Prologue to The Year In Review: New AISL site

First, I'd like to announce the launch of the shiny, new ADVENTURES IN SELF-LOATHING site.

Second, the following post is my traditional Year In Review, one of the few times I stray from self-deprecation and allow myself to wallow unapologetically in self-pity. It's one of those posts that some people will read and think "Jesus, I didn't need to know that about this person, good lord what is wrong with her?" To those people I'd say, don't bother reading The Year In Review, but proceed directly to the new site and read about The Best Christmas Present Ever.

Additionally, I apologize to everyone I've talked smack about on this blog. You probably didn't deserve it. But hey, everyone needs their outlet, and this is a lot cheaper than therapy.

__________________________________________________

2007: The Year In Review

"Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it." -Mark Twain




Notice how I've paired this nice quote with a cheesy picture. -Ms. Laawyuhr


When I go running, or rather, my combination of walking and jogging that I call "my run", there are a few minutes towards the end of my time that I run flat out. I stretch my legs out as far as they will reach, my feet strike with a satisfying thud, and for a few minutes I run like I'm fleeing - before my asthma kicks in and my lungs betray me - and it's when I feel best about the world.

My body and I have always had an uneasy relationship. I was nine when my body and brain started developing in separate directions. That year was the first time I fainted from asthma. It was also the year that I suffered "a harmful or offensive touching" (what the law calls a battery) on the playground. The boy was older, had repeated the grade at least once already, and in retrospect was, no doubt, sexually abused. The boy didn't really hurt me; I was surprised and confused more than anything. And I wouldn't say I'm scarred by it. It's more of an omen about the way negative attention snuck up on me. It's also part of the reason my parents' moved me to private school.

When I moved schools, the girls there seem to already know their bodies, dressing in cute outfits and expensive jeans, while I remember being rather disinterested in clothing. I was still a kid; they were young adults. My brain didn't quite know what to do, so it continued to read books and daydream and assumed that things would sort themselves out.

Except that it didn't turn out to quite work like that. Somehow by the time I was in high school it became a regular part of my life that certain male classmates would surround me in a side hallway and taunt me, describing in detail my physical failings. Like the boy on the playground, their attention was unexpected; but they were far more unpleasant and malicious than that poor boy. And as I came to believe that I was some sort of quasimodo, I became more withdrawn. My brain and body increasingly went their separate ways, my brain resenting its container, its carrier.

O muse, I sing now of the themes of teen movies! Where we nerds of high school are promised success and beauty in the years following graduation, where the pain of high school will be sown into seeds of triumph!

But I found none of these things. There was no great success, no incredible love to sweep away all the incidents before. Rather in college and after, I tried relationships like hand-me-down shoes, squeezing my feet into ones too small or slopping around in a size too big not knowing how dating was supposed to work. I dated because I was grateful to find someone who seemed to want me, even if it didn't work. Or he hit me. And the brain believed it was all the body's fault.

And then I went to law school. After three years of educational misery, and then with the bar, and a 30th birthday this past year, I felt ready to try to have a personal life. Of course, that has been met with various degrees of disaster. I like to think that I should get points for trying, and that I'm not (completely) bitter. And if my behavior has been slightly crazy, or even pretty crazy, well, I think I'm entitled to mess up a bit at this point.

I'm not telling my story because I want anyone's pity. In fact, fuck pity. I've had enough for myself over the years. Writing it down now is like passing a mile marker letting me know how far I've run. And at long last, with the new year, my brain has come to accept that it and my body are actually the same organism. It's like what Khaled Hosseini wrote in The Kite Runner "I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded, not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannouced in the middle of the night."

So now when I go running, when I run flat out feeling like my lungs are going to burst, for the first time since I was nine, I feel like I'm running towards something.

Of course, who the hell knows what.

__________________________________________________________________________________
Past Years In Review: 2006, 2005

It's Official: I Am a Tip Top Laaw-yuhr

I've been on hiatus quite a bit recently. Truth be told, I just haven't felt the funny. The glass is half empty as of late. Even watching "Kitchen Nightmares" stresses me out. But I've decided to write in the hopes of cheering myself up at the very least. So without further ado, I bring you the crap I've been up to lately.

