Oh goodness. It seems like every time I have my Legal Research class (every Wednesday) I have a new problem with my Dean's Fellow. You know, the one who can't pronounce "subsequently" the correct way? Well today it wasn't about that word. She didn't even use that word. We've moved on to a whole new word that she can't say for some bizarre reason. Treatise. Seems pretty simple right? Treat-is (kinda). Well, it's certainly not how she says it: "Treaty." Remember that time that treaty was a different word than treatise? I do. It's all the time. They are spelled differently, mean different things, and are pronounced differently. Or they should be pronounced differently. They were today. And there is no excuse. She said it 3 times while the word "treatise" was up on the powerpoint. Come on! I have no idea what her problem is. She missed the day in 4th grade where the rest of us learned how to pronounce words without sounding like retards? I don't remember that exact lesson plan, but I still know how to pronounce these fairly basic words correctly. It's not even like treatise could be read as 'treaty.' This makes no sense! I did actually try to correct her today. The first time she said "treaty" I looked around to see if anyone else heard it. Apparently no one did (or, more likely, no one was paying attention-I know the guy next to me was checking his fantasy football team; I was checking my fantasy baseball team). The second time she mispronounced it I said "treatise?" discreetly. I was trying to correct her politely. I expected her to say, "Yeah, sorry, that's what I meant, treatise." But she just kept on going, and mispronounced it again. Maybe she didn't hear me. Maybe she didn't understand. But at least I tried. But she's definitely screwed once she gets a job. Sooner or later she is going to mispronounce a commonplace word and everyone is going to tease her mercilessly. Then fire her.
During lunch today I was browsing BDP's facebook info and came across a hilarious Star Wars related quote. I let him know it brightened my day. But it put me in a Star Wars mood. I let my (not so) inner nerd out and discussed Star Wars with some of my classmates who were trying to study. No time for studying. Only talking about Star Wars with me! I came up with a couple of situations where I want to see what would happen:
What would happen if I get cold called in a class and I just look my professor in the eye and say "These are not the droids you are looking for"? What would happen? Would I have to answer the question? Would I get a response?
What if I came to class dressed as an Imperial Stormtrooper? Nothing else weird, acting normally. Just full uniform, helmet, blaster and everything. Could I stay?
What if I went to the White House dressed as an Imperial Stormtrooper and stood guard as if I were in the Secret Service? What do you think the actual Secret Service would do? Even better, if I were President I would make my Secret Service agents dress up as stormtroopers for Halloween. They would love it.
My Star Wars mood gradually moved towards the Cantina song. I played it a few times and managed to get it stuck in everyone's head for the duration of LRW. I'd say that was a success. That song is actually ridiculous. It is preposterously repetitive and addictive. It would be a really bad ring tone...
Michael Moore...not sure how I feel about his new movie. Mostly because I haven't seen it. But what I really mean is I'm not sure if I want to see it. I have a soft spot for him. I know he's a whack-job. But I like "Bowling for Columbine." Yes, he uses crappy ambush techniques. And he's an egomaniac. And Fahrenheit 9/11 is (more than) a little crazy. But for some reason I am interested in what he has to say. It might be the liberal counterpart to why I sometimes watch Fox News. It's part masochism, part interest. I generally agree with Moore's point. Just everything else is a little crappy. From the trailer, Moore showing up on Wall St. with a bull horn attempting to make a citizens arrest is exactly the kind of crap I am talking about. Why you gotta be that guy, Michael Moore? Why do you have to pull douchey stunts to prove your point? Can't you just interview legit people, keep your face off the screen, and make your point without pissing off 9/10ths of America? Apparently not. But I kinda want to see what he's on about this time.
The other movie I can't decide if I want to see is "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell," the Tucker Max movie. I like the book, but it's the kind of stuff I'm not sure will translate well onto the screen. Scratch that. It definitely will not translate well. It's going to be a fratty movie, but I like Tucker Max. Hrmm. Anyone seen it? Advice?
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Even Gwen Stefani said she couldn't doubt me
First off, Jonah gets a shout out. Front and center. He paid the price. So shout out to Jonah. He's "the man," as he would say.
There is an inverse ratio between my like for my Torts professor and the amount to which he rails on moral philosophy in class. It's becoming problematic, particularly since everyone else loves him. "Oh, he's so quirky and fun with his bow ties and his hypotheticals. Tee-hee." False. He is a spectacular teacher; he is very good at communicating the subject. But I realize he is imparting his formalist (read: conservative) point of view and not really allowing much room for discussion. With him there is always a right answer according to the law. If you argue a different position you are wrong. No time. But the thing that irks me most is his (at this point) disparagment of moral philosophy. Why don't you like it? Because doing the right thing isn't important? That's what it seems like. But Spike Lee says differently. I understand what he is trying to do - to make us think about problems legally rather than morally. But with legal problems there is almost always room for argument (oh wait, not with him), yet he is just incredibly intent on following the letter of the law exactly. And it takes him to his beliefs...would you believe that? That's called law for the sake of law. But that's not the point of the law. The law is supposed to enshrine and protect higher ideas like, I don't know, justice and the good. Those things seem pretty important. But according to my professor's view the law is supposed to enshrine...the law. Wow, how's that for a tautology?
I've had enough of torts. But not torte. Chocolate torte with raspberry sauce to be specific. Had me some of that tonight, it was absolutely delicious. Rebecca and I went to this dessert/wine place. Aside from the delicious torte, the best part was trying to figure out what this guy at the bar was doing. He was there when we got and and he was there when we left. He was overweight and wearing a bowling shirt. He was balding yet had a pony tail. He was just sitting in front of a TV, not watching it, talking to some lady. Who are you balding pony tail man? And what are you doing with your life that you spend 3 hours (guestimating here) at a wine bar on a Tuesday night?
There is an inverse ratio between my like for my Torts professor and the amount to which he rails on moral philosophy in class. It's becoming problematic, particularly since everyone else loves him. "Oh, he's so quirky and fun with his bow ties and his hypotheticals. Tee-hee." False. He is a spectacular teacher; he is very good at communicating the subject. But I realize he is imparting his formalist (read: conservative) point of view and not really allowing much room for discussion. With him there is always a right answer according to the law. If you argue a different position you are wrong. No time. But the thing that irks me most is his (at this point) disparagment of moral philosophy. Why don't you like it? Because doing the right thing isn't important? That's what it seems like. But Spike Lee says differently. I understand what he is trying to do - to make us think about problems legally rather than morally. But with legal problems there is almost always room for argument (oh wait, not with him), yet he is just incredibly intent on following the letter of the law exactly. And it takes him to his beliefs...would you believe that? That's called law for the sake of law. But that's not the point of the law. The law is supposed to enshrine and protect higher ideas like, I don't know, justice and the good. Those things seem pretty important. But according to my professor's view the law is supposed to enshrine...the law. Wow, how's that for a tautology?
I've had enough of torts. But not torte. Chocolate torte with raspberry sauce to be specific. Had me some of that tonight, it was absolutely delicious. Rebecca and I went to this dessert/wine place. Aside from the delicious torte, the best part was trying to figure out what this guy at the bar was doing. He was there when we got and and he was there when we left. He was overweight and wearing a bowling shirt. He was balding yet had a pony tail. He was just sitting in front of a TV, not watching it, talking to some lady. Who are you balding pony tail man? And what are you doing with your life that you spend 3 hours (guestimating here) at a wine bar on a Tuesday night?
Monday, September 28, 2009
Food is good
I'm going to remind myself to be more thankful for food in the future. Life is rough without it. It was not the easiest fast of all time, rather than getting hunger pains, I just got really tired. Like hunger lethargy. Playing video games was hard to do I have so little energy. That's right, I was almost too lazy to do the laziest activity known to man. But Damien and I still beat the really crappy PS3 version of Ninja Turtles. I was Rafael, no big deal.
The afternoon/evening services that we attended were Reform. I've never been to Reform services before. It was kind of nice, but not something I would choose to attend on a regular basis. There was a lot of English going on, and I was more looking for a language that I don't understand. Also there was a woman who was the "cantorial soloist." She had a really great voice, but she used it a lot. And often was accompanied by piano. Piano in the service, that's new to me. Next thing there will be a hippie drum circle service where we'll kick a bean bag around a lawn and talk about the 60's. Wait, it's the day of atonement? Oh, right. No, my real problem was that the soloist liked to show that she had a good voice, so every prayers she sang took about three times as long as it needed to. Like I could have read it just as fast, and I don't remember how to read Hebrew very well at all. But I feel atoned. And it was actually really nice going to services. I didnt mess anything up too bad...I didn't stand when everyone else was sitting or vice-versa. Granted, I don't speak Hebrew, which probably got me judged by a few people sitting near me (woman with big eyes sitting a row in front and a seat to my left in the morning service, I'm looking at you, you judger), but it's all good.
Damien and I broke fast at a Mongolian barbecue restaurant which ended up being quite similar to Fire and Ice. It was also similar to Fire and Ice in that I ate way too much and feel like vomiting. But gosh food is nice and I appreciate it. Drink is also pretty essential. The best part of the day may have been that I didn't have to think about law school. Well I clearly just thought of it, so forget that, but previously I didn't really have to think about it. That was clutch. Tomorrow at 8:30 am it's back to the grind. Bring it, LRW class/professor whom I dislike.
The afternoon/evening services that we attended were Reform. I've never been to Reform services before. It was kind of nice, but not something I would choose to attend on a regular basis. There was a lot of English going on, and I was more looking for a language that I don't understand. Also there was a woman who was the "cantorial soloist." She had a really great voice, but she used it a lot. And often was accompanied by piano. Piano in the service, that's new to me. Next thing there will be a hippie drum circle service where we'll kick a bean bag around a lawn and talk about the 60's. Wait, it's the day of atonement? Oh, right. No, my real problem was that the soloist liked to show that she had a good voice, so every prayers she sang took about three times as long as it needed to. Like I could have read it just as fast, and I don't remember how to read Hebrew very well at all. But I feel atoned. And it was actually really nice going to services. I didnt mess anything up too bad...I didn't stand when everyone else was sitting or vice-versa. Granted, I don't speak Hebrew, which probably got me judged by a few people sitting near me (woman with big eyes sitting a row in front and a seat to my left in the morning service, I'm looking at you, you judger), but it's all good.
Damien and I broke fast at a Mongolian barbecue restaurant which ended up being quite similar to Fire and Ice. It was also similar to Fire and Ice in that I ate way too much and feel like vomiting. But gosh food is nice and I appreciate it. Drink is also pretty essential. The best part of the day may have been that I didn't have to think about law school. Well I clearly just thought of it, so forget that, but previously I didn't really have to think about it. That was clutch. Tomorrow at 8:30 am it's back to the grind. Bring it, LRW class/professor whom I dislike.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Yom Kippur and hungry already
It is a remarkable 3 hours into the Yom Kippur fast and wouldn't you know it, I am hungry. This does not bode well for the next 22 hours of fasting. At least I will be asleep for a few of those hours. And with the rest of them I'll be doing exciting things like listening to services in a language I don't understand and reading about personal jurisdiction. Whoopee! I'm actually excited though, it is what I want to do. I really like the idea of Yom Kippur, a day of atonement. And I'm (clearly) not Catholic, so this isn't a common occurrence that you get forgiveness. I like the contemplativeness of the day. No pressure to do anything in particular, just to think. It's rare.
I forgot a ridiculous occurrence that happened on Saturday night on the way to Adams Morgan with Damien. We were on the metro and we pulled in to the Van Ness stop. People got off; people got on. The announcement came on, as it always does, "Doors closing, step back." The doors closed. Then the doors opened. Then the announcement, "Doors closing, step back." Then the doors closed. Then the doors opened. This cycle repeated for about 5 minutes with everyone on the train getting first confused, then frustrated. Some people reached downright anger. It was amusing to watch a girl who had been next to the doors freak out, thinking that she had leaned on them and this was all her fault. It wasn't her fault, but it was someone's. Eventually all the passengers of the train were told to get off and wait on the platform for the next train. We complied, but not without profanity. Damien struck up a conversation with some woman wearing ridiculous yellow shoes. She liked him, but apparently he wussed out and didn't invite her to go with us. It may not have helped that he was beginning to look like Wolfman because he hadn't shaved in a day and a half (though it's not his fault he grows facial hair at a Tim Allen-like rate (some Santa Claus movie, right?)). Eventually the next train comes and the hundred or so people who were inconvenienced by the previous train get on the new one. We take our seats and hold our breath, waiting to see what happens when it is time for the doors to close. "Doors closing, step back" and they close. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief. Then the doors fly open. Everyone looks perplexed for a second until I break out into laughter. A few other people then join me. My laughter continues as the train driver comes over the speaker saying "You need to step back from the door sir, or else the same thing is gonna happen. Stop touching the door!" He wasn't messing around, you could tell. The doors closed and we went. But someone was to blame all along! Thanks, jerk. It's funny to know that one inconsiderate/idiotic person can cause so many other people so many problems. Oh wait, we already lived through the 43rd presidency and learned that lesson.
Last night I went to Rachel's for a pirate themed party. Let me tell you, it was not where all the cool kids were. There were, in fact, only three cool kids present: Rachel, Gavi, and me. The other 15 people, sadly, did not qualify for our category. Their pirate costumes, vehemence for awkwardness, and general demeanor disqualified them. The three of us ate pizza (damn, reminded myself I'm hungry) and generally hung out which was quite pleasant. I did get warned against law school by someone who just graduated. That's always a good sign. I think she's just bitter because she doesn't have a job or an attractive personality. Maybe the pirate costume wasn't helping her, just a thought.
This morning I submitted the infamous Memo 1. It was a lot of help learning that citations were a maximum of 2 (out of 40) points. Wish I had seen that sooner. I'm not thrilled about how it turned out, but I'm not thrilled about legal writing in general. I'm certainly no Oliver Wendell Holmes. I celebrated turning in the memo with a run on the treadmill, a shower, and going to a bar to watch football all day with Dan. We ran into some people from school and met others. It was nice relaxing, drinking my Diet Coke, eating my buffalo wing, and watching the Patriots win. My only qualm is that I got wicked ADD during the game. This is a sports bar that has half a million (maybe 30) television screens. That's a lot. They had about 7 games on at a time, and I ended up trying to follow every one while focusing on the Patriots. It was quite a task and I think I failed at it for the most part. I was crippled by my poor eye sight and my refusal to wear my glasses in any but the most dire circumstances.
