Exact Approximations

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Bitching Like I Wield BigLaw Power

Our firm uses Accent highlighters.
Lex to Paralegal: Annoyed. "These are absolute trash."

I put in a request for yellow Sanfords.
Paralegal to Lex: Sarcastic. "Picky much?"

Not bending on the important matter of necessary work materials.
Lex to Paralegal: Determined. "Quality record review requires quality highlighters."

Pointing as I recognize that Paralegal's pen holder has not one, but two Sanfords.
Paralegal to Lex: Smiling. "Seniority beats position."

Snatching the closest Sanford.
Lex to Paralegal: Smirking. "Youth beats arthritis."

Rose Petal Pillows

Last night, I screwed up and failed to call Boyfriend on the way home from work. Not a big deal, save that I made a promise to just moments before disregarding it. Again, not such a big deal, save for the part where I was on the phone with Ex-Husband at that time. I offered some lame excuses that Boyfriend is too smart to fall for and which probably left him feeling even worse. Fair enough.

So I get home expecting an episode of him being hurt and me attempting to make amends. But instead of arguing, I came home and proceeded to get some of the best, best, best action ever. I dunno how I deserved it, but I took it. THEN - on top of that, Boyfriend went to go get milk and brought me back a perdy flower. I love perdy flowers. I should be thoughtless more often.

So I take a petal from the perdy flower and put it under my pillow. When I was a kid, there was this old-wives tale that when you put a rose petal under your pillow, you dream about the man you will marry.

This is the dream that followed:

At home, Boyfriend is filled with concern and begging me to stop packing. I admonish that all will be well. I am off to Iraq to interview bad guys. Insurgents or terrorists or someone else who is very dangerous. It signals the kick-off of an obviously successful journalism career. "Hush Love, I will be fine." I kiss his forehead like his concerns were those of a child fearing imaginary monsters. "Please don't do this Lex, it's not worth it."

So I get to Iraq and team up with another woman, also a reporter. Clear sky and daylight. We stand around surrounded by a group of local women. Blending in, I wait for word from my informant so we can know where to meet. Dusk falls. Suddenly, a large group of marching men head in our direction and the women begin to scream. Someone warns that I should clear the path and find shelter. Something about our presence not being wanted after sunset. Along with the others, I begin to run.

Tripping, I fall to the ground and my purse spills open. A local boy runs over, grabbing a piece of paper that had fallen to the ground. This piece of paper contains the list of names and numbers of my secret contacts. All of which are dangerous. And none of which want to be found out. The boy, no more than 10, turns to me. "You shouldn't have this." Young eyes stare at me with a strange mixture of fright and opportunity. I reach out, offering food I had in the purse. He looks to my hand, then up at my face. Snatching the offering, he runs. Drops the paper. I consider eating the evidence of my high-crimes. I decide against it. The boy is sated.

Later, I am home and asleep in my bed with Boyfriend. Waken but groggy, I see the shadowy outline of a man walking towards me. Come to punish. He knows my list is no longer secret. No time to move. He straddles me and pushes a pillow against my face. Slowly being smothered, I fight the urge to give in and lose consciousness.

At this point, Boyfriend woke me, held me close and repeated over and over that I was ok. He later told me that I was breathing quick and heavy.


The freakiest part is not knowing: Who will I marry? Boyfriend, or an Iraqi insurgent?

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Five Tuesday Tidbits. No Wait, Make that Six.

1) Traffic was a bitch again today. Freeways and streets were closed again. Why? Oh, you know, so our asshole President could get out of town. Fine with me. I thought the Valley reeked of corruption and stupidity anyhow....

2) I dreamt last night that I worked for a super-evil defense attorney that sits across the table in one of our cases. I despise this woman and have spent hours pouring over discovery motions and responses in an effort to get her Bench-Slapped. In my dream, we are driving to court preparing to argue one of these motions. Looking ahead, she very quietly tells me "we really don't have any legal authority to stand on." I turn, face her and say in a strong voice full of stone-cold determination: "But we will win." Eeeeeww. I dream of being a slimy defense attorney.

