2018: My Year in [Trump] Gifs

2018 was the year I finally got my life together (she said for the 5th year in a row). 

But I mean it this time. Mostly because there really isn't any other option.

This year, I dedicate my end-of-year gif journey to our lord and savior, Donald Trump. 

January

I have almost no memory of January, aside from spending New Years in Dallas with some of my favorite people.
Most of the month has been memory-holed because my job was the worst and I cried a lot. 🤷‍♀️

February

February got real. I quit another job, guys!
At this point, if anyone needs advice on quitting...please don't come to me because I'm still terrified of confrontation and this last experience was a whole different kind of mess.
I submitted my resignation letter fully expecting them to do the normal thing and not make me finish out the notice period. Joke was on me, though, because not only did they expect me to keep working, they also wanted me to represent the boss's wife in traffic court.
Y'all, I won't represent myself in traffic court. My legal* advice: own up to being a bad driver, pay the damn fine and move on.
Fortunately, I immediately got a terrible case of the flu and told them that I wouldn't be able to come in for about...two weeks. Wiggled myself out of that one, right?
NOPE. Lawyers are the worst and there is no leaving on your own terms. This law firm was Hotel California.
In a wholly unsurprising move, they immediately threatened legal action against me.

It took a full week of insincere apologies (combined with refusals to back down), explanations of Texas employment law (lawyers love when you explain the law to them), and even texting a picture of my thermometer before they stopped emailing me.

I started a new job as soon as I escaped from the grips of fever, and haven't looked back since.

*By "legal" I mean "completely casual, not at all legal." I am not your lawyer. You are not paying me. You're an adult and traffic court is dumb; make your own decisions.

March-April

A blur. At this point, Tyler was still in school and I was working nonstop.
I'm fairly certain March and April just didn't happen.

May

Tyler graduated! I took an elbow to the head at a Papa Roach concert! Tyler started bar prep.
May was a rollercoaster.

June

In this hottest of times in the hottest of swamps, THE A/C IN MY CAR STOPPED WORKING.
This was a month of thirst.
So I parked her in the Third Ward and set her on fire.
Except in reality, I parked her in my garage and went to Louisiana with my parents for a bit.
(If you've ever considered going to Walker Percy Weekend in St. Francisville, do it! Bourbon for dayz.)

July

Tyler took the bar exam and I experienced a tremendous amount of PTSD.
We both need(ed) emotional therapy dogs.

August-September

Is this how life works? Months just disappear because nothing of note happened?
Do I have a Swiss cheese brain?
Or did I accidentally eat too many Tide pods?
(Remember that that was a thing?? 2018 was a wild ride.)

October

Tyler got a (very impressive and will keep me in the lifestyle to which I've become accustomed) job! And passed the bar!
We fancy dined! We drank! We treated ourselves!
And then we took a three day nap that was two years overdue.

November

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

I am proud to announce my latest collection entitled "Ring in Front of Christmas Decorations."
(But really, girlfriend looks good in red, am I right?)

December

Engaged, the perfect job, and (mom's old) Lexus? I AM THRIVING.

A few questions I've asked in the 4+ weeks since getting engaged:
Are live peacocks too extra?
Where did Kanye get that giant flower wall?
How long was Priyanka's train and, hypothetically and totally unrelated, how long is the aisle at the cathedral?
I wonder what Donald and Melania are doing next fall?

Gird your loins, people.

A certain grumpy, no fun fiance who shall remain nameless has banned the words "bling" and "glitter" from our wedding lexicon, but luckily ya girl is an actual walking thesaurus so there will be plenty of *ahem* sparkle. (Suck it, Tyler.)

Wedding Motto: WWM(elania/Mariah)D?

We have a date, a church, and a reception venue. I'm basically done, right?
I've gone full-on Type A on this wedding planning and partially created at least 4 wedding websites because I am an actually insane person.
(In my defense, while there is [a lot of] overlap, each website offers different features and designs
AND THIS IS MY WEDDING SO BACK THE HELL UP IF YOU WANT AN INVITE.)

Honorary December gif:

100 pounds, Your Majesty. IT'S WEDDING SEASON. 

Happy New Year!

Dante's Heck

Public Swagger Announcement: I took an elbow to the head at a Papa Roach concert at the beginning of the summer. If you would like to take a second to imagine me at a Papa Roach concert, I understand.

