OK everybody

Raise your hand if you hate Aaron Neville as much as I do.

It pains me that Jimmy Buffett loves him and has even done a duet with him (don't worry Jimbo, I forgive you since you're my One True Love), and every single time I hear his screechy high-pitched warble on the radio I want to pull my car over and carve out my own eardrums with whatever primitive tool is available, like...ummmmm...well, shit, the only things I have in my car are old parking passes and empty Diet Coke bottles...but I'm sure there's something there I could use.

I'm sitting at school all ready to study. I have my Super Big Gulp (funny story: the other day I was walking around with it and my friend goes "Oh my God, there IS a Super Big Gulp...I thought that was just something you made up for the blog." Oh no sister, it's the real thing!), I ate a toasty warm bagel, and now I am going to study. Just as soon as I check all my blogs, my email, and The Superficial. And my horoscope. And TVguide.

Why am I unmotivated?

I have no idea. But today it has to do with the fact that I drank beer nonstop for the last six hours. And I had a calzone. It was good.

Tomorrow is MPRE study day...this time I really, really, really mean it. And I am going to get a Super Big Gulp on the way to school, so don't try to stop me. Feel free to stop me on the studying part...but I probably need to get to it or I'm going to fail and that will be humiliating if it's because I didn't even try.

Anyway, I'm about to eat an enormous amount of ice cream and go to bed so I can get up early and be productive. Or whatever.

One more down

Today I finished my second to the last quarter of law school. Ever. All I have left is MPRE and exams.

To celebrate I hate (Ed. Note: HAD a pitcher of beer...HAD...HAD! I do NOT hate beer...no matter the vessel!) a pitcher of beer. Quit looking so shocked. I'm also going out for drinks tonight as a "study break" and I'm trying to get another friend committed to happy hour tomorrow night. There's also more drinking on tap for Saturday night to celebrate being done with the MPRE. But Sunday I start real studying. I promise. And no boozing. No really.

Mmmmm...self-destructive behavior is the bomb!

So, I am really not too upset about the whole rejection thing. As I told my friend last night (the one who got the job), I would have had to take some time to think about it because I wasn't absolutely sure, and he didn't need to do that because he was sure...so they probably made the right decision for everyone involved. I *AM* a bit pissed at the firm for the following couple of reasons:

1. They know that we know each other and are talking often about the status of this situation.
2. They know that *I* told *HIM* about the job, thus making it even more awkward for him to get it over me.
3. They know that I will find out from him that he got it pretty much as soon as it happens.
4. They make no effort whatsoever to give me a call or an email or anything, I guess I'll just get a rejection letter in the mail whenever they get around to it, which, judging by the fact that it took them three months to make this decision, could be in May sometime.

So, I think that if it was MY very small law firm and I knew what they know about the candidates I was interviewing, I would have handled it differently. But hey. I am really, genuinely happy for my friend who got it, I only wish they hadn't strung us along for quite so long. Also, he has to buy me drinks, so all is well that ends well, right?

Back to the job-hunting coal mines I guess.

In other news, last night my internet at home was down for some reason. It kept telling me I had a great connection but wouldn't let me online, so I have no idea what the hell that means. I made the most of my time by indulging in a whole string of self-destructive behavior that I won't describe in any great detail but which starts with a bottle of wine and which ends with me having to wash two cereal bowls this morning, if you know what I mean. Eh. Oh well, what's a girl to do? Sometimes you just have to indulge in a little bit of idiocy and get it out of your system I guess.

I feel so much pressure right now to do all of these different things, and be all of these different things...and it's hard. I feel like I'm not making the right decisions a vast majority of the time, but I am trying to remember that first of all, I'm not making any decisions that can't be undone or fixed or worked around pretty easily, and secondly, it's OK to make mistakes sometimes and it's also OK to go along and give a situation enough time to tell if it's a mistake or not. The key is figuring out where the course reversals need to take place and actually doing it. It's a philosophy that seems to apply equally well to school, job-hunting, and relationships...so, I'm going to go with it for now at least.

So, back to studying...awesome.

Sweet relief from the pain of life.

Just when I thought my life was total shit and would never get any better, I heard a commercial while I was exercising for this. Oh thank God.

No news...is...bad news?

