exitstrategy

Remember snaggle?  Well, there was one distinct feature I did not disclose (in case he called and we had those snaggle babies) - he had a crater face.  You know, like that guy in Grease who drag-raced with Danny who covered for Kinicki (pronounced: crat-ah face).  It is a jacked face with crevices in it from past acne.  In SAT speak - Crater Face is to pizza face as butterfly is to caterpiller.  You know, one begets the other. But, this entry is not another love letter to snaggle, the crat-ah face.  It is actually about how we can learn a lot about a person’s character by the quality of his/her skin tone.  This may seem both a ridiculous and a superficial theory - and it is both, but I swear it is true. Think back to all the evil villians from the 80s movies - they all had crater faces.  Crater faces are evil dudes.  And, pizza faces?  Not the youthful ones because lots of people had bad skin in high school (not me - I had perfect skin, my problem was rather my frizzy hair before the dawn of straighteners).  No, the adult pizza face.  Well the adult pizza face is a pervert.  I mean what are they doing to get so greasy in the face?  Exactly, something bad.  The orange face (the self-tanner)?  They are delusional.  I mean who believes that (a) orange is natural and (b) one can get a “natural” orange tan in winter?  What about pierced face?  They are faux sexual deviants but really uptight people trying to appear edgey or they are just freaks.  And also stuck in the past.  Like who still gets their eyebrows pierced?  Ugh, or that marilyn monroe piercing?  Give me a break. In short- I belong in sixth grade but come one, who doesn’t think pizza face is hilarious?  And crater faces really are scary.  There is a guy I work with who has craters.  He gives me the ick.  And there was a crater face I went to law school with who had a mail order bride.  Do you need more proof?  

I do believe in karma - which is why I am a mostly nice person and while I mostly suffer in silence.  I figure that what goes around comes around and eventually my goodness will be rewarded.  I even tried to get into the Secret but it was a little too much - I mean positive thoughts cannot help you lose a hundred pounds.  Ok, well maybe it can, but it CANNOT help you recover from the trauma of a rape.  I watched the creepy reverend on Oprah talking about the power of positive energy and how you reap what you sow and there was this woman who had been raped (presumably because she was not positive enough reverend?) but she was able to get over the trauma and the shock and the fear by thinking positive.  I am glad it worked for her but I know that the only way I get through really traumatic experiences is to actually get through the really traumatic experiences not by sending forced positivity into the universe. But, I digress.  This blog is about karma, not the secret.  And, coincidentally it is about Oprah (ha so is almost every blog - put me on your show!!!!)  So, as I said, I think I am a good person and will experience the good part of karma.  The fat bastard I work with and the other yucky people I encounter will get the bad end.  Or, so I thought.  But apparently I am not as nice as I think I am.  Or, perhaps the masters of the universe REALLY like Will.I.Am.   See, after my divine encounter with the cab driver a few weeks ago, I have been taking as many cab rides as possible to see what G-d has planned for me.  And, for a while, these cab rides were very informative.  Last week I had a doctor’s appointment and then decided to work from home on MLK day.  The cab driver asked if I was playing hooky from work.  ”No, I am working from home today because of the holiday.”  ”Oh, how nice.  Yeah have you seen this article?”  He pointed out an article in the Red Eye about whether bars should install cameras inside to be able to easily identify any bad dudes that may cause problems in the bar.  ”Oh, that sounds smart to have the cameras.”  ”No, I don’t think so.  See, people go to the bars to let loose and be crazy.  They don’t want that to be on camera.  It is the same in cabs.  Some cabs, not this one, have cameras.  But, it is a problem for a lot of people because when they get back there they want to have privacy.  Like at night, they want to do their kinky stuff.”  Either that man was asking me to do kinky stuff or he was prophesying about good weekends to come (oh gross).  Because he was even snagglier than snaggle, I decided it was the latter if for nothing else than my own sense of safety.  But, then, out of nowhere my motivational, inspirational, and/or prophetic cab rides stopped on Friday night.  I was heading to my friend’s engagement party.  The cab driver passed the restaurant and kept driving.  ”Excuse me sir, but you passed the restaurant.  I said 1558.”  He slammed on the breaks and said “Get out here.  This way you can earn the mexican food you are about to eat.”  Wait a second, was this man in cahootz with the gym lady with tourrettes?  I mean what could I have done to earn such hard treatment?  Was it because I dissed America’s song, and by extension the divine Ms. Winfrey?  I guess it might be due to the fact that I was snappy when I got in the car because he did not where the restaurant was.  Or perhaps on account of the fact that I was snappy because he could not break a $20 (ugh I hate that - I mean its not a benjamin.  All cab drivers should be able to break a $20).  Or perhaps it was the fact that I had been on a hungover binge all day Friday (ugh I went to a painful singles event that had no appetizers and cheap wine causing me to roll into work late and gnaw on stale cinnamon rolls all day) and probably COULD have used the exercise.  Oh, I get it.  I actually am a bitch.  That explains why I am Fat Spinsta.  OMG - that cab driver was even more of a messenger than the angel with the ear wax and the gummy warms.  This cab driver was like the ghost of christmas future who shows you how crappy things will get if you don’t change.  It is all clear to me now.  G-d bless us, everyone.  

