Heart-shaped Humiliation

Confession:

I let Valentine's Day get to me.


I've been a member of the Hallmark-holiday-blablabla team for as long as I can remember. (We might also be known as "bitter" - you might be familiar with our group.) I'm slowly starting to realize that for my entire adult life, I might have been that girl that was (rather proudly, I might add), anti-everything. I never wanted to get married. Kids? No thanks. So, uh - Valentine's Day??? Clearly for ignorant, insecure consumers who mishandle their disposable incomes. (So, maybe I've been more more of a "superiorist" than "anti-everything", while I'm making up words. )

I know - it's pretty transparent. It's always the single people who hate love.

Yes, but you see - I predicted this argument and responded by remaining consistently anti-everything when in relationships as well. Ok... and maybe I did a little bit of semi-intentionally/semi-subconsciously dating the kind of guys that wouldn't have married me/celebrated Valentines with me/[intentionally]procreated with me. Something like a self-fulfilling prophecy, or something.

So - now that we've briefly psychoanalyzed my past destructive behaviors, we will fast-forward to today - Valentine's Day 2012. I've relinquished my hold on almost all of my anti-establishment beliefs (as it turns out, I just needed the right, super establishment-esque dude to get to this point) and am pretty much ready to be barefoot, pregnant, in a kitchen, and happy about it. So you can see why it was pretty important this year to hold on to my anti-valentine beliefs. It is, after all, the only thing I have left.

But, this is how it went down:

Two months ago, I "warned" Ben that I didn't tolerate Valentine's celebrations (yes, I posed it as a warning, pretending to brace myself for protests, allthewhile knowing/hoping he would later brag to his friends that I was the most awesome girl ever). Six-ish weeks of The Bachelor and Kay-diamond-real-life-engagement-story-commercials later... and I casually decided we would do dinner. Low-key, at home... but you know, together- and sort of more special than our other dinners. Many-hours-of-contemplation later and I had developed a menu, about three weeks in advance, and about four courses deep - no biggie. Somewhere along the lines, I informed him we were doing cards - but just cards - and before you know it, I've basically mandated my own love letter to myself. Finally, it reached the point of, maybe-you-should-just-put-flowers-in-my-office... or something.

I am actually really truly embarrassed by this behavior. When I came into my office this morning and saw my Valentines "surprise" - I realized how silly I had been. First of all, surprises aren't really that great - or, by definition, really surprises at all - if you demand them. Gifts and grand gestures aren't really that grand at all if there is an unspoken expectation that they will be done (or else...). Not to discount the good work of Ben - but he actually asked me if I was surprised... but why would I be? I told him he had to do it. He really had no other choice. And, seriously, the chocolates and card are really nothing in comparison to the times he has dutifully done the dishes without me asking. People say that but they aren't lying.

We all say the same things about Valentine's Day - it's a made-up day, intended to make single people feel bad and/or to make un-single people spend money. All of these things are essentially true - but you know what's really bad? I realized today that it is a holiday that is maybe unintentionally designed to make us all take for granted what we already have - whether it's a fabulous [single] life, or a really great [but maybe not most creative/great at surprises] significant other.

And I fell into the trap. For shame.

Speaking of Valentine traps -

I told my dad on the phone yesterday that I heard the average man spends $150 on Valentines Day. He called bs (while I may officially be the first lawyer in the family, our argumentative nature, I suspect, goes back several generations) and I looked into it. This "study" was done by the National Retail Federation - soooo scientifically unbiased! As it turns out, the National Restaurant Association claims that 46% of the men they surveyed just prefer a meal for Valentines Day.

:-)

I wish all of my friends, loved ones, and the couple of blog followers I have the best Valentine's Day possible - whether you're being drowned in diamonds/chocolate/roses, or drowning yourself in vodka - remember that as far as I'm concerned, all holidays are fun - but that it's important to stay grounded and remember the true meaning of the day (which is meant to be funny, as there is no strong consensus as to the actual origin of this day). The only real meaning is the meaning you give it. And I say so. And it's my blog.

