When I grow up (Or, 5 career paths to fall back on).

Now that I have submitted my bar application, it's time to start seriously considering my fall-back plan. Really plans, since I don't expect any of them to pay the bills for any extended amount of time. My current top 5:

1. Boradway Star. When I was a little kid, I used to say I wanted to be a singer/dancer/actress on stage. I honestly feel like right now I have as good a chance at this as I do getting a job as an attorney. A quick review of the qualifications:

• Can I sing? In my car and in the shower I put on quite a concert.
  
• Can I dance? I actually took dance when I was younger and won some talent contests. Then again, 10-year-old me was pretty freaking awesome at just about everything. Seeing as how I am pretty much old balls now, I would probably break a hip.
  
• Can I act? We should check with Professor Rosenzweig on this one. I try to act like I'm paying attention in tax class three days a week, so if he's convinced, I'm pretty sure it's a go.

2. Reality TV Star. For further explanation, read this.

3. Coiner of Words. There is actually a story to this one, and it goes a little something like so: One Friday afternoon, during a make-up tax class where we were all dreaming of the booze and boos to come at the annual WLC auction, Jackie and I got to talking about rompers. Rompers? you ask, Why on earth were you talking about rompers? Well, it just so happens that our new mutual bff (who doesn't yet know she is our new mutual bff, but once you read her blog, you will want to be her bff too) has a vendetta against rompers of the adult variety. And in case you haven't noticed, for some inexplicable reason, the fashion world for some reason thinks they are a great idea right now. Anyway, Jackie accidentally found herself the confused owner of this gem:

And the following conversation ensued:

Liz: You know, that romper truly reminds me of stuff I wore in the summer when I was about 5. Jackie: Agreed. Which, is awkward, since as Una points out - you have to get completely naked to pee.
Liz: I think I would think it was a really short dress on the rack.
Jackie: Dislike. It looked like a long halter!
Liz: That is so true...the whole peeing thing is not overcomable.
Jackie: Overcomable.....good word.
Liz: I know. I just coined it. Rompers are good for something. Maybe I can get rich off that word. Jackie: I'm not sure you can -but might as well try. You can sell that word to dictionary companies while wearing a romper. It's a unique marketing strategy.
Liz: And they will know exactly what I mean.
Jackie: Totally - because you can strip down to show that the peeing while completely naked thing is wierd.
Liz: And then they would feel sorry for this poor girl who just humiliated herself by getting naked in a business meeting to which she wore a romper and they would totally buy my word.
Jackie: YES! I think this is the best idea yet.
Liz: I will add it to my list of fall-back plans.*
Jackie: Please place it near the top. And hire me as your fashion consultant. I can buy rompers with the greatest of ease.

To anyone reading who happens to work for Merriam-Webster or Random House or any other dictionary publisher: "Overcomable" is for sell.

To any of my friends who happen to have taken IP law classes: I may need your help soon. "Overcomable" is going to be big. HUGE, in fact.

*Done.

4. Professional Poster Maker. Reagan and I are going in together on this one because, as we learned while making posters for the ROW raffle and bar review at the Atomic Cowboy, we are awesome with an electronic paper cutting machine, glue and glitter. Here is just one of our creations:



We are available for weddings, birthdays, bar mitzvahs, happy hours, auctions, potlucks, upcoming evening of fabulousness at Shiver, Sugar and/or Norwoods' and road trips to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.

5. Mechanical Bull Rental Company. Haven't you ever been to a party and thought, man, this is a great party, but it just seems to be missing something? What that party was missing, friends, was a mechanical bull. Because a party just isn't a party until something like this happens to one of YOUR friends:

Friends don't let friends ride mechanical bulls...sober.

Also available for weddings, birthdays, bar mitzvahs, happy hours, auctions, potlucks, upcoming evenings of fabulousness at Shiver, Sugar and/or Norwoods' and road trips to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. (I hear Dolly's got some serious mechanical bull skills.)

NB: I am currently seeking investors for any/all of these endeavors. Checks can be made out directly to me. Thanks in advance for your contribution.

In my next life...

