Kate Middleton for the Win

Evidence: He's totally into it. She's so tense it's awkward. Matt Dunham/AP

After looking at the pictures of the royal wedding this morning, I have three things to say:

1.  Thank you, NY Times, for putting actual news on your front page.

2. Well done, Sarah Burton.  Seriously, that dress is amazing.  The lace sleeves, the perfect neckline, the unbelievable train.  A gorgeous, classic, elegant, stunning gown.  I was absolutely speechless.  Also, Pippa looked hot.  She’ll be married to a Duke by August.

3.  The pictures showed two very obvious things:  Kate looked very smug.  William looked very, very happy.

And let’s face it. That’s the way it should be.

The problem with the last royal wedding (and probably several hundred before that) is that the new princess had no idea what she was getting into and the prince really wanted to be married to someone else.  It was a match made in hell and we all know how that played out.

But not this one.  Kate not only knows what she’s getting into, she’s been working her ass off for it for her entire life.  After all, they’ve been calling her a princess-in-waiting since long before she met Wills and in an accent-conscious country like England, Kate’s accent has always been just a little bit posher than the actual prince’s. She wanted this, and she was willing to put her life on hold to get it.  Scratch that, she didn’t put her life on hold.  This is her life.  Some girls go to grad school.  She’s been at princess camp for 27 years.  At the same time, William is marrying a beautiful, perfectly princess-like girl with perfect hair who he seems to be absolutely mad about.  Good for him.  He seems to be the farthest thing from the cheating type and she would never do anything to risk the crown she worked so hard for.

He really, really loves her.

She really, really, really loves being famous.

This is a match made in heaven.  I think it could work.  I think it will work.

Kate Middleton.  #winning

AGinDC

Blind Faith or Why I Have to Believe that Obama Has a Plan That He Just Isn’t Telling Us About

Well, he did it.  He caved.  He begged the Hawaiian government and they finally released his original birth certificate.  And, as expected, it didn’t shut anybody up.  If anything, it gave the crazies the confidence they needed to keep going.  It’s like the school bully.  Once you give him your lunch money, he’s going to keep going back for more.  And the President has to know this.  He’s not an idiot.  Somewhere in the White House, FLOTUS has his balls locked up in a case for special occasions.  And even though the last two years have been clear and present proof that nobody behind the gates has any idea what they’re doing, they’ve still managed to do more than any other president at this point (how terrifying is that?).  So stupidity, ball-lessness and incompetence are probably not the answers.

So why did he do it?

Honestly, in my heart of hearts I hope this was the smartest move for 2012 ever.  Just like I’m convinced that the Republican governors, Michele Bachmann and Paul Ryan are on the DNC’s payroll (there can’t be any other excuse for how effectively they’re driving people towards the left in hordes), I really think this may have been the smartest campaign move ever.

Think about it.

First of all, it separates the wheat from the chaff.

From the “birther laws” taking up time and money in state legislatures to the moment that an idiotic CNN “journalist” had the gall to bring up the birther question in the White House press room, it was clear that something needed to happen.  Releasing the birth certificate confirms the obvious for anyone wavering on the edge and clearly demonstrates just how crazy the crazies really are.  Anyone in the middle who had been swayed by the massive media indulgence of the racially charged accusation that the President wasn’t born in America can now be mollified and move on.  And anyone who is reaching into the back-burner of conspiracy theories to continue to attempt to de-legitimize the first black President can be exposed for exactly what they are.

Second, it shows exactly the kind of man Trump is.

The greatest accomplishment of the ’08 election is how totally and completely we obliterated the Republican party.  It was obvious when they chose Michael Steele as the head of the RNC.  Then it got a little less obvious with the rise of the Tea Party.  But now that 2012 is up for grabs, it is reeeaalllyyy obvious that we kicked their asses and they’ve got nothing.  If ever you needed a reason to send President Bush some flowers, this is it.

The result of said obliteration is that the only serious candidate for the GOP nomination right now is the personification of beige and wears secret magical underwear to boot.

Enter: Trump.

The man, the mystery, and the joke entered the scene at the most opportune time (that is his one and only gift) and re-lit the birther fire like only The Donald can.  But the best part is that this has less to do with Trump himself than this is a reflection of where the GOP is right now.  The fact that he’s even in the polls (the numbers themselves don’t matter right now, it’s too early), the fact that not only are Republicans (and Faux News) taking him seriously right now but that real, serious Republicans (read: Boehner) aren’t immediately discrediting him (and Bachmann and Palin and Cain- my other favorite- and every other crazy, racist, dingbat in the race) is exactly what we need Independents to see.  The fact that this is even tolerable for the GOP will be enough to send anyone with even an ounce of common sense running to the other side.

