I need to get a fat ass and a cat
2005-07-11

My life crisis is over as I realized that I was modelling my dreams of being a lawyer on my smarter friend P., who goes to an Ivy League law school and is guaranteed oodles of money when she graduates (unless she chooses some sort of charitable law in which case she will only make half-oodles of money). To give you an example of the delusion involved in my thinking, her blog is being linked in MSNBC's "Altercation" for her fine thoughts on the justifications of the Iraq war. Meanwhile, my main readers are the five people who want to know who the host of "Dancing With the Stars" is. (It was Tom Bergeron. Now go away, you worthless fucks.)

After considering the differences in our talents and interests for ten minutes, I came to the conclusion that if I went to law school I would probably not end up a jetsetting millionaire/impassioned activist/legal expert but a less lardy version of lawyer/Internet villainess "Miss Alli.". The day I spend money to make that happen is the day hell freezes over. I can be an obsessive hypocrite who brags about her alcohol consumption for the cost of free, thank you very much.

I just realized that P. doesn't get paid for creating well-written source material for an established journalist, while Miss Alli gets paid for writing about fucking "Blow Out." What the hell? Where is the reward in this system for thought? And how come nobody pays me for writing three paragraphs about shit reality programming? Goddammit, if P. had only written Dawson's Creek fanfiction instead of legal commentary, I could totally use her Ivy League connections to get paid for writing crap too!

I hate you, P.