<3

Sh** People Say to PD's

My Facebook feed has recently been flooded with a lot of videos about a lot of sh** that a lot of people say. So, I'm calling this a blog-ette... and it's called "Sh** People Say to Public Defenders". The first series is about things that people say at cocktail/parties/bars and, generally, upon first meeting you, in a way that, frankly, is super inappropriate. The second is about things clients say to us. Even after four years of this occupation, I have more sympathy for the latter. Nonetheless, theres nothing like going to school for 19 years and wading through a mortgage's-worth of student debt, topped off with a test you have to spend a full two months studying for- only to be asked these things every other day. :-)

"Do you ever represent like, guilty people?"

"Do you have to like, go IN the jail?"

"Are there any clients you wont represent because of their crimes?"

"How do you sleep at night?"

"Do people ever tell you that they're guilty?"

"I could never do what you do."

"So you're just doing this for experience, right? So you can get a real job later?"

"Could you not get a job at a law firm?"


"I want a bar/paid/real attorney."

"Do you want to go to law school someday?"

"You're good at this. You should be a real lawyer."

"Have you ever had a trial before?"

"What is your win percentage?"

"I know you have too many cases, but I need you to do something for me."

"I know you work for the State."

"You aren't fighting for me."


I invite you to add more.

Wait, babies come from WHERE?!

When I first heard about Alabama politician Bill Johnson and the sort of strange infidelity he had in his marriage, I thought it was another predictable example of hypocritical social conservatism.  Bla bla bla - a Repulican politician from the South impregnated lesbians in Australia, despite his public stance against gay marriage... sounds strange, but whatever.  A Republican senator could be found gagged and naked with two male midget hookers and I'd barely look twice at the headline. 
          ****as a hopefully-unnecessary side note, I do not think the only politicians engaging in sexual indiscretions are conservatives.  I did, after all, essentially learn about blow jobs from President Clinton.  The politicians who try to legislate in the bedrooms of others are the ones more fun to judge.  Also, as a double side note, Mr. Johnson gave a full statement about the misdeeds of his... well... Johnson... yet the only thing he refused to comment on was the fact that he donated sperm to lesbians.

Anyway, this all brings me back to my last post- weird sexual practices and 20/20.  Remember how I said I had considered selling my eggs in college for cash?  Of course everyone knows that men low on cash can drop by their local sperm bank for a quick dollar.  But, apparently, there is a whole black market for sperm.  Actually, black market is probably the wrong term since loads of men (sorry, couldn't help it) are apparently giving theirs away- for FREE- on the Internet.  Yes, I know - at first this seems obvious.  After all, men have been pretty openly willing to part with their sperm for free... actually, they've traditionally been willing to PAY to get someone to take it off their hands... But, despite the behavior and/or the result, typically the goal of these types of casual encounters would not ideally be a child.  

No, the men featured on this show were different.  Very, very different.  It featured two of the most stereotypically nerdy-looking dudes, both stereotypically computer engineers, who, not so stereotypically, donate their sperm- regularly- to random women on the Internet... for insemination.  

The first story was about a married couple who can't conceive- so they pick out an engineer dude, meet him in a cheap hotel room, give him a sterile cup and some alone time and - boom!  - five minutes later, they return, he leaves, and the next camera shot is one of the woman with her legs elevated on some icky Motel 6 pillows.  You can fill in the rest of the blanks.  She said it was important to her that her husband be present when she conceived.

The motivation for the women to take this route was primarily financial.  Can't beat free sperm.  Also, there was the idea that "fresh" sperm was better than the frozen kind you find in the banks.  Then again, sperm banks freeze sperm to maintain its quality while they test it- for diseases... sort of a perk you may not want to forego...  But, aside from the practical considerations, I also have to imagine that anonymity is a benefit of the traditional methods as well.  Visitation and parental rights aside, I'm just not sure that I'd want my most vivid memories of conception to begin and end with some gross-looking dude holding a cup of his own sperm in a cheap hotel bathroom.  Ugh.