Third,the best defense is a good offense.

Between the union busting, the Michigan fiasco, the attempts to destroy voting rights, the Ryan budget of death and sadness and the Birther talk, the GOP is all over the headlines and for all of the wrong reasons.

Seriously, who knows what the F the Dems are up to lately?  This can only be good.

I may update this later with more reasons that releasing the birth certificate was a good thing.  I know it’s a bit of a reach, but I really do have to believe that the President has some semblance of a strategy and isn’t just caving to the likes of Trump and Orly Taitz.  I have to believe it.

Of course, I believe in unicorns too… anyone seen one lately?

AGinDC

*UPDATE*  Or, maybe he knew he was about to kill Osama and he wanted to give haters the whoopass they deserved.  #I’mjustsaying

Sushi Happy Hour!

Yesterday after work some of the younger people in the firm had happy hour at our local sushi place, which is conveniently just downstairs.  I really like the sushi at Sushi AOI and their drinks are actually really good and very strong.  After work there was nothing better than enjoying a couple of glasses of wine (the only alcohol I’m allowed on this blasted diet) with California and spicy tuna rolls. The fried veggie dumplings were delicious too but I wasn’t brave enough to try the hot dog tempura.  No thank you.

As usual though, the best part of the happy hour wasn’t the food or drink but the company.  And I was super excited because one of the people I met is a TFA DC corps member!  She’s in her first year and I was so excited to meet her.  Poor kid.  I know what she’s going through.  I would have bought her a drink but she was 1/4 of the way into a pitcher before we even met.  Teachers and lawyers… is it any wonder that I’m an alcoholic?  Anyways, I was really happy to meet her.  I also met someone who lives in my building, on my floor.  I swear that apartment is the most popular place in Washington!

Speaking of the apartment, my roommate told me on Tuesday night that she’s moving out.  I immediately emailed all of my friends asking if they know anyone who’s looking for a place.  Well, Lisa did and she sent an email to her friend Underwood.  Underwood came by last night and loved the place and I loved her!  So, hopefully all will go well with the apartment app and I’ll have a new roommate!  I think my favorite thing about DC is that there are always so many people moving around that it’s never hard to find a new roommate.  Well, I say that now… but let’s wait until this process totally goes through before I get too cocky.  But I’m very excited.  For one thing, Underwood is not a lawyer, she’s a nurse!  Awesome, right?  Even better, she’s a nurse who works in policy, which means no blood in the house!  Woohoo!  Best of both worlds, totally.  Anyways, we’ll see.  I’ll keep you posted.

This has been a hodgepodge of a blog post… sorry about that.  I’m also gchatting with three people, working and listening to the Nerdist podcast while I write this.  And I really wanted to write about Birthergate but I think I need to get my thoughts together first and it’s too early in the morning for that.

So that’s all.  Ciao.

AGinDC

A Dangerous Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

When I was 15 I was one of maybe three black girls in my high school of 2,000.  The wealthy, white Seattle suburb was a great place to go to school and raise your kids, if you lived in a gated community and weren’t concerned with the values of diversity.  Sadly, we didn’t and we were.  But the public schools were phenomenal and we couldn’t afford private education, so we stayed.  Which meant that I came of age in a school and a community that didn’t value me as a girl.  As an academic superstar, yes.  As an athlete, definitely.  As a member of the dance team, a student chosen for special groups and committees and a valued member of the arts community, sure.  Even as a leader I was part of the “chosen” group.  But as a girl?  No.  I was friends with everyone, an active member of the community and tracked in the AP classes with the rest of my group.  I always had someone to eat lunch with in the cafeteria.  But I didn’t have a chance at being voted the Daffodil Princess (who had been white since 1845), I would never be Homecoming Queen, and I always went to the high school dances that I helped plan, decorate, and clean up after, alone.  I never got asked out on dates and was perpetually single until I was finally wooed (yes, he was sort of an old-fashioned romantic and actually wooed) in my junior year.  And I dated him for most of that year and part of the next (his parents, after commenting that he had a black friend in the first grade too! moved him out of state for his senior year of high school).  It ended tragically, as these things do, and I wasn’t asked on a date again until college.  Late in college but that was more the fault of having attended a women’s college in the middle of nowhere than anything else.

