Working in a coal mine...

Today was the last day for four of the interns. So, we all went out to lunch with our supervisor, and her boss...which was nice. The BIG boss is an Air Force Reserve Colonel, is very cool, and had some really brilliant observations and interesting things to say about lawyering and how she has gotten to where she's at. The only problem with this? I've been here six weeks and this is the first time I've even MET this woman. See how this luncheon would have been nice when we all first got here so we would have had time to follow up on some of her suggestions and ask more questions?

Likewise, two of the four interns today left half-finished projects on my desk, since I will be staying on next week. Once again, I've been here for six weeks, the first four of which were spent surfing the internet trying to find exactly the right apartment on Craigslist and looking for good shoe sales online because I literally had NOTHING to do...I went door to door and begged...and still, nothing! Why wasn't someone watching the assignments DURING the time we were here and ensuring they were equitably distributed so we all had a pretty steady flow of work, and it wasn't three people with TONS of interesting projects, a few people with TONS of busy work and a couple interesting projects, and three of us with nothing but time on our hands? Also, my direct supervisor ominously told me to be in her office first thing Monday morning for a "really big project with a short time-line." Oh good. Especially since my memo, which has grown to FOUR questions presented, is going to take me all weekend.

See, this is what happens when you spend the better part of the summer just praying for something to do...you get punished!

Anyway, that's my last (and really only) vent about work until I come up with my list of "Questions I should have asked but didn't" later this weekend. I'm off to babysit...bring on the snacks!

Here she comes, Miss No-Talent America

The Miss America pageant is yanking the talent section of the competition...a welcome relief I'm sure for most of the girls, since I don't think plastic surgery was counted as a talent.

Heather French Henry, Miss America 2000, was also critical. “It’s a tragedy,” she said. “That’s what separates us from the type of contestant that goes to Miss USA. Our young ladies get into it for the scholarships and the talent.”

It's funny...I hadn't noticed a difference between any of the different pageants. Let's see, parade around in swimsuit and high heels (just like at the real beach) -- check. Wear tragic evening gown that looks like it was a bridesmaid dress in a former life and was somehow dipped in sequins and ruffles then reintroduced as a "pageant dress" -- check. Defensively explain to everyone that beauty pageants are legitimate contests for scholarships for talented girls -- check. Declare your sincere desire to cure all the world's problems while being interviewed in said bikini and high heels -- check.

Well, at least we're all aware now that Miss America is apparently the "classy" pageant -- I had no idea there was an inside rivalry between the two contests...I guess when your whole job is churning out girls who look good in swimsuits and who may or may not have something interesting to say, but will almost definitely not say it if they do, there can be rivalry. It takes a contest with good strong standards regarding the talent portion, but nice loose standards regarding what actually COUNTS as a talent, to turn out an endless supply of vapid automatons.

Adventures in babysitting...but without a car, and with snacks.

Tomorrow night I am babysitting.  I know you're thinking "Who in their right mind would leave their child with YOU?"  But, really, I'm a pretty good babysitter.  I like snacks, and movies, and puzzles, and coloring, and learning new bad words.  I rock.  The best part is, the friend I'm babysitting for called me today from the grocery store to ask what snacks I want.  YES!  Snacks are being provided, and they have digital cable with like nine million channels, which is approximately nine million more than I currently have.  I hope I Love The 90's is on...I haven't seen it yet.  I know it's sick, but I kind of miss VH-1.  And TLC, but only for What Not To Wear, which I watched religiously with my roommate last year...nothing tops of a tough week of law school like watching someone else be publicly humiliated.  For a change.

Aside from all of this...not much is happening.  I am winding down at work, trying to get a handle on the Memo From Hell.  Larry has an awesome post about how to survive 1L up over at Lonestar Expat...I always think about doing posts like that, but I feel like everyone else does them so much better, I'll just wait until they say it and then link to it.  Her Number One Law School Rule?  Drink through.  Well said.

And lastly, in direct contradiction to what I just said, and in all seriousness, I am trying to come up with the top 10 (or maybe more) questions I SHOULD have asked, and WOULD have asked, had I known to ask them, while interviewing, and BEFORE accepting a summer position.  Maybe this weekend...depending on whether the Memo From Hell actually sucks out my soul and leads to my sudden and untimely demise before then.

Please send all unused, unappreciated free ice cream coupons to ME!

Driving good = Free Ice Cream.  Lawyers trying to ruin it (of course).

The Summer Camp Blues.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I wanted to send you a letter and let you know how I am doing this summer at Camp Eyewana Jobb. The actual camp is pretty decent. It's pretty hot though and sometimes the locals can be kinda weird.

The other campers are OK. There is one in particular that I really don't like though. He's short. And angry. The other day, during Arts and Crafts, he cut my yarn ball in half and totally messed up my God's Eye. Right in front of the counselor. It was really embarrasing. And then today, when we were telling ghost stories, he rolled his eyes and told the counselor and some of the other campers he thought I was stupid. Like I wasn't even there!  I hope he gets chiggers.

The rest of them aren't that bad. They never want to do any fun things though, like steal a canoe, or shortsheet the counselor's beds, or drink a fifth of Jack and feed the animals. Bears are so cool.