I forgot a ridiculous occurrence that happened on Saturday night on the way to Adams Morgan with Damien. We were on the metro and we pulled in to the Van Ness stop. People got off; people got on. The announcement came on, as it always does, "Doors closing, step back." The doors closed. Then the doors opened. Then the announcement, "Doors closing, step back." Then the doors closed. Then the doors opened. This cycle repeated for about 5 minutes with everyone on the train getting first confused, then frustrated. Some people reached downright anger. It was amusing to watch a girl who had been next to the doors freak out, thinking that she had leaned on them and this was all her fault. It wasn't her fault, but it was someone's. Eventually all the passengers of the train were told to get off and wait on the platform for the next train. We complied, but not without profanity. Damien struck up a conversation with some woman wearing ridiculous yellow shoes. She liked him, but apparently he wussed out and didn't invite her to go with us. It may not have helped that he was beginning to look like Wolfman because he hadn't shaved in a day and a half (though it's not his fault he grows facial hair at a Tim Allen-like rate (some Santa Claus movie, right?)). Eventually the next train comes and the hundred or so people who were inconvenienced by the previous train get on the new one. We take our seats and hold our breath, waiting to see what happens when it is time for the doors to close. "Doors closing, step back" and they close. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief. Then the doors fly open. Everyone looks perplexed for a second until I break out into laughter. A few other people then join me. My laughter continues as the train driver comes over the speaker saying "You need to step back from the door sir, or else the same thing is gonna happen. Stop touching the door!" He wasn't messing around, you could tell. The doors closed and we went. But someone was to blame all along! Thanks, jerk. It's funny to know that one inconsiderate/idiotic person can cause so many other people so many problems. Oh wait, we already lived through the 43rd presidency and learned that lesson.
Last night I went to Rachel's for a pirate themed party. Let me tell you, it was not where all the cool kids were. There were, in fact, only three cool kids present: Rachel, Gavi, and me. The other 15 people, sadly, did not qualify for our category. Their pirate costumes, vehemence for awkwardness, and general demeanor disqualified them. The three of us ate pizza (damn, reminded myself I'm hungry) and generally hung out which was quite pleasant. I did get warned against law school by someone who just graduated. That's always a good sign. I think she's just bitter because she doesn't have a job or an attractive personality. Maybe the pirate costume wasn't helping her, just a thought.
This morning I submitted the infamous Memo 1. It was a lot of help learning that citations were a maximum of 2 (out of 40) points. Wish I had seen that sooner. I'm not thrilled about how it turned out, but I'm not thrilled about legal writing in general. I'm certainly no Oliver Wendell Holmes. I celebrated turning in the memo with a run on the treadmill, a shower, and going to a bar to watch football all day with Dan. We ran into some people from school and met others. It was nice relaxing, drinking my Diet Coke, eating my buffalo wing, and watching the Patriots win. My only qualm is that I got wicked ADD during the game. This is a sports bar that has half a million (maybe 30) television screens. That's a lot. They had about 7 games on at a time, and I ended up trying to follow every one while focusing on the Patriots. It was quite a task and I think I failed at it for the most part. I was crippled by my poor eye sight and my refusal to wear my glasses in any but the most dire circumstances.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
A Tale of Two Bar Nights
Two bars, both alike in dignity (lacking), in fair DC where we lay our scene...
I know I am mixing my references, let's get over it. Thursday night and Friday night were both bar nights with different results. Thursday night was bar review. I hung out with some people from law school, then some others, then some others, until a group of about seven of us split two taxis to a bar on U Street. This was actually my first cab ride since getting to the city. I'm not made of money here, and splitting a cab with three other people makes it just about as cheap at the metro. I can certainly say that I appreciate cars so much more now that I don't have one. I miss having a car. Well we made it to the bar around 11:30. Usually I'm watching Top Chef, getting ready to go to bed and contemplating my midnight snack by then. But, given my current state of mind, I was resolute that I would stay out like I was still in college. No excuses, play like a champion. Well I did, let me tell you. I think most of our conversation was on the unfortunate topic of law school, but I suppose that is bound to happen when that's pretty much all you know you have in common. I need to start watching more college football so I can participate in that common conversation as well. But I somehow can't seem to care enough. I ended up talking with three guys about something that involved gun rights and the Israel/Palestinian conflict. I'm not quite sure what it was, but I'm sure I was not the best conversationalist at that point. Well the four of us realized it was 2am, and we had better take a cab back. We did, and the cab driver tried to take us on a circuitous route home, thinking we wouldn't notice. Well we did, jerk. It's just good that there were four of us and at least one of us was paying attention to where he was driving. Naughty cab driver.
Thankfully Torts was canceled Friday morning, leaving me to sleep until 10 and to stumble into Criminal Law, very dehydrated, at 11. I would be lying if I said I was in the mood to watch a documentary about a woman who was executed in Oklahoma and then listen to the class voice their views about capital punishment. But my will does not govern the class, so that all happened. I really needed more coffee (and water) when class was over, and I certainly was not in the mood to accept an invitation to go to the Holocaust Museum that afternoon. Basically I wasn't in great shape.
My head vaguely hurt until around 8pm, when I found myself drinking a margarita at a Mexican restaurant in Bethesda with Damien. I did not want this margarita, it was placed in my hand. "Will, what do you want to drink?" "Water." Bam, I got a margarita. This was a harbinger of the rest of the night. Dinner was three incredibly filling enchiladas. Because I was actually paying for a restaurant meal for once, rather than cooking for myself, I thought I should eat it all. Well, I didn't, and I felt like crap for having tried but at least I got my money's worth. Then, after some Street Fighter and TMNT on the PS3, Damien and I made our way to Adams Morgan. We went to some rooftop bar first which was cool in principle, but contained way too many intoxicated 30 year-olds acting like they were 19 for me to be comfortable. I ordered a beer at this bar, it was the last drink I would buy that night, and I couldn't even finish it I was still so damn full of chicken enchiladas. I told Damien this bar sucked, made him chug his drink and finish my beer and we left. After a long walk (about twenty feet) we went into another bar where we met up with Damien's friend and two of her friends. At first we were standing around because there were no seats, but we stealthily usurped a table from a few drunk guys. We Green Beretta-ed that table. It helped that one of them appeared to be an Irish football (soccer) hooligan who couldn't stand up straight. One of Damien's friends, (Mollymae what kind of name is that? She sounds like an insurance company) got hit on by some creepy guy. I am glad that this happened only because I got to see the creepy guy's creepier friends, who had the creepiest (aha, I got to the superlative!) moustache in the history of facial hair. No joke, this looked like it was created on an etch-a-sketch. It was uneven and slanty and all kinds of bad things. He didn't even look like a pedophile (as bad moustaches will do to you), it was more like World War Moustache just happened above his lip and you kind of felt bad. Bad enough to contemplate finding the local CVS and buying him a razor. The other friend of Damien's friend was a Mexican guy who was pretty chill. We talked about Mexican-American relations and such. At one point he whipped out his passport, showed the picture (not a good one) around, and asked "Would you let someone who looks like this into your country? I wouldn't." So things were going alright, when Mexican friend decided to be chummy and buy all 5 of us a round of shots. Tequila shots. Ugh. Let me be clear, I was drinking a glass of water in this bar. I did not really want to drink, and I really did not was to drink tequila. But I'm not going to be ungracious, it's not like I have a problem with drinking. I just wasn't thrilled with the fact that I was moderately hung over all day. Alright, tequila, great. Then someone else bought a round of jello shots. Then someone else a round of car bombs. Then another round of jello shots. Where is this hospitality when I do want to drink? It must be nice to have a job and thus money to buy rounds for people, 'cause I certainly don't do that. But I was gracious for every round, though I went easy on the jello shots and spilled about half of my car bomb on my shirt because the shot glass displaced too much beer. Turns out it was 3 am. I was yawning. But I was yawning at 9 pm also and thought I wouldn't make it past midnight. Jeez, what happened? We left the bar and immediately found ourselves in the middle of sketch-ville. Adams Morgan at 3 am on a Friday night can be summed up best by a comment I made when two girls ran out in front of our taxi: "Wow, there are literally hundreds of bad decisions happening right now." Status report: 3 am, in a taxi. I was still full of Mexican food, now also full of various badly paired drinks which were bought for me, full of urine because of how much water I drank, and exhausted. I finally got into bed around 3:30 and had weird dreams until waking up this morning a little before 11. I realize now that I need coffee, and this will be a difficult problem to solve when I'm not eating anything on Monday. Oh well, bring it day of fasting.
I know I am mixing my references, let's get over it. Thursday night and Friday night were both bar nights with different results. Thursday night was bar review. I hung out with some people from law school, then some others, then some others, until a group of about seven of us split two taxis to a bar on U Street. This was actually my first cab ride since getting to the city. I'm not made of money here, and splitting a cab with three other people makes it just about as cheap at the metro. I can certainly say that I appreciate cars so much more now that I don't have one. I miss having a car. Well we made it to the bar around 11:30. Usually I'm watching Top Chef, getting ready to go to bed and contemplating my midnight snack by then. But, given my current state of mind, I was resolute that I would stay out like I was still in college. No excuses, play like a champion. Well I did, let me tell you. I think most of our conversation was on the unfortunate topic of law school, but I suppose that is bound to happen when that's pretty much all you know you have in common. I need to start watching more college football so I can participate in that common conversation as well. But I somehow can't seem to care enough. I ended up talking with three guys about something that involved gun rights and the Israel/Palestinian conflict. I'm not quite sure what it was, but I'm sure I was not the best conversationalist at that point. Well the four of us realized it was 2am, and we had better take a cab back. We did, and the cab driver tried to take us on a circuitous route home, thinking we wouldn't notice. Well we did, jerk. It's just good that there were four of us and at least one of us was paying attention to where he was driving. Naughty cab driver.
Thankfully Torts was canceled Friday morning, leaving me to sleep until 10 and to stumble into Criminal Law, very dehydrated, at 11. I would be lying if I said I was in the mood to watch a documentary about a woman who was executed in Oklahoma and then listen to the class voice their views about capital punishment. But my will does not govern the class, so that all happened. I really needed more coffee (and water) when class was over, and I certainly was not in the mood to accept an invitation to go to the Holocaust Museum that afternoon. Basically I wasn't in great shape.
My head vaguely hurt until around 8pm, when I found myself drinking a margarita at a Mexican restaurant in Bethesda with Damien. I did not want this margarita, it was placed in my hand. "Will, what do you want to drink?" "Water." Bam, I got a margarita. This was a harbinger of the rest of the night. Dinner was three incredibly filling enchiladas. Because I was actually paying for a restaurant meal for once, rather than cooking for myself, I thought I should eat it all. Well, I didn't, and I felt like crap for having tried but at least I got my money's worth. Then, after some Street Fighter and TMNT on the PS3, Damien and I made our way to Adams Morgan. We went to some rooftop bar first which was cool in principle, but contained way too many intoxicated 30 year-olds acting like they were 19 for me to be comfortable. I ordered a beer at this bar, it was the last drink I would buy that night, and I couldn't even finish it I was still so damn full of chicken enchiladas. I told Damien this bar sucked, made him chug his drink and finish my beer and we left. After a long walk (about twenty feet) we went into another bar where we met up with Damien's friend and two of her friends. At first we were standing around because there were no seats, but we stealthily usurped a table from a few drunk guys. We Green Beretta-ed that table. It helped that one of them appeared to be an Irish football (soccer) hooligan who couldn't stand up straight. One of Damien's friends, (Mollymae what kind of name is that? She sounds like an insurance company) got hit on by some creepy guy. I am glad that this happened only because I got to see the creepy guy's creepier friends, who had the creepiest (aha, I got to the superlative!) moustache in the history of facial hair. No joke, this looked like it was created on an etch-a-sketch. It was uneven and slanty and all kinds of bad things. He didn't even look like a pedophile (as bad moustaches will do to you), it was more like World War Moustache just happened above his lip and you kind of felt bad. Bad enough to contemplate finding the local CVS and buying him a razor. The other friend of Damien's friend was a Mexican guy who was pretty chill. We talked about Mexican-American relations and such. At one point he whipped out his passport, showed the picture (not a good one) around, and asked "Would you let someone who looks like this into your country? I wouldn't." So things were going alright, when Mexican friend decided to be chummy and buy all 5 of us a round of shots. Tequila shots. Ugh. Let me be clear, I was drinking a glass of water in this bar. I did not really want to drink, and I really did not was to drink tequila. But I'm not going to be ungracious, it's not like I have a problem with drinking. I just wasn't thrilled with the fact that I was moderately hung over all day. Alright, tequila, great. Then someone else bought a round of jello shots. Then someone else a round of car bombs. Then another round of jello shots. Where is this hospitality when I do want to drink? It must be nice to have a job and thus money to buy rounds for people, 'cause I certainly don't do that. But I was gracious for every round, though I went easy on the jello shots and spilled about half of my car bomb on my shirt because the shot glass displaced too much beer. Turns out it was 3 am. I was yawning. But I was yawning at 9 pm also and thought I wouldn't make it past midnight. Jeez, what happened? We left the bar and immediately found ourselves in the middle of sketch-ville. Adams Morgan at 3 am on a Friday night can be summed up best by a comment I made when two girls ran out in front of our taxi: "Wow, there are literally hundreds of bad decisions happening right now." Status report: 3 am, in a taxi. I was still full of Mexican food, now also full of various badly paired drinks which were bought for me, full of urine because of how much water I drank, and exhausted. I finally got into bed around 3:30 and had weird dreams until waking up this morning a little before 11. I realize now that I need coffee, and this will be a difficult problem to solve when I'm not eating anything on Monday. Oh well, bring it day of fasting.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Fomalist
Our first written assignment/graded assignment of law school, the aptly titled "Memo 1" is due this Sunday. 1L's are inevitably spending the weekend doing various levels of work with various levels of stress. This ranges from people who don't know anything and are fine figuring it out on the fly to people who don't know anything and are LOSING THEIR MINDS trying to figure it all out. I definitely fall towards the former category, with an emphasis on not knowing anything. I already know people who plan on holing themselves up in the library all weekend. It sounds awful. This is a 5-6 page paper. Let's all calm down. Just because it must be in a foreign, obtuse format does not mean you need to freak out. Eyes on the prize here.