So, yeah maybe I was a little unrealistic thinking that things would change over night.  It is possible that I thought I would wake up this morning and would be leading an entirely different life.  But, alas, no I am still living the same crappy life.  This morning was great, actually.  I woke up, watched the GMA recap of the inaugural balls.  I got to see clips of Beyonce sing At Last one more time (it was soooo good).  And, I even walked to work.  But, as soon as I swiped my ID badge to get into the building, things took a dramatic turn.  First, I had a message from the fat prick as soon I arrived to my office.  He told me we were going to have a group meeting over lunch.  Great.  And then my nemesis associate did the first of many stomping trips down the hall to her million meetings.  That was my day - counting down the minutes to the dreaded lunch meeting and then having to listen to that freakshow clomp clomp down the hall.   So let’s take these indignities one at a time: 1) The lunch meeting.  Apparently, it is a well known rule (that I did not know) that male partners have no manners.  During the lunch meeting (I did not get lunch - only the partners), I had to listen to these men chew.  I mean it was like a cow with its cud.  And, not surprisingly, fatty chewed open mouth and breathed loudly while doing it.  I have never experienced anything as disgusting.  Oh, wait, a bit of fatty’s hamburger flew from his mouth and landed on my brief.  It just stared at me.  The combination of fatty’s cud and all his red marks was too much to bear.   2) The clomps.  So, there is this chick who just LOVES working.  She works at night, she works on the weekend, she works on vacation.  She has told us all that the reason for this intense workload is because she has no friends in town and so nothing else to do.  Fine, do my work clown.  Everyday she wears a giant wrap and clomps down the hall throwing the wrap across her body, clomping, and rethrowing it.  Sometimes she will smirk into my office during her clomp.  ”Hi Fat Spinsta.  What are you working on?”  ”Oh you know, just researching.”  ”Ha, I don’t remember the last time I just researched.  I feel like I am just constantly on the go.  Walking back and forth to meetings.  Crazy.  Well, enjoy your researching.  Ha.  Ha.  Ha.”  Um, don’t you mean clomping?   I was trying to remember if I have ever had a worse professional day before?  Well, I work in a terrible profession so I am sure, but none come to mind.  There was one day though, during my first job.  I was a waitress at a family style theme restaurant.  I had to wear a white blouse and a tie which already made me feel uncomfortable.  And then I had to shadow this woman who took WAY too much pride in her job.  And, finally, I had to give an opening paragraph to the customers before giving them menus when all they really wanted was the giant slab of bread that I was holding.  ”GIVE US THE BREAD.  I DON’T CARE ABOUT WHAT MAMA USED TO COOK IN ITALY.  BREAD!!”  This went on for several hours.  I started getting tired so I was walking a little slower.  Well, my psychotic mentor got right up behind me, started clapping her hands vigorously and shouted “sense of urgency, you must serve with a sense of urgency.”  ”Excuse me, miss.  Where is my bread?  And my son needs another gigantic coke and my fat husband needs more cheese for his giant lasagna.”  ”Sense of urgency!!”  ”My coke!!!”  ”WHAT WOULD MAMA DO?”  It was too much pressure.  I loosened my tie, took off my apron, handed it to my psychotic mentor and walked out. I forgot about that terrible family and that nazi waitress coach until I met them again today.  I wonder if I can just walk off the job?    