Let's blame the possible resultant concussion for my long absence this summer.
(Also Sweet T was bar prepping and needed my unwavering attention, obvi.)
I was inspired by that near-death experience, though.
For much of the concert, I was (a) behind a large girl with waist-length dreads which whipped against me as she headbanged, and (b) next to a very drunk older gentleman who ended up resting most of his weight against me as he listed dramatically to the left, our main point of contact being his armpit against my shoulder.
And then someone dropped 'bows on me, as Luda would say.
It was my own personal Heck. Not full-on Hell because I was still having a good time and I'd like to think I'm not a bad person who deserves Hell. But Heck. Definitely Heck.

Dante's Diamine 

(or something. I took 2 seconds to Google Translate "heck" into Italian.)

For reference, here's the "real" version. Like mine isn't real. 

1st Circle: Limbo >> That Autistic Co-Worker

"Could y'all act normal literally one time? One single time. Please."

Everyone has that autistic co-worker who makes you realize how normal and socially competent you are.

But, I promise you, mine is worse. 

I probably shouldn't share too much while we still work together, but oh, the stories I have.

My other co-workers and I call these stories the "'Berger Chronicles" and maybe someday

I will be far enough removed from this individual as to write about her. Because the stories are a-plenty. I am a frequent "secondhand embarrassment" sufferer, and listening to her attempts at socialization makes my teeth itch and gives me the stress sweats.

Obviously, it would be a slight breach of social niceties (not that she would know) to just come out and ask if her she shares any similarities with Rain Man, so her status on the spectrum is undetermined. 

However, she's caught me on a good day, so I've erred on the side of autism and she lands merely in Heck Limbo.

Potential mental deficiency is a mitigating factor, for future reference.

Eternal Punishment: Having to make small talk, forever.

2nd Circle: Lust >> Cringey Couples on Social Media

Facebook is for event invitations, photos via Instagram, and the occasional witty status. 

Not for couples to near-pornographically emote all over each other.

Public declarations of love are for chick flicks and wealthy people.

I may be (only slightly) exaggerating but this modern version of PDA is absolutely horrific. 

Names and images have been redacted to save them the embarrassment.

My face involuntarily drops into Grumpy Cat upon reading this sort of drivel. 

Please do not take my intense disapproval as jealousy or bitterness. Far from it. 

I just subscribe to that old-fashioned notion that any and all public declarations of love should be communicated via the construction of a large, beautiful building in my honor. 

A small enough unit of time does not exist to describe how quickly I would initiate the break-up conversation if my significant other gushed all over social media.
I'll allow the occasional post praising your main squeeze for being a wonderful human, or acting a certain way, or achieving something great; a missive directed specifically to your main squeeze on a public forum and consisting of overly sentimental schmutz? Nah. 

Do you not have texting? Slide into his DMs with that nonsense, girlfriend.

Eternal Punishment: Flip phone and Bing, in perpetuity. Also your right hand is constantly asleep. Try posting that bunk with outdated technology and a gimpy hand.

3rd Circle: Gluttony >> Freeloader Co-Workers

Treats, treats everywhere, but not a crumb to eat. 

Co-workers seem to be taking the brunt of my ire, but deservedly so. 

A friend of mine works with a woman who takes far more than her fair share of the office snacks and goodies brought in by co-workers, without even waiting until the end of the day to make sure everyone got something. She immediately grabs multiple plates of food, while loudly proclaiming (as justification) that she's taking it home for her kids.

The rightful assumption is that office food is consumed by office people. 

Not their extended family and friends who contribute nothing to the office. 

The company is not a welfare state.

Also in this circle: co-workers who, while eating your slaved-over food, request that you bake different treats the next time you oh-so-generously decide to bring in treats for the office.

Eternal Punishment: Every single meal, looking forward to the food brought, only to discover that someone else already ate it.

4th Circle: Avarice & Prodigality >> Financially-Irresponsible Millenials

Do you even need that rock? Just put the rock down. You can't afford rocks that big.

Y'all make me nervous.

I see your Monday through Thursday posts.
You had to forego guac at Chipotle, but there your ass goes to Ibiza.
Y'all go hard on trips, clothes, and going out, but live in a constant state of near-overdraft.
It is my sincere hope that the entire system collapses before my hyper-responsible self is having to support an entire generation of morons into retirement.
Find Jesus. Or at least Dave Ramsey.

Eternal Punishment: Perpetual surge on Uber. Not that you care.