This brings us to the next fine young gent.  The other geeky lad was a bit more of a professional.  In fact, he actually takes pride in his virility- to the point that he drinks a "fertility shake" every day.  Made up of a bunch of random strange ingredients, the only proof of its effectiveness lies in his claim that tests prove him four times more fertile than the average man (and 65% of the time, it works every time). Women can be seen coming from miles to his trailer (yes, seriously) to collect a little bit of his... well, you know... success.

The rather obvious question at this point is- why?  For the women, the motives seem pretty obvious.  But what about the donors?  Is it something about the masculine need to procreate?  Does a higher sperm count translate to a higher male self-esteem?  Or could it be a sign of some kind of sexual deviance?  One of the dudes featured was outed on 20/20 as being involved in some shady-sounding underground porn world.  Or, is it really truly just a form of community service, done with purely altruistic intentions?

One thing I'm quite certain is not a selfless act of service to one's community is the dude at the end of the show.  He's a subscriber to the "natural method".  Yes, it is exactly what you think it is.  Dudes who will have sex with random women, for free, out of the kindness of their hearts, to intentionally impregnate them.  The featured man- who was in disguise, due to his fear that his wife was too close-minded to appreciate his service to others- had impregnated six women that he knew of, "naturally".

Interestingly, then government is trying to get involved - specifically, the FDA.  Apparently, even when your sperm is free, it is subject to some regulations.  Granted, it is important to screen for diseases and to protect the public from the potential danger these kinds of "trades" can present... Then again, everyone in these situations seemed to know exactly what they were getting into- and risking.  And, I mean, really - is the FDA going to start regulating all of the drunk people who go home from bars together and share diseases?  

Mr. Johnson, the politician mentioned at the beginning, said in an interview that he had an urge to have children of his own.  Although he had raised several step-children, his wife had a hysterectomy prior to their marriage that made it impossible for them to have their own.  So, naturally he got involved in the Australian sperm trade.  All of these guys make it sounds like there is an inherent male urge to procreate - an idea I think science would support.  It also seems important to them to get across the idea that they're just trying to help... I guess this means that a few of Maury's regular guests may be up for some sort of Nobel prize soon....

What are you selling?

As my birthday approaches, I must face the truth: I am getting old. There are many signs: my metabolism isn't quite what it used to be, I can barely make it to midnight, and shots of tequila are no longer a good idea. Oh- and on Friday nights, I watch Dateline and 20/20.

Despite the fact that I am aging rapidly, I like to think that in terms of average-Dateline-watcher-age-range, I fall somewhere near the bottom. So, when I heard that this week's edition was about a crazy new culture of sex, I assumed I would not be shocked. Yes, teenagers and politicians sext and suburbanites have crazy sex parties. There are furries and fuzzies. There are large groups of swingers in the Midwest, and I even heard they let men marry men in some places. Tell me something I didn't know, old folks.

Well, they did.. and the fact that I found myself in on a Friday night, mouth agape, learning about the bizarre sexual practices of kidsthesedays from a middle-aged reporter is another sign that I'm aging. AARP card is in the mail.

I'll start by saying that when I was in college, I briefly considered donating my eggs. Yes, THOSE eggs. Based on the number of signs littered around campus, I'd assume that where there's a large number of college girls with designer handbags, there's great potential for recruiting designer baby-makers. At one point I responded to one of the trillion ads on campus. It turned out that according to the magic baby-making formula -based on a combination of things like my height, weight, and SAT score- my eggs were worth about $20,000. Although there were plenty of girls at Vanderbilt with premium and likely organic, free-range, very fancy eggs - I, apparently, was one of the few who would actually consider parting with mine for 20 grand.