I'm going to be an MTV reality star. I think I'll start with the Real World, then accept all invitations for the Real World/Road Rules Challenges. I mean, I highly doubt these people have real jobs, yet they seem to live fairly comfortably lives. And several times a year, MTV provides all the alcohol, sex and drama a person could ask for.





Here's the plan:
1. Grow up in a fairly normal suburban family.
2. Concoct some story about "struggles" in my life that will serve as an excuse for any immature/absurd/asinine behavior.
3. Go to college for a year or two where I develop an uncanny ability to make a drunken ass of myself with the help of all the beer and liquor I can drink at the friendly neighborhood frat.
4. Send in a video of my amazing self simply being amazing to MTV. Get cast on the Real World.
5. Hook up, pass out, fight with housemates, cry in the confessional, suddenly realize the error of my drunken ways and become everyone's bff.
6. Compete in challenge walking the fine line between loyal teammate and backstabbing bitch in order to come away with the cash.
7. Make random appearances at Spring Break and New Year's Eve bashes.
8. Repeat steps 5 through 7 as necessary to pay the bills (at least the ones that mom and dad don't still pay).
Judging by the stellar cast of characters that has been around since I was in jr. high, I can milk this for 10-15 years.

Hopefully, by then I will have suckered some dumbass into being my sugardaddy, which will make for a perfect segue to my second career as a cougar on "Real Housewives of Somewhere." Shopping, drinking (the expensive stuff this time around!), catfights with other Real Housewives, design my own fashion line and put on a "fashion show" where all my high-society frenemies realize what a poser I am...what more could a washed-up G-lister ask for? (That's right folks, by that time I will have sunk far past Kathy Griffith on the D List.)

Why didn't I think of this sooner?

Mid-Semester Blues.

It's that time of year again. Fall break is a fond memory, the hectic holidays are looming, classes have settled into a predictable pattern (except for one class which seems to morph into an ever-more frustrating monster twice a week) and all I want to do is stay home and sleep.

Instead, here I sit, probably catching swine flu on the Metro, headed to work, which I would love if classes didn't get in the way, throwing myself a pity party.

But these aren't just any mid-semester blues, friends. No, this year they find me in a very existential mood, wondering what exactly I think I'm doing with my life and if perhaps I should be doing something else. Blame it on the economy and my resultant joblessness, blame it on the fact that my law school career is drawing to an end and I find little to comfort my anxiety that this has been the most expensive mistake I have ever made, blame it on my knack for deciding that I want to be one thing when I grow up only to change my mind as soon as the end of one part of my journey draws near, just please, help me find something to blame!

I suppose that I would feel this way even if I had an amazing job lined up for after graduation. There's a little voice inside that pipes up whenever I get too far down one path to turn back, and it always has the same thing to say: Ugh. How boring. I can't believe this is what you have settled on. After all the big plans we made, after all the big things everyone expected of you. What a waste. And my response: But I don't know what else to do. This seemed like such a good idea. I thought I'd love this, be excited about it, look forward to getting out there in the real world. I thought I could be amazing at this. The voice: Heh. So what if you are amazing at this? What difference does it make? Who cares? Are you going to look forward to getting up in the morning for this? Me: Probably not, but I just don't know where I'm supposed to go from here...

Passion seems to be lacking. Not in me, I'm passionate about lots of things, Scott, my friends and family, my crazy misfit dogs, reproductive rights, the fact that Mr. Pibb is NOT the same as Dr. Pepper, I could go on and on. Yet I find myself searching for passion in my career choices. I think I can find it, I'm just not sure how. I mean, let's be honest, if I had my choice, I'd totally be a Gwen Stefani-esque rock star, and parlay that into so many other things, such as a shoe line, opening up a center for "troubled" teen girls where they could get advice on everything fron birth control to fashion (because when you know you look good, you feel sooo much better about yourself!) and a no-kill shelter for animals. But since God has not seen fit to bless me in the vocal department, there must be another way to get where I want to be. While I feel I've exhausted my supply of doors, I'm still looking for that open window. If anyone happens across it, prop it open so I don't miss it.