Lindsay Does Dallas

Call me the reprimander.

2008-06-01T20:56:00.003-05:00

Gyms are strange places for studying human behavior.

In undergrad, I was always perplexed by the slews of sorority girls (ADPi girls excluded, naturally) who would come to the gym in full make up, hair carefully styled, and dressed in some tiny top with matching (in minimalism and color) spandex bottoms. They would get on the treadmills and "run" for an hour on the lowest possible setting. With all the treadmills lining the front window, it just seemed like they were there to be seen. I really think most of them took as long to get ready to go to the gym as they did to go to Chubby's 2 Phat Nite Clubs in 1, and they probably wore about the same amount of clothing.

Now that I've gotten around in the gym world a little more, this phenomena isn't so unexplained. Guys, for some reason, have the idea that girls go to the gym to meet guys. I mean, if a girl ventures into the weight area, she couldn't possibly have any reason to be there except to meet a guy, right? Clearly, all guys have free rein to hit on her as much and as often as possible: preferably 3-4x between each set. Having determined that "Can you help me move this 45 lb. weight off the squat machine?" is actually code for "Let's go back to your place and do it," I now ask the gym employees for assistance whenever I need to remove a heavy weight. (They are very annoyed by this, btw.)

But...even shameless pick up attempts and tiny pink shorts do not annoy me as much as that group of people who forget that other people belong to the gym: showing a complete disregard for common courtesy or even posted rules. I'd group these people into two categories.

The resters. At most gyms, there are not circuit areas (discussed below) but people moving about doing a few sets on a machine and moving on. Resters spend most of their time at the gym resting. They get on a machine and do four or five reps, lasting a grand total of 15 seconds, then rest for five minutes. Repeat. The result being, of course, that they monopolize a machine or weight bench for 20 minutes but were only actually working out for 45 seconds. It's really hard to call these people out on their discourtesy, because they are probably unaware of it.

Then, you have the circuit setters. These people go to a circuit area, an area designated for those people who want to train by doing one set at each machine quickly and going to the next (it adds in cardio to weight training), and treat it like their home gym. At my gym, there are signs ALL over the circuit area explaining that it is for one quick set revolving in a circuit. There are at least two signs redirecting people who want to do normal sets to the appropriate area. The circuit setters don't care. They sit on a circuit machine and casually do four or five sets, with breaks in between, watching Oprah and talking on their cells. Really. On Saturday, I saw the most egregious example: two girls were not only doing sets, but they were alternating between them. I waited on them once, but when they moved to another machine I wanted to use, I had to say something. First, I politely pointed to the sign and then explained that there was an identical machine right there in the normal part of the gym. They rolled their eyes and begrudgingly went. Since then, I have personally assumed the role of circuit reprimander. I had to do again tonight.

James also always points out "that guy" i.e. the guy who uses BOTH pulley systems...occupying 2 machines and blocking a walkway in the mean time. It is really mind boggling how people can be socially unaware.

I'm going to make a badge that says Gym Sheriff.

At least I found someone to boss around here.

Hole in Ones & Hole in the Walls

2008-05-25T22:11:00.006-05:00

Wine me, dine me, take me to sporting events, and it might make up for the securities projects.

Last week was a really fun week at work, and the exhaustion has continued to cast its shadow on my weekend. Thursday, we got to leave work early to go to Lone Star Park for the horse races. It was, hands down, in the top ten most fun things I've ever done. (The only thing that would have made it better would have been fine shamponya and finer friends.) We had a penthouse suite with an open bar, catering, and private balcony view of the track. (They even had the Pistons game on.) After winning all of NOTHING (but losing nothing too, as the firm gave us gambling money) for the first six races, I adopted the "pick the horse whose name I like" super sophisticated betting strategery and won over $120. And, as I anticipated, the sure bet of vodka and soda came through like a champion with little hang over the next day. Actually, I haven't really had much to drink at firm events because everything in Dallas is so spread out. I get lost two times a day sober, and semi-paying attention. The last thing I need is to try to navigate my way down I-75 at 2 a.m. completely inebriated. Even after the Lone Star event, I followed everyone to this great pub called Black Friars and nursed my one Paulaner for an hour so I could socialize.

I didn't want to be hung over for Friday. We worked half a day, and then drove out near TCU for the PGA Crown Plaza Invitational. The good thing about sports is that no matter how boring they are on TV, they are usually vastly improved when served (1) live and (2) with margaritas. Some of the associates didn't care about golf at all, so there ended up being one associate other than me and about four attorneys that cycled from the 12, 13, and 14th holes (then the margarita stand) for most of the day. I got a pretty good tan but, more exciting, is that I got to see Dustin Johnson hit the day's only hole-in-one up close and personal. It was the end of the day, so only a few people were left around. He gave me a high-five! I felt very included.