3) My favoritest, favoritest person from law school is super-liberal Environmental Fundamentalist (EF). EF was that one student in every law school that raises her hand 5 times per class and goes off about tangential policy matters. This bugged a lot of people. I loved it, because her engagement with professors created a Socratic-Shield for the people sitting behind, in front of and on her sides. I never got called on. I think EF is about to sell-out and work for a defense firm in San Francisco. This makes me sad. But it is hard to balance idealistic notions, law school loans and an expensive, but cute, fashion habit.

4) I was followed for about 3 miles today all the way to the 8th floor of the parking garage at my work. I pulled in and heard someone trotting towards me. She had seen my license plate frame, which reads "Boalt Hall School of Law." Apparently there aren't many of us in Phoneix and when you see a fellow Boaltie, you chase them. I completely understand. She is working at an incredibly successful firm located on the floors above us. In the elevator, I mention that her firm rejected me when I interviewed during 2004 OCIP. Awkward look of surprise. She replies that the firm usually runs Boalt Applicants by her. I joked that I was high that day, and maybe that came through during the interview. Big smile. S
he responds that I should come to her office and talk sometime. I was flattered. Again, I felt the firy urge to sell out. Their associates make twice as much as I do. But I really don't want to be the Lex described in the above #2.

5) I love My Banker. I hate my bank. I overdrew my account by $70 and almost got stuck with $250 worth of fees. Turns out my bank has a super-screwy way of retroactively pinging people for purchases that appear to be covered by available funds. My Banker proceeded to explain, and I subsequently failed to understand. My Banker then proceeded to risk her ass and talk to her manager about the problem. And it worked. Oh Thank God. Banks are like the DMV - they have these strange screens with numbers and codes and you just get lost in the insanity. Fear of math is why I went to law school.

6) The Boss just came back from a meeting with the pastor of a local church whose congregation is overwhelmingly composed of members of minority groups. All of this post was already written except for this part. The Boss' has committed to working with the local churches in an effort to create a legal program for low-income minorities who experience difficulty/distrust with the legal system and yet are oftentimes the very people who are most likely to receive sub-standard medical care, police treatment, etc. The Boss is very, very excited about this. For all the right reasons. This makes my earlier toying with the idea of running upstairs in the dollar chase very easy to disregard.

Monday, November 28, 2005

What up Doc?

Are you hot?


Did you go to college and study.... cheerleading?

If so, the Drug Companies want you working for them.

Turns out even doctors can't get past the youthful fantasy of banging the prom queen. I suppose it's a better deal than free pens.

Today, I Hate Politicians.

Like, more than usual.

Georgie-Porgie is coming to town today. He is here to raise money for the re-election of Jon Kyl (us haters in Arizona lovingly refer to him as "Jonky"). Rhyme-pun absolutely intended. He is a total ass and was at the forefront of support back when America was getting sold a line of Iraq-crap. Anyhow, W's appearance has closed down main arteries of our streetways, creating ucky traffic. This is on top of the ucky-traffic allready existing due to the day-after drive frenzy. It took me 2 hours to get the 25 miles to work today. And getting out of traffic was one of the only huge pros of not working in San Francisco. I blame Jonky and W for all of this.

Even the Supreme Court is falling apart. Literally.
Maybe the next block will clock Scalia.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Getting Bitched by Corporate Counsel

Just as I predicted.

Yesterday, I mentioned that I was attempting to shmooze General Counsel at Big Corporation on the advice of The Boss. General Counsel requested that all communications be memorialized. We prefer to avoid written trails. And so a telephone call was made:

Lex: "Hello Ms. Corporate Counsel. This is Lex Fori, I work at Plaintiff's Firm. I was hoping to talk with you about the email you sent yesterday regarding our office contacting Corporation's employees. We were hoping to get a better idea of Corporation's concerns so we can figure out how we might best accomodate them."

