not as beautiful as you are but, some similarities.
me: awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
wwwww!!!!
(what a liar.)

I took 2 hours off of work today and met up with my parents to get all their estate documents signed and notarized at the probate attorney’s office, across the street from my work. They came by my work so they could meet my new courtroom assistant and say hello to the judge. Afterwards, we went to nearby Applebee’s for dinner. The food was mediocre, but my parents enjoyed what they ordered. As we were walking to my car, my mom said to me, “That suit looks good on you. It makes you look thin. Did I buy that suit for you?” I told her that indeed, she did. She continued, “I gotta buy you a new suit — this one is out of style already.” I was too bewildered to be offended. Cuz, like, how does she know THAT? She doesn’t read fashion magazines, every time I’m over the TV’s on some Chinese news station or her Chinese soap opera DVDs, and she doesn’t shop a lot. At least, she doesn’t bring new stuff home often. I wouldn’t know if something’s out of style cuz I can’t and don’t care to keep up with trends, but how does she know? Giving the suit a little bit of thought, however, I remembered that she’d bought it for me shortly before college graduation, in ’98, so I’m sure she’s right that a decade-old suit is out of style.

Remember that DA I dreamt about the other day? He called my courtroom out of the blue today. I wasn’t at my desk, and when I got the message I was shocked, just cuz we hadn’t talked for a long time. I called him back and turns out, he recently got a case in which my judge is on the witness list. Surprised, he called me to give me the scoop. The defendant is a paralegal who, instead of turning in his clients’ court papers to be processed and signed by the courts, forged judges’ signatures to feign processing and entry. My judge was one of the identities he “stole” in this scam. “So how should I serve the subpoena on your judge, should I get a body attachment?” the DA joked. A body attachment is usually a warrant for an uncooperative witness so that police can pick the witness up and force him/her to appear in court to testify. I promised to give my judge a hard time about it and went into chambers to harass him. Although amused by the case, my judge actually was concerned about having to appear in court as a witness, as he’s planning a trip to Ireland with his son. Maybe a body attachment for his appearance DOES have to issue. That would be funny.

Another funky unexpected thing happened at work. I received a large manila envelope addressed to me at work, with the word “personal” written underneath my address. There’s a sticker on the envelope that says “California Overnight: LAX Beverly Hills 90210” so I know it came from Beverly Hills, CA. In the envelope is a page of last week’s LA Weekly, with a post-it attached that reads:

Hey Cindy!
I thought you’d like this article. It’s called: “How to get Divorced by 30, a Beginner’s Guide to Ending Your Starter Marriage”

The envelope and post-it are unsigned, although I have a good feeling who it is. Haha! That’s faith for ya! The article isn’t what I thought it was, though. It’s a 29-year-old’s memoirs as she realizes she would be divorced before she’s past 30, and she reviews what brought her to this point, what was wrong with her prior mentality. Things like, jumping into a relationship prematurely just because the new guy is the opposite of the recent bad ex, believing that opposites attract and having blind spots to fundamental differences that should be taken more seriously, forcing your life to adhere to an arbitrary timetable. Oh, and getting married just cuz all your friends are doing it. Interesting stuff to make sure I’m not doing.

Since I’m going backwards telling all the oddball stuff that happened this afternoon, that brings us to noon, when I was walking down the stairs in the stairwell at work and my left heel caught and stuck on the edge of a step. I grabbed the handrail on my right but at the awkward angle of my feet couldn’t stop myself from sliding forward as the base part of my right heel ground against the edge of the same step and snapped off. I went down and hit my left knee on the cement, the right knee following but without as hard an impact. After the shock of the pain wore off, what ticked me off was that I couldn’t just stop myself from dropping all the way down. What was I doing all those damn squats and lunges for?! But in retrospect, because my heels caught in a way that put my feet at a diagonal against the front edge of cement stairs, there was no way to balance myself. At least all I did was slide into a knee-drop, my hands didn’t even hit the ground. I guess if I didn’t work out, I may have totally lost control, flown forward and done a face-plant. That would not have been attractive. Thank God my coworkers are mostly too lazy to take the stairs at work.

