must shut mouth...Must Shut Mouth...MUST SHUT MOUTH

I really must, you know, but I can't help myself. If an apportunity make an obnoxious comment presents itself, I cannot help myself. Makes me want to scrawl across the walls,

PLEASE STOP ME BEFORE I SNARK AGAIN

I met a colleague for the first time yesterday. Let's call him ... Colleague Guy from New York Office.. Too early to think of appropriate name. I had spoken with CGNYO in the past and he has pitched in on my cases, but we'd never met. I think he felt put out the last time he pitched in, but whatever.

Anyay, CGNYO has an ethnic name that just evoked a strong image of nearly every guy I went to high school with, but if they had brains enough to go to law school and wear a suit. I pictured slick wavy hair, perfect suit, perfect teeth, perfect weight, single, lady killer. Basically, a metrosexual pretty boy. What I saw was a regular guy, around 30 years old, baby pix all over the place, not traditionally handsome by any means, in a really good suit, with lots of hair product. The second two things should have tipped me off that he would be the metrosexual pretty boy if he could, but he couldn't.

So I'm introduced and I jokingly tell him that he doesn't look like him. More pleasantries are exchanged and Then the person who introduced us walks away. He goes back to the "doesn't look like me" and instead of just saying "ha ha", or "I pictured someone with a hook and a dueling scar", I say "I pictured slick, wavy hair, overstyled, pretty boy." He teased me a bit and I tried explaining that not being a "pretty boy" is a compliment, but I think he was actually insulted by this. In retrospect, I suppose if someone I never met said, "you're no hottie", true though it may be, I'd be put out.

Before insulting my colleagues, I told Thing 2 that she could have "one free punch in the face" of Thing 1 because Thing 1 made fun of her. She immediately wound up and I had to dive in to hold her back.

Must shut mouth.

"Sister Darth Vader isn't gonna go for that at all."

That's the quote.

Here's the context: I accompanied Thing 1 to her first Confirmation class. On the way over, we chatted a bit about potential Confirmation names. I mentioned a few old family faves ("What about 'Frances'?" "NO WAY!!"), before jumping right into silly ("What about 'Funk Soul'?" "Sure!"), and ended with a classic ("Elv_s?" "YEAH!)

She was unhappy to learn that Elv_s (his name is too sacred to write out), while the King, is not on par with the King of Kings. I tried. There's a British Saint Elvan of some sort who attained sainthood by, apparently, requesting that missionaries come to Britain. I thought, maybe we could call Elv_s an Americanization of a latinization of "Elvan", but, as an close advisor pointed out, "Sister Darth Vader isn't gonna go for that at all."

Unrelated note: Thing 1 set fire to my kitchen for the second time today.

Good Fran, Bad Fran

Is there a way to keep the edge without the abyss?

This is twice in one week. Twice I forgot my happy pills in the morning, and was a much better litigator as a result.

Last week, I got to a deposition and realized I was unmedicated. Well, I couldn't exactly break out the pharmacy in front of counsel and client, so I was flying without a chute. And I was On Fire! Man, the snappy -- yet still civil and professional - retorts were popping out of me like mad. Not a single inconsistency went past me. The deponent was putty in my hands, even if, by the end, I had enough anxious energy to run a marathon.

Today, I had just been revelling over a particularly well-handled conference call with opposing counsel. Again, I was On Fire! I made all my points. I did not equivocate about anything or start any sentence with something like, "Well, of course your client is going to have a different view of the facts and circumstances -- which is expected -- but my client's view of the events from his perspective is blah blah blah blah blah, which is what one would expect him to say. But anyway, that's what our position is. . . " Everything was delivered with the right amount of oomph, innuendo and menacing. But in a good way. And then, I realize: No meds.

I had lunch with a friend right after the depo and contemplated how to harness this power for good. I wondered aloud whether I should omit my meds whenever I have a depo or important oral argument.

Would my career thrive and my family hate me? Do I really care if my client's love me, when I hate myself? Questions, questions.

Depression sucks.

It's been too long

Fun and exciting, August has been. And now, late on September 3, I find myself speaking Yoda.


I had to run a full disk recovery on my com-poo-ter three weeks ago because Things 1 and 2 developed a love of You Tube. Granted, they spend their time on Potter Puppet Pals and Powerpuff Girls DMZ, but between the slowed down system and the popups that would not go away, well I had no choice. I don't have sound anymore, but then neither do I have exciting offers to get dates or free ipods, so in all it is a win.


Thing 3's mullett. Unfortunately, I did not take any pictures of the mullet right after she cut it, so you cannot get the full effect, but here goes:


Wet Mullet

And here's the after:

Most fabulous, I'm sure.

New topic: Is it wrong that my 11-nearly-12-year-old turns heads? Mine is the one in the black top. I try to ignore it, but goodness if I'm not going to have to beat boys (and men???) off with sticks. It is hard to get the full effect with the Fairy Princess in frame, but Monica/Stephen -- help me out here. I'm thinking of lecherous 40 year olds checking out your eldest when she was barely 13. How did you resist the natural and deserved desire to punch them in the mouth and/or give them the willy-inducing knowledge that they are lusting after a baby? I may be safe as long as she's got braces on, which necessarily screams "underage", but after that I'm screwed.

Next: is it wrong to teach my kids fake French curse words? I can't see how it hurts, but it is awful funny. Thing 1 is starting French this year, which I studied in college. I tried teaching her a real French curse (excuse my spelling, it's been 15 years, but "peigne cul" - ass comb, the French equivalent of "asshole"). Her pronunciation was, well, sacre bleu horrible, so I tried some other "French curses", like "l'autobus rouge" (red bus). When she couldn't pronounce that, I tried "poisson tasse" (fish cup).

She and Thing 2 mastered poisson tasse, but I just couldn't go through with it. I envisioned parent-teacher conferences and took the zero. "Mrs. X, Thing 1 is a delightful student, quite engaged in the subject. Her vocabulary is increasing and her diction improving. But I'm concerned about her word choice. Do you have any idea where she might have gotten this?" Uh. No.

It did get quite a laugh, though. Things 1 and 2 could barely finish dinner when I told them the horrible curses I shared with them. This is good because Thing 1 is in that "special" point in her development where I never know if I'm embarrassing her horribly, insulting her unforgiveably, or just having fun. Since I figure I've got a 2/3 chance of being wrong anyway, I may as well have fun... freaking puberty.

Anyway, I expect that Thing 2 will call her classmates "fish cup" anyway, just because she can. . . I can see envision the conference with her principal. "Mrs. X. We appreciate that Thing 2 is a creative, intelligent child, but we have a zero tolerance policy against using words I don't understand. It is not tolerated at our school..."

This is, of course, the same principal who decided not to suspend Thing 2 for a second time in the Third Grade , after she punched some doofus in her class who threw sand at her, because Thing 2 threatened to "throw" the standardized test that year.

I love that girl.

More pix:

Various Slusarzs and McLoughlins at Lake Compounce

Sister Love XOXOXO

Evolution, Pirate, Wench, Sprite, Pixie and another Wench at the Renaissance Fairey

Fabooolous

Quite an August indeed.

All right. Vacation is over. These hours ain't going to bill themselves.