D'oh!

I saw a homeless guy walking on the sidewalk yesterday. And then, we made eye contact, and he turned out to be my ex-bf. OH SNAP! I just stared for a minute, and then I told Ex-Roomie about it tonight while we were at the bar and she said "If nothing else ever happens to you to show you that he was just NOT GOOD ENOUGH for you, this should be it!!!" I mean, he's NOT homeless, he just looks homeless. And isn't that worse somehow? He's letting his hair grow out. He told me he was going to do that, so he could "get some dreadlocks." Yeah. It's like, is there anyone more unsuitable for me In The Entire World?? NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

HELLLLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOO!

Dear Bar That Has Chimay On Tap,

I heart you, now and forever. You make me so very happy...like the song.

Love, and hugs, and kisses (with tongue),

E. Spat.

Trivia and tidbits.

Pelagic.

pe·lag·ic
adj.

Of, relating to, or living in open oceans or seas rather than waters adjacent to land or inland waters: pelagic birds.

I can't go drinking until Ex-Roomie gets out of class. Sigh. So, instead I am working on my paper...the scintillating topic is the Alaskan Sablefish, a/k/a Black Cod fishery. Female sablefish produce pelagic eggs. Just think how clever you'll sound at your next cocktail party with that little bit'o'trivia hidden away in the recesses of your mind. Here's some more -- Sperm Whales have figured out how to use the sound of boat engines to find free food, already all nice and caught for them. Smart little buggers...they even listen specifically for the sound of the longliners turning their engines on and off as they haul in the nets.

I'm disappointed that more of you didn't seem interested in the Exxon Reopener. For one, it's actually probably only about the second legally related thing I've ever put on this blog. And second, it's actually really interesting, and the issue could use the support of getting it out there so that people know that Alaska and Prince William Sound are still suffering the aftereffects of the spill in a way that is very tangible. Oh well, that's what I get for trying to be serious I suppose.

Lastly, I tried to look at the blog on Explorer at school today, and it was all funky. I only use Mozilla, so can the Explorer people comment on whether or not the blog looks all weird to them...like the links are way down at the bottom and stuff??

Two things.

1. Today is my last class of law school EVER. I will be done at 10:30. Then....we drink! (Big surprise there, I'm sure).

2. I FINALLY gave in and got a Myspace account so I could keep up with all my friends who blog on there and stuff. The whole shebang has my real info on it, so I'm going to be very selective with who I give my info to, but if you have a page and want to exchange information, AND you're someone I either know in real life or we've talked on email enough for me to know (or at least think) I can trust you, drop me a line.

Exxon Was Here: Make them pay!

UPDATE: If you'd like to do some scholarly reading on this topic, see here (From 22 Alaska L. Rev. 135):

THE EXXON VALDEZ REOPENER:
NATURAL RESOURCES DAMAGE
SETTLEMENTS AND ROADS NOT TAKEN

You can follow the link in the article and just read the part about the Reopener Clause if you're interested in seeing exactly what it is. The article is written, in part, by one of my professors.

OK, I have a very special post today, a request from my good friend Guacamole Kid. Most of you who are regular readers have heard me talk about GK quite a bit, he's a good friend, a drinking buddy, a surrogate brother, and an all-around nice guy. I've mentioned it before, but in case you weren't paying attention, GK is an Alaska guy, a commercial fisherman, and has made his living that way for (if memory serves) close to 30 years...since he was a wee teenager. The issues below are near and dear to his heart, he cares very deeply about the ongoing environmental problems surrounding the Exxon Valdez oil spill and has worked on this issue extensively for many years. He asked me to post a link to an article that's posted in Craigslist, but I'm going to do one better and post the link plus the article in its entirety, with the pictures, here on the blog (that's GK's hand you see in the pictures).

If this is an issue you care about, I URGE you to at least link to the CL post, but it would also be great if you reposted the content on your blog, or even just linked back to me. Anything that gets the word out helps. Thanks!

RANT: Exxon -- Make 'em Pay!

Posted below are pictures of oil spilled by the Exxon Valdez in March 1989, taken in Prince William Sound, Alaska TWO WEEKS ago. The Exxon Valdez's crude oil is there, everywhere -- all that is required to find it is landing on a beach in Prince William Sound and moving a few rocks, some sand and mud.

The Exxon Valdez oil spill irreparably harmed the previously almost pristine ecosystem of Prince William Sound, and with it, innumerable commercial fishermen who depended on the Sound's bounty for their livelihood. Also seriously hurt in the spill were Alaska Natives, especially those who, until the events of March 24, 1989, engaged in a fulfilling subsistence-based lifestyle. Thanks to Exxon, this lifestyle is no longer possible for the Natives of Prince William Sound.

Exxon claims that all damages from the spill have been repaired, that the Sound is thriving, and that no effects from the oil are still felt today. These pictures prove that that story is a lie. Yet, Exxon maintains this lie, because if it can be proven that "unforeseen damages" still exist from the spill, they may have to pay up to $100,000,000 more to repair those damages.

Here's why: the original settlement signed by the U.S. Government, the State of Alaska, and Exxon required Exxon to pay $900 million in damages to the Governments. It further called for the creation of a Trustee Council, composed of three appointees of the United States and three from Alaska, to be charged with spending the settlement monies to restore the damaged environment in and around Prince William Sound. The settlement also included the following “Reopener for Unknown Injury”:

Notwithstanding any other provision of this Agreement, between September 1, 2002, and September 1, 2006, Exxon shall pay to the Governments such additional sums as are required for the performance of restoration projects in Prince William Sound and other areas affected by the Oil Spill to restore one or more populations, habitats, or species which, as a result of the Oil Spill, have suffered a substantial loss or substantial decline in the areas affected by the Oil Spill; provided, however, that for a restoration project to qualify for payment under this paragraph the project must meet the following requirements:

(a) the cost of a restoration project must not be grossly disproportionate to the magnitude of the benefits anticipated from the remediation; and
(b) the injury to the affected population, habitat, or species could not reasonably have been known nor could it reasonably have been anticipated by any Trustee from any information in the possession of or reasonably available to any Trustee on the Effective Date.

These additional sums for restoration projects are capped at $100 million. In order to invoke the Reopener, the Governments are required to “file with Exxon, 90 days before demanding any payment pursuant to Paragraph 17, detailed plans for all such restoration projects, together with a statement of all amounts they claim should be paid under Paragraph 17 and all information upon which they relied in the preparation of the restoration plan and the accompanying cost statement.”

The Spill's effects on the environment and people of Prince William Sound and Alaska persist. Please CALL YOUR SENATOR OR REPRESENTATIVE and tell them to demand that the Federal government pursue the $100,000,000 -- ExxonMobil can afford it, they made $36 BILLION last year!

Rep. Dave Reichert: Rep. Reichert has hinted that he would sponsor a resolution demanding Exxon pay -- call his office and voice your support!
(206) 275-3438

Sen. Lisa Murkowski (R-AK): Sen. Murkowski has also voiced support for exercising the reopener -- call her and tell her you support her demand that the Government pursue the reopener money!!
202-224-6665

Sen. Patty Murray:
(206) 553-5545

Sen. Maria Cantwell
(206) 220-6400

Where's my committee??

How come you people aren't forming a committee for me? I think you just don't love me as much as her friends love her. What's up with that? How about we make a deal, if I'm still single in a year (okay, in six months)...(okay, in four months)...you form a committee. It's either that or we make a pact that if we (by which I mean "I") all hit 35 and we're (by which I still mean "I") still single, we go ahead and get married, and that could be messy considering there's a lot of you and only one me. And some of you are already married, which could be awkward, and probably illegal.

I'm not contrite.

When I joined my gym the other day, the high-pressure sales guy sort of rushed me through the whole process (trying to make sure he got my money) and one of the things he did was sign me up for an appointment with a personal trainer. Apparently I get a certain number of training sessions free with my membership, and while I appreciate that, I don't have TIME for a personal trainer right now.

I explained to him when I signed up that my ONLY goal for the gym was to just get there. Basically the only reason I go to the gym anymore is to try to relieve stress...I don't have the time or the energy to be all worried about a strict training regimen.

So, anyway, this morning I realized that I had a personal training appointment scheduled for this afternoon, and of course, I'm knee-deep in getting a quarter's worth of reading out of the way, figuring out a good paper topic, and trying to get three weeks of laundry done.

I called and told the guy who answered the phone (coincidentally the same guy who signed me up) that I wanted to cancel my appointment. He goes "Well, you know that there's a fee if you don't cancel at least 24-hours in advance?" And I go "Oh really?" He fires back with "Didn't whoever signed you up for the appointment tell you that?" I'm thinking "Look jackass, YOU signed me up" but instead I say "Well, they might have, I don't remember, but regardless I need to cancel my appointment." Then he asks me, "Are you OK?" Ummmm...yeah...I just don't want to come down there today. God.

Eventually he tells me that he'll tell the guy I'm not coming but that "normally" I'd have to pay for the session. I didn't even bother to argue with him that the stupid session is something I never wanted in the first place.

