Thursday, March 31, 2005

A sad day

Ladies and gentlemen, today was a sad day in American history. Today an icon died.

Small people who who personify huge ideas are few and far between, and they deserve our respect. So please, join me in a moment of silence...

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Thank you.

Comedian Mitch Hedberg, dead today at the age of 37.

Oh yeah, Terri Schiavo died today too, and the Pope might still. Stay tuned for that one, I guess.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Law School Spring Break 2005, part 3

The final installment of Law School Spring Break 2005. (See also parts one and two.)

Friday
Last year:
Started the long trek back home. Stopped by Luke’s house in Tennessee again to eat and relax a little, and for some reason Leonard, who is really just a big, dumb, lovable animal decides he wants to ride a horse, and manages to rip his jeans from ankle to crotch in the process. Before we leave someone must have hit the wayback machine and taken us to 1880, because Mule pulled aside Luke to ask if he would object to Mule becoming pen pals with Luke’s sister.
This year: Hoo boy. You ever been on a donkey round-up? Of course you haven’t. What was I thinking? See, one of the things about living on a donkey farm is that sometimes the little buggers get out. Fences break or gates get left open, whatever. Normally this doesn’t cause much of a problem, because they really don’t have any desire to go anywhere. You just grab some grain and shake it at them, and they come running to the sweet sound of molasses, and you put them back in. But Friday, we ran into a little problem. As with any livestock, you have to keep the boy-donkeys and girl-donkeys separate, so you don’t have babies popping up all the time, and when you do have babies, you know where they came from. Well, the girl-donkeys managed to hop over a downed rail and get into the pasture right next to the boy-donkeys. And before we could round them up, one of the boy-donkeys managed to force his way through the fence and start chasing the girl-donkeys around the pasture. Now, I know these are miniature donkeys, but they’re not really that small, and when they get running, you’re not going to be able to step between them. So now Buster is chasing Cinnamon all over the pasture while the other boy-donkey is trying to bust through the fence and 17 other girl-donkeys are just beside themselves both because they’re out of their own pasture and because they don’t want Buster to start chasing them, and my little brother and I have no idea what to do. OK, that’s not true – we know exactly what we need to do, but neither of us has any desire to interrupt an equine mating ritual. (I mean, would you want to get anywhere near donkey dick? I didn’t think so.) Eventually my mother showed up and restored order (amazingly, they all know their names, but only when she calls them), and just in time too. Turns out that Cinnamon is actually Buster’s mom, so that would have been one messed-up baby donk. Oh yeah, and I finally managed to talk Sprint into reducing (but not waiving) the early termination fee for their retarded service. I now have a shiny new Verizon phone that actually works everywhere I go. In a delicious twist of fate, I no longer have to say, “Can you hear me now?”

Saturday
Last year:
Had lunch with my fiancée again on the way back through Cincinnati. Couldn’t resist hassling some pimply-faced kids at the gas station who had just purchased 12 cases of Diet Pepsi by shouting, “hey, party tonight, huh guys?!” They didn’t get it.
This year: My parents and little brother went to Hilton Head for the week, so I spent the morning repairing the fences and feeling pleased with my farmer-ness. On my way downtown to watch basketball with some friends, I swung through Burger King to try the TCBCR. It was pretty good, except for the bacon – I should have expected this, since I worked at Burger King in high school, and knew that the bacon was not real bacon, and would be warmed up in a microwave instead of fried in a pan. But if I just had a TCTCR (tender crisp tomato cheddar ranch), it would have been outstanding. Something to think about.

Sunday was spent in transit back to the ‘Nati, so that’s all she wrote. Which one do you think was better?

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Dear Kentucky, Please take Granville back, Love, Ohio

There is a little town that sits geographically just east of Columbus called Granville, home of Denison University. However, Lewis and Clark must have screwed up somehow when they mapped Granville in Ohio. It's obvious that this place is the bastard child of Kentucky. While the residents of Granville haven't turned to sleeping with relatives quite yet, they are fervent fans of NASCAR, so they can't be too far away from boinking their cousins.

As I drove down highway 13, inching closer and closer to the paradise lost that is Granville, all I could think about was how much the people here must love to drink. Really, the closest "attraction" is the BP in Mt. Vernon (15 minutes away) that has a Duchess Shop. If you got really drunk, maybe you'd forget that you lived in a town ripe to be featured on the next "Simple Life". Also, due to the large number of carcasses roadside, another big hobby of Granvillians must be running over small animals with a car. It's no surprise that the people of Granville mix their two hobbies often. While I couldn't confirm the latter hobby, I got first hand knowledge of the former, drinking.

Friday night in Granville is like whoa. Think of the craziest party you've ever been to, then double it, no triple it, then add a little bit of a country accent. When you are done doing that, subtract all the people save for 20 or so, then subtract all intelligence, decent alcohol, and civility, then add basically all you can drink PBR (Pabst Blue Ribbon, for the uninitiated), and you have Granville.