As for the counselors...we don't see them much. They seem pretty nice when they're around, but I've noticed that they don't spend much one on one time with us...they seem real real busy and important, but I can't say I really understand what they do yet.  I hope you're not paying almost $11,000 for this. But if you are, don't worry, I am bringing you home an ashtray I hand-crafted all by myself, and a set of crocheted potholders/tennis shorts I made during our daily quiet contemplation time. I noticed that no one else seems to spend it quietly contemplating as it's in the middle of the day so they usually go somewhere and eat their boxed lunches, but they usually don't ask me...I think it's because I'm such a good crochet-er and they're jealous.

All in all, Camp Eyewana Jobb has been a pretty long six weeks so far. I leave next Saturday and I can't wait to see you guys. I even miss Molly the Satanic Dog. I hope she's been leaving the hummingbirds alone. One thing I will say about summer camp, it's not for the weak. The other campers are like dogs, they can smell fear. But, I know deep down in my heart they're just jealous of my mad Arts and Crafts skills. Not everyone can build a lean-to with only Spanish Moss, toothpicks, a glue stick, and pink glitter you know!

A word on societal norms.

Dear Scary Guy Outside The Metro Stop Today,

I just wanted to let you know that generally, in American society, it is considered inappropriate to masturbate in public. Just thought I would let you know. Take care.

ES

Links and Stuff

For some reason all my links and whatnot are way at the bottom of this page...does anyone know what that happened? How to fix? At any rate, they're down there if you were wondering. This is making a move to MT seem better and better.

Just Because: The Franchise

Just Because: Owen Wilson



 

 

 
Request per Larry...Patron Saint of Pedialyte.  And just in case you're a true Owen fanatic, here's a couple of other pictures I found in my search. 

"Look, kids! Big Ben, Parliament....Look, kids! Big Ben, Parliament...Look, kids! Big Ben, Parliament..."

I finally mailed off my OCI materials today...or rather Fed-Ex'd them, to the tune of $33.20.  Bastards.  So, between that and the cost of printing and resume paper and whatnot, I just paid about $60.00 to be outright rejected by the firms of my choice.  Whoopee.

Here are the other things I did today.

1.  Wrote a SCATHING letter to Romano's Macaroni Grill regarding the service I got there the other night with M.  Our Bellini's were brought to the table when we were almost done eating.  The waitress' (I'm too stupid to figure out how to make this word possessive) cell phone rang while she was taking our order.  SHE PICKED IT UP AND LOOKED TO SEE WHO IT WAS!!!  Our food was cold.  M. had to get up and get the water pitcher from the server's station and refill our glasses.  NONE of the servers would make eye contact with us, apparently for fear that we would actually ask them to SERVE US.  All in all...not good.  Whoever gets the email I sent should be so glad they didn't have to talk to me in person.

2.  Researched my memo...which started out to be on the subject of attorney client privilege in certain situations unique to the organization I work for, and has now become the memo that ate my life...subsisting on what's left of my hopes and dreams and voraciously mowing through all that stands in its path, like what's left of my ability to form a coherent sentence and put it down on paper.

3.  Bought a new cell phone charger.  Avid readers of Favorable Dicta will recognize that this is the second cell phone charger I have purchased in the last two months.  I think the damn dirty Diet Coke really is affecting my ability to remember to take my shit with me when I leave someone's house, or a hotel, or even when I just leave for work from my own house, usually forgetting at least half of what I need...like my keys...and my shoes.  Seriously.  I forgot my shoes the other day.  I wear tennis shoes on the Metro...but the other day my co-workers were lucky enough to see me in a stunning skirt, sweater-set, sneaker ensemble ALL DAY that was truly breathtaking.  My high heels took the day off and hung out at home...probably surfing the 'net for porn and drinking my booze.

4.  Went and bought laundry detergent.  The good news is that the people who have the least ability to control their rabid children are the people breeding the fastest.  The other good news is that they all go to the same store I do.  Only they're buying cheap beer and ho-ho's.  Not that there's anything wrong with that...if you use it responsibly.

That's sadly about it.  Another exciting day in the life of Energy Spatula -- Girl Intern.

UPDATE:  As pointed out to me by Dylan, I linked to myself.  There is a reason.  This post is simul-posted over at L^3.  I'm too lazy to take out the link but will spend 5 minutes putting in an update.  Go figure. 

Olympic Athletes are sex-fiends...who knew?

Olympic athletes are getting free condoms.  130,000 free condoms.  How many athletes are there...like 100?  My  god.  But really, the article says they are available to over 17,000 trainers and athletes.  Apparently last time they ran out.  You would think FIFTY-ONE PER PERSON would be plenty.  But, alas, no.  Geez.

"We have discussed the numbers with the organizing committee and we think they are realistic as we know from previous Olympics that athletes do come into contact during the Games."

In the Sydney 2000 Games, each competing athlete was given 51 condoms on arrival at the Olympic Village, but another 20,000 had to be shipped in when supplies began to run low.