I am sitting on my couch, watching the Neighborhood Ball and eating a low fat ice cream sandwich (after witnessing one man change the face of American politics, I figured I could change the ass of yours truly).  I feel a little lighter today, as I am sure a lot of Americans are feeling - and the low fat ice cream is clearly not the only reason. I watched Obama’s inauguration address in a conference room at my office.  The TV was from the Reagan administration and was all fuzzy and you could barely see anything.  But, you could see the mass of people who were there to witness history.  Even obscured, it was an awesome thing to see.   I was expecting a very well written speech, delivered in his impeccable style and I got what I expected.  It was very moving.  I was especially moved when he mentioned that he is the son of a father who not that long ago would not have been able to eat in certain restaurants.  I am very proud to be an American and I am very privileged to have witnessed history. I mean I do have a few gripes, of course (I mean its the Spinsta, I can never be completely happy).  First of course was the crappy TV - like people, I think you can spring for a TV that can withstand the switch to digital (even my grandparents have a more advanced set).  And of course the company was not who I would choose to witness history with - one clown did not know who swore in Biden.  (Yes, this person was a lawyer and NO this person was not me - I love John Paul!!)  And then there was the Chief Justice’s flub - I do not think I have ever felt smarter than when I knew that one of the smartest men in our country had made a mistake, apparently before he did.  And, finally, not surprising but the Jew did not love Reverend Warren’s speech.  I mean clearly his speech was not that religiously neutral - although I have learned from reading reviews of the speech he made a shout out to Jews and Muslims in the opener when he said the Shamah and a phrase that is commonly used in Muslim prayer.  It was WAY to obscure though for me to notice - which was probably intentional.  Make them Jews work for it.  But, fine we live in a predominately Christian country and at least our president is not beholden to the religious right so I will hold my tongue during the Lord’s Prayer, but I mean was it necessary to use like 18 different words for Jesus?  Now you are just showing off Mr. Warren. Even those gripes though are really not that big of deal.  Today was a historic day and I feel very hopeful for tomorrow.  G-d bless America!! I keep hearing how today proves the truth of the phrase “you can be anything you set your mind to.”  Watching these balls, I have decided what I want to set my mind to - I would like to be first lady (ha, loaded statement because that implies that I get married and talk about marrying up but anyways . . .).  See, to paraphrase from the brilliant Barbara Streisand in her nearly final concert - if I do that, then I will be the first “real Jewish American princess” (she used to refer to a chance encounter with Prince Charles and so the phrase makes more sense, but you get the point).

I am a HUGE Oprah fan. Like most of America, I am convinced that the woman can do no wrong. But today, I hate to say it, my hero had a misstep. During her second all new episode, Oprah had various guests talk about today as The Day of Service and to reflect on how far we have come since Martin Luther King Jr.’s I have a Dream speech.

I will admit that I only saw the second half so maybe the first half was great. If so, I apologize. But the second half, well it was not great. I saw Oprah interview the first couple of American politics - yes Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher. Demi is so excited and hopeful and both her and Ashton are major fans of Obama. In fact, Demi even overcame her fear and spoke in a front of an audience (apparently an experience completely different that her speaking in front of Oprah’s life studio audience) during the campaign. And, because Demi and Ashton are such civic minded people, they produced an internet video clip with various “celebrities” making vows to improve the world.

Nicole Ritchie “vowed” - I mean that’s it. She did not say what she vowed - just that she did vow. And the girl who played the evil bitch on Gossip Girl - she also vowed. The world is gonna get so much better. P. Diddy who could probably afford to run an entire city with his own personal fortune, vowed to “turn off the lights.” What a mench. And the most world changing vow was made by the divine Ashlee Simpson. The little trainwreck vowed to “be a good mother.” Except for the fact that her vow will only help her child (who I am sure the world at large feared would live a tough life - well, Joe Simpson is scary so yeah I guess we were a little afraid), I can feel change brewing.