The night started off right with a few wins on the pool table. However, when we finally lost, I pointed out that the guy had missed the 8-ball completely with his first shot, which technically meant he had lost the game. After he told me to "get the rule book of pool", my buddy informed him that he was a douchebag, and I concurred. His retort was simple, yet elegant: "Yeah, you too." At this point I knew I was dealing with a mental giant and decided trading verbal jabs with such an intellectual must be avoided at all costs. I was starting to realize that Granville isn't the cultural and scholastic mecca that Denison would like you to believe it is.

I really can't knock Granville too much though, I enjoyed hitting on the bartender all night. Why the bartender you ask? Simple, she had all her teeth, bathed regularly, and didn't look like a man, which automatically elevated her into the top 5 best looking women in Granville. She wasn't used to the big city wit and charm, so I laid it on thick. I used home runs like "So, come here often?", "Wow, you have amazing breasts, can I touch them", and "Heeeeey la-DEEEE, I neeeeed another Fweee Beee ARRRR." You're laughing at me now, but soon you'll be laughing with me. My tab for the whole night was $2.50, and I got her number at the end of the night. True, she gave it to me because she thought I was "funny" and "crazy enough that I could be entertaining for a night", but at least it wasn't because I "looked like a sex offender, and she wanted the cops to be able to locate me later."

Another acquaintance I made on my jaunt to Granville was somewhat of a town drunk, let's call him Lester. Lester was one of those guys that was really rude and crass, but funny. However, he forgot the funny part. Lester was scary. He kept talking about how he loved "eating pussy". At first, I thought this was typical frat boy humor. Being that Lester was visibly dirty, and older, I started to realize he probably wasn't keeping company with too many females. I'm pretty sure Lester was speaking of barbecuing house cats, not using a colloquialism for pleasuring female genitalia. FUNNY: Making jokes with your friends from Kentucky how the best eats are from the side of the road. NOT FUNNY: Sitting next to a man in a bar and realizing he may have actually consumed roadkill, or your dog that "went away to the farm".

Basically, Granville is a place to go if you start feeling bad about yourself. In fact, their town slogan is "Move to Granville, Realize How Many People Have a Shittier Life Than You!!!" However, with enough PBR, and a hot bartender, you can make a night of it.

Editor's note: By "make a night of it" the author means calling the aforementioned bartender at 4 AM when he was extremely intoxicated, trying to convince/beg her to "hang out" with him (he meant naked), then rehashing some bad luck with girls (going for pity), then crying, then deleting her phone number from his phone per her request. All in a night's work for our tragic hero.

Author's note: The editor is a freaking liar. That bartender wants me, and she knows it. She had to work the next morning, that's why she couldn't hang out. And I wasn't crying, I have bad allergies. Peace out, bitches.

Friday, March 25, 2005

Law School Spring Break 2005, part two

A quick update on the tender crisp bacon cheddar ranch -- Mickey D’s has a new sandwich here in Cleveland, the Triple Double, that I think is their answer to the TCBCR. It's got triple the beef and double the cheese, and it’s plugged by Drew Gooden and Tractor Traylor instead of Hootie and Brooke Burke, but that’s close enough for me.

Wednesday
Last year: More debauchery involving my friends, only this time instead of empty cases of Natty Light and Spiderman underoos, the weapons of choice were the pots and pans found in the cupboards. Ran out of drinks, so we had to go back to Wal-Mart. This day also saw the best pickup line of the break, when my buddy Cesen was talking to some girls who said they liked washboard abs. “Good,” he said, “because I have some great ones -- I just have a load of laundry in right now.”
This year: OK, let me explain to you how infuriating it is to deal with the people at SprintPCS. This may take awhile. When I lived in Cleveland, I got a discount on my cell phone bill through my school. Now that I live in Cincinnati, I get no service. Nada, zilch, zippo, none. Unless I want to get in my car and drive to the end of the street. Real fucking convenient. So I went into the Sprint Store and told them I was going to take my business to Verizon, and that I wanted them to waive the early termination fee. They were perfectly willing to do this until they found out that I had a “corporate account” through the school. Only the Business Solutions group can waive early termination fees for corporate accounts, so I had to call them. They, too, were perfectly willing to waive the fee, until they found out that my name was not “Case Western Reserve University.” Just to make sure you’re still with me, I’ll recap this for you -- the Sprint Store won’t help me because I have a corporate account, and the corporate division won’t help me because I don’t own the corporation. Un believable. So then I set out to contact the people at the school who might be able to help me. This should have been very easy to do; C-Dub was Wired Magazine’s “Most Wired College in America” in 1999, so I figured all I had to do was go to the website, right? Wrong. Despite this school’s stated goal of becoming “the most powerful learning environment in the world,” the web site doesn’t list the fucking phone number for the Telephone Services office. And surprise surprise, no one is answering my emails. So I got in my car, drove the 40 minutes to fucking University Circle and barged into offices until I could make someone help me. Three hours later, I finally had my own goddamn name back on my cell phone account. Whoop de fucking do. Now I had to call back the people at Sprint Customer Care, because all the managers had left the store for the day at 4 o’clock, because, you know, there are no problems which can’t be resolved by a minimum wage employee during non-banking hours. Finally, I have Rhonda on the line at Customer Care, and after a half hour of re-explaining that three other people had already agreed to waive the early termination fee because I had no service at my home and all I need her to do is push the button and credit my account, she hit me with this gem: “Our map says you do have service, sir. We’re showing that you’re not having any problems.” Oh, OK. I’ll go tell my phone that your little map is green. Thanks a lot, fuckhead. At this point, I just could not take it anymore, and gave up for the day.