When I discussed this with my friends, no one took me seriously . After all, I tend to be a bit of a stupid idea machine - and that same year, I toyed with the idea of posing nude in art classes for cash (what?! it's ART). Most people wondered if I thought it would be weird to know I had kids out there in the universe. Others asked if I would really want to facilitate the procreation process for the designer baby types. Frankly, neither of those things had occurred to me, and neither idea fazed me once they were considered. Ultimately, the only thing that stopped me was the realization that donating eggs was not exactly as simple as donating sperm. Instead of a little alone time and some nudie mags, egg donation involves several rounds of hormone shots and a rather painful egg retrieval process. Ehhhh, no thanks.

Anyway, 20/20 introduced me to some chicks who made me feel better about myself last night. (and let's be honest, isn't that why we all love tv train wrecks?)

Enter, the sugar babies. Let's not kid ourselves- it's been awhile since I though of a Sugar Daddy as a piece of chewy candy on a stick. I'm familiar with the concept. I had a female client once who referred me to sugardaddy.com. I'd be a big liar if I didn't admit to perusing the website after I saw what kind of cars she and her friends drove. I had to create a username to browse and it was Lori6969. There, I admitted it.
Either way, I get that people do these things. People like my clients. I did not realize that Ivy League students did.

They are called sugar babies and they search for their daddies online. It's kind of like a match.com where people are honest about what they're really looking for. There are websites that specialize in helping creepy old rich dudes find young, college-educated arm candy. On the list of the top ten schools participating, number one was NYU - and Ohio State and Harvard both made the list. Apparently some men offer 20 grand a month for companionship. I wonder if I'm too old to be a sugar baby... kidding... sort of.

There was discussion about whether this was prostitution. I guess there's a legal question in there somewhere. But, more than anything, it's probably something most important to the girls who are doing it. Most people don't want to be placed in the hooker category. The lines are blurred, really. Women accept free drinks every day from men at bars who want - companionship. Personally, I've always said I wouldn't date a guy who didn't pay for me on the first date. So, what is my date paying for? Uh, companionship?

Let's be honest: when a man buys a woman food or alcohol, he is essentially buying a raffle ticket for her vagina. There's no guarantees (generally), but it certainly improves the odds. So, the men on websites like sugardaddy.com just aren't big gamblers.

We are used to the idea of the stripper who does what she does to get through law school... Pretty sure every poor college student would rather date one old creepy guy for cash than strip for a thousand of them. Sounds classier too. And, who am I to judge? I almost sold my eggs (which, by the way- now that I'm old, I'm so glad I didn't). And, for real, if there was ever a reason for schools to stop raising tuition...

This post is long so I'll tell you the other half of the story tomorrow. Until then, friends-

Tebowing

Tim Tebow is the kind of person I've always been suspicious of - handsome, talented, kind, principled... I use the term "suspicious" instead of something like envious because, being who I am, being like Tim Tebow doesn't sound too appealing... or... fun. Instead, my suspicions are aroused any time something, or in this case, someone, seems too good to be true. There's a reason why every Tim Tebow joke involves him as a pedophile-hiding-bodies-in-the-closet type. There's gotta be more to it. And being a Gator never helped.

The point of my ramblings today, if I may be so bold as to assert that there IS one, is not to hate on Tebow. Although it took awhile, his sainthood was established in my world the night he helped to take down the evil evil Pittsburgh Steelers. But, is it a question of good and evil?

Tim Tebow, along with the Denver Broncos, is now a part of "America's Team" [completely different than Team America, f--- yeah***]. Mainly, I guess, because it's a great underdog story. The last-minute, impossible wins and a quarterback who wasnevergonnamakeit create a pretty good story for the media and its consumers. But we can't ignore the Jesus factor.

It isn't my purpose to criticize Tebow's faith and borderline televangelism. I truly think he should be able to say what he wants, turn off or offend who he might, as I'm sure there are also a lot of fans who love and respect him for that as well. Far more interesting than one player's kind of unsensational faith (as he certainly isn't the first), is the media's fascination with it all.

Living in Florida, amidst so many (ugh) Gators, I've been hearing about Tebow, his virginity, and his favorite Bible verses for some time. Once he left for the NFL, I was quite certain he'd slide into relative obscurity, leaving me only to hear his name from a sullen Gator fan, reminiscing as a way to cope with a losing season. Then, of course, Tebow rises again (pun intended), and starts helping his team pull wins out of, well, nowhere- and the resurrection left him bigger than ever before. He went global.

