Her Name Was Lola

I finally opened the box and set up my new computer. Is this the first blog post from my new computer?? Nope. Still using the old one. Ol' Faithful. I'm refusing to adapt. Darwin disapproves of my computer usage. But I can't just abandon this one. What ever happened to loyalty? I'm skeptical of the sleek, new one. If the new computer were a person he would appear too polished, too prepared, and a little smug. The computer has a fingerprint identifier! What is that necessary for? It's not like I keep state secrets and launch codes on my computer. I mean, it's a cool feature and makes me feel like I'm Jason Bourne, but it is really impractical.

I like the vague anti-colonial sentiments that the World Cup produces in me. Watching the U.S. lose to Ghana was bitter-sweet. I'm sorry the U.S. lost (to the limited extent that I care about soccer), but I kind of feel good that the U.S., the biggest badest awesomest country in the world (I know those don't make sense together/aren't actual words), got shown who is boss by Ghana. Ghana - not exactly an international power or even a traditionally flourishing country. But they can at least do something better than us, so more power to them. Throw off those colonial chains and play some soccer. <-- New World Cup Slogan

Friday night I went down to the Cape and got to see people including, but not limited to, Jonah, Jessie, Caitlin, and Josh. It was kind of like junior year of college all over again. Only Caitlin said dumber things (like voicing her fear of getting sunburned by the fire). And Jonah's car got a little puke in it.
We went out to a couple of bars in Falmouth, one of which sponsored the absolute worst cover band I have ever heard. By and large I'm not wild about cover bands, but this band killed me. They did not have a modicum of talent. Also, I'm pretty sure the point of a cover band is to resemble the original song. No one told that to this band. It was atrocious. A massacre of the music. Rock bottom hit when they (three white guys who were worse at their instruments than your typical high school band) played a "cover" of "Forgot About Dre." The "bassist" "rapped" the "song" while my ears bled. Beat, rhythm, lyrics - what are those? All unimportant! My god, it was terrible. I would rather have listened to "100 Years" by Five for Fighting (my least favorite song of all time) or Creed.

Today the Gap was practically giving away clothing.

Pasta Cave

Today I played a minimal amount of Hearts at work. That was due to getting an assignment. Insert lively trumpet blast here. I'm not sure what it says that I am happy to be getting work to do. Anyways, my assignment was basically "Does this exist? I need to know by Wednesday." After nearly a full day of research, the short answer I've come up with is "no." The long answer is "no, I'm pretty sure it doesn't...there are moderately related things, but not really." I have to commit that to paper tomorrow. Maybe tighten it up and insert citations.
The problem with this assignment (again) is that I am searching for something that doesn't exist. My goal is either to find it, or to confirm that it does not actually exist. I am pretty sure that it doesn't exist, but I can't be certain. It's an unsettling feeling - like having mice/squirrels in your wall (the exterminator thinks it was chipmunks, which I'm alright with. I just can't bring myself to be afraid of a chipmunk. If it wants to be in my wall, let it), only if the other side finds something then we are a little screwed and I feel like a fool.

There is office politics at work! And I remain blissfully unaffected, while the other intern is kind of stuck in the middle of it, receiving work from both two feuding sides and being forced to prioritize. I get to sit there and watch the gladiatorial contest play out.

Annie Hall.

I am looking for summer drinks that are not beer, gin and tonic, or dark and stormy. Suggestions? Whiskey on the rocks just doesn't cut it when it's 90 out.

I don't understand people who think it is alright to stop and have a conversation right in front of the entrance to the escalator, or that the bottom of the stairway is a good place to relax and sit down. Be a tad more aware!

Ron pointed out today that it was illegal to brandish a gun in traffic. But I don't see a problem with merely displaying a sign saying "I have a gun. Don't honk or yell at me." As a law student, my professional opinion is that it's fine. It's a free country, right? In retrospect I should have just written that as the answer to every exam question.

Speaking of Ron, this is the second workday that we have unintentionally coordinated outfits. Hope that stops happening, because we look weird riding the elevator out of the parking garage together.
Also speaking of Ron, he wants a BMW to eat pasta in. A pasta cave, as I dubbed it. Why, Ron? Why do you want a pasta cave?

Quarter to twelve and we just gettin' in

Thanks to refereeing a fencing tournament this weekend, I actually had to get up earlier during the weekend than I do the week. As a result, sleep has been difficult to come by, which is not aided by my body's refusal to turn off every night. Someone suggested tea or milk to help. I suggest whiskey.

Friday at work my "mentor" aka, the person in charge of the other intern and me, did not have any work for me to do in the morning. His instructions were "Go mess around on espn.com. I'll see what I can come up with." After four hours I finally got some work - organizing a spreadsheet in a different way and adding two sentences to a cover letter. Those took about 5 minutes each, and there wasn't a really good way to stretch them out. Then I got to look over a brief. Please discount the pun but that assignment was brief as well. Hope this week is more promising. Otherwise I'm starting to get angry as the computer cheats more and more at Hearts.