Yesterday's first class was Torts. It ended with our (conservative) professor explaining a doctrine (really just his interpretation of it) and justifying it by saying that he is a formalist and this is how the law is written, so that is how it should be applied even if is not intuitive (read: even if it doesn't make any sense). As a direct contrast, my last class that day, Civil Procedure, involved my (liberal) professor hammering on a Supreme Court decision, saying it makes no sense and that it was "formalist bullshit." I don't think my professors talk to each other very much. But at least both of them have clear agendas.
I got a free flu shot yesterday at school. It was the most like cattle I've ever felt. There were probably 300 people lined up to get free shots. The flu was selling like hot cakes! We waited in line to get to a table where they gave us a consent form, pen, and clipboard. Then, group of 40 at a time, we sat down, and filled out the form. Then, group of 10 at a time, we get called up to hand in our form and get a flu shot. The herd gradually thinned out until only the prime rib was left. Then we were to be slaughtered and eaten. Good thing that wasn't actually happening. Instead of being dinner, I just won't get the flu. Except that I get a little flu-ish after I get the shot. And that it doesn't stop swine flu, that's a separate shot. Yet somehow it is still important to get a flu shot. Sweet.
Yesterday's first class was Torts. It ended with our (conservative) professor explaining a doctrine (really just his interpretation of it) and justifying it by saying that he is a formalist and this is how the law is written, so that is how it should be applied even if is not intuitive (read: even if it doesn't make any sense). As a direct contrast, my last class that day, Civil Procedure, involved my (liberal) professor hammering on a Supreme Court decision, saying it makes no sense and that it was "formalist bullshit." I don't think my professors talk to each other very much. But at least both of them have clear agendas.
I got a free flu shot yesterday at school. It was the most like cattle I've ever felt. There were probably 300 people lined up to get free shots. The flu was selling like hot cakes! We waited in line to get to a table where they gave us a consent form, pen, and clipboard. Then, group of 40 at a time, we sat down, and filled out the form. Then, group of 10 at a time, we get called up to hand in our form and get a flu shot. The herd gradually thinned out until only the prime rib was left. Then we were to be slaughtered and eaten. Good thing that wasn't actually happening. Instead of being dinner, I just won't get the flu. Except that I get a little flu-ish after I get the shot. And that it doesn't stop swine flu, that's a separate shot. Yet somehow it is still important to get a flu shot. Sweet.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Subsequently (part 2)
We were talking about service of process in my Civil Procedure class. It doesn't matter if you don't know what that means. My professor was trying to tease out an answer about why something was not proper service of process. He finally gets the question he was looking for, "What did he say when you gave it to him?" to which my professor, playing the part of the guy in the hypothetical, blurts out three sentences in what sounded like Swedish. The entire class was silent for a moment, then burst into laughter. Why does our professor speak fluent (maybe) Swedish? I have no idea. This moment in Civ Pro was matched only by our discussion of Pennoyer v. Neff when he was asking someone about why the court's reasoning made sense. The student gave some answer and my professor just exploded, "No, it makes ABSOLUTELY no sense." Whoa there Nelly, this is the Supreme Court of the United States of America (SCOTUS) we are talking about here. You can't be yelling and causing a ruckus about it. Well apparently you can, particularly when you happen to be correct and the decision from 1868 is just decided stupidly.
Today I had the dreaded Legal Research class (aka the worst 55 minutes of the week) with my Dean's Fellow who can't speak proper English for one word only. "Sub-see-quently." Well today (in 3rd grade) one of the activities in class was a competitive game about legal citations where we divided into two teams and had to correctly answer the question. Best part, we all got candy!!! (FALSE, the best part would have been putting in my iPod and running out of the room yelling "You eat poop...suckers!" Too bad this didn't happen.) Well I have shared my thoughts on pronunciation of 'subsequently' with my classmates. And when one of them pulled out a citation question for the game, of course it included the word. So my classmate read the question, came to the word, stopped, and very deliberately pronounced it the correct way. Most of the class snickered and looked at me. I threw open my book and started looking for the answer so that I wouldn't look the Dean's Fellow straight in the eye and laugh at her.
In Criminal Law we watched the clip from Pulp Fiction where John Travolta accidentally blows the head off the kid in the back seat of the car. I laughed out loud when it happened. It may have been inappropriate.
On advice from Shaked I went to Starbucks during lunch and got a pumpkin spice latte. And a pumpkin cream cheese muffin. It must be getting towards Fall, when all the good flavored things come out. Pumpkin pie. Pumpkin beer. But I don't think that pumpkin by itself tastes very good. Hrm. I should see someone about that. It was actually nice to be at Starbucks studying (with Ryan) rather than at school. I was going to say there were fewer stressed-out, pretentious assholes, but it was Starbucks so never mind.
Yesterday in Legal Writing (oh joy) we tangentially touched upon the rule of lenity. The rule of lenity is basically a 'tie goes to the runner' rule. It says that if a statute can be interpreted two ways then it should be interpreted in the way less harmful to the defendant, or if there is ambiguity as to guilt, like you are teetering on the verge of conviction, then the defendant gets off. After class I was trying to make conversation with the professor (whom it is no secret that I do not love) and I asked if he knew the origin of lenity. He told me he thought it was British common law. I responded (yes, I know this is kind of a pretentious thing to do, but I was actually interested and I don't think that having a wide knowledge base or an education is a negative thing) that I know it dates back at least to the Ancient Greeks. In Aeschylus's Orestia, specifically the third play, The Eumenides, Athena establishes the principle of lenity when judging Orestes at trial. So the origin of the rule goes back at least as far as Aeschylus, who I'm assuming didn't make it up himself since he was a playwright. Of course I was blown off, "Oh, yeah? Great. See you next week." That's predictable and I can't actually fault him for it. But I don't think there is one person at school who actually would be interested in it. That is troubling to me. I am definitely realizing that at school, at least this school, if it's not on an exam it probably isn't going to get much attention. That's sad. There should be more to school than exams and vocational training. Well, of course there is: papers. Oh, great.
Today I had the dreaded Legal Research class (aka the worst 55 minutes of the week) with my Dean's Fellow who can't speak proper English for one word only. "Sub-see-quently." Well today (in 3rd grade) one of the activities in class was a competitive game about legal citations where we divided into two teams and had to correctly answer the question. Best part, we all got candy!!! (FALSE, the best part would have been putting in my iPod and running out of the room yelling "You eat poop...suckers!" Too bad this didn't happen.) Well I have shared my thoughts on pronunciation of 'subsequently' with my classmates. And when one of them pulled out a citation question for the game, of course it included the word. So my classmate read the question, came to the word, stopped, and very deliberately pronounced it the correct way. Most of the class snickered and looked at me. I threw open my book and started looking for the answer so that I wouldn't look the Dean's Fellow straight in the eye and laugh at her.
In Criminal Law we watched the clip from Pulp Fiction where John Travolta accidentally blows the head off the kid in the back seat of the car. I laughed out loud when it happened. It may have been inappropriate.
On advice from Shaked I went to Starbucks during lunch and got a pumpkin spice latte. And a pumpkin cream cheese muffin. It must be getting towards Fall, when all the good flavored things come out. Pumpkin pie. Pumpkin beer. But I don't think that pumpkin by itself tastes very good. Hrm. I should see someone about that. It was actually nice to be at Starbucks studying (with Ryan) rather than at school. I was going to say there were fewer stressed-out, pretentious assholes, but it was Starbucks so never mind.
Yesterday in Legal Writing (oh joy) we tangentially touched upon the rule of lenity. The rule of lenity is basically a 'tie goes to the runner' rule. It says that if a statute can be interpreted two ways then it should be interpreted in the way less harmful to the defendant, or if there is ambiguity as to guilt, like you are teetering on the verge of conviction, then the defendant gets off. After class I was trying to make conversation with the professor (whom it is no secret that I do not love) and I asked if he knew the origin of lenity. He told me he thought it was British common law. I responded (yes, I know this is kind of a pretentious thing to do, but I was actually interested and I don't think that having a wide knowledge base or an education is a negative thing) that I know it dates back at least to the Ancient Greeks. In Aeschylus's Orestia, specifically the third play, The Eumenides, Athena establishes the principle of lenity when judging Orestes at trial. So the origin of the rule goes back at least as far as Aeschylus, who I'm assuming didn't make it up himself since he was a playwright. Of course I was blown off, "Oh, yeah? Great. See you next week." That's predictable and I can't actually fault him for it. But I don't think there is one person at school who actually would be interested in it. That is troubling to me. I am definitely realizing that at school, at least this school, if it's not on an exam it probably isn't going to get much attention. That's sad. There should be more to school than exams and vocational training. Well, of course there is: papers. Oh, great.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Subsequently
Something I forgot from the weekend: On Friday night when Matt and I were coming home from the party we emerged from the Metro to the most beautiful sight ever-a 24 hour Krispy Kreme. Best invention ever when you are a little drunk at 2 am. But it got better. We went in, bought one donut each, and scarfed them down. Then we decided that another donut would not be out of order. So we both went back to order more donuts. I think she was charmed by Matt was winking at her (he was actually blinking back his dried up contact lens), but she just handed us the donuts and told us we were all set. What's the only thing better than drunk donuts? Free drunk donuts!
Forgive me if I have told you this already (Erika), but before Civ Pro started today I was talking with some of my classmates. We got onto the topic of the Dean's Fellow, a third year law student who teaches legal research, that a few of us have. I couldn't help but point out that she doesn't know how to pronounce the word "subsequently." She pronounces it by emphasizing the "e" sound so it sounds like sub-see-quently. Those of us who can speak properly know that you emphasize the "sub" syllable. This girl isn't foreign, she's from Maryland. She just doesn't know how to say subsequently. Yet she uses the word constantly. It really irks me and I always want to correct her. But she is essentially my teacher for a class and I don't really think it would be proper to interject with "Um, I'm pretty sure you are pronouncing that wrong." I am thinking about doing the passive-aggressive method where I just say subsequently in every sentence and I pronounce it correctly until she gets the hint. But that is pretty rude also. As it stands every time she says subsequently (read: every 15 seconds) I stop paying attention and look around to see if anyone else in the class thinks her mispronunciation is ridiculous. I hope that she gets a job in a big law firm, is talking to her boss, and says "subseequently." Her boss is going to look at her and think "Oh great, I just hired a retard." Maybe me correcting her will save her from this fate. Maybe it's funnier if I just let it happen. I'm probably just going to continue to be insanely distracted whenever she opens her mouth.
Subsequently, I went to my Contracts professor's office hours. We didn't really talk about anything particularly relevant to the class. I think I started him off with a question about contracts, but it evolved into a discussion about how lawyers don't write well anymore, how the Supreme Court is so politicized, and how baller Justice Brandeis was. Overall it went over a lot better than my discussion with my Torts professor. Of course this time I avoided telling him the subject he teaches is mostly bullshit, so that made life easier. Contracts is actually growing on me, and I think the professor likes me, so that's a definite plus.
Tonight I went to this frozen yogurt place with Anat and Felizia called Mr. Yogurto or something like that. The yogurt was pretty good, they offer a cornucopia of toppings, and they give discounts for trivia questions. I love trivia. And I won 10% off my next yogurt for answering this question: Name 5 countries that end in the letter "L." It took a little while, but I got them. I like the store, it's like challenge yogurt. They have other things you can do to get discounts. One of them was that you would get a free yogurt if you can stand in tip-toes on one foot with your eyes closed for 15 seconds. You can't do it, I promise you. I tried; I failed.
My chin up bar just came in the mail. Out of shape no more. I feel healthier already.
Forgive me if I have told you this already (Erika), but before Civ Pro started today I was talking with some of my classmates. We got onto the topic of the Dean's Fellow, a third year law student who teaches legal research, that a few of us have. I couldn't help but point out that she doesn't know how to pronounce the word "subsequently." She pronounces it by emphasizing the "e" sound so it sounds like sub-see-quently. Those of us who can speak properly know that you emphasize the "sub" syllable. This girl isn't foreign, she's from Maryland. She just doesn't know how to say subsequently. Yet she uses the word constantly. It really irks me and I always want to correct her. But she is essentially my teacher for a class and I don't really think it would be proper to interject with "Um, I'm pretty sure you are pronouncing that wrong." I am thinking about doing the passive-aggressive method where I just say subsequently in every sentence and I pronounce it correctly until she gets the hint. But that is pretty rude also. As it stands every time she says subsequently (read: every 15 seconds) I stop paying attention and look around to see if anyone else in the class thinks her mispronunciation is ridiculous. I hope that she gets a job in a big law firm, is talking to her boss, and says "subseequently." Her boss is going to look at her and think "Oh great, I just hired a retard." Maybe me correcting her will save her from this fate. Maybe it's funnier if I just let it happen. I'm probably just going to continue to be insanely distracted whenever she opens her mouth.
Subsequently, I went to my Contracts professor's office hours. We didn't really talk about anything particularly relevant to the class. I think I started him off with a question about contracts, but it evolved into a discussion about how lawyers don't write well anymore, how the Supreme Court is so politicized, and how baller Justice Brandeis was. Overall it went over a lot better than my discussion with my Torts professor. Of course this time I avoided telling him the subject he teaches is mostly bullshit, so that made life easier. Contracts is actually growing on me, and I think the professor likes me, so that's a definite plus.