Sunset in Iraq

Here is sunset in Iraq from my  friend Capt. Shane.  I have another post from him to put up when I have time, and also he reports that they've been having days where the temperature is 117 degrees.  I vow not to complain about how hot D.C. is anymore!

Open up and say "Oh my god, is that semen??"

I don't even think that I can do comedic justice to this story.  Seriously, you just have to read it.

Dentist Allegedly Injected Semen Into Patients' Mouths:  Woman Said Substance Tasted Like Semen

Back to the real world.

Hello. I'm back.  Sort of.  M. just left a little while ago, so I'm back on my own here in hellish D.C.  I have OCI stuff due to TVPNU on Wednesday which means tonight is "oh my god, why do I wait until the last minute to get stuff done" night.  I will be at Fed Ex in the morning and I guess just have to cross my fingers that all goes well.  I've decided to only apply for a couple of firms, all of the government agencies (basically) that are going to be there, and one sort of small obscure firm that is not actually coming to interview but is accepting resumes and is pretty close to my hometown in southern Oregon.  I think I've said it before on here, but I love my family...if I could live at home next summer I would do it in a second.  They rock.

In other news, there is a debate over at Begging the Question and Slithery D., regarding blog crushes and whether blogs accurately reflect the blogger...I think it's an interesting topic and may write more later if I have time.  I think it's safe to say, in a nutshell, that I don't think there's any substitution for plain old fashioned chemistry and I tend to be pretty critical of online type interactions.  There's tons to say about this subject, but I have to quit procrastinating and get to work.  I hope to be back tomorrow with some stuff about the weekend and another post from Capt. Shane, my friend in Iraq.

Weekend Hedonism

Hello faithful reader.  Just a reminder that M. is in town this weekend and so there will likely be no real blogging until Sunday night or Monday.  We stopped off at my place today to get some stuff to take back to the hotel, hence this public service reminder.  Weekend tally so far:

1 bottle of pedialyte
1 broked air conditioner at swank hotel
1 quasi-human repairman who reminded us at least four times he had a key to our room and could enter at any moment
1 bitch ass waitress who got a less than 10% tip because she really was that horrible
2 street vendor hotdogs
1200 diet cokes (just kidding, only about half that)
5 touristy destinations
Incalculable consumption of adult alcoholic beverages

Best story so far:  M. and I checking into Hilton hotel and M. tries to pay for the room only to find out I've already paid for it.  Check-in lady gives us exhausted look, waiting for an argument over who's gonna pay.  M. goes "that's OK, I'll just take it out of you ass later tonight"...Check-in lady giggles after she gets over her shock, and I laugh so hard I drop my credit card and spend five minutes on my hands and knees searching the floor under the reception desk for it.  Heh.  Funny.

Soapbox Alert.

In response to the guest blogger at Waiting for the Punchline, and other posts here and here...nothing personal, just gotta get up on my soapbox about this one for a minute.  All of this is in regards to this article, talking about elective plastic surgery being performed on military members.  This started out as a comment to this passage from Waiting for the Punchline:

The surgeons have to have someone to practice on?!? Nice - send the kids over to the middle east to fight whatever it is we're fighting over there, and if they're feeling fat and ugly when they come back, let them offer themselves up to some narcisistic plastic surgeon so he can practice his boob jobs until he's good enough to make it on the next season of "Dr. 90210." Is it me, or does this seem a little twisted?

 but soon grew to massive proportions.  Sorry about the length.  My soapbox runneth over. 

Actually,  they are practicing plastic surgery skills so that when kids come back from Iraq and Afghanistan with half a hand, or only one leg, or a huge scar where part of their face used to be, they can try to fix it and give those people a normal life...without practice the surgeons would not be skilled at fixing wounds in ways that leave people physically attractive and functional.  If you're in the military should you have to have a huge scar where a wound was sewn up because there is no plastic surgery available?  Should plastic surgeons hone their skills on people outside the military?  People who probably get paid enough to afford it?  There are over a million active duty military personnel (approximately), and according to that article less than 2,000 over the course of three years got elective plastic surgery.  That 2,000 number also includes dependants.  And to correct SMP?,   (gently, because he's one of my favorites) the surgery is not only open to officers or officer's dependants, it is open to at the very least all active duty members, and I think to Guard and Reserve as well (but I'm not sure), the article says "to anyone who wears a uniform."

I personally knew two women in the military who had plastic surgery.  Both breast reductions.  Both done to help their backs (I know this doesn't speak to augmentations, but honestly, I don't know anyone who had it done, or had liposuction either).  You know, back pain kind of sucks when you're having to pass physical fitness tests and run around with a huge pack on, or dig defensive fighting positions, or fill sandbags for your local community when it floods (I did all of these things while in the Air Force, so I'm not even exaggerating for effect).   Also, I knew someone who had her hands, and part of her face (one of her eyes) blown off by a mail bomb...she got plastic surgery too. 

But you know, since military people are clearly living large, what with having to be on food stamps (over 6,000 families in 2000, 3 times the number who have had plastic surgery), living in tents in the desert fighting a war that they've been ordered to fight in by their Commander in Chief, living in substandard housing with lead paint and asbestos here in the states (the lead paint was in my very own home that I shared with my ex-husband at Kirtland AFB, in Albuquerque, NM), and being away from home often several months a year (once again, this is personal experience with the guys I worked with in the intelligence, language, operational information warfare, and security fields) we should make sure the media spends plenty of time on the topic of plastic surgery.  Obviously that's a primary concern here.