I know that the poor personal trainer is just trying to make a living, and if he knows far enough in advance he can schedule an actual paying client in the spot that I'm cancelling. But, honestly, I just paid a lot of money to join this gym AND I got strong-armed into an appointment I don't want or need, so I'm just having a hard time feeling all the guilty. I know I should have just gone down there and went to the stupid appointment, but I'm 31 years old, I've been going to gyms for the last 12 or 13 years, and I don't need someone to show me how to use the leg press machine. And I certainly don't need a training schedule made up for me that will just make me feel like a failure when I am far too busy during bar review to adhere to it. Yeah, what I need in my life is one more thing I'm obligated to do. Gack.

UPDATE: Oh my GOD...the poor personal trainer just called me. "Hello, E. Spat? Yeah, this is Matt, the personal trainer from The Gym? Yeah, I was just wondering if you were going to show up or not?" I told him I had called and cancelled and he's like "Oh, well, sorry. Guess I didn't get the message. Do you want to reschedule?" NOOOOOOOOOOOO! I told him I was a law student and in the middle of exams...for once being in law school is actually sort of convenient. I don't know why, but I'm so embarrassed. I am SO glad that they don't know who I am really, I don't want to run into this guy one day and have him ask me about why I didn't show up. I generally have a really strong personality but I just hate personal confrontation -- I'll do anything to avoid it, and now I've had two things in one day. I'm gonna need a nap.

Ocean and Coastal Law Outline?

Does anyone have a good outline for Ocean and Coastal Law? We are using the Kalo book, which I think is the standard text used for this subject, and I know there are probably other coastal schools that offer the course, at least once in awhile (I think Univ. of Oregon and Lewis and Clark both offer the course). I have a billion pages of notes, a partial outline, and lots of stuff I've printed out from other sources, but if somebody has a good outline, I'd be exceedingly grateful for some structure for all this junk I've got floating around.

Also, why do people have to whisper while they read? If we've all managed to make it to law school, shouldn't we be able to control the impulse to read out loud (in a WHISPER no less) when in public and around other people who are trying to study?? Geez.

Anyway, exams are in a week and a half, and I still have a HUGE paper left to write as well, so I better get my nose back to the grindstone.

Weekly Law School Roundup #20

Congrats to Kristine at divine angst, she's the new keeper of the Law School Weekly Roundup as I graduate and (hopefully) move on to a less law school type of blog. Today's Roundup is posted over at Evan Schaeffer's Legal Underground, and next week, she'll be putting it up at her place. Make sure you help her out with links -- it can be more time consuming than you think trying to come up with 10-15 good links for a Roundup, no person can possibly be reading every law student blog out there, so the links are super-helpful.

I had a great time doing the Roundup...thanks to everyone who helped me out, and especially to Evan for letting me participate!!

Pseudo SNL

I got home from the movies about a half hour ago, and although I couldn't stay awake THERE, now that I am HERE I can't fall asleep. And, after SNL is done, we have this local skit comedy show that comes on. It is so awful. I wish I could explain how truly wretched and terrible it is, but I don't think I even have the words. Stupid skits and sketches, a terrible stand-up comedian, a news segment that is just jokes about local news and all the outlying cities and suburbs that TVPNM people consider to be full of rubes and peasants (ie: not funny at all in any way, shape, or form).

The stand-up comedian didn't get a laugh for a full two or three minutes, and then regressed into "my girlfriend is a nagging bitch" and masturbation jokes. Oh, hilarious. Seriously. And then, to top things off, he did a "levitation" bit, involving purposely falling off a chair for a laugh. Totally unfunny. And the "volunteer" he picked from the audience to help him fall off the chair was just so northwest...she has on mom jeans, a sweatshirt with an elk or a deer or some other wierd antler-ed animal on it, and red rubber shoes made out of recycled 2-liter bottles or bike tires or some shit like that. God.

I wish I could go to sleep. I should go be a stand-up comedian if my job doesn't work out. If you can make it being, literally, the unfunniest man to ever walk the planet Earth, I should be good to go. I mean, I might have to get everyone drunk first, but at least there's a fighting chance they'll laugh! Even though I'm home alone, I almost feel uncomfortable watching a bunch of people who aren't funny trying to be funny. It's so awkward.

They like me, they really, really like me!

Yesterday at work I got to out to a fishing vessel and do my first real investigation-type thing. It was so exciting! I was talking to a witness and he offered to take me out to the boat where the accident I'm working on took place and give me a tour. So, after my boss said "Hey, go for it!" I called him back and took him up on his offer, and he came and picked me up and took me out to where the boat is.

When I got out to the vessel, the witness (former captain of the boat) helped me on board, and I walked around taking pictures while he showed me where everything had happened. Since I hadn't planned on doing anything like that yesterday, I was wearing boots with 3" heels. The poor guy was really nice and walked around right behind me, I think worried that I was going to fall down and either bust my ass on the deck, or fall into the water or something. But, it all worked out and I got tons of good pictures, and a lot of good information out of the witness.

I am so excited that my bosses trusted me enough to let me get out of the office and do something, anything, related to a real investigation. I've done more paperwork in the last month than I ever though possible, and I think I'm doing a good job of learning how to do my job, and taking care of about a million details on so many different cases all at one time. But, this is the first time they've let me out of the office to interact with an ongoing investigation. YAY!

The guy couldn't meet me until 5pm, and my boss said "Are you sure that's OK with you? It's Friday night!" And I said "Oh my God, I'm so excited, I don't care what time it is!" She goes "You are REALLY going to fit in here...I can already tell." YAY AGAIN! I love this job so much! The people are awesome, the work is interesting, and I'm getting to do all the things I love to do. I'm good at being social, I'm good at keeping track of a lot of things all at once, and I'm good at connecting with people and getting information and figuring out complicated situations, and those are all things that are integral to my success at this job. I'm so sad that next week is my last week and I have to go back to my paltry law school existence for two months.

Anyway, back to the real world I suppose - I have exams in a week, which means I better get some reading done in the two classes that I haven't been paying attention to for the past eight weeks. I'm going to see The DaVinci Code tonight, so perhaps I'll have something to say about that tomorrow.

If I want to drink up, you won't even toast.

When I was in 7th and 8th grades, I lived in South Korea. My dad was stationed in Korea, at Osan Air Base, and since this was before Osan became a place that people often took their families, I had to attend school in Seoul, at the Army base there. It was an American High School run by the Department of Defense, and had grades 7-12 all in one gigantic complex at Yongsan Army Base...I'm sure it's probably still there.

Anyway, it was a looooooooooong drive every day from Osan to Seoul, about 2 hours each way. Our buses left around 5am, and we often got home around 6pm. I don't remember how many buses went up every day when I was in 7th grade, but I remember in 8th grade it was 5 buses. The buses were modern for the time (late 1980's), and they had a tape player controlled generally by a vicious bus driver, but no videos or anything else that would make spending four hours a day in them even remotely bearable.

Just in case any of you were in doubt, let me explain my agonizing existence in 1988. In 1988, girls were wearing tight Guess jeans, pastel sweatshirts with belts slung carefully casually about the waist, white Ked's, and pale pink lipstick. In 1988, E. Spat was chubby, with glasses, bad skin, a spiral perm, and no Guess jeans because they didn't fit me, and although I would try to squeeze into them, they just looked so awful you wouldn't even believe it. I embraced the oversize sweatshirt look, but only succeeded in making myself look even chubbier than I already was. I did have Ked's, but mainly because you could get them in Korea for like $3 a pair, a price my mom was willing to pay to get me off her ass about it.

1988 was painful for me. 1988 was the year a boy named Ryan asked me to "go out" with him, and then I found out it was joke and he and all his friends were laughing about it and telling everyone how stupid and gullible I was. 1988 was the year that I realized that no matter how cool I was on the inside, it totally didn't matter if it didn't come in a skinny, Guess jean-ed package. 1988 was the year that showed me that there will always be a girl (in my case, Theresa) in a blue London Fog trench coat that perfectly showcased her slender figure, with highlights in her hair and perfect skin and long fingernails and a Walkman with a tape player AND a radio, who will scream at you across the hallway in front of all her beautiful friends "HEY, NICE JEANS, WHERE'S THE FLOOD?? HAHAHAHAHA." 1988 was the year I discovered the spiral perm, dying my own hair, lighting my black eyeliner to get it to go on thicker, shaving my legs, wearing glitter eye shadow, eating candy in secret, and hurting myself in various and sundry ways to try to relieve the pain of being.

But, I digress.

In 1988, while I was riding the bus four hours a day to get to and from school, through two toll booths surrounded by rabid anti-American demonstrators waving signs reading "Yankee go home" and throwing Molotov cocktails, I was listening to music. EVERYONE had a Walkman. It was Korea, and you could get one for practically nothing. And if you were really lucky your dad would go TDY (like a military business trip) to Japan and bring you back a really cool one. With interchangeable color faceplates. Or one that would automatically flip the tape. Oooooooooooooh. So, everyone on the bus had a Walkman, and everyone on the bus had tapes.