Suddenly, my Facebook feed was full of friends "Tebowing", making a sensation out of Tebow's sideline prayers. And, those last-minute, crazy wins- well, they were nationally attributed to... Jesus.

Now, most of the time, this kind of stuff just makes me roll my eyes. I didn't actually start thinking critically about the whole phenomenon until Bill Maher got involved. After the Broncos got spanked by the Bills, Bill Maher posted the following on Twitter:

"Wow, Jesus just f---ed #TimTebow bad! And on Xmas Eve! Somewhere in hell Satan is tebowing, saying to Hitler 'Hey, Buffalo's killing them."

And outrage ensued. Demands to boycott HBO followed (Maher has a show on that channel). Eric Bolling of Fox News tweeted about it with the tagline #straighttohellBill (the hypocrisy is rich). And it was more than just media hype: people I know personally were discussing canceling their HBO.

Ok, so here is what in find interesting: not Bill Maher, who is always offensive to someone (and probably enjoying the publicity, right before the new season of his show premieres), and not that religion is such a hot topic (duh). But, if you find Maher's comment offensive, isn't the WHOLE thing offensive? Meaning, the Tebowing... the SNL skit with Jesus in the locker room... the entire concept that actual Jesus is actually taking the Denver Broncos under his actual arm and leading them to victory-ish... for Tim Tebow??? Doesn't he have more important things to do, like picking the winner of the Republican primary???

Maher's comments were an extension of the ridiculous metaphor... if Jesus is leading the Broncos to victory, it naturally follows that any losses would be, well... attributable to Satan. The whole thing is silly but, well... I guess that's my point. I think being offended by one thing would lend itself to being offended by the whole thing entirely. But, what do I know? The last time I said in a group that I didn't find Maher's comments offensive, I'm quite certain I was almost sent to the stake.

Any thoughts?

A rose by any other name...

What's in a name? For Romeo and Juliet, it was what made their romance forbidden (and probably hotter). But what does it mean for a generation of Internet daters? Maybe a lot.

A study from the UK was recently published that looked at what names people would be most attracted to (or repelled by) when they couldn't put a name to the face. The most attractive names were: Charlotte, Emma, Hannah, and Marie for women. All very nice names, but they all strike me as very innocent, very virginal, and very sweet. Maybe the kind of girls who would bake you cookies and do your laundry. For guys they were: Jacob, Alexander, Max, Peter, and Mark. I'm no theologian, but aren't almost all of those Biblical names? They're definitely all either names of a book of the Bible or a great conqueror of Ancient times. Basically, the names for both sexes are very non-threatening.

On the flip-side, the women who got the worst responses were: Mandy, Celina, Chantal, and Jacqueline. Who even has those names??? It sounds like the cast of next season's Rock of Love. I think that's the point. For men, they were: Kevin, Justin, Marvin, and Dennis. In my personal experience, Kevin's are jokesters and Justin's are grown-up jerks/the really hyper kid in 3rd grade... But Marvin and Dennis?? Nerdsville.

I'm sure there are some differences in British names and America names anyway, but the concept itself has to remain true. I myself ave always placed great importance on names. Personally, I've never really loved my name. My real name is Loriann, which is nice and different, but I never go by that since it has often been confused with Lorraine [shudder]. So, I go by Lori, which is just kinda blah and not the kind of name that makes anyone take notice. I was always jealous of the girls with cool names that made a random guy in a bar say, "oh that's a beautiful name.". Lame pick-up line or not, I never got it.

When I was a kid I used to think that certain names would automatically make you prettier and more popular. My favorite was always Liz. I've also always been a fan of the "V" names- Vanessa, Valerie, Veronica - those are always the names of the cool, bitchy-but-beautiful girls in the movies. Oh, and I was always a Heather worshipper, long before I was aware of the movie. Alternatively, everyone knows that if you want a daughter who's destined for the pole or the trailer park (or both), you name them after a season or a day of the week.