If I had paid attention I would have seen that my best friend who was too tall for her age was also always single.  I would have seen that my best friend who was a little on the chubby side was always single too.  I would have even seen that the thinnest, blondest, prettiest party girls pretty much only dated the same round of guys over and over again.  But, I didn’t.  Just like every teenage girl I chose the most obvious baggage and held onto it like a vintage Louis V valise with a matching train case.  And what was my baggage?  Well, like I said, I was one of 3 black girls in a school of 2,000.

To be fair, there was a lot of racism at my school (so much that I wrote a play about it in college) and I definitely had to face my share of f*d up sh*t along the way.  But when I picked up The Bluest Eye in high school I read it in a way that reinforced my way of thinking: everyone hates me because I don’t have blue eyes and I will always be sad and alone because of it.

Where did I get this idea from?  Well, church to start.  That haven of bitter, middle-aged black women too busy dressing up for the pastor to recognize that they’re the ones who are ruining their own lives love nothing more than to destroy a young girl’s Cinderella dreams (this was before Princess Tiana) before they buy their first pair of kitten heels.  My family also had a lot to do with it.  My mother’s side is all female and we come from a long line of divorce and premature death that has left us bitter and discouraged.  My aunt used to tell me that there was a curse on the women in our family and as a wide-eyed seven year old, of course I believed her.  And the media didn’t help.  Everywhere I looked (this was pre-Tyra, pre-Obama, pre-Vogue Italia) there were pictures of beautiful women who looked absolutely nothing like me.  The 80s were a scary place for a little black girl, and by the time I reached high school I already knew that I could be a lot of things, but pretty and loved were not one of them.

Eventually (in law school), I met DH, who patiently counseled me for two years on where all of my thinking on the subject had gone wrong.  He showed me that all  of the negative thoughts from all of those years had built up such a wall that by the time I walked into a room it was obvious what I was thinking, even before I said a word.  He made me realize that black women have turned a small (but yes, existing) barrier into a brick wall so thick that no one can climb it.  We have already decided that we will never find love and so we don’t.  We’re doing it to ourselves.

Now, this isn’t to trivialize the numbers game.  As a girl who went to law school with 13 black women and 3 black men, only one of whom was straight, believe me, I know.  But the thing is that the numbers aren’t as bad as we think (a), that (b), we make the numbers a little worse when we drive people away with our own negativity, and that (c), if we’re going to be single we have a choice between being happy and fulfilled in our lives or becoming those bitter, awful old church women.

I wrote this post because, as usual, another round of why-black-women-are-single-and-pathetic-and-going-to-die-alone articles is flying around inboxes.  And I have to admit that this argument sounds just a little trite in a post-Obama America.  Right now the most revered and idolized woman in America is the black wife of a black man with black children.  We finally have a black Disney princess who works hard to get what she wants out of life at the same time that a real princess is getting crowned on Friday who couldn’t be more of a throwback to the fifties if she was vacuuming in glass slippers.  At the same time that Kate was literally sleeping her 20s away, waiting for a prince to bring her to life, black women have been taking over the country, and the world.  We’re on runways, in magazines, on television, in academia and running the White House (if anyone doesn’t think Valerie Jarrett runs the White House, you haven’t been paying attention).  As a black woman, I have never felt more confident, capable, beautiful or affirmed.  And with all of the young black men out there “looking for their Michelle”, I see black relationships everywhere (especially in DC).  Of course, I am still single.  Very much so.  But I absolutely love my life, love where my career is going, and love my vibrator (JimmyJane ladies).  And I don’t feel bitter or unattractive or unloved and I don’t blame it all on being a black woman.

After my two years with DH I re-read The Bluest Eye and I finally understood.  Pecola Breedlove wasn’t sad and alone because she was black.  She had a lot of problems in her life, a lot to overcome, and a lot to get through.  But instead of seeing her life for what it was and finding the best way to overcome the obstacles, she got stuck on the (fake) Shirley Temple image and rode that train to her own destruction.

We need to recognize that the obstacles in our way, while unfair, exist to be overcome.  That we deserve to be happy, successful, and loved.  And that we are the only ones in the way of our own happiness.  And we have to believe it now, before another generation of Pecola Breedloves are destroyed by myths of their own making.