So, the place I've been interviewing at since freaking November called the other guy who is up for the job this morning and left him a message. He tried to call them back but they haven't gotten back to him yet. Obviously this means that we will know by tonight who got the job, but I think that since they called him first and seem to want to get in touch with him, that probably means they are going to offer him the job. If that's the case I will be SO happy for him because he's an awesome guy and would be so great at this job, but of course I'll be disappointed that once again I was RE-JEC-TED. Oh well, no use counting my little rejection chickens before they're hatched, but I'll be on Phone Watch '06 for the rest of the day.

UPDATE: God, how long is it going to take these people to get on with the official rejection? I have been trying SO HARD to find my zen lately and this is ruining all my efforts. I want to just get it, acknowledge it, and move on...but can't do that until they officially do their thing. Damnit.

UPDATE 2: Yup, I'm officially rejected. The only thing that could possibly make my job hunt worse would be to start getting rejection letters from places I haven't applied. Back to square one I guess. Joy.

Hahahaha...

Who's watching Boston Legal?

Hackey McGuiltyverdict.

HAHAHAHAHA.

On another note...in my procrastination from studying for the MPRE I watched The Unit on CBS tonight and it was, without a doubt, one of the worst TV shows I have ever seen. Ever. They partially lost me when they shot the donkey, and they lost me the rest of the way with their portrayal of military wife-dom as some sort of cultish existence where you MUST live in base housing and you can't make outside phone calls to your family. What a load of crap. I wish I could sue them to get back the hour they stole from me. Those bastards.

In other news, the MPRE CD's from Bar/Bri are so awful. I thought they would be acceptable, but without having the video to keep me entertained/awake, just listening to the audio is absolutely awful. I have listened to 1 of the 4 CD's, read part of the outline, and made a grand total of 0 flashcards, although it's been on my agenda for many days now. Good think I don't have class on Friday...it looks like I'll be procrastinating right until the bitter end. Fantastic.

I got a kinda sorta part-time job.

Today I got a part-time job for next quarter. It's definitely not a permanent thing, but I'm hoping that I'll be able to use it to network a bit, and if I do a decent job, I'll have a good reference from somebody who I'm doing ACTUAL legal work for, rather than professors and government bosses who know I can write and research but don't know whether I can do the kind of work I'm actually currently applying for (mostly). Anyway, I'm excited to the extent I can be excited (ie: once I'm through MPRE/exams I'll hopefully feel normal human emotions again).

I'm very busy these days. Today I came home to grab some stuff so I could go back to school for about five more hours of studying. My friend wants to go to dinner and I gladly accepted. I have been realizing more and more lately how much I DON'T want to leave here yet. I have such a great social network here, I'm not sure I want to give it up. I hope I don't have to, but I'm not going to waste time worrying about it (see post below). Anyway, I'm off to school for the evening, MPRE study materials in hand and Tax stuff in my backpack. Hooray.

How do you know?

I was talking to someone today and this is the exchange (to the best of my memory):

Me: "I don't know, I'm really worried about not finding a job...and, well, you know...relationship stuff, and where will I live, and, Oh God, the list goes on and on."

Him: "Well, what's the worst thing that could really happen?"

Me: "I end up living in my parent's basement at 50 with 100 cats."

Him: "Well, do you really believe that's going to happen? Do you know that's going to happen?"

Me: "Of course not. I mean, you can never know for sure what might happen, right?"

Him: "How much time do you spend thinking about all the terrible things that could happen in your life? Not finding a job? Never finding the right mate? People not liking you enough?"

Me: "A lot of time. All the time."

Him: "So, how is your life now any better than the worst case scenario? You're already living the worst that can happen. Your life is spent worrying and being anxious and trying to control every possible thing and person instead of being lived and enjoyed and experienced."

Me: "Damn."

Wedding

There was no rice. No confetti. No limo, doves, cake, or tiny toddlers throwing rose petals at our feet. There wasn’t even a white dress. Despite all of this, there was a wedding.

We arrived at the courthouse and immediately began waiting. Waiting for forms, waiting for pens to fill the forms out, and finally waiting in line to turn the forms in to one of the extremely bored looking public servants. On the forms we detailed all of our pertinent information; name, address, blood type, prior names (“Honey, I don’t think you have to put down ‘King of all that is Beer!’”).

Each couple in line had their own way of waiting. Some leaned on the grimy velveteen ropes, the nap long since rubbed off by the nervous hands of the nearly wed. A few held hands and whispered softly to each other. I imagined them making promises … “forever,” “eternity,” “someday we’ll do this for real!” Or, more likely, “How much is this going to cost again? Oh, $27? That’s not bad!” As we inched forward, one couple at a time, my soon-to-be husband began to look fairly apprehensive.