Thursday
Last year:
This was the start of March Madness, so most of us spent the bulk of the day in our rooms in front of the TVs. Minadeo’s hook up from the night before hung around just a little too long. In the evening Cesen (he of the washboard abs) fought a mechanical bull; lost. That night one of the guys got in trouble for removing a couch cushion from the room because he wanted to sleep by the pool. No idea why. This culminates in someone -- and I’m not saying that it was the same guy who wanted to sleep by the pool, but I’m not saying that it wasn’t -- flying off the handle and stabbing random doors with steak knives.
This year: Shaved my beard off. That was about all I had the energy to do after Wednesday.

This is shaping up to be the greatest spring break ever.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

You complete me

Most people go somewhere tropical for their Spring Break. I "chose" to come back to Cleveland, OH for my break. I was thinking about Florida, but in the end, the draw of steel mills, icy weather, and Robin Svoboda on the news couldn't drag me away from C-town (also, I have no job for the summer, so I'm sending out resumes/emails all week).

However, this process isn't very time consuming, so I've had plenty of time to catch up on Maury Povich, Law and Order, MTV's Made, Cribs, and Real Life "I'm on a TV Show that demonstrates exactly how pathetic I am." Last night I actually even watched women's basketball . . . . ok, I'm kidding, it isn't THAT bad. Two nights ago I took a break from my rigorous TV-viewing schedule to head out to the local meeting of the minds at Dreamers.

Dreamers is a place where the classiest members of Cleveland/Akron society go to mingle, share in intellectual conversation, and see and be seen. OK, actually, Dreamers is a really, really cheap strip club. I'm talking no cover, pay the dancers what you think they deserved for a lap dance, only lighting is black lights cheap. There aren't many places left where you can get a classy lady to grind her crotch against yours for 5 bucks. Nowadays, even a movie and drive-thru to Taco Bell will set you back $15-20 (also, if this is your idea of a date, it most likely won't end in any crotch grinding).

This is the best part about Dreamers, there is no delay in the gratification. The turnaround from introducing yourself and getting to second base (her rubbing her breasts against your face) and then dry humping is only dependent on how quickly you can get a crisp Lincoln out of your pocket and tucked into her garter belt (in the end, maximum of 45 seconds). On the other hand, if you date a girl the "traditional" way, you could wait up to two weeks, and spend a lot more money, to get the same result.

The women at Dreamers don't care how good looking you are, what kind of job you have, or even if you've bathed in the last week. All they care about is that you have cold hard cash to reward them for their efforts. If you think about it rationally, it really is just like condensed dating. You meet a girl (stripper), small talk for awhile (dates), agree to a lap dance (beg and plead for sex), and decide on how much the lap dance was worth (the cost of the gift goes up depending on how generous in bed the girl is, anal almost assuredly allows diamonds).

I'd go into more detail, but the NCAA's just came back on. However, I would like to point out that the bartender, after lifting up her shirt to show me her enormous fake breasts, informed me that there was free pizza at the end of the bar. I thought of no surer way to get Hepatitis C, so I passed. However, most of the employees of Dreamers grabbed a slice. Believe me, there is nothing more unintentionally funny than watching half-naked women walking around chowing down on pizza.

I'm getting really drunk over the next few nights, so hopefully I'll do something stupid enough to write about here.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Law School Spring Break 2005, part 1

Sorry for not blogging lately. I've been too busy being awesome.

I'm coming to you live from the new and improved Kelvin Smith Library at Case Western Reserve University in be-yoo-tiful Cleveland, Ohio. I don't go to school here anymore, and after four years of it, that's a very good thing.

Some of you may be thinking that spending Spring Break in Cleveland would be a major bummer -- and you'd be right, if you didn't go to law school in Cincinnati. Nearly anything is an upgrade over Cincinnati, except Alabama (worst state in the union, bar none).

So yeah, I'm here in my old undergrad library, hitting the books even though it's supposed to be my week off. All these innocent little undergrads are running around with their tans and their little bullshit books about dynamics and organic chemistry, and that got me to thinking about this year's spring break as compared to last year's. Here's the rundown. I'll have updates throughout the week. And yes, this will be a photo essay.