AGinDC

Another weekend gone

Lots of new places this weekend, as well as a new favorite.  Here’s the list:

1.  L’Enfant Cafe in Dupont Cirle-

Amazing white truffle mac and cheese.  Delicious crepes (I had the coconut rum and toasted coconut), the burgers looked amazing, the beer is Belgian and frothy cold, the staff is friendly and adorable.  I lived around the corner from this place for six months and never went.  I’m seriously regretting that now.

2.  Zengo in Chinatown-

I had never been here before but I really liked it.  We met for drinks before Water for Elephants and I can’t wait to come back here to eat.  The sushi looked amazing, the edmame was delicious, and I was totally digging the atmosphere.  You would never expect a place this nice next to the metro and an Urban Outfitters but here it is.  Love.

3.  Water for Elephants–

My book  club read this book last month so we decided to see the movie on Friday.  I wasn’t expecting much, I never understood the appeal of Vampire Guy and Reese Witherspoon looked like his mom in the previews.  Wow was I wrong.  First of all, costume designer Jacqueline West is a GENIUS.  Reese has never looked so gorgeous and Vampire Guy can rock the depression-era grubby circus guy look like nobody’s business.  I found myself thinking of ways of incorporating Reese’s look into my wardrobe (riding boots, brightly colored scarves as headbands, sleek silk dresses, nautical stripes, an elephant).  Everything about it was incredible.  In addition, the adaptation was extremely well done, the story was enthralling, and I was actually very, very impressed.  I think Vampire Guy may have a future after he finishes those abominations that are allowed to be called vampire films (I’m an Ann Rice fan, can you tell?).  I actually think I may buy this movie, I want to see Reese in those dresses again.

4.  Alero in Columbia Heights-

Went here for lunch on Saturday.  Love the outdoor seating, not mad about the food.  The salsa was bland, the beef was well-seasoned but that was the only thing.  Even the guac had nothing to it.  I really wanted to run over to Chipotle for theirs.  That being said, it’s tex-mex with outdoor seating and it’s right next door to my new place, so I’ll probably be back.  Maybe their margaritas are good…

5.  Vapiano in Chinatown-

I love this place.  I keep coming back.  The happy hour is fantastic (and is seven days a week, which I appreciate), the pizza is delicious, and the payment system allows for really fast bar service, which I love.  Plus it’s super close to the metro, so you can’t lose.

6.  Dr. Who on BBC America-

Yep, still the greatest show ever.

7.  Pizzeria Paradiso in Georgetown-

Oh how I love the Atomica.  Definitely some of the best pizza in DC.

So that was my weekend.  I had a blast, broke my diet more times than I want to think about, and absolutely adored being out in the sun.

What did you do?

AGinDC

DC is so much better than this

Washington, DC is capable of pulling off some of the most glamorous, most well-run and most envied events of the season.  Granted, many of these are put on by or for the White House (state dinners, correspondent’s dinner, inaugural balls), but a lot of them are also put on by the many really excellent organizations around town (Artini, Gold Cup, Fashion’s Night Out).  However, there are also times when DC comes off looking like a small, southern, podunk hole in the wall  Last night was one of those times.

A couple of friends and I went to the Style & Image Network’s Beauty Night Out.  This event was advertised as ” a night of beauty, pampering and socializing with beautiful people, entertaining company”.  Hahahahaha.  I should sue them for false advertising.  What was false about it?  Where do I begin?

1.  Let’s start with the cost.  There were three ways to get into this thing, you could buy $35 advance tickets online (my friend T did this), you could buy a $20 Groupon (L did this), or, if you really suck and just found out about the event three hours before you went, you could pay $45 at the door (Yep, me).  That’s right, $45.  In DC.  For $45 of my hard earned money in this town I expect a hell of a lot of beauty, pampering and socializing.  Instead, the only thing that kept me from losing my copacetic was that the money (a small portion, I’m sure) is going to Fashion Fights Poverty.

2.  The venue.  The event was at Long View Gallery, which is actually a great little space.  Emphasis on little.  While this may be a fantastic urban art gallery, it was exactly the wrong place for at least 300 women, the world’s smallest bar (more on that later) and even the very few vendors on hand.  The entire place was crowded, the lines zigzagged across the room and it was basically the worst place imaginable for an event of this capacity.  Not only that but there was a huge area in the back that could have been accommodated with tables and chairs and instead had one sad little round table and a security guard.  Really?

