October 2006 - Posts

Thanks to my Scotts, Tess, et al, Zule, Mike Paynegiver, my inlaws and most belovedly my small duct taped Dbot, our haunted house kicked enormous and collosal ass. The only people who did not freak out were a group of 8 year old girls. I think the cast was giving it to them easy. I had one kid drop by from my church youth group, but unfortunately I thought he was the other boy from my youth group and hijinks ensued b/c I kept calling him by the other boy's name. Truly they are identical. Ironically, the boy who showed up is the boy to whom I'm trying to arrange a marriage for my daughter for three years. I'm sure the entire church believes I'm degenerate. My father in law was the hit of the evening. He was actually the scariest shit I've ever seen, except for the pig eyes that are in a glass in front of me.

At one point, early on, Zule was so freaked out by the pressure of putting the house on, he threw pizza in my purse. True story.

All I say is this. We had a real coffin and a real fire which thank god, Scott Stewart had the presence of mind to put out. Remind me not to use styrofoam heads as candle holders. It was enormously fun. Next year, join us.

Now we have stinky pig parts to dispose of. Suggestions?

And that's awesome. 
Here's the facts. I've always loved messing with people. I'm a trickster. An evil female Loki. I used to send Evil Randar ridiculous shit in the inter office mail, such as license plates, cant hold on to me balloons filled with oil, bandanas. And well, poor BAAL got the best trick of all a pre marital BABY! Xule lives everyday with my tricks as do my kids.
But, I decided, this year to make a really awesome haunted house at my house. Being a twisted whack job, I decided lets get a bunch of pig hearts. I cajoled the dude at the processing plant to give them to me, and today I went to pick them up. First off, they had to transport them from something called a kill floor to the "guard house" where I was waiting, which had me all freaked out.  My friend Matt used to work at a slaughterhouse and really, his stories are cemented in my mind. Plus my friend Mike went to this slaughterhouse a while ago and had to do some plumbing and the plumbing from the kill floor backed up and a huge geyser of pigs blood shot over him like a geyser.  That's fucked up shit. Not as fucked up as the bag of eyeballs I have right now. I looked inside and literally freaked out and I knew what they were. This is going to be awesome.  On a side bad note, my house smells like an abattoir.

I have been working on my costume and the haunted house pretty much constantly for two days. Both look pretty fucking radical.

10. congenital defect. Most people in my family are attractive, smart, creative and batshit insane.

Reasons 9-2: Kids

1. futility of trying to clean house.

Instead of posting the lyrics from an H.I.M. song, instead I will post the words of Robert Frost. B/c I'm real intellectual and stuff.  But the woods ARE lovely dark and deep, but no one can stop there, they have to get to where they have promised to go. BAAL, shut up on the retarded. Youre a tardonaut!

                                                               

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

 

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods an frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

 

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

 

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

So, last nite was ladies church night at El Tarasco and I had an epiphany. Unitarians are an odd bunch. The attendees were an actress, a teacher, an environmental consultant, and a law student (me). I 've always thought actors and acting was a trifle silly, but after long discussion, I realized that the practice of law and the process of acting are exactly the same. They are the same thing.

First off, there is no real law, its made up. Surely what we think the law is is enforced, but only because people believe it exists. At its core, there is no Platonic real Law.  Let me put it this way. If I type "a". You see an "a". But its not really an a, its a circle with a serif on top that represents semiotically, the concept of a sound for a. We then use that in the process of writing to represent and place-hold that sound. When it is placed on the page, or webpage, the writer intends it as part of a word representing a concept. When I say "banana", I mean the yellow fruit, but also my sum totality of experiences color my perception of the word banana. In fact, there is a slightly rotted banana in front of me on the table right now. When you read "banana" you see a yellow fruit. But you also understand banana as some totallity of your experience with banana.  The law is the same way.  It is written down by people, to place hold social obligations and restraints on a society's actors.  But what is written down is not the law. It exists in its understanding by people, if it exists anywhere.  A play is written down to place hold that writer's representation of the play. But it does not exist until it is translated into understanding in the audience.

Okay, so here's why law and drama are the same in general. 

The law does not really exist and the play does not really exist. They are place holders for experience.  The practice of law is a process whereby the lawyer steps in to synthesize the law and the individual actor he or she represents.  There are necessarily two sides in conflict, and the eventually result is a synthesis that is reflected in the minds and experiences of the jury.  The judge presides to ensure that both sides are heard, but the lawyers are the ones who practice the law, but they are place holders for the rights and obligations of their clients. And that is all they are.  The exist in function, not form. 