Two weeks ago we had to go to our professionalism course required by the bar. It's the bar's last ditch effort to teach adults to play nice with each other. I believe that all of this is done out of a selfish desire to change society's perception of lawyers and ultimately bring about the end of lawyer jokes. This project is as futile as trying to bring an end to Aggie or Pollack jokes (apologies to aggies and poles, I use you merely as reference).

The course was held in Baltimore with a check in time of 8:30. Because the gods of timing hate us, that was also the weekend of the army/navy game. Two days before the course, the bar officials called everyone to let us know that parking would be non-existent, so we got up at 5am on Saturday, dressed in our suits, and drove to Baltimore to make sure we'd have adequate time to find parking.

What scares me is that when we got there at 7:15 a.m. the place was crawling with army/navy people. Let me just tell you, nothing short of saving my life could have me out of bed at that hour for tailgating.

Now I had decided to wear a skirt suit because my pantsuit is a tad snug to wear for an hour and a half drive plus a day long session of who knows what. However, since I had no pantyhose - a requirement for a professional appearance - I was forced to buy a pair from CVS which not only felt like sandpaper, but fit like a sack. By the time we arrived to check in, my pantyhose were falling in folds around my ankles making me look like I have like elephant legs.

In what I thought was a stroke of genius, I went to the bathroom, and put my underwear on OUTSIDE my pantyhose to act sort of like suspenders. Still no dice - the pantyhose continued their southernly evacuation. After about ten minutes I was like F it, and went and threw them in the trashcan.

After an introduction, we were broken up into smaller groups with different facilitators for to learn about different aspects of professionalism. One session was a sort of "what to expect in the courtroom" sort of thing, with one very polite lady judge and one, shall we say, sassy lady judge. Sassy lady judge starts by having everyone go around and say his or her name and something interesting about themselves. So people go around with their boring shit "I take ballet" or "I do belly dancing" and the judge is ohhhh and ahhhing and it gets to me and I say "I used to work for an art museum" and was met with complete silence. So somehow that's less cool than belly dancing, sassy judge?

After the introductions, Sassy judge then goes onto to talk about profession dress for the courtroom. "I don't like ladies without stockings in my court...now if there's a good reason, one time I had a lawyer come tell me she had a rash on her leg and her doctor told her not to wear them until she healed and I was like ok, that's fine, you gotta talk to your judge...". The whole time she's saying I'm attempting to hide my pantyhose-less legs under the table so as not to be made an example of before the class.

Sassy judge continues "...and ladies don't think that you can be wearing spaghetti straps in my courtroom and take off your jacket. That is a no no." And it is at this exact moment that I look down and notice that a button, in fact the critical button, the one that holds my shirt closed across my chest - is open. Say hello to my boobs class.

This may be why I don't own many button down shirts.

________________________________________________________________
The title of this post is taken from an awesome interview with Madonna that was originally printed in Hungarian and then translated back to English. The result is awesome.


____________

Things I've Learned Recently

1. Friends Don't Let Friends Stencil
As we are people of disparate tastes in our household, we look to programming where our tastes converge, and therefore we end up watching a lot of design TV. However, even among the design shows our tastes diverge: I like the shows where things look better at the end (e.g. Clean House, Color Splash, and sometimes Design on A Dime) and Tiny prefers for the rooms to be transformed into shit-tastic monstrosities (e.g. Trading Space, Color Correction).

One thing we can all agree on is that stenciling is always a mistake. These poor designers, they only have $1,000 to try and make a room all TV fancy - and usually the people they're trying to help have crap furniture (not that I'm judging because I've got my fair share of that and long for fancy furniture) so sometimes, even on the good shows, the designers are forced to make some poor choices. Sometimes it involves inappropriate use of raffia, or the creation of "wall art" for "visual interest" but the greatest heresy is the use of the stencil.

For the love of god. If you have a friend considering stenciling - stop them. Just look at it. It's terrible. Don't do it.


2. The Fleece at Old Navy is Out of Control

Since I've found DC shopping to be sup-par, I've been forced to do a lot of online shopping. Online shopping means mistakes. Behold two mistakes:
You see, I was trying to find some cute and warm winter dresses that could be worn with tights for that cuddly winter look. The dress on the left looks ok in the picture - but when worn, the smocking on the sleeves is enormous giving one puffy-arm syndrome, and the neckline is incredibly dowdy. The look is something I'd like to call Space Matron. As in, I can see someone cast as a grandmother in a futuristic sci fi movie wearing this dress. Maybe.

