Legal eagle

As a general rule, I care very little what Chris does professionally. I mean, sure, I'd be unhappy if he decided he wanted to be, say, a professional football player, a politician, or a pimp managing a stable of hos. Otherwise, whatever floats his boat is fine by me. Aside from the general lawyer jokes and my own misgivings about what I think is the over-lawyering of America, in particular, I'm fine with him practicing law. Actually, I'm neutral on it...couldn't care less one way or the other.

Until now. As I type this, Chris is on the phone with the reception coordinator discussing the various clauses of our contract, offering to redraft the contract (because it's very vague), and generally being very smart and firm in his discussions. He's being very lawyerly, but in an agreeable and polite way. I think I'm falling in love all over again! swoon A lot of the things he's discussing are things that I brought up (based on the wedding reading and research I've done over the past few months), so yeah, it's stuff I know about and understand, but there's no way I could be so adamant and authoritative (and yet polite!...I get rude when I feel flustered or cornered). Finally, three-plus years of emotionally supporting him through law school and the bar exam are paying off!

It's a little baffling, actually, how vague the venue's contract is. Well, okay, it's not at all baffling, because it leaves a lot of doors open for them to jack up the prices and pull a switch-a-roo on what the per-guest cost includes. This didn't sit well at all with us, because we are paying a metric butt-load of money to these people, and to my mind, I want in writing exactly what a metric butt-load will get us. But it's done! Contracts are signed, checks are being mailed!

And in a whiplashing-inducing change of topic, I'd like to talk about me and crying. Chris just put on Weezer's latest album, and one song (whose name I can't remember) made me think of the fact that I can cry for any reason at all, or even for no reason. This particular song's video showed Weezer cavorting with the cast of the Muppet Show: Kermit, Miss Piggy, the penguins, the Swedish Chef...the whole shebang. The first, oh, five times I watched the video, I cried. Real tears, fat tears, streaming down my face. Because I was so fuckin' joyful about the Muppets, and Weezer and the Muppets, and the random fuckin' penguins somersaulting throught the air. Lame? Maybe. My default emotional response is to cry. Aside from the obvious things--like being sad, or being touched (emotionally, you perv)--I cry at everything. I cry when I'm angry, frustrated, happy, surprised, SCARED. Chris scared me so badly once (he really didn't mean to), I burst into tears and couldn't stop sobbing for about 10 minutes, which, in turn, scared him, because who CRIES when someone pops out from around a corner? A one-note emotional retard like me, that's who. And this is yet another reason I'm thankful for Chris: I hate negotiating contracts and stuff like that for fear of crying and caving in. I'm such a wuss.