The Return of Hope During the Recession: Adventures at The Ashram (Part II)
[Ed. note: This post is authored by ATL guest columnist Hope Winters. Hope is an early retired lawyer, turned Senate staffer, turned corporate lobbyist. She lives in Washington, DC. Read her previous work here. Read part I of this piece here.]
After this dinner I’m still starving from, we hop into the car to drive to the purported “private” room we paid extra for. Now I’m really starting to believe murder or rape is a foregone conclusion. I attract criminals like Jewish men attract Asian girls. And here’s the thing, there’s nothing to stop anyone from doing anything. We’re not allowed to lock either our door nor the front door to the Brady Brunchesque house we will be staying in tonight. Our “private” room is in this house. I said a private room. Like hotel room. Not a room in some random family’s house. Not some room I’m not allowed to lock.
As I enter the spacious open living room containing a lot blue mats and a lot small purple chairs for meditation, I find a DVD player. Excellent. Civility. I’ll just do my Denise Austin Yoga for Abs video and skip class tomorrow. It’s almost pitch black in the room because not only do these people not eat, they don’t do electricity.
I walk over to the big glass window peering out over the water — trying to find the lake, and then, I hear this boy’s voice.
“Hey.” I turn around quickly.
Plaid flannel shirt. Black wire rimmed glasses. Scruffy beard. Red North Face jacket. So Ted Bundy.
I have met my maker.
Can Hope survive her first encounter with Ashram men? Non-homicidal details after the jump.
“Hi.” I smile. “Aren’t you not supposed to be talking to me?” I take two steps back. (Where in the hell is Olivia?)
“We’re allowed to talk here at the house.” He comes closer to me.
“Are you sure?” I look at him quizzically. I kind of want to talk to him even though he may kill me or rape me. He’s a wackadoo. I can tell. He’s got a story.
I want the story.
“How long have you been here?” I ask him the question a new prisoner would ask an old timer.
“Oh, I just got here yesterday.”
“And what do you think? Do you like it?” I whisper … just in case they are listening.
“Oh yeah. It’s phenomenal.” He stretches his arms up to the sky and arches his back.
“What’s so phenomenal about it?” I don’t understand these people. I want inner peace! I can’t get it! Why can’t I get it?
“Everything. It’s just awesome.”
“Like what?” I want specifics. “Like what have you done today?”
“Well today, I slept. And then I went to yoga.”
“You slept? You paid to come here and sleep?”
“Yeah. Well. To rest, you know.”
“You could’ve done that at home.”
“No, really. You can’t. It’s so peaceful here. You can’t get that kind of rest in the city.”
“Yes, you can. I’ll give you a Lunesta.” I roll my eyes.
I turn to walk toward the window trying to find the big white Lotus temple. He’s annoying me. He came here to sleep? Total slacker.
“Well, you can hike tomorrow. The lake is really pristine. Just beautiful.”
“Aren’t you cold?” I rub my hands. “It’s freezing in this house.”
“No. You just need a lot of blankets.” Mental note to self. Get ten.
He goes on to tell me about his weird job as a Dining Captain of some exclusive women’s club and about all the shallow women who drink Chardonnay at lunch and pretend the world financial markets haven’t collapsed. (He’s kind of talking about me and my friends.) He goes on to tell he opted not to get employer-sponsored health insurance because such insurance didn’t include yoga. Is he a moron? What health insurance plan covers yoga? Insurance companies barely cover surgeries and C-sections these days.
I’m over him. I admit it. He kind of has a Walt Whitman thing going. And I was kind of hoping he could be my Deepak and we’d hook up breaking the all the rules about sexual detachment. (I could actually go for an Ashram scandal). But this isn’t worth it. I’m over Transcendentalism now. I’d rather go sleep with Olivia. So I bolt.
I eat a Luna bar. I pop a Lunesta. I pop a muscle relaxer. My neck hurts from the Dining Captain. I go to the bathroom like nine times because I’ve had like ten liters of water.
Day 2
When I wake up, I am 100 percent certain that I have walking pneumonia. My chest is boney, and it aches; my feet are the color of violets. This isn’t humane. I tried six blankets Mr. Dining Captain, and I still can see my breath. I mean I did not come here to end up in a hospital. This is not Love In The Time of Hypothermia.