Tonight I went to this frozen yogurt place with Anat and Felizia called Mr. Yogurto or something like that. The yogurt was pretty good, they offer a cornucopia of toppings, and they give discounts for trivia questions. I love trivia. And I won 10% off my next yogurt for answering this question: Name 5 countries that end in the letter "L." It took a little while, but I got them. I like the store, it's like challenge yogurt. They have other things you can do to get discounts. One of them was that you would get a free yogurt if you can stand in tip-toes on one foot with your eyes closed for 15 seconds. You can't do it, I promise you. I tried; I failed.
My chin up bar just came in the mail. Out of shape no more. I feel healthier already.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Why Michael? So you can fly away from your feelings?
Matt came to visit this weekend! It was quite exciting. We did a lot of things. Friday afternoon we went the the National Portrait Gallery. It's a crazy place. We saw, amongst other things, the presidential portraits. One of these things is not like the others can you guess which one it is? It's the portrait of George W. Bush. He is the only president whose official portrait does not have him looking at all dignified. George H.W. Bush, Clinton, etc. are all in suits, looking presidential. George W. Bush is sittin' on a sofa in a Western-style light blue shirt looking like he is about to tell hunting stories. He looks more like your Uncle Al than the 43rd President of the United States. I guess that's part of his "folksy" charm. How is he folksy? He went to Yale and Harvard, he's the son of a President and had everything in his life handed to him on a silver platter. I don't understand how that connects him with the common, hard-working American. Matt and I also managed to set off two alarms at the Portrait Gallery. Matt did it first. We were just walking down a hallway and there was a sculpture of an Indian (wah-wah) lying there. The Indian is holding a tomahawk which kind of juts out. Of course Matt walked next to the statue, a little too close to the tomahawk, and set off a loud alarm and jumped about 3 feet in the air. In addition he almost got scalped. The second alarm was my bad. I was looking at some modern "art" (in fairness I think it was a Rauschenberg). It was modern "art" so I clearly didn't understand it, and felt the need to take a closer peek at the little blurb about it. Turns out the security sensor didn't like that one either and it set an alarm off. Matt and I casually strolled away while a security guard (unarmed, no worries) checked out the situation. Things were fine.
That night we watched Arrested ("Here he comes. Here comes John Wayne...") and went to a party in Columbia Heights. It's a little bit of a sketchier area then the one I live in, but it went alright. I only thought we might get mugged once, so all things considered it wasn't a bad walk to the house from the Metro. The party contained an inverse ratio of awkwardness to beer drinking, which resulted in a pretty decent night. Then Saturday morning we went to the zoo. The best part about this zoo visit was the Bird House. One part of the Bird House is this fairly large, enclosed gazebo where a bunch of different birds roam (fly) free. We were looking at some low-energy birds when we heard an odd bird call. It was kind of a warbling sound that ended in a loud honk. And every time I heard the honk I couldn't help but laugh. It sounded like a clown nose or something. Matt and I went towards the noise, with me perpetually bursting into laughter, only to discover that this was not, in fact, all a bird call, rather the first part was a middle-aged woman warbling at a bird, provoking it to make this ridiculous honking sound. This woman was staring straight at the bird practically screaming at it. I'm laughing because of the ridiculous noise, and this woman's daughter (maybe thirty years old?) sees me and gets wicked embarrassed. I would too. Her mom is standing in the National Zoo provoking a honking peacock. She quickly dragged her mother away, but the peacock continued honking for a while and I continued laughing at it. The other animal that sent me into fits of hysterics was the iguana (still in the Bird House, oddly enough). It was just lying there smiling and opening its mouth. And it looked ridiculous. I couldn't get over it. But Matt can't say anything disparaging, the very first animal we saw he fell in love with-the sloth bear. Admittedly it was pretty awesome. He looked like a small bear (small for a bear that is) with an enormous head. Like a mascot costume-sized head. And he was sleeping, but he looked like he could have been dozing off in class. He was sitting upright doing that little nod thing you do before snapping your head up to make it look like you weren't asleep. Matt was in love. And of course people at the zoo were completely retarded again. This time "Look at the bear!!" They were looking at a tamarin monkey, which looks nothing like a bear. Seriously, google image search lion tamarin right now. Does that look like a bear to you? No. Why? Because you aren't a moron. Also, overheard at the lion cage: "There he is!!" (Said while looking at a lion without a mane, therefore clearly not a he.)
Later that day we saw a movie, "In the Loop," which was funny. Particularly if you enjoy watching angry British politicians push the bounds of curse words and insults to new levels. I know I enjoy that. We dined at a fancy Italian restaurant that did not necessarily live up to its fanciness. For one thing my gnocchi was bland and for another the waiter unsuccessfully tried to push dessert on us for twelve minutes. I'm generally not too snobbish-if it's food I'll eat it (unless it's mushrooms)-but this was not a class act.
Speaking of food, I want Friendly's.
Saturday night Matt and I went to Ballston (tee-hee) to watch an improv show. We were greeted by an energetic intern at the theater who insisted on using an terrible British accent the entire time. Even Matt wanted to punch him in the face. This is the guy who, in his improv classes, busts in with the "Agent Michael Scarn! Hands up!" type of shtick. Aside from him, the show was surprisingly good. The troupe was incredibly good at the gibberish guessing game they played. As per usual an audience member thought the funniest suggestion ever was dildo and almost fell off her chair laughing about it. Ha. Ha. Die in a fire. That night we were pretty tired and turned in early. Except that I was woken up at 4:30 in the goddamn morning by the loudest screaming fight I have ever heard in my life taking place right outside my window. I initially thought it was a dream. The only reason that I'm convinced it was not is because my roommate also woke up and we talked about it a few minutes before 5 am. Boy, it's times like that I am glad to be alive. Or not. But I think I was dreaming about Contracts, and I thought this fight was just a contract dispute. I don't actually know what it was about, but I do know that I probably should have called the police. I was actively trying not to listen, so that I could get back to sleep, but I think I heard "You hit me with your stiletto!" Bitches be crazy. Eventually the screaming stopped and I went back to sleep, only to be awoken later (I can't remember if it was 5 or 7 am) by someone's goddamn car stereo playing salsa music INCREDIBLY LOUDLY while at a red light. At least I'm assuming that's what this was, because if it was a traffic light then it was the red light of eternity. Seriously, I think I heard the same stupid song three times before the music died out. I was less than pleased, and that was less than the best night of sleep I have ever had.
Today Matt and I walked to the White House. Boy, it would be cool to work there. Maybe Deputy Chief of Staff? I'd do it. Fantasy world aside, on the Ellipse there were a few hundred Chinese people celebrating something. I have absolutely no idea what though. All I know is there were a lot of people in red shirts with Chinese lettering running around, singing songs, and raising both the Chinese flag and the American flag. I asked Matt, but apparently I was way off in thinking it was Chinese New Year. Like to the point where my ignorance in asking that question may have been slightly offensive. Oh well. So happy Chinese-America Day everyone. Because that's all I could surmise from the celebration. Then, after some pasta lunch, Matt took off to go back home. I miss him, but he's in a better place now. Chicago. After that it's just been work and television for me. I probably forgot some things about the weekend which will pop up later. Oh well. And now off to another week of law school. Whoop-dee-do-da.
That night we watched Arrested ("Here he comes. Here comes John Wayne...") and went to a party in Columbia Heights. It's a little bit of a sketchier area then the one I live in, but it went alright. I only thought we might get mugged once, so all things considered it wasn't a bad walk to the house from the Metro. The party contained an inverse ratio of awkwardness to beer drinking, which resulted in a pretty decent night. Then Saturday morning we went to the zoo. The best part about this zoo visit was the Bird House. One part of the Bird House is this fairly large, enclosed gazebo where a bunch of different birds roam (fly) free. We were looking at some low-energy birds when we heard an odd bird call. It was kind of a warbling sound that ended in a loud honk. And every time I heard the honk I couldn't help but laugh. It sounded like a clown nose or something. Matt and I went towards the noise, with me perpetually bursting into laughter, only to discover that this was not, in fact, all a bird call, rather the first part was a middle-aged woman warbling at a bird, provoking it to make this ridiculous honking sound. This woman was staring straight at the bird practically screaming at it. I'm laughing because of the ridiculous noise, and this woman's daughter (maybe thirty years old?) sees me and gets wicked embarrassed. I would too. Her mom is standing in the National Zoo provoking a honking peacock. She quickly dragged her mother away, but the peacock continued honking for a while and I continued laughing at it. The other animal that sent me into fits of hysterics was the iguana (still in the Bird House, oddly enough). It was just lying there smiling and opening its mouth. And it looked ridiculous. I couldn't get over it. But Matt can't say anything disparaging, the very first animal we saw he fell in love with-the sloth bear. Admittedly it was pretty awesome. He looked like a small bear (small for a bear that is) with an enormous head. Like a mascot costume-sized head. And he was sleeping, but he looked like he could have been dozing off in class. He was sitting upright doing that little nod thing you do before snapping your head up to make it look like you weren't asleep. Matt was in love. And of course people at the zoo were completely retarded again. This time "Look at the bear!!" They were looking at a tamarin monkey, which looks nothing like a bear. Seriously, google image search lion tamarin right now. Does that look like a bear to you? No. Why? Because you aren't a moron. Also, overheard at the lion cage: "There he is!!" (Said while looking at a lion without a mane, therefore clearly not a he.)
Later that day we saw a movie, "In the Loop," which was funny. Particularly if you enjoy watching angry British politicians push the bounds of curse words and insults to new levels. I know I enjoy that. We dined at a fancy Italian restaurant that did not necessarily live up to its fanciness. For one thing my gnocchi was bland and for another the waiter unsuccessfully tried to push dessert on us for twelve minutes. I'm generally not too snobbish-if it's food I'll eat it (unless it's mushrooms)-but this was not a class act.
Speaking of food, I want Friendly's.
Saturday night Matt and I went to Ballston (tee-hee) to watch an improv show. We were greeted by an energetic intern at the theater who insisted on using an terrible British accent the entire time. Even Matt wanted to punch him in the face. This is the guy who, in his improv classes, busts in with the "Agent Michael Scarn! Hands up!" type of shtick. Aside from him, the show was surprisingly good. The troupe was incredibly good at the gibberish guessing game they played. As per usual an audience member thought the funniest suggestion ever was dildo and almost fell off her chair laughing about it. Ha. Ha. Die in a fire. That night we were pretty tired and turned in early. Except that I was woken up at 4:30 in the goddamn morning by the loudest screaming fight I have ever heard in my life taking place right outside my window. I initially thought it was a dream. The only reason that I'm convinced it was not is because my roommate also woke up and we talked about it a few minutes before 5 am. Boy, it's times like that I am glad to be alive. Or not. But I think I was dreaming about Contracts, and I thought this fight was just a contract dispute. I don't actually know what it was about, but I do know that I probably should have called the police. I was actively trying not to listen, so that I could get back to sleep, but I think I heard "You hit me with your stiletto!" Bitches be crazy. Eventually the screaming stopped and I went back to sleep, only to be awoken later (I can't remember if it was 5 or 7 am) by someone's goddamn car stereo playing salsa music INCREDIBLY LOUDLY while at a red light. At least I'm assuming that's what this was, because if it was a traffic light then it was the red light of eternity. Seriously, I think I heard the same stupid song three times before the music died out. I was less than pleased, and that was less than the best night of sleep I have ever had.
Today Matt and I walked to the White House. Boy, it would be cool to work there. Maybe Deputy Chief of Staff? I'd do it. Fantasy world aside, on the Ellipse there were a few hundred Chinese people celebrating something. I have absolutely no idea what though. All I know is there were a lot of people in red shirts with Chinese lettering running around, singing songs, and raising both the Chinese flag and the American flag. I asked Matt, but apparently I was way off in thinking it was Chinese New Year. Like to the point where my ignorance in asking that question may have been slightly offensive. Oh well. So happy Chinese-America Day everyone. Because that's all I could surmise from the celebration. Then, after some pasta lunch, Matt took off to go back home. I miss him, but he's in a better place now. Chicago. After that it's just been work and television for me. I probably forgot some things about the weekend which will pop up later. Oh well. And now off to another week of law school. Whoop-dee-do-da.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Movie clips
There is something to be said for using movie clips in class. It's a fun way to learn. But I think the last time I remember using a movie clip in class for a legitimate reason was in high school. And the word legitimate is pushing it. Yet my Criminal Law professor effectively used movie clips to help us learn. Another way law school = high school. We are learning about homicide. We watched about five minutes of Goodfellas, during which three homicides or potential homicides took place. That's pretty light for that particular movie. My professor asked us to use the fact patterns from the clips to determine whether they should be charged for murder or manslaughter and what degree they should be charged with. We all had a good time convicting movie stars of murder and arguing about premeditation, malice aforethought and all types of Law and Order words. The entire time we had two potential students sitting in on class. They must have been thinking "This is awesome!" I would love for them to sit in on a Contracts class and hear their inner monologue after that. Probably more along the lines of "I wonder if I would be enjoying life more at the moment if I stabbed myself in the hand with a pen."
Today I went to my Torts professor's office hours. He talked to me about how he found a mistake in the transcription of one of Thomas Jefferson's letters which changed the meaning, and that this particular sentece was important in the history of patent law. Hey man, whatever gets your going in the morning. I just went to talk with him in general about torts, but somehow it came out that I disagree with about 60% of the decisions we read. He was astounded. I probably shouldn't have said that. He's probably not prone to liking me as it is (read: he clerked for Justices Scalia and Kennedy (read: he's a huge conservative)) (yeah I just used double parentheses, what of it??), and the fact that I just told him the subject he teaches is about 60% full of crap is not likely to endear me to him any further. I hope he's the kind of teacher who doesn't care about your opinion as long as you can back it up well. Because I'm going to write that almost no one is liable for anything ever. I look at torts as the area of law where people who can't take responsibilty for themselves gain a legal advantage. Though there are some cool cases-take a defense of property case we read for today. This guy knows that people have been breaking into a house he owns where he just stores things. So he sets up a shotgun trap at leg level so anyone who opens the door will get shot in the legs. Sure enough a burglar comes in and gets shot in the knees. He gets a $50 fine and probation or something like that for burglary, and he sues the owner of the house and gets $35,ooo in damages for battery. When asked to comment on the outcome the owner said "Next time I'll aim it higher."