It works the same for guys - I always wanted to date a Brad. Oh, Brads.... As a grown-up(ish), I've fantasized about dating a guy with a sexy, mysterious name like Ian or Ethan. Instead, I always got the guys with the weird and uncool names. I legitimately used to be afraid to tell people that my boyfriend's name was Bob. I mean, Bob? Seriously? I could feel their judgment and they hadn't even met him. I had a crush on a Randy and I dated a Gary. I had a really bad streak [*sorry to any of those people who may read this- I still love you but you have to know- and I couldn't change your names for purposes of this particular story*].

My teacher friends also have names they hate to see - for different reasons. Some names just always equal BAD KID. I checked, and there was a study about this too. Also British, the "naughtiest" names were Brooklyn, Callum, Connor, Liam, and Brandon [my brother's name]. For girls, no one wants a Chelsea, Alesha, and Demi.

I guess there really is a lot in a name- so all of that energy my new mommy/daddy friends are putting into naming their kids is pretty important. One of my friends wants to name her bun-in-the-oven Harrison, but is terrified people will call him Harry. I have to admit, I wouldn't pick a guy named Harry on match.com....

Baby, it's cold outside

Ben found out today that I have a blog and, because he doesn't understand why I would do such a thing (or who would read it), he started calling it my "liberal manifesto". (Someday I'll write my "why opposites attract" blog...) Admittedly, it would be difficult not to comment on the Iowa Caucus tonight, with the news websites full of stories with titles like, "Santorum's Anal Sex Problem"... or, at the very least, a juvenile but hilarious look at the word, "caucus".... but, in an effort to prove that I can talk about something other than politicians who have been debating whether states should ban birth control while opposing abortion, yet promising to fix our economic problems while severely limiting public benefits... Yikes, I oughtta digress...

But, seriously, my mind has been on a far less controversial subject today- the weather. Yes, more than an unoriginal yet reliable topic of conversation for those like myself, certain that nothing is more awkward (or terrifying) than silence in an elevator, the weather in Florida is a matter of great interest to an Ohio girl like me.

I will never forget my first Florida Cold Snap. I distinctly remember a Miami newscaster warning listeners of sub-tropical temperatures; reminding his public of the importance of dressing in layers for a high of 65. I recently realized that there's an extreme discrepancy in the way Floridians even talk about weather. In Ohio, when we say, "it's going to be 55 today", not only do we mean that it's finally time to break out our shorts and visit the tanning bed, but we mean that the high of the day is 55. When a Floridian *complains* that it's going to be 55 that day, they are referring to the overnight lows.

That being said, it was legitimately cold here today. When people got a glimpse of the Ugg boots I tucked my suit pants into today, many of them commented ..."but you're from OHIO". Naturally, my response is always, "riiiight, and why do you think I came here?"- but it caused me to think about an age-old myth: does moving South truly "thin your blood"?

I spent some riveting hours in court this morning researching this issue for my readers, as loyal and plentiful as they may be. First of all, blood doesn't really "thin". Your blood either clots easily or it doesn't. If your circulation is bad, certainly different parts of your body can feel cold, since they aren't getting blood all the way down there. This is entirely unrelated to where you reside.

This led me to another brilliant question: why are you always so warm when you're drunk? (aka: where does that liquor coat come from?). Answer (copied and pasted so I don't have to re-type):
One effect of alcohol is to make the skin capillaries dilate. This brings more blood to the skin. Since the heat receptors are close to the surface of the skin, you will feel warmer. However, at the same time, you will lose body heat more quickly. (With enough alcohol, you will be more likely to freeze, but less likely to care whether you do or not.)

So, there you have it. Hopefully you know a little bit more about cold weather and I bet I successfully avoided offending anyone with such a dull topic (except, ironically, Ben, who is still banned from reading my blog).

So, drink up and warm up, wherever you are!