Here's how the bus hierarchy worked. The back row of seats went all the way across...so five seats. In the five back seats sat the most popular of all the popular kids. Thin, beautiful, graceful girls in expensive clothes, and tan, muscular, skateboarding guys with devil-may-care attitudes and soulful eyes. Then, the bus was divided, roughly, by grade and popularity. The higher grade kids sat in the back, moving forward to the 7th and 8th graders who sat at the front. BUT, if you were a 10th grader with bad skin, or you were fat, or somehow undesirable in any other way, you got relegated to the front of the bus. Being a 7th grader who was fat AND had bad skin meant I got a cush seat right in front next to the driver and the girl who got bus sick once a week. If there'd been a way to sit outside the bus, say on the front bumper, that's where I would have been sent.

So, the Backseat Five had one of the most special of all special privileges. They got to control the tape player on the bus. There was absolutely no input allowed from anyone else on the bus, including the driver, and God help the lowly non-back-seater who dared to speak up against the choice. And I remember, at the time, thinking these kids were SO COOL. I wanted to BE the skinny girl in tight jeans and an off the shoulder sweatshirt and white Ked's that never seemed to get dirty. The girl who could fold her notes into special shapes, and got to be in charge of the Slam Book, and always got roses and balloons delivered to homeroom on Valentine's Day when the student government would sell them to raise money. In fact, I would eventually spend most of my life wanting to be those girls. I watched them, tried to emulate them, would lay in bed at night promising God that if He would just let me wake up thin and beautiful I would do ANYTHING, anything, anything.

Korea, at that time, was the land of bootleg tapes. You could get any tape for a couple of bucks, or less. So, when the Backseat Five would play tapes on the bus, whatever they played automatically went on my "must purchase" list. And what was so great, so wonderful, so absolutely spectacularly fabulous that I would squirrel away all my precious allowance that wasn't being spent on secret candy bars and glitter eyeliner to buy it?

Bobby Brown. Yeah, you heard me. Bobby Brown. Don't Be Cruel.

Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam

Miami Sound Machine

Kylie Minogue

Taylor Dayne

Tiffany

Samantha Fox

Rick Astley

Rick Motherf*cking Astley.

We just got this new radio station here in the TVPNM and it plays ALL these songs, and I know EVERY WORD to EVERY SONG. Today on the way to school I sang Don't Be Cruel and I knew every word, every pause, every spoken part. All of it.

And I got to thinking about it, and I thought these people were the coolest of the cool, these people were who I would have given ANYTHING to be. And they listed to Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam! They idolized Gloria freaking Estafan!

On my own little Walkman I was listening to music that I would have rather died than have anyone find out about. INXS. U2. REM. They Might Be Giants. Skinny Puppy. The Smiths (I think). Erasure (I know). Depeche Mode. Midnight Oil (how CAN we sleep when the beds are burning?).

Oh my God, I was totally cool. I mean, maybe Erasure wasn't cool, but I was definitely hip for the time, especially considering my fairly limited circumstances. I mean, we didn't even get real TV or movies. The soldiers who were coming over, and the kids who were just arriving from the States, were bringing new music all the time, and I was keeping up with it. Unfortunately, the kids who liked REM and Depeche Mode were dressed all in black and wearing "weird" clothes and dying their hair black...all things I would embrace at different times in my adolescence, but I was still too enamored with what I thought I needed to be. And, I guess I would say that even when I dyed my hair black and wore combat boots and thigh-high black fishnets, I might have been convinced I was fooling people into thinking I didn't care, but looking back I doubt very seriously anyone was really all that bamboozled.

I was cool. I mean, by my own subjective criteria now, I was cool. That's quite a revelation. I wish I had all those years of wanting to be a skinny Theresa in Guess jeans and a London Fog trench and perfectly highlighted hair back. I mean, I know listening to one band or another doesn't make anyone cool or not cool, but I heard Don't Be Cruel this morning and all of the sudden I thought back to 1988 me, and a lot of weird things in my life made sense. Something to think about.

Question 'O' The Day

Twist-off caps on wine bottles:

Facilitator of my burgeoning alcoholism

OR

Modern convenience allowing me to easily place bottle back into fridge after only one glass

??????

Anonymous Lawyer

I got my advance copy of Jeremy Blachman's new book, Anonymous Lawyer. For those of you living on Mars, this book is the result of the blog he ran runs (oops!) of the same name...a blog that I actually never read. I am excited to start reading it, and maybe I'll even be a better reviewer than someone that was totally into the website. I'm a clean slate, if you will.

There was even a nice handwritten note from the publisher inside the cover. I feel so loved.

I'm in the middle of another book right now, but once I'm done with that I'm going to start Anonymous Lawyer. And then you'll know what I know, once I know it I mean.

Oh yeah, it had a nice cover...an outline of a lawyer-type person, with red devil horns. And it's blue.

I need a pinch weasel!

I managed to make it to the Overpriced Gym today. The first day is the hardest I think, it feels like high school or something. I wished I was wearing makeup.

I decided that while watching the Lost season finale I must have Chinese food, so I'm going to do it. After all, what good is living alone, and working so that you'll have some spending money, if you can't spend it on Chinese food and sitting around on your couch in boxers and a Senor Frog t-shirt that you stole from a one-night stand sometime in the past?

I've got a few potential post topics percolating around in my brain, we'll see what happens with those. Right now, I have priorities. Like chilling the wine and ordering the food.

Well, well, well.

This is a little something I like to call "Daddy Spatula's Mid-Life Crisis On Wheels."

What's funny about the picture, although I blacked it out in the interest of preserving anonymity, is that my MOM is the one behind the wheel, and I suspect that now that Daddy Spatula purchased another sports car (there is a long history of sports cars coming through the Spatula house), he probably will never get to drive it again. I also predict that once my mom gets about 10 tickets in it the first year, he'll sell it, buy another Harley, and then SHE'LL want a Harley, so they'll have two Harleys, and then they'll sell those, and...TA-DA...buy another sports car. Life is pretty predictable at Chez Spatula.

Today is the first day of the rest of...well...let's go with this week for now. I can't handle the commitment.

Last night, around 6:30pm, I became the proud owner of a brand new, overpriced, and likely to be underused, gym membership. My school has a fantastic gym, but after I graduate in two weeks I won't be able to go there anymore, and thanks to the genius tactic of high-pressure sales, I was talked into purchasing a new gym membership roughly 3.1 seconds after I walked into this gym by my house "just to take a look around." I am hopeful that I will use it during bar review, but who the hell REALLY knows these things, right? I'm going to try to go tonight.

Cons:

- It's expensive.
- When I move after the bar (to be closer to work) I'll have to find a new one.
- The women there had matching outfits, which always makes me feel like The Suck when I show up in sweats and an old Air Force t-shirt.

Pros:

- The men, at least the ones I could see during my little tour, were fairly attractive, which is unusual around here. Sadly.
- I MIGHT actually use it on a regular basis, thereby ensuring that I can still fit into the new clothes I just bought.
- Good stress relief.
- Hot boys...Mmmmmmmm...eye candy.

We'll see.

A man's squirrel

My professor just said:

"Yeah, I took my wife on a trip once to see if we could find a red squirrel. And we found some. Boy, THEY'RE HUSKY!!!!"

Oh God, that's funny.

GACK!

Chronic Public Masturbator vs. Girls (well, mostly girls) Taking Back The Night.

DING.

Round one goes to GTBTN if for no other reason than CPM has this idiotic bullshit to say for himself:

In his account, the perpetrator is Nguyen (Ed. note...this is the girl who took his picture on her cell phone and...uh...exposed him. Heh.), who misread his intentions (he claims he was already mid-masturbation when she stepped onto the train) and then humiliated him by posting his picture on the Web. He says he didn’t even realize he’d been photographed. “Even so, I wouldn’t imagine somebody throwing it up on the Internet for millions of people and destroying your life like that,” he says. “It’s one thing to take it to the police. But on the Internet, I read a lot of people saying, ‘That was not too cool of her. That was really screwed up.’ ”

Hoyt believes that if he and Nguyen had only met under different circumstances, she might really like him. “You know, she’d go, ‘That guy’s pretty cool. He’s got this restaurant, and he’s fun,’ ” Hoyt says. “She’d probably want to go out with me.”

Well, I mean REALLY! A guy can't be expected to just STOP mid-masturbation. On a train. In public. This chick is such a bitch for expecting to be able to ride public transportation without having to worry about being sexually assaulted. And then, to post his picture to the internet when he was just trying to pleasure himself in the privacy of his very own...um...subway car. Why can't people just let the sexual perverts of the world do whatever they want? Why does everyone have to harsh his mellow like that, man? How completely freaking unreasonable of women to want to be safe outside their homes. Or, shit, even inside their homes. But, you know, I'd settle for outside for now.

Another day in paradise.