5th Circle: Wrath & Sullenness >> Maybe Me? But Also the Weekly Ted Cruz Protesters

"You know what I have in my hands, Barbara? Your generation's contributions to society.
Get it, Barbara? Do you get it? They're empty. My hands are empty, Barbara."

I know I've mentioned them before, but they get more annoying by the week.
They add new chants based on current events, but each chant is worse than the one before.
A bunch of post-menopausal baby boomers (and one male baby boomer! #equality) yelling about "my body, my choice?"
Nah, girl. It may be your body, but the decision was made by the jackboot of time stomping out all of your viable eggs.
"Hey, hey, NRA, how many kids died today?"
None. None is the answer, Judy. Now go home and die with whatever dignity you have left.

(Hint: the answer there is also "none." None dignity.)

Ted Cruz is literally never in this office. He cannot hear you, and he does not care.
But I can hear you. And I certainly care.
I care so very much that I will now make an effort to vote for Ted Cruz, just to spite you.

Eternal Punishment: Living forever in the socialist "paradise" of their dreams. Have fun starving for eternity, hippies.

6th Circle: Heresy >> Baby Boomer Priests

Two baby boomer condemnations in a row? They deserve it.
Maybe the outbreak of Church scandals lately has me lashing out,
but I am SO. TIRED. of hippy dippy priests.
Please stop beginning your homily with a joke.
Please stop treating Mass like you're hosting your own personal game show.
Please stop acting like the dad on a sitcom, and act like the Father of your parish.
"Feel-good" homilies may keep butts in seats, but you aren't leading anyone to heaven.
In fact, your behavior is probably hurting my chances of getting into heaven,
because God probably disapproves of my eye-rolling and open grimaces.
HELP A SISTER OUT AND QUIT BEING SUCH AN IDIOT.

Eternal Punishment: The worst hymn known to man, "Lord of the Dance," on repeat, and off pitch (in true Catholic style).

7th Circle: Violence

Against Neighbor >> Bad Drivers

"Ahoy, friend! I'm about to absolutely desecrate the rules of the road, and then blame you. Gird your loins!"

Last night, I told Tyler of my intention to stop cursing so much and requested his help in doing so.
He hesitated, then asked if that included cursing when driving.
Rude. Fair, but rude.
Houston driving is absurd. Houston drivers are a crime against nature.
My mom can tell exactly where I am in my commute (I call her on my way home every day, duh) by the quality/quantity of outrage being ever-so-politely communicated to my fellow drivers.
There is one particular roundabout that just seems to confound the entire population of Houston.
Once, the person rounding about in front of me got halfway around, appeared to panic at the idea of completing the mission successfully, and came to a dead stop in the middle lane.
You will be relieved to hear that they turned their hazards on, lest someone fail to appreciate the cluster they were creating during commuter traffic.

Eternal Punishment: Never being able to get around the car in front of you going 10 under the speed limit.

Against Self >> Feminists

"The fact that we are wood is problematic. #metoo"

All talk of the wage gap, glass ceilings, tilted floors, and #metoo makes me want to grab a shard of that already-shattered glass ceiling and jam it straight into my temple. 

There's a special place in Heck for women who insist on perpetuating this lie that only harms other women.

Also in this circle: Women who quote Ruth Bader Ginsberg.

Eternal Punishment: The only things on TV are a loop of your most embarrassing moments and Amy Schumer stand-up.

Against God >> Bad Church Singers

So flat, the notes hit you like bricks. So sharp, they puncture your very soul.
At the same time? Yes.

I understand that I am full-on Screwtape-ing myself right now, but here we are. 

I have sat in the vicinity of the same bad singer 3 Sundays in a row now, so the wound is fresh.
He doesn't change pitch. Like...the music does. The rest of the congregation does. He...does not.
Mind you, this is not chant. The pitch is supposed to change.
And he is quite loud and proud about his tunelessness.
You kind of have to admire his perseverance in the face of such affliction.
I mean that in the figurative "you" because I definitely don't admire it.
He who sings, prays twice, but maybe he can pray twice as quietly in the future.

Eternal Punishment: Every time you talk, you can actually hear yourself. Like you're listening to yourself via recording and you can't believe you actually sound like that, except...live.

8th Circle: Fraud
(I'm Just Going to Pick a Few Categories, Because Dante Was WORDY and I am Le Tired)

Panders & Seducers >> Multi-Level Marketing Morons

Your phone buzzes with a new notification. 