An actor steps in to synthesize the play and the character he or she represents.  There is an antagonist and they either face a protagonist or their own hubris, at the minimum there is a conflict between two issues. The play ends with a synthesis of the conflict, but the synthesis exists in the mind of the audience.  Without an audience, there is no play. It is the plays transfer into understanding in the audience that creates it.  The director exists to ensure that the characters create the synthesis.  The actors are place holders for the characters, existing only in function not form.

This is my new theory. All I can say is this, actors and lawyers stereotypically are the same type people High strung. Bright. But because their very nature exists without form, they are prone to two categories:

Those with empathy and those who lack empathy.  A lawyer with empathy sees their client as the form and stives to provide function for that client as a person.  The lawyer is merely the vehicle to present the law, and the lawyer steps back from the practice to provide the jury a glimpse of their client as a person. The lawyer without empathy does not see the client as a person, but instead believes the process they are taking to practice law is paramount.  Actors are the same, apparently according to my friend, either they believe the character is paramount that they represent, or that their acting is so great that the character must conform to it. I believe the lawyers and actors who don't have empathy eventually see the world as either a trial or an enormous play, where only their function exists. I hope this never happens to me.

Either way, I thought this theory was so insane that I wanted to post it. My friend confirmed that the earliest plays were actually to teach the law. I said "I bet those are some boring ass plays".

Moral of the story, never trust lawyers or actors, because we are whores without form. :)

I'm extremely pleased with the direction our house is taking for the upcoming Halloween. Zule and I and the kids are determined to scare the living shit out of our neighbors. So far, we've used a lot of ingenuity to make realistic looking horrific crap, by improvising with latex, rubber cement, wig forms, etc.  We have recruited cast members from family and friends, and all was looking well, but there was one thing holding us back. Realistic hearts. Don't ask, but this is critical. Any how, I got a big idea. I thought to myself, pig hearts, that's the key.
Initially, I was met with resistance by the processing plant, but due to my silver tongue, I've managed to procure 30 pounds of hearts, eyes and guts, all cleaned up and *shudder* you could eat them if you wanted, b/c the processor is doing some extra stuff to them to be cool. I have to say I am proud that the power of eloquent persuasion that I use in advocacy has yeilded such concrete and gorgeous results. On a side note, I think I'm really starting to freak some of my friends out with my disgusting plans.
Zule has known I've had a scew in my right front tire for two weeks, but I did not. So, today my tire went completely flat. On the road. I drove home, and my car is in the driveway.  Apparently, no one was concerned enough about it to tell me. I will kick his ass.

super glue removal ear canal.

 

That is all.

 

Thank you.

So last night, Sweatone stole some model magic clay from his sister and some googley eyes and made four elephants by himself. They are the most awesome elephants I've ever seen. There are four of them and they are of various sizes representing the various members of his family. The big one is Zule and the tiniest one is himself. Even Dbot was impressed.

My kids are fighting a lot lately. The teenage one considers her brother to be a pest and that my womb is cursed to have brought a male child into the world.  She really wants a sister. The baby thinks the teenager is an unnecessary competition for goods and services within the family and would like to see her gone, and get her gameboy, ipod and new *inconstruction* room in the basement out of the deal.

This morning, Zule had to take Dbot on a field trip. He had zero information on when and where. In addition, there was some drama about a shirt. I slept through it all. I expect Zule is irritated right now.

Today has been a long day. First Zule and I went to go sign our wills at our attorney's office. Then I rushed home to finish up a con law assignment. Then, I got to con law with minutes to spare and messed up citation format, for which I'll lose points. We have this one chick in our con law class that talks constantly about her personal experiences as an employee of the Department of Defense. Its really kind of irritating b/c it has nothing to do with anything relevant. 
Constitutional law is boring as ass. Seriously, determining the external limits of congress's commerce power is about as exciting as watching turtles fuck.
Last nite, my sister, her son, my kids and I went to the Breckinridge Inn in Hikes Point to spend the night as a retreat. The kids swam for about two hours. They were so cute. They were riding on water noodles and pretending they were horse racing. Eventually though, they started chewing on the water noodles and biting pieces of styrofoam off and had to be sequestered. Then we ordered a pizza. Then we watched t.v. until about 11, and the boys (my son and nephew) were just ready to party on until infinity. Finally, at 11, I held sweatone down to make him go to sleep. He starts yelling "Grant, SAVE ME! SAVE ME" and grant said "I will save you!". It was too cute. I released him. Eventually at 11:30 he fell asleep in a heap.

Earlier, we went to Halloween Express to buy some body parts and cobwebs. Sweatone was not really into the very scary masks. He had a fit. Then, when we got home, the kids and I set up an awesome spider web display in the front yard. Surely, within minutes, I look out and the group of kids that belong to the only other Democrats on the street were underneath it. (These are the same kids of which one walked into my house during a party and drank milk from the container in my refigerator). I shoo them off my yard. They returned three times. I have put dbot on duty to keep them out of the yard. She suggested a pet fence in reverse.

