World Saved by Polyester

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Gray Hair Sends Woman Into Tailspin

I found my first gray hair today. I'm not really concerned about having gray hairs as such, but the fact of it put the reality of my finite lifetime and disappearing youth into sharp focus. Obviously I always knew I was getting older, but now I know for certain that from now on there will not be a time when I do not have gray hairs. A big fat reminder of this forward march toward death. Not to be melodramatic or anything but I'm mildly distressed. Also I can't seem to bring myself to do my Trial Ad homework even though class is in 1-1/2 hours and I have done nothing to prepare for the ten minute opening statement I have to give. I skipped Tax because I was feeling mopey. I am 50 pages into Ian McEwan's book, Saturday, and am not enjoying it. (Does anyone know if it gets better, or should I just chuck it? I hated the last book I read by him, Atonement.)

Juice Thwarts Advances of Library Goons by Returning Books Within Month of Being Overdue

I just finished reading Zadie Smith's White Teeth, which was truly marvelous. A rich, chewy, smart, funny novel. One hundred times better than her more recent On Beauty, which was kind of gaggy and boring.

And I finally made it through Gina Kolada's book about the 1918 flu, which had so much potential but was instead poorly written, frustrating to read, and basically a complete waste of time and paper, its only redeeming quality being that the author's name has a pleasing phonetic similarity to a tasty tropical drink. I wish I had jettisoned the book a week ago when it was clear that things were not going to improve; instead, a martyr without a cause, I slogged through the damn thing with my face fixed in a more or less permanent scowl. She could have taken all of the information contained in the whole stupid book and condensed it into a 2000-word article and then it would have been worth reading. Maybe.

Other tasty books read recently: Jonathan Safran Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (full of imagination and energy and heart) and Kafka on the Shore, by Haruki Murakami (fun and quite rigorous in its absurdity, which in this case is a good thing).

Minneapolis Woman Takes Initial Steps Toward Becoming Less Pathetic Person

Last night as we were standing outside the Fine Line waiting to get into the Jolie Holland show I was inspired to add another item to my list of new year's resolutions. I had just finished showing the bouncer my id and was holding out my arm so that he could put a wrist-band on it. He shook his head and said, "right arm." A more intuitive and intelligent person would have simply extended the other arm immediately thus avoiding the embarassment of reminding her spouse once again that she does not know the difference between left and right. Instead, I pulled my other hand out of my pocket, pocketed the wallet that I had been holding in my outsretched hand, held both hands in front of me, extended my thumbs and index fingers to see which hand creates an "L," then extended the opposite arm, having determined that it was the right arm. The whole process is not so complicated as I just made it sound, I do it discreetly several times a day, but for some reason, last night--perhaps because I had to take the extra step of pocketing my wallet--it seemed to take extra long and I felt especially pathetic. Shad just smiled, shook his head, and gave me a pitying kiss on the cheek. He claims that among the advanced members of the human species, knowledge of left and right is as fundamental as knowing "up" from "down." This is truly astonishing to me. How is it possible that I have not ever learned this? Ever? How did everyone else learn it?

So, I am going to learn my left and right this year. I feel a bit apprehensive about embarking on this endeavor because I'm wary of adding yet another constant fact to the already large list of constant facts that I have to carry around in my brain. As I see it, there are things that you just know (constant facts) and there are things that you know how to figure out when necessary (the left hand makes an "L" if you extend the thumb and index finger). Certainly, it's efficient to carry around a number of constant facts because it saves the energy involved in figuring them out: "This way is forward. That way is backwards. I am a wife. I am a daughter. I am a law student." (c.f. "Who is this man that has been hanging around with me for eight and a half years? I have a ring on my finger. He has a ring in a drawer somewhere. He must be my spouse. I must be a wife.") But sometimes it just makes sense to figure things out as you need to know them: "What is that sound? It appears that the neighbors have carried all of their living room furniture and their tv into the backyard. They have controllers in their hands. That sound must be the video game they are apparently playing."

I realize of course that the directions of left and right are constant facts and it would make sense to just learn them and file them away in my mental rolodex of facts. Plus it will prevent potentially embarassing situations: "So you see, my client could not have been the killer, because the victim died of a stab wound by a right-handed individual, and as you now see, my client is...hold on a second...right handed. Crap." But is there a limit to the number of constant facts that we are able to carry around? I don't really want to clutter my brain with all of them.

Anyway, I'm basically blathering on here. I just want to ask you to help me out by testing me occasionally when you see me and stuff like that. And if you have any tips for me, please let me know.

In other news, Shad and I have been giggling about the Worth1000 apple photoshopping contest.

Unscrupulous Former Friend Blackmails Minneapolis Woman

Statement of Facts:

In December 2005 the Juice notices a small hole in the back of Jason's shirt. She offers to fix it, demanding no consideration in exchange for this service. Jason delivers the shirt to the Juice. The parties stipulate that the Juice failed to fix the shirt in what the reasonable person would consider "a timely manner." On January 3, 2007, Jason informs the Juice that he has procured an unflattering picture of her and has posted it on his refrigerator. The details of the photo are largely unknown but evidence suggests that a Fry Daddy and a great deal of alcohol are involved. Juice is aware that fellow law students and other associates have seen and will continue to see this picture if it is not removed immediately. Jason says the picture will remain on his refrigerator until the shirt is fixed and returned to him.

The Juice fixes the shirt on January 4, 2007, during a meeting of the International Craft Conspiracy. Approximately thirty minutes were spent in mending the shirt, including: (1) twenty minutes complaining to lady-friends about the situation; (2) sixty seconds drunk-dialing Jason to complain about the blackmail tactics; (3) two minutes digging through mending pile to find the shirt; (4) twenty seconds sewing the shirt; and (5) three minutes ironing the shirt. The next day, the Juice informs Jason that the mended shirt is in her possession and that she would like to deliver the shirt promptly, and demands the photograph and all underlying files in return.

The following Monday, Juice delivers the shirt. Jason does not deliver the photograph nor the underlying files. Believing Jason to be a man of integrity, Juice does not press the issue, until subsequent events arouse some suspicion regarding his actual intentions with this photograph. On January 18, the Juice calls Jason to inquire about the picture. At that time, Jason informed her that the picture would remain on the refrigerator for the same length of time that the Juice held the shirt--approximately 13 months. The Juice vehemently disagrees with this plan, believes his actions violate the terms of their agreement, and demands an immediate return of the picture.

On Friday, January 19, Jason calls the Juice, who admittedly answers the phone with some hostility because the call had interrupted a particularly hot game of Weboggle. Jason gets all huffy about her attitude and negotiations break down. Later that day the Juice learns that the picture is indeed still posted, albeit moved "to the side of the refrigerator, not in plain view."

Issues:

(1) Whether a valid contract was formed at the time Jason posted the picture, demanding the return of his shirt in exchange for its removal?
(2) Whether Jason's failure to remove the picture following full performance by the Juice represents a breach of express or implied contract?
(3) Whether Jason REALLY wants to play this game? Does he know who he is dealing with?

Man Returns Book Overdue Since 1960; Exposes Juice as a Mere Amateur

Stories like this are so inspiring.

Yet, distressingly, we owe the brookdale library more money than that guy owed after having a book for 47 years. Someday I'll pay them back and then we can borrow books from them again using our real names.

Happy New Year!

Crummy weather put a kink in our admittedly overambitious party-hopping plans, but we had a great night all the same--we danced the night away, drank the bubbly, set off fireworks, and even had a run-in with the cops. ("No officers, they're just sparklers! Really! See?")

Happy New Year everyone!