“I am freezing! Let’s get the hell out of here. I’m done.” I start packing my bag.
“Well, let me see if Prini will fix it. I’ll go talk to her.” Olivia has lost her mind from the Artic wind.
“Are you kidding me? These granolas aren’t going to fix this! They like peace, and we are whiners. Spoiled brat city girls. That’s what they’re going to think. You know people hate us.” I throw my green tea exfoliator into my bag.
“Let’s just go. They can keep their money. I’m saving myself anyway because I won’t have to go to the ER now for hypothermia or rape from the Dining Captain.”
We argue. We sit on the twin beds. We reflect. We hug. We cry. The
Ashram is testing us in ways we never expected because we really are spoiled brat little princesses. I’m just like Social Security - an entitlement.
But today, we decide. We’re going to be open-minded. We’re going give Jonestown one more try. I declare myself unshowered and refuse to wash my hair or shave my legs. I’m going Native.
Then I remember. They don’t have coffee here.
I’m two things and two things consistently: i) a drunk-arexic (I drink all my calories and skip meals), and ii) a caffeineaholic (must have a least two Grandes per day).
“Olivia,” I gently pull her elbow as we exit Mike Brady’s house. “Can you do one favor for me?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Don’t wig out okay? Promise? Listen … . I really need a coffee.” I whisper lest they hear I’m leaving the compound for moonshine.
“You think you could drive me up to that heehaw gas station down the street? I’ll jump out really fast. Promise.”
“Okay. No problem.” She acquiesces. Wow. Olivia is pliable. The Ashram is getting to her and so not to me. I can so get what I want out of her now.
As we drive down the circular dirt road, Olivia, a paranoid schizophrenic by nature, slow downs the car. “Look, Hope! Look at all those hunters! All these freaking hunters! With dogs too. What are they doing?”
I crane my neck out of the car window. Camouflaged outfits, big dogs, guns in hand. I don’t know. I think the whole thing is pretty hot.
“They’re just hunters. Big deal. Hey, I think the gas station is right there.”
Two really big men with guns and dogs are exiting the station as we pull up in the granola girl Hybrid.
“This is freaky, Hope. I’m not going in.” She stops the car. Oh please. She’s from Texas. Like she hasn’t seen a hunter.
“No worries. I’ll be right back.” I’m not scared. These are my peeps.
They have cups of Joe and are smoking. God I so want a cigarette. But I quit. And I supposed to be detoxing.
I get the coffee, and we bolt. Ah. I’m waking up. I just want to go to fetus yoga again, but Olivia has to suddenly stop. The dogs are wandering aimlessly through the woods - and the hot hunters are trailing behind them.
“Oh, good lord. Can you stop with the hunters? They are just killing deer. There are too many of them anyway.” I slide into my seat, turn up the music and close my eyes as she whips out her camera.
“No. That’s not it. Do you see all these trees? All these trees that are cleared? What the hell is going on here?”
“Hey sweets, this isn’t a Greenpeace weekend. This is a detox inner peace weekend. Now, chop chop. Let’s get back to the Shram. We can maybe hit the ten o’clock class.”
But oh no. The crunchy enviro who has some ocean listed as her life insurance policy beneficiary has to go out and document the clearing. I sip my gasoline coffee and let her take her photos. Who is she going to send these to by the way? The General Counsel of The Environmental Defense Fund? Who is going to save the trees?
Answer: No one. Let’s roll.
The quest to find enlightenment during the recession continues later this week.
Earlier: The Return of Hope During the Recession: Adventures at The Ashram (Part I)
(52) Comments
Comments
worst
Um, I think you meant to say "like Asian girls attract Jewish men" and not the reverse. The zeal with which white guys pursue Asian women is disheartening. And I'm an Asian woman.
really really awful.
Did A-Rex help write this?
Here's a Jewish WOMAN's take on something else:
http://www.carolineglick.com/e/2009/06/the-obama-effect.php
What else isn't getting into your liberal echo chambers?
Not one interesting post today. Thanks for nothing.
Huh?