The other dress, wow. Where to begin. On me, the dress barely covered my downstairs business. And you can't tell from the picture, but there are holes in the bottom of the "skirt" which makes the whole thing even more indecent. If the other dress was Space Matron, this is mutton dressed as lamb. Really poorly dressed Contempo Casuals style lamb. Yeah, that bad. Even worse, the sweater is apparently exactly my skin color so I looked like some sort of oatmeal sweater monster.

When I modeled these for the roomies, Tiny doubled over with laughter. She giggled for about 30 minutes straight. And in fact, the thought of me in these dresses has apparently kept her laughing any time she thinks about it. Yeah, they look that bad. So instead of shipping them back, I trekked to Old Navy to make the returns in person.

And thus I saw the fleece. The yards and yards of fleece. It was a veritable fleece army. And it must be stopped.


3. There are just some things I would have never thought of

You know, it would just never occur to me to combine someone's love of music and gadgetry and masturbation into one magical device.

But someone else clearly did.

That's why I don't get paid the big bucks.



________________________________________

You Know What Will Stop the Gays? A Highway of Prayers.

I bring you the fresh crazy. You're welcome.




Now tell me about your very own Purity Siege.



__________________________________________

You Like Me! You Really Really Like ME!

OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!!!!!!

I've just been nominated for a 2007 Drysdale Award from the Illustrious Grant Miller Media (who I was formerly at war with).

I've been nominated for the category of "Least Updated Blog".

Please, go and vote for me...often. Me and Mr. Splashy Pants.

Of course, now that I've updated my blog twice in the past 5 minutes I may no longer be eligible for the category.


__________________________________________________

Dear AMC Movie Channel

Hey there, AMC.

From what I understand, your acronym means "American Movie Classics". That's a noble calling. There are a lot of classic American movies that should be shown to kids today. You know, like Imitation of Life, and Sunset Boulevard.

But Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life? Really? Come on, AMC. That hardly meets the criteria for a classic.

Unless by classic you mean the fact that Lara uses some magical orb thingy -that Alexander the Great hid in a temple, which subsequently fell into the ocean- which would lead her to Pandora's Box. Ummm, yes of course. I love movies where some culture from the past holds the key to a secret, ancient, devastating power; whereas this same culture lacked the simple power of say indoor plumbing or iron.

So really, AMC, I think you need to get back to your roots. Rethink the classics bit of American Movie Classics.

America needs you. Thanks.

Sincerely,

Ms. Laaw-yuhr, Esq.

Requiem for Mayorga's Pumpkin Pie Chai Latte

Good lord, I love pumpkin.

If given a choice between chocolate and pumpkin, I would be hard pressed to decide. That's why the chocolate covered pumpkin truffles created by Godiva are to die for. But I digress.

Today is a sad day. Today the Mayorga coffee house near me has informed me that they will no longer be serving the Pumpkin Pie Chai Latte. I come not to praise the Pumpkin Pie chai latte, but to bury it. Oh, Pumpkin Pie Chai Latte, you were like drinking a pumpkin pie. I watched the barrista make you one day, how she put what looked like pumpkin pie filling into the coffee, how she added the whipcream on top. Oh, sweet deliciousness.

"Why?" I cried out to the barrista when she told me you would be served no more. "Pumpkin should be served through Christmas!"

She shrugged and said "Nevermore".

Just A Thought...

I think it would be so much cooler if the show "Bones" used The Killers song "Bones" in the opening credits instead of the current theme song by The Crystal Method.

I also think the cheesy animation in The Killers video could benefit the show.

Bones v. The Crystal Method: you be the judge.



I don't even like the show; it just comes on before House.

Oh Internets, How I Have Missed Ye!

I apologize to my five loyal readers for my unexpected hiatus.


Shortly before heading out for the Thanksgiving holiday my Dell experienced its 17th meltdown in the form of the death of the screen and motherboard. Keep in mind that I am now on my second hard drive, second keyboard, and third screen for this little bastard. When the Dell guy came to install all the new hardware, he said "You've had so much replaced, I don't know why they don't just give you a new computer."

Exactly Dell-man. Exactly.