Mr. W’s splurge of the month was the Nintendo Wii game system. When you buy the Wii package at Costco, it costs the same as anywhere else, but the package is much bigger. I think it has something like 3-4 games, controller bumpers, 2 standard controllers and 2 nunchucks. We spent a significant portion of the weekend shooting zombies in House of the Dead 2 and 3, and Mr. W got up early and played Super Mario Galaxy while I was asleep. Today, while I was in bartending class, he “boxed” with his neighbor.

Tangent: Speaking of bartending class, we got to play with water in class today, and turns out my free-pour is pretty damn accurate. My 3-count yields a full jigger, as we found by free-pouring into a glass and then pouring the glass into a jigger for measurement. The low IQ of some of the classmates dropped my jaw a few times, and my gym trainee (who’s taking the class with me) was shocked that I was shocked. She pointed out that people aspiring to be bartenders, especially those who are in their mid-20s, unemployed, and living at home with no clue what they want to do with their lives, don’t tend to be the sharpest tools in the shed. Yeah okay, but still. How could you get lost cutting a lime in half, and not know how to tip a bottle to pour into a glass, and think you’re supposed to empty a full tall glass of water onto a serving mat? Where did you think the water was going to go? Do you SEE a hose attached to the mat? And why do you think you’re leaning over a SINK? Anyways…

Back to the Wii: Because the Wii connects to the internet and seems to imply that you can make your personal Wii characters (called a Mii) mingle and interact with other people’s characters, we figured it’d be fun to connect to Mike (wilco) and Christi (flip flop girl) all the way in Northern California and have our Miis hang out. I called them on Saturday night to ask how we link up. Turns out it’s totally complicated for us cuz we have to exchange Wii system codes, add each others’ systems as “friends”, and allow our Miis to roam globally. Mr. W and I couldn’t even find the screen to get our code information. Mike said it was a 16-digit number that could be found by looking into some envelopes on the screen or something. It wasn’t until way after we’d hung up that we stumbled into the right screen with the right envelopes. So now we can add Wii friends and mingle around the globe! I know Jordan had said that she wanted to get a Wii so she could go Wii bowling with us from Florida.

So who wants to be our Wii friends?

I was IMing with a girl friend of mine last nite about plastic surgery. I said that if I were the plastic surgery type, my most likely procedure would be the tummy tuck. She said she’d get her boobs enlarged. Which reminded me to tell her, “Dude. My boobs shrunk at least 1.5 cup sizes! And I actually can’t bring myself to care.” I personally like that now I can button shirts without things popping open across the chest (altho today I still needed help from a cleverly hidden safety pin) and things that fit my waist now finally fit my chest, too.

My friend wasn’t as thrilled, though. “WHAAAAA, me too!!!!! I don’t know what happened either, like within the last 2 months!”

So my theory: “Maybe it’s eating all the organic foods that’s supposed to be good for you.”
Her: “eff that!”
Me: “Turns out I’m only curvy cuz of the hormones injected in chicken.”

She also said she’d risk the possible paralysis from the botulism virus to smooth out future wrinkles with BoTox.

So our new motto that she came up with: “Vanity does a body good. F–ck milk!”

Anyone want a T-shirt to join the club?

This photo had popped up on Jimmy’s wedding slide show and surprised me, so I’ve asked him to email it to me. Of course people at our table during the reception were like, “Who’s that guy in the middle?” Yup, it’s Mr. W back in his bleached blonde days, before the regular gymming too, I think. I’m sharing just for kicks.

Since the wedding was the first I’d seen this photo, I had no idea when or where it was taken. Jimmy informed me that it was at Killer Shrimp restaurant in Marina Del Ray when he’d come down to LA and a bunch of us met up for dinner, back in March 2006. I actually blogged about that night in this post. The funny thing is that the very last line of that post said that Jimmy took some photos so there may be some pics to post later, and I never got photos until now. I guess “later” is a subjective term anyway. Haha.

Yesterday evening, while Mr. W and I were having dinner with my parents at their house, Mr. W out of nowhere said, “Did you tell your parents you’re going back to school?”

Me: >:O !!!

I KNOW I’d told him that I can’t even tell my parents I’m taking bartending classes because the thought of me getting a 2nd job, and as a BARTENDER of all things, would… well, I don’t know what it would make them do. But it wouldn’t be pretty sunshine, roses and butterflies.

