Holy Trial, Batman.

I've been in a huge trial last week and this week which has resulted in me getting about -4 hours sleep for the past two weeks. In fact, the only reason I’m able to blog right now is because I woke up a little early and can't go back sleep. It’s one nasty divorce – multiple boxes of files, and lots and lots of discovery. These people hate each other. And I’ve worked my ass off, which, thanks to a steady diet of Chinese, Japanese, and other food ending in -ese, is not a figurative statement. This means my tailor will be financially ass raping me again in the near future.

The past two weeks have been full of surprises.

I scheduled mediations during a trial week....because apparently I a masochist and love to suffer. We never expected this case to go to trial. In all honesty, I thought it would settle in the eleventh hour, but this has turned into one nasty divorce. And on top of everything, lately I’ve been a one woman show again because my assistant took two weeks off and never came back. She’s fantastic...when she’s here. It’s going to be difficult to replace her. Until then, hello eighty hour weeks, how I’ve missed you.

I was pleasantly surprised last week when one of my mediations turned out to have my buddy The Lawyer as counsel. The Lawyer and I went out a few times years ago before I decided to not date lawyers. There was no spark, but I was pretty fresh out of my broken engagement, he was pretty fresh out of law school and we were both looking for a change. The Lawyer and I usually run into each other a few times a year and will end up having lunch or having a few drinks together. Last Wednesday, he brought me lunch (the best chinese food on the planet!), we chatted about life in general and I walked away with some healthy perspective. There have been a few things in life that have been a little off lately and it was nice to talk it out with an old friend. It made me realize that there are going to be some big changes in the near future. The Lawyer always seems to come around when I need a good dose of perspective.

I have a case right now that I initially struggled with (thank you ethics versus morals). There have been very few cases that I have had that have made me choose between the two, but when they come along, they are indeed difficult. Some good advice helped me come to grips with the fact that I’m doing my job.

I got some excellent and very exciting news, but I’m going to be a tease and not say what it is. Only that it directly relates to a conversation I had with my four year old niece and I will be blogging about it in the near future.

In the meantime, I need to get a shower and get to work.

Another memory that made me laugh.

I’ve been thinking of my Dad a lot lately. I talked with my mom about this and the following story came up. You see, my daddy bought me my first car. Call me spoiled if you want, but really it was a "Sorry I’m gonna die on you kid" gift. I would have rather had my dad.

The year after he died, I had to renew my tag for the first time. I had renewed it by mail, but the sticker for the tag never came. So I had to make a visit to the Tax Collector’s office. I remember walking into the Tax Collector’s office, taking my number and waiting to be called. After waiting for eons, my number was finally called. I approached the window and the following conversation ensued.

Tax Officer: How can I help you.
The Charming Hedonist: I need to renew my tag.
TO: I’ll just need your driver’s license.
CH: (Handing over my license) The tag is actually registered in my father’s name because I was seventeen when the vehicle was purchased.
TO: Okay, so you’re renewing the tag for your father. What’s his name?
CH: Daddy-O Hedonist.
TO: (Slowly looking up) Um, Miss Hedonist, I don’t know how to say this, but, the DMV record for Daddy-O Hedonist says...well, it says...I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but it says that he’s, um, deceased.
CH: Oh yeah, he died last year. But his name is still on the vehicle.
TO: So, you’re renewing the tag for your deceased father?

CH: No, it’s my vehicle, it’s just his name on the vehicle. I couldn’t legally make the purchase because I wasn’t eighteen at the time. I was only seventeen. So he bought it for me.
TO: So it’s your dead father bought you a vehicle?
CH: Yes, before he died. About nine months before he died.
TO: But it’s his vehicle?
CH: Technically.
TO: So you’re renewing the tag for the vehicle that your dead father drives?
CH: (Palm slapping to forehead, shaking head) Exactly.

Bless her heart, she was just as sweet as sliced peaches but my God was she stupid.

Okay Moron, leave me alone.

I haven’t responded to his texts. Or his calls. Or his e-mails. Or his myspace comments. Most people would take this as a sign that I’m not interested.

Not the Terrible Trainer.

No, TT decided he would be a persistent twit and call me at work.