My friend who works at Ferragamo was trying to get me to buy shoes. While I am certain of their quality, on sale and with his 40% discount I still do not have $400 to spend on shoes, thank you.

While I do not desire to speak of the actual game, Thursday night I went out to a bar in Fenway for Game 7 Celtics/Lakers. Packard, fresh from a year in China, was present, as were a number of people I haven't seen in a while. Halfway through the game someone we knew started working the downstairs bar, so drinks were pretty easy to come by.
...I am not sure I have ever seen so many angry Bostonians in one place at around midnight that night. No one was happy. Thinking ahead, I parked my car about half a mile away from Fenway so I wouldn't get caught in a police barricade. I did walk by a few squads of riot police, tear gas ready, but I had no trouble getting home. Unfortunately there was no riot to disperse, and the precautions of the Boston PD were for naught.

There are some people who are perfectly nice who I just do not care for. People who are nice, and despite being kind of boring seem like they have more to themselves. What are you hiding? A ruthless, back-stabbing true personality? The fact that you are secretly (or not so secretly) a moron? Or are you actually just really boring? Unanswered questions.

I have to start writing cover letters this week. Self-promotion on paper addressed to "To Whom It May Concern" isn't my favorite thing. Maybe I'll just use blog entries and hope that they don't actually read cover letters.

Alejandro.

Hearts

Day off of work because of some antiquated Boston-only holiday. Bunker Hill Day. Awesome, I get to sleep in and write blog posts. What isn't awesome is the fact that there are squirrels/mice/something in the walls and likely attic of my house. I am certain of this because I could hear something grating away inside my wall last night at 1:30 am. I had to fall asleep with the prospect of a small rodent running around my room if one managed to bust through the wall. That was not a comfortable feeling. What if I woke up and had to get a rabies shot? I don't think it made it in here. But I need an exterminator, stat.

Sunday I ordered a new computer online. It's being built. My current laptop has lasted me five years and has issues too numerous to list, but it is still functioning well, all things considered. I pretty much had to be cajoled into buying the new one. There were coupons expiring that day! But soon I'll have two functional laptops. What do I do with that? Watch them fight it out? Maybe try to breed them and create a netbook?

It's incredible how much brushing your teeth can affect your mood.

Sometimes work is a 'run out the clock situation.' Sometimes it is really interesting and exciting. Sometimes I thank Microsoft for including Hearts.

Memo

What is it about Sunday morning that just makes you want to read the news? Well I'm awake, I spent the past few nights enjoying myself, and I have the impending doom of the workweek looming over me; guess I should know what is going on in the world. I feel very much like my parents sitting around drinking coffee and reading the New York Times. Only my NYT is delivered every morning in the form of a laptop computer screen. And I am nowhere near good enough to do the crossword puzzle, which really loses a little of its zing when it is 1) online, and 2) Google is a tab away should I reach a plateau of frustration.

My first 40-hour workweek (I think ever) was last week. It was not too bad. I do not really enjoy waking up early and having to focus before 11, but besides that it isn't terrible. What else would I be doing most of that time? Sleeping or sitting around mostly. Might as well do something productive, gain some experience, and get used to being around lawyers for prolonged periods of time.
So far I have learned that I do not enjoy walking behind wide, slow people in narrow corridors, that sports talk is a great way to be friendly (Beat LA), and that I know a lot less than all the attorneys.
Knowing a lot less plus not having any legal writing experience besides my stupid LRW class (which I didn't exactly ace anyways) made writing my first assigned memo a little daunting. Whereas for class it takes a week or two to write a memo, for work it took a day. That's a bit of an acceleration. The memo was essentially on whether there is any precedent for an argument the other side of a case is making. My answer turned out to be "no" (I hope that's correct because I could have totally messed that up!), which made research even more difficult. Searching for something that doesn't exist is a conundrum, and I certainly didn't scour the entire earth to make sure I was correct. I did, however, do a lot of research and end up pretty confident in my conclusion. But it is like asking whether there are any people in the world with blue skin. I assume not based on my knowledge and research (Blanca from Street Fighter aside), but I wouldn't actually know unless I checked every single person, which would be impractical to say the least. Anyway, I wrote the memo and sent it in at 4:57 on Friday. I was intimidated and had to proofread it a lot, and now I am spending the entire weekend wondering whether it was sufficiently good to merit my being hired for this position, or whether it was absolute garbage and I do not even deserve the desk and uncomfortable chair I was assigned.

Last night I played Trivial Pursuit and came across a question that was punctuated incorrectly. Something along the lines of: Who said in his presidential campaing, "It's the economy stupid"?
Where is that question mark going, Trivial Pursuit? You have to figure that out, get a better editor.

If I could cook like Anthony Bourdain that would be just fine with me.

I narrowly escaped seeing a friend of mine from high school ,whom I have not seen in five years, belly dance at a restaurant. That had a high potential for awkwardness.

