Humor, Law Enforcement, Secretary, Work

Out. Law.

“First thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.”
– William Shakespeare

Exhibit A, proof that I'm a nice person, damn it!

Both my father and father-in-law are lawyers, lots of my friends parents are lawyers, I grew up amidst a plethora of lawyers, dumplings.  Charming one and all!  I never understood the all-consuming hatred some people have for lawyers… until I worked for a police department.  Now in the cosmic scheme of things most lawyers come just above tabloid journalists and other assorted media vultures, followed by cockroaches.  Which, as everyone knows, are the most horrifying, revolting, filthy concoction of vileness God ever turned out wandering-

But I digress.  Lawyers.  I am fully aware that most are decent and lovely people (this means you, Dad) but somehow I never seem to come in contact with those types professionally.  For instance!  The one who called me today and explained how he was representing the victim of some property damage.

He wanted to know the process of personal conflict mediation on campus and I explained and offered to direct him to the proper department, but no, that didn’t answer his question.  Perhaps I could take him through the process of punishment for such behavior on campus?  I explained that if the incident was a criminal matter then charges and citations would be taken up (as they always have been) by the district court, but internal university matters had a separate office for working through such things, perhaps Master Lawyer would like their information?  But that didn’t help either.  Finally I asked what exactly it was that I could help him with.
“Well, the two parties came to an agreement about repairing the damage, but that the other party has now refused to make any payments.”
“I see, but I’m not sure how I can help, sir.”
“What we were thinking…that is, we thought that maybe…perhaps that you would be able to punish this person…”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow, sir.  As I said, that really would be a matter for the courts-”
“No, what I mean is, perhaps the university could put a hold on his student account to keep him from going to classes or anything.  You know, to help us exert pressure on him?”

Pictured: said raised eyebrow

Which is precisely when C. the Chipper and Helpful Office Assistant turn into Humorless, Schoolmarm-ish Small Dog of the Raised Eyebrow.
“Just so I understand, you are asking for my help in involving the university in a personal dispute between private individuals, where the police department has absolutely no need and the university no right to interfere?”
“Er-”
“Or, more plainly, you’re asking my help in getting the university to bully this other party for your client?”
“Ah.  Yes?”
“I can’t – won’t – help you with that, sir.  And nor can any other university employee I’m afraid.”  Quick transition back to Chipper and Helpful C..  “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Um, no, I don’t think so.”
“Have a nice day, sir.”

Faugh!  What correspondence school did you get your “law” “degree” from, pray?

Friends, Humor, Life, London, University, Work

Brief Dispatches

“I hope I didn’t bore you too much with my life story.”
– Elvis Presley

Some of my friends seem to have gone completely round the twist lately, and not one has been able to satisfactorily explain their strange, sad, pathological, or just flat out bizarre behavior.  I’m baffled, kittens.

Dear police officers who have had all year to complete 40 hours worth of training: no sympathy.  I’ve sent you quarterly updates of your training records and multiple emails this month alone reminding you that I’m turning everything in at the end of the week, your sob stories about how you never knew you were 39 hours short will not fly here.

Sweet merciful chocolate, J. starts grad school three months from tomorrow!

Sweet merciful chocolate on a stick, we still have so much to do…

I have stayed up late every night for a week now, in a unprecedented attempt to prove that I am not a dull, matronly, boring old married woman at 25.  The net result is that I’m near psychotic from sleep deprivation and have never used so much  concealer in my life.  I r adult now, k thnx bai.

We are smack in the middle of the busiest work week of the year preceding the busiest work day of the year, the 4th of July (which includes but is not limited to VIP performers, parades, marathons and 5ks, street festivals, massive firework displays, and the gradual wearing down of any and all patriotic feelings on the part of our department staff as we deal with screaming children, patrons livid with the parking situation, traffic accidents, any amount of petty crime, and 48 hour work days).

My birthday just keeps on going!  Celebrating it with various friends and family took up about a week and I milked every day of it (Can’t do the laundry, it’s my birthday!  Can’t save that baby from the pack of roaming wolves terrorizing that burning building that was started by the earthquake, it’s my birthday!).  Last night I got the probable last of my belated birthday present…just in time for my anniversary on Friday!

Seriously…I’m so tired right now…  Ladies from the parish are coming by this evening, I should probably clean the flat and not take a nap.  But…

Visa applications can be submitted starting tomorrow, but they probably won’t be completed seeing as I have to be at work until 9pm prepping for the dratted 4th of July.  Freaking colonists and their freaking independence…

Oh dear, do I have anything for dinner?

We’re really moving in just about 2 months.  Please hand me that paperbag and ignore any sounds of angst that may escape my muffled mouth.