General Counsel: Robotically. "Well, I asked for an email detailing your proposed questions. That would be the best way. Once I receive that, I will review your request in light of Corporation's policies and procedures, and respond accordingly."

Lex: Substance disregarded. "Okay. So what type of concerns are we looking at here?"

General Counsel: Annoyed. "There are privacy issues."

Lex: Best empathy voice. "Ah... I see. If it would help, I could fax a release from Client's widow. We submitted one to Corporation a few months ago when we secured Client's employment files, but I am happy to forward another."

General Counsel: "That won't be necessary. As I said, write a list of specific questions. Detail the conversation we are having. Email it to me. I will review those questions and determine what steps to take."

Lex: Cheese and rice mechanical woman, an automated system could do your job. "I see. And let me just say, one of our concerns is that we would like the opportunity to just talk with people. Have a conversation. Get a sense for who Client is, how he interacted at work, how he was doing in the company, things like that. I worry that if I send a list of questions, it will be difficult to relay any follow-up I will inevitably have based on the responses."

General Counsel: Impatient. "Um-Hum. As I said, your requests need to be reviewed to make sure we comply with Corporation's policies and procedures. There are other concerns aside from your Client's privacy."

Lex: Really lady? Like what? You have got the bible of P&Ps right there, set as wallpaper on your desktop. Flip through and give me one meaningful example you drone. Let's try this again. "Right. Just so you know, this case relates medical care provided to Client before his death. There are no allegations of liability attributed to Corporation." Take that. I was conveying to her that I recognized she was attempting to gate-keep the employees of Corporation, but because the circumstances of the case did not implicate corporate liability, there was no really no law prohibiting our office from just contacting these people directly.

General Counsel: Reaching further heights of impatience and no longer able to supress her now obvious frustration with me. "Again, there are many considerations. I also need to determine who was working with your client, so I can know where to direct your inquiries. For example, it might be hard to talk with people who have held Client's job for any length of time because that position has been filled by a few different people since your Client passed. The fact is Ms. Fori, your firm is emailing Corporation's employees at their work emails and calling them on their work numbers. Given that, we would appreciate the opportunity to provide input. We have to comply with our policies and procedures."

Lex: I want to hit you as per my policy of proceeding to thump annoying people. But I was perked up by the information slip-up. It is fantastic to know that Corporation hasn't found anyone as capable as Client to fill his position. Buffs up the argument that he was an exceptionally talented asset to Corporation. Multiply the damages baby, this guy was going places. "I understand your position. I will discuss our conversation with The Boss, and take it from there. I will let you know our thoughts before we contact any of Corporation's employees through work-channels. But I am operating on the assumption that Corporation's request does not extend to conversations we might have with your employees if they are contacted outside of their work."

General Counsel: Didn't like this one bit. But knew damn well that asking us to forego outside-of-employment contact of Corporation's employees would be out of line. "Well. Under those circumstances, Corporation's employees would need to decide for themselves whether statements they make comply with our policies and procedures."

Lex: Flah flah flah. Well then, I have some home-number calls to make. "Fair enough. We will be in contact. I really appreciate the time you have taken to discuss the matter with me."

General Counse: Terse. "You are very welcome." Sarcastic. "And you have a great day."

Lex: Joining the the who-can-be-tersest competition. "I certainly will. Thanks so much, and enjoy your holiday."

General Counsel: "I certainly will."

Lex: "I certainly hope so."

General Counsel: "Don't you worry. And thank you."

Lex: "Oh no, thank you. And you have a great day."

General Counsel: "I certainly will."

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Why Are Kid's Meals Just for Kids?

Went to a sub-shop for lunch, and on the way out offered to pick something up for Front Secretary. She requested a Kid's Meal. I get to said sandwich shop and see no Kid's Meal on the menu.
Lex: "Do you make Kid's Meals?

Sandwich Artist: Looks around, quietly verifying that I am not with a kid. "Oh. Are you taking something for a child?"