There is nothing that gets me more riled up that celebrities who try to be political. Like when a major world event happens, and Entertainment Tonight interviews stars on the red carpet. “I am Mary Hart here with Kelly Ripa. Kelly, what do you think about the fighting in Gaza?” “Oh Reej”

Perhaps one of the most embarassing moments in the episode was when J.T. gave a little shout out about MLK day and said “America has swagger now that Barack is in office. We cool.” He is indeed the poet of our generation.

The final insult was a song called “America’s song.” It was a poor man’s We Are the World. I mean it was written by Will.I.Am, who I believe was instrumental in helping Fergie coin the phrase “my lovely lady lumps.” Again, a voice of this generation.

I stand with Demi and Ashton and all the politicos that were on the Oprah special (interestingly, all the stars interviewed were white, except for those involved in the crappy song) - I am very excited for tomorrow. I think we are on the verge of something great and tomorrow is indeed history in the making. Let’s just not write a crappy song about it.

I was having a pleasant conversation with some associates.  We were gossiping and talking about our plans for the weekend.  Then, one said that she has to write a brief but doesn’t have enough time to do it so that her “work product” will be poor.  As soon as she said it, I had a flash back to an incident that occurred at my prior firm.  I was working on a case with a girl and our task was to help prepare the partners to take depositions.  She would constantly talk about “dep prep.”  Sometimes I will be out with my friends and one of them will mention the “leverage” of their law firm.  Ugh, or this one time, I went to a bar associate happy hour and got stuck talking to some total douche who talked about all the “unique opportunities” available at his law firm and he went on to list them all: pro bono, mentoring, substantive experience, blah blah - like he was an ad for his crappy firm. I know for a fact that all but one or two of my friends, all my other friends who practice law, truly hate the practice of law (I should preface this by saying that we all work at law firms).  There are numerous statistics about how young associates are disenchanted with their law firms.  And, if you ever meet an attorney and ask him or her about his/her job you will undoubtedly be told that it sucks. So, given the fact that no one likes working at a law firm (with the exception of the major gunners and the partners who make a lot of money and boss you around and some who are super fat and nasty and get to be mean to women to compensate for his failure to find a woman who would touch him), why do associates use these legal words?  There are many possible explanations.  The most simple explanation probably applies to the majority of these unhappy associates: they are douches.  I mean using the word “work product” is the ultimate in douchey behavior.  But, some of my non-douchey friends use these words.  What’s their excuse?  They are trying to sound smart?  No, because then they fall within the first group - the douches.  They secretly enjoy their job?  Well, I mean maybe that is true but I just cannot conceive of how it is possible.  The answer, I believe, is referred to by psychologists as “Stockholm Syndrome.”  It refers to kidnap victims who identify with their kidnappers, regardless of the danger they were forced to endure.  And with that, I am going to go ping some people (note: if you didn’t know what that meant, fear not because I didn’t either but my friend who is a much better attorney told me it is what douchey people say to mean email/im/call/text/or otherwise contact someone - you know like the ping sound the computer makes when you send a g). 