3. The vendors.  For $45 I expected a LOT of vendors, all offering samples and wares and services for free.  This was, after all, what was advertised.  What did we get instead?  There was one poor little nail station, an exhausted looking masseuse, a skin care station with some product none of us had ever heard of, two vintage clothing stores with minimal wares (their owners looked furious and desperate), two tacky jewelry stands (their owners were nowhere to be found), an Asian diet plan table (don’t ask, we didn’t), Hello Cupcake (thank God for those mini lemon cupcakes of heaven), an Honest Tea station, and a sad little purse swap station (I had a feeling the event would be a bust when the website advertised Dooney & Bourke and Fossil as “designer”).  The lines for the nails and the tragic masseuse were at least 40 people deep at all times.  Everything else was abandoned. Or, as abandoned as something can be when it is surrounded by swarming and uninterested crowds.

4.  The bar.  Once we realized that we had been robbed we decided to console ourselves with a drink.  Oddly enough, there was no line.  L nailed it when she observed that a free bar without a line must be truly sad indeed.  And boy was she right.  Stuffed into one tiny little corner was a bar where two rather good looking men were pouring a pale liquid into plastic cups.  Halfway.  And no, they would not fill the cups if you asked.  It turned out, they were doing us a favor.  This liquid, which I will generously call “wine” was some of the most vile-tasting vino imaginable.  It tasted mildly of sparkling urine.  This was pretty much the last straw for me.  Or so I thought.

5.  The swag bag.  When we came in to the event the only person to get a little pink ticket was T.  It turns out that the only people to get swag bags were the few lucky souls who had purchased advanced tickets online.  So not only did the Groupon girls not get anything but we poor suckers who paid $45 at the door, the most anyone paid to get into this event, got bupkiss.  I would have been more angry, but then I looked in T’s reusable cotton Kenneth Cole grocery bag of sadness.  Inside were PopChips (I swear), a tiny vial of Udder Cream, a tinier vial of Kiehl’s lotion, a plain black pen taped to an ad for a fashion show that costs $75, is in Virginia, and is hosted by Paul Wharton, a $50 gift certificate towards services at Mandarin Spa (where the least expensive thing I could find cost $130, but still definitely the best thing by far), and a few other equally unimpressive items.  The bag was tackiness personified.  Itemified?  Whatever, it was sad.

So, AG, you say, here you are complaining about every little thing.  How could it have been better?

Let me count the ways:

1.  If 90% of your vendors are going to be charging for their products, then the event should be free.  If it’s free then we’re more likely to buy things/pay for services and then you can take 15% off of that for the charity and nobody feels like they got screwed.

2.  The venue needs to be bigger, more conducive to crowds and long lines, and organized much, much better (or at all).

3.  Don’t serve shitty wine.  DC is a sophisticated crowd, especially when it comes to our alcohol.  Don’t serve me Freixnet and tell me it’s Piper Hendricks.

4.  Everyone should get a gift bag.

5.  The gift bags should not suck.

6.  Would a little music kill you?

7.  Would food kill you?

8.  This was a highly publicized event that attracted hundreds of young professional women willing to spend $20-45 for a ticket.  There is almost no easier attraction for great sponsors and high end vendors.  The fact that you could not do that is evidence that you didn’t bother to try.  Next time, try.

9.  The only information about the charity this was supposedly for, Fashion Fights Poverty, were a bunch of casually tossed brochures on the purse swap table.  If this is a fundraiser, make it known.

10.  Professionalism.  Class.  Sophistication.  DC has a lot of this.  This event did not.

I got two really positive things out of last night.  1- I got to spend time with a couple of new friends who I really really like.  2- I saw firsthand that there are hundreds (probably thousands) of women in this city  absolutely craving great fashion, great events, and a market that will cater to them.  And they want it downtown, not in Friendship Heights and not in impossible-to-get-to Georgetown.  This is great news for the city and if really smart people catch on to this it could be the next wave in turning DC from The Hill + to a cosmopolitan city that just happens to be the center of the political universe as well.  And I think we all can benefit from that.

Now how do I get on this committee?

AGinDC

I slept last night!

I feel like my life has changed.  I have to do more of that in the future.

That is all.