It started with the tie. The horrible, awful, South Park tie. The tie that would not disappear, no matter how fervently I prayed: promising God I’d clean my room, go to the gym at *least* four days a week, and give up vodka this-time-for-real-I-mean-it. He started by fanning his increasingly sweaty face with the tie tails (Look! It’s Cartman! … Look! It’s Kenny!). His fidgeting became frantic and he finally stuck two fingers between his collar and the knot, loosening the accursed beast of a tie with the fervor of a man who has just realized that the decorative piece of silk around his neck is the first cousin of the noose.

Next came the swaying. I imagined I was on the honeymoon we weren’t actually going to be taking. A cruise ship rocking back and forth on the gentle waves of the Caribbean Sea instead of my fiance rocking back and forth on the grimy linoleum of the county courthouse. Just then, my future husband, the man who would hopefully spend a lifetime saving me from spiders and burglars and his mother’s insidious questions about my fertility, sat down in a moment of collapse so graceless it was breathtaking and put his head between his knees.

The other couples stared. They actually gawked. I blushed and kicked his shin, which caused him to obligingly raise one hand up in a sort of “I’m OK” salute without being forced to actually lift his head above midline. I thought briefly about trying to find a paper bag, handy for hyperventilation as well as any lingering nausea issues, but discarded the idea after a quick review of a little mental list I liked to think of as: “Things I Will Not Have To Endure On My Wedding Day.” Directly after “Answering Future Father-in-Law’s Question About Whether They’re Real” was “Having To Fetch Barf Bag.”

As the couple directly in front of us went into the small room where the civil ceremonies took place, I broke one of my own rules and asked a question to which I was not sure I wanted to know the answer. “Hey honey, are you OK? Do you still want to do this?” He wiped away a curtain of sweat that would have been appropriate had he been, say, a roofer standing in a vat of tar in Miami in July, instead of a mild mannered scientist sitting quietly with his head between his legs in an air conditioned building in November, steadied his hands, tightened his wayward tie, and said “Absolutely! Why would you think I was having doubts?” And so, in the interest of eternal bliss and never having to find someone to go to the movies with again, we entered The Marriage Room.

We walked into a small room that was decorated in a style I dubbed “The Land That Color Forgot.” In my mind I wondered fleetingly whether beige was supposed to be calming, but quickly discarded that thought in favor of the certain knowledge that some government worker found four-hundred gallons of beige paint on sale in 1978 and thus the room would remain colorless, humorless, and passionless until every last drop was gone.

The woman who would perform the ceremony walked in, and to my horror, she was carrying two enormous ceramic figurines of a bride and groom “for the pictures.” One was Mickey Mouse wearing a tuxedo, and the other was Minnie Mouse in a traditional wedding gown the likes of which I had not seen on a single woman waiting in the interminable line. I had a sudden urge to ask if there was a Minnie in Chuck Taylor low tops and a red dress, but at the risk of robbing the occasion of whatever dignity it had left, I kept my mouth shut.

The woman explained all the rules and procedures to us. “You have to answer verbally! No head nods! No shoulder shrugs!” “I’m going read the vows. Face each other! Don’t face me, you’re not marrying me!” “Try to smile, but it’s OK to cry!” “Don’t forget to stand far enough apart so that we’ll be able to see Mickey and Minnie in the pictures!!”

The “ceremony” was brief. In fact, the waiting in line and the pre-ceremony warnings were both longer than the vow exchange and Disney photo extravaganza. She left the room to allow us a “private moment,” a moment we spent trying to decide whether or not to steal Mickey and Minnie as a keepsake of the momentous occasion.

The next day, nestled in bed, a lifetime of marital bliss stretched tantalizingly in front of us, we stared at our outstretched hands, now adorned with matching gold bands. I asked my new husband, “Um, should we tell people about this?” “Yes,” he said, “Of course we should, but who first? How do we tell our families that we got married and that, not only weren’t they invited, but we didn’t even consider them until after the fact?”

Our first decision as husband and wife was to procrastinate. To lie by omission. We would revel in our love, roll around in the secret knowledge of our union, dive headfirst into the shared delusion that we could get away with the world’s most poorly executed secret wedding.

Weeks went by. The pressure mounted and finally I called my parents and told them, “Guess what? I got married! Yeah….uh-huh…um...yeah, today! It IS exciting!” And that is how a little white lie became my wedding anniversary.