Today I went to work on a Monday because, for the first time EVER, I have NO Monday classes. Everyone there teased me about coming in on my day off, but I can tell they are excited that I'm turning out to be a full-on workaholic. I still struggle with the billable hour thing -- not so much having enough to do, but keeping track of it as I go and accurately recording what I'm doing. Surely there must be a better way?

I am WAYYYYYYYYYYYY behind in my last two classes, and was horrified to realize today that exams are only two weeks away. SHIT! Seeing as how I likely won't graduate if I fail either one of them, there's probably an argument there that I need to get on my reading and outlining and studying and whatnot. What a total pain in the ass -- who actually expects 3L's to be able to mentally engage enough in their last quarter to work, stay up with the reading, prepare for exams, prepare for family stuff/graduation, get all the bar review junk straightened out...etc...???

At any rate, I'm finishing up some laundry, and I think I'm going to hunker down tonight and work on a little thing called "The Series Finale of Alias." WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY more interesting (and, frankly, important in my life) than doing either BusOrgs reading or working on the 12-page paper I have due in a couple of weeks.

If I get a chance I'll take a picture of my apartment complex hallway outside my door - they had to pull up the carpet all the way down the entire hallway because of the little "spill" last night. Yikes! Once again, let me say that I am SO THANKFUL that it didn't overflow in MY apartment. And, I hate say it, but...ummmmm...next door neighbors who play Dance Dance Revolution 8,000 times a day, usually from 10pm-3am, and then sewage overflows and floods their apartment?? Yeah, karma is a bee-yotch. Ya know?

My bathtub is full of shit. No. Seriously.

So, yeah. I got home from the gym today, and, all excited to take a shower, found a bathtub full of...well...best case scenario, brown murky water that ISN'T sewage. And, it was rising. And, my toilet wouldn't flush. So, I called the "Emergency Maintenance Hotline" for my apartment. I got a message telling me someone would call me back just as soon as possible, which to me pretty much screams, "We just don't give one tiny FLYING F*CK about your EMERGENT issue", and I left a voicemail...to which I got no response. At all. And then, a miracle. I heard the maintenance man out in the hallway walking around, so I ran outside and accosted him. He told me that everyone on my hallway was having the same issue, and he had called a plumber. God bless him, he looked totally overwhelmed. He's so nice though, and I think he has a bit of a crush on me, which is nice when you're needing help.

Next thing I knew, Roto-Rooter had pulled up outside, and the maintenance man came by my apartment to look at my tub and assure me it would be OK. He also told me my apartment "smelled real good!" Well, duh!!! :) Anyway, about four hours after it all began, the head maintenance man came by to tell me the water should start draining away any minute. He goes "So, do you need us to come in and clean your carpets or anything?" And I say "Ummmm...no...why would you do that?" "Oh, your next door neighbor's tub overflowed and flooded their entire apartment and even the hallway carpet." OH DAMN! So, the water went down, I scrubbed my tub, and thankfully my entire apartment didn't flood with sewage (or whatever was coming out of that drain...but I can't think of what else it would be...ICKY!!!). I didn't post a picture of the clean tub, but trust me, there was a lot of Clorox involved.

It's got raisins in it... you like raisins.

For those of you who blog, I have a question. Do you just go through these really weird cycles where you want to just run away and never look at your blog again, and then sometimes you want to write down everything that ever happens to you and share it with the world? Right now I'm in a "I don't care about the blog" cycle. I've been SO BUSY that I literally haven't been around much, and so maybe that's getting me out of the habit a little bit or something. Lots of stuff has been going on.

Graduation is three weeks from today. I still have exams, a paper, and LOTS of makeup work to do because of the amount of time I spent on Mock Trial these last few weeks. My parents are coming up the Thursday before graduation, and now that I've mentioned that, I'd like to just say what I hope is The Most Obvious Thing On Earth. If you are a reader of Will Work For Favorable Dicta, and you have the opportunity to meet Mama and Daddy Spatula at graduation, this blog is a SECRET. For a REASON. Just trust me on this, I know everyone thinks "I don't know why you're hiding this, it's not that bad," but my parents would not be amused. If you are someone in my life who might meet my parents, please be cool and just don't go there.

M. has been out of town for work, and I've been worried about her because she's not getting that much of a chance to contact me. But I heard from her today and she's doing fine and so I'm really relieved and happy. Not much more on this, but she's doing great.

I've been learning some life lessons about relationships, and I guess the bottom line for me is that I may not understand how attraction works, but I have to have it. I have to have chemistry. I have to feel my stomach do a little flip when I see the person. Ultimately in my life I'm looking for the total package, and right now I don't have the time to deal with any of it, but when I do, that's what I'll be looking for. Right now, even if I met Mr. Wonderful, he would get pushed to the side as I took exams, did bar review, took the bar exam, started working full-time, etc. So, that part of my life is just being put aside for now...I don't have the time or energy to deal with it.

My dad bought a sports car yesterday. My mom's message was very confusing, but he either bought a Mazda RX-8, or a Nissan Z (is that what it's called?). I'm sure I'll hear more about it soon, and maybe he'll send a picture I can post. My mom is excited because she's trying to get him to buy her a $3000 Trek bike, and he said no, but the sports car probably gives her some pretty decent leverage. When I talked to her yesterday, before they went car shopping, she said "E. Spat, whatever you do in your life, make sure you always have your own money so you never have to ask someone for the things you want." No problem there!

At any rate, I'm going through a bit of a blogging dry spell in terms of figuring out what I want to talk about...but I'm sure I'll snap out of it soon. Right now there is no Weekly Roundup yet -- I will likely try to work on it later. I just didn't have time today yet, and no one sent me any links, so I'm feeling lazy. I STILL haven't spoken to Evan about who will take over my place, and I apologize for that. Life has been insane here with work, school, Mock Trial, friends, family stuff, etc...so, I PROMISE (and this time I mean it) I'll get on that soon.

Mmmmmm....beer

I heart Chimay.

Also, I went to a place tonight for barbeque and it wasn't entirely disappointing -- a new experience in the Pacific Northwest, where normally the food is just bland and totally boring, and probably vegetarian and organic and if you eat a huge plate of meat someone will burn your house down. So, yeah, it was nice to have a big old pulled pork sandwich in the kind of place where your waiter is named Alfonso and it's OK to enjoy your gigantic pile-o-meat. Yum!

Then, we went to a dive bar for just one drink that was fantastic. Just the right ratio of down and out people, hipsters, punk rockers, and boring law students. Awesome.

Phrase of the night, from Ex-Roomie's boyfriend: "So, he's not riding the skin boat to tuna town?"

Man, it's good to have classy friends. And a dive-y-esque bar that still serves Chimay in bottles -- because drinking expensive beer out of the bottle makes me accessible and fun instead of pretentious and annoying. And I wore a low-cut shirt and cowboy boots, so basically I had on an outfit that pretty much screamed, "I'm not from here - but, still...BOOBIES!!!"

Off to bed. I swear to God, I'm gonna get my homework done tomorrow. And this time I mean it.

Things I learned today.

1. Those really hot muscles on the side of a boy's abs near his...heh heh...boy parts...those're called the "Abercrombie Muscles" or the "Abercrombie Ridge." Heh. Courtesy of Ex-Roomie.

2. My boss loves me. Yay!

3. I can go to work and do a semi-decent job with only four hours of sleep.

4. If someone says "ejaculatory" enough times, I will laugh, no matter how unprofessional.

5. That goes double for "dick." Dick is funny. Always.

6. If you tell the boy at the pizza place that watching him vacuum sorta makes you hot, he might laugh, but he might wink at you too.

7. Sometimes you just can't force yourself to feel the way you don't feel.

8. Beer is the perfect antidote to stress. But I already kinda knew that.

9. Did I mention I love my job?

10. If I drink enough beer, I have no problem singing Creedence Clearwater Revival songs in a bar full of people.

11. Homer is a good name for a dog. Especially if the dog is at a bar, and his owner is a man, who actually turns out to be a woman, but you thought she was a man at first, and then you were a little bit confused, but mostly because of the purple tie-dye, which no one should wear, but the dog, Homer, is still really cute.

12. Life is weird, and there's just no way to predict shit.

13. I like being single, and making my own decisions, and not telling anyone where I am or where I'm going, and I'm not ready to be in a relationship where I owe anyone an explanation about my behavior - no matter what it is.

I have to go to bed. I haven't gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep for the last few nights and my brain is tired. I've really been stressed out, and I had a few beers tonight, and I sang a lot of ill advised songs at the bar even though there actually wasn't karaoke, and I think I might do it again tomorrow night. I wish graduation would hurry up and be here. Damnit. Off to bed.

My jury is well hung.

We had two juries observing our trial tonight, both consisting of teenagers from a local high school. They squirmed, they giggled, they gave us thumbs up when they thought we were doing good, and one of them picked his nose. A lot. And ultimately, they both hung. Considering our case, I think that's a pretty OK result. I did good on the opening and the direct (fabulous witness...she reads the blog!), flubbed the crosses (Hello -- how about just ONE leading question E. Spat? Would that be possible?), and my partner rocked everything she did. So, all in all, a good experience. And, I have never been so glad something is over in my whole life, if for no other reason than I don't have to spend hours and hours every week worrying about and preparing for this trial, and I'm one step closer to the elusive goal of graduation. Thank God. Off to bed at 12:15, just in time to get up at 6 for work. Fantastic.