AG

In which I discuss an exhausting work schedule, my first ANC meeting, and an amazing day in New York

The last week has been absolutely crazy.  On Wednesday I went to my first ever ANC meeting.  It was pretty much what I expected, a small group of people and a long, long table of commissioners.  The group was extremely diverse, which was nice, and they were debating whether or not a new 24-hour cafe should be opened by the man who owns Tryst.  First of all, anyone who has ever been to Tryst knows that it is the pimp shizzle and we should have about 20 more in this town.  Second, it was hilarious to me that people were actually worried about a 24-hour cafe.  Isn’t this supposed to be a real city?  No one in New York would think twice about a 24-hour diner and yet here this actually merits a small and insignificant outcry.  Hahahaha.  Thirdly, people, I live across from an IHOP.  You’ve already lost this fight.  I was hoping there would be some spirited debate about Congress and the budget but aside from a pamphlet about emancipating DC citizens from slavery everyone was mum.  Oh well.

On Thursday I hopped a BoltBus (now on F and New Jersey because of the insane construction project on H and 11th) to NYC for an amazing event on Friday. Last year Fordham Law School opened the first ever Fashion Law Institute and on Friday they had their first ever symposium!  It was absolutely amazing.  There were probably about one hundred people there, the panelists were everyone from the General Counsel for LVMH (yes, I died, she’s amazing) to Maria Cornejo and the author of the first ever Fashion Law textbook (that I currently sleep with under my pillow), Guillermo Jimenez.  I met him, he’s divine.  Super friendly and charming and wonderful.  I’m hoping to take lots of classes with him at FIT.  The whole event was incredible.  I even discovered a new favorite jeweler, GemmaRedux.

Since I’m just starting out in this business and haven’t even launched my firm yet (oops, did I just let the cat out of the bag 😉 ) it was amazing to meet and talk to so many industry insiders, fashion lawyers and the professors who are at the forefront of making Fashion Law something more than just a scattered group of lawyers and marketing professionals.  The Institute is amazing and I am so looking forward to being more and more involved with it in the future.  I also met a guy who just started his own firm and I quizzed him forever (poor guy) and a couple of wonderful girls from DC, Philly and Delaware who are all in law school and all hoping to get into Fashion Law when they finish.  I’m definitely keeping in touch with them!

Of course, one of the best parts of this event was the food!  The lunch was incredible, from the grilled chicken greek salad to the mousses and tarts laid out for dessert.  But after the symposium ended there was a Zero + Maria Cornejo presentation and along with her gorgeous and sustainable clothing were Kir Royales (one of my favs) and the most divine chocolates.  If I wasn’t on this diet I would have been in heaven.  As it was, I settled for a  Kir Royale (not diet approved, but what’s a girl to do?) and good conversation.

Going to this symposium was one of the best decisions I could have made for starting me on my path to owning my own practice.  I am so excited and so ready to get started and now I know a lot more people who can help me do just that.  So yes, Friday was amazing.

Then came the weekend.

Since I missed work on Friday I had to go in on Saturday to finish up a project.  I was there until 3am.  Then I went back on Sunday, for another 9 hours.  Yeah, that was awesome.

Not.

So now I’m so exhausted I can barely stand up and it’s only Tuesday.  Oh well, it’s totally worth it.  There are so many things keeping me fired up these days (starting a practice, meeting new people, hoping this contracting job lasts as long as possible…) that even when I’m exhausted I’m still excited about the way things are going.   And with the GOP primaries off to a hilarious start, things are pretty much exactly the way I want them.

Now let’s just hope Friday gets here soon…

AGinDC

I have a crush on Ruth Bader Ginsburg

I don’t know how he did it, but somehow DBax got tickets to the most amazing event in town last night, the mock trial at the Shakespeare Theatre Company.  That may not sound like much, and in any other city it wouldn’t be, but in DC, this was the event of the season.  Why?  Because we have a little something called the Supreme Court, that’s why.  And some of the justices on the Supreme Court have a little something called a personality, and three of them brought it out in full force at Sidney Harman Hall last night.  Yes, last night I actually saw Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Sonia Sotomayor and (I wasn’t so excited about this one) Samuel Alito in the flesh!!  It was incredimazing.  Counting the time I stalked Elena Kagan at Kramer’s for 20 minutes a few months ago, I have now seen four of the nine justices!  Woohoo!  The rest of the bench was actually made up of other super awesome judges, like members of the DC Circuit Court, which means they’re 3 steps and a death from being on SCOTUS themselves.  And one of the judges was even repping for MLaw!  Holla!

