Northern Sky

I've been on three dates with Bee's Knees and I haven't been this happy in a long time. She's funny, intelligent, cute, has such a sweet voice that I feel like kissing her each time she talks (which would then prevent her from using that sweet voice -- hmmmm, quite a conundrum). Oh, and most importantly, she thinks I'm swell.

And in the meantime, work just keeps getting worse and worse. How can I be so happy and so miserable at the same time?

Also, at the risk of being a downer, Bee's Knees presents a bit of a problem blogging. How would she feel knowing that I'm writing about her? I haven't told her about the blog just yet, though she has the same quirky sense of humor (and writing) that I have. There's a part of me that's just not ready to let her know all my quirks and insecurities for fear of massively creeping her out. And independent of that is the whole privacy issue - how will she react to being written about? Oh, then there's the whole reader / writer concern - if she doesn't mind being written about, will she ask for edits? So for now, this will be the only entry about Bee's Knees.

Burn Baby Burn

"I'm hard on you because I hope you learn something." Don't you just love folks who attempt to justify their craptastic behavior by treating it as mentoring? When I was eight, my dad used to beat my ass with a 2 by 4 until I got the multiplication table right. I learned fast, I took calculus by the time I was in tenth grade, but I can tell you to this day, I hate math.

Don't Say It's A Comeback

Yeah yeah yeah. It's been a while. Let's recap what's happened since I've been out in the real world:
1) There's a cute chica down in Irvine from match.com who thinks I'm just swell, and I think she's the bee's knees, but we still haven't met face to face;
2) Another MidLaw has passed, and SmallLaw is beginning to feel more and more like a prison, and;
3) After spending 30 hours in the office on the weekend (and cancelling the first date with bee's knees due to work), I get this nasty cold, get told my work isn't up to snuff on that Monday (but then get told on Tuesday to ignore what was said on Monday), take tha Wednesday off because I'm coughing up a lung, and find out that a partner was bitching that I took a day and a half off.

Hmmm, to summarize - chica: good. Work: Fucking nasty vortex of misery.