Friday
Last year: 24 guys piled into six cars and headed south from Cleveland at 10am. The four guys in our car stopped in Cincinnati for dinner with my fiancée and continued on to Clinton, Tennessee to spend the night at my buddy's parents' place.
This year: Turned in my brief at 8:15am, class from 9 to 10, napped on my couch from 10:30 to 4. Dinner and a movie with the fiancée, then to bed early. Really early.

Saturday
Last year:
Woke up early and drove the rest of the way from Clinton to Panama City, and found our way to our rooms at about 6pm. Everyone else had driven straight through the night, checked in at 11, and passed out on their beds or couches by the time we got there. Except for my brown friend Arpan. I walked into his room thinking he was in the bathroom because I heard running water. Instead of finding him washing his hands, I found him passed out standing up leaning on the TV, pissing everywhere. It was gushing out the bottom of his pants in such incredible volumes that the carpet couldn't soak it up fast enough, and it rolled out of the room, onto the balcony, off the edge, and down 13 floors into the pool area. Welcome to Spring Break.
This year: Slept late, watched Yu-Gi-Oh! (reruns, unfortunately), and drove from Cincinnati to Cleveland. Had to turn right around for a fraternity function downtown, and spent the night watching basketball and catching up with guys whom I hadn't seen in almost a year. Returned to my parents' house around 4am. This unquestionably will be the day that most closely parallels last year's break.

Sunday
Last year: Woke up early and hungry. Went to Waffle House for breakfast, then to Wal-Mart for, uhm, drinks. Loaded up my buddy's Explorer with as many cases as it could hold (72), plus some other essential items (and no, that is not me). Spent most of the day fighting, and then all of these fuckers passed out on my bed.
This year: Woke up early and hungry. Fortunately, it was the last day for the local Kiwanis Club's Pancake Breakfast. This included things like my dad saying to my mom, "Hey! How did the Austins get in front of us in line?! They were still in the damn parking lot when we were walking in!" when the Austin family was right next to us. Seriously, not a single person between them. Just unbelievable candor in that man. Anyway, I ate myself sick, then went home and watched LeBron drop 56 on the Raptors, only to have the Cavs lose. Did some fun reading, and by fun reading I mean I read an economics textbook.

Monday
Last year:
Spent the morning playing football on the beach, and the evening saw the appearance of Natural Light Man and his sidekick Spiderman (pronounced "spitter-men" -- he's Jewish). They hassled girls for awhile, and eventually the Green Goblin talked them into playing quarters for the rest of the night.
This year: Didn't wake up in the morning, and spent a large portion of the afternoon helping my mom do business things. When I say "business things," you have to remember that I live on a donkey farm, so I mean that I took pictures of donkeys so my mother could sell them. Delivered some bills for my dad, and then went to pick out a tuxedo for the wedding. Lost ten dollars in low-stakes poker.

Tuesday
Last year: Probably the best day of the trip. Spiderman and I filled up squirt guns with tequila, put badges on, and patrolled the beach as the fun police. Anyone who wasn't having enough fun had a fun warrant issued for their fun arrest, and was forced to take shots. This led to the most awkward moment of the trip, when we tried to give one girl a shot because she wasn't having fun. Seeing what I was wearing, she said "I don't want a shot, but I do want to get lei'd." What I heard, of course was, "but I do want to get laid." So I turned to Spiderman and said, "well, you're in luck, because my friend here is GREAT at doing chicks." A few moments of awkward silence followed before Spiderman explained what she meant. I'm a genius.
This year: Today. I woke up early and headed downtown to the library with my Property and Crim Law books. I've been here ever since, slaving away over adverse possession and the Model Penal Code. Still on the agenda is pizza for dinner, followed by more fun reading. It's going to be a great day.

Stay tuned for the rest of Law School Spring Break 2005.

Sunday, March 20, 2005

Finally on Spring Break

Sorry, took awhile for me to come out of my St. Patty's Day hangover.

1. March madness is going to make it hard for me to pay attention to this blog. However, I guess I have more of a commitment to it than Nye. I don't understand why he made me stop my initial blog and move onto his.

2. The Burger King Chicken Crisp Bacon Cheddar Ranch scares me. Really, it scares me. First, who are all of these people. I know Hootie, Vida Guerra, and Brooke Burke. If anyone has any insight as to who else is in this commercial, I'd appreciate it. I think about it constantly, and I'm afraid it may start taking over my life. The people I'd like to identify are 1) the blonde under the "chicken breast" tree 2) the blonde on the railroad car (longer version) 3) the two black cowboy twins (my brother claims its Kris Kross, but I don't think so 4) Any other famous people in the commercial. Anyone who responds and tells me that the blonde under the tree is Jenna Jameson will be ridiculed. I've seen a lot of Jenna's work, and I know her face when I see it, even when it isn't covered with semen.

3. I'm winning in two pools right now. So I'm happy. I'm sure after next weekend I'll be very bitter at West Virginia or someone like that ruining my bracket.