In this town full of lawyers it should be no surprise that this event sold out in 44 seconds.  DBax and I are already on red-alert for next year.  It was also the nerd event of the year as we all howled at jokes referencing everything from puns based on inane points of law to references to local political scandal (loaded SUVs anyone? Anyone?) and an absolutely amazing sentence chastising the House Ethics Committee using the names of former reps who have gotten away with murder.  The attorneys were Beth Wilkinson a partner at Paul Weiss (and wife of David Gregory, aka the Silver Fox, who was snapping pictures like a proud hubby!) and Irv Nathan, Acting Attorney General for DC.  Both were hilarious and Beth looked so great in her black dress and patent leather heels, I was totally motivated to stick to my overly arduous diet.

One of the best parts about the evening (besides the complete and total adorableness of Ginsburg, of course) was the audience participation.  We each got chips so we could vote after the arguments and they bagged them all up and weighed them on a scale!  It was great.  They also gave us time to question the attorneys while the judges were deliberating.  This was where it became painfully obvious that we were an audience full of lawyers, as people asked ridiculous legal questions for a mock trial based on a fictional story and the thinnest of legal arguments.  But it was hilarious for them to try.

The last best thing?  Watching Ginsburg slowly and delicately climb into the back of a big black town car that whisked her away, and then watching Sotomayor and a hot blonde chick climb into a Subaru and jaunt down the road.  Ahhh, to be a Justice.

I would be bored in Hollywood and couldn’t afford a thing in New York.  But in DC, I get to geek out at seeing SCOTUS justices, be entertained at over-the-top nerd events, and then sit outside in the gorgeous weather for drinks and people watching with a few good friends.  What’s not to love?

AGinDC

So basically, what you’re saying is, I’m going to die

HuffPo really f*d up my morning.  They do that a lot, but never to the point of an existential crisis.  Apparently, children of divorced parents are GOING TO DIE five years earlier than children with boring parents.

As if we haven’t suffered enough.

According to the new book The Longevity Project, I am going to die.  Soon.  And it gets worse.  Not only are my chances of an early demise significantly increased because my parents got divorced, oh no.  Since my parents’ divorce also means that I’m probably going to get divorced, and getting divorced similarly decreases your chances of a long and happy life, I’m going to die early twice.  There goes my retirement plan.  I mean, I can’t kill all of my husbands.

The news is even worse for men.  Since men are apparently basically drivelling idiots who can’t even manage to keep a house together (judging from the shape of my father’s apartment after the divorce, this is true), they are much more likely to die if they don’t get remarried, while a woman’s remarriage has little to no effect on her health and longevity.  Score one for us.  BUT, for some reason unbeknownst to me, the entire family is healthier and lives longer if the alpha male of the family is happy.  Is this because he’s not beating them?  Because he actually takes a break from the golf course every once in a while?  Because the mother doesn’t murder her children and leave them on the doorstep of dad and the mistress, Medea-style?  I have no idea, but since I didn’t have a father around (and hated him anyways), I’m pretty sure I’m going to die tomorrow.

And it gets worse.  Because, apparently you can negate all of these ill-effects by doing something which is hard for anyone in this age of iPods but is far more difficult for children of divorce.  You can have a normal social life.  Whatever that is, I’m a lawyer, which means I probably don’t have it.  Oh yeah, and speaking of choosing-a-profession-that-guarantees-a-life-of-loneliness-and-alcohol-poisoning (children of divorce are also, of course, more likely to smoke and drink to excess), you can also live just as long as the lucky bastards with beige parents if you find happiness and fulfillment by midlife.

This begs several questions:

1.  Is this the midlife for a child of divorce without happiness and fulfillment by midlife or the midlife for a normal person?

2.  If it’s the first, does your midlife readjust itself after you have negated the ill-effects of your parents’ night of alcoholic lust and subsequent shotgun wedding?  And, if yes, if you are no longer happy and fulfilled by the real midlife, are you going to die again?

3.  Who the F tells a child who is going to die that in order to live they have to be HAPPY???  Talk about a “the beatings will continue until morale improves” situation.  Thanks for the pressure.

So basically, I have decided that my life on this Earth is soon to come to an end.  The bad news is, I was just starting to like it here.  The good news is, children of divorce don’t have to worry so much about being alcoholics because we’re going to die before our livers give up on us anyways.

Happy hour is on me.

AGinDC