Friendly advice --
If your life is so empty and you seek fulfillment, I suggest this:
Dharma Initiative.
Ann Arbor.
Call 1-800-866-DHARM for a job wearing jumpsuits somewhere in the Pacific.
Be sure to ask about the shadow of the statue.
Why? Why? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHY ARE YOU INFLICTING THIS TORTURE ON US ELIE?!!!?!
So when does the ATL slash-fiction start up?
Lobster, anyone?
oh shit. not this crap again. i don't think i can take breadline girl and ashram girl in the same day at ATL.
At least "Breadline" is quasi-legal in nature. This god awful crap is uttlerly pointless and has no place on a legal blog.
Really--
I thought that black men were
more attracted to Asian women--
Probably an elective affinity--also may be
regional to LA
This article made the dull duller
WTF? This may be the tipping point where it's more pointless than useful to even check out ATL.
Hope Whimpers
Mad stupid. With lobbyists like this corporate America is screwed. Why does ATL feed into her delusions of grandeur? Oh, I forgot- this site is devoted to such delusions!
Mad stupid. With lobbyists like this corporate America is screwed. Why does ATL feed into her delusions of grandeur? Oh, I forgot- this site is devoted to such delusions!
Paragraph 1
"After this dinner [THAT] I'm still starving from, we hop into the car to drive to the purported "private" room [THAT] we paid extra for."
Paragraph 2
"As I enter the spacious open living room containing a lot [OF] blue mats . . ."
"I go to the bathroom like nine times because I've had like ten liters of water." Are you fucking kidding me? Are you a 12 year old girl?
You suck.
I'm sorry, but this is really bad. She's just not a good writer. The Breadline writer is good, though.
Serious question.
Has Hope ever met a man she didn't think was trying to rape her?
I'm not even joking, I swear to God I'm never reading this column again.
And abovethelaw got scooped by the WSJ Law Blog again on cuts in associate pay at Kaye Scholer. TTT behavior.
This is why the internet is bad. Before, only the poor a-hole who wanted to bang this broad had to feign excitement when faced with the question "Do you wanna read some of my stuff?" (Every guy has at least met one of those).
But now, every bimbette who's watched too much Sex in the City thinks her mindfarts are what will replace Shakespeare in 9th grade reading assignments.
Note: you are not interesting, you're not a snowflake. NO ONE CARES.
Wow... another unfunny Hope Winters story in which precisely nothing happens.
Synopsis: Complained... popped pills... complained... got coffee... looked at trees... had sexual fantasies evidencing deep beta-girl despair... slouched.
If she didn't constantly remind us that she's thin and desperate, nobody would read this tripe.
Please, for all that is holy do not post the next "chapter," I forced myself to read through all of that crap and I really want to kill myself more than a Lathamed '08 grad. What was the point of that whole script? My favorite aspect is that Hope has the same grammar and spelling skills as the typical ATL post:
"Olivia has lost her mind from the Artic wind."
Artic!!?? Really?
"(must have a least two Grandes per day). "
Nice.
For the love of G-D make it stop. Make it stop.
#19 - Hope never worried that Lat was going to rape her.
Why does everyone feel the need to bash Hope? If you don't like her stories, then don't read it! I'm willing to bet that most of you couldn't top Hope's articles. The fact that she's willing to post here doesn't mean that all you haters need to indulge in your immature flames just because (a) you hate your jobs) and (b) you have no life. Get a clue.
28 how would anyone be in a position to like or dislike her stories if they didn't read it?
Trust me, I would have much rather the post come with a warning that said, "Don't read this! It sucks!" It would have saved me that time. It was truly awful, and what's up with her inability to spellcheck? She must have been the shittiest lawyer in the U.S.
28: Above the Law seems to run a set amount of exclusive "content" in addition to news stories. Sometimes, this content has been really good. Other times, like with Hope's articles, it has been very bad. It's safe to assume that if ATL weren't running Hope's stories, they'd solicit for / publish other articles of higher quality.
However, the truth seems to be that Hope is a lightning rod who generates a lot of hits (stopping to view a car crash mentality) and angry feedback. This generates extra ad revenue for ATL, so actually, Hope haters are sadly ensuring that she'll continually be allowed to post articles. Sigh indeed.