Today I went to my Torts professor's office hours. He talked to me about how he found a mistake in the transcription of one of Thomas Jefferson's letters which changed the meaning, and that this particular sentece was important in the history of patent law. Hey man, whatever gets your going in the morning. I just went to talk with him in general about torts, but somehow it came out that I disagree with about 60% of the decisions we read. He was astounded. I probably shouldn't have said that. He's probably not prone to liking me as it is (read: he clerked for Justices Scalia and Kennedy (read: he's a huge conservative)) (yeah I just used double parentheses, what of it??), and the fact that I just told him the subject he teaches is about 60% full of crap is not likely to endear me to him any further. I hope he's the kind of teacher who doesn't care about your opinion as long as you can back it up well. Because I'm going to write that almost no one is liable for anything ever. I look at torts as the area of law where people who can't take responsibilty for themselves gain a legal advantage. Though there are some cool cases-take a defense of property case we read for today. This guy knows that people have been breaking into a house he owns where he just stores things. So he sets up a shotgun trap at leg level so anyone who opens the door will get shot in the legs. Sure enough a burglar comes in and gets shot in the knees. He gets a $50 fine and probation or something like that for burglary, and he sues the owner of the house and gets $35,ooo in damages for battery. When asked to comment on the outcome the owner said "Next time I'll aim it higher."
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Synagogue, stupid
Today in Contracts we were discussing a case about a man who promises his rabbi to give his synagogue $25,000. It's a case about promissory estoppel in the case of gifts and charities. If you don't know what that means, don't worry, neither does half my class. The details of the case aren't relevant except what I already said. The student who was called on to discuss the case talked about the "church" that the donation was supposed to go to. My professor responded, using the word "synagogue," because, after all, the case is about a synagogue. When asked another question the student said church again, and again the professor used synagogue. It was kind of weird. At lunch I talked with someone else in the class who brought this up and said that he thought it was sort of anti-Semitic. While I'm not sure it was actually anti-Semitic, I thought it was odd, and certainly had some odd undertones. I don't want to be oversensitive and throw out allegations of prejudice all willy-nilly. But something was off. I'm not saying this kid was definitely anti-Semitic, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. He could just be stupid. I was going to say he could also be incredibly ignorant, but even an ignorant non-stupid person would pick up that he should be saying "synagogue" through context clues slash when the professor repeats the word numerous times and the case you read says it and the word "church" is nowhere to be found. So I have at least one bigot or one moron in my class. I'm not sure which I'm hoping he is. Probably stupid.
Gunner update that I forgot from yesterday: We were talking about sports torts in relation to Serena Williams...so basically trash talking. Gunner raises his hand and says, "When I played high school football trash talking was pretty regular. We'd all line up and say things to the other people, like I'm gonna...hurt you..." 99% of the people in the room (including the professor I'm pretty sure) rolled their eyes after the first six words and tuned out. It should also be noted that Gunner is probably 5'5", 145 pounds, and generally not in incredible shape. And if he lined up against any regular sized football lineman, even in high school, would get absolutely wrecked. He's also a Mormon, which leads me to believe any trash talking he may have participated in was ridiculous: "You haven't baptized your ancestors so you won't be able to be with them in heaven...chump." (Note: that's a real thing that Mormons think minus the chump comment. I'm not making it up as a ridiculous example.) His story is thrown into even more doubt because I was told that he was home schooled. So he might have been trash talking his mom in that high school football game.
Today I reached that point in the week where I was not going to do any more work. In fact, I did not want to sit in class anymore. This happened 15 minutes before the end of my last, and forth, class today. I started shaking my leg and wigging out. The seconds dragged by. The dean's fellow droned on. I checked my email 15 times in 4 minutes. One time I actually got something! It was awful. Particularly since I'm used to this happening on Thursday evening, not Wednesday afternoon. Bad news man. I hope next week it doesn't move up to Tuesday. Then we'll really have problems.
Gunner update that I forgot from yesterday: We were talking about sports torts in relation to Serena Williams...so basically trash talking. Gunner raises his hand and says, "When I played high school football trash talking was pretty regular. We'd all line up and say things to the other people, like I'm gonna...hurt you..." 99% of the people in the room (including the professor I'm pretty sure) rolled their eyes after the first six words and tuned out. It should also be noted that Gunner is probably 5'5", 145 pounds, and generally not in incredible shape. And if he lined up against any regular sized football lineman, even in high school, would get absolutely wrecked. He's also a Mormon, which leads me to believe any trash talking he may have participated in was ridiculous: "You haven't baptized your ancestors so you won't be able to be with them in heaven...chump." (Note: that's a real thing that Mormons think minus the chump comment. I'm not making it up as a ridiculous example.) His story is thrown into even more doubt because I was told that he was home schooled. So he might have been trash talking his mom in that high school football game.
Today I reached that point in the week where I was not going to do any more work. In fact, I did not want to sit in class anymore. This happened 15 minutes before the end of my last, and forth, class today. I started shaking my leg and wigging out. The seconds dragged by. The dean's fellow droned on. I checked my email 15 times in 4 minutes. One time I actually got something! It was awful. Particularly since I'm used to this happening on Thursday evening, not Wednesday afternoon. Bad news man. I hope next week it doesn't move up to Tuesday. Then we'll really have problems.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Make something up man
8:21 - I arrive at the classroom for Legal Writing
8:27 - My entire class is assembled
8:30 - Class officially begins
8:39 - My professor arrives
The first thing that happened on the first day of this class was that we were warned about the attendance policy and told that tardiness would not be tolerated. The message really lost it's force today. The professor (who is a lawyer from the DC area, not a real professor) explained that he was late "Because he had to choose between being on time and getting coffee." Everyone immediately looked from the 20 oz. coffee cup in his hand to the clock on the wall. Or at least I did. Thanks for the honesty. But as one of my classmates commented before our next class, "Make something up man. Tell us the metro was late or something." It's not the best feeling being told your time was less important than coffee. If you need your coffee that badly then wake your lazy ass up 9 minutes earlier. In the meantime, if I am ever late for that class I'm not taking crap from him about it. Also, thanks to this professor for stressing everyone in the class out. He constantly talks about working in a big firm (it's all he knows) and tells us that when we work in a firm it will be important to know how to do x. No pressure to go into a firm though. Jackass. It just makes everyone nervous that they don't know how to write the way we should, never mind the fact that we haven't been taught how to yet.
In Torts, we talking about causes of action in the athletic field, or as I deem it, sports torts. Our conversation mostly focused on Serena Williams' recent actions at the US Open. Did the line judge have a cause of action for assault? I say no; but there is an argument to be made for it. I realized today that I disagree with about 75% of the tort cases we read. People sue about stupid things that mostly result from them being incompetent. They need to take responsibility for themselves and quit whining when they are dumb or they do dumb things. Some 13 year old girl sued a 15 year old boy for injuries sustained during a game of kick the can. No joke. I had to read a court opinion that gave the basic rules of kick the can. Thankfully the court found against the girl and with good reason. If every backyard injury were actionable no one would ever play outside. We'd have generations of children who's exercise consisted of Wii Fit.
When I left school to walk home I walked passed about 7 sororities doing something inane on the quad. I'm not really sure what was going on, but each sorority was wearing matching t-shirts, shouting unintelligible cheers, and holding up Greek letters. They could have been recruiting, or having a dumb-looking-slut competition. I'm not quite sure. But I walked by wearing my Duke Lacrosse shirt and felt awkward.
Dinner was at a deli with Rachel, Gavi, and one of her friends. All four of us ordered pastrami on rye. Know why? Because we know what's up. If you order it on white bread you get kicked out of the restaurant. Though I don't appreciate being told that pastrami and corned beef are both "pickled meats." I don't want to think about anything being pickled, except pickles. While I'm not sure exactly what the process entails, it does not sound pleasant. In my imagination they just drop the pieces of meat into a gigantic pickle jar and fish it out a week later. Ew. Pickles are fine. Pickle juice is not a pleasant substance.
8:27 - My entire class is assembled
8:30 - Class officially begins
8:39 - My professor arrives
The first thing that happened on the first day of this class was that we were warned about the attendance policy and told that tardiness would not be tolerated. The message really lost it's force today. The professor (who is a lawyer from the DC area, not a real professor) explained that he was late "Because he had to choose between being on time and getting coffee." Everyone immediately looked from the 20 oz. coffee cup in his hand to the clock on the wall. Or at least I did. Thanks for the honesty. But as one of my classmates commented before our next class, "Make something up man. Tell us the metro was late or something." It's not the best feeling being told your time was less important than coffee. If you need your coffee that badly then wake your lazy ass up 9 minutes earlier. In the meantime, if I am ever late for that class I'm not taking crap from him about it. Also, thanks to this professor for stressing everyone in the class out. He constantly talks about working in a big firm (it's all he knows) and tells us that when we work in a firm it will be important to know how to do x. No pressure to go into a firm though. Jackass. It just makes everyone nervous that they don't know how to write the way we should, never mind the fact that we haven't been taught how to yet.
In Torts, we talking about causes of action in the athletic field, or as I deem it, sports torts. Our conversation mostly focused on Serena Williams' recent actions at the US Open. Did the line judge have a cause of action for assault? I say no; but there is an argument to be made for it. I realized today that I disagree with about 75% of the tort cases we read. People sue about stupid things that mostly result from them being incompetent. They need to take responsibility for themselves and quit whining when they are dumb or they do dumb things. Some 13 year old girl sued a 15 year old boy for injuries sustained during a game of kick the can. No joke. I had to read a court opinion that gave the basic rules of kick the can. Thankfully the court found against the girl and with good reason. If every backyard injury were actionable no one would ever play outside. We'd have generations of children who's exercise consisted of Wii Fit.
When I left school to walk home I walked passed about 7 sororities doing something inane on the quad. I'm not really sure what was going on, but each sorority was wearing matching t-shirts, shouting unintelligible cheers, and holding up Greek letters. They could have been recruiting, or having a dumb-looking-slut competition. I'm not quite sure. But I walked by wearing my Duke Lacrosse shirt and felt awkward.
Dinner was at a deli with Rachel, Gavi, and one of her friends. All four of us ordered pastrami on rye. Know why? Because we know what's up. If you order it on white bread you get kicked out of the restaurant. Though I don't appreciate being told that pastrami and corned beef are both "pickled meats." I don't want to think about anything being pickled, except pickles. While I'm not sure exactly what the process entails, it does not sound pleasant. In my imagination they just drop the pieces of meat into a gigantic pickle jar and fish it out a week later. Ew. Pickles are fine. Pickle juice is not a pleasant substance.
Monday, September 14, 2009
I am currently wet
I am brilliant. I just refilled the Brita, and then, without waiting for the water to filter, attempted to pour a glass of water for myself. All I wanted to do was quench my thirst, but I ended up spilling water all over the kitchen and myself. That's when I know to call it a day. I closed my Criminal Law book, utilized the paper towels, and retired to my room.
At least this Monday was better. Much better. Though still not fantastic. But relative to all recent Mondays it was good, so I'm cautiously optimistic. Even though the first thing I did today was irksome: calling an automated answering service. I had to talk to Bank of America about some crap they pulled on me. And I haven't had time during regular business hours recently, so I called this morning a little before 9. Yes, a little before 9 is when I wake up; most days it is 8:30 (except tomorrow when it's an hour earlier). That's wicked early for people still in college, and wicked late for people who have regular jobs. Clearly I am in grad school. Everyone hates "If you have a question regarding your account, please press 1. If you have a question regarding your credit card, please press 2. If you have a question about how to defraud the public and receive billions of dollars of taxpayer money, please hold for the CEO..." and so forth. But Bank of America is so much worse at least for 9 in the morning. Not only did I have to press numbers, I also had to speak to the automated voice in order to affirm that the number I just pressed was in fact the one I meant to press. The result of this system was that my first words of the morning/week (weeks start on Monday, let's not kid ourselves) were said to a computer that had a difficult time understanding that I said "yes" rather than "no." It's not like they sound at all similar. Whatever. I ended up convincing a testy-sounding Bank of America employee to give me my $35 back, so I began the day with a small victory. My bigger victory was plane tickets to Boston in October. I'm pumped. Now let's get on with it September. I don't think anyone likes September. If September were a kid in elementary school he would be the one who wore khakis and hated recess. Get a life. Come on October. October is the cool kid who played dice in the alley. Maybe not, since I don't think I've ever seen anyone play dice the in alley outside of the musical Guys and Dolls.
I've pretty much given up on paying attention in Contracts. The professor is quite nice, though a bit dull. He reminds me of a less famous, less amusing Ben Stein. But from now on from 11-11:55 three days a week I'll probably be on G-Chat. It's much more rewarding than listening to my professor drone on about cases we read a week and a half ago. No kidding. The reading is about a chapter ahead of the class discussion. Weak dude. It gets hard to remember so far back. I hope it doesn't get to an "Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin and that's all I remember about that" type of scenario.
The Geico commercials that have the money with the eyes and the techno song are hilarious. I love the one at the Chinese restaurant. So random. Also the guy who puts the pastry lid over it. Whatever advertising agency thought that up is genius.