More on March Madness, this whole we're-the-underdog-we're-losing-late-so-we'll-link-our-arms-together-on-the-bench-to-show-unity thing has to stop. First, guys who bet on you don't want you to look desperate. Guys who bet against you don't want you to look like you have a chance. The type of girls that will sleep with you if you win don't like it, because they don't like douchebags. The type of girls that will sleep with you if you lose out of pity DO like it. However, they're fat. And they have herpes.

4. I had a dream last week that I was coach of the US women's water polo team. No really, these are what my fantasies are now. Please help.

5. I'm really glad I wrote during the afternoon as opposed to tonight. I can't wait for "Spring Break Shark Attack" on CBS. It's obvious that CBS has ceded the purposeful comedy to the other networks and is basing their programming strictly on unintentional comedy.

6. Jimmy Kimble Live had a clip from a guy who called into QVC on St. Patty's day while drunk and got on the air. This is going to be my new hobby after I get back from the bars. The guy told the lady on QVC that he drank a lot of beer and proposed to a leprechaun. One of the funniest things I've heard in awhile.

I'll work on being funny for the rest of the week. Right now I'm too focused on figuring out every permutation as to how much money I can make off the tourny.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

He Said, She Said

First let me get something off my chest. Legal writing classes blow, hard.

Moving on.

I'm sitting here reading depositions for my brief, and the way people skew things reminds me of the good old days in undergrad when we had our own "fact finding" missions. Yes, I'm talking about trying to figure out what REALLY happened when one of your buddies is telling you about his "mind-blowing" hook up from the night before. Alcohol and ego always skewed the facts, but in the end, when you balanced what you know she was saying with what your buddy was saying, it was always easy to discern what actually went down. In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, here's a sample of the differences in stories that a guy tells his friends and a gal tells her friends.

He said: Dude, so I'm at this bar, throwin out the vibe, all the ladies are lovin it, I'm working the room, talking to all the hot ladies, and then this girl gets all up in my stuff.

She said: So I'm walking back from the bar to the dance floor, and this totally drunk guy thats SOAKED in sweat runs into me and spills my drink all over me. I was so pissed.

He said: Once I see this honey, I use some small talk to ease up the mood. And she's definitely digging me. So I'm like, hey, let me buy you a drink

She said: He uses the "why don't we get out of these wet clothes" line on me and I have to swallow the little bit of vomit that sneaks up in my mouth. I'm so pissed, I was just like "listen ass, follow me up to the bar and buy me a new drink, I just bought this one."

He said: So we get up to the bar, and I ask her about her interests and stuff like that, you know, I'm just playing it cool, you know how I am. Anyway I can tell she's really digging me now, so I'm like, lets do a shot, and she is all for it.

She said: We get to the bar and the first thing he asks me is if I like going down on guys. Once again, I find myself swallowing puke. He says he'll buy me a shot, and at this point, I'll do anything to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth.

He said: So we do the shot and then I ask her to dance. I take her out on the dance floor and show her all my moves, she's not a bad dancer, but I mean, she couldnt really hang with me so she had to go take a breather.

She said: He kept rubbing his boner into my ass, so I had to go sit down. I did another shot in hopes that this was just a bad dream.

He said: So after a little while I go over and sit down with my new lady friend. I tell her a couple jokes and she's just looking me right in my eyes the whole time. She's totally into it, she was giggling like a little school girl the whole time

She said: So he sits down next to me and I can't stop laughing because he's drinking a Pina Colada.

He said: At this point I know I'm in, so I'm like, hey baby, want to go back to my place?

She said: I know he lives next to me, so I figured I could get a free walk home

He said: We get back to my place, and I make my move, she's all about it, she gets all frisky and I can tell she's ready to go. So I invite her into my place and we go up to my room.

She said: We get back to his house and he tries to clean out the back of my neck with his tongue, I try to squirm away but I can't get his tongue out of my mouth. Once I finally do, he invites me in. I accept, I just need some Listerine to clean out his smell of whiskey and cigarrettes from my mouth

He said: We get to my room and just get down to business. I can tell she is so into it. You know I know how to treat a lady right. I jump in the shower real quick because its so hot, i just needed a breather, you know. It's just wild crazy hooking up. We go at it for like an hour. It's just crazy, really, probably the best hook up I've ever had. She LOVED it.

She said: The shots catch up to me, I'm drunk, I haven't gotten any in awhile, so I figure what the hell. What a mistake. I make him shower first. It takes him like 58 minutes to get it up, then 2 minutes later, he's done. I was SO glad that it was over.

He said: That's right boys, just another lady you can chalk up on my bedpost.

She said: Afterwords he told me he had just lost his virginity. Then he cried. I didn't have the heart to tell him that he never actually got it in.

So in your drunken stupor on St. Patty's, remember there are two sides to every story.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday

I'm so glad I set aside Sunday to work solely on my brief. I was able to use the day to its fullest to get some work done. Here's a chronology of the day.

10:00 AM -- Wake up, hit snooze

10:15 AM -- Wake up, hit snooze

10:30 AM -- Wake up, move to couch

10:31 AM -- turn on TV, nothing panders to me, so I move to ESPN football 2005, Browns beat Steelers 42-13, Plaxico Burress sprains ankle, it's gonna be a good day.

