Not That Desperate

I'm pretty damn desperate to find a job at this point, so when I saw an article with the tagline "25 Best Markets to Find a Job" I clicked on it, thinking that it might provide some insight or something. Uh, no. First on the list: Sioux Falls, Idaho. There's also Bismark, ND and Houma, LA, all the way down to Pocatello, Idaho. Apparently the numbers are based on unemployment and job growth compared to last year's figures and the national average. I'm guessing the simpler explanation is: podunk town + no competition (because who the hell wants to set up a life in Pocatello, Idaho) = low unemployment. It's easy to come out ahead when there are probably more jobs in your town than there are people.

Lay it on Thick

I have a new favorite thing. A favorite condiment to be exact, which I may start eating with everything. Behold:

I implore you to buy this stuff. I beg it of you. It's amazing. It manages to be both sweet and spicy in perfect proportions, like good curry, which is fitting since it contains curry. It's fantastic with thick, spicy tortilla chips (which you can also purchase at Trader Joe's, my new favorite store). It's great on pitas. It fits perfectly with hummus. I would bathe in it if I could. Plus, it's only $3. I love it so much I wish I'd invented it so that I could take credit. Purchase some as soon as possible. You will thank me.

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

So, as someone of you may have heard, someone at my lovely and well-behaved alma mater recently stole Mr. Rogers' shoe during an event (law prom) at the New Orleans Children's Museum. And, although I know that the school has basically been banned everywhere that they've had Barrister's Ball in the three years that I was a student, there's something about this one that actually made me ashamed to say that "hey, I went to school there." Because, dude, it's Mr. Rogers. What the fuck is wrong with you? Anyway, I brought it up to M yesterday, hoping that he'd sympathize (because, well, it's Mr. Rogers)...

Me: You know, for the first time ever, I'm actually ashamed to say where I went to law school.

M: Why?

Me: Okay, so they held law school prom at the Children's Museum this year, and while they were there, someone actually stole Mr. Rogers' shoe!

M: Hysterical laughter. It had to be done!

Me: Horrified. What?! Why?!

M: They should send ransom pictures of it. Like have pictures of the shoe and...

Me: No they shouldn't, that's horrible! Dude, this is serious. I mean, they could get kicked out of school, and hello? it's Mr. Rogers' shoe. Mr. Rogers. They should give it back.

M: Wait, Mr. Rogers? I thought you said Ronald McDonald. You mean the shoes that he used to take on and off?

Me: Yes! Mr. Rogers!!!

M: Oh, well that's just wrong. They should return it.

Now, I know it may seem, given everything else that I've chosen not to comment on during my tenure at law school, that I'm overreacting and acting like a goody goody. Well, maybe I am, but Mr. Rogers is fucking awesome. He used to go to the same church that my family did here in Pittsburgh, and my mom has told me time and again what a wonderful person he was, and quite honestly, he held me one day when I was a baby and told my mom that I was cute, which is sort of awesome, and makes me a little star struck in the way that most people are when they see, say, Brad Pitt or someone. So, don't fuck with Mr. Rogers dude. Be a good neighbor.

Snacky Goodness

I feel like I have to link to these amazing Potato Chip Cookies that I made yesterday. They combine two of my favorite things, obviously chips and cookies, in this wonderful salty/sweet, crunchy/soft little bit of wonderful. The texture is sort of Pecan Sandy-ish, but lighter, and the taste is like having a salty snack in the middle of the afternoon and dessert all at the same time. And they're super easy to make, so all the better, although maybe not so good for my waistline since I can't stop myself from eating them like I can the heavier, chocolaty cookies that I usually make.

Esquire

I passed the bar!

Do These Jeans Make My Ass Look Cold?

Two things:

1.


Clear 52°F

Feels Like 52°F

I'm not entirely sure where weather.com is getting their data, but it does not feel like 52 degrees out there. More like 40. More like, holy shit it's cold outside. It's official, I have acquired the tolerance for cold of someone born and raised in the South, rather than that of someone simply transplanted there for a few years. I shiver and whine and cower in fear of the cold, especially when I realize that it'll likely get about 30-40 degrees colder over the next few months, zeroing out somewhere in late January/early February. This is the sort of cold that physically hurts when one steps outside. Something to look forward to.

The other problem with this winter issue is that, after three years in New Orleans, I have almost no cold-weather clothes left. Those that I do have may or may not fit after at least a year in boxes. Normally I would go shopping to remedy this little problem, but my lack of an income precludes me from doing so (quick aside on the job front - bar results are due on Friday. I won't be checking them until Monday because I don't want to ruin my weekend (aren't I an optimist?), but I'm scared). Hence, my uniform for a while may have to consist of jeans and various college hoodies. Hell, at least I'll fit in should I decide to wander down to the college campuses.

2. I posted a while ago about how much I'm dismayed by the return of the skinny jean. I remained strong for a long time, but recently I caved. I am now the proud (maybe? I still need a girlfriend's opinion, which is more difficult now that we've all moved away) owner of a pair of skinny jeans. Like, really skinny. Part of me thinks they're awesome, and part of me is afraid that I look like an asshole. Good thing I'm going to visit Big Booty Ho in D.C. this weekend and can get the required feedback. I have to admit, I hope it's positive, because I'm shamefully excited to wear them out in public for the first time.