Dinner Coversation

PR bought a ridiculous copper fork a few weeks ago. It matches none of our flatware, but he insisted he needed it, so we brought it home. Last night we had a quick dinner because I've been studying like crazy for the last week. PR was eating dinner with his new fork and it punched a hole through his take out box. He looked up at me with surprise and fear in his eyes and said--with a totally straight face, "This is a fork to be reckoned with!"

Jesus help me.

This is called foreshadowing, folks:

Carol Leifer, in her new/hilarious book, faced a critical dilemma and had only two options: either continue sharing her greatest childhood memory (seeing the Beatles at Shea Stadium in 1966) or lie about her age. She made the inevitable choice:

“I see now that when you deny your age, you deny yourself, and when you lie about your age, you become your inauthentic twin. But most important, when you lie about your age, they win. (And of course by ‘they,’ I mean the terrorists).”

This is the kind of book I will be writing after I fail the ethics section of the bar three times and am prohibited from practicing law. Assuming they haven't won yet. And of course by 'they,' I, too, mean the terrorists.

10:00am, Saturday

PR: We should order a pizza!!

11:56am, Saturday

PR is dipping his strawberries in ranch dip. Turns and says to me "How did I get mustard under my fingernails?"

Preparing to lock myself in the office with 16 pounds of salt water taffy and a three week supply of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Drinking extra fluids so I can cry without becoming dehydrated when I cannot answer exam questions about 28 USC 1367/proximate cause/Horizontal & Vertical Privity/Dormant Commerce Clause/Parol Evidence Rule.

In sum, I'm hoping to be hit by a bus before April 28.

It's the eve of the last week of classes. Today I bought I wireless printer, two black ink cartridges, and another 40 packages of recycled paper. Outlines commence. Starting to hum 'Rocky' theme song incessantly. Nearly on a first name basis with the paper driller at Kinko's.

Exams season is upon us. Let the countdown begin.

I have no idea what I am doing with my career. I don't know what classes to take, how many hours to attempt, or how to schedule my classes so they don't all occur on the same day and time. Trying to register for classes is the hardest thing I've done all semester. So either registering is really difficult, I am really dumb, or I have been total slacker this year.

Take your pick.

Taco Meat's Idol:

Getting Shafted.

I learned today about some of the economic woes in the legal world. Several of the big firms around the country have revoked clerkship offers and instead proposed to pay their 2L clerks $5,000 NOT TO WORK this summer. There must have been some misunderstanding, because these big firms also told me that I could not work for them this summer.

But no one offered me $5,000.

Clearly there has been some sort of mistake.

Justice Served

I had a meeting today to get to know the Justice I'll be working with this summer. I was a little nervous. I was afraid I would get to the boardroom and shout out "I AM HERE FOR JUSTICE!!" I was also afraid this was all just a trick to get me in front of a magistrate for my outstanding warrants. (Just kidding, mom.)

In all honesty, I expected him to be announced by trumpets. I waited for him waltz in with a flowing black robe, white powdered wig, and maybe a halo. There was no music. He wore a sweater and fancy socks. Then he served up some magic tricks and talked about his dog.

I think we'll get along just fine.

Thoughts...

It's Easter weekend and I was conned in to coming down to the lake house to spend time with my (alleged) family. Which is all fun and games except that MY EXAMS START IN TWO WEEKS AND ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS THAT FABIO HORSE. I've holed up in one of our cottages to try to study, but I just keep reading my past blog posts, drinking inordinate amounts of coffee, and giggling at my cleverness (someone's got to do it). The more I look at my blog, the more I think to myself: Why be a lawyer when you can write fascinating and hilarious blogs and make tens and tens of dollars off of advertising revenue? This revelation made me ponder a related question: Is it too late to drop out?

The answer is yes. Because in other news, I have now secured three summer internships. Overly ambitious? Maybe. Possible? Definitely--if I can find a way to order No-Doze in bulk and preemptively put myself on a waiting list for a new kidney or three. I blame School of Law. They made us all panic and believe we wouldn't be able to get anything, so I interviewed for pretty much anything I could find. Then I accepted all and any offers. So this summer, for all you inquiring minds, I'll be a research assistant for the Intellectual Property and International Trade Forum, a legal intern for the EEOC, and a judicial intern for a very lucky Justice on the Texas Court of Appeals.

I'll also be dead by June.

Intsead of Outlining...

Doesn't this horse look like Fabio? He makes me think to myself, "I can't believe it's not butter!" He also makes me think to myself, "How am I going to explain that I failed torts because I was looking at Fabio horse all day?"

But I like the butter thought better.

Irony

"The single most litigated issue today is arbitration."
--Contracts Prof

Found out this weekend that the g-mail lab I wrote about was an April Fools joke. Am crestfallen. And out for blood.

In class, we all tend to rely on others when we get called on and don't know the answer.

Today, I was betrayed.

My friend whispered to me that the answer to a particular question was "dirt."

So I shouted "Dirt!" Professor looked confused. In an effort to save face I scrambled to find a suitable answer. So I added, "And sticks!"

As you can probably guess, "Dirt! And sticks!" was not the correct answer. Class erupted in laughter. The answer, for those who are interested was "A full transfer of interest."

I think I should get some credit here, I was close.

Law School Rots the Brain

In Property. Talking about covenants and servitudes that run with the land.

Friend: Speaking of running, Run DMC was just indicted to the rock and roll hall of fame
Me: (Confused look)
Friend: Shit. INDUCTED. They were inducted.

Dear G-Mail,
Thanks for the burst of loud laughter during property. Pretty sure I had this conversation with my therapist once. Yes, we email.
Don't judge me,
Your faithful emailer



(Actually, I found this as an example of one of the capabilities of new a g-mail lab development. They are working on a new program that can write emails for you automatically based on previous communications. If G-mail can make this work, it would save me a lot of time thinking of the most convincing lies I can tell to my close friends and family. I love you, g-mail. And I love you, g-mail writers. And I love you, friends and family.)