We’re really moving in 2 months.  London!

Humor, Travel, Working Out

Namaste

“Wait. So yoga pants and old college t-shirts aren’t tres chic? I am in so much trouble.”
– Tori, of The Ramblings (check her out!)

Très chic?  Perhaps not.  Très nécessaire?  Bien sûr!

This was a point of discussion so let me just reassure you, my fuzzy little ducklings.  Comfort clothes, workout gear (IF you are already in the habit) and loungewear are important, but I maintain that they must bow down to C.’s Laws of Travel and serve multiple functions.  Yoga pants can be napped in, worn to run errands, thrown on of a Saturday morning to do the laundry run, and even exercised in (who knew?).

The same goes for college sweatshirts.  I’ve two, one is old, worn, pilled, and stained.  The other is none of the above – which one do you think I’m taking?  I do not ascribe to that medieval notion that all sweatshirts should be banned from polite society, there are plenty of places it’s appropriate (weekends, casual dinners at the pub with friends, on the aforementioned laundry day when you’re in desperate sartorial straights, etc.).

The underlying rule though, possums, is that in order for your loungewear to deserve space in your suitcase, it must be of good quality and in good condition.  It’s very hard for something to serve multiple functions if it’s in a sorry state.  Those ripped trackies may have been with you for years, but their day is ended.  Store them for the memories if you must (though I advise against it), but don’t pack them, items need to be kept in good repair for you to look your best.  And when you’re living abroad with limited funds and limited packing space, taking things that make you look a wreck is just silly; and you’re not silly, are you, pumpkins?

If your gear is all twenty years old, covered in soup stains, shredding at the hems, and generally looks as though it’s survived the zombie apocalypse, don’t despair!  It’s possible to get new things for relatively cheap at Old Navy, Gap, and any number of specialty stores.  Comfort, the ability to look (relatively, in my case) put together while working out, and casual clothes for the days when you really, really can’t care are worth it.

Humor, Law Enforcement, Life, University, Work

If I Could Get a Word In Edgewise –

More fun with phone calls!

Small Dog tries...

“University Police, this is C., how can I help you?”
“I’d like to speak to a customer service representative, please.”
“Ma’am-”
“Customer service.”
“Ma’am -”
“Cus-to-mer ser-vice!”
“Ma’am, I’m not a recording.  How can I help you?”
“Oh, hello.  I lost my purse today.  I was coming to campus with my seven grandchildren – Mary, John, Paul, James, Agnes, Peter, and Martha – and we went to the museum, then stopped for lunch and went to the art museum before going to get ice cream.”
“I see.  Well, ma’am, the first -”
“They all wanted strawberry, except for Agnes who hates strawberry and had to have chocolate and Peter because he’s lactose intolerant.  So when I got them all home I got everything out of my car, it’s a 2008 suburban, tan, and I just got it new tires last week, I also had to get the oil changed!”
“Alright, so what you’ll need to do -”
“And frankly I was less than impressed by how difficult it was to get around campus with seven children, I really think you should make more accommodations for large families.  But my purse is a large satchel, canvass, and it has my planner, my medications, and my wallet and I really need it back!  Could you send an officer to go look for it?”
“I can try but I strongly recommend you come in and make a police report with us, and that you also -”
“Oh, surely no one would steal my bag and my bank isn’t very helpful.  I’ve known the manager for years and you think he would be more respectful to an older woman, especially a neighbor like me.  I really think that it’s a shame how people treat ladies my age!  The person who served us our ice cream, except for Peter of course, was also not very helpful.  You’re not being very helpful either.”
“I am trying my best, ma’am.  If you could give me a little more -”
“You’re not listening to me at all.  Please transfer me to someone who could be more useful.”

With pleasure!

Fashion, Humor, Shopping, Travel

Dress Code

Look for the woman in the dress. If there is no woman, there is no dress.
– Coco Chanel

Let’s face it: you, and yes I am looking directly at you with a smirk of approval, are fabulous.  And if you were going to live abroad, “abroad,” or even just pop over to a city for a week or two, you would invariably have cause to dress up.  Maybe the ambassador would need to invite you to a lavish supper because the country had no other citizens of your nationality to ask, maybe you do something heroic and save an entire city from destruction and have to sit for a parade in your honor, anything could happen, kittens, and like the Boy Scouts you should Be Prepared.

Admittedly in this scenario you are a lot more impressive than I, the best I am hoping for is the wedding of a friend, a Christmas party, or a night out on the town, but the principle is the same.  If you’re going anywhere for several months, you are going to need a pretty frock that looks really good, travels well, and doesn’t break the bank.