This morning I was delivered some very bad news.  Today.com, the website that hosts this magical blog, informed me that I have too few viewers and so I got a pay cut.  Yes, I make money from this site.  I used to get $1 each time I blog.  Now, I get $2 when 1,000 different people view my site.  Oh, and I won’t get paid until I earn at least $50 dollars which clearly will NEVER happen.   I am a very accomplished attorney.  I once represented a pro bono client and single handedly (along with the partner’s hands and a paralegal’s hands) brought justice to a very talented artist.  This artist had signed a really bad contract.  It was not so bad as to be unenforceable, but it was a shitty contract that made one wonder just who would sign such a bad contract.  My client was an uneducated individual who probably didn’t know better.  I, on the other hand, am somewhat educated in all things legal seeing as how I went to law school and advise clients about contract matters.  And yet, I signed a contract that even my pro bono client would scoff at. But, I am bound by this shitty deal.  So, what do I do?  You see, while existrategy is a cute little name for a blog, this blog is in fact my exit strategy.  I was hoping to turn the proceeds from this blog into a way to earn living without having to work at a law firm.  Unfortunately, even with my “salary” prior to the pay cut, I would have to stop blogging eventually since I would be living in a cardboard box below a bridge (I mean I would earn a maximum of $365 a year and I doubt these clowns are providing health or dental).  Now, I won’t even be able to get a McDonald’s happy meal until next December (and I will be living in the bathroom of the McDonald’s saving up for that delicious chicken nuggets meal). The answer to my dilemma is simple: I need your help.  I know yesterday that I said Facebook had but one purpose - to stalk ex loves.  Well, there is one other use for facebook: to help Fat Spinsta (no not starving children who want you to donate their statuses to).  So, if you love the Spinsta, post a link to this blog on your facebook.  But remember, I am ANONYMOUS.   I would like to thank all my fans for their continued support as the Spinsta enters a new stage in her life: poverty.  Well that is an exaggeration and an insensitive one at that, but THE SPINSTA NEEDS A NEW PAIR OF BOOTIES!  I mean if I can’t have snaggle, at least I can buy stuff to numb the pain of loss.   So, in short, think Jenny is: sleepy and a fan of extistrategy (insert link), or Tom is: TGIF mo-fos and check out this blog!, or Cameron is: drowning in her own tears and oh I guess look at this link.  The Spinsta will throw a turkey at her biggest fan.   

I have talked to many people and they all have a different take on Facebook status messages.  Some people just love them.  I like to know what people are doing at the exact moment that I sign on to Facebook, they say.  I want to share my feelings with the world, they say.  I am starved for attention, they say. My feelings on the status message is decidedly mixed.  I don’t mind learning that Jenna is eating sushi, or Bill is working yuck, or Mary is wondering why my cat can read my thoughts.  But lately I have noticed a proliferation of political status messages.  Bob is [insert statistic about the fighting in Gaza]; John is [insert statistic about the automobile industry]; Sara is [you get the gist].  I don’t have a problem with people expressing their political views.  In fact, I encourage it.  But there is something not quite right when you scroll down your statuses and its reads as follows: Molly is enjoying a soy latte, Eric wants to nap gadzooks (oy why I am fb friends with a guy who says gadzooks?); Sam is [3,000 rockets have fallen on Israel in the past _ days).  Perhaps there is a better way to express your political views than by sending statuses about those views to people who already are your friends and likely think the same way as you do.  Political expression is more appropriately done on blogs directed to the world at large, not just your own universe of friends.  You know, like exitstrategy.  I am sure many people who live outside of Fat Spinsta’s universe read this blog (and if not tell your friends people!!!  we must spread the word). Let’s agree to keep facebook as a tool to stalk old loves, not spread politics.  And with that, I am off to friend snaggle.  It’s me LOVER. 

