On Being Misunderstood, Part 2 (Lawyer edition)

If you're having a tough time finding that Mr. T onesie for your newborn, there you go. Thank you Jayme and Sue, now I know what to get stuck in a time warp Phatback if he ever makes good on his threats.

This weekend was a virtual shopping spree for Gideon, his grandmother and aunt got him a whole surfer dog ensemble and Shweta, my best jewelry customer, is trying to make me feel guilty for closing up my beading workshop by bearing a bounty of baby gifts. Ladies, I can only do so much while taking care of an infant! Mercy!

On Sunday Tender Buttons threw an informal dinner party and served Primanti-style sandwiches. My numerology report said I was going to meet somebody new and I did, two new people in fact. Lawyers. Apparently now that TB is one, that's all she'll socialize with. I took her aside and said, "Look, Dimitris and Henry seem like OK people (for lawyers), but can't you find yourself a nice taxidermist to hang with?" But TB is all "Lawyers are the only people who understand me. Oh, I'm so alone in the world. You don't know what it's like. Oh woe." Just like I didn't understand last summer when she was studying for the bar because apparently if you've never studied for it you just can't possibly know. Of course when I pull that shit and say "Until you've been pregnant, I don't want to hear it!" TB is always the first to roll her eyes and point out that if I raise Gideon as an only child he'll be a self-absorbed weirdo. Better that than a lawyer.

Oh, I kid, I kid.

(Cause I can't tease her since she's a woman and will hold a grudge for a god damn eternity.)