Too tired for a title.

I don't know whether to be horrified or just totally impressed! At any rate, this is probably what they'll find in my house when I die, so I better not throw stones at the big glass 40-oz beer bottle shaped house.

In other news, my Mock Trial is tonight, complete with last minute drama, lack of sleep, no opening prepared yet, and a total ignorance of the law of evidence, what it means to establish foundation, how to impeach a witness, and how to make an objection. I'm prepared. See you on the other side.

Sigh.

I am so tired today. I stayed up too late last night, and all day long I've just been dragging. I'm watching the Scrubs season finale and sorta working on my opening statement. Sorta kinda.

Unfortunately, I keep falling asleep, so I think it might just have to be an early night, and hopefully I'll be able to get up early and work basically all day on getting this trial together. I feel terrible about how last-minute this whole thing is becoming, but hey, I work better under pressure, right? RIGHT? I'm sure nearly everyone is in the same boat, and truthfully, I'm probably better prepared than I think I am, but I just don't have anything written down. It's all in my head, and that's a scary thing.

I've got lots of other stuff on my mind, but no time to write anything really. After Thursday, everything will be so much better.

The next two days are going to be really long. Really, really long.

So, here's something to discuss amongst yourselves. I have a pathological fear of opening mail. Like, I just won't do it. I hate to open mail. Does anyone else do that? What do you think it means...psychologically speaking?

I must confess, I could use some rest, I can't run at this pace very long*

I got to watch Grey's Anatomy last night. Good, but I don't think great. Derek and Meredith...uh...quit dicking around and make a decision. No pun intended. Well, that's a lie, there was totally a pun intended. George and Callie...love that she's not super skinny and has some curves, hate that she reminds me too much of Chynna, the female wrestler. Everything Burke and Christina...I'm over it. I just don't care anymore -- she's insufferable. Izzy and Denny...sad, but thought the thing with Alex was good. Doc the dog...saddest part of the whole damn thing.

My Trial Ad Mock Trial is on Thursday -- I'm starting to feel stressed about it. I feel like there's any awful lot to do between now and then, but I guess that's kind of what law school is all about. If I wasn't overwhelmed, anxiety ridden, and proscrastinating, I would probably wither up and die.

I did get both a pint of White Chocolate Raspberry Truffle ice cream last night, and a bouquet of flowers. I'm actually not sure I can handle someone being so nice to me, it makes me feel kind of itchy and nervous. It's always amazing to me how truly, deeply, madly fucked up I really am in the head.

*Jimmy Buffett always says it best.

A good man is hard to find.

You know a guy is cool when you invite him over to watch the season finale of Grey's Anatomy and he emails you back immediately to ask what kind of ice cream he should bring. I love it when they come pre-trained.

OHMYGOD, so creepy.

Behold...the Purity Ball. Ick. Ick, ick, ick.

There's a link in the story to the website of one of these things...here's a quote:

The moment I put my hand in my father's, I felt like a princess. In those six precious hours, I believe I grew in relationship with my father more than I ever have. I knew it was my night, and I treasured every minute of it,' said eleven-year-old Anna Tullis of our Father Daughter Purity Ball.

Yeah. Doesn't that sound JUST LIKE what an eleven year-old would say? Uh-huh. Right.

h/t FARK.

Somebody's got a case of the Mondays.

I forgot to set my alarm last night. I think I was so into Grey's Anatomy that I just went to bed and didn't think of mundane things like getting to school, and getting my Estate Planning homework done, both of which need to happen this morning. But, when I woke up at about 8:15, I felt the best I've felt in days, physically-speaking. I've had this thing lately where, when I first get up, I feel really dizzy and sort of light-headed and nauseated (before even one of you comments, NO, I am NOT pregnant). My self-diagnosis is that I'm not drinking enough water, getting enough sleep, or getting enough exercise. So, basically, my body hates me.

Today I turn in my very last Estate Planning assignment, and the last class is on Wednesday. This week, on Thursday, is our Mock Trial for Trial Advocacy. It's going to be insane getting ready for it, and I have A LOT of work to do, but it will be over soon, and it's pass/fail...so whatever. As of this Friday, one-half of my classes will be over. Then I just have to get through two exams and one paper. And graduation. And the bar. Sigh.

Every good story has a beginning, a middle, and an end.

Yesterday, my friend came over and we got a couple of movies, and some wine and cheese and other yummy goodies, and sat on my couch to just hang out and chill.

Then, we drank three bottles of wine (plus a bottle earlier at my friend's son's birthday party), ate our cheese and goodies, and watched the movies.

Now, I feel like a ten-thousand pound bag of ass, and am seriously hoping that I get hit by a freight train and put out of my misery.

the end.

Whatever Todd, you're not my real dad*

Me: "Thanks for the information. What was your name again?"

Guy on phone: "My name IS Steve."

Me (in my head): "Dear Steve, Fuck You. The End."

*I'll explain this title another day when I'm not full of beer and marshmallows.

A meme for you and me.

I liked this meme at Spilt Milk, so I took it -- it's not one of those ones you have to assign to people, but if you like it, do it! And send a trackback or a comment or something so we can all see what you said.

I AM: extremely tired and stressed out, but will still find time for happy hour tomorrow night.
I WANT: more cheese. I can't get enough cheese lately.
I WISH: I had the ability to focus on details.
I HATE: feeling frustrated.
I MISS: having a dog.
I FEAR: the people at my new job don't think I'm doing good work or won't like me.
I HEAR: voices in my head telling me to buy more cheese. And to throw in some ice cream while I'm at it.
I WONDER: whether I'll ever be someone's mom.
I REGRET: letting my ex-husband take the dog.
I AM NOT: going to waste any more of my days wondering if I'm too fat to be loved. As the Zenmaster says "Do you spend time wondering whether the leaves on the trees are the right shape? Do you argue with God about the details?"
I DANCE: SO much better when I'm drunk.
I SING: in the shower every morning because Ex-Roomie bought me a shower CD player that's awesome. Today I sung "Temperature" by Sean Paul. Hell yeah.
I CRY: whenever I get too tired, and usually in front of people I regret crying in front of.
I AM NOT ALWAYS: fun and funny.
I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: a pretty decent homemade apple cream cheese pie.
I WRITE: because if I don't I feel icky.
I CONFUSE: the hell out of most people who meet me.

The Imbroglio is no longer ambivalent. Good luck to AI, and don't forget to change your bookmarks/blogrolls (that's more a reminder for myself than anything else).

I'm off to do Mock Trial prep, just like last night, and tomorrow night, and every night for the next week. I *may* get an update in either late tonight, or late tomorrow night, otherwise I will be back on Saturday, because I'm just super busy with all kinds of crazy stuff.

To-MAY-to, To-MAH-to

The lady on the local news station that I like pronounces "tran-SEE-ent" as "tran-GENT."

Annoying.

I'm brilliant, I'm eighteen, I'm hyperkinetic, and possibly if I stopped to think about it I might be upset!

**This is a little long and rambly...sorry. Every time I tried to edit it just got worse, so I figured I better stop before it was totally incoherent, which it might already be.**

I've been thinking a lot lately about attraction (and here I mean "physical attraction"), and the role of attraction in both dating and marriage (or whatever long-term relationship, if any, you subscribe to). In the past, the men I have had an immediate physical attraction to, what I would normally call "chemistry", have turned out to be pretty horrible. You've got your adulterers, your abusers, your drug users, your alcoholics, your secret sex-lifers, and worst of all, your plain old "I just don't care about you enough to put forth any effort whatsoever"-ers.

For the past couple of years, I have been really trying to put some thought into my relationship choices. And I'm not saying I haven't made some terrible choices, because, well, I have. But I'm trying really hard to learn something. And I'm trying to make conscious decisions, to not just be a slave to whatever that thing is that only makes me attracted to "bad boys." My former therapist, affectionately known (behind his back, obviously) to all my friends and family as "The Zenmaster," had basically said "The reason you are attracted to these men is that they don't like you and don't respect you, and you don't like you and don't respect you either...so you automatically have something really important in common." And, it's true.

The question now is, what do I do if I meet a guy who DOES genuinely like me? Who DOES make the effort? Who DOES call? How do I change this pattern of being attracted to men who really don't like or respect me? Obviously, loving and accepting myself, and being able to provide intrinsic affirmation would help. And I'm working on that. BUT, what I'm finding is that although I am much more confident now, and I'm actively watching what I do instead of just landing in situations and letting them take over my life, I still find myself physically attracted to guys who just are not what I need long-term (or short-term either for that matter). And I don't even mean a hot body or whatever (although sometimes that is true), because they're not even all conventionally attractive. What I mean is, they ultimately cannot give me what I need or want. They usually can't even begin to provide just the basics of human decency, let alone the foundation for building a life together. Sometimes I think this residual "bad boy" desire is just a legacy of my 20's, and I got used to doing things a certain way and I just don't know how to react to other people now. And sometimes I think that maybe the chemicals in my brain are totally effed up and only jump around and clap their little hormonal hands when they meet guys who are dickheads.

