No Rain

I swear the weather report this morning said it was going to rain. I even double-checked the weather report as I was leaving to make sure I wouldn't feel completely silly in my rain boots.

It did not rain anywhere near school, and I may or may not have looked a little silly in my rain boots.

Add to that the following exchange, and you've got another amazing (and awkward) day in my sartorial life:

Friend: Did you paint your nails to match your boots?
Me: Well -
Friend: And your shirt?
Me: They are about the same color . . .
Friend: And kind of your eyes?
Me: Huh?

I guess I should backtrack for a second - I've been trying to look more polished (unintentional pun, but it's staying) lately, and part of this effort has been taking care of the nails I've neglected for many, many years. I've always shied away from painting my nails because of the inevitable chipping, but impulse-bought this little guy during one of my alarmingly regular trips to Target:

It's called "Power Clutch", and defined on Essie's website as "a striking, deep gray-green." I would say it's much more gray than in person than this picture shows, and is a definite winner in the "color, but not too much color" category.

Even if it does match my boots.

And my shirt.

And maybe my eyes.

Shiny, Happy People

So I may or may not have spent the weekend in sweatpants doing incredibly important things, and by "incredibly important things" I mean, "watching movies (some for the second - or maybe fourth) time and playing Zombie Gunship on the iPad."

It was awesome, and only slightly depressing when I walked outside (gasp!) to get the mail and managed to run into the entire neighborhood and their dogs in my men's extra large sweatshirt, high school track sweatpants, and pink slippers. The picture of elegance, I tell you.

But after every unproductive weekend comes a Monday, and I hit this one head-on in the most cheery yet work appropriate outfit I could muster in a desperate bid to outshine the crappy weather.

I have no idea why this picture turned out so yellow, other than that maybe the light in my room is crappier than it looks. The skirt is actually a medium tan with silver, as seen below:

Have I mentioned recently how much I miss living near the J.Crew warehouse? My bank account appreciates the distance, but my soul does not.

On a completely unrelated note: The pink-and-glitter nails didn't even make it a week. I would like to attribute their premature demise to my hard-partying lifestyle, but realistically it's because I put on too many coats of polish too quickly (Essie polishes are super sheer, so opaque = 3-4 coats) and they started to peel on day 2, which resulted in picking at my nails from days 3 to 5.

The lesson? Patience, grasshopper. Or thicker polish next time. Probably both. That, or marry a bajillionaire so I can get manicures when my nails are looks especially raggedy. Equally probable scenarios, which doesn't say much for my nail polish game but I'm okay with it.

This is What Success Looks Like

Yesterday (after very nearly being late to work) I made a commitment to myself that I would be up at six every morning from now on. In my mind, I thought this would make me the most productive person on earth - assignments would be completed; puppies fed and walked like a champ; diem carpe-d.

Here's what actually happened, post dog walking like a champ:

Watched the trailer for "The New Girl" again, and wished I were Zooey Deschanel.

Finished some school work, although it took much longer than it should have.

Painted my nails. Pink. With glitter. I am officially three years old.

Totally didn't drink that Dr. Pepper as part of my breakfast, by the way . . . definitely not.

Pretended to do my hair, then realized it had started to rain and my super laborious (sarcasm) efforts were for naught. Subsequently decided to give my skin a much-needed break from makeup and wear fake glasses in an effort to cover up my laziness/try and blend in with the hipster contingent at school. Ended up looking more like a librarian on her day off, and I'm okay with it.

I'd say this new plan is going swimmingly, wouldn't you?

The Thing About Law School is . . .

. . . that it can be completely life-consuming, if you let it, which I have for the past two weeks or so. But after finally getting into the routine at my internship, sitting through a barrage of student group meetings (some of which I organized, so I guess that's my fault), and finishing the first two big-ish assignments of the semester, I'm back!

Actually, Ashley was the one who reminded me I had this whole "blog" thing going in the first place, so Miss Yates, this is for you:

Consider it my homage to your splendid red lipstick-wearing skills, although mine is a tint that looks kind of blotchy up close. Also, I know what you're thinking, and that is definitely not the bathroom of a Harris Teeter where I stopped to buy a sad-looking generic fruit tart before dinner with the Gent's family on Saturday. Nope.

I survived the past week (Edit: week before last) by telling myself (repeatedly) that fall is on its way, which, on the east coast, is a magical time of year. As the Gent pointed out, I own more cardigans than the average individual. Maybe multiple average individuals. But if you've spent any time in Virginia between late September and mid-November, you get it. I can't wait to go on a drive down the Blue Ridge Parkway . . . if only I lived closer!

Sad but true - I started this post a week ago today but never finished it because law school got in the way (again) and then I completely forgot where I wanted it to go. I will therefore move in an entirely different direction. Onward and upward!

I usually don't have much to say in the was of "lawerly" things, other than platitudes about school being a major time suck, job applications being the bane of my existence, and me being . . . well, me. On the other hand, being a completely broke law student makes the little things in life that much sweeter. Like when you get an email asking whether you'd like to attend the 2011 Legal Times Awards Dinner, which in my mind reads like this:

"Hey you, we both know you can't cook and haven't put more than 10 minutes worth of effort into getting ready in months. How about you get off your lazy bum and do something about that hair, and we'll provide you with a wonderful meal in the company of roughly 200 complete strangers?"

Make that 200 complete stangers and this fine gentleman.

Anyways, good times were had by all, the pumpkin cheesecake was delicious, and the wind only managed to half ravage my hair before dinner (a job which it promptly completed on the walk back to the metro.) But you know what? Life is pretty good, and I'm gonna roll with it. How's that for "deep and inspirational?"