My computer is now a sort of Frankenstein's monster, the only original parts now being the bottom exterior case, and the interchangeable disk/CD drives. However, they do send a Dell guy to your house to fix it, so that's pretty badass. In this case, the Dell-man trekked out to my parent's place in NC to fix my monster. Alas, though it was repaired there are no internets at the NC house, and so it just lay there, sadly, unused, on the dining room table.

So how was everyone's Thanksgiving? Mine came with a fresh supply on North Carolina crazy. On the day of, there was much talk of gallbladder surgery, with the boast by one person of having had so many gallstones that the surgery was broadcast on that surgery channel.

Other highlights? At one point I was chastising my sister for not getting the digits of a guy she was working with (he quit!) who is on this season's Project Runway. As I am obsessed with Project Runway, I intended to hunt him down, make him be my friend, and come to a Project Runway themed party. My sister gazed at me with contempt and said "I am the honey, they are the bees - theycome to me....Besides, I don't need friends, I have beer."

Then at breakfast on Sunday we were rushing to get my sister to the airport (a painful, never ending, hour and a half away) five of us were crammed into a booth. I gallantly suggested that I would sit at the crap seat on the end of the booth. There was so much stuff on the table I had my plate shoved in sideways, with part hanging off the table. At one point as I was trying to cut something, everything shifted, the plate tipped over the edge of the table, launching my biscuit and other assorted breakfast items into the air and over my shoulder. Waitresses came rushing to make sure I was ok - but I'm not quite sure what that meant. Ok as in I'm not having a seizure? OK as in I'm now covered with food, should we mop you down? In either case, I've decided to call getting mad "flippin' my biscuits".

Feel free to use it.


______________________________________

Apparently Lawyers Are Jerks or Something

The day I got my bar results in addition to the well wishes from all of you, I receive the following comment on an ancient post:

"You have got to be kidding me. I just ran across this Blog and this woman needs to get over it. It is a tool, why wouldn't you have looked in the "Tool World"? Isn't it amazing, you can give people an education and a title, but for all their money, they couldn't find enough common sense to fill a thimble. Sorry, but I think all lawyers need to be tortured and then made to work retail as a punishment for being a damned lawyer."

The post being commented upon was one I'd written in law school, and described how I'd gone to Lowe's (hardware store) to get some wood clamps. I was unable to easily find these items and asked every person I encountered who worked in the store (10 people!) where I could find them. But nobody seemed to know what I was talking about. Finally, the wood clamps were found in a special section of the store, hidden off in the corner, known as "Tool Alley".

Apparently, according to Anonymous commentator, this scenario makes me an idiot.

Oh Anonymous commentator, let me put it to you this way: Let's imagine that one went to the grocery store. Now imagine that you were seeking something simple, like cheese. But the cheese could not be found. You asked employees, and they merely shrugged their shoulders. Then, in the back corner of the grocery store you found something called "Food Alley". Would you not be bewildered? Would you not wonder what the fuck the rest of the grocery store was for?*

But that's ok, Anonymous douchebag, that's ok. I'm just a lawyer and everyone knows lawyers the world over and through all time have never done anything worth while. We all just sit around sharpening our talons, smoking cigars, and patting our fat tummies while smoking our cigars. Sometimes we also go swimming in all our money. Wait, is that a lawyer or a fat cat tycoon?

Oh, that reminds me of another story: While at the National Portrait Gallery one day and viewing a portrait of fatcat tycoon Andrew Carnegie, one of America's finest said

"Oh look, there's Andrew Carnegie"
"Who's that?"
"You know, that famous musician."

America's finest concluded that the man who donated Carnegie Hall must be a musician, rather than a corporate fat cat. Which reminds me, how come when someone says they're a CEO, or VP, or CFO you don't hear people say "My god, how do you sleep at night with all the blood of the innocent on your hands?"

At any rate, Anonymous, I have worked far worse jobs than retail. And I've been paid less than my male counterparts to do those crap jobs. Also, I'm not sure how I was "given" an education, as my loans seem to indicate that I'm in fact paying through the nose for my education, and as to title, I suppose you mean "esquire" which I believe I earned through surviving three years of misery and passing the bar. I wonder what it is you do for a living, Anonymous? I'd be happy to discuss your contribution to society - or lack thereof.

But thanks for your startlingly novel "lawyers are jerks" rant. Really. It's a totally fresh line of thinking.

Maybe you should get to work on a similarly innovative and pithy calendar?