The question in my mind is, what is "chemistry." Is it a habit? Because the phrase "He's my type" sounds kind of like a habit to me. Like, "Well, I've always dated guys who are tall with brown hair and blah blah blah, so that must be the only type of guys who I'm attracted to." Is chemistry something that just happens to us, the result of two people's pheromones getting a whiff of each other and deciding they like what they sniff? Or, can attraction be learned to some extent. I mean, we've all probably had a friend we weren't attracted to, and then once we got to know them, all of the sudden we could picture "it." That seems sort of like learned behavior to me...your decision about the other person's sexual attractiveness changes based on your getting to know them as a person.

So, there's the instant attraction people, and the people who kind of grow on you after you get to know them, and the people who just magically are a certain "type." But the question I always go back to is, what MAKES that happen? Can it be changed or manipulated consciously based on other factors. In the instance of the guy you become friends with who later starts to be attractive to you, can you take that point of view and look at all potential partners with it? Or, is it better to meet people and NEVER think of them as potential partners so that there is never any expectation and the attraction, if it's going to happen, just grows naturally out of the friendship?

I have really been pondering on and struggling mentally with this issue, because I don't want to pass up a great guy (should I meet one) because he is too nice to me, or he's a bit quirky, or he doesn't have enough of an "edge." And believe me, I KNOW that the edge is what usually comes back to bite me on the ass later on. There's just a fine line for me between too much of an edge (not that I usually have the sense to think there's too much of an edge, but looking back in hindsight, there was too much of an edge in the sense that the guy was a criminal or whatever), and "PLEASE, please, pllllllllease, get a backbone," the latter of which makes me lose all respect, and that kills whatever attraction might have been there anyway. See, I'm like the kid who already knows the stove is hot and just can't stop touching it!

The picture of health.

Stones deny Keith Richards suffered brain damage.

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

I think they mean, "any new brain damage," or "because he doesn't actually have a brain anymore, just a tiny gin soaked olive on a toothpick with a British flag on the end of it rattling around inside his skull."

My favorite quote is:

But the band issued a statement on Monday acknowledging that after complaining of headaches, he had undergone "a small operation to remove the pressure."

You just know that like 47 kilos of coke, 17 hypodermic needles, a midget, 5 goats , 12 hookers and a box of strawberry frosted Pop-Tarts fell right out of that hole. Hahaha, no brain damage. Oh God, that's a good one.

Here it is, your moment of extreme paranoia

You know that lady at the grocery store? She comes in after work, and she has on elastic waist pants that are, at best, a polyester/rayon blend, and her shoes are scuffed, and they're loafers with orthopedic soles, and her hair is dyed the exact wrong color out of a box, and you can tell she tried to put on makeup but it looks like she gave up halfway through, and she has cat hair all over her bulky brown cardigan sweater with gold basketweave pattern buttons, two colors of cat hair, and she's still wearing her ID badge from work, probably because she thinks it makes her look important, or maybe she just forgot, even though it's hanging on a handmade lanyard, and she's probably only 35 but she looks 57, and she's buying the hugest bottle of cheap white wine they sell, and one can of tomato soup, and she's just a little too friendly with the 19 year old kid bagging her groceries? You know her? More than anything in my whole life, I don't want to be that lady at the grocery store.

Question of the day.

So, I went out for dinner and had a few drinks with a couple of my girlfriends tonight (Sur-pri-ise!). Anyway, one of the greatest mysteries known to heterosexual women came up (heh), and I thought I'd let you guys take it on, if you'd like.

Hand size is related to you-know-what size.

Discuss.

My day has come!

Thanks to CM for alerting me to the following story:

A Comedians's Riff on Bush Prompts an E-Spat.

YAY! I'm famous! Oh wait, you mean this isn't about me? Well, at least someone said "bush." Heh.

Oh the apathy.

I just cannot believe how unmotivated I am to get anything done! I have spent two hours this morning already just reading emails, reading blogs, reading celebrity gossip...you get the picture. I have a HUGE Estate Planning assignment due on Wednesday, and I'm going to be SAD tonight and tomorrow that I wasted this morning working on increasing my knowledge of what celebrity couples are having problems. I know every single 3L on the planet feels like this - although some of you are done already and I'm SO jealous of you!!

Sometimes when I think about how much time I waste I want to just cry my eyes out. And then I remember that my therapist says that time is never wasted, it's used for a reason that the universe has picked out for you that you just don't know about yet. He's so zen.

Hey Ma, look what I did!

I went to this wine store I love today to buy some wine, and there's a Target right near it. So, I decided to just walk around Target for a minute, and as I'm browsing through the women's clothing, this kid all of the sudden just barfs everywhere. Oh my God, it was so gross. Then he was SO PROUD. He kept going "Hey, I'm sick!" It was like he'd just learned to parallel park or something, "Guess what I did? Aren't I awesome?!" ICK! I almost had a sympathetic puking moment, and you've never seen anyone leave a Target that fast in your entire life!

I went and saw Mission Impossible III today. Very fast-paced, it kind of stressed me out because it had so much going on. I'm like that kid Warren in Empire Records, I need to be curbing my impulses, not magnifying them. But, I made up for it by going out for a couple of beers afterwards. So, it's all good.

Weekly Law School Roundup #18

I'm calling this the "Random quotes from 'Real Genius' because I happen to love that movie Edition" of the Weekly Law School Roundup. Special thanks to Kristine at Divine Angst for having such an awesome blogroll that helps me to find new student blogs to include in the Roundup. I love the organized people of the world...they make it possible for people like me to still produce the Roundup when we're feeling spacey and stressed out.

Always... no, no... never... forget to check your references. (Gump's Law)

He said he didn't feel like it. And I said, you'd better! And he said, or what? And I said, or else you're gonna be in trouble. And he said jam it. (I'll Be The Juddge)

Gee, Kent, and we were going to make you King of the Winter Carnival. (Cella Bellum)

You wanted to see me, Your Joggingness? (I Love The Monkeys!)

I'm just kidding. It's yet another in a long series of diversions in an attempt to avoid responsibility. (by the seat of my skirt)

Your mother puts license plates in your underwear? How do you sit? (Passionate Discourse)

I think the young people enjoy it when I "get down" verbally, don't you? (You Can't Get Arrested For Being Awesome)

Was it a dream where you were where you see yourself standing in sort of sun-god robes on a pyramid, with a thousand naked women screaming and throwing little pickles at you? (Equal Process? Due Protection?)

This? This is ice. This is what happens to water when it gets too cold. This? This is Kent. This is what happens to people when they get too sexually frustrated. (The Namby Pamby)

As always, the Roundup will be found next week at Evan Schaeffer's Legal Underground. Also, if you'd like to be the next Roundup host when I graduate and leave the law school world, drop me a line. I got a couple of emails already, and I'll be figuring this out hopefully before my next turn at this in two weeks. Thanks!

Penance

I haven't been home except pretty much just to sleep for days, and as a result, my apartment is disgusting. I mean, it looks like 20 frat guys, a donkey, 4 hookers, and 17 monkeys live here, it's just that bad. So, today I went to Target, spent $150, a huge portion of that on cleaning supplies (I LOVE to get new cleaning supplies -- it's so motivational!), and I'm going to spend the next several hours cleaning my apartment from stem to stern, as "they" say. I bet I sleep so good tonight.

It tastes like burning.

Last night at the Cinco de Mayo fiesta I attended, a couple of fun things happened.

First, I was doing a shot of tequila when Ex-Roomie's boyfriend all of the sudden goes "Last time I drank tequila I threw up in my suitcase." This caused me to sort of snort INTO my shot of tequila WHILE I was bringing it up to my face, which in turn caused it to splash up all over my face including INTO MY EYES. I have literally never had anything hurt my eyes that much. And of course, I couldn't open my eyes, AND my makeup all ran down my face from both the tequila and my tears, so one of the hosts ran and got me a paper towel with which I tried to clean up the mess. I ended up having to go to the bathroom and wash off most of my eye-makeup. But, because I'm a trooper, I still did like five more shots of tequila.

And that leads me to my next point. Here's me "Blah blah blah, yeah I'll do another shot, blah blah blah, oh hi 2L's, let me tell you about my blog!" So, I should probably welcome my new readers, whoever they might end up being since I was enjoying Cinco de Mayo enough that I'm not sure who I might have opened my big fat trap to. I think with the whole "graduation" and "moving into my new job-life and away from school-life" I have just totally stopped caring about telling people about this little project. I used to think it would be the end of the world if people read this, and now I feel like I'm just having a hard time feeling anything but total apathy towards anything related to law school, which I'm sure all the 3L's in the whole world totally understand.

