noises?

I think it’s pretty common knowledge that law school prepares you for practicing law about as well as seeing a cow-shaped object in the distance prepares you for making cheese, but I seriously wish someone would have taught a class called “Attorney/Client Relations: Trust is a Two Way Street; or HAHAHAHA” preparing me to have the following conversation at least twice a week:

Attorney: And, as always, I would like to end this conversation by reminding you not to do X.

Client: Oh, was I not supposed to do X?

Attorney: …yes? I explained as much when I explicitly told you not to do X. And then hired that skywriter to write “DO NOT DO X” over your home, place of work, and that Applebees you like off of 9th Street. 

Client: Oh. ‘Cause I did X yesterday. 

Attorney: Really. 

Client: Sorry. But it’s okay, b/c you can fix it with your legal superpowers. 

Attorney: I’m going to go sit under my desk until my rage subsides.

Client: Laterz!

curiousgeorgiana:

squee-gee:

dailycuteboy:

Chris Evans

I realized why i’m crushing on this dude so hard: he looks EXACTLY like my 3rd grade boyfriend.

Your 3rd grade boyfriend had some smokin’ abs.

Er, wow. Chris Evans could be simultaneously impersonating He-Man, getting hit in the face with a dodge ball, eating grass, and terrifying his younger siblings by pretending to be a werewolf (all things my grade school boyfriend was locally famous for) and there would still be 0% resemblance there. If my 8 year old self could have torn herself away from watching You Can’t Do That On Television, she might have been jealous.

I just escaped a three hour heinous “lunch” “meeting” during which I resorted to amusing myself by playing the I Watched Inception for the 23424th Time Last Night & am Wasting My Mental Facilities by Daydreaming about Random Celebrities as the Dream Architect game. I’m an unbelievable nerd, so this is hardly surprising. My two favorite scenarios:

(1) Katy Perry

Cobb: Let’s go. I estimate we only have ten minutes to locate the Chancellor and track her to the location of the lock box. Anyone have any final questions?

Arthur: Yes. 

Eames: I too have a question. Who the fuck designed this dream?

Ariadne: Yes. Yes, thank you. 

Eames: Aren’t we supposed to be in Berlin? 

Cobb: Yeah. 

Eames: …

Cobb: What?

Arthur: Nothing, I guess. I suppose I simply wasn’t aware of Germany’s recently adopted policy that all historical statues must be replaced by oversized cotton candy replicas of Katy’s breasts.

Eames: And Cobb. I know languages aren’t your strength, love, but that sign over there says that in order to gain entry to Reichstag, you must feed the security guards gumdrops. The security guards who are clad in pink latex hot pants covered in what appears to be fake fruit and bubblegum lip gloss on a string. 

Cobb: Oh, shit. 

Ariadne: Seriously, Cobb, I am willing to write a song about sexing up an alien for you if it means you’ll fire her and give me the job back.

(2) Bear Grylls 

Cobb: Let’s go. I estimate we only have ten minutes to locate the Chancellor and track her to the location of the lock box. Anyone have any final quest…

Eames: THAT WOLF IS EATING THAT PROJECTION. 

Cobb: …ions?

Ariadne: Wait, how are we supposed to get to Berlin from here? Where are we?

Eames: WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW. IT’S LOOKING OVER HERE.    

Bear: In order to survive and reach the safety of Berlin, we will need to quickly trek westwards out of these mountains. The first thing we need to do is…

Arthur: If the next words out of your mouth have anything to do with drinking my own urine, I’m going to use you as a human shield when Mal comes for us. 

Ariadne: Seconded. 

Hi! I’m a reformed & former Jezebel lurker, a long time fandom dweller, and a 30-something attorney with a specialty in the follow areas:

(1) Boxing movie training montages

(2) Trying and failing to learn foreign languages

(3) Pugs in costumes

(4) Real Estate Law

(5)

In honor of starting this account on Father’s Day, one of my favorite memories of my dad: about ten years ago, my father decided to cash in on his passing (very passing) resemblance to Eric Clapton and would visit music stores for the sole purpose of lingering in the guitar section & giving other customers an “OMG!!1! It’s… oh, wait” moment.