A friend from high school you haven't spoken to in years?
You open up Facebook, only to see "Hey girl! How have you been?? Random question. Are you interested in making a little (or a LOT lol) money on the side while meeting fabulous like-minded GIRL BOSSES??"

You think I don't see through your nickname-instead-of-real-name-to-generate-closeness-but-also-make-it-easier-to-copy-and-paste trick?
Look, I get what you're going for: a fun side hustle to earn a little spending money. Got it.
But please, for the love of God, complete said hustle without cluttering up my inbox and making things weird.
I don't want to be mean to your sweet essential oil dabbed, botanic & organic lotioned, waterproof lip colored face, but if you use me to make a buck, you are forcing my hand.
I see your posts.
1. If I want your shit, I will come to you.
2. I make decent money. At this stage in my life, drinking wine is my side hustle.
Leave me in peace.

Eternal Punishment: Forever juuuuust missing the qualifying mark for the company's prized cruise/trip/car/etc. reserved for top sellers. Sucks to suck.

Flatterers >> Girls Who Overuse "I Love You"

"I only love my bed and my momma lol but also you.
...Now say it back. Please?"

Girl, no you don't. Or if you really do: who hurt you?
Why are you the way that you are?
This blog is really not equipped to handle daddy issues, so we'll leave that one where it is.
Just know that your overuse of "I love you" makes me feel so damn awkward and feels like an attempt to undermine the love I actually feel for...ya know...my loved ones.
GET A PUPPY AND LEARN HOW TO CHANNEL YOUR EMOTIONS.

Eternal Punishment: Constant fear of never finding love. Oh, wait. That's already a thing for these girls. Whatever.

Simonists
Guys, I don't even know.
This one is very very specific and I am very very tired.
LET ME BE.

Thieves >> Lying Panhandlers, But Mostly That Man Who Dipped His Squeegee Into a Puddle on the Street and Then Used it to Clean My Windshield Despite My Saying No Repeatedly

"And Satan’s army[, armed with squeegees] marched across the earth and gathered around the camp
of God’s people and the city God loves. But fire came down from heaven and burned them up." Rev. 20:9

This one may be a tad personal.
Y'all. THE HOMELESS MAN DIPPED HIS SQUEEGEE INTO A PUDDLE ON THE STREET TO CLEAN MY WINDSHIELD, AND THEN GOT MAD WHEN I WOULDN'T PAY HIM.

My car was dirtier than when he started.
I should have taken money from him for the car wash I now need.

Also in this circle: gypsies. They aren't nearly as entertaining as TLC makes them seem to be.

Eternal Punishment: I feel bad even pretending to condemn homeless people to Heck. I'M TRYING TO BE A NICER PERSON, DANGIT. But I feel no such way about gypsies. Gypsies get sand, like you've been at the beach all day and washed off using that fun outdoor shower but you just keep finding sand everywhere. This has nothing really to do with their sins, but it's still awful.

Sowers of Discord >> People Who Make That Disgusting Throat-Clearing Noise in Public

"THIS IS WHERE THE NOISE COMES FROM. SEE? DO YOU SEE IT?"

Could ya not?
I understand that cloggy throat feeling. We've all been there.
TAKE SOME CLARITIN.
Did you not have a mother to teach you manners? Were you raised by wolves?
That is actually an insult to wolves because even they don't make that noise.
Subjecting people to that noise is honestly probably a violation of the Eighth Amendment.
Play that noise on loop for a few hours and I would give up some national secrets.
That noise makes my spine tingle in the worst way.
I'm fairly certain a good waterboarding session would clear the ole sinuses right up.
I volunteer to help.

Eternal Punishment: That feeling of about-to-sneeze, forever.

Falsifiers >> People Who Lie About Pointless Stuff

Lying appears to be absolutely exhausting.

I know a girl who swears up and down that she barely studied for the bar and drank margaritas every night of bar prep.
Except when we've talked in person about it, she tells me that she studied a ton and was panic-stricken.
Another she-who-must-not-be-named spoke about how she had stopped drinking for a little while.
Yet an hour later, when a different person arrived into the conversation and told us how hungover he was, she said "samesies" and regaled us with how much wine she'd had.

What are we even doing here.
At least be consistent with your crazy.

Eternal Punishment: You have to do a puzzle every day, but the final piece never fits. BECAUSE IT DOESN'T ACTUALLY BELONG, BUT IT'S LYING TO YOU.

9th Circle: Treachery >> Old People on Facebook

Oh, you feel like you're drowning in all the new technology? Good. 