So I glared at him and said, “NO. I didn’t.” And tried to leave it at that, but my mom started asking.
“You’re going back to school? For another degree?”
I said quickly, “No, it’s just like jujitsu where I’m going to a college that teaches things but I’m not working toward a degree.” Good call on the “jujitsu” cuz I think they misunderstood me, thinking I’m just retaking jujitsu.
My dad asked, “Do you get units or credit?”
I said, “No, I can apply under the college directly and get units if I want another degree, but since I’m not, this isn’t graded and it’s just for fun.”
Dad said, “Oh, so you just learn for yourself,” and nodded approvingly. He’s all about enriching your mind and obeying your thirst for knowledge.
I said yes, told them I’m attending a course just for fun one day a week with my coworker, and segued into a story about how Vanessa was enrolled in jujitsu as a student of the college and wasn’t aware of it, so she found out later on that she was graded whereas I’m not a student of the college, so I wasn’t graded. The subject ended.

*whew*.
*glaring at the W*

I’m so uncomfortable after those vivid detailed dreams that deal with people in my life. Hours after waking, those impressions are still there. These dreams make me miss people I shouldn’t miss, nostalgic for things that never truly were, and angry at people whom I have no real-life beef with. I’m fighting the urge to call this old DA friend of mine and see how he’s been since he transferred to Long Beach, call MOH Vicky’s younger sister Karen and yell at her for being a selfish conceited immature brat (and kind of a slut), and call Andrae and gush about how much I appreciate his friendship and loyalty. Over NOTHING! Gah.

I might make the last phone call, tho…Andrae would probably get a kick out of the dream while I still remember it.

I just read this description in Wikipedia about Dodo’s breed, the Scottish Fold:

Scottish Folds, whether with folded ears or with normal ears, are typically good-natured and placid, and are known for sleeping on their backs. They tend to become very attached to their human caregivers and are by nature quite affectionate. Scottish Folds typically have soft voices and display a complex repertoire of meows and purrs not found in better-known breeds.

I could not have said it better myself. Dodo does have a LOT of different sounds, most of which I understand in his unique cat language.

And he’s always on his back!

You guys know my maid of honor, Vicky, right? She called me and told me a story so traumatic for her but so funny for me that I told her she needs a blog. Since she doesn’t have one and doesn’t want to start one, she typed out the story and emailed it to me so that she could make a guest appearance on my blog. So here it is. Main characters are Vicky, her boyfriend Glenn, and her dog, a medium-sized breed of hunting dog called a viszla, Ares:
~ * ~
There is a giant grassy piece of property with grazing cows on it about 2 miles away from where I live. Ares has been really restless in the house so Glenn and I took him to the massive field yesterday. It looked really nice and serene from afar; rolling green hills, a winding dirt path, and the occasional small herd of cows. I imagined myself as Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music.

Ares bolted past us and I grabbed onto his collar. I immediately felt a slimy goo all over my hand. I got him to sit down and took a good look at what he did. He was covered in fresh, green, slimy cow poop! He rolled in it so much that it covered his left eye and it found its way into his ear canal. He was covered in it. The entire left side of his body was one big poopy mess. All I saw was a yellow-greenish slime of chewed blades of grass. I thought I was going to throw up. Glenn tried to consol me [by reminding me that cows are vegetarian and] saying, “It’s alright; it’s just mushed up grass!” I didn’t care. This green slime digested through four cow stomachs and exited from a cow’s butt. Nothing could make this okay.

Why do dogs do this? Is Ares just really retarded or is this something most dogs would do?
~ * ~
“Green slime that digested through four cow stomachs and exited from a cow’s butt”!! HAHAHA, she kills me. That’s what you get for naming a dog after the Greek god of savage warfare. By the way, this is mostly an indoor dog who cuddles with her in bed in the mornings…

There’s a lot of bad stuff going around in the blogosphere today. Instead of adding to it in Cindy’s World, I’m gonna leave instead the Judge’s joke du jour:

Did you hear that they came out with a new Barbie doll called “Divorced Barbie”?
It comes with all of Ken’s stuff.

I’m trying to do more divorce cases but the family law computer program’s down. And then I tried to do a criminal law entry but I couldn’t get around the criminal system’s locks on this issue. I didn’t feel like working out today, so I took a walk to a local law firm and paid for my parents’ living trust documents. Even with a very generous $375 professional discount that this probate attorney gave me, I’m still out $1200.

I really, really want to go home, burrow in my bed and go to sleep.