More bad dates...from someone else for a change!

Many of you who are longtime readers may remember that I did a series of posts once on my Top 5 Bad Dates Ever (One, Two, Three, Four, Five.). Well, Blondie has written about two of her worst dates ever and while I feel bad that she had to endure these people, I am just so damn happy that it doesn't only happen to me. If you decide to write about your worst dates ever, drop me a line and I'll start a list of links...bad dates are ALWAYS funny.

Weekly Law School Roundup #10

Is up over at Evan Schaeffer's Legal Underground. Look for it here next week!

Where did all this laundry come from?

Oh my God, I am doing SIX loads of laundry right now. I'm not sure if it's the product of proscrastination for not wanting to study for exams and the MPRE (why yes, this shower curtain does need to be washed! immediately!), or if I really haven't done laundry in weeks (yup, that's true too), but holy crap...I can't believe how much damn laundry I have. I also vacuumed and cleaned the kitchen. Go me!

I went to dinner at a friend's house last night with our other friend and her husband and it was so fun! I ended up staying until nearly 2:30am just talking to my friend about school and jobs and everything else and it was great...it's been a long time since I just hung out and chit-chatted and had a couple beers with a girlfriend.

Today on the agenda is YET MORE chore-like activity, including grocery shopping, rent-paying, and a trip to 7-11 for my Super Big Gulp, and then I guess I really do need to get my shit together and start studying. For some reason I can't get into it until the house is clean. You always hear about how people nest when they're pregnant...I think I nest for exams.

Oh look, Adults of the Corn*

So, the Weirdest Thing Ever happened yesterday.

As you will recall, my friend from school and I are the only two people left in the running for this job we've both been interviewing for since mid-November. We've been to eleventeen interviews, they were supposed to make a decision by end of December, then end of January, then end of February, and so far nothing. We have a deal where whoever gets the job has to take the other one out drinking. So, basically, every day at least once we catch up on whether the other has heard anything, theories about why it's taking so long, etc. That's just background to the Weirdest Thing Ever.

In the meantime, while I'm waiting to hear about the job above, I'm applying to anything that comes up on Symplicity (like eAttorney) that I would be even remotely qualified for in any universe. Recently I applied to a clerkship in Oregon because it was near my parents and I thought that it was remote enough that even I might have a shot.

Yesterday, when I get home, I have a letter in the mail from said clerkship. Needless to say, by the size of the envelope, I can tell it's a rejection letter...but hey, what's new? So, I open it up to see what their excuse is and GUESS WHAT? NO GUESS!

The rejection LETTER is addressed and everything to my FRIEND, the one who I'm up for the OTHER job against, but the rejection ENVELOPE is addressed to me. So, I totally freak out and start laughing and go to email him and he's already emailed me telling me "OH MY GOD, I just got YOUR REJECTION LETTER in MY REJECTION ENVELOPE!!"

I think our job futures are intertwined or cosmically twisted or something. Maybe we should start a practice together or something, it seems like the universe is trying to tell us something!

*This may only be funny if you've been watching an awful lot of Mystery Science Theater 3000 episodes via Netflix. This comes from Prince of Space.

Six bucks and my right nut says were not landing in Chicago.

Best advice ever.

One of the people that shares my office just told me:

"E. Spat, if you don't want to go to Trenton, get off the train that's bound for Trenton. It's that easy."

Quote of the Night. Part 2.

The quote of the night for last night goes to Guacamole Kid.

He was regaling us with stories of his home state of Alaska, where the beer flows like wine and the men are...well...there's a lot of 'em. His favorite little saying is "Alaska, where the odds are good, but the goods are odd." So, as usual, he's telling me I should move to Alaska because I would love it there and there's like 7 men to every woman and I would just be in heaven, and I'd never buy my own drinks ever again. And this is how he described it (after a few million pitchers of Labatts were had by all of us):

"You'd get so much c*ck you'd be able to build a picket-fence from here to Fairbanks!"

I have NO IDEA what that actually means, but I'll tell you that after about 20 pints of Labatts, I laughed so hard my sides are LITERALLY sore today.

That's *exactly* why I'm not heavy into activities.