Lex: Imaginarily asking what sort of dumb-ass difference that would make. In my imaginary loud voice. I play along. "Well, someone's daughter is at the office, and she asked for a Kid's Meal."

I am reasonably certain that Front Secretary is, in fact, someone's daughter. She is at the office. And she did request a Kid's Meal. I wasn't exactly lying here... but, perhaps it's so close to lying that we should just call it lying?

Gladhanding Corporate Counsel - Good Luck with That.

The Boss has me calling General Counsel of a non-party corporation. Yesterday, I email an employee, wanting to talk about a case. Employee forwards that to corporate counsel. No conceivable corporate-client umbrella issues exist. General Counsel emails me requesting all inquiries be put in writing. I forward that to The Boss, wondering what caution-laden road to take seeing as these emails are all technically discoverable. The Boss recommends that I call, get friendly and see if I can get undocumented information that way.

And so I set out to squirrel my way to The Inside. I'm skeptical. I have been here since August and already have learned just how understandably inflexible lawyers can be with information requests. Cheese and rice, I am not certified just yet - but even so, I try to be the best dick I can be. Why should I expect anything less from General Counsel at Standard American Corp.?

Thanks out to Luke for Site Meter info. And delayed gratitude for Arbusto, who gave me the same information months ago back when I was ignoring it. I checked today for the first time and found that I came up on two searches:

1) "illegal websites"
2) "Steven Allison"

For both, see yesterday's post.

Off to get on the horn.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Creative Spam

I just received an email from Department@fbi.gov which read:

Dear Sir/Madam,

We have logged your IP-address on more than 30 illegal Websites. Important:Please answer our questions! The list of questions are attached.

Yours faithfully,

Steven Allison

*** Federal Bureau of Investigation -FBI-
*** 935 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW, Room 3220
*** Washington, DC 20535
*** phone: (202) 324-3000 "

Gotta hand it to them, this is way better than emails entitled "Lex, urgent order" of "To Ms. Fori on the Behalf of Some Billionaire."

Still though, see your way to my junk mail, stupid assholes.

Friday, November 18, 2005

Amputees with Gravity Complexes.

I love Boyfriend for a million reasons. (See e.g., Infra, 2 paragraphs down). Mostly, this is because of his intensity, intelligence and romantic notions - all of which make me want to be a better person, just to come closer to deserving a love like this.

And then there is the comedy factor.

The Setting: Standing together at our bathroom's double-sinks, preparing to brush our teeth.

Boyfriend: "Ah, this is gross." Rushes to the closet and grabs a washcloth. "I shaved today." Gets it wet and overzealously begins wiping up the minimal amount of funk in his sink.

Lex: "You could share mine, if you like. Germ-o-phobe."

Boyfriend: "That's okay, thanks though love." Still wiping his sink. "And I'm no germaphobe." Smiling. "I'm the guy who eats food off of the floor. You're the germaphobe."

Lex: Thinking that I do pretty much refuse to eat anything that has touched any surface other than my plate. And he does eat things off of the floor at times, even when in clear violation of the Five Second Rule. I assemble my defense and wonder whether it will fly. "I'm not a germaphobe. I believe in gravity."

Boyfriend: Silently staring with an 'explain that' look.

Lex: Thinking his are the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen and man-o-man am I impatient to finish recovering and be able to have sex again. I address his silent question. "Dirt gets in the air and gravity brings it down. Dirt on floor. Ucky. I'm not a germaphobe, I just believe in gravity."

Boyfriend: Smiling bigger. "Now there is some logic you don't expect to hear"

Lex: Vainly taking his words as a flattering compliment. Pride wants to make sure. "But it makes sense... right?"

Boyfriend: "Sure." Brushing his teeth now. "To a germaphobe." I see him smirking at me through the mirror. "Or a gravophiliac.

This struck me as ridiculously funny and I laughed and laughed. I thought that his term was awful close to necrophiliac, but went on to think this observation was nowhere near as entertaining as his making it up in the first place. I determined to keep quiet and let the moment finish on a high point.