This is really how I feel, jaded or not.  And, to answer the question posed above, yes it does seem a little bit twisted.

It just goes to show...sometimes you're the craze-er and sometimes you're the craze-ee

Conversation between me and woman in elevator.

Preface:  Woman in elevator is wearing ginormous shiny ring, not diamonds but some kind of sparkly crystals in a huge formation roughly the size of a hardboiled egg.

Me:  "I like your ring"
Woman:  smiles...pushes button for her floor
Me:  "It's so shiny"
Woman:  uncomfortable smile...pushes button fifteen more times...looks scared
Me:  "It's really sparkly and big"
Woman:  frantically pushing buttons...BOLTS out the door when it finally opens on her floor

I can't help it...it was so big and shiny.  I was hypnotized.  I couldn't stop.

A little dinner conversation...

Conversation between me and guy serving me a slice of pizza for dinner (really and truly, to the best of my ability to remember, this is pretty much the exact conversation):

Pizza Guy:  "So, are you from here?"
Me:  "No, I'm here for the summer from TVPNM"
PG:  "Oh yeah...how old are you?"
Me:  "Uhhhh...ummmm...I'll be thirty in a few months"
Intermission for narration:  Pizza Guy is in his mid-forties, and the years have clearly been tough.  He is missing teeth.  He has a bald spot.  He has one gold tooth...in the front. 
PG:  "Really?  Damn...you look good girl!"
Me:  "OK...well thanks"  (try desperately to grab plate with slice of pizza from him)
PG:  "Why you tryin' to run away like that? Are you scared?  You are hot girl.  I'm gonna hold on to this pizza so we can talk some more"
Me:  "Ha..ha...ha...seriously, thanks"  (more desperate grabs for plate)
PG:  "You got a husband?"
Me:  "No...I mean yes"
PG:  "C'mon girl, you got a husband or not, don't lie to me now...you're too pretty to be lying"
Me:  "Uh...I have an ex-husband, but I...uh...I have a boyfriend, yeah, too bad, I've got a boyfriend back inTVPNM"
PG:  "What's his name?"
Me:  "Uhhhh...well...hey can I just get my pizza" (Note to self:  have name of imaginary boyfriend thought up in advance for next time)
PG:  "Well, whoever he is, he's your ex-boyfriend now, because I'm here and I'm about to get all up on you girl"
Me:  "OK...I'll let him know..."
PG:  "Enjoy your dinner, let me know if you need anything"

And then he winked.  EWWWWWW.  Oh god, I'm totally traumatized. 

Evil, pure and simple from the Eighth Dimension!

Oh my god...OCI is completely ruining my life.  OK, that might be a slight exaggeration, but really and truly, I am so sick of cover letters and trying to manipulate the bullet points on my resume that I could scream.  I mean, let's be real here.  I am not in the top 10%, or even the top 25%, and honestly, after a summer of legal work, I am pretty much  not looking forward to thinking about another summer of legal work.  Also, I have a pretty kick ass resume, but I don't have any confidence that it matters in light of my pretty average to just one tiny step above average grades. 

My best friend and I often talk of running away to the coast and starting a bar...tentatively called either The Pink Snapper or The Angry Clam.  Is there a rule against having a bar/law office?  I mean, Ed had a bowling alley/law office...and that seemed to work out OK.  He had a wacky staff, and a cute girlfriend...it was always fun, he won every case in one hour per week, and had a snackbar and shoe sanitizer and presumably a ball waxer (heh heh)  at his personal disposal 24 hours per day.  If Coca~Cola would like to hire me I would gladly take 1/4 of my pay in Diet Coke...I'm just putting that out there in case anyone knows someone who knows someone. 

Seriously though, the only jobs I am really interested in (for real, not just for the summer) are government jobs.  Is OCI worth my time and effort if I really want to work at a state/federal agency next summer (and hopefully permanently)?  You don't have to answer that, I'm just looking for an excuse to quit writing cover letters RIGHT NOW, instead of when I'm actually done.  Do you think it would help if I list this blog under publications?  No?  Really?  Oh well, it was worth a try.  Maybe one day someone who runs a bowling alley/law practice (or better yet a rum factory/Jimmy Buffett fan club/law office) will read this and offer me a summer associate position, and I will say "Hell yeah, bring on the beer and nachos...and don't forget to sanitize my shoes...I want the pink laces this time!  Memo? What memo?" 

Do you think Jimmy Buffett needs a summer law clerk?  What about James Spader?  Damnit.

Officer...I swear I've only had TWO beers.

The point of drinking is to get drunk.  Well duh.

Just Because:  Hot Boys with Hot Accents

  (John Hannah)

   (Colin Firth)

(Ewan McGregor)

(Hugh Grant)

This subject was so popular with my friends that I had to do a gallery to get in all the requested hotties...it's the accent...I'm telling you!