And now: Kanye West. Apparently he had an incident with Taylor Swift at the VMA's. My reaction is who watches the VMA's anymore? I was sort of under the impression that music videos died out, especially on MTV. I thought the network just showed immature reality shows these days. Not like the good ol' middle school days of TRL with Carson Daily that I had to watch at a friend's house because I didn't have cable. Most music videos now are promulgated by Youtube, I'd expect. So who cares what happens at an MTV event? I'm glad this drew Joe Wilson comparisons by the way, because the award show of a has-been television channel is about on par with a presidential address to a joint session of Congress in the House Chamber on an issue concerning the immediate well-being of millions of Americans. Kanye West is only influential if you let him be, and everyone is letting him. He knows it, so it's just funny to watch. Although this is nowhere near as amusing as "George Bush doesn't care about black people" (the look on Mike Myers face was priceless). Taylor Swift had it coming; she didn't know what the midwest is. Also, the VMA's used to be crazy talk. Remember when Red Hot Chili Peppers played practically naked? Remember when the bassist from Rage Against the Machine climbed up on the statue because he was pissed that Limp Bizkit won the award for best rock video and security couldn't get him down? That stuff used to happen all the time. I'm just not shocked. I'm not saying what Kanye did was polite, but really it shouldn't be national news. Now I'm waiting for 15 references to this event on Kanye's next album. "Everyone hatin' on Kanye West/Just because I told Taylor she ain't the best..." He'll do it better, I promise. But that's why he's the professional rapper round here.
At least this Monday was better. Much better. Though still not fantastic. But relative to all recent Mondays it was good, so I'm cautiously optimistic. Even though the first thing I did today was irksome: calling an automated answering service. I had to talk to Bank of America about some crap they pulled on me. And I haven't had time during regular business hours recently, so I called this morning a little before 9. Yes, a little before 9 is when I wake up; most days it is 8:30 (except tomorrow when it's an hour earlier). That's wicked early for people still in college, and wicked late for people who have regular jobs. Clearly I am in grad school. Everyone hates "If you have a question regarding your account, please press 1. If you have a question regarding your credit card, please press 2. If you have a question about how to defraud the public and receive billions of dollars of taxpayer money, please hold for the CEO..." and so forth. But Bank of America is so much worse at least for 9 in the morning. Not only did I have to press numbers, I also had to speak to the automated voice in order to affirm that the number I just pressed was in fact the one I meant to press. The result of this system was that my first words of the morning/week (weeks start on Monday, let's not kid ourselves) were said to a computer that had a difficult time understanding that I said "yes" rather than "no." It's not like they sound at all similar. Whatever. I ended up convincing a testy-sounding Bank of America employee to give me my $35 back, so I began the day with a small victory. My bigger victory was plane tickets to Boston in October. I'm pumped. Now let's get on with it September. I don't think anyone likes September. If September were a kid in elementary school he would be the one who wore khakis and hated recess. Get a life. Come on October. October is the cool kid who played dice in the alley. Maybe not, since I don't think I've ever seen anyone play dice the in alley outside of the musical Guys and Dolls.
I've pretty much given up on paying attention in Contracts. The professor is quite nice, though a bit dull. He reminds me of a less famous, less amusing Ben Stein. But from now on from 11-11:55 three days a week I'll probably be on G-Chat. It's much more rewarding than listening to my professor drone on about cases we read a week and a half ago. No kidding. The reading is about a chapter ahead of the class discussion. Weak dude. It gets hard to remember so far back. I hope it doesn't get to an "Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin and that's all I remember about that" type of scenario.
The Geico commercials that have the money with the eyes and the techno song are hilarious. I love the one at the Chinese restaurant. So random. Also the guy who puts the pastry lid over it. Whatever advertising agency thought that up is genius.
And now: Kanye West. Apparently he had an incident with Taylor Swift at the VMA's. My reaction is who watches the VMA's anymore? I was sort of under the impression that music videos died out, especially on MTV. I thought the network just showed immature reality shows these days. Not like the good ol' middle school days of TRL with Carson Daily that I had to watch at a friend's house because I didn't have cable. Most music videos now are promulgated by Youtube, I'd expect. So who cares what happens at an MTV event? I'm glad this drew Joe Wilson comparisons by the way, because the award show of a has-been television channel is about on par with a presidential address to a joint session of Congress in the House Chamber on an issue concerning the immediate well-being of millions of Americans. Kanye West is only influential if you let him be, and everyone is letting him. He knows it, so it's just funny to watch. Although this is nowhere near as amusing as "George Bush doesn't care about black people" (the look on Mike Myers face was priceless). Taylor Swift had it coming; she didn't know what the midwest is. Also, the VMA's used to be crazy talk. Remember when Red Hot Chili Peppers played practically naked? Remember when the bassist from Rage Against the Machine climbed up on the statue because he was pissed that Limp Bizkit won the award for best rock video and security couldn't get him down? That stuff used to happen all the time. I'm just not shocked. I'm not saying what Kanye did was polite, but really it shouldn't be national news. Now I'm waiting for 15 references to this event on Kanye's next album. "Everyone hatin' on Kanye West/Just because I told Taylor she ain't the best..." He'll do it better, I promise. But that's why he's the professional rapper round here.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
W(h)ine
This weekend was varied. Nakul came to visit Friday night, which was very nice of him. Mostly we just hung out, but let's not forget the hour and a half we spent at my roommate's friend's apartment with an awkward mix of people. The apartment itself was really nice. I mean really nice. I mean the people who live there must have help from mommy and daddy. As for the people, there were some people who I knew who it was good to see. But there were lots of people who I didn't know who it was not particularly good to see (meet). The first girl I was talking to was also from Newton and, despite explaining it twice, did not grasp how Nakul and I knew each other since we did not go to college together. Then she asked me where I was from again and I had to remind her that it was her hometown too. At this point I was pretty much done talking to this girl, gave curt responses, and angled my body away from her. But she somehow took this as a signal to keep talking to me. Thankfully she wandered away. Soon more people I didn't know arrived. I would like to make it clear I do not have a problem with foreigners. But have you ever noticed how all men from foreign countries dress exactly the same? They all wear two hundred dollar jeans, a button down shirt with the top 4 buttons undone, and no undershirt. They do this weather or not they have a forrest of chest hair or their chest looks like a seven year old's. I do not understand why buttoning your shirt and/or wearing an undershirt never happens. Is it against the culture of the rest of the world? I'm growing to think it might be. Well all of the people at the apartment eventually, around midnight, decided they wanted to go out. This inevitably meant someplace with music too loud to talk over where drinks would cost more than $4, so I decided not to go. Instead I gave Nakul stir fry and went to sleep.
Saturday morning I went to softball with the law school's softball club. It was an enjoyable pick-up game with a wide array of skill levels, from people who struggled to make contact with the ball to people who played division 1 baseball in college. My hitting certainly is not the best anymore, but in my defense I haven't really practiced since I was thirteen. My defensive instincts, however, are still sharp. It's no big deal, but I made a couple of good plays in the field. Softball is every weekend, so I hope to return and hone my skills.
I ate a pasta bread bowl from Domino's. It was delicious, but it almost killed me. I was so fat and lethargic after it, I barely made it home. I'm pretty sure if you eat more than one a month you'll die. So be warned.
Today I went with Rebecca to Monticello. If you don't remember elementary school, that's Thomas Jefferson's estate. If you don't remember anything you've ever learned, that's the third President of the United States. (The first two were George Washington Carver and Sam Adams if I'm not mistaken.) Monticello is beautiful. It's also in the middle of nowhere, so it was a hefty drive to the middle of Virginia that occurred today. Apparently Jefferson was a botanist just for funsies, and there are tons of flowers and over 300 types of crops growing in the garden. I was actually pretty uncomfortable for a while there because it was so nice mostly because of slaves. I had and am still having a hard time seeing the man who wrote "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal..." as a slave holder. It is incomprehensible to me that someone so smart and so progressive could be so hypocritical. Sad really. But it was really nice to get out of the city and to remember that there are...I don't know, trees and hills, and that not everyone in the world comes with a blackberry glued to their ear.
Apparently Virginia is wine country. There are a bunch of vineyards in central Virginia. Who knew? We went to a vineyard and did a little wine tasting. I think we tried 11 wines - 1 rose, 3 white, 6 red, and 2 dessert. I would say that 6 of them were awful, 3 were ok, and 2 were good. I am not a wine snob. I don't know much about wine. I basically know what I like and what I don't like. Here's something I don't like: a Cabernet that tastes like wine-water. In fact I don't think anyone likes that. But that didn't discourage this vineyard from making it. Apparently there is some market for it in Virginia. So people like bad things, what else is new? This was my first wine tasting ever, and I did end up buying a bottle to commemorate it. But wine tastings make you act like an elitist jerk apparently. I had the urge to comment on the "bouquet" and the "mouthfeel" of the wine. I'm pretty sure I have never felt the need to discuss either of these things before. In fact I usually just drink the wine and don't make pretentious comments Then again, I'm not sure anyone is checking out the bouquet of Franzia.
On the drive home I saw a restaurant advertisement that said, in big red letters, "WE HAVE CRABS."
Saturday morning I went to softball with the law school's softball club. It was an enjoyable pick-up game with a wide array of skill levels, from people who struggled to make contact with the ball to people who played division 1 baseball in college. My hitting certainly is not the best anymore, but in my defense I haven't really practiced since I was thirteen. My defensive instincts, however, are still sharp. It's no big deal, but I made a couple of good plays in the field. Softball is every weekend, so I hope to return and hone my skills.
I ate a pasta bread bowl from Domino's. It was delicious, but it almost killed me. I was so fat and lethargic after it, I barely made it home. I'm pretty sure if you eat more than one a month you'll die. So be warned.
Today I went with Rebecca to Monticello. If you don't remember elementary school, that's Thomas Jefferson's estate. If you don't remember anything you've ever learned, that's the third President of the United States. (The first two were George Washington Carver and Sam Adams if I'm not mistaken.) Monticello is beautiful. It's also in the middle of nowhere, so it was a hefty drive to the middle of Virginia that occurred today. Apparently Jefferson was a botanist just for funsies, and there are tons of flowers and over 300 types of crops growing in the garden. I was actually pretty uncomfortable for a while there because it was so nice mostly because of slaves. I had and am still having a hard time seeing the man who wrote "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal..." as a slave holder. It is incomprehensible to me that someone so smart and so progressive could be so hypocritical. Sad really. But it was really nice to get out of the city and to remember that there are...I don't know, trees and hills, and that not everyone in the world comes with a blackberry glued to their ear.
Apparently Virginia is wine country. There are a bunch of vineyards in central Virginia. Who knew? We went to a vineyard and did a little wine tasting. I think we tried 11 wines - 1 rose, 3 white, 6 red, and 2 dessert. I would say that 6 of them were awful, 3 were ok, and 2 were good. I am not a wine snob. I don't know much about wine. I basically know what I like and what I don't like. Here's something I don't like: a Cabernet that tastes like wine-water. In fact I don't think anyone likes that. But that didn't discourage this vineyard from making it. Apparently there is some market for it in Virginia. So people like bad things, what else is new? This was my first wine tasting ever, and I did end up buying a bottle to commemorate it. But wine tastings make you act like an elitist jerk apparently. I had the urge to comment on the "bouquet" and the "mouthfeel" of the wine. I'm pretty sure I have never felt the need to discuss either of these things before. In fact I usually just drink the wine and don't make pretentious comments Then again, I'm not sure anyone is checking out the bouquet of Franzia.
On the drive home I saw a restaurant advertisement that said, in big red letters, "WE HAVE CRABS."
Friday, September 11, 2009
Mutant Law School
Once again I find myself incredibly thankful it is Friday. I think this year at Thanksgiving I am going to be thankful for Fridays. I will not, however, be thankful for Thanksgiving. Apparently one side my family (which I usually like) has confused Thanksgiving for Family Reunion Week. I have always considered Thanksgiving a time to relax, eat turkey, and get a cold. This year Thanksgiving will be a four day marathon reunion at some hotel in Crapville, NY, 2-4 hours away from anywhere I want to be. I wanted to go to my own house, see my friends in the area, and generally chill out. Instead, I will be chilling in a different way: freezing my ass off with my extended family in upstate New York. Sweet! I'm considering mounting a rebellion and refusing to go. We'll see how this all turns out.
I think it would be cool to be a musketeer. I'd totally drop this law school business if that were an option. I'm considering re-watching that movie with Keifer Sutherland, Oliver Platt, and Charlie Sheen as a practical alternative. Those are three actors who have had divergent careers since that movie.
I decided that law school would be a lot more fun if it were mutant law school. Or at least our professors used analogies that included X-Men. "What can I be charged with if I shoot Kitty Pryde, but she phases through the bullet and is unharmed?" "What about if I shoot Wolverine, but he's alright because of his healing factor? Is that assault? Is it a deadly weapon if it can't kill him because of his mutant powers?" "What if Professor X uses telepathy to make me shoot someone, as I responsible then?" The possibilities are endless. I'm sure the laws would get a little more complicated too. But I certainly would pay more attention this way.
There is a tort called trespass to chattels. It is when someone damages another's real (non-land) property. Discussing this with my classmates I inadvertently said "I'll trespass all over your chattels." That sounds dirty. One of my classmates told me she couldn't think about it without laughing. I told her to get her mind out of the gutter.
Last night Sadie and Jess stayed at my apartment. They are driving to Texas. It's kind of unclear why that's a good idea. But it was good to see them. We went to happy hour at a bar called Front Page. Thursday night, apparently, is taco night. It was quite the fiesta. In addition to $2 Coronas (a good deal for far from my favorite beer) and half priced (read: now moderately priced) appetizers, they offered tacos 3 for $1. I don't think you are going to find a better deal than that anywhere. Not even in Mexico, where tacos are plentiful and are harvested year round (I've been told by good authorities). The only thing that made tacos better was the realization that for $20 I could buy 60 tacos!!! That's a crazy amount of tacos...like unbelievable. Some masochistic Thursday night I'm going to do it. It'll be my own episode of Man vs. Food, which I've never seen.
I think it would be cool to be a musketeer. I'd totally drop this law school business if that were an option. I'm considering re-watching that movie with Keifer Sutherland, Oliver Platt, and Charlie Sheen as a practical alternative. Those are three actors who have had divergent careers since that movie.
I decided that law school would be a lot more fun if it were mutant law school. Or at least our professors used analogies that included X-Men. "What can I be charged with if I shoot Kitty Pryde, but she phases through the bullet and is unharmed?" "What about if I shoot Wolverine, but he's alright because of his healing factor? Is that assault? Is it a deadly weapon if it can't kill him because of his mutant powers?" "What if Professor X uses telepathy to make me shoot someone, as I responsible then?" The possibilities are endless. I'm sure the laws would get a little more complicated too. But I certainly would pay more attention this way.