Remember our cardinal rule: everything you pack must be able to pull double duty.  I love a glam sequined dress as much as the next girl but consider, gorgeous as such an item is, you probably cannot wear it to a tasteful country wedding (unless you’re Scarlett).  Choose something you could wear to both Christmas mass and a Christmas work party, a New Years Eve bash, a cocktail party, a night out, and – in my case – any graduation festivities that may arise.

As always, stick with your own tastes and don’t try on a new persona at the last minute.  Knits are easier to travel with, but might not look as polished unless you really hunt for them, so put in the time to find a good dress you really love.  If you’re really flush, I recommend both a Little Black Dress as well as another frock in color.  Don’t forget that you can pop down to Camden Market or Portobello Road (or your travel destination’s equivalent) to find a fascinator for a wedding, thrown on a necklace and earrings to glam up for an evening out, and experiment with hair, makeup, and nail colors to change your look.  With only two dresses, you may have a closet full of different different looks!

Have at least one pair of really nice dress shoes that you can wear with any formal frock, black is a good standby.  It will save suitcase room and won’t let you down.

Grad School, Humor, Travel

To the Closet!

“Women usually love what they buy, yet hate two-thirds of what is in their closets.”
~Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic’s Notebook

Some of you may still be a bit battered by our last exercise, but grudging health commitments have taught me that the only cure for soreness is the hair of the dog and so back into the fray!  This time we’re tackling your wardrobe, what are the chances we’ll find Narnia?

Moving is always an excellent excuse to go through your closet because there is generally quite a bit of stuff in it that you don’t wear, doesn’t fit, no longer reflects your style or taste, has started to wear out, or that you are ready to let go of.  There is no better excuse for an honest examination (or in the case of some, an archeological expedition) of one’s closet than the knowledge that if you are keeping something you will have to find room for it in two suitcases.  And if you aren’t taking it, that you will have to find a place to store it while you are out of the country or gird your loins and get rid of it.

Now I’m not one of those ogresses that demand you chuck everything dear to you (am I, ducklings?), I know that in every closet their lurks some treasures that it simply wouldn’t be feasible to transport but you can’t get rid of.  All I’m saying is that you should be honest about what constitutes real treasure.  A couple of contrasting examples:

Freshman year some friends of mine had t-shirts made for our group.  I’ve carefully preserved that shirt for the memories but haven’t worn it once in nearly 6 years.  When I pulled it out of my closet, I grinned a bit remembering some of the scrapes we got into, thought of friends I haven’t seen in a while, and generally reminisced about the four years I spent at university.  And then I put it in the donate pile.  Hanging onto a shirt that only takes up room in storage when I already don’t wear it doesn’t make a lot of sense.  And of course I realized that I don’t necessarily need a shirt to remember people and good times anymore.

Alternatively, in my closet also resides my wedding dress.  It too represents memories but the difference between it and a t-shirt (besides price) is not lost on me.  If  I have a daughter she may want to wear it for her own wedding, or perhaps my sister would like to borrow it for her nuptials – giving my parents a sigh of relief and Snickers more coin to drop on the party itself.  Or perhaps someday I’ll donate it to another good cause.  But until then, I’m much less willing to part with it rather than an old, never worn t-shirt.

I WISH. Mine is nothing so organized.

And in between these two extremes is most of what I own.  I have pretty dresses and skirts that I spent good money on, are in excellent shape, and that I quite like, that won’t be necessary to me overseas.  I have tops that I haven’t worn for a long time and won’t miss.  I have any number of shoes, including a few pairs from Italy and Paris that I love but won’t stand up to cobbled streets or inclimate weather.

And so, armed with a ruthless will and clear vision of what I intend to hold precious, I fling open the doors and survey everything I own and start asking the practical and philosophical questions about individual items:

  1. Does it follow the Cardinal Rule of dressing abroad?
  2. Is it in good shape?  Are hems fraying, seams ripping, or is it generally falling apart?  Is the answer is yes, donate or chuck it.
  3. If it isn’t in good shape, can you get it back into working order?  If all that’s wrong with a perfectly good jacket or cardigan is a missing button, it’s beyond foolish to chuck it for a easily repairable flaw.
  4. Have I worn this item in the last six months?  If not, you can probably get rid of it without qualm.
  5. Do I still like it?  In every closet there resides at least one lapse in sartorial judgment, and if you don’t like it now, you won’t like it later.
  6. Does it still fit properly?  There’s no reason to hang on to something that doesn’t.
  7. Will I wear it (which is an entirely different question than “Have I worn it?”  I wear lots of things here in the States during summer that might not be so practical for a Fall/Winter school year in Europe)?
  8. If I leave it behind, will I wear it when I get back or will it be too dated, out of style, or no longer practical for my situation in life?
  9. Do I have multiple items that serve the same functions?  If so, which one would be more practical to take and would give me the most and best wear?