Thanks to frequent commenter Kelly for the picture of beautiful Colin Firth. 

Enjoy.

C.R.A.Z.Y.

The HTML was broken for this, so I put it on here the old-fashioned (boring to look at) way.  Notice though, that I am completely insane.  I am shocked actually that it didn't come out worse.  I mean look, I'm TOTALLY normal on the schizoid scale.  Go me!
 
Disorder Rating
Paranoid: High
Schizoid: Low
Schizotypal: Low
Antisocial: Low
Borderline: Moderate
Histrionic: High
Narcissistic: Very High
Avoidant: Low
Dependent: Moderate
Obsessive-Compulsive: Moderate

Take the test: http://www.4degreez.com/misc/personality_disorder_test.mv
More  information: http://www.4degreez.com/misc/disorder_information2.html
 
(Link via Slithery D)

Michael Jackson to be victimizer...I mean, parent, again.

Michael "Your Creepiness" Jackson to become father to quadruplets.   I am by turns fascinated and horrified that Michael Jackson is to become a father again.  Aside from a very bad period in my misspent youth dedicated to parachute pants and silver gloves, I've never been a huge Michael Jackson fan.  In the abstract, I am even less of a fan of any person who has as many mysteriously creepy dealings with children as Mr. Jackson becoming a father, over and over and over again.   
 
Aside from the innate creepiness of this story, my next thought  is "What kind of crazy ass celebrity baby names will he be coming up with for the forthcoming quads?"  The two kids he already has are named Paris Michael (the girl) and Prince Michael (the boy).  I guess that leaves open a whole plethora of P+ Michael names to choose from.  With quads, I think a theme is wholly appropriate as well.  Federal penitentiaries?  Latin words that when put together form the sentence "Our daddy is a total freak of nature?"  Yup, a theme is the way to go.

Hom Skoold

Today I am working from home.
 
Work (wûrk):
 
1)  Physical or mental effort or activity directed toward the production or accomplishment of something.
 
Something (sum'thing) 
 
1)  The consumption of two dozen 20 oz Diet Cokes in a four hour time period.
2)  The  complete overhaul of my 2L resume to try to make my performance seem even remotely like "Top 10% REQUIRED, Moot Court/Law Review/Cure for Cancer/Neurosurgeon/God-like omniscience PREFERRED."
3)  Three naps in the time period between "getting up late" and "pre-lunch, post-breakfast snacktime."
4)  Going to library to get more romance novels...er, scholarly legal publications.
5)  Producing legal memo for supervisor incorporating both my cursory knowledge of the law and my tenuous  (at best)  grasp on the English language.  It sounds impossible...I know...but I think it can be done.
 
I only hope I can handle it all.
 

Movie Night

Tonight I went to Screen on the Green with a friend of mine from TVPNU who is also here working this summer...she and I decided to brave the possibility of thunderstorms and head on over, and I'm glad we did.  Really cool!  We saw All The President's Men and except for the fact that we had to sit on the ground, which is VERY uncomfortable, it was really neat to just sit outside and watch a movie.  Like a drive-in...but without the car, or the food, or the necking...and with mosquitos, people on cell phones, and booze (carefully concealed by the people on the blanket next to us...in gigantic glass wine bottles...stealthy!).  Really though, it was a good time and I'm looking forward to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde next week.

It's only money.

Things I spent money  on today:
 

• A pair  of these.  They are so pink.  As Larry would say...I heart them.

 

• A plane ticket back to TVPNM.  A week early.  It's a long story, but I had planned to stay until 13 August even though I would have worked more hours than I was getting credit for at school.  But alas, there is not enough  to keep me busy and I can't justify an extra week in D.C. just to hang out with the interns...you know, not drinking and not talking and not having fun.  Plus, I want to start looking for a place to live and I'm excited to get back and see all my friends and still salvage part of my summer.  So, off I go back to the other coast on 7 August. 

 

• A weekend at the Hilton Hotel in D.C. for my best friend M. and I this weekend.  Away from pyscho roommate.  Hooray for room service, maid service, mints on pillows, cable T.V. and a (hopefully) swank hotel bar.  Also, hooray for no psycho roommate.  And did I mention hooray for an entire weekend of shopping and boozing! 

 
 

Just Because: You're FIRED

Dear George,
 
I am very sorry to hear about you getting fired from CSI.  You were very hot in that show, I mean talented.  Now that you are probably looking for work, I wanted to let you know about a job opening that I have in my organization.  I think you would make a fabulous Cabana Boy and look forward to hearing from you, at least until you start work, after which I will pretty much want you to remain silent unless you're saying "Yes Ma'am" and bringing me cookies.  I'm excited to begin bossing you around, I mean working with you.
 
Yours Truly,
Energy Spatula
 

Greetings from Iraq by Capt Shane

I told you earlier that I was hoping to have my friend who just went to Iraq send in occasional updates about what he's been up to and stuff, and lo and behold, here is the first one...on a subject near and dear to my heart, Diet Coke.  Enjoy.
 