11:15 AM -- Get to work on brief, and by work on brief, I mean turn on laptop, spread cases around desk and floor, login to Lexis-Nexis, proofread statement of facts. This wears me out, decide I need some food.

Noon -- Eggs, toast, and hash browns, lots of ketchup. Decide to take 30 minute break before heading back to work. Similar to swimming, you must wait half hour before doing anything related to law school after eating, otherwise, you may vomit, or drown.

1 PM -- Decide watching ACC title game is necessity, even if beloved Tar Heels have decided to let someone else beat Duke

3:30 PM -- Disappointment after Duke pulls it out, decide that I probably shouldn't work on the brief with such a negative mindset, work on Friendster profile for 15 minutes, then IM about how much brief sucks for next 15 minutes

4 PM -- Shower, decide to forgo shaving, again

4:05 PM -- Work on brief
4:15 PM -- Call landlord to resolve hot water issues with shower, landlord promises to get right on it, unlike my landlord in undergrad, who would have said deal with it. I think this has something to do with landlord feeling that I have some sort of knowledge of the law and he must help me or I will sue. Little does he know that 1Ls and the law are just like teenagers and sex. We both know what all the parts are and what they do, but we can't really find a way to put it all together smoothly. This results in pain and uncomfortable groping (for complicated legal arguments or complicated bra straps) for both.

4:20 PM -- back to work on brief

4:45 PM -- IM about brief, make sure that I'm doing the right topic, turns into IM conversations about NCAAs, steroids, and who would you rather sleep with Lindsay Lohan or one of the Olsen twins (I'd take Lohan over BOTH of the twins, even at the same time).

5:30 PM -- Work on brief for a half hour straight

6:00 PM -- Watch selection show and make baked Zitis for dinner

6:30 PM -- Agonize over why UNC has tough bracket, do preliminary research for tourny pool, ignore research about morbid obesity and the ADA. Supplement dinner with entire bag of Iced Animal Crackers.

7:00 PM -- Parents call, talk to them about how I've been working on my brief all day. Feel somewhat bad about stretching the truth, but realize it's a feeling I need to get used to as a lawyer.

8:00 PM -- The Contender. Ishe Smith is the man, I thought he was gonna get his ass kicked, but he shut the pretty boy up.

9:00 PM -- Confusion as to why Desperate Housewives is not on TV. Confusion is furthered when Uncle Jesse is hitting on lots of females. Left wondering if Becky is at home guiding the twins through adolescence on her own.

9:25 PM -- Trip to Shell station for Red Bull in anticipation of long night ahead

10:00 PM -- ABC doesn't completely ruin my night by showing Boston Legal, counts as work on brief, as show is about law (also, Tara is smoking hot). In retrospect, I will count The Contender as legal research as well, as boxers do some stupid stuff, and will most likely need lawyers. Back to Boston Legal, this show is great. It reminds me every week that lawyers are pompous, arrogant, self-aggrandizing individuals. According to most females, this is the perfect profession for me.

11:00 PM to bedtime.. whenever that may be. I'd like to say that I'll get a good 3 hours of work in tonight. However, in all likelihood, I'll work for 30 minutes or so, then check ESPN.com, waste more time by calling females that I have no chance with, then hope there is a good King of Queens or Dharma and Greg on TV. Greg is a lawyer, so that counts as working on my brief.

All in all, a full days work.

I use public toilets, and I piss on the seat

Remember Denis Leary? He had a great song titled "Asshole," where he would sing about, not surprisingly, what an asshole he was. If you haven't heard it, I highly recommend scouring the net for a download. Anyway, a friend of mine has a penchant for copychanging songs, so to speak, and has penned a tune called "Lawyer."

Friday, March 11, 2005

I am a hillbilly

It's true. I was born and raised on a farm, albeit a small one. I've spent entire summers putting up hay and I've mucked my share of stalls. And I don't mind the smell of poop, though I prefer it to belong to animals and not, say, Najeh Davenport.

So in Property today (boy, from this blog, you'd think that was my only course) when the prof started to read a problem about a silage auger and announced that he hoped someone in the class grew up on a farm, 130 eyes turned directly to me. I pretended not to notice, of course, but after the silence became oppressive I slowly raised my hand and explained what it was for.

OK, so the real reason for writing this is not to tell you that everyone then laughed at me (even though they did) or to demonstrate that I'm smarter than you because I know what a silage auger is (even though I am). No, the real reason, obviously, is that this is a great opportunity to link to pictures of poop. Here is another one. And here, here, and here.

Hot damn, I'm funny.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Bake sale goodies

I'm wondering if this could be protected under freedom of expression. The brownies could be considered his art? No?