Any clothing that doesn’t pass muster gets tossed into bin liners to be donated, offered to friends, given to Snickers, or is set aside to be stored.  What’s does is what’s coming with you.  The next step is make sure you have the necessary items to make it through a calendar year abroad, and we’ll start exploring that in future posts.

So, sound off!  What categories of things does an enterprising globe hopper need for a jaunt abroad?

Health, Humor, Working Out

Oh, Darling, NO…

“From the cradle to the coffin underwear comes first.”
– Bertolt Brecht

Talking of working out, the business of getting healthy has given me quite a bit of fodder over the years, but what I saw the running track the other day boggled me.

As I made my way around the track, sans Margot, someone or rather something caught my eye.  My eyesight, never 20/20 and at the time worsened by sweat, took a minute to adjust, and my brain took an even longer minute to process before I could coherently form the thought, “Are those…knickers?”

And lo, minions, they were.  Sort of.

The girl just ahead of me on the track was made up to a ludicrous degree, which (since she was running) looked rather bad; her mascara was starting to run and the carefully applied roses in her cheeks to, er, wilt.  Her hair was a shade of blonde not seen in nature, and her skin an equally improbable degree of orange.  She was wearing an extremely low tank top that provided no, ahem, support as she moved.  But what truly baffled me was that she was wearing a skirt to jog in.

I call it a skirt.  Truthfully it barely fit the description, ending as it did just south of the law.  Loincloth is more appropriate.  And there’s no need to accuse me of clutching my pearls and prudery, if you’d seen it you’d agree.  The trouble with this skirt/loincloth was that every time she took a step it rode up to reveal her choice of underwear, which I will only characterize by saying they must have been desperately uncomfortable to run in…if you know what I mean.

I’ve seen people at gyms spending more time gazing at themselves in a mirror or strutting around the machinery to attract attention, but all that paled in comparison.  Alright, perhaps I am pearl clutching and getting a bit Victorian Aunty in my old age, but honestly?  Knickers on display?  At the jogging track? Really?

Grad School, Humor, Travel

Getting Into the Habit

“The hard must become habit.  The habit must become easy.  The easy must become beautiful.”
~ Doug Henning

Today’s lecture is on habits, particularly those for physical health.  Habits are hard work, making as well as breaking.  And if you want to have some good ones while abroad, frankly you’ve got to get cracking on them long before you ever step foot in an airport.

I am not one of those people who naturally likes working out (those endorphins I’m promised?  Lies.  Never have they once materialized!) and so it’s something I do largely because I know I should, not because I particularly enjoy it.  But it’s a habit now and I work hard at keeping it one.  First of all, it is much easier to maintain your health, weight, workout schedule, and strength if you’ve already got it stabilized long before you move.  Secondly, living abroad can be more physically demanding: no cars, all walking, lots of carrying, etc.  It’s much better to already be in shape when you arrive than to spend a miserable few weeks huffing and puffing up and down stairs because you have to buy groceries more frequently (thanks to those tiny ice boxes).

The summer I did a study abroad there was an absurdly large number of girls who packed  work out gear, clothes, and shoes that never once saw the light of day.  I couldn’t have cared less about whether or not they went running, but as a traveler, I shook my head over the wasted space in their luggage and the silliness of their assumption that even though they weren’t in the habit of working our regularly at home, they would magically acquire it in a foreign country.  Learn from their fail.

Fashion, Humor

Ascot Comes But Once a Year

“Every duke and earl and peer is here
Everyone who should be here is here
What a smashing, positively dashing spectacle
the Ascot opening day.”
– My Fair Lady

J.’s never been (understandable) and neither have I (unacceptable).  I think we should go next year and mingle with the unhyphenated name crowds that go just for the hat watching.  What say ye, minions?

Tom and Lorenzo’s Part 1
Tom and Lorenzo’s Part 2
And of course, people behaving badly at toff events.

Frankly, Bea, we all expected something a little more vulgar from you after that wedding topper.  I, for one, am extremely disappointed.

Dull. Pretty, wouldn't mind it for myself, but dull.

Humor, Travel

Travel Wisdom: Good Company

“A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles.”
– Tim Cahill

Photo basely stolen from her blog.

Let me refer you an ever fab and ferociously funny cyber-mate of mine, geekgirl and her ongoing series of travel tips (read here for thoughts on shoes, souvenirs, luggage, and the drama of being a runner in a strange land).  She will probably offer more tips and tricks for travel so keep checking her out.