Since I've been in Iraq, it's nice to notice that the western world has been influential in its new growth.  In order to celebrate that influence, I thought I'd dedicate my first entry to Energy Spatula.  She has had a love affair with Diet Coke like no one I've ever known.  I didn't think it was possible to be "addicted" to Diet Coke, but she has transcended that idea.  She is a Diet Coke machine.  So in order for her to have a new experience with Diet Coke, I've enclosed a picture of a couple of cans of Coke Light.  It's the European version of Diet Coke.  As you can see from the picture it's written in English and Arabic.  Pretty neat.  I thought that ES would enjoy this, and I hope you do, too.  Oh, before I forget, I also found out that if you have heart problems, that Coke Light can actually kill you.  So much for that "diet cola" is better than regular cola crap.  Well, that's all from sunny Iraq for this week.  Next week we'll talk about how an LMTV (really big f*cking Army truck) took the front left quarter panel and bumper off our van.
 
Take care,
Capt Shane
 

 
PS:  I've linked to this before, but if you want to learn more about The Cult of Diet Coke (including links about whether or not aspartame kills), click here.  For the record, I've decided that I get to have a couple vices in life, and Diet Coke is one of them.  Aspartame is the least of my damn worries.

I do wish we could chat longer, but I'm having an old friend for dinner.

So, for the past four weeks I have refrained from talking about my summer roommate on here because, well, it just seemed kind of wrong.  I mean, she's a little odd, but she's never done anything to me...so why even go into it.  Right?  WRONG!  As it turns out, I am living with a complete and total psychotic crazy insane person.
 
Exhibit A:  She makes a grilled cheese sandwich with bacon for dinner EVERY SINGLE NIGHT.  On Pepperidge Farm Cinnamon Swirl Bread.
 
Exhibit B:  She frequently has long, hysterical, crying, melodramatic conversations in her room with the door shut...but  who with? Boyfriend?  Mother?  Father?  Lover?  Unruly pet? And I mean hysterical. There is wailing.  Actual wailing.
 
Exhibit C:  She does not like me or think that I am the least bit funny.  OK, maybe that's not evidence, but it's certainly a character flaw of epic proportions.
 
Exhibit D:  Her door was cracked the other day and she was sitting and watching T.V., so I knocked to let her know there was an extra Coke in the fridge from the other day when I was mixing drinks...and that she could have it because I only drink Diet Coke (when there's no rum in the house at least).  Even though her door was cracked she jumped about ten feet off the bed and then HID SOMETHING under her comforter...something that she had been stroking in her lap. It looked like a shirt or a blanket of some sort.
 
Exhibit E:  Today, I got home from the gym and went to take a shower and she was having one of the conversations described in Exhibit B, by herself, in the kitchen.  BY HERSELF.  ALONE. 
 
That's right folks.  There is no boyfriend/lover/mother/unruly pet.  This whole time, she has been having hysterical conversations WITH HERSELF.  Sometimes she's been so loud it's woken me up from a deep sleep, but I figured, hey, what kind  of real trouble can be going on over the phone...since there was no one in her room beating the living daylights out of her, and clearly she doesn't want to be friends despite my many overtures, I decided to just let it go.  Until now.
 
Crazy Psycho Roommate From Hell Plan of Action is officially in effect.  The threat warning is Orange: High.

Step 1:  Sleep with door locked.
Step 2:  Shower with door locked.
Step 3:  Check seal on Diet Coke before drinking.  Check seal again.  Drink Diet Coke in Locked Bathroom.
Step 4:  Do not give her water after midnight.
Step 5:  Do not investigate strange noises, no matter how tempting.  That never turns out good for the non-insane roommate.
Step 6:  Figure out way to get her in front of mirror.  Check for reflection.
Step 7:  Weave fashionable, yet practical, necklace out of garlic.
Step 8:  Slowly dig escape tunnel under bed with plastic spoon in case of blood-curdling midnight emergency.  Monitor progress with map on wall drawn with the sooty tips of spent matches used  to light the way.
Step 9:  Double check lock on bedroom door.  Check again.
 
That's all the steps I can think of right now.  I have to get going to the kitchen to throw away all the plastic knives from the bag of utensils I bought, and maybe the forks too.  And check my Diet Coke.  And lock my door.  And start the tunnel.

Another one, sadly, does not bite the dust.

Man (to friend):  "Oh my god, this is gonna be so funny...I'm gonna light this illegal mortar rocket and throw it out the window at someone...heh heh."
Friend:  "Hell yeah.  That is so funny."
Man (now on fire):  "AAARRRGGGHHHH"
Friend:  "Guess you should have rolled down the window dude."
 
In a surprising twist...alcohol was involved.
 
A new front-runner in the ongoing search for members of Team Natural Selection.  Seems like we just can't keep them healthy.

It puts the lotion on it's skin...

This guy not only kissed a 12 year-old girl's feet while she was sitting on a bench reading, he asked to KISS HER LIVER!!!  Another woman, who was napping in a park, woke up to this same pervy guy licking her toes.  The article states that "The man told her she had beautiful feet, then put all five of her toes into his mouth."  
 
I can't really imagine a compulsion that is so strong it drives you to lick feet.  Especially a stranger's feet.  All I can think of is my mom's voice saying "you have NO idea where those feet have been."   
 