Afterwards, we drove to Ft. Worth to go to Joe T. Garcias. This "legendary" mexican place. When we pulled up, we saw this sign (rt) and I assumed it was one of those great, well-known hole in the wall type places like Juan's Flying Burrito or Clover Grill. I was wrong. The neon sign was very misleading, as the inside was a gorgeous villa like you'd expect to find only in the wealthiest private beaches in Baja. There were flowers, gardens, fountains: you've really got to see the website: http://www.joets.com/ It was a beautiful place, with fantastic guacamole to boot.

It feels like EVERYTHING I do here, I just wish I could bring all my friends along and do over.

Afterwards, several of us rode back in the Tahoe and a trip to the 7-11 for 32 oz roadies with a paper bag with "PB" written on it in magic marker was a must. I went to the mall for a while, but I was so sweaty and disgusting I felt like I was shaming all the shoes at Neiman's. I had to excuse myself.

Ashley flew in yesterday and we looked at wedding dresses for five hours. It was actually really fun. My stamina for wedding related activities is really surprising. It just solidifies my belief that I will be the career bridesmaid. I think I am going to make bride & bridesmaid survival kits for everyone in the upcoming events. And all the non-engaged girls are going to get a special survival tool: a mini of jack.

And two for me. I'm the one making the damn things.

Rodriguez is going to need its own phonebook.

2008-05-21T20:48:00.003-05:00

Mexicans really like to procreate. Everyday, I see at least four pregnant Mexicans. And I'm not exaggerating by saying I see fifteen when I really mean two. I see, on average, four a day. It gives new meaning to the term Sexican. They range in ages from fourteen to (yikes!) the Hispanic Joan London. The upshot of it is that I have not once forgotten to take my birth control since being here.

I had to go running after work despite the fact that I got up at 6 a.m. to go to the gym. This is because I had to meet with a trainer, who spent so much time "talking" to me that I ran out of time to actually work out. I say "talking" because, and maybe I'm being conceited, I felt like 99.5% of it was hitting on me. I must give guys credit who can walk that fine line of hitting on us girls where we can't really call them on it without seeming like assholes, but we both know what's going on. "So, yeah, you definitely shouldn't be running at the park alone. Why don't you give me your number and we can go together sometime?" Yeah? Or I could not give you my number and find a place to run with a lower mug probability.

That's what I did. I went to the previously mentioned M. Night Shyma-clearly-I-made-up-this-name's The Village. It felt much, much safer, but I was so beat from waking up at 6 a.m. that I only got through about two miles.

Today was pretty frustrating over all. I had several meetings, so I couldn't finish my memo. I got a C in my pollution class, which just made me think about the exam and get infuriated all over again. The TEXTBOOK was called A CONCEPTUAL APPROACH to Environmental Law and he taught the class using BROAD CONCEPTS then tested us on minute facts in obscure sections of the statute. Screw you, dude. I wish I could put my effluent emissions in his drinking water. Then, I just happened to leave work at the time the symphony was letting out, so it took me 25 minutes just to get out of the garage.

Ah! I am going to go to bed and hope tomorrow is better. If not, I'll drink and gamble my sorrows away at the horse rack, and on the firm's dollar at that, because they are taking us and giving out gambling money. A few of the interns are really religious. I'm hoping I can help them stay the path of righteousness by getting them to give me their betting tokens. I'm only thinking of them, naturally.

Lobster Harassment

2008-05-20T22:23:00.003-05:00

Today was the first day I got up the nerve to run the Katy Trail. Well, let me rephrase that. I always had the courage to run it. What was lacking was my confidence that I could find any one of the multiple entrances without driving around uptown for at least an hour. Luckily, one of the associates who comes into my office to eat my candy (which is much invited, I hid the bucket from my line of sight after I ate all the dark chocolate milky ways in one afternoon), was able to get me directions. All of the attorneys are so nice. It seems like every time I've mentioned needing anything, one of them sends me an email with the information I'm looking for. Running...sushi...dry cleaning...gyms, anything.

Sometimes, though, I wish they paid less attention to the things I said. At the Stephan Pyles dinner, he killed a live lobster in front of us. I was so horrified that I abstained entirely from the lobster course. I guess the attorneys I was sitting with took note of my reaction, because when one of them got a live five pound lobster in the mail today, they brought it in the office to harass me. I tried to convince them to let me get a saltwater tank for it. Then, I told them I'd drive it the four hours to Galveston, as long as I could bill the hours to my mortgage project.

Where was I going? Oh, right. The Katy Trail. So, it's this paved trail that runs along a beautiful creek that flows for about 4 miles downtown. It's a man-made creek constructed about 10 years ago, but it's nice. It looks real, so don't think of it as one of those plastic Lowe's ponds. It's got flowing water, ducks, turtles, etc. There are several places where you can run underneath the roads along the creekside, but I basically saw these as excellent places to get attacked by a vagrant. I opted to not be mugged and run on the street.