___________________________________________________________________
* Sorry grammar police, that sentence should more properly read "Would you not wonder what purpose the rest of the store served?". However, that is far less satisfying to write and I am a firm believer in the vernacular. Even when it's written. Oh go to hell.

AISL Officially at War with Grant Miller Media

Because everyone else is at war, I too have decided to declare a blog war.
_____________________________________________________________
Grant Miller of Grant Miller Media has stepped over the line and must be stopped. What has Grant Miller done to initiate such hostilities? Grant Miller has dared to insult The Great State of Texas.

As a native of The Great State of Texas, I feel it is my duty to REPRESENT.



Miller says "As many of you know, Texas is wasteland of art and culture. Its residents are inbred cretins teeming with fecal matter and disease. It is a worthless hell hole where no one respects art or culture unless it's painted on black velvet or magically appears on a tortilla."

I'll have you know, Grant Miller, that when you see the Virgin Mary appear to you on a tortilla it is a pretty special thing. It's the Virgin Mary for God's sake! Then you have to decide whether to call the press in to witness the miracle - or finish making your fajita. It is a tough call I tell you.

Miller also states "I hope sharing these priceless works from the Art Institute of Chicago will expand the minds of most Texans, allowing them to consider a world beyond Tex Mex restaurants, honky tonks and "Dukes Of Hazzard" reruns."

Fortunately some commentators on GMM attempted to set the record straight about a few things, but let me do so now with greater clarity: We do NOT watch "Dukes of Hazzard" as that is set in Georgia (I believe) NOT The Great State of Texas. We have four shows that we watch:

1) Dallas

2) Walker Texas Ranger

3) World's Deadliest Police Chases - 3/4 of which take place in Texas. It's bitchin to see how we stack up against the rest of the world.

4) The Dallas Cowboys

And when we're not watching those four shows, we eat Mexican food. God's gift to America is Mexican Food, and those who disagree with me have clearly never had a burrito. Granted, we don't really want so many Mexicans in Texas - but that's a whole other thing.

And as to Honky Tonks - well if we're not watchin' the Cowboys or eatin' Mesican food, we are down at the local Honky Tonk ridin' the mechanical bull. I'd wager that most of you men-folk would drool at the sight of one our Texas ladies showin' the bull how it's done. If that ain't culture - well hell, you tell me how that's different from a naked painting?

So take that Grant Miller Media. I think I've demonstrated that The Great State of Texas is anything but what you described.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go ride my horse and shoot my pistols in the air.


_____________________________________________________________

The Results Are In!

I am happy/proud/ecstatic to announce that EZ, Tiny and I all passed the Maryland Bar. We are now bona fide, certified, authentic* lawyers. Booyah!


*OK, not quite yet as we have to take an ethics class and be sworn in, but you get the idea.

No Halloween for Me

I'm sorry to disappoint everyone, but there will be no Halloween for me this year. I'm making a semi-emergency trip to New York this evening so there will be no slutty-candy happiness. And, OK, actually, there wasn't going to be any Major Tease or Texas Hold 'Em anyway. I generally struggle with showing an appropriate amount of cleavage, so Halloween isn't much of a novelty for me. By way of example, I present the following pictures.

The first picture is a dress I ordered. Notice how it looks perfectly normal on line.












The second (rather poorly shot) picture is this dress as it appears on me.









You may notice how the dress takes on a slightly unintended pornographic look when I wear it.

The last time I participated in Halloween, I went as an Oracle and wore a non-slutty toga (left over from my high school Latin days - don't ask) and carried a magic eight ball. When, after explaining my costume, and the 200th drunken guy replied "Well I see you in my pants" I pretty much decided I was altogether over Halloween.

However, Halloween is one of the High Holidays for the gays, and in that spirit of celebration, I went with my gays (ok, really just EZ and his friends) last night to see the D.C. High Heel Race. This is where the drag queens kick of the Halloween festivities by running two blocks in full drag. It lasts for all of 20 seconds, but it is pretty hillarious to see a throng of drag queens wobbling down the street at full tilt.

Best Costume? A drag queen pushing a Larry Craig look-a-like on a toilet. Priceless.



__________________________________

AISL Weekend Edition: Help Me Choose my Halloween Costume

Ah Halloween. The time that every girl rifles through her underwear to create a "costume". But really, I'm tired of being a "sexy" witch, or a "sexy" devil. It's time to go as something new and startling, and also possibly slightly less related to Halloween. Won't you please help me decide?