There is a tort called trespass to chattels. It is when someone damages another's real (non-land) property. Discussing this with my classmates I inadvertently said "I'll trespass all over your chattels." That sounds dirty. One of my classmates told me she couldn't think about it without laughing. I told her to get her mind out of the gutter.
Last night Sadie and Jess stayed at my apartment. They are driving to Texas. It's kind of unclear why that's a good idea. But it was good to see them. We went to happy hour at a bar called Front Page. Thursday night, apparently, is taco night. It was quite the fiesta. In addition to $2 Coronas (a good deal for far from my favorite beer) and half priced (read: now moderately priced) appetizers, they offered tacos 3 for $1. I don't think you are going to find a better deal than that anywhere. Not even in Mexico, where tacos are plentiful and are harvested year round (I've been told by good authorities). The only thing that made tacos better was the realization that for $20 I could buy 60 tacos!!! That's a crazy amount of tacos...like unbelievable. Some masochistic Thursday night I'm going to do it. It'll be my own episode of Man vs. Food, which I've never seen.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Tort reform
Yesterday I learned that doing law school reading is a lot harder than college reading after you have had a beer or two. I was hanging out with Erik in the early evening, and still had to try to get some work done after. But I just couldn't bring myself to care about strict liability according to the Model Penal Code. I ended up doing that thing where you actually read every word on the page, but you don't really comprehend any of it. Better hope I don't end up as a criminal defense lawyer representing you in a strict liability case. And you also had better hope I haven't subsequently become illiterate so that I can't go back and read the relevant sections before I argue the case. That's right, you'd better hope you don't have an illiterate lawyer. Unless he's super charismatic. For example, I would take an illiterate Barack Obama to be my lawyer.
Speaking of Mr. Obama, he just delivered his address to Congress on health care reform. Sounded pretty good to me. But I'm from Massachusetts where everyone already has health care. We're kind of like Cuba, with less Spanish and communism. I liked most of what the president said. He held out some olive branches to Republicans. Like tort reform. But I was mostly excited about that because I now know what that means! Basically, in this context, it's harder to sue doctors. Sounds cool, but it's not actually. I was also distracted by the editor's choice of camera shots a good deal of the time. Why do you have to show a member of Congress looking at his Blackberry rather than paying attention to the leader of the free world? It's not very nice. But then again its not very nice to ignore a public speaker. Or to shout out "You lie!" in the Chamber of Congress while the President of the United States is giving a speech (I'm looking at you Congressman Joe Wilson of South Carolina!).
I just saw an ad on TV: "West Virginia, wild and wonderful!" I would like to add "with your cousin" to the end of it. Just kidding, I don't know anyone from West Virginia. I'm just going by what I've seen on t-shirts. And heinous New England stereotypes. But that's my favorite kind of stereotype. It's the kind where anyone who isn't from New England is inferior and if you aren't from New York or California either you must be mentally deficient. Hell, you can even be mentally deficient if you are from New York or California. The rest of the country is all either the midwest or the south. We've never heard of things like the Pacific Northwest. It's a figment of your imagination. Like the moon landing.
Speaking of Mr. Obama, he just delivered his address to Congress on health care reform. Sounded pretty good to me. But I'm from Massachusetts where everyone already has health care. We're kind of like Cuba, with less Spanish and communism. I liked most of what the president said. He held out some olive branches to Republicans. Like tort reform. But I was mostly excited about that because I now know what that means! Basically, in this context, it's harder to sue doctors. Sounds cool, but it's not actually. I was also distracted by the editor's choice of camera shots a good deal of the time. Why do you have to show a member of Congress looking at his Blackberry rather than paying attention to the leader of the free world? It's not very nice. But then again its not very nice to ignore a public speaker. Or to shout out "You lie!" in the Chamber of Congress while the President of the United States is giving a speech (I'm looking at you Congressman Joe Wilson of South Carolina!).
I just saw an ad on TV: "West Virginia, wild and wonderful!" I would like to add "with your cousin" to the end of it. Just kidding, I don't know anyone from West Virginia. I'm just going by what I've seen on t-shirts. And heinous New England stereotypes. But that's my favorite kind of stereotype. It's the kind where anyone who isn't from New England is inferior and if you aren't from New York or California either you must be mentally deficient. Hell, you can even be mentally deficient if you are from New York or California. The rest of the country is all either the midwest or the south. We've never heard of things like the Pacific Northwest. It's a figment of your imagination. Like the moon landing.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Crickets
I would like you to play a game of cricket against me. You don't know the rules? Don't worry about it. You have a bat and a ball. Let's play. Oh, you are super bad at cricket and just about everything you did was wrong. What a surprise! Now that we've played, I'll explain to you what the rules are and what you did wrong and why you suck.
I don't know shit about playing cricket. I know it's the retarded cousin of baseball that you are supposed to play wile wearing a sweatervest, but that's it. That's about how much I know about legal writing. But that didn't stop the curriculum of my Legal Research and Writing class from forcing me to write a legal analysis over the weekend. I did it with no good instructions. That is to say the only instructions I have are from a poorly written and even worse edited book on legal writing that could put an OCD speed freak to sleep. Whenever I open the book my eyes glaze over and my brain digs a a moat around it to prevent any information from getting in. With that fantastic resource I was more than ready to write my legal analysis. Of course today, the day it is due, we discussed how to write a legal analysis in class. Thanks. That's really helpful. Now I know what I was supposed to do and that I did everything wrong. Way to boost the ol' self esteem. But, not to be deterred, I have received another assignment: a specific type of legal memo that we, once again, have not been instructed how to create by any comprehensible source. I'm ready, let's play some cricket.
A girl in my class is going to run for section senator. I have no idea of what kind of budget is at the disposal of whatever governing committee she would sit on if she wins, so I naturally wanted to be her campaign manager. I advised her that she should start making campaign promises. She will dedicate a refrigerator solely to our section so that we have adequate room to keep our lunches in them. She will also build Jurassic Park outside in the university quad. Like I said, I have no idea of the budget. It's a bunch of lawyers running the show, so I assume they are rich. Perhaps that is unreasonable of me. She declined my offer to run her campaign.
Apparently there are a lot of Red Sox haters here. I have had to defend my team, and my city, on at least three separate occasions since moving to DC. Once was against a Chicago White Sox fan. Really? The White Sox now have beef with Boston? That's just dumb, they aren't even in our division. They have no one to blame but themselves for their own gross incompetence at running a baseball team. Don't try to infringe on the best rivalry in sports, White Sox. Stay in Chicago and cry into your soup.
I don't know shit about playing cricket. I know it's the retarded cousin of baseball that you are supposed to play wile wearing a sweatervest, but that's it. That's about how much I know about legal writing. But that didn't stop the curriculum of my Legal Research and Writing class from forcing me to write a legal analysis over the weekend. I did it with no good instructions. That is to say the only instructions I have are from a poorly written and even worse edited book on legal writing that could put an OCD speed freak to sleep. Whenever I open the book my eyes glaze over and my brain digs a a moat around it to prevent any information from getting in. With that fantastic resource I was more than ready to write my legal analysis. Of course today, the day it is due, we discussed how to write a legal analysis in class. Thanks. That's really helpful. Now I know what I was supposed to do and that I did everything wrong. Way to boost the ol' self esteem. But, not to be deterred, I have received another assignment: a specific type of legal memo that we, once again, have not been instructed how to create by any comprehensible source. I'm ready, let's play some cricket.
A girl in my class is going to run for section senator. I have no idea of what kind of budget is at the disposal of whatever governing committee she would sit on if she wins, so I naturally wanted to be her campaign manager. I advised her that she should start making campaign promises. She will dedicate a refrigerator solely to our section so that we have adequate room to keep our lunches in them. She will also build Jurassic Park outside in the university quad. Like I said, I have no idea of the budget. It's a bunch of lawyers running the show, so I assume they are rich. Perhaps that is unreasonable of me. She declined my offer to run her campaign.
Apparently there are a lot of Red Sox haters here. I have had to defend my team, and my city, on at least three separate occasions since moving to DC. Once was against a Chicago White Sox fan. Really? The White Sox now have beef with Boston? That's just dumb, they aren't even in our division. They have no one to blame but themselves for their own gross incompetence at running a baseball team. Don't try to infringe on the best rivalry in sports, White Sox. Stay in Chicago and cry into your soup.
Monday, September 7, 2009
That's not a monkey
The zoo is a great place to see things. Like hippos and elephants. And awful parenting and fat people. Erika came to visit this weekend (which was fantastic!) and we observed all of these things at the National Zoo. I know this probably is not news, but America is obese. And you certainly get to see a slice of America on Labor Day weekend at a major tourist pull. If not for the fence separating them I might have had a hard time differentiating some of the zoo patrons from the elephants. On second thought maybe not, the elephants were more adorable and didn't walk around with a camera in front of their face the entire time. The range of bad parenting was vast. It included putting kids on leashes, letting kids run buck wild without any modicum of supervision, and telling children blatantly false information. Mr. Boucher, my high school biology teacher, would have pulled out all of his hair if he heard some of the ignorant answers that parents gave about elementary (or sometimes common-sense) parts of biology.
There were two redeeming familial interactions, however. The first was a child who, in a desperate attempt to gain the attention of a komodo dragon, started banging on the glass cage with all his might. His father pulled him back, away from the glass, and said sternly "Don't ever do that!" The kid was far more respectful after that. The second went something like this:
Brother 1: Look at the monkey!
Brother 2: That's not a monkey.
Brother 1: Sarah said it was a monkey.
Brother 2: Well, Sarah was wrong.
Way to go Brother 2. He wins my prize for showing no remorse in dispatching ignorance while slightly mocking his family. For the record they were looking at something along the lines of a gopher. Clearly not a monkey.
Parents who are bad at their job are a little more jarring than other people who are bad at theirs. Later that night we experienced a couple of waitresses and a bartender who were at best sub-par at the jobs. Literally tossing menus onto a table is not a way to endear yourself to your customers. Neither is having a bad attitude and clearly being on drugs. That would be Waitresses 1 and 2. With the bartender I may be being judgmental, but when you think peach sangria, you think...I don't know...something with fruit in it that tastes good. Apparently this bartender decided that peach sangria should consist mostly of juice and peach schnapps. Unfortunate. Good think it was not me who ordered or drank it. That was taken care of by Rachel, Rebecca, and Erika. This all occured at a restaurant one of my college professors recommended to me. I'm beginning to question her judgment and perhaps her teachings. I thought she was legit, but now I'm not so sure. But it's ok, we ended up at a bar that had decently priced nachos and played Alice In Chains. I couldn't complain about that.
The highlight of Sunday was this oatmeal that Erika and I had at brunch. Brunch isn't typically the largest meal, and I usually have a big boy appetite. But this oatmeal dominated me. It was came with raisins, pecans, cinammon milk, and caramelized bananas. Delicious, but I probably ate half of it and wanted to puke I was so full. At least I wasn't like Erika, who stuffed herself, same as me, and then ate a little more because that's always a good idea. Probably the first time I have ever been shown who is boss by oatmeal. With bloated stomachs we walked around Georgetown and then back home. Of course then we made dinner (burritos) and stuffed ourselves again. And what's better after a day of being uncomfortably full than going out and getting a brownie sundae for dessert? Ugh.
Mondays suck. Apparently going back to school on Monday is not the issue. I definitely have a case of the Mondays every week.
There were two redeeming familial interactions, however. The first was a child who, in a desperate attempt to gain the attention of a komodo dragon, started banging on the glass cage with all his might. His father pulled him back, away from the glass, and said sternly "Don't ever do that!" The kid was far more respectful after that. The second went something like this:
Brother 1: Look at the monkey!
Brother 2: That's not a monkey.
Brother 1: Sarah said it was a monkey.
Brother 2: Well, Sarah was wrong.
Way to go Brother 2. He wins my prize for showing no remorse in dispatching ignorance while slightly mocking his family. For the record they were looking at something along the lines of a gopher. Clearly not a monkey.
Parents who are bad at their job are a little more jarring than other people who are bad at theirs. Later that night we experienced a couple of waitresses and a bartender who were at best sub-par at the jobs. Literally tossing menus onto a table is not a way to endear yourself to your customers. Neither is having a bad attitude and clearly being on drugs. That would be Waitresses 1 and 2. With the bartender I may be being judgmental, but when you think peach sangria, you think...I don't know...something with fruit in it that tastes good. Apparently this bartender decided that peach sangria should consist mostly of juice and peach schnapps. Unfortunate. Good think it was not me who ordered or drank it. That was taken care of by Rachel, Rebecca, and Erika. This all occured at a restaurant one of my college professors recommended to me. I'm beginning to question her judgment and perhaps her teachings. I thought she was legit, but now I'm not so sure. But it's ok, we ended up at a bar that had decently priced nachos and played Alice In Chains. I couldn't complain about that.
The highlight of Sunday was this oatmeal that Erika and I had at brunch. Brunch isn't typically the largest meal, and I usually have a big boy appetite. But this oatmeal dominated me. It was came with raisins, pecans, cinammon milk, and caramelized bananas. Delicious, but I probably ate half of it and wanted to puke I was so full. At least I wasn't like Erika, who stuffed herself, same as me, and then ate a little more because that's always a good idea. Probably the first time I have ever been shown who is boss by oatmeal. With bloated stomachs we walked around Georgetown and then back home. Of course then we made dinner (burritos) and stuffed ourselves again. And what's better after a day of being uncomfortably full than going out and getting a brownie sundae for dessert? Ugh.