I'm going to work out in the morning tomorrow and hopefully run again tomorrow afternoon. I can't run as far in the heat, so I'm not exercising as hard. Plus, I've got to do something to compensate for all the free food and booze. I cannot eat a salad for lunch, though, as I am not a bunny.

All Summer Associates must be able to round-house kick.

2008-05-19T22:58:00.007-05:00

I started my job on Tuesday, and it's been so busy that I've had almost no time to post. They bombard us with social events - each of which in and of itself would be amazing - but, when they're stacked so that you never get home before midnight, they become chores. Last week, for example, we got tickets to the Stanley Cup playoffs. The Stars were down 3-0 in the series, but that night they won their first game at home. It was wild. I thought the crowds were going to riot and spill my Dos Equis all over me (this was naturally my central concern). The next night, there was a happy hour immediately followed by a clerk dinner. We went to Stephan Pyles (the restaurant) and then had Stephan Pyles (the chef) cook a seven course meal for us. There was an open bar and different wine with every course, but I was so worried about falling asleep at the wheel that I abstained entirely. Tonight I had to forgo great hockey seats just so that I could buy milk and do laundry. How lame am I?

The firm blew my mind from the moment I set foot on the elevator. I get stock quotes, last night's MLB scores, and the word of the day while jetting up 32 floors so quickly that my ears pop. I've got my own office with a spectacular view of downtown. I've got access to 6 secretaries assigned to me, 24 hour in-house tech assistance, and even on-call word processors who will type for me any time except from 2-5 a.m. Basically, it's like they removed everything from practicing law except the practicing law part. Now, if I could only find someone to do that for me. If you don't count the Flavia machines, the people are probably the best part. All of the partners know our names, and respond to emails within seconds. Everyone keeps offering for us to come to their offices for help or advice. I half-mentioned at lunch that I was looking for a dry cleaner, and as soon as I got back I had 2 emails in my inbox from attorneys with suggestions. Most surprising of all: The secretaries are friendly and jovial. Basically, I keep wondering (a) what sort of drug comes standard on the company HMO? Or (b) when is this going to turn into some frightening Stepford Lawyers saga?

The most hilarious thing I've learned so far is that Chuck Norris is a client. I'm afraid if I say anything else about it, I'll be uppercut for breach of confidentiality agreements.

All that being said, I've not been thrilled about my projects. Still, even that is gradually looking up. I was initially assigned two securities projects. One was a short 7 page memo, but the other was a 30 page law review article with two subsequent distillations. I hate writing more than I hate the idea of giving blood, and I skip the country every year to give myself an excuse out of doing the latter. That, and I know nothing about securities. I'm pretty sure the founding partners would be rolling in their graves to know that I spent 3 hours at work on Thursday reading about them on Wikipedia. The good news is that I spent some time reading up (in legitimate law articles, since I didn't think I could bill for using a source that also catalogues every Southpark episode) over the weekend during my 2 delayed flights. I've got a pretty solid grasp on it now. That, and the second project got cut to about 15 pages. As interesting as they try to make the sub-prime mortgage crisis sound by using "crisis," it's complicated and dry. I hope I can get some more diverse experiences this summer.

I just got back from the Whale's Vagina last night (technically this morning) after spending a fab weekend with Mary. Flight delays out of DFW are included in your fare like the beverage service. I was an hour late leaving TX, and two hours late getting back. I really believe the pilot was sitting on the runway for kicks. California was absolutely beautiful. The weather would spoil me into never leaving after two weeks (Dallas = 96 degrees at 6 pm today). The flowers were blooming, and around every bend there were mind blowing views of the Pacific Ocean pounding at the base of the bluffs. It sucked that Phil had to work all weekend, but I doubt he would have enjoyed all the wedding planning activities the way that I did. Mary and I went dress shopping at a few small (read: $yikes$) boutiques in La Jolla near the beach, and we looked through at least ten invitation books at a stationery shop in Coronado Beach. It was hard for me not to live vicariously through her. I kept accidentally picking out things I'd want for me. I just couldn't get it in my brain that she wasn't having orange invitations and tiger lilies. Back at her apartment, we gorged ourselves on wine and tacky bridezilla reality shows. You'd think we were real live girls minus the semi-sailor mouthes we've both got and the fact that we were checking for NHL updates every fifteen minutes.

I wish I were going to be around for more wedding planning. It's hard not to catch the wedding fever, but luckily I am just a carrier. I want to pass it on to people back at home so that I can partake in all the planning fun.

I wish Mary weren't so far away. Good girl friends are very hard to come by. I've been missing mine pretty bad. Missing people sucks. I've been missing James something fierce too...even in spite of all the mushrooms.