My reasoning for having this under "treachery": 

1. It didn't fit anywhere else, and

2. Your mind/body betray you in your twilight years and make you a bumbling fool?

Idk. Just go with it. 

Old people on Facebook will be the death of me someday. 

But also the death of them because they will probably commit a social media faux paus so egregious that I will be driven to murder-suicide.

Example 1:

You aren't supposed to get it, Karen. Get off Facebook and go ruin another economy.
Example 2:

YOU CAN'T ASK THAT, LINDA.
I blocked the picture in order to protect some sweet souls, but it's a photo of an adorable couple who have been dating a normal amount of time.
They handled the question MUCH more diplomatically than I would have.
My response would have involved cursing, unfriending, and a blood oath to not invite that awful person to the potential wedding. Also maybe breaking up just to spite Linda.
I run a scorched earth campaign, at all times.

Just...stop, old people. Stop doing all the things. Quit trying to keep up.
Decompose gracefully, like our forefathers.

Eternal Punishment: Getting old is punishment enough. Old people are the worst.


So, in summation: baby boomers and co-workers can all go to Heck.

[This blog post is dedicated to my sweet Beatrice with the Sylvester Pussy Cat tattoo who gently guided me away from the drunk careening man.]

Update (because you all were dying to know): In regards to my WSJ Wine, I went with the mixed case of red and white wine, which I'm really enjoying because I'm able to pound a glass of Chard when I get home from the gym for rehydration purposes. It also gives me something to sip in the car on the way to pick up the kids from school. Because white wine is water and I am a soccer mom.
(Just kidding, please don't disbar me. I mostly totally have respect for the laws, even the stupid ones like taxation and eminent domain.)

Post-Grad Lyfe, A to Zed: Law Lyfe Edition II

It was my hope to finish this one LAST weekend, but I found myself engaged in a Helm's Deep meets Battle of the Bastards struggle with a cockroach the size of a Maine coon.
Two glasses of wine Mary did not want to deal with it, so I spent five minutes refusing to leave the room,
and then five more minutes psyching myself up and arming myself (a towel I was hoping would have some sort of
cat o' nine tails effect; motorcycle boots to lessen the crunching sensation as I stamped out its life;
and hairspray because the bug poison was in the kitchen, which my opponent had claimed as its stronghold.)

When I charged onto the battlefield after those oh-so-necessary ten minutes, the enemy was nowhere to be found.
Being the battle-hardened and skilled strategist that I am, I quickly implemented the ole "Turn into a Statue so as to Not Frighten the Bug" tactic.
Upon sensing motion on the wall to my left, I turned, pointed, and yelled "YOU!" in an accusatory manner.
Because I am a Scooby Doo villain.

Oddly, my weapons were insufficient, and so I admitted defeat, retreated to my bedroom, barricaded myself in via towels stuffed under the doors, and went to sleep.
I spent the next day unable to focus on anything but the simplest of tasks, as I imagined cat-sized cockroaches were lurking behind every corner.

Kafka would have much to say about this, I'm sure.


If you managed to stay with me through that rousing war story, we'll now round out this edition of Post-Grad Lyfe, A to Zed:

Moderation
Of which I have none. I am really trying to put money into savings and whatnot,
but there are just too many pretty things to buy.
IT'S NOT MY FAULT.

My apartment complex is probably going to start demanding payment for every package of mine that they have to sign for. It would be fairly lucrative for them.

Nonsense
Of which I put up with a lot.
Most of my co-workers at this current job are great, provided we discuss nothing of importance.
Once we enter the realm of politics or religion or values, it's an SJW paradise and I'm in my own personal hell.
I got into an actual argument with a co-worker because he said he "feels" that golden retrievers are racist.
Because feelings = facts. He also claimed that there are more golden retriever attacks than pit bull attacks per year.

This must be the sort of "attack" he's talking about.

This was quickly becoming a very, very thinly-veiled race conversation, and I'm fairly certain that the blinding whiteness of my skin is actually offensive in and of itself to certain people, so I took my leave of the entire discussion.

In another conversation, he compared a violent cult to the pilgrims and to religion in general (saying that there is no difference, really), then regurgitated that tired, false "Christopher Columbus knowingly killed all the Natives" narrative, then claimed that anti-Semitism and nationalism are the same thing. It was a doozy.
The running joke at work is how "judgey" I am. Like, duh. But tell me how that's a bad thing.
I wear my judgment like a badge of honor.