TT: I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. Where have you been?
CH: Um, I’ve been busy. The Boss just got back from vacation and I'm following a trial that affects one of my cases, so I’ve been swamped.
TT: Oh. So, are you still working out? Did you want to hit the gym tonight?
CH: TT, I’ve been working with someone else.
TT: What? Why? We were doing so well together. I mean, you’ve done really well since I’ve started working with you.
CH: Yeah, but then there was that whole thing about you asking me to dinner and a movie and telling me I didn’t have to tell The IAM. That wasn’t cool.
TT: That’s why you’re working with someone else?
CH: Um, yeah. I don’t play that way and you do, so I think it would be best if I worked with another person.
TT: Okay. But we can still hangout, right?
CH: Yeah......no.

I’ve never been a damsel in distress kind of girl, but I’m seriously thinking of asking The IAM to handle this one.

Today is my dad's birthday. He would have been 64. I'm sad.

Is there something wrong with me?

I've said before that I'm not a big fan of children.

On the bookshelf behind my desk, I have pictures of my family, including my two nieces. A coworker of mine and I got into a conversation about kids and she was shocked to learn that I have no desire to have children.

She looked at me like I had a third head and said "You're young, you'll change your mind." I've heard this comment before, and yet it still pisses me off. I mean it's bad enough that I have my mother on my back about this. Oh, Charming Hedonist, you'll change your mind. I need more grandchildren! Of course, you can't give me grandchildren until you get mare-ried. Yeah mom, thanks for the healthy dose of guilt. What would I do without it? Does she get that the only grandchildren she's getting from me are of the four-legged variety?

I don't want kids. This does not make me less of a woman. This does not somehow make me strange. And this does not mean that I am somehow devoid of human emotion. This simply means that I don't want children.

I can remember when I was a kid and I would play Barbies with my sister. My sister's Barbie was always a stay at home mom with the kids and the Ken and all that jazz. My Barbie always had the fun and interesting career.

My sisters had dolls. I was given dolls a few times, but I was never that kid who put the baby in the stroller and walked it around. Usually, they ended up in a corner in the basement somewhere. It just wasn't my thing.

I've never had the desire to have children. I think I'm missing that "mothering" gene. Quite frankly, children scare me. There's so much that can go wrong and so much you have to watch out for. They're just so demanding and needy. I don't really do demanding and needy.

Don't get me wrong, children are fine. When they're someone elses. I mean, hell, then I can give them back. If I had children, I'd drink all of the time. I couldn't handle it.

There's just something about the thought of me having children that makes me want to vomit.

A sad day in Bulldog Nation.

He stood proud for two SEC Football Championships.

He graced the sidelines for two Sugar Bowl Victories.

He enjoyed 87 football wins and endured 27 football losses.

He celebrated 19 national championships.

He had more victories over any other SEC ranked opponent than any other Uga.

He was Uga V’s Whatchagot Loran, but you may know him as Uga VI.

Uga VI died Friday, June 27, 2008 in Savannah, Georgia of heart failure. He was just shy of ten years old.

He was coronated as the University of Georgia mascot on September 11, 1999 when he was just one year old. He attended every football game for nine seasons with one exception. In the 2000 season, Georgia went to the Ohau Bowl in Hawaii. Even Uga couldn't get around the mandatory two week quarantine period. Uga is credited for the winning season because God knows Quincey Carter couldn't have pulled that out of his ass.

There's a line in one of my favorite movies, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, where Kevin Spacey (as Jim Williams) says to John Cusack (as John Kelso) "Neither one of us will ever be as famous as that dog."

Here's to Uga VI, a damn good dawg.

The Supreme Court Rocks!

The Supreme Court issued a decision yesterday that will set a precedent in the world of law. It interpreted the second amendment.

For those of you who aren’t law geeks like me, the second amendment reads:

"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed."

And this is the case that forced the interpretation of the amendement: DC v. Heller

Big day in law. Big day. The ban on handguns in the District of Columbia was deemed to be unconstitutional.

Now maybe we can just shoot the people who rape their eight year old daughters.

I fired you, now leave me alone.

I fired my trainer. This actually happened about a week ago, but I didn't run into a problem until now. This is what happened:

I've been working with a personal trainer since mid-to-end May. And I've been doing extremely well. I'm happy with the results and will be keeping this up. I met this trainer because he had just gone through a divorce and I happen to work in divorce. At first, everything was fine. We chatted and developed a sort a trainer-trainee friendship. Of course, he got my information (cell phone number, e-mail address) in the name of training. Then he showed up as a friend request on my myspace. I accepted -- he seemed like a nice enough guy. And then it happened.