There are a lot of hot vampires these days: the lead in Twilight, the mysterious guy in True Blood, Hugh Jackman when he was that vampire.  Hot vampires are nothing new.  I loved Angel and wanted to be his eternal amor since I was way better than that stupid Buffy.  I am no logician but I did take a few basic classes in college.  I know how to form a syllogism.  It goes like this:  All Vampires are young looking.  Young looking makes someone hot.  So, it stands to reason that all vampires are hot.  Right?WRONG!  Last weekend I had a date with a vampire and he was no Angel.  I know what you are thinking - did he bite me?  No.  Worse.  He looked totally normal but everytime he would open his mouth he would reveal a mouth full of jagged pointy snaggle teeth.  Yikes.So snaggle and I met for drinks after work.  We talked about work, family, television, guns (yeah I know - yikes, but I know that vampires can only be harmed by a stake to the heart), and some other topics.  About an hour or so later, we were heading out.  When we got outside, snaggle hailed a cab, turned to me, hugged me and said “smell ya later.”  Well, he did not actually say smell you later, but that was the subtext.  My snaggle tooth vampire was not hot.  In fact, he was very average looking.  And yet, snaggle gave me - the infamous Fat Spinsta - the brush off.  I don’t get it.  Now of course since snaggle is playing hard to get, I can’t stop thinking how I want to bear little snaggle babies.  I incidentally met a girl who dated snaggle a few years ago.  She asked how I knew snaggle and I told her we went on one date.  She told me he is great.  And then she said to me, “Oh ha I have the funniest story.  You will HAVE to tease snaggle about it.  See, when we were dating, the Paris Hilton sex tape was released.  So, I went to his apartment and told him - oh snaggle, you have got to download the video.  When snaggle went to show me the video he had downloaded, it started playing kiddie porn.  The download was mislabeled.  He was so embarrassed.  Isn’t that hilarious?  You totally have to tell him I told you that story.” No, random drunk girl, that story is not hilarious.  But are you telling me that my beloved snaggle is freaky?  Oh snaggle, my love, I will wait for you forever.  I love you.  Of course, if you do ask me out again I will no longer love (or even like) you and your snaggle teeth will bother me and I won’t respect you for having dated such a clown.  But until then, this womb is for you snaggle and for our snaggle babies.   

I guess it is becoming a regular thing that every Saturday night something extraordinary happens. Last week, G-d sent me an angel in the shape of a candy loving cab driver. And this Saturday, I did something I have never done before.

No, not that you perv! I said the PERFECT thing. I am not very quick on my feet - yes I am a professional litigator. Whenever I get into an argument with someone, I go blank. I can never come up with that perfect come-back. A few years ago, I was at a law school party. There was this one girl who hated me for no reason. Apparently she thought I was trying to steal away her guy friends. So, this girl came up to me at the party and said “look around here - these are my friends. You should be aware of your place and you should STEP OFF.” I have never been in a “chick fight” before and I was not prepared for this confrontation. How do I respond to this? I mean where does this bitch get off attacking me? “Um, I don’t know what you are talking about?” “Just be aware and STEP OFF!,” she screamed. Long pause, bitch begins to turn and walk away. “You know, I don’t know what you are talking about. I mean don’t you think its a bit problematic to tell someone to step off and then not tell that person what to step off from?” I can’t remember her response to that whopper because I was too busy repeating the lame statement in my head.

There have been numerous other times when I flubbed the winning comeback. I think it is probably my parents’ fault. I mean after 28 years of repressing your feelings, it is hard to think of snappy comments on cue. But, after 28 years, I finally had my moment.

It happened last night at a bday party. The party was downstairs in an uns-uns (i don’t how to spell the sound of booming bass) club. I had made an elegant entrance - I fell down the stairs. And I certainly made a winning exit. I had checked my coat. By the time we were getting our coats to leave, the bar was filled with random tight t-shirt wearing cheeseballs and they were all in line waiting to check their coats. Not in the mood to wait in line, my friend took the ticket out of my hand and handed it to the coat attendant. The tight t-shirt cheeseball who was the next in line got very angry. He started screaming. He said my friend wasn’t hot enough to cut the line (not only was his remark false and offensive, but he and the majority of the bar patrons were thoroughly heinous) and he said that he hated when people acted like “pigs” and cut lines thinking they were better than the rest. Right after his diatribe, my friend handed me my coat. I grabbed the coat, looked at the tight t-shirt wearing cheeseball with a rage problem and said “tell me about it, pig.”

It was magical. He was stunned into silence. He did not realize that I had plagaraized my winning comment from Grease but he certainly felt the sting of those biting words. 2009 really is shaping up to be a great year. Looking forward to next Saturday - which incidentally will involve a limo ride. The possibilities are endless.

As an interesting aside, I am watching the Golden Globes and the presenter, presenting best actress in a tv movie/miniseries, introduced “the great English Spinster” and the camera zoomed in on Dame Judy Dench (not that she is a Spinster but that she played a famous one). It is both a privilege and an honor to be in your great company, Dame.