Overtime...doesn't exist
At my prior Job-That-Must-Not-Be-Named, I was a salaried employee.
Meaning, I got paid the same amount regardless of the number of hours I worked.
At first, that was fine. But then. BUT THEN.
I started to lose my weekends. I was asked to come in very very early and stay very very late.
For the same amount of money.

I had no time for friends, the gym, a personal life, anything.
I would have been (relatively) fine with this if there was any sort of upward mobility.
But it was made very clear to me that there was no chance of ever making partner and any sort of raise would be in the distant future.
Not my jam.

Professionalism
That word should really be in quotations. Lawyers are absurd.
There is an obsession with professionalism, and ethics, and reputation,
except that obsession is quickly pushed aside in favor of snarky tone, disrespectful words, and outright name-calling.

Hypocrites, all of them us, I guess.
There are all sorts of unwritten rules you're supposed to follow, but few of them make sense to me, and I can never get any justification other than "that's just how it is."
An appeal to tradition is right up my alley, but only if it works.
Law school sucks, lawyers suck, the legal field sucks. Let's maybe change something?

Qualifications
I went to law school. While there, I worked various jobs and internships in the legal field the majority of the time.
Then I graduated from law school.

You'd think this would make me qualified for something, right?
Lol.
Always and forever struggling with that whole "need experience to get experience" conundrum.

Relationships
I see my family once every few months. And then just for a whirlwind couple of days.
I see my boyfriend once a week (twice if I'm lucky).
I would get a dog, but that relationship would likely be neglected too.
JOBS ARE THE WORST.

Sisyphean tasks
I sort through file materials.
I chain title.
I identify problems.
I write a title opinion.
Done? Start all over again with another file.
But change the specific tasks and that is just every job.
We are all cogs in a machine. Accept it.

Taaaaaaaxes
I've mentioned it before, but I'm in a contract position which means my taxes aren't withheld from each paycheck.
I understand that this doesn't mean I'm paying any more in taxes.
But it does mean that I have to personally witness and ACTIVELY PARTICIPATE in the withholding of said taxes myself.
I am fully complicit in the government's THEFT of my rightfully earned wages.

Unwanted solicitations
Before being barred, unwanted solicitations used to be telemarketers and guys at bars.
Now, I get asked legal advice from people I haven't spoken to in years.

The least you can do is buy ya girl a bottle of wine for that free lawyer ish.
(Disclaimer: Any advice given is for informational purposes only and not for the purpose of providing legal advice and also might be a huge joke. You should contact a real grown-up attorney to obtain advice with respect to any particular issue or problem, because I am but a baby attorney. Actions taken in accordance with said advice does not create an attorney-client relationship. You are taking your own life in your hands by listening to and/or taking any advice. You are on your own. I will deny even knowing you.)

Vanilla
My life. I do nothing risky whatsoever.
I put more aside for taxes than is necessary, so *fingers crossed* I get some back later.
I got very excited about a shelf to put in my closet for shoe organization.
I'm considering switching my wine shipment from all red to half red, half white for the summer.

The craziest thing I've done recently is rabbit-hole pretty hard on Unabomber research.
Also I yelled at someone in traffic the other day, which actually is high risk behavior in Houston.
Also I bought romaine lettuce the other day.
So I guess you could say I really do live a little dangerously.

Wake-up Call
This is real life. 
I'm not an intern or clerk anymore.
Yes, my work is still approved by a supervising attorney, but this feels more serious.
I know it inspires confidence when one's attorney forgets that she's a real attorney.
Shut up.

EXclusivity (X is difficult. Give this one to me.)
Lawyers like to pretend that this is an elite field.
Except I witnessed the actual meltdown of an attorney via rant on an oh-so-exclusive lawyer FB group (bar number, SSN, and blood of your first born required for membership) in which she mentioned being a stripper before law school
and used language surely not allowed in a courtroom.

Clearly, the legal field has flung open its doors to all sorts of gutter trash.
You can take the girl out of the strip club...

Your Honor ... is really hard to remember
I don't go to court. I never want to go to court. For so many reasons.
One reason being that it is a certainty that I will screw up the courtroom decorum.
Combine anxiety with a complete disdain for most of the pointless legal conventions, and you get me accidentally calling the judge "Your Majesty."

Ziprecruiter
I have a job. As mentioned, I'm a contract attorney, so that job has an end date.
As such, I have become well-acquainted with Ziprecruiter and all of the other job search sites.
They are the death of me, but I just keep coming back.