New Year Resolutions 2007.

Back in 1996 I typed out my New Year Resoutions as a contract with myself. I had sections marked with roman numerlas. Under each section heading were smaller resolutions. Some sections contained safe harbor provisions (clauses such as "as I deem appropriate" and "unless it cannot be avoided"). I began the document with, "As of January 1, 1996, I [insert full legal name] make the following resolutions." I ended the document with, "I, the undersigned [insert full legal name] do hereby agree to accept the above resolutions, and resolve to do my best to follow them."

A lawyer in the making, right?

It is in the same spirit that I decided to post some New Year Resolutions. However, I cannot think of any. I can't very well resolve to be better about going to the gym, because I know I won't be able to keep that one. Nor does it make sense to resolve not to procrastinate, since I do my best work when I procrastinate.

So it appears that I am left with no good resolutions. Or at least I'm left with no resolutions that I can reasonably post in a public forum. So if anyone has any ideas for me, be sure to let me know.

Did you fit in in high school?

There is only one criterion necessary to being my friend. I am friends only with people who did not fit in in high school.

When I went off to college, I chose the school I did for two reasons: (1) I did not have to take any math for the entire four years; and (2) the institution of higher learning was known as the "Ivy League for misfits." No one there was "normal." It was a society of nonconformists. My pink and blue hair and sixteen silver, flesh-mutilating appendages had no effect on anyone. No one looked twice at my general wardrobe choice of brown polyesther leisure suits. It was heavenly.

Now I work in an office comprised of people who didn't fit in in high school. Folks don't enter my line of work because they conform to social norms. Rather, they enter this line of work because they hate the way society is ordered these days. I was talking to a colleague of mine who was ranting and raving about how much he hated people. I asked him why he entered a profession where one must deal with people on a daily basis. I asked him why he committed himself to helping people when he hates them so much. His response encapsulated so much of what I love about what I do and what I love about the types of people I find myself around:

"I may hate people, but I hate the government more."

And that sort of comment can only come from someone who didn't fit in in high school.

Plagiarism.

Christians have been plagiarizing off of Judaisim for centuries. They get all pissy about the fact that Jews killed Jesus. But really, would they have a religion if it wasn't for Jesus being killed? They should be thanking the Jews for killing Jesus. As if all this Jews-killed-Jesus stuff wasn't bad enough, they go around taking all our ideas.

Let's look at the famed song "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," for example. He sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake. Given this description, Santa Claus could be charged with stalking. And this is someone we want coming down our chimneys? A creepy fat stalker? Then Santa Claus makes his list. He checks it twice. He's gonna know whether you've been naughty or nice.

Sound familiar? Huh? Huh?

The Jewish God was making lists long before Santa Claus ever was. "On Rosh Hashanah it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed." See, God looks down at all of us little people, and on the Jewish new year he writes down everything in his big ole Book of Life. He checks it once. Then everyone has until Yom Kippur to atone for hir or her sins. If they do a good job, God may edit what he originally wrote. Then he checks it a second time.

His list, however, is far more thorough than Santa's. It's not just about naughty and nice. Seriously, people. I mean, we all know that Christian folk stole the entire idea, but the least they could have done was get it all a little closer. You know how thorough God really is in his list making? I'll show you just how thorough.

The Gates of Repentance High Holiday prayer book (page 108) has the answer. God makes a list containing the following: How many shall pass on, how many shall come to be; who shall live and who shall die; who shall see ripe age and who shall not; who shall perish by fire and who by water; who by sword and who by beast; who by hunger and who by thirst; who by eathquake and who by plague; who by strangling and who by stoning; who shall be secure and who shall be driven; who shall be tranquil and who shall be troubled; who shall be poor and who shall be rich; who shall be humbled and who exalted.

This is some serious stuff, folks. Far more than making silly lists about naughty and nice. But much like television "journalists" merely rewrite wire stories, here we have Christians ripping off the Jews again. And they call us cheap. Hell, at least we're original.

Girlie stuff.

Rumor has it that I am, indeed, a woman. And as such, I am sometimes prone to bouts of insanely girlie stuff. Which leads me to a thought that just struck me. (Seriously. I was sitting at my computer doing something else and it just struck me.)