Behold this little number known as Major Tease. When I support our troops, I like to do it with an underwire bra and spandex! And what a deal at $52.99 - it even comes with the jaunty hat and canteen.

Who knew inviting a Tailhook-style raping could be this much fun?!




What could say "I abhor the vestiges of slavery" more than Southern Belle Sexy Adult? Let's relive one of the most contentious times in our nation's history - and show a little skin while we're at it! Demure on top, pure southern belle on the bottom - the website even says "This southern beauty is not going to give you bad hospitality."

Could have only been more offensive if the model had been black.

Goodbye Sherlock Holmes, hello Inspector Adult! According to the website, "She's out searching for clues that will lead to the fun!!"

By that they mean, she can't offer any sort of Holmesian insights, but she's probably investigated some business - if you get my drift.




And last but not least, allow me to present Texas Hold 'Em. You know what's funny? Getting groped! Show the guys at the party just how funny - and how easy - you are with this hillarious costume!

Can also serve as a "how-to" for that really, really drunk-special- guy in your life.




Let me know which you think suits me best - after all, I'm a girl, and god knows I can't make a decision without input from at least 15 people!

Things Thag and I Think Are Funny But Nobody Else Does

The other day I was staring blankly at my blog thinking to myself perhaps I should hang up my spurs. Or my keyboard. Or whatever bloggers hang up. I was feeling things were getting stale, mainly because I have so little going on right now in my life I have few stories to relate - I mean, it's been at least four weeks since I've been pooped on. This has left me only the ability to comment on the more banal aspects of pop culture. And let's face it, there's a whole bunch of people who are better at it than me - and you're on my blogroll.

So long story long, I was thinking of quitting or perhaps going on hiatus for a while. But then The Guv'ner awarded me the I'm Fabulous award (one of five worthy of the honor). And then I thought to myself, no, Yay though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall gird my loins and continue the good fight. So without further ado, I bring a string of random nonsense that I find amusing. Enjoy. Or don't. Screw you - I'm fabulous.


*Ikea - I love to buy stuff from Ikea, not just the furniture items, but the useless throw away items like paper napkins and bamboo skewers because they've got fun names like "Splarg!" and "Lartf!" Ok, so I don't know the actual names, but the fun comes in when I just make up a name and ask my roomates about it. For example, I'll point to the empty paper napkin holder and say "Hey guys, do we have any Splarg! left?" Then I laugh to myself, while my roommates, EZ and Tiny, look at me with disgust and mild amusement respectively.

*John Basedow - I must see his ad at least 20 times a day. And yet, it never ceases to amuse me. Never. His insane frosted locks. The fact that even though he's ridiculously sculpted, he still seems to give off the vibe of a 98 pound weakling. His terrible Hulk Hogan inspired wardrobe. The incredibly low production value of his television ads - please take special notice of the fact that all the cheap graphics are squished as the person who designed them didn't know about the differences in pixel output from computer to TV (on the computer they are square - on the TV they are rectangles so you have to adjust). I sometimes even find myself singing his insane little theme song: "Fitness maaaaade siiiiiiiiiiim-ple". I almost made Tiny crazy on the metro the other day humming it.

*Aerogarden - Good god, have you seen this thing?! It's amazing. It's "the world's first indoor smart garden - It's so easy to use that anyone, with or without gardening experience can grow lush, beautiful gardens right in your home!" If you've got one of these things you have a very serious commitment to growing your own herbs. Really, I think the thing is meant for pot heads to grow their own special herb, but hey, I'm not here to judge. And seriously, if I had $150+ dollars to throw down a hole and the space for an indoor garden I would so have one of these. EZ and Tiny have completely forbidden me from engaging in this foolishness, but don't think I haven't thought about it. Specifically about all places in the house where I could conceal a 16" long by 10 1/2" wide by 15 1/2" high herb garden.

*Hanging Chads - So I have a friend named Chad, and the Halloween after Al Gore lost/won the presidency I tried to convince him to go as a "Hanging Chad" for Halloween. What would this costume have consisted of?
1) a noose draped around his neck
2) a "HELLO my name is CHAD" nametag

I also suggested "Dimpled Chad" if he didn't want to fully commit.



Thag and I thought it was brilliant.