I tend to love all things Swedish. I was not-so-mildly obsessed with ABBA growing up (after I saw ABBA the Movie on VH1… seriously, I became their biggest fan under 18). Shortly after my college graduation in 2005, I discovered The Sounds while listening to Pandora at work (remember when Pandora was really new and exciting?). A love affair quickly commenced, and I’ve since seen them three times live – whenever they’ve been in NY, and once in Philly. I find their music really empowering – new wave that gets you feeling and moving. I was SOOO excited to find out that they’re playing a show in Brooklyn in a couple of weeks, and it’s a good thing I got tickets early, because they sold out within the day. I feel like a 13-year-old with all the anticipatory excitement I’m feeling. It’s going to be the most fun, awesome dance party, and I’m so excited that I’ve gotten my boyfriend, sister, and other friends into The Sounds, too, because a group dance party is always better than a solo one (but in all honesty, I usually break off to get to the front to see Maja’s amazingness up close). Their shows allow me to morph into a totally uninhibited dance machine, and I cannot wait to feel that exhilaration in just a week and a half.

Check out The Sounds music on My Space (favs: Dorchester Hotel and Ego). The new album drops on March 29, and I’m still allowing the two singles that that have been released to grow on me.

Seriously, I’m so excited. I miss that teeny bopper feeling of excitement to see one of my favorite bands live. It’s refreshing.

This past Friday I took a “flexitarian” cooking class meant to showcase recipes that work for vegetarians (like me), or carnivores (like absolutely everyone else in my life). It was fun and informative. I met an attorney who is planning on quitting her corporate job after a year and a half to pursue her love of cooking. That strengthened my conviction in law school. I worked pretty hard on a creamy root vegetable soup, peeling and chopping three pounds of vegetables for it (root vegetables are tough to chop, people).

See the white yam in the lower lefthand corner? It was gorgeous. It had orange veins running through it. I was in love with it.

Unfortunately, I did not get to enjoy the creamy root vegetable soup. At the very last minute, Chef (that’s what he’s called – not the chef, just Chef) decided it needed a bit more liquid, so he grabbed a pan of duck renderings and poured it into the soup. And so it flexed on into carnivore territory. It was a little annoying. I griped to my attorney friend. Nonetheless, there was a ton more food to eat. So much, in fact, that I waddled around for the rest of the night with a food baby. It was fun.

Some of the spread. That tomato soup with goat cheese crouton did, in fact, remain vegetarian (or so we were told...).

The plate looked bigger in real life. I think it had a 14-inch diameter, no joke.

Mmmm food. Cooking. Food babies. Bagels. TV. How I’ve missed all the things that tickle my fancy…

{Oh, you like my dress? This lil ole thing?}

I cannot get enough of Blake Lively’s outfit. She wore it to the dinner that Chanel hosted for her (oh yeah, no big deal, just going to some dinner organized by Chanel, the sole purpose of which is to honor me) on Wednesday night at La Grenouille. I love how the structural shape of the dress, especially in the shoulders, contrasts so well with the flowy add-ons (which I’m not generally a fan of). LOVE the stripes. Her ballet-shoe-inspired Christian Loubs go perfectly with the getup, and of course, the icing on the cake, her matching Chanel bowling bag in iridescent calfskin from the spring-summer 2011 collection. The pop of color in her earrings, her casually swept up hair… This outfit is perfection.

Pure. Unadulterated. Chanel. perfection.

While I’m totally envious of Blake’s gig as the new face of Chanel (hello, free bags!), I’m more jealous that she got to make cake pops with Bakerella.

I have a bad case of spring fever. On the plus side, my mood has been lifted, but on the negative side, my focus has gone to $h!t. I have one day of class and one brief rewrite to complete before I’m officially on spring break (which basically means I officially have no class to interrupt the days of outlining and figuring out what’s been going on in Constitutional Law). It’s a beautiful day outside, and I have the sun shining down on me… from the window I’m next to in the library.

Alas, spring is in the air and I welcome it with open arms. The past few weeks have restored my faith in the belief that good things happen to good people. Things have really been on the up and up, and I am so glad that I’ve been able to achieve certain things without having to play into the law school game. I’ve been honest, truthful, and genuine since the start, all the while knowing that most people around me weren’t. Well, I think it has paid off. Perhaps, even in law school, nice guys don’t finish last.

Life is good. The sun is out, the air is crisp, and I feel lucky and blessed to be able to bask in the splendor that is the cusp of spring… even if it is from inside the library.

Though I did not get to watch the Oscars last night (thankulawschool), I was very happy to find out that Colin Firth won for Best Actor for his work in The King’s Speech. He was just fantastic in the movie, which tells the little-known story of King George VI and his speech therapist (played by Geoffrey Rush, who also deserved to take home an Oscar).

I’ve loved Colin Firth for quite a while [hello, Mr. Darcy (and can we note that he also played Mark Darcy in Bridget Jones' Diary. How many Mr. Darcys can one play??)]. Last year, he made Christopher Isherwood’s A Single Man come alive on the screen, and did an amazing job as George. The only thing is, around the time he started doing press for A Single Man last year, I noticed that there was something off about his face. I’m pretty sure he got it pulled or smoothed or something unnatural, and it disappoints me a little. I really think men should just leave their faces alone. Especially for male actors above the age of 40 – eventually, they’re going to want a little character in their characters.

Ah well, congratulations Mr. Firth. Well deserved.

Photo from Toothpaste for Dinner.

End of the month. Time to pay rent. Isn’t it a wee bit unfair that February only has 28 days yet rent rates are the same? There should be a special exception for February.

This, however, is one RENT I am so super excited for.

Manny Fernandez, NYT

Photo currently featured on the New York Times homepage, from the article, “Now in Brooklyn, Homegrown Tobacco: Local, Rebellious, and Tax Free.” This [oh-so-attractive and vibrant looking] woman lives in Marine Park and has to be careful where she steps in her basement so as not to jeopardize one of her precious tobacco leaves. Oh yeah, and her stack of old Springsteen records. Go figure.

Dislike. Let’s see more articles dedicated to some healthier pursuits, thank you.

Boom boom boom. Even brighter than the moon moon moon.

Apologies, once again. It’s that who law school thing that’s gotten in the way of my life/health/happiness and all that. Second semester’s come in like a raging bull, full of writing assignment and the pressures of securing a summer job.

I’ll be back, though. Once my motion for summary judgment is turned in (on Valentine’s day, no less) and I catch up on all the reading I’ve been neglecting (that’s what I’ll be doing on Valentine’s day evening), I plan on filling you up with lots of fun cooking and baking adventures, and anything else that tickles my fancy.

In fact, I’d like to share a little story with you. Yesterday, while waiting for the subway to take me to an oh-so-fun legal career fair, I witnessed a girl – a total brat – come through the subway turnstile, tear up her single ride Metrocard, and drop the little pieces on the platform. There was a garbage can no less than four feet behind her. Now, I gave plenty of nasty looks and really tried to bite my tongue, but I could not. I gave her a piece of my mind. It resulted in a screaming match, and I all of a sudden became quite patriotic, shouting “this is my city! I want it kept clean – it’s people like you who dirty it up! Why should someone else have to bend down and pick up your trash?!”

It was fun. Mostly because the total brat was being a brat, and I’m decked out in suit and heels reminding myself that if I take this too far I could place my future legal career in jeopardy.

But it felt good. It felt grand. And if there were more people on the platform, I believe there may have even been some applause.