Mondays suck. Apparently going back to school on Monday is not the issue. I definitely have a case of the Mondays every week.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Cold Called
Last night I went to my first bar review. It is absolutely not a big study group for the bar exam, as I was (not) led to believe. Rather, every Thursday night the law school assembles at a bar (which rotates), there are drink specials, and we get to watch our classmates get progressively more drunk and prone to dancing. My recommendation is to resist the urge to dance at all costs. One day we will all be lawyers (hopefully). You do not want to walk into court only to realize that one night you made an ass out of yourself dancing to Apache by the Sugar Hill Gang in front of the opposing attorney. Of course if you are either a spectacular dancer or possess an incredible lack of foresight, go ahead and dance. I recommend dressing scantily as well. I did not use bar review as a dance party; I took the opportunity to meet and hang out with people in a non-school setting. It was nice and refreshing, though I had to bar all law school talk from at least two conversations I had last night. It does get hard to talk about other things when all we know we have in common is school. But there are other things to talk about. Like ice cream and Kanye West, as one girl pointed out. (Of course these garnered these responses from the other guy we were talking to: "I don't really like ice cream; I don't really like sweet things," and, "I don't really listen to him." Well, those were rousing conversations, let me tell you.)
The other first that happened to me is that I got cold called in class. I blame Kanye West for this, actually. Being cold called is why you do your homework, so that you don't look like a complete fool. Positive: I had done my homework. Negative: I had done it about four days previously and didn't quite remember every aspect of it. It balanced out and I did alright. I knew what I was talking about, but there was definitely some floundering going on. It certainly got my heart racing and my brain saying "Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap." This professor (Criminal Law) likes to choose people to cold call based on their relation to the case we are reading. So if the case is from New York, he'll call on someone from New York. Sometimes this connection gets less obvious. For example we are talking about actus reus, the necessary concept of a bad act in criminal law. The professor puts up a picture of the poster from "Minority Report" because it is basically a movie about how the justice system would look if actus reus was not a requirement to commit a crime. And Minority report starred Tom Cruise, who also starred in the movie A Few Good Men. And the first scene of that movie shows the U.S. Marine Corps Marching Band. Except that in the movie that is actually the Texas A&M Drill Team. And we have a student who is a graduate of Texas A&M... And that's how he chose who to cold call yesterday. Today we have a case from Illinois. "We have lots of Illinois connections today," says the professor. "Phew," I think, "I don't have any Illinois connections." And of course I get called on. I just look stupidly at the professor for three seconds trying to figure out my Illinois connection. The professor understands my confusion and says to the class "He's like, what's my Illinois connection? Well he put down" (on an index card on the first day of class because we were asked to) "Kanye West as one of his favorite artists. And Kanye West is from Chicago." First, I wrote Kanye because I couldn't think of a third favorite artist, so I just went with it. Second, Really? That's the strongest Illinois connection we've got. I like someone from Illinois? I'm sure we have people who are actually from Chicago, or who went to school in Illinois. But I like a famous artist from Chicago, so bam, I'm on the spot. Like I said, I blame Kanye for this. I'm going to use my law school expertise to figure out a way to sue him for this.
The other first that happened to me is that I got cold called in class. I blame Kanye West for this, actually. Being cold called is why you do your homework, so that you don't look like a complete fool. Positive: I had done my homework. Negative: I had done it about four days previously and didn't quite remember every aspect of it. It balanced out and I did alright. I knew what I was talking about, but there was definitely some floundering going on. It certainly got my heart racing and my brain saying "Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap." This professor (Criminal Law) likes to choose people to cold call based on their relation to the case we are reading. So if the case is from New York, he'll call on someone from New York. Sometimes this connection gets less obvious. For example we are talking about actus reus, the necessary concept of a bad act in criminal law. The professor puts up a picture of the poster from "Minority Report" because it is basically a movie about how the justice system would look if actus reus was not a requirement to commit a crime. And Minority report starred Tom Cruise, who also starred in the movie A Few Good Men. And the first scene of that movie shows the U.S. Marine Corps Marching Band. Except that in the movie that is actually the Texas A&M Drill Team. And we have a student who is a graduate of Texas A&M... And that's how he chose who to cold call yesterday. Today we have a case from Illinois. "We have lots of Illinois connections today," says the professor. "Phew," I think, "I don't have any Illinois connections." And of course I get called on. I just look stupidly at the professor for three seconds trying to figure out my Illinois connection. The professor understands my confusion and says to the class "He's like, what's my Illinois connection? Well he put down" (on an index card on the first day of class because we were asked to) "Kanye West as one of his favorite artists. And Kanye West is from Chicago." First, I wrote Kanye because I couldn't think of a third favorite artist, so I just went with it. Second, Really? That's the strongest Illinois connection we've got. I like someone from Illinois? I'm sure we have people who are actually from Chicago, or who went to school in Illinois. But I like a famous artist from Chicago, so bam, I'm on the spot. Like I said, I blame Kanye for this. I'm going to use my law school expertise to figure out a way to sue him for this.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Not a Jew
Tonight I was taken to trivia night at a synagogue. It was actually a lot of fun. Two rounds in particular were a lot of fun. In the first of these rounds they played 24 cartoon theme songs in a row and you had to guess what each one was. I would say that 50% of the cartoons I watched as a kid were X-Men. I also did not have cable growing up. I don't know if that affects it so much, but I am not exactly a cartoon aficionado. However, I was able to guess correctly the He Man theme song and the My Little Pony theme song. Those divergent cartoons were my greatest successes. The Simpsons theme song wasn't exactly hard. My Little Pony was particularly difficult since I've never even attempted to see an episode. To be honest I wasn't certain it was a cartoon. I only thought of it because of Pony. I also got Mighty Mouse because Mighty Mouse is awesome (and easy).
The second themed round was Jew or Not a Jew, where they put up pictures of celebrities on the projector and you, unsurprisingly, have to guess whether they are a Jew or not. It wasn't that hard, but I kept feeling like I was creating my own version of The Chanukah song. Surprises: Jason Biggs = Not a Jew; Sarah Michelle Geller = Jew; and most suprising of all...Paula Abdul = Jew. That last one is unfortunate. I think she probably gives Jews a bad rep. Good thing not too many people know about her.
Here's another thing I learned today: if you are going to commit a violent or drug trafficking crime that has federal jurisdiction, you really shouldn't carry a gun. Carrying a gun is a mandatory minimum 5 extra years in jail. Branishing a gun is an extra 7. Firing a gun is an extra 10. That sucks! I highly recommend just not having a gun. Or not committing federal crimes. Whichever is easier. After class, my Criminal Law professor told a classmate, "Here's some free legal advice: leave the gun at home when you are carrying weed." My classmate was appropriately freaked out.
My torts professor smacked down a kid who deserves it. It was awesome! In college we used to refer to the this type of kid as "that guy." He's the one who sits in the front of the class, raises his hand constantly, and starts every comment to the professor with "Well in my experience..." He's a douchebag basically. In law school we have been advised that "that guy" is called a "gunner." He guns for the professors attention. And my section in school certainly has a gunner. I don't know his name, but when I said "Hey, Gunner wasn't in class today," everyone knew who I was talking about. But Gunner wasn't in class on Friday (I'm assuming, since I don't recall him making obnoxious comments), nor was he in class Monday or Tuesday. A lot of people started wondering what happened to him: "Maybe he got in off a wait list to another school. "Oh, well he probably deserves to, since he knows so much" (read: what a dick). But today Gunner was back in class. No explanation. And, of course, he raises his hand in Torts class and starts pontificating on what he believes to be the common law standard for trespass. Our professor stops him mid-sentence and says, "Well you weren't here yesterday when we discussed this, and that's not exactly the case..." aka "Shut up and put your hand down." Yes! Point, game, match. Professor wins.
The second themed round was Jew or Not a Jew, where they put up pictures of celebrities on the projector and you, unsurprisingly, have to guess whether they are a Jew or not. It wasn't that hard, but I kept feeling like I was creating my own version of The Chanukah song. Surprises: Jason Biggs = Not a Jew; Sarah Michelle Geller = Jew; and most suprising of all...Paula Abdul = Jew. That last one is unfortunate. I think she probably gives Jews a bad rep. Good thing not too many people know about her.
Here's another thing I learned today: if you are going to commit a violent or drug trafficking crime that has federal jurisdiction, you really shouldn't carry a gun. Carrying a gun is a mandatory minimum 5 extra years in jail. Branishing a gun is an extra 7. Firing a gun is an extra 10. That sucks! I highly recommend just not having a gun. Or not committing federal crimes. Whichever is easier. After class, my Criminal Law professor told a classmate, "Here's some free legal advice: leave the gun at home when you are carrying weed." My classmate was appropriately freaked out.
My torts professor smacked down a kid who deserves it. It was awesome! In college we used to refer to the this type of kid as "that guy." He's the one who sits in the front of the class, raises his hand constantly, and starts every comment to the professor with "Well in my experience..." He's a douchebag basically. In law school we have been advised that "that guy" is called a "gunner." He guns for the professors attention. And my section in school certainly has a gunner. I don't know his name, but when I said "Hey, Gunner wasn't in class today," everyone knew who I was talking about. But Gunner wasn't in class on Friday (I'm assuming, since I don't recall him making obnoxious comments), nor was he in class Monday or Tuesday. A lot of people started wondering what happened to him: "Maybe he got in off a wait list to another school. "Oh, well he probably deserves to, since he knows so much" (read: what a dick). But today Gunner was back in class. No explanation. And, of course, he raises his hand in Torts class and starts pontificating on what he believes to be the common law standard for trespass. Our professor stops him mid-sentence and says, "Well you weren't here yesterday when we discussed this, and that's not exactly the case..." aka "Shut up and put your hand down." Yes! Point, game, match. Professor wins.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Just do it
Just about every device in every bathroom at school is operated by motion sensors. I like that function so that I don't have to touch anything to flush, but it's hard to shake off the sensation of being under surveillance in the bathroom: the last place you want to be under surveillance. Well I suppose the second to last place. The last place is when you are committing a crime. I dunno, maybe the bedroom? Whatever. The thing I don't like about motion sensing bathrooms is the towel dispensers. You wave your wet hand in front of them, saying "Hello, see my hand is wet, I would like you to assist in drying it now," and it spits out some paper towel at you. But it only gives you a piece of paper towel about three inches long. It is completely insufficient to dry your hands with. Then you have to wave again: "Hi, still not dry." And if you are unlucky, or washed your hands really well you might even have to beg for a third piece of paper towel. Here's my question, why would you ever make it so that a machine's function is only partially performed each time you use it? In layman's terms, why the hell wouldn't you just program it to give you enough paper towel the first time you wave your hand in front of it?? It's not like the technology isn't capable of it. It's like the designers of the paper towel dispenser got served with divorce papers that day and wanted to take their frustration out on the rest of society.
Dear paper towel dispenser designers,
Please stop sucking at your job. Design a machine that is useful. Just do it.
Thanks,
Everyone who washes their hands
I walked to school tonight for a meeting that didn't exist. Oops. That is to say the meeting exists, it just exists tomorrow, not today. I got the wrong day. So when I was trying to get to the meeting I was worried about being late a day early. That's odd in retrospect. And I busted into a classroom, perspiring slightly, from trying to get there in time only to be greeted awkwardly by a couple of guys trying to study. By B guys. Sorry. It could have been worse. I could have asked someone where the meeting was only to be given odd looks and told I was dumb. I figured out on my own, with the help of the bulletin board, that I had the wrong day and I privately felt like an idiot. Well I guess it was private until I shared it here.
I don't know the rules of fashion. From what I understand I'm not supposed to wear white after Labor Day. I always thought that was a silly rule because it's always after some Labor Day. Or does it mean Labor Day through the end of the year. I think it means until Memorial Day? But Labor Day is coming up soon, so I'm trying to wear all the white that I own and I want to wear. People must think I'm trying to join either an angelic choir or the Klu Klux Klan. But this is a preposterous rule. Even for an unwritten rule. It has to be qualified in some way. No white? A white button down shirt is still standard after Labor Day, right? I really don't understand this. Does it mean something like I'm not supposed to wear white suits? Not being from South of the Mason Dixon line I don't own any. And if I'm not allowed to wear white during the winter how am I supposed to pop out of a snow bank and pretend I'm a Yeti?
My apartment building's pool closes after Labor Day too. That's sad. I haven't had a chance to go to the pool yet. I'm going to try this weekend. I was told that the pool will close because we only have the lifeguard through this weekend. Why do we need a lifeguard? No one goes into that pool. And if you do and you don't know how to swim, then you probably deserve to drown. It's called sink or swim for a reason!
Dear paper towel dispenser designers,
Please stop sucking at your job. Design a machine that is useful. Just do it.
Thanks,
Everyone who washes their hands
I walked to school tonight for a meeting that didn't exist. Oops. That is to say the meeting exists, it just exists tomorrow, not today. I got the wrong day. So when I was trying to get to the meeting I was worried about being late a day early. That's odd in retrospect. And I busted into a classroom, perspiring slightly, from trying to get there in time only to be greeted awkwardly by a couple of guys trying to study. By B guys. Sorry. It could have been worse. I could have asked someone where the meeting was only to be given odd looks and told I was dumb. I figured out on my own, with the help of the bulletin board, that I had the wrong day and I privately felt like an idiot. Well I guess it was private until I shared it here.
I don't know the rules of fashion. From what I understand I'm not supposed to wear white after Labor Day. I always thought that was a silly rule because it's always after some Labor Day. Or does it mean Labor Day through the end of the year. I think it means until Memorial Day? But Labor Day is coming up soon, so I'm trying to wear all the white that I own and I want to wear. People must think I'm trying to join either an angelic choir or the Klu Klux Klan. But this is a preposterous rule. Even for an unwritten rule. It has to be qualified in some way. No white? A white button down shirt is still standard after Labor Day, right? I really don't understand this. Does it mean something like I'm not supposed to wear white suits? Not being from South of the Mason Dixon line I don't own any. And if I'm not allowed to wear white during the winter how am I supposed to pop out of a snow bank and pretend I'm a Yeti?
My apartment building's pool closes after Labor Day too. That's sad. I haven't had a chance to go to the pool yet. I'm going to try this weekend. I was told that the pool will close because we only have the lifeguard through this weekend. Why do we need a lifeguard? No one goes into that pool. And if you do and you don't know how to swim, then you probably deserve to drown. It's called sink or swim for a reason!
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