Later, we were cuddling up for sleep. We reached that inevitable point where, in an effort to get as close as physically possible, someone's arm experiences discomfort:

Lex: "How is your arm?"

Boyfriend: "Ehh. How's yours?"

Lex: "Ehh." I maneuver my arm out from under my body and place it under his. "Amputees sure do have it easy."

Boyfriend: Laughing. "That's some off-the-wall shit."

Lex: "Whatever, gravophiliac."

Boyfriend: "You know, that sounds an awful lot like necrophiliac, don't you think?"

I love Boyfriend so bad.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Back At Work - Daydreaming of Big Ole' Jet Airliners.

First day back at work. I went to Surgeon for a follow-up this morning. She said all looks well. I had endometriosis - something about cells being where they shouldn't. The problem may recur throughout my life, but that just means surgery every few years... which may be the closest thing to a vacation I'm going to get in the legal field for at least 20 years (see below). If it takes disability to get the good assignments and time off... Lex says bring it.

The Boss is out of the office for the rest of the week. He was invited to fly off on a politician's private jet. I asked Office Manager how long The Boss was working before this kinda stuff started happening. Twenty years. Nineteen and 3/4 years left for Ms. Fori before jet invitations come rolling in. Fair enough.

The on pain medication memo went over well. The Boss sent me a 4 word email after receiving it. "Lex: good job. Thanks." Apparently, he also ran the problem by an 'of counsel' attorney we work with. She came up with the same information that I did, which made me feel a million times better. Save for the part where it took her twenty minutes compared to my 5 hours. I spent the first half-hour scouring WestLaw with nothing coming up and feared I would have to send him a "no answer" memo. Those memos are the absolute worst. Almost as bad as "sorry, your legal theory is against all authority and considered retarded by most circuits" memo. I had to write one of those in a past job and got a super-terse "See Me" email followed by a super-uncomfortable "If I convince my law clerk I am right, maybe the law will magically change" conversation.

As to CECU's questions regarding the legalities involved in The Boss handing off assignments while at home, I have no idea what the law actually is here. But I am more than happy to offer groundless conjecture. First, even if I had a relapse, I think that my prior history would make it very difficult to prove that the home assignment caused any increased severity of my illness. I think this would be one of those "who can give me money since I am too sick to make it myself" fishing expeditions, and any jury or Worker's Comp Administrative Law Judge would see that stat. Also, he put it in very "if you think you can" type terms. I am certain that had I told him I was physically incapable of working and it was directly against doctor's orders, he would have backed off and not ever mentioned it again. Certainly he would keep it in mind when my review and renegotiation came up, but it would never receive voice. Honestly, I am so grateful that he didn't fire me for all of this (I'm pretty sure I haven't been employed long enough for protective statutes to protect my ailing ass), that I was more than happy to do some relatively straightforward work from home.

Thank you so much to everyone who offered supportive comments and telephone calls. It's not flowers you cheap bastards, but it sure helps


Tuesday, November 15, 2005


The Boss called. Well, actually, Office Manager called while I was on the phone with Surgeon, informing that The Boss wanted to talk with me.

I eagerly called back - was this a "when the hell you coming back" call? A "just want to wish you well" call? A "computer tech found some blogger cookies on your computer and what the hell is Exact Approximations?" call? The possibilities swam in my head. I dialed the office. I was put on hold.

The Boss picks up and asks how I am feeling. I relay that I am well and feeling much better. He says good. Then he gives me a research project. Tells me to work on it this afternoon. Wishes me well and wants results by morning.

Boyfriend wonders how such requests can be made while I am recovering.

I am flattered and feel needed.

Off to WestLaw.

Monday, November 14, 2005


Surgery went reasonably well. Surgeon put me under, cut me open, found icky stuff, and burned it off. Reproductive capacity got the green light. I'm back to not wanting more kids.