Do you remember the one kiss that was better than all the rest? The sort of kiss that's better than all of your sexual experiences combined? The perfect - perfect - mixture of lust and friendship and all those other wonderful things that a perfect mixture should be comprised of? Do you remember that?

I do.

Chewbacca.

When I was at training for my job, I delivered a make-believe closing argument. I hadn't really prepared for it and was less than thrilled to be presenting anything to anyone that day. At the end, my boss told me: "Your delivery was great. But you started to go a little Chewbacca on me." Chewbacca? W-what?? And then he explained the South Park episode to me.

Every now and then I'll be sitting in the lunch room at work and someone who is on trial will come in all nervous and shifty-eyed. "I've got nothing," he or she will say. "I close this afternoon and I've got nothing."

To which my boss will say, "There's always Chewbacca."

And so I uge you, dear readers, to check out the Chewbacca defense. And remember... it's only funny because it's true.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vTd77TB8ef8

Bitches.

Most of you know that I don't generally get along very well with women. They irritate me. They whine and complain about really stupid things. They like shopping. For shoes, in particular. And handbags. You know how many handbags I have? Four. You can only carry one at a time, so how many do you really need???

There are three types of women who drive me particularly crazy:

(1) Skinny girls who complain about being fat. You wanna know what's worse than being fat? My foot up your ass.

(2) Skinny girls who complain that they can't gain weight. The rest of us wish we had that problem.

(3) Girls who wear chopsticks in their hair.

Playground antics.

When it comes to interpersonal relationships, has anyone really gotten past the playground antics we used to go through when we were younger? Not so much. It still goes on. "Hey Becca," a friend will say to me. "Don't tell anyone, but Bob and I have been sleeping together. I really dig him." But of course, nearly everyone already knows the goings-on involving Bob. In fact, Bob has already told his best friend Rob, who has told me everything before my friend has even opened her mouth. Invariably, my friend will ask me, "So do you think Bob is into me or is just using me for sex?" And being the good friend I am, I will disclose (while pretending to be far less involved than I am) that Bob has told Rob that he is SO into my friend.

How is this different from the intermediaries we used to use on the playground? Remember the conversations we used to have with our girl friends when we were twelve years old? "Becca, can you ask Joe if Fred likes me?" And of course, I had my own crush on Hypothetical Joe, Hypothetical Fred's best friend -- Fred, being the object of my friend's affection.

Then there were the notes passed in class. "Do you like me? Circle YES or NO." There was always the asshole who would pen in "MAYBE" and circle that instead. As grown ups, these folks are referred to as "married men" or "commitmentphobes." But they're the same as the cheeky maybe-writing-boys.

Seriously, people. This stuff does not change as we grow older. It just gets worse.

What is this feeling?

I had a suppression hearing today. I was moving to suppress incriminating statements made by the defendant to a police officer. (To the non-lawyer types, that means that if the motion is granted, the statements he made to the police officer will not be allowed into evidence at trial.) Criminal defendants rarely ever win such motions. So guess what happened with my motion?

Did you guess?

Did you?

The judge granted my motion.

I wish I could say it was because of my brilliant advocacy. And to be honest, I wasn't half bad. My examinations of the witnesses were good, though my argument could have been better. But the prosecutor messed up just enough that my side won. How awesome is that?

Swoon.

I used to swoon over semicolons. But now I'm starting to realize that some of my favorite people are grammatically incorrect.

Come away with me.

I have an obscene amount of frequent flyer miles these days. Enough for four roundtrip tickets anywhere in the continental United States or Canada. Or enough for two roundtrip tickets to Europe. So I'm thinking I should go somewhere. But I really do hate to travel alone. And so I propose this:

Respond by posting a comment on where you and I should go, when this trip should commence, and why. If I like your idea, you win! We go away together.

Oh, one more thing. I'm totally serious.

* * *

As if that weren't enough, let me remind you one thing about flying: "What goes up, must come down. For, while the skies are friendly enough, the ground can be a mighty dangerous place when heavy objects tumble from overhead compartments."