I really don't think you can hold the kid criminally liable for worrying about his classmates protein intake.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

How to make law school less stressful

It's just a simple seven-stop process:

  1. Ignore all emails from the law school’s registrar because hey, all 1L classes are required, so there’s no need to register, right?
  2. Attend class for two weeks, oblivious to the fact that you’re not technically in the class.
  3. Eventually register in the third week of the semester when a prof complains that you’re on her seating chart but not her class list. As if anyone would ever dream of sitting in on her horrible, boring class for no credit.
  4. Get added to class rosters at the end of January.
  5. Find your way into a Property class where the professor calls on students from a class roster.
  6. Notice two weeks before your brief is due that everyone else in the class has been called on once, and some people have now been called on twice, and you still have not.
  7. Put two and two together, and realize that the professor printed his class roster at the start of the term, so if you don’t want to do any reading until your brief is done, you’re home free.

The lesson, as always – it pays to be irresponsible.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Full disclosure

I mentioned before that I went to law school so I could write about talking horses. And that's true; law school is about nothing if not eloquent equines.

But the rest of the story is that I went to law school because maybe -- just maybe -- I could walk into a courtroom one day and find this judge.

Gives a new meaning to "all rise," doesn't it?

Everything I need to know in life, I learned at the Vagina Monologues

I have to admit, I was a skeptic. I thought the Vagina Monologues would be devoid of content and pretty much a waste of two hours of my life. However, the Vagina Monologues pleasantly surprised me with how much they taught me about life. Here is a sketch by sketch recap of the night. (For those of you that don't know, the Vagina Monologues were based on a series of real interviews with women about their vaginas)

Introduction -- Still drunk from pre-party, not really sure what they said.

Hair -- In this sketch a woman said she was sick of shaving her pubes for men, and she wasn't gonna do it anymore. Consequently, no man ever slept with her again and she now goes by the name Sister Bushy.

Wear and say -- Here, we were told what Vaginas would wear and say. One woman's vagina said, "Whatever you do, don't put me in a fairly boring play about what women's vaginas might say if they could speak."

The Flood -- This sketch was actually funny because it was a grandma talking about her vagina. Everyone knows that women lose their vaginas after they turn 40.

The Vagina Workshop -- I learned here that some women can't see their vagina without a hand mirror. If you are that inflexible, I don't want to see your vagina either.

Crooked Braid -- Here I learned that fraternity pranks were actually invented by angry Native American women, as when her husband passed out, the women in this story cut off his braid and put it in his hand.

My Angry Vagina -- Her vagina is angry about the fact that men complain about the smell of vagina, my penis expects her to swallow and not complain.

Intermission -- This is the time to leave the Vagina Monologues if you accidentally end up at them.

The Little Coochie Snorcher that Could -- First, I learned a new name for vaginer. Second, I learned it's O.K., even sensual, for a 24 year old woman to seduce a 16 year old girl. This led me to wonder about the ramifications of a 23-year old man seducing a high school senior. I think it's acceptable, based on this logic. Anyone need a prom date? I can buy your beer.

Under the Burqa -- They turned off all the lights for this one. I used the time to "relieve myself" after all that hot lesbian talk in the last sketch.

Smell -- See "My Angry Vagina"

My Short Skirt -- Three females came out wearing short skirts and gave a sketch along the line of "My Anti-Drug". They said wearing their short skirts doesn't mean they were "asking" for men to have sex with them, among other things. However, they never said that wearing a short skirt isn't "asking" for a man to drop objects in front of them and ask them to bend over to pick them up. Duly noted ladies, I now know what you want when you wear those daisy dukes.

Reclaiming Cunt -- An angry lesbian yelled about the word "cunt". I was scared.

A 6-year old Girl was Asked -- OK, this might have told me the most about standards men and women must live up to. If women ask a 6-year old girl about their vagina, it's art. If I would ask a 6-year old boy about his penis, I would be knocking at your door soon to explain why I was registered as a sex offender in the State of Ohio.

The Woman who Loved to Make Vagina's Happy -- The only skit that actually made me laugh. The women fake orgasms!!! It's great, and it was so funny to me because I have never heard a fake orgasm before.......... I would appreciate it if my ex-girlfriends would refrain from commenting on this post.

I Was There in the Room -- And they end it by talking about childbirth, I would have ended it with the fake orgasms, but what can you do.

There it is, what i learned from the Vagina Monologues. Thank you very much Law Women. This event was required for a law school class. Those of you that attended, make sure to be at the screening of all five Rocky movies, followed by a trip to the strip club. This is necessary for you to understand the male psyche.

Friday, March 04, 2005

Pictures are worth 4000 funny words

I was going to attempt to write something funny. However, I came across this website after looking at the Yahoo! Netrospective. It's much funnier than anything I could ever write, and it's funny because it's true.

http://www.pixyland.org/peterpan/

I recommend checking out the "fashion page".
Warning -- If you are a homophobe, do not click on this link. In fact, if you have ever thought you might be a homophobe, don't look at this page. Actually, if you can spell homophobe, don't look at this page.

Also, I'm going to the Vagina Monologues tonight as a requirement for one of my classes. I think it might give me a few tasty tidbits to share tomorrow.