At any rate, I have to go drink 10 gallons of water and try to get some homework done, because I'm not graduated yet. I'm spending tonight at my mock trial partner's house, working on that. I greatly look forward to the day when I can spend time with my friends NOT doing homework.

PS: Just as I was about to hit "Publish" a commercial came on for the "Best of Chris Isaak" CD. How does one pick the "best of" a bunch of songs that all sound the same? He did that one song with the model girl on the beach (and it's telling that all anyone remembers is the video, and that's because there were boobies), and every song they just previewed on the commercial sounds exactly like that? Since when is he famous enough to get a "best of" CD?

Penmanship COUNTS

Oh SNAP!

**Warning, many naughty words ahead**

Guy at Burger King Drive-Through: "So, yeah...you're real pretty."

Me: "Uh, thanks!"

BK: "You got a REAL nice smile! Very nice!"

Me: "Yeah, thanks...thanks!"

**Hands me my credit card receipt**

BK: "Have a great night." **Brushes hand against my hand while I return the pen and receipt**

Me *shudder*: "Thanks"

**Pull forward to second window**

New Guy: "Hey you, motherfucker! You think you're a real man? Why don't you come out here and be a real man motherfucker! Come out here and fight like a man!"

BK: "Oh yeah bitch? Look at you! Look at you! You think you're a real man? Look at how dirty you are!"

NG: "Look at my car! Do you see this Mercedes? Why don't you come out and show my your Chevy piece of shit motherfucker?!"

BK: "If I come out there I'm gonna kick your ass!"

NG: "I'm coming back for you. Count on it. I'm coming back to get you. I'll get you!"

**New Guy sticks hand out window in gun gesture...he's just NEXT to the drive through lane, but not in it**

BK: "Bring it! Come on back when you're not a huge pussy!"

God, it was surreal! I hope the Burger King guy doesn't think that guy is my boyfriend or something - he just came out of nowhere and threatened to kill the Burger King guy! It was BIZARRE!!!!

I need a lucky penny.

Today the following fantastic things happened to me:

1. I got parked in at 7-11. By the way, if you have an EFFING GEO METRO perhaps you don't want to challenge my gigantic Mercury Sable that has been in like 20 accidents so I couldn't care less if I run you down and add one more dent. The most dangerous person is one who has nothing to lose...so watch it.

2. I feel down walking into work (Ed. note...while I do actually occassionally "feel down," in this instance I actually "fell down."). Thank GOD no one saw me. And also thank GOD that I saved the Super Big Gulp from hitting the ground. As my friend pointed out, it is very telling that I messed up my brand new pants, got two skinned knees, but threw myself under my Diet Coke to ensure it didn't get messed up.

3. My button popped off my pants.

4. My high heel got stuck in a crack on the sidewalk and I almost fell down AGAIN! Once again, it was very dignified, and I'm sure no one noticed. Yeah.

5. I got yelled at by some lady I had to call for work because I wasn't doing a good job of telling her what I needed. I explained it was only my second week and she just yelled at me more. Hooker.

Despite all of this I billed over 7 hours today because I am a freaking rock star. I spent 4 hours reviewing like three years worth of this dude's medical records and making a chart of every single doctor's appointment and what happened at it, but my boss loved it so I guess it's OK that it took so long.

I am going to a Cinco de Mayo party tonight at the house of one of my favorite law school people, the guy that got the job that we were both up for a couple of months ago. I think it's going to be fun, and I fully intend to get into the spirit of Cinco de Mayo, which is, as far as I know, utter intoxication.

And oh yeah, I forgot to write about this. So, the other day on my second day of work, I fell out of my chair right in front of my boss. Like, I was sitting there and all of the sudden I just fell out on the floor and the chair fell over on top of me. She has brought it up several times, about how funny it was and how she went home and just couldn't imagine how it could have happened and thought I might be insane. Today we were talking about it again and telling the other partner, who was laughing hysterically, and then I told them about all my bad luck today. They said they're going to call me this weekend and make sure I'm still alive because I'm having such bad luck. I'm not sure "Bad Luck Girl" is the one you want working in your insurance adjustment office.

PS: I forgot to add #6, I had to unpack my new filing cabinet and I got a papercut but not PAPER, CARDBOARD! It's like the Grand Canyon of paper cuts...I probably need stiches or something.

If only I had doubts.

Tonight we had our final rowing class. In honor of it being the last day, it was terribly windy and Saturday is opening day of boating season so there were tons of motorboats out on the lake kicking up some pretty awful wakes. All of this is to say that our boat was FULL of water when we got done rowing, so when we picked it up out of the water and turned it over, it dumped about 50 gallons of water directly on my head, drenching me to the bone in the process. Ex-Roomie and I have a tradition of beer and dinner after rowing classes, and since it was our last class I didn't want to punk out, so like the trooper I am I put my work clothes back on, dried off my hair as much as I could, and went out for a couple of beers.

At the bar, our waitress was totally hitting on me. Yeah, you heard me right. Well, technically she may have been hitting on both me and Ex-Roomie, but let's just say that if I would have made the decision tonight to play for the other team, that decision could have been made to come to fruition, if you will. She was kind of cute I guess, although I have this feeling that if I was a lesbian I would go for women who were more like me, sort of girly and sparkly, but sadly I am just 100% heterosexual. In the sense that the grass is always greener and whatnot (that's for you, Mr. Anonymous Commenter, you know who you are), it seems like it would be easier to be a lesbian, although I'm sure that relationships are just as difficult no matter what your preference in terms of partners. But, when you are finally getting hit on it sucks to not be able to take someone up on it...sigh. If only I had this magic effect on men. And while looking like a drowned rat no less!

Today at work I had a conversation with my boss about how it's going to be when I come back from the bar exam and I have to start "marketing", ie: bringing in clients, and I feel anxious now. I'm not going to think about it. On Fridays I work all day, and I already know that just what's sitting on my desk left over from today is enough to keep me busy all day tomorrow -- but I'm excited. I love it there, I hope they think I'm doing a good job.

Alright, I gotta go to bed I guess. I was up until about 2:30am this morning, and now I'm exhausted. And of course there's work bright and early tomorrow. Guess I'll probably be back on Saturday as I'm going to a Cinco de Mayo party tomorrow night where I fully expect to drink too much and spend the night on Ex-Roomie's couch, eating her Costco pizza and drinking her water. This week is my turn on the Roundup, submit links if you've got 'em. And don't think I didn't get your submissions to be hosts -- I did. I've just been WAY too busy to talk to Evan about them, but never fear, it'll get done. If you didn't send me an email yet, but you'd like to take over for me in doing the Weekly Law School Roundup, don't be shy -- send it now! Evan and I will discuss it and come up with some sort of coherent plan...or, at least a plan. Or a plan to make a plan. In the future.

I'm gonna be a good mom.

I went to lunch with Ex-Roomie today...and the following conversation happened.

Me: "Yeah, you know that MAC lipstick I bought when we went to Vancouver? The one that's the perfect color?"

ER: "Yeah."

Me: "Well, today I accidentally left it in my car, and it was right in the sun and was totally melting."

ER: "That sucks!"

Me: "I know. I got all the way to school and was working on my homework when I thought about where I had left it and so I walked all the way back to the parking lot to get it."

ER: "You went all the way up there to get your lipstick?"

Me: "Um, yeah."

ER: "You REMEMBERED where your lipstick was and knew to go there to get it?"

Me: "Is that weird?"

ER: "Just think of how awesome you're gonna be when you have to keep track of something that's actually alive!"

Why are you crying? Do I beat you?

I am officially OVER working on my Estate Planning homework. I think I have messed it up at this point so much that if it was a real client I would be guilty of 17 different kinds of malpractice. Oh well, I should get an "A" for effort, seeing as how I've been doing nothing but this homework for what feels like days. I emailed my prof and asked for an extension on my written book report, hopefully she'll allow me to just do the one in class today, and turn in something later this weekend maybe.

I am sitting at my desk in my little shared office at school and every time I look around I am overwhelmed with the enormity of what I have to do before graduation. And I don't even mean school work. I mean three years of books stored in here, three years of papers, three years of Diet Coke bottles and printed out cases and little knick-knacks and discarded bluebooks. How will I ever get this all home? What will I do with it when I get it there? My number one goal for after Mock Trial is done is that I'm going to really get into all my closets and get rid of a LOT of stuff, and do some deep cleaning of things that I've been neglecting, like the cabinets under the bathroom sink and whatnot. Bringing yet more useless crap INTO the house defeats my entire plan.

I hypothetically suck as a hypothetical estate planner.

I have been working for nearly five hours on my Estate Planning homework, I still have a client "explanation letter" to do (explaining the current state of Estate tax law...boo!), and I have yet to actually produce a written book report, although I think I can do the oral report tomorrow without too much of a problem. Guess I'm gonna have to go for an extension on the written report. I just don't think it's going to happen tonight. My hypothetical Estate Planning client sucks...I'm really starting to not care if he hypothetically gets what he hypothetically wants after he hypothetically dies. What a pain in my ass.

