A Day In the Life

11:00 AM, Property class:

I know nothing about the Tragedy of the Commons because I cannot concentrate in class. I cannot concentrate in class because my favorite candidate for arm-sawing is wearing a purple striped tank top. I repeat, HE IS WEARING A TANK TOP. And his very curly chest hairs are peeking out at me.

Barf.

12:21 PM, Lunch:

...Perusing emails rather than being productive...

"Monday is 'Labor Day.' Spending a day on a jet ski at the lake is not 'labor.' Thinking about contracts – that is labor, a labor of love."
--email from contracts professor

1:00 PM:

Pete tells me the proper term for curly chest hairs is "taco meat."

Double barf.

2:00 PM, Criminal Law:

Make mental notes not to date the men in the class who think that a woman who was abused for 17 years should have stayed in the marriage.

Granted, they suggested this instead of killing the husband. But I say go for it...especially if your husband constantly shows taco meat.

4:00PM, Library:

I realize men are men, no matter what the setting or level of education. The perpetual refusal to ask directions resulted in the members of my group wandering around the library just hoping to run across the proper volume of the proper reference book. It's safe to say they were lost. Until I insited we use the online catologue.

The assignment was considerably easier after that. Imagine.

6:00, Reading Assignments:

Snooze.

8:00, TV:

Passed out watching law and order (the original, obviously). It's both my favorite show and best sedative.

11:00, bar:

In an uncharacteristic fashion, I get black-out drunk. I'd love to blog more about it, but I don't remember.

Barf.
(Really this time)

Supreme Slang

"A synonym for carry in this sense is to 'pack heat.' Criminals who 'pack heat' are obviously much more dangerous than those who do not..."

United States v. Foster

United States Court of Appeals, Ninth Circuit, 1998

133 F.3d 704

I don't know about you, but I take my cues from the Justices of the Supreme Court. Looks like the term 'packing heat' is much hipper than I originally thought.

On that note, I'm off to pack some.

(...heat)

I'll saw your arm off

First of all, let me start this by saying I'm listening to the Eagle's greatest hits. If I write something you find offensive in this post, take comfort in ridiculing my taste in music.

Now.

Pete used to work at this store where a serial killer once purchased a carving knife for one of his victims. Actually, said killer tried to purchase it at Pete's store, but they were out of stock, so the killer had to go to another store near by. I need Pete to get that job back so I can appropriate the carving knife (at an employee discount, I'm a poor grad student, let's not forget) for legal purposes.

Alright, the purposes would not be legal per se but the purposes would be served in a legal environment. What I'm getting at here is that I'm going to have to saw off some arms if the students in my classes don't stop raising them. I'm tired of all the inane questions, irrelevant comments, and reminders to the professor that we actually have fifteen more minutes of class if he wants to expand on the history of torts in the 16th century. Here's a memo for all you overeager, panting puppies: No one gives a shit what you think. Especailly you, skinny white guy in the white V-neck undershirt and gangster chain. Are you going to go home and beat your wife after this? Don't answer that.

Listen, all that matters is what the professor says. He/She is not going to remember who you are and think you're smart and hug you in the halls. At most he/she will think you've done the reading. Right before he/she forgets your name. So put your hands down and use them to frantically take notes and turn pages like the rest of us.

Don't make me get out my carving knife.

The Learning Curve

I used to be the student who ruined the curve for everyone else. Now I'm in class with 100 of those students. After hours of reading and note taking, I sit down in class feeling confident until the guy next to me opens his mouth and says something smart about the Restatment 2d Contracts & US UCC Article 2.

I grasp at words to respond. I crack a joke that seemed funnier before I said it. I start sweating. I smile (probably with food in my teeth.) I concede defeat.

If only the practice of law were more akin to Murphy's law, I'd be brilliant. It's going to be a long three years.