I appreciate the reference in the comments, but I have never worked for ESPN as an anchor on Sportscenter. However, if anyone knows anyone that could get me this job, let me know and I will drop out of law school immediately.

My property professor is angry

"Maybe there's privity of estate? IF SOMEONE COMES IN MY HOUSE AND BURGLES ME, DO WE HAVE PRIVITY OF ESTATE?! NO!! HE'S STEALING STUFF FROM MY GODDAMN HOUSE!" - Joseph Biancalana, property professor, to a petrified student who had suggested that privity of estate may exist between a landlord and an unauthorized sub-lessee.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

Wherefore art thou, fun in library?

Libraries are depressing. It seems like people go to these places only to accomplish things, and not to have fun. People working makes me sad, whereas people having fun makes me happy. The way people act in libraries is something that burns me more than the gonorrhea I contracted from a Taiwainese hooker while on shore leave.

Law libraries are the worst. I mean, try to start up a friendly game of Northeastern reporter Jenga, and see the shit hit the proverbial fan. Then, the librarians have the nerve to make you clean up the shit. Don't even think about looking up any sort of animal pornography either, librarians are only down with child porn. Anyway, the silence of the library is probably what gets me most. Really, it's almost deafening. I feel more comfortable talking after watching a Cialis or Viagra commercial with my parents than speaking in a library.

Which leads me to the people that work in libraries. These are people who, for one reason or another, are incapable of having "real" fun. They instead get their kicks out of telling other people to be quiet, or scornfully looking at anyone who seems to be enjoying themselves. It's a little known fact that the world "librarian" actually comes from the ancient egyptian words "lib" which means 'will definitely' and "rarian" which means 'marry someone they met on the internet'. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

In conclusion, have some fun the next time you're at the library. Bring a bottle. Play NE Reporter Jenga. Bring back the penis game from junior high. Do something to piss off everyone else that's trying to be productive. You know that deep down inside, they really want to have fun. If they don't want to have fun, I guess they have a right to do their own thing, like play Star Trek Scrabble.

In the end, I guess we have to leave the libraries to the nerds, they need somewhere to breed anyway.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Ambition

I'm not going to law school because I want to make a lot of money. I'm definitely not going to law school because I have a burning desire to help people.

I'm going to law school because I want to write about talking horses when I grow up.

In Search of a Monocle

In the course of my research about morbid obesity for my Advocacy class (also known as Public Speaking in undergrad), I have realized I desperately need a monocle to enhance my intellectual profile. If anyone has a spare one sitting around the house, please let me know.

I feel the combination of a monocle and smoking a pipe and drinking scotch in the library will definitely lead my classmates to label me an "intellectual". After reaching this status, I will be able to pretend like I'm helping my classmates research, while in actuality I will be making mental notes of all the cases that they are looking at. Hopefully this will take most of the effort out of research, giving me more time to do the things that intellectuals do, like browse the internet for pornography and see how many peanut butter cookies I can eat in an hour.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Taking feminism a step further

There is a sad epidemic sweeping law school campuses across the nation, feminists are running out of things to be angry about. Why you ask? Men have caved, albeit for good reason. Men realized if we pretend we're watching "Sex and the City" for an insight into the feminine psyche, instead of waiting to see tit or maybe an ass shot, we get a lot more of that sweet, sweet poontang. However, feminists are angry that we've caved. While most people who fight for a cause would be happy with this result (as it should signify that all the fighting has finally resulted in a positive change), feminists see it as one more thing to blame on mysoginistic pop culture. Society has not evolved to include woman as an equal to man, it's just taken away the things that they could bitch about. Now they can't sit around drinking mocha latte's, listening to the new Enya CD, wearing potato sacks, and discuss why men should all rot in hell. Fear not my carpet-munching constituents, I am here to rescue you from the quandry of having nothing to fight for anymore. Here are a few new societal norms for you to kick around at the next Lilith Fair.

1) Anytime a woman refers to NOW or women's rights, she must remove an article of clothing.

2) When purchasing a cucumber, women must specify if it will be consumed orally or vaginally.

3) In the job application process "sexy as hell" or "great in the sack" can be considered pluses for hiring a woman. Whereas "fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down" and "prefers comany of other women" can be seen as negatives (Note: if "prefers company of other women" is combined with "great in the sack", it's like reversing polarity).

4) If a man takes you out to a nice dinner, buys you flowers, and takes you to a nice show, a perfectly acceptable end to the night is nice conversation and a handshake. However, this conversation and handshake will follow mandatory, rough, anal sex.

5) New measuring stick for success in life? Largest number of men you've slept with in a 48 hour period.

6) Paternity tests? Outlawed. New method? A combination of the Ouija Board of Justice and Magic 8-ball of Truth. The only reliable method.

I'd think of more, but I'm busy writing my memo for Advocacy, which pretty much saps any sort of mental capacity that I have. If you are a feminist, and need another chauvanistic ideal to complain about, feel free to contact me directly.

Stay righteous.