(Simul-posted at L^3)

There's a very valid reason for summer vacation: the human brain needs rest.*

We are having this conference at work that involves a whole bunch of people from around the country being here for training. Many of these people are former military, especially Marines (don't know why, but it's true). One of the lawyers in my office invited me down to observe part of the training and I eagerly accepted, thinking it would be interesting and also keep me from having to put any major work into the memo I was just assigned, you know, the one I begged to do and am now procrastinating over (after 4 weeks of no legal-think I'm having writer's block).

So today we're standing at our training location, a major touristy area here in D.C., and someone asks me which way the Washington Monument is. Since I can't see it, I just sort of do an all inclusive sweeping motion with my hand...generally indicating the greater D.C. metropolitan area. This prompts head Former Marine Guy to say "Weren't you in the Air Force? Didn't they teach you how to tell direction? Don't you know which way is West?" I in turn answer "In the Air Force they taught me how to make Powerpoint Slides and work an air conditioner." Cue about 5 or 6 former Marines laughing their asses off.

And, in another piece of military related news, a really good Air Force buddy of mine headed out for Iraq this past weekend (we'll call him S., in the interest of his anonymity since he hasn't told me I can use a name). We were next door neighbors at Officer Training School and in the past five or six years he and his wife have become very close friends (close friends of mine...thanks to an astute reader in the comments for keeping me grammatically correct). Anyway, the point is that IF he has time, and IF he has access to his email, he is going to keep track of some stuff (hopefully interesting/funny stuff) that happens so I can post it here once in a while. He's a hilarious guy and I promised him that if he sends me a paragraph here and there I will put it up...he also indicated that if he can get some digital pic's he'll send those as well...we'll just have to see what his internet and time resources end up being. Right now he has told me that the temperature is approximately 12 degrees hotter than the surface of the sun, and that if I want to send a care package I should send chocolate because he can't get it there. So, anyway, hopefully this will work out...he's going to try for a weekly email and we'll just see how it goes.

*Summer School...Mark Harmon and Kirstie Alley at their very best.

When Port-a-Potty's Attack

I just know this guy was like "Damn...it's time for my break and I'm gonna go sit on the crapper and have me a cigarette..."

It's not his fault he doesn't know about methane gas buildup, right? The story says "the man was not severely injured and drove himself to Clay-Battelle Community Health Center." I guess that depends on your characterization of "seriously injured." Almost blowing yourself up in a Port-a-Potty has gotta be a pretty severe blow to the ego. I'm just saying.

Why is that toy on your head*?

For those of you wondering what to do with the fishtank that you have lying around in your garage until your next garage sale...why not smash your head through it and then wear it as a hat while you wander the streets, “semiconscious and combative?”

They should have put a label on that aquarium warning that it could be dangerous if used in a manner such as this...when I am lawyer this is exactly the client I am going to be looking for. My initial client interview checklist will start out with easy questions, like "How many times a week do you blow dry your hair while sitting in the bathtub?" From there it will get a little more difficult, like "Have you ever poured gasoline on your grill to help it light?" Finally, I will end with a hardball, like "How many times have you consumed 15 pints of beer and then stored a sawed-off shotgun in your pants only to blow your own testicles off?" Anyone who can't pass the screening can't be a client of Energy Spatula, Esq. I have a good feeling about this business plan. A real good feeling.

*Title courtesy of Real Genius...the best movie ever. Simul-posted at L^3.

Just Because: The Franchise

Just Because: Benjamin Bratt (aka: The Boy Most Likely To Be My Cabana Boy In My Dreams)





(history of JB: The Franchise, and a HOT pic of The Rock, here)

Peer Mentoring: The Energy Spatula Crash Course in Liver Destruction

So, I know I've maligned peer mentoring in the past...but (and don't laugh) I signed up to be one for next year's incoming crop of bright and shiny 1L's. Really and truly I think peer mentoring can be entirely valuable, it's just that the people it was valuable for in my experience weren't people like me. So, I'm hoping to be able to talk to some of the incoming 1L's that are non-traditional students, people who have quit careers to go to law school, or former military people who are venturing into civilian life as newly minted law students. I'm not sure what great advice I will be able to give them...but I'm gonna try anyway.

Also, OCI bidding has officially started which means that I am officially totally lost. Yay. I have no idea what firms to bid for. I'm really pretty sure the only thing I'm interested in is federal agency type places, but of course, they don't come to OCI really...at least not at TVPNU. There are a couple of firms that sound good, or that I've heard good things about word of mouth, so they are definitely on the list...but who knows...I'm not even CLOSE to the top 10% and even with a lot of prior work experience and whatnot, I'm not sure I'm really the target candidate for a firm. It's not that I don't care about law school, it's that the only parts that I find interesting are the practical parts, and the rest is just sort of a distraction for me. Grades are not a huge issue because I don't feel connected to them. For the most part, the grades I got are just sort of arbitrary letters put onto a sheet of paper with my name on it...I don't feel like I earned, or didn't earn, any of them. And to get totally off the subject, that has been my sort of one disgruntlement in my summer employment. Some of the other interns seem perfectly happy to do assignments that are just for show...just so they have a writing sample, or a bullet point for their resume. I however, being a total prima donna, want to LEARN something. I'm not happy writing a memo no one will ever read. I want to produce WORK! I MISS being in the workplace and was looking forward to a summer of PRODUCTIVITY and PRACTICAL HANDS ON LEARNING. Alas, not so much. I did however get an assignment today...not a hugely glamorous topic, but something I think I can learn from, so for the time being I guess the past few sentences are a moot point. Not to worry though...I will be back to being disgruntled soon enough! :)

Last but not least...Jimmy Buffett released his new album today...License To Chill. YAY!