Now I'm "recovering." Lots of pain medication. Paralegal sent an email from work letting me know there is a Golden Girls marathon on tv. I sorted through my coupons. I'm eating lots of soup. I'm sleeping in and taking three naps a day. I've never been so fucking bored in my entire life.

In other news, why has no one ever told me that Smallville is about Superman pre-metropolis?

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Tweekin' & Teachin'

A SoCal kindergarten teacher was removed from her work recently because she was suspected of abusing methamphetamines while teaching her kindergarten class.

Does this remind anyone else of the finger-painting loadie kindergarten teacher in half-baked?

When I worked at a non-profit during my 1L summer, one of the attorneys - whose job was to keep poor people from getting evicted, admitted to a pretty severe drug problem. He was allowed to work there still, all the way up until he agreed to enter treatment. No disrespect for the importance of kindergarten or anything - but I worry way more about what effect that guy's dependency issues had on people's lives than this lady.

Maybe my life has left me desensitized to drug abuse.

Keeping It Real

My mother called last night; a relatively rare event. It's not that my mother doesn't love me - she just has her own issues that pre-occupy her somewhat. Or a lot. Whatever.

Anyhow, she called because the Grand Republican Matriarch (aka My Grandmother), had called her the night prior, asking about tomorrow's surgery. I asked how the hell GRM found out and mom said that GRM reads this blog regularly! I had no idea and became slightly flushed remembering the brazen information GRM's loyal readership has exposed her to. Oral sex and masturbation and constant, relentless hatred for Bush... Who knew?

The larger point is GRM feels I am emotionally lacking over here. Not exactly how she put it - but that's the nutshell. GRM is certain I express irreverence on subjects she knows affect me more deeply than my sarcasm suggests. Although Republican, she has a point. This blog has always been the place to joke about things that actually really get to me, like work stuff, health matters, and unlucky blackjack hands.

So, here is one post, for GRM, where I will keep this shit real. It's a good day for this, because I am in pain, anxious like a worry-wart in xanax withdrawals and a little freaked out about tomorrow.

Here's why:

1) Suppose this procedure yields evidence of reproductive deformity and consequent inability, which I acknowledge and have been informed is a possibility. I thought I was finished breeding until learning that I might have this option taken from me soon. I'm sad. I don't feel like a very good woman. I know that is ridiculous. But if you can't breed, what's the point of having to deal with the physical bullshit women endure just so they can keep population numbers up? I have Daughter, and she makes it clear that I am good at making smooth offspring. People see my stellar contribution to evolutionary superiority and it makes them want to breed. Will Boyfriend still want eternity with me if I can't reproduce? He says of course, that's ridiculous, we'll adopt - it's my health that matters. I believe him, but wonder if that's easier to say when you're a twenty-something? Same with my up-until-now thoughts on having another child. Here I am in this great relationship with a man I daydream about when he's not around, and for the first time find myself wondering whether it might be nice if we had another child - and that this time we could be together the whole time and we wouldn't have to worry about custody or trading or child support or anything but doing it together from day one. Part of me wants to know what that feels like. One of the first times I went to see a OB-GYN about all this I ended up in the wrong office. An office full of pregnant girls and girls with little babies. I was devastated. It's like being kicked out of a club. Or at least up for review and not feeling confident about the process. I want to comment about how being barren would, on the other hand, bode well career-wise. But really, that's not a positive enough trade off to make mention of in an otherwise serious post.

2) Suppose the biopsy comes back with something really bad. Like, cancerous bad? I can't even think of how I would handle such things. So I don't. I look at the numbers and recognize that the probability of this being something that severe are low, particularly given my age. So I tell myself that thinking about cancer is like some idiot who buys lottery tickets every week - an exercise in futile self-abuse that results when people are really bad at understanding math. Fingers crossed, please, please, please.... no cancer.

