See me in DC? Nope – home post work trip and ready for happy hour.

Thought you could use some happy mail. Helluva last convo we had in the DC Reagan airport. Let’s hope your weekend involves a few more MD related answers and definitive game plan to start zapping that crap out of you. Stage 4 – really? Just bypassed all the rest? You always were an over achiever.

Family in town going nuts yet? Since your mom is a lot like mine, I bet she has rearranged everything in your cabinets so it is now all “in the right place.” Which means you won’t be able to find your measuring spoons for at least a month, but also that someone other than you is cooking.

Not sure if The Rodent is already on your shelf, but this was fan fav of mine when cutting my teeth in law firm land. After all, few things rival time-honored sadistic tales of junior associates straight out of law school being big firm emotionally sodomized to lift one’s spirits. My favorite is when the newbee gets away with using the rainmaker partner’s file number to send crack shot heinie faxes to the equity committee. Hard to identify the culprit from that angle. I hope no female has that amount of crack hair – the rest of you would have to be cuh-razy hot to overcome a dude forgiving that epic wax fail. Anyhow, Enjoy! And be grateful we are no longer the junior associate plebes.

I ran out of card space so had to resort to this farthest cry from Crane’s stationary. In my defense, I’m at Sydney’s swim meet. The fact that this is written on paper and not in the margins of a heat sheet is almost impressive.

Being a fellow geek lawyer, I hit the internet after our call (best most reliable place to find information to no actual doctor’s chagrin ever) to research what kind of stuff I could maybe do to help you right now. It’s weird to type “What to say when your best friend has cancer.” It’s also weird that the search results all start with “what NOT to say when your best friend has cancer.” And it is ESPECIALLY DISCONCERTING to realize that I said all the things you’re NOT supposed to say in the twenty minutes we connected this week.

In case you are wondering, here’s the top 10:

1. My other friend had that.
2. That’s a good one to get, right?
3. Cancer isn’t as bad as it used to be.
4. I’ve always wanted to shave my head.
5. I know how you feel (I think I missed this one).
6. Have you considered [insert circa 1642 homeopathic remedy ala leeches).
7. If anyone can beat this, it’s you (aka passive attempt to guilt immune system to work overtime).
8. You’re so brave.
9. Now you get lots of free time.
10. One heck of a weight loss plan.

I am guessing a lot of folks are committing these oral offenses. Maybe we can make some mental bingo cards: you can reward folks with Mr. Yuck stickers every time someone gets three in a row? Sure, that’s 1.) kind of mean because even ill spoken people are usually well intentioned; 2.) a little funny; or maybe 3.) me being a sadistic asshole making sport at the good will of others.

Really hoping it’s not just the last one.

On a completely unrelated note, Pete and I are going to Punta Cana tomorrow. He got a long overnite there. On international trips, commercial flight crews get put up at (no joke) an all-inclusive four-star resort which comes with a complimentary 20-minute massage and bottle of rum – because we do not want those charged with aircraft worthiness and passenger safety to be thirsty. Supposedly the crew gets to fast track clear customs at the hotel. Which is good because now we know where to headquarter home base our drug smuggling operations; we just might have to dress like flight attendants. Wonder if the costume store has any that look more Dr. Spock than naughty nurse so they take us seriously? Or will customs be less suspect if we HAVE the low cut high slit slut factor? Good thing I was never a spy because the covert operation would be done by the time I decided what to wear. Sorry – diversion.

The flights are open with tons of extra seats because there have been some tourist deaths attributable to tainted booze consumed by foreigners from resort mini-bars. No fear here:

1. I am WAY too cheap to touch a mini-bar fridge as you know those are NEVER included even in the all-inclusive. You’ll pay $12 for a minican of flat coke;
2. I am no amateur. I am packing my own and if Pete’s crew can’t raid the drink cart before deplaning (allegedly), I will do my best to make sure we all get Stormy’s version of a doggie bag. I’ll be sure to toss in a few mini-fireballs to toast ya’.

Hang in there – love ya’ xox,

Stormy