Last night two of my friends and I went to Guacamole Kid's final hockey game, complete with signs we made (with glitter paint no less), a slight buzz, and a lot of attitude. We had a great time waving our signs and screaming for him, and frankly, since generally no one ever shows up, I think the players thought it was funny and/or crazy. We had a good time though and felt like true fans of the GK. There were some good quotes at the bar afterwards, and as soon as I dig through my purse and find the one I wrote down, perhaps I'll post it...I do remember writing it down.

I'm thrilled that the week is over, although I guess it's not so exciting to think about spending the weekend outlining Tax and what have you, but hey...every day is one day closer to Spring Break...right?

I have yet to hear from any of the various jobs I've applied for. I kind of feel like they all got together and decided to actually do this on purpose or something...I mean, it's just too well coordinated to be random! And lastly, my personal life is, as always, a mess. What's new? I have put off dealing with the various issues mostly until after exams. Right now my whole philosophy is that I'm just doing what I need to do mentally to get through exams, and if that turns out to be a mistake, well, I'll have a whole week to deal with all of it during Spring Break. I know that's probably not the most fantastic plan ever, but it's the only one I currently have.

Am I jumpin' around all nimbly bimbly from tree to tree?

I don't know why, I just have the quote in the title of this post stuck in my head...maybe I need to watch Super Troopers again? For about the four-hundredth time?

So, this morning, with the help of a friend who is more on top of schoolwork on her worst day than I will be on my best day times 100, I figured out that my Tax professor, who I like very much, added an extra day to the syllabus. February 29th. I do not like this turn of events. It appears now that I am even MORE behind than I thought because, as I'm sure you all know, there is actually no February 29th this year. So, now apparently I am required to do reading for days that don't even exist. This is a problem.

I have decided to do the MPRE Bar/Bri review on self-study so I don't have to spend 6 hours of my life at a lecture tomorrow. Plus, if they give me the CD I can watch it/listen to it whenever I want, including in my pajamas on my couch while eating ice cream, or better yet, drinking a beer. So I think that sounds like a reasonable plan.

I am SO GLAD to be done with the Trial Ad mock trial thingie from last night. It just sucked up a lot of time and was making me even more nervous and anxiety-ridden than normal, something I really don't need right now. If I make it through exams with my sanity intact, it will be a miracle. And honestly, this quarter has not turned out to be the laid back, 3L second to the last quarter that I had envisioned. Damnit.

But, at least things are sort of moving along, getting crossed off the "To-Do" list one by one. I guess that's all a girl can ask for! I'm going to the gym today...and Guacamole Kid's last hockey game as he prepares to be done with school after this quarter and go back to his home state. I'm excited about the beer, and yet sad that there won't be any more hockey nights in the future.

Quote of the Night

Our trial was a sexual harassment case...my side was Plaintiff. In the course of interviewing job candidates, a supervisor for Defendant Company had a (bad) habit of writing down his "thoughts" regarding each of the young, pretty, single candidates. If they were ugly or somehow undesirable, they miraculously didn't get hired. So, on one resume he wrote (among other things) "cold fish" and drew a picture of a fish next to it. With little bubbles coming out of the mouth no less.

Defense Counsel: "Why did you draw the picture of the fish?"

Witness: "Well, I noticed on her resume how much she likes watersports."

Only dirty minded people will probably get this, and I'm going to get a ton of freaking google hits looking for something VERY different than this story, but I very nearly lost my shit right in front of our "judge."

More on the trial later. Maybe. It went well. We won on all the legal issues but got REALLY limited damages. And no attorney's fees. :(

Wouldn't you like to be a Pepper too?

I am alive. Barely.

No, just kidding. I'm alive and kicking, getting ready for my little mock bench trial tonight and all that goes with it. I ended up being called yesterday afternoon by one of the teams who went last night saying they lost their main witness and needed someone ASAP who knew the case, so I flew downtown after school and spent yesterday evening witnessing for them. I thought it was going to be a big time-waster, but I'm glad I did it because I got to see how they handled stuff and what objections came up and stuff, and I think it set my mind at ease a bit. Sometimes when the team you're going against is super-competitive it's hard to remember that it's OK for you to have your own style and do your own thing. Pass/Fail people, Pass/Fail.

In the upcoming days I have things to do, meetings, plans, etc., literally from sunup to sundown, so I have no idea what or when I will be posting. But I'll be around and maybe something funny will happen to lighten this place up a bit from my recent depressing ramblings. Shit has been kind of tough lately and it's shining through, I know...I promise I'm trying to get through everything and be a little less maudlin, we'll just have to see.