3) Suppose someone fucks up really bad and I don't even wake up? I've never had surgery before, never been put under. And that freaks me out. That's a lot of control and faith that needs to be put in other people to let your body be cut open while you're incapable of giving any direction. It's a relinquishment of control and I don't like relinquishing control. When you think like this, you start to think of all the things you feel are incomplete, or still to come in your life. I am 26, Daughter is 9. I have an endless list of those things. I just started my career, reunited with my soulmate and am realizing that Daughter will be a grown up before I know it. My list is too long for these thoughts. My holographic will is stored in my closet in an envelope. Just in case. End line of thiking.

4) One of the firm's clients died yesterday. He had end-stage cancer that was not diagnosed until years and years too late. His doctors dropped the ball and now he is dead. His wife called the office to tell us. She is my age and a widow now. This put my issues into serious perspective. Before he passed, he thanked his wife for taking care of him throughout his illness, for loving him and for all she will do in the future to raise their daughters without him. He told her that he loved her. Then he died. I went home and kissed Boyfriend and found myself staring at Daughter with gratitude. Then I found myself in fear. See #2 above.

So there it is. Not as fun, huh?

I'll almost certainly be back to sarcasm in a few days, when I'm all loopy from the post-op meds. Good times.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Loving My New Employment Anxiety

I spent my entire Sunday reviewing disclosure statements of Defendant Bad Doctor, looking for inconsistencies, slip-ups - anything making for the appearance of shady-lawyering. As if that needs proof. Stuff was found and a mean letter was written. The Boss has this great way of nicely telling opposing counsel they are complete idiots, incapable of following simple rules of procedure and likely subject to sanctions. Then he signs the letter "Very Truly Yours." Highly effective comedy.

My assignments are piling up and the chances of finishing before my Thursday surgery become slimmer with each passing hour. I need to call my doctor and ask some pre-op questions. Here is what I have so far:
  • "Can I have 8 different color highlighters, 4 fountain pens, 12 depositions and a laptop in the recovery room?"
  • "If I am still coughing up this ucky green phlegm, can we harvest some of the thickest, grossest stuff - and send it to my ex Mother-In-Law? You know, for fun? There will be NO rescheduling. I don't care how high my white blood count gets. I've got someone else's tight schedule to live by here."
  • Is there any way you can wake me early, pump me full of amphetamine-based meds and get me working again by 6:00p the day of surgery?
  • Would you call The Boss afterwards and tell him I was the most successful patient you've ever had, and you expect I should never get sick again throughout not only my lifetime but also that of my spawn?"

That's it so far. Am I missing anything important?

Friday, November 04, 2005

This Astigmatism is Acting Up Too....

I'm scheduled for surgery next Thursday and The Boss is completely supportive and awesome about it. He reminded me that women have spare ovaries, reassured he wouldn't be canning me and promised to win my family a zillion dollars if Surgeon screws up.

Then he handed up a ton of great assignments! Interviewing witnesses, drafting an upcoming disclosure statement, researching medical literature (not as cool, but still neat) and making me point-person for a "small" personal injury case. The "small" part is imperative, as it demonstrates a manifestation of the ever-strong and present Good Ole Boys Club. Something about being neighbors or friends or flah flah flah.

I feel cautiously optimistic about the work situation. The whole surgery thing remains a cheese and rice situation.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Inappropriate Mental Associations

I have noticed that I sometimes have interactions with people who remind me of different people from my past. The weird part is that I find myself attributing my thoughts about the person I am reminded of to the new person who only physically resembles the person from the past. Two examples:

1) My doctor looks exactly like this girl named Amira from law school. Amira is super-duper hot. Man-o-man, is that girl a hottie. A nice hottie at that. She tranferred out of Harvard after one year for Berkeley because she felt her fellow students demonstrated an all too-awkward mixture of arrogance and insecurity. Many classes went by just a little quicker due to my readiness to fantasize about this girl. Now, she is suddenly my OB-GYN and it's like a fantasy come true, but in a sick, sick, twisted way. So now when my doctor is examining me, I associate her with Amira, and correspondingly I have had thoughts about my doctor that are entirely wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. However, Doctor did tell me yesterday that I need to have surgery next week, so that may pull Doctor out of this crazy inter-related-memory web and place her in her own category: People Who Bring Bad News. Very different from People Who Bring Great Daydreams.