Not only is this just flat out bad writing, Hope is a fucking bitch. You get your friend to drive you to the gas station when she doesn't want to and then mock her for doing something on the way that you don't appreciate?
Bitch.
29: maybe this is really is your first time reading one of Hope's articles, in which case you're entitled to whatever opinion you may have. But judging from the comments of others, there are plenty of ATL readers who know they don't like her, they click on the link anyways and then post a negative comment. That's really pathetic. LIke I said, if you've already made your decision to be a Hope hater, don't click on the damn link. Save us all your own internalized angst and do something useful (like getting back to drafting your fake memo for your slave-driving partner). Losers.
Oooh, lookatme lookatme, everyone! Not only did I call Hope a bitch, but I wrote a scathing comment about how much her writing sucks! Ooh, I'm such a badass poster! Lookatme! Lookatme!
ATL needs an ignore button, such that I never have to see claptrap like this again. If there is one thing I cannot stand, it is cattiness that isn't particularly funny (the final aggravating factor is if its coming from a gay dude, which I assume you are not.) If you are going to be smug/sarcastic/bitchy all rolled into one, be funny.
#33 - I don't get it.
"but I wrote a scathing comment about how much her writing sucks!"
Let me fix that for you...
"but I wrote a true comment about how much her writing sucks!"
Her writing would have got her fired as a first year at any legitimate firm. Sloppy, no attention to detail, just drivel.
Gentlemen at the legal preparatory academy with which I was once affiliated, in the course of their preparations for the practice of the profession of law, did on certain instances peruse the contents of certain web logs, such as the one found here. There they encountered a series of publications relating not to the aforementioned practice of law, but to certain meandering new-age pablum, the likes of which had no discernible relation to the law, the practice thereof, or any other subject matter of relevance to those who tend to visit this website. The gentlemen were perplexed, both at the inclusion of this insipid material and at the lack of editorial control exercised thereupon. These events were not considered to be of particular consequence, or otherwise worthy of recollection.
We are all dumber for having read this.
Stupid, and a waste of time.
Please dont try this again.
Why is this on ATL? This is boring. If it involves neither the law nor sex, it shouldn't be on this site.
This shit makes Roxana St. Thomas seem like Jane Fucking Austen.
"i have met my maker"
- no, that's wrong. you meet your maker after you die. you "prepare to meet your maker" when you see your murderer.
"I find a DVD player. Excellent. Civility."
- no, that's wrong. "civility" means "politeness." DVD players aren't polite. Maybe Hope means "civilization" or something?
i'm tired.
When I was in Biglaw, my life was cosmically a shambles. I was using bits and pieces of whatever eastern philosophy would drift through my transom
Talk about bait and switch. I kept waiting for the ass ram part.
1) here you go, roxana haters. you can read this schlock instead.
2) is hope qt?
3) asian girls are so qt.
28 - I realize there's lots of dull lawyers out there, but Hope's stories aren't even "happy hour anecdote" worthy (we called it "Pantsdown", get it?). If you think most people couldn't top these stories, you need to start hanging out with more interesting people.
Guys at my high school used to write amateurish, unfunny, subliterate drivel all the time. It was no big deal.
ATL has jumped the shark with this "series."
4 - did you read the bio of the right wing wackadoodle you linked to? She joined some other country's army and calls liberals un-American? And a country whose spies we've convicted and sent to prison for life? If she's the right wing's idea of "pro-American" then its a damn good thing their in the minority.
The fact that she hates me and all that I stand for (not that her characterizations of that are even in the ballpark of correct) will allow me to sleep soundly tonight and for many nights to come.
Deer killers suck. So does Hope.
I don't know any Jewish guys dating Asian girls...and I'm Jewish with lots of Jewish guy friends in NYC. Great example...
This woman's disgusting whiny entitlement attitude sucks, and so does this column. We wonder why people hate lawyers? There are millions of Americans who can't pay the rent or buy food, and she is complaining about being cold and not getting coffee at her Ashram vacation. The path to inner peace is going to be a particularly long one for this spoiled brat. I am ashamed to be in the same profession as she is.