Team Natural Selection: UK

Good to see that even in dignified England there are people drinking 15 pints of beer and shoving sawed off shotguns down their pants. In a turn of events that can only bring to mind a true Team Natural Selection contender, the victim, David Walker had gone home to get his shotgun after arguing with his "lifelong" friend Stuart Simpson about whose turn it was to buy a round. Mr.Walker proceeded to show Mr. Simpson who the boss was by blowing a big gaping hole in his own manhood. Nice.

(Thanks to Steven for the link)

Update.

Here is an update to the story about Kentucky a couple of posts down.


(link here)

Yummy.

The Ultimate Cocktail

1 part pineapple juice
Marachino cherries (go crazy...as many as you like)
3 parts antifreeze

Serve to brother-in-law until dead.

Life: Kentucky is looking for a new slogan.

Kentucky is looking for a new slogan. Something that doesn't bring to mind trailer parks, tornados, moonshine, or marrying your sister. Apparently Kentucky has been stewing over a comment made by Craig Kilborn over four years ago in which he called the state "Ken-sucky" after a tornado ripped through and wiped out a bunch of trailer parks. State officials have put on their collective thinking caps and are trying desperately to come up with a slogan that represents the state. The creative director for the promotion firm handling the project has this to say:

"Kentucky is neither North nor South, it's not too big or too small, too hot or too cold," Kokai said. "It really gets at the question: What are we? Well, we're a nice combination."

Inspiring, huh?

So, you might be asking yourselves, what are some of the early contenders? Well, here ya go:

"Kentucky: Unbridled."

"Kentucky: And you're off!"

"My Kentucky: Make it yours."

Yeah. I think there are gonna be some problems. Maybe they should just let Craig Kilborn and Conan O'Brien write the slogan and get it over with. Using the word "Unbridled" in your state slogan is just asking for trouble...and the other two just make me wonder if they're taking this seriously. I see the potential here for some very bad outcomes.

(simul-posted at L^3)

Drinking helps make it all better...

I have to point out that the Google ads on my blog this morning were for a training class or video or something for new dads, and interviewing techniques for people looking for jobs. The related searches? Alcoholic drinks, and drinking. That rocks. Having a baby? Have a drink! Need a new job? Got a big important interview coming up? Have a drink! I'm taking this to heart...OCI and alcoholic beverages -- like peanut butter and jelly...and a drink.

Mmmmmmm bacon.

Porky and 499 of his closest friends go before firing squad for getting it on with local dogs. Just say no to interspecies lovin'.

Back in the game...

Hello...I was out sick (metaphorically) for a couple of days, but now I'm back and ready to do some updating.

First, yesterday I went to the Renwick Gallery (at the suggestion of Milbarge) and found it to be really interesting. The Ghost Clock, which is I guess one of their more famous exhibits, is AMAZING. It's a wooden grandfather clock that looks like it's draped with a white sheet. But really, the whole thing is a piece of carved wood and it's painted so the sheet looks incredibly real. I am not doing justice to it at all, but it really was amazing. I went with a friend from school and I think it's safe to say we both thought it was the highlight of the Gallery. Afterwords, we went to the Hard Rock Cafe, where I had a truly inspirational pina colada, it was SOOOO wonderful. I don't know if it's because I had just walked about 3 miles in the heat, but it was an emotionally moving moment that I had...it was that good.

Second, last night, after we both took naps and tried to recover from the ghastly heat, we went to Fado. It was a really great bar...plenty of places to sit, not too crowded (at least until it started to get pretty late), all the Harp a girl could drink (about 7 by my count before the whole "passing out" part started), and just a generally good atmosphere. A fun Irish bar.

Third (and I have no idea why I'm labeling these paragraphs...I just kind of feel like it), I am heading to Maryland again to see my friend and her family. Like last weekend, I intend to vegetate on their couch and watch some TV and drink Diet Coke. I offered to babysit for them while I'm here and she said they would pay me and I was like "are you kidding, you have DIGITAL CABLE"...I'm climbing the walls here in the summer apartment due to lack of television, so any respite is more than welcome. Plus, they have snacks.

Fourth, I have been looking for a place to live when I get back to TVPNM and I think I've found some really good ideas, so I'm getting excited to potentially go back and get my own place and get my furniture out of storage (where it's been for over a year now) and set up my little place to call home. I was talking to British Friend the other day about sort of settling in to a new place and not treating it like a vacation, and I realized that I do that a lot. Having moved probably about 20-25 times growing up and i