2) Depositions yesterday. One of the clients is a younger man, dark hair, handsome. Really good guy. He is about 5 years younger than me and looks exactly like this 21 year old I had a torrid, meaningless sex affair with between my separation from Ex and my new relationship with Boyfriend. What can I say? I had an urge to find some young (but legal) young man and show him what it can be like. Break him in and give him something to brag about to his friends and remember fondly when he is old and not ever getting seduced by older women. So anyhow, Deposition Kid looks just like him, and I'm sitting there taking notes, remembering sex with the other guy, but associating it with Deposition Kid. I don't know where that falls in terms of professional responsibility. But in my mind, it's just so wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Post-Accolade Diet - vomiting from the praise.

Too little, too late?

The Boss read the memo I left that had the "lets talk" note. He came to my office to discuss... the memo, not the note. The memo was a review of medical literature, searching for the recommended treatment of a life-threatening medical condition during a particular point in time (the time when one of our clients received care from Defendant Bad Doctor.)

The Boss said the memo was fantastic, noting "you really get into this stuff, huh?" He wasn't talking about me specifically, but I was falling over myself just to know that he read the damned thing. It gets better.

The Boss: "It would have been nice if our experts had this, but I don't want to send the memo and make work-product discoverable."

Lex: "I have copies of all the literature I cited, but they have extensive notes I made during research. I could easily get clean copies."

The Boss: "Why don't you do that, and send them to the medical experts. I want them to see this stuff. By the way - it's a go on all of the depositions tomorrow.

Excitement has come over me in a form that can only be understood when held in comparison to the work-life despondency I have felt as of late. Finally, I have 1+ reasons to be stoked about my employment. The Boss liked my research. The Boss wants Medical Experts to see my research. The Boss ok'd my deposition attendance, a battle of silence I ultimately won, but that could have made me postal.

I am taking the remainder of this day to relish a seeming victory. Recognition that things still suck on the whole, that I am broker than an aging crack-whore or that my skill set can be explained in deep detail on a 1-page resume.... all facts I plan to take notice of later.

After all, tomorrow is another day.
A day full of depositions.

Cocaine, Mormons and the Question of the Day


Still no official talk with The Boss. He has given me more assignments and I nagged until I got permission to sit in on depositions... but still no "Hey, I saw your note, wanna talk?" I don't know if this is a blatant demonstration of just how little I matter (or how little attention my work-product receives) or if this has something to do with the numerous, three-foot-tall piles of paperwork on The Boss' desk that hide the bottom of his face Home-Improvement style.

Either way - I remain frustrated. Just now, I typed sentence after sentence and then deleted sentence after sentence. I suppose I will wait until I have a clearer line of thought on this. Until then, here are some...

Tuesday Morning Tidbits:

  • Arizona doesn't recognize Daylight Savings time. We are so ahead of the game on this one. This fact makes me proud and I have been bragging about this since before I even moved to the state.
  • Joseph-Landers are HUGE on Halloween. Daughter came home with 238 pieces of candy. And none of this cheap, Smartie-laden, non-english-label crap that tastes the way farms smell. Oh no, this is 238 pieces of fun-sized, brand named goodness. And the Joseh-Landers really got into their costuming activities! There were evil demons, goblins, witches and a Jason-masked teenager who I still believe really was looking to kill someone. And this is just a sampling of the Godforsaken creatures I had expected The Mormons to be slightly less excited about.
  • A co-worker just said to me, word for word: "You could do ten grams of cocaine if you tried." This is way funnier in its current out-of-context format. And so it shall remain.
  • The wedding date is not set yet. I am shooting for late next year though. Way I see it, love is a commitment and I already have that. I'm so in love. All the rest is just pretty dresses and default legal presumptions.

And finally, the Question of the Day: Is CECU still considering law school?