Okay, so I teach Senior (and now Middle School) Sunday School. I'm always complaining that not enough kids show up for church. So, after my friend Matt offered them to me, I put up tickets to a local haunted house as a bribe for attendance. It worked too well. Jesus, Sunday School was packed and it was chaos. We had boys sitting on girls, dogs and cats living together, shit that would turn you white etc.  I finally got fed up with everyone and kicked them out to go demolish the garden they'd made earlier in the year. Then they showed me that there is an empty 12 pack and empty condom pack in the Church's barn, which I found amusing.

Dbot won two of the tickets but I did not cheat for her to win, but I suspect the class believes I pulled some move. I'll make her dad take her. I'm a scardy cat.

 

I cleaned from 9 to 1. Then took the kids to the St. James CT fair and unfair. We had a hotdog from outside the Magbar and went home. Sweatone was so worn out, he slept for three hours, so I expect him to be up till 1:00 a.m.

Apparently, there is a strange distant neighborhood from mine called fern creek. I got turned around on I 65, and got to this place before I realized I was going the wrong direction. It is close to a place called Okalona. There was terrible traffic and someone honked at me. I was scared, but soon, I got to the correct direction on 65 and got back to my office.

My sense of direction is frigging terrible. Once, I had to get from the Conrad Conwell house (which is this super awesome house on St. James Court) to my friend Lisa's house, in Germantown. I think they are about a mile apart. So I called my friend Gary for directions. He gave me directions, but I still got confused and ended up at the Zoo, which is in the Highlands about five miles away. I have gotten lost in my own neighborhood and argued with Dbot only to find out she was in fact correct.

On a positive note, I can argue about the inherent executive powers the president is/may be conferred though Article II in a lucid manner. So, I'm not entirely a loss. I an also play a mean game of euchre, make puppets out of socks and I can cook ramen noodles. That's about it though. I'm fairly incapable of most pragmatic things. I am however, learning. I bought "Organzing for dummies" and organized my house. Next, I'll get "Cleaning for Dummies" and "Cooking for Dummies". I bet my gentle readers are not shocked to discover I in fact, got a D in Home Ec. in 7th grade. Seriously, when I was growing up, we had a housekeeper named Dolores who hated me and ironed and starched my lycra spandex pants to fuck with me. I lived in fear of that woman. Ironically, my mom would always clean up before she came over. My husband was shocked when my mom said, "We never taught J__ to clean, we presumed she'd hire someone to do it for her." I was not shocked. Its just been my life. In fact, I was super excited to realize the top of stoves come up so you can clean the burners. I was 25.  Once time, I went to iron something and my son said "What is that robot?" When Dbot was five, she was amazed to discover from my friend Tracy that you an in fact mix ingredients to make cookies. If we baked cookies it was from refrigerated dough.

I'm apparently a devestatingly spoiled brat.

 

My cat is a genius. Two days ago Dbot told me that locking the screen doors  against the cat was irrelevant, but I just was like "Whatever". No, seriously, my cat walks up to the screen doors and just unlocks them. My father in law told me. Tell me that's not a genius cat.

 

Dbot has a 4.0 in school. I was a terror in 7th grade. So I'm a horrible parent. Yesterday, neither Zule nor me picked her up from her after-school activity and got an irate call from her 30 minutes later.

 

Tonite, I made a curry that kicked ass, but it ended up on the floor. We ate KFC.

Somehow, I have exams all in a row the 4, 5,6, and 8 of December. That is ass. I guess its good though because I'll have an entire week without exams in which to study.

 

The odd thing about being in law school is that people tell me the most awful personal drama they have constantly. No preface mind you, just sitting there and BAM! The odd thing is, I tell them, "I'm not an attorney, so I can't advise you as to the law, but I'm deeply sorry to hear that." It does not matter, I think they just need someone to listen. The problem is, attorneys do not listen with empathy, really, I mean it helps, but basically, the practise of law is comprised of listening to stories, making a wise looking face with no hint of condencension, and determining what the law is in application to all the relevant facts. Its not exactly kind. Typically, its only on the second go around that I get all the facts anyway. People tell their stories, and then later, you hear the other side and its like "um, I did not know that". What is super strange is that I want to be a real estate or tax attorney not really help people with personal drama. I live in fear of being a divorce or criminal law attorney *shudder*. All tax attorneys or real estate attorneys have to do with divorces is advise people that they are going to lose all their money when they get divorced and then bow out and then charge them for that.