Troublesome Trainer: What are you doing tomorrow night?

The Charming Hedonist: A friend of mine is in a band and they're playing tomorrow night, so I'm going to go have a few drinks with some friends. You're welcome to come if you'd like.

TT: I probably won't make that. But, if you're not busy on Saturday, do you want to catch a movie and maybe have dinner? We can grab a drink and, you know, whatever.

Wait a tick. Yes, that's right, he just asked me out on a date.

CH: Um, TT, I have a boyfriend, The IAM. I've told you about him. I know I have.

TT: You don't have to tell The IAM about it.

Excuse me?

CH: That's not the kind of relationship we have. I love the guy, and I'm incredibly committed to him. I don't cheat.

TT: Well, if you change your mind...

No, there will be no mind changing.

I worked out with him twice after that and both time it was incredibly uncomfortable. I know what happend -- he just came out of a divorce, a girl was nice to him and he's looking for some action. I've seen it a number of times with different clients -- they think you're great because you're easy to talk to and blah blah blah. But I'm just not that kind of girl. I've started working with another person and I'm happy with that.

Of course I told The IAM about this. The IAM is not a jealous guy, he would have no problem with me having dinner and seeing a movie with a male friend. However, just like me, he wasn't all that comfortable with the "You don't have to tell The IAM about it" statement.

The IAM's response: So, obviously he wants his fucking teeth smashed in.

This made me smile. It's nice to be loved.

And now the tricky part: He won't leave me alone. In the past three days, I've gotten 4 text messages, 1 phone call, a myspace comment and 2 e-mails. I haven't responded to any of them. I'm trying to avoid the "Okay moron, leave me alone" speech because it's a little harsh and mean. But I'm not sure I can. What's a girl to do?

Because really, who doesn't like boobs?

I'm heading to Atlanta this weekend for a breast cancer fundraiser. It's to save boobs. Because really, who doesn't like boobs?

The last time I was in Atlanta, was 2004, I was newly single and I fell off a dock while celebrating the Georgia victory of my favorite holiday. It was the one time in the past ten years I haven't celebrated in town. (But really, a friend throwing a blowout party at his lakehouse beats partying with a bunch of people who are all whispering about you because you just split with your fiancee).

So I am heading to Atlanta to raise money for boobs. Which inevitably means I will hit up a few bars with old friends. Which means Atlanta may never be the same.

Yowsa.

An Open Letter to My Fellow Bloggers:

My Fellow Bloggers:

Admittedly, lately I've been a little down. After all, a lot has been going on. That, and I always get a little sad around Father's Day. And now, I need a laugh.

This is where you come in. Yes, you.

I work in law and happen to love love LOVE lawyer jokes. Tell me your best lawyer joke.

Thanks for the laughs,

The Charming Hedonist

Father's Day

My favorite picture of my Daddy was taken in 1965 when he was 21 years old. He's sitting in a booth talking to some of his friends smoking a cigarette and has a can of beer sitting in front of him. You can tell that the picture was taken while he was engrossed in conversation. He wasn't posing for this picture; it was taken without his knowledge.

I love this picture because it's so my Daddy. Yes, I am 26 years old and yes, I still call him Daddy.

I think I was a Daddy's girl from minute one. Daddy was always the one I went to for everything -- help with schoolwork, trouble with friends, advice on boys, you name it. He introduced me to great music at a very young age. He taught me how to take care of myself and never have to rely on a man. He gave me the advice I live my life by. He taught me never to settle for less than I want. He was the one I had all of the major talks with -- the drugs talk, the booze talk, even the sex talk.

Ten years ago, he taught me about strength. He was diagnosed with a pretty uncommon and aggressive form of cancer. He was told he would have two months to live. He survived for 28 months.

Eight years ago, my Daddy died.

The times I miss him most are when I have something I want to tell him that I know he would appreciate or when I come across an old episode of Matlock. I have a twinge of sadness when I realize that The IAM will never meet my Daddy. My Daddy will not be there to walk me down the aisle when I get married. He will not be there on the days when I think I'll need him most.

It's days like Father's Day that I miss him most.

Crap in my head.

I had a car accident back in March. I thought the insurance company was going to total my car because it was wrecked pretty badly. In fact, the insurance company valued the damage at about $400 shy of what my car was actually worth. But they refused to total it out. So, I took my car back and figured I would just trade it when The Boss and I went to look for my new car. The only problem: The Boss and I haven’t gone and looked for my new car. And it’s June. I haven’t said anything about it because, well, it’s a gift and I think it’s rude to ask about a gift. And now this whole thing with his daughter having a brain tumor, I’d feel like an ass.

