I fought the law and the law won...

I finally got a few of my exams back. My A- paper has more criticisms than my B- paper. About five times more criticisms. How in the world does this grading system work? I'm starting to suspect that my professors hole up in their offices and pull grades out of a hat. Then they arbitrarily assign them to students based on one of several available word association games. After they finish (this takes about 20 minutes) they all go out to happy hour and revel in our anticipation and inevitable disappointment.

And that my friends, is how I ended up with a B average and an inferiority complex. Strangely, it's also how I ended up with Chlamydia.

Kidding.

I think I would be a happier person if I were given tranquilizing blow darts. That way in class I could just shoot them at unsuspecting victims, or in an alternate situation, myself. Donations welcome.

Bad InFLUence

Pete has the flu. And I know I really love him because I have been lying in bed with him all day risking my health, happiness, and good reputation. And also watching what 10 hours of what I have deemed 'the coma channel.' Let's review the risks:

Health: This I can handle. Just today my doctor friend promised to unscrupulously prescribe me medication over the phone based on my self-diagnoses. And besides, as I've previously mentioned, the more disease I can spread, the higher my ranking will rise.

Happiness: They make drugs for this. I know because I crush them up and mix them in my martinis every morning...and evening.

Reputation: Let's face it, if you've read anything on this website, I'm already screwed.

Coma: I've had practice with this in Torts class. Being in a coma might even be an improvement. Here's to hoping.

WTF?

In contracts we were discussing a case about chickens. Then a giant chicken burst in to the class squaking up a storm. It was my terrifying Constitutional Law professor. I believe I either need glasses or mind-stabilizing drugs.

Stuck in contracts. Throat on fire. Don't want to be here, BUT if I can get 5 other students sick, I can probably move up on the curve. Who shall I hug first?

...Taco Meat?

A Different Perspective

Note: After paying $18k for an unseen mangy stray dog, I'm out for a bargain...

Me: Every Tuesday they have 1/2 off hamburgers at Goff's
P: We should go!
Me: Yeah, but it was packed today.
P: No kidding, they're giving away half a hamburger for free!

Dear Law School,

What a clever business model you have: You released my grades the day after I paid tuition. No matter that I sit firmly in the middle of the class. No matter that I was totally shafted by my CrimLaw professor. I have just dished out another 18k to you and there is nothing I can do about it. I feel like I just paid 18k for a mangy stray dog. A mangy stray dog I never even got to see before it was purchased. When (if) I graduate, please don't call me for a donation or to inform me that you're revoking my degree because of the terrible things I wrote about you on my blog. I've already given you my money, my sanity, and possibly my soul.

I'm keeping the dog.

Sincerely,
C

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

There was a time in my life when I considered myself a mountaineer. I mean, I did once spend a few weeks during the summer in the Rockies. And last winter I skied in the Andes. And hiked up a glacier. And when I was in the Pyrenees I slept in a one-man tent with two men, one pillow, and a bottle (or seven) of vodka...But that's another story. Yes, I was a self-proclaimed mountain-(wo)man. That is until Monday.

The gym at the school has a giant rock wall and post-workout I somehow stumbled in to a harness and on to a rope. I should have known from the start that I was destined for failure. First of all, I'm pretty sure my spotter/instructor was Mathlete/Badass MC Kevin G. from Mean Girls. I'm sure he enjoyed the lumpy harnessed view of my rear as I struggled above him. But that wasn't all he had to enjoy.

I am too short for climbing sports. The pegs on the rock wall on are spaced for a person of average height and proportion. If you've had the pleasure of laying eyes on me, you know I don't quite fit that description. If you haven't had the pleasure of laying eyes on me, picture a miniature pear trying to climb up a rock wall. I'm serious.

I could get one leg up (yes!) and then the other (YES!!!) But as far as reaching upward to grab a higher peg, I fell about three inches short every time. Not to be discouraged, I would jump a little. While flying through the air I would attempt a futile grasp at the holds. But instead of clinging to the wall victoriously, I would generally slide downward while tiny KG struggled to remain on the floor and balance my weight on the other end of the rope.

Perhaps the highlight of the night (at least for Pete, who was watching) was when I attempted one of my famous air hurdles found myself hanging in the air instead of coming back down to the ground as gravity intended. KG was below urging me to try to swing back to the wall, grab on to a hold, and keep trying. So I swung in the air with my tightly harnessed rear flapping in the breeze like an orangutan on meth until KG finally mercifully lowered me to the ground. Only I forgot to stand up ,so I was lowered all the way on to my bottom. (Thanks feet!)

Humiliated after approximately three minutes worth of failed attempts, I demanded to be unhooked and taken home. KG abided. Pete stifled his laughter. I forgot about it.

...Until I asked a friend of mine at school if she had ever tried to rock climb. She hadn't. Because a long line of treadmills are right in front of the rock wall. And people on treadmills have nothing to look at. Except swinging orangutans failing miserably in a doomed quest for rock-stardom.

I'll be there tomorrow with a tip jar...and a bag over my head.

Thoughts after a night of failed studies:

I think maybe there should be a lotion commerical featuring Jay-Z. "I got 99 problems but an itch ain't one."

Catchy.

I give a whole new meaning to 'rent control'

So I found out during exams (great timing, life) that the landlord is selling the house Pete and I are living in. Turns out they have to honor our lease, but the initial realization was traumatizing. It's a bad time to be selling, but there has already been some interest. Today, just as I arrived home from class, some potential buyers were getting ready to poke around my apartment. Yay. They walked in and said, "Wow! This place is so artistic, are you in the arts?"

Yes. The legal arts. The art of lying, stealing, and strong arming you in to lowering my rent.

Innocent blinking ensues.

Just Shoot Me.

"The parol evidence rule is the 2-207 of this semester."
--Contracts Professor.

I hate you, UCC 2-207.
I hate you, parol evidence.
And most of all, I. hate. you. contracts.

I cannot listen in Constitutional Law for three reasons:

1. The mutant in front of me has some serious pagent hair. I cannot see over or around it.
2. The mutant behind me has a computer that constantly sounds like it's about to launch in to deep space.
3. Talking about the constitution makes me feel suicidal: I could die of boredom.

But mostly its the hair and the launching electonics.

I'll be interning at Luby's this summer

What not to do at a 1L Firm Reception:

1. Drink three glasses of white wine, and
2. Start confusing strangers for friends, and
3. Pile a timy appetizer plate with three layers of food, and
4. Stumble over your words, including
5. Your name, and
6. The name of the firm, and
7. The name of the person you're talking to, and
8. Try to run away and find a chair to nap in when you realize you've had too much.

In sum total, don't be "that guy." And anyway, that role is taken...by me.