Steel Erection

I completely forgot this until right now, and it was the single funniest thing I saw all day Friday (It was a slow day.) I went to the Indians/Twins game. A partner was there and I was forced to talk to him. All that you need to know about him is, every stereotypical lawyer nerd who can't function in society joke, he fits. Anyway, the Indians scoreboard has this sign saying that 77 was closed because of a "steel erection." No joke. It was quickly changed to a welcome, and then it came back on saying 77 was closed due to "construction." I heard on the radio (yes, I listen to AM sports radio) that the scoreboard people were called. Who ever knew that scoreboard people had a sense of humor?? I mean, you hear all about those Disney cartoonists, but everyone completely disregards the scoreboard people. Those underdogs.

Ok, and I was told on Saturday that I didn't get to sit at the table during the trial, and yet, I had to go to the trial. Bite me. That's bullshit. I understand that there are two defendants, so two clients at the table. And that there are two partners on the case now. But damnit, this is my case. It's what I know. And why should I have to go if I'm just sitting in the peanut gallery? Why should I have to work 60 hours a week for that? Screw that, find some other whipping girl. And the senior partner on Saturday said that we have all these depositions coming up, and as far as he is concerned, any of us can take them, "including Stephanie." Now really it comes down to me and junior partner, b/c senior partner is sceduled up the wazoo. But the junior partner won't let me, because as he puts it, he "doesn't want to let anything go." See, THIS is why I keep thinking I'm going to leave the firm. Because fuck that.

Oh, and cocoa lecture guy is back. It had been a while, so I felt kinda good about the entire thing. Silly me. An entire message about - you guessed it, his one topic of discussion. I don't mean to be a bitch, I really don't, but yawn. Seriously, I thought the whole washing hair for the next three weeks excuse would work...little did I know. Maybe girls should write a book for guys. Here's a hint: the washing hair busy-ness excuse...NOT a real excuse. It's bullshit. If we wanted to find time for you, we'd squeeze you in somehow.

As people may know because of Erin and Jen, I went to celebrate Erin's 30th birthday this weekend. Well, for a brief period of time, because I worked until 5 and had to be back in by 12. I got to the bar and had to eat, b/c I hadn't had anything to eat all day (kinda like today...) Anyway, I'm waiting for Anne and Ernesto, my two friends from law school, to get there, and inspiration strikes! Since: (1) it happens to seldomly; (2) it's not like I can recall the brilliance later, I grab placemats and start writing an affidavit out. So I get in today, and my secretary is out (she once got lots of coasters with writing on them) so I had to give them to her backup. She just looked at me like I was crazy. "Napkins?" No, silly! Those are placemats! Duh! Writing on napkins would just be weird. My disgusting dedication to a job (*cough* lack of a life) astounds.

And I'm sad because we have pictures online at work. They are black and white. Mine is from when I had long hair, once upon a time. But we are getting pictures taken tomorrow. Color, nonetheless. No more long hair. I won't even remember a time when it tickled my back. (Much better, by the way, thanks.)