I’m not drunk enough.

My butt itches.

I’ve got to go — my Mom just called and it’s my night to empty the dishwasher.

What was your name again?

Compiled by me, the Lovely Miss Katie, and her brother Mark, over dinner at BLT Fish.  Thank god I’ve never actually heard any of these on a real date.  Yet.  Please feel free to add to the list — I’m sure you’ve got some good ones.

Anyhoo — I’m off to Kismet later today for the rest of the week and through the weekend, so if my posts are light (or non-existent), that’s why.  And if you want to see pictures of the rest of my weekend: the BLT party (black tie, lingerie, toga) and the Big Apple Barbecue Block Party (one of the highlights was the "wine with swine" class taught by Danny Meyer of Blue Smoke), here ya go.  Have a great week!

If you’re a woman reading this, odds are you’re wearing the wrong bra size.  Really.  My mom and I went to The Town Shop, legendary for fixing undergarment woes, and we both discovered we were wearing the wrong bra size.  They take one look at you, ask you what size you have on, and then say, "no, sweetie, you should be wearing" (insert size you didn’t even imagine you would wear).  The right bra in the right size is an amazing thing — it’s  . . . dare I say it . . . comfortable.  Straps don’t slip, wires aren’t poking, no need to tug it down.  Absolutely incredible.  Not to mention that my mom treated me to the most gorgeous bra I have ever owned and cute panties to match (thanks, Mom!).  I’m tellin’ ya — between that and the pedicure I got the other day in a glistening, sparkly red color called "After Sex,"  I’m feeling pretty good.  Today it’s off to MoMA with my Dad and Bill (who has today off from his job for something called "Brooklyn/Queens Day"), then The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee tonight.  Not quite as sexy, but great fun, nonetheless.

Part of the plan this week during my time off is to clean house and get organized.  I’ve admitted to myself that I most likely won’t get to cleaning out my closets (although I am buying more hangers and an over-door shoe rack), but I am starting to go through the many piles of paper that seem to creep their way into my life.  Recently, I have become obsessed with an organizational/personal productivity blog called 43Folders.  Not only am I trying to adopt some of their tips and tricks to get organized, but I have been reading David Allen’s Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productivity, which is referenced frequently on 43Folders (note — the title of the blog is a nod to a month/date tickler file — a key instrument in staying on top of things).  I went out and bought a box of manilla folders and a label-maker (my new best friend), and I have already tidied up a huge stack that was hogging up the very limited free space on my desk.

After spending hours purging files and filing/archiving email before I left Pro Bono Net, I realized that part of the beauty of a new job is a clean slate — I figure that I should get organized at home so that when I start work, I am already starting off with good better organizational habits.  Any tips/tricks from the peanut gallery on how to get and stay organized and productive?

Today is the first day of two weeks off before I start the new job.  After a great weekend, which included a celebratory glass of prosecco at Otto with the Lovely Miss Katie, a Mets game with Tien and Neil from Gothamist, dinner with Philip and Dennis, my friend Stephen’s initiation to Dodgeball, a bike ride (first of the season — pathetic) with Erika, a drink with Nathan, and dinner at BLT Fish with Rob, I slept late today and am ready to start my week.  I’ve got some spa treatments, a haircut, various and sundry errands, visits from parents, museums, a play, and shopping for some new clothes (business casual — any suggestions?) on the agenda.  Mostly, it’s just good to have some down time.  I do have some other projects on the plate, one of which I’ll discuss later, and one of which is bulking up on Gothamist posts — I want to have some spares in the hopper in case work gets busy.  Next week I’ll be heading to Fire Island for a week, doing my best to unplug and unwind.  I do have one bit of work to finish up for Pro Bono Net (grrrr), but at least I can do it from home . . .

While I’m busy coughing up a storm and enjoying my raspy voice (well, not so much anymore), I’ve been winding down at Pro Bono Net, where I’ve worked for the past five and a half years.  My last day is today.  Given my new job (which is, by the way, Manager of Pro Bono Administration at a large law firm — email me if you want to know which one), I’ll still get to cross paths with many of the same people I’ve gotten to know professionally over the years.  I’m very thankful for this — my favorite part of my job has always been the people, whether they’re full-time legal services attorneys, dedicated to improving legal services to the poor, or law firm pro bono coordinators, trying to increase volunteer participation — they are all committed to making sure that those in need are getting legal help.  These people are dedicated, passionate, interesting, friendly, and caring, and they have been great about looking out for me along the way. 

It’s so hard to realize that, after tomorrow, I will no longer be lspirer(at)probono.net — for years people recognized me by my email address, as I sent emails regarding the 9/11 legal relief efforts to thousands of lawyers for several years after the disaster.  And it’s sad to leave my co-workers at Pro Bono Net.  They have been a part of my daily life for the past five years.  But — they can’t get rid of me that easily.  I’m going to stay involved in a site we created to support people who run the day-to-day administration of pro bono programs at law firms (like I’m going to be!).  It’s the end of an era, though.  I’ve been there longer than anyone other than the two co-founders, and I’ve worked at Pro Bono Net longer than I’ve ever done anything else (or at least anything work-related).  I’m looking forward to continuing the career path I seem to have carved out for myself, but right now, I’m mostly looking forward to the two weeks I have off in between jobs. . .

Sorry — a cheap ploy to grab your attention, given the recent announcement.  I couldn’t resist.  But this post is, in fact, about my throat, or more accurately my voice, which is pretty much trashed now for the third day in a row due to a cough and a very loud and a little-too-high-for-me rendition of "We Belong" out at the beach house.  I have to admit, I’m getting a kick out of the raspiness of my voice — it sounds different, thicker, sexy.  Then again, I also sound a bit like my Grandma Cookie, who smoked unfiltered cigarettes for the majority of her life.  If it wasn’t for this annoying cough and my inability to sing along to my iPod when I’m walking down the street (which I do all the time), I wouldn’t mind hanging on to this voice for a while.

Break out your swine band-aids, because it’s that time of year again.  Last week, walking around the city, I saw women everywhere, leaning against buildings and lampposts or just sitting at their desks applying band-aids to the war wounds caused by the onset of spring, or more specifically, the inclusion of summer shoes into our wardrobes.  Why do we do this?  Every year, we go through a period of pain, blisters, moleskin, neosporin and bandages, and for what?  Cute shoes.  I am one of the least "girly" girls I know, but even some of my flip-flops mangle my feet for a few wearings before I get used to them again.  Despite the pain, we press on, until our tender feet, having hibernated for the winter under fuzzy socks, toughen up again — a price they must pay to get a little sunshine.

(Believe it or not, those are my shoes.  Yes, I know they’re pink.  No, I haven’t lost my mind.)