You would think that Ginger Ale should get red-heads drunk.

Icing...Really?

So first off, icing - a new sort of drinking game involving Smirnoff Ice whereby if someone is handed a Smirnoff Ice they have to get down on one knee and chug it. The only way to block being iced is by carrying your own Ice. These rules apply anywhere, anytime. What is going on here? If you need references, I will refer you to http://brosicingbros.com/ and also the New York Times http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/09/business/media/09adco.html?scp=1&sq=icing&st=cse
What exactly is wrong with people? I'm fine drinking games like beirut and kings I suppose, but forcing someone to chug a disgusting, sugary Smirnoff Ice in inappropriate places crosses a line. I mean, it's hilarious looking at pictures of people who are silly enough to participate, but if someone "iced" me I would probably laugh in their face. They went and bought Smirnoff Ice. I bet you felt like a real man picking out that pomegranate fusion flavored one.

Work is alright. I've spent a lot of time reading about subjects in which I have less than no previous experience or knowledge. I finally got my first couple of assignments this afternoon. At 4. Needless to say they will be picked up tomorrow. Everyone seems nice...the internet there is monitored, so I guess everyone has to be nice. Except this one woman who I have already been warned to disregard if she gives me tasks. Apparently the office "unanimously thinks" she sucks. Good note: do not become friends with her.
One of the secretaries is the loudest woman on the planet...unintentionally. She shuffles her feet when she walks and her breathing is as loud as Darth Vader's. Every time she walks by my door I think she is having a seizure and I check to make sure she's alright. This inadvertent reaction makes me unfortunately monitor how often she goes to the bathroom, to get water, etc. and let me tell you, it does not seem like she spends a lot of time at her desk. I want to buy her an inhaler.
9-5 will take some getting used to. Especially when it is for no pay.

Is there a throne on Mt. Olympus vacant for Stephen Strasburg? Or do we have to build a new one before his arrival?

Coincidence?

Yesterday I ran tons of people around town who I haven't seen in years, most notably my two favorite high school teachers (separately). In the morning I decided for basically the first time ever to run outside on the street. I picked a street that I'd turn around at, but when I finally got there I decided to go another 2 blocks before turning around. By pure coincidence once I got to the newly decided upon street I saw a high school teacher of mine driving with his window down. I yelled to him and he stopped and talked for a little bit. What are the chances that on that day I would run outside, decide to go the extra distance, and he would be driving by with his window down for me to flag him down?
In the middle of the day I ran into about 3 people from high school whose names I remembered to varying degrees.
Then when I was out to dinner at a restaurant I ran into my other favorite high school teacher and talked to him for a while. What are the odds of that happening? Come on, something was going on yesterday. Something magical. Or just coincidental. Both of my teachers were pleased to hear that they were inspirational to me and help effect the trajectory of my life somehow between being a philosophy major and going to law school. The first teacher taught my high school ethics course in senior year. The second made sophomore year history basically into a history of ideas class - I read my first Immanuel Kant that year thanks to him, as a confused 15 year-old. Kant, Edmund Burke, Freud, and Marx to name a few things we read. As sophomores. In high school.

That dinner last night also happened to be the second time I've ever sent food back. I got salmon and it was pretty severely undercooked. Ms. Chef, you gotta throw that bad boy back on the grill. For about an hour after the meal I convinced myself that my stomach hurt and I probably had food poisoning. Maybe that's like med students thinking they have diseases they read about.

The Celtics need to figure this out. Immediately. (As I write this, it is the middle of Game 2.)

Tomorrow is the first day of work. I'm a little nervous. First days are always awkward. Where do I go? Where do I sit? Do we shake hands or kiss on the cheek? One of those I know the answer to! 1 for 3 - not bad if this is baseball. I'm actually nervous about writing legal memos and whatnot. Its just not something I'm incredibly confident about. To bolster my confidence, however, I am suiting up! Suit up!

The Sandwich

I forgot that I have a picture of the epic Anthony Bourdain-approved sandwich.

Photo credit goes to Matt Hope and his camera phone.

Dopplegangster

I just cooked bluefish for the first time. Come to think of it, I think it was the first time I can remember eating bluefish. I kind of thought it would taste like blueberries. That was clearly a dumb thought, they taste like fish. Next time I cook bluefish I am going to try to devise a way to get them to taste like blueberries. Maybe marinade them in blueberry jam and garnish them with Berry-Berry Kix. Kid tested, mother approved.

After two days of searching I bought a suit yesterday - with a little help picking it out from Shaked. It's navy blue, two buttons, and smells like fresh morning dew on a brilliant summer morning. This is why I don't write fiction. I got it from a store called Miltons, but I also looked at Macys. What an unhelpful experience. The first day at Macys we got there a little less than 30 minutes before closing time on Sunday of a three day weekend. No salesperson even looked at us. Right before closing, I get it you don't want some crazy customer making all sorts of demands