In other news, I sent out an email today and was so anxiety ridden about the deadline that I put in the message line that it was "IRGENT." Good thought, poor execution. You know what I mean?

I wish that I was a dishonest student. Then I could put up my questions about my homework and beg for help, and at least one of you would send me some help...but then I would feel bad and it's probably/definitely against the honor code. Soooooooooooooo, I guess I'll suffer in silence. Well, semi-silence. Technically you can't hear me bitching and you have to choose to read this far, so it's kind of your own fault. That's right, this is all your fault. Well, now that we've cleared that up, I feel better. I suck as an Estate Planner but most, if not all, of the fault can be placed upon others for encouraging me by reading my rantings. Fantastic. The fact that none of the things I just wrote were logical or rational does not bother me at all because I'm exhausted, but I think they do help to explain how completely horrible the Will I'm writing is going to be.

Good to know.

Note to self:

As a brand new insurance adjuster, when you get a file on your desk to "review" that involves a guy who got his hand torn off in a machine, and there are envelopes attached to the file, and the envelopes aren't really labeled, and the envelopes MIGHT be big enough to hold...say...pictures, it might be best to just not open the envelopes. I'm just sayin'.

Lighting a fire under my ass

Nothing will light a fire under my ass faster than an email from our Trial Ad professor saying that if we don't have our pretrial orders in by noon we won't be getting judges for Mock Trial and will have to have a faculty member instead. And of course it's only half done, and I'm the only person here at school and it has to be signed by all four of us before noon....so my partner is running here from work to sign it, and the other team worked out something to get it signed, and I'm frantically typing and printing and typing and printing and trying to get everyone to agree before they sign so I can run it up there at noon.

Whew. My stomach hurts.

Also, I was supposed to be getting my Estate Planning homework done during this time period which means I'll probably have to skip rowing tonight in order to get it done. Damnit.

Big Trouble in Little China

I think the fact that part of my Estate Planning assignment that's due on Wednesday involves writing a "client letter" explaining the "state of Federal and State Estate and Gift Tax" in a manner, presumably, that is "knowledgeable" and "coherent" and "in English" is a sign that the end of the world is nigh, if you will.

I don't feel well today, and I didn't get enough done because I screwed around watching Oprah instead of working, because...well...I wasn't feeling good. I just want the next two weeks to go by so that I can get two of my four classes out of the way and have some free time again. And really free. Now I have "free" time but it always comes with a price...so, not so much.

More aspirin. Then bed. Estate Planning and BusOrgs homework can wait until the asscrack of dawn tomorrow. If I'm lucky I can spend all weekend on Trial Ad. Awesome. It's only Monday and I'm already incubating the knot in my stomach. How does everything get done? Maybe my life is proof that miracles really do happen. Not sure though if the miracle is that it gets done or that I don't spontaneously combust with stress.

Oprah stores her stress in her ass.

It's true. She just said it right on national TV. I can't make these things up.

Do you ever just know that more than anything in the whole world you want to eat some tacos for dinner? I'm going to make some. Don't try to stop me.

In other news...I have SOOOOOOOOOOOOO much Estate Planning homework to do, and I just can't force myself to do anything except watch Oprah. I need to graduate.

Being born is like being kidnapped. And then sold into slavery.

For law school, LAW SCHOOL, I am writing a book report. Yeah, you heard me right. I had to read a book for my Estate Planning class about the estate of a famous person (lots of famous rich people die and then have terrible estate issues...because, well, they have greedy relatives mostly), so I chose Andy Warhol (the title is a quote of his). His estate was, frankly, one of the biggest effing messes in the history of the free world. If you're interested in the gigantic court battle that resulted, the New York Times has some links here. I'll try to remember to put the name of the book up here tonight when I get home, I'm pretty sure it's called "Death and Destruction" which was the name of a series of prints he did of images he found of people dying -- like one was of someone jumping out a window of a building, but I couldn't find the book on Amazon so maybe I have the name wrong.

At any rate, here is where I'm going with this. The Warhol estate was a freaking mess. The people he had surrounded himself with in life made terrible decisions after he died, especially his right-hand man, Fred. Fred was the executor of the estate, and he hired a very famous (apparently) lawyer named Ed Hayes, who is quite the character, with a fedora and handmade Italian shoes and whatnot (Ed Hayes also has a book dealing partially with this called "Mouthpiece"...the second half is about the battle over the Warhol estate, so I read that too) to handle the estate.

So, both Fred and Ed (heh!) are in the position of wanting the estate to be worth as much as possible, because they are both being paid a percentage of whatever the final ruling is of the estate's value. Warhol had only left a couple of nominal cash gifts for a few people, and the rest of his money was to go into creating a foundation for the arts, and so The Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts was established. And, when Fred hired Archibald Gillies to run it, he turned out to be rather a crook...he had the exact OPPOSITE desire in terms of valuing the estate. Under New York law, as a charitable foundation, they would have to give away 5% of the value of whatever the estate ended up being worth (since that would be the Foundation's money) every year to charitable causes. That is apparently alot of work, and this Gillies guy mostly wanted to pay himself a high salary and be involved in the New York social scene, but he wasn't so much into the work.

Anyway, to make a VERY long story short, Ed Hayes ends up having to sue to get the court to determine the value of the estate because Christie's (the auction house) was, in some way, sort of dealing fraudulently with Gillies to undervalue Warhol's possessions, much of which was his own art. The court ends up declaring the estate to be worth over $500M, of which Ed Hayes is entitled to (I think) 2.5%, but of course there are tons of appeals and everything, so it's just this really long, awful story of corruption and greed. But Ed Hayes says some VERY interesting things about all the various law firms that get involved in this case at different points. He mostly seems to think that all of them are pretty much crooks, which, when the story is told from his perspective, they certainly seem like it to the reader as well.

Both books I read painted the firm of Carter Ledyard & Milburn as just generally not having any idea what they were doing...giving bad advice, allowing business deals to happen that were, at BEST, terrible ideas, and of sending an attorney into court for the estate valuation litigation to represent the foundation who was (in at least the opinion of the author of the Death and Destruction book) a total bumbling fool.

Then, Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher & Flom get involved in the appeal. Here's how Hayes describes BOTH firms in his book:

"With all due respect, the lawyers involved -- the teams from Carter, Ledyard; Donovan, Leisure; and now Skadden, Arps -- are almost all seriously overweight and badly dressed men whose suits are either too tight or too baggy and whose shirts have bad collars and are awful. They wear tasteless, often florid ties, the kind guys think make them look cool. Their shoes are terrible -- either those clunky wingtips or tiny little Italian slippers that no man should ever wear. Many of them are good lawyers, but they are not graceful people. Aside from the lack of grace, I have nothing against any of these lawyers and no real personal feelings about any of them, except that they stood by (and billed) while their clients tried to mislead the court and the public."

In terms of Skadden, Hayes says:

"Despite the outcome in Surrogat's Court, Carter, Ledyard is still billing away -- though now Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher, and Flom is in charge, a firm that is among the most powerful and expensive in the country and, as I am about to discover, is staffed by some of the most obnoxious motherfuckers in the world."

Here's how describes Skadden's approach to case management:

"Deny everything, make counteraccusations, smear your opponent: Skadden's approach to my request for fees is the same approach it later takes against Monica Lewinsky and Paula Jones when Bill Clinton hires the firm to represent him against charges of sexual harassment. Look at Skadden's conduct in the case against Clinton: it had nothing to do either with resolving the matter or with finding the trust; it had to do with the simple, crude fact that the firm had more money and more power and was going to run over and destroy its client's adversaries."

So yeah, I think it's fair to say that Hayes has a healthy...ummm...distrust (?), dislike (?) of Skadden. He's sort of a anti-establishment kind of guy and his book is an easy read (in the sense that it went fast...he is VERY into himself and his abilities as an attorney and it reads a little bit like a memoir of someone who THINKS he's very interesting, but is really kind of a blowhard). I don't know if I would have read it if I didn't need the portion on the Warhol estate for my book report, because generally lawyer books aren't that thrilling to me, but he's pretty colorful. I probably wouldn't buy either book since generally this isn't the kind of stuff I would read on my own, but Warhol was an interesting guy and the Death and Destruction book has quite a few little tidbits about his eccentricities that are interesting. Like, he was OBSESSED with material possessions. He had grown up poor and was terrified of not having things. So, when he died, they went to his five story townhouse and there was room after room stuffed with bags and boxes of things he had bought and hadn't ever even opened. Warhol had a canopy over his bed, and on top of the canopy he would toss jewelry and watches, apparently just so he could be surrounded constantly by his wealth and proof that he had...you know...stuff.

Anyway, I actually have no idea why I started writing about this, but I'm glad I did since it gives me a headstart on my book report. I guess I just thought you'd all like to know that I'm on top of my Andy Warhol trivia right now, and I'm learning alot about estate planning when you've got $500M, which will clearly be useful to me any day now. Yeah.

I'm still considering whether it might be funny to make a shoebox diorama of the whole thing -- if only I had the time. I used to love to make the diorama, it was my favorite kind of book report.