It’s been a trial week and I’ve been working like a mad woman. I’m sitting at my desk now typing this. Quite frankly, I needed a break and I wanted to blog. A friend of mine who’s working in Hawaii right now told me that I needed a break. It’s true, I do. But it’s not going to happen until next month. I have a trial next week and the week after that. I love my job. I love my job. I love my job? On top of everything, I’ve been doing everything because The Boss is getting everything taken care of with his daughter.

The IAM is on a business trip and is getting shoddy cell phone reception. Which sucks because I miss him and I can’t even talk to him. Last week I sat down with The Boss and ended up getting a pretty substantial raise. It made me feel great because The Boss told me that he couldn’t pay me what I’m worth, but he was willing to negotiate with benefits as well. So, in addition to a raise, I got more vacation time and other benefits. The one person I wanted to go out and celebrate with was The IAM. And I couldn’t. Now I see why Bogie moved.

My trainer is sadistic. He drags my ass out of bed at 4:00 a.m. and makes me run. And the best part is that I ask him to. Bastard. I feel your pain, Chardsy. Once again, we are in the same boat.

As of June 1st, it is officially Hurricane Season. I love hurricane season. Why, you ask? Because I heart Jim. Yes, I have a celebrity crush. And he’s a meteorologist, people, not just a weatherman. I have a client that went to college with him. My client told me that the next time Jim passes through town, he’ll see if we can all get together and have lunch. Jim is my number one. When I mentioned this to The IAM, he said "That’ll be nice. Lunch with Jim, your client and me." It made me feel great that The IAM feigned slight jealousy over Jim. It made me laugh too because The IAM isn’t really the jealous type. I mean, for crying out loud, he was completely okay with it when I had dinner with The German. That being said, if he were ever going to have a meal with his number one, I would be there to tell the strumpet to back off my guy.

I’ve mentioned my love of shoes once or twice. Back on March 1st I watched a friend’s dog. Said dog ended up destroying several pairs of shoes, including my favorite boots. I took a pair of shoes into my Shoe Guy and mentioned that I was having trouble replacing my favorite boots. To which he responded "You know, if you’d like, I could custom make you a pair of boots." Really? Reeeeaaaallly? I’m thinking about it. I would be a pretty penny. But it would be totally worth it.

My sister is moving. My sister, cheesily enough, happens to be one of my best friends. And she’s moving away. I told her husband (who I adore) last night that he better send her back every now and then. He’s a pilot so they get amazing flight benefits and all that jazz. It’s nothing for her to hop on a plane. But it does put a kink in a few traditions I have with her. My sisters and I are interesting. I’m not close with my two oldest sisters at all. But the two who are just older than me, I’m pretty close with. My sister J is one of my best friends. My sister S and I get along when her husband (The Squid) is out to sea. But the one thing, no matter what, the J, S and I do every year is shop together on the day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday shopping is our speciality. I use the term "together" loosely. Normally, we’re not in the same town when this happens. This means I charge my cell phone at least three times that day. When we are in the same town, it’s golden. Last year, J and I were in the same town. S wasn’t. But J and I called S incessantly and vice versa. On the upside, J and her Husband have invited me and The IAM to their home for Thanksgiving. Did I mention J is moving to Michigan?

Baseball season is in full swing (no pun intended) and The Braves are sucking. Football season is only a couple of months away. This means I only have twenty weeks to plan for my favorite holiday.

I think I’ve abused company time long enough. Back to work. It’s going to be a long (work filled) weekend. Yay.

Just when you thought it was safe.

After a rough beginning this year, things have started to settle down.

It's no secret that I adore my boss. I really couldn't work for a better guy. I adore the family too. He's got three daughters that are like little sisters to me. Being the youngest of six, I've never had little sisters.

And today I found out that one of them has a brain tumor. And it's something I can't fix.

Memory that made me laugh.

The Charming Hedonist: (Driving) So, I was thinking we could go to this oh you're such a jackass! Pull your head out of your ass and drive! restaurant down at the beach for lunch.

The Incredibly Amazing Man: Wow. I always thought that all of these people you were yelling at were committing these egregious errors. It turns out, you're just a really bad driver.

Yes. Yes I am.

Argh.

Trials suck.