Who is this and what have you done with my Mother??

2008-05-12T17:07:00.006-05:00

I'm really worried about my Mom. I think I'm going to talk to my Dad tonight, and see if he can take her in to have blood work or some other tests done tomorrow to find out what's the matter. Today, I was talking to her on the phone and she said, "Well, if you need any money to keep you on your feet until you get paid, just let me know."
So, like I said, it's some serious mind altering disease. I'm thinking maybe West Nile Virus or Avian Flu, but we'll need tests to know for sure.

Today was uneventful with the exception of one exciting bit of news: I received Honors in my trial ad class! I really didn't expect it since I'd had two absences, but I guess they excused both the Honor Board thing and my moot court competition. There was exciting news in the moot court world this week also: I was one of four people picked for the veteran team. It will be nice to have a few extra things to add to my resume in case I decide to look for a different job.

Thus far, though, I like Dallas. The city is very pretty, and people are extremely nice. I am going to get spoiled by store clerks who ask "Can I help you?" instead of sneer and push you over with their supply carts like in New Orleans. Speaking of spoiled, Brian keeps referring to this area or that area as "the ghetto." I just think to myself, "Sir, you do not know the meaning of ghetto until you have seen a bum cup his testicles while he poops on the sidewalk."

There is one thing I'll miss about New Orleans this summer: no hills. I went running today, and my legs were burning with each and every hill. I was coming up one of them and saw an Obama sign in someone's window. Suddenly I couldn't get Michael Jackson's You are not alone out of my head. It probably also had something to do with all the middle schoolers being dropped off at the bus stops.

As I ran by the park, there was a young black middle schooler, about 12, walking towards me with two Mexican girls his age. He started calling me a cracker. I ignored him the first two or three times, but his volume increased until he was yelling it! Finally, I turned around to him and said, "Son, in 5 years, when you're on trial for dealing cocaine, I'll be the attorney making sure you end up in State Prison instead of Juvenile." It was all I could think of aside from calling him the N Word. And it did elicit the "Oh Snap" middle schooler smack stamp of approval from the two girls.

I've got to learn to keep my mouth shut. I never will.

I've still got a lot of leaving left to do.

2008-05-11T19:07:00.004-05:00

I've officially been in the Lone Star State for 24 hours.

James and I drove in yesterday night after stopping over to see his best friend in Lafayette, LA. I'd say it was about this time yesterday that we were crossing the Texas border into a riveting two hour scenic tour of rural Texas. Except for the occasional Whataburger and wrecked car in the ditch, there was nothing to see. James always keeps me entertained on long drives with his apocalypse hypotheticals and philosophical queries (although the latter are much less enjoyable for me, since he was a philosophy major). I couldn't have done the drive without him. We ate at Jack-in-the-Box, one of the final restaurants left on my eat-every-fast-food-cheeseburger to-do list.

Steven's brother, Brian, has been gracious enough to let me rent one of the rooms in his apartment here. He's a super nice guy, especially since he agreed to let me live here without ever having laid eyes on me or spoken to me on the phone. Steven must have given one stellar and misleading recommendation. I hope he's not regretting it, because I've been pretty bummed all day.

I dropped James off at the airport this morning, and the prospect of not seeing him for six weeks really has me down...Not that I don't plan on loving all of the guilt-free shoe buying, sports watching, and mushroom devouring I'm going to do while we're apart...But it will be weird to wake up without him next to me every morning. He does a lot for me. Not to be all gushy about James (blame it on the initial separation) but I've really gotten accustomed to having someone take care of me. I'm going to look like a real asshole over the next few days when I'm giving cross looks to the guys who aren't opening the door for me. He left me with the GPS (lil' geepus), which has been a life saver. It's not idiot proof though. I keep missing the turns because I'm too inept to gauge how far 300 yards is. Damn it.

Things to Program into Lil' Geepus Tomorrow:
-Nordstrom's (saw it today, must... find... L.A.M.B.)
-Super Target
-Work
-Places to Run

Brian showed me several good running trails today, including some well-lit sidewalks where I can run in the evening. They're a few miles from here, in the part of town where all of the "YP's" live I guess: The Village. Like the M. Night Shyamalan village except the beast is your quickly approaching thirties. Brian also took me to a barbeque joint called Peggy Sue's over by SMU, but I didn't have much of an appetite on account of my being sad. I think I got more of Peggy Sue's Piggy Sauce on my shirt than I actually got in my stomach.

Well, tomorrow I have a big day of watching Sportscenter in my underwear. Maybe I will put on some of James' boxer briefs he graciously left me to launder and be authentic.

Work starts Tues.

Also, my address for letters, flowers, and gifts (not stalking/serial killing):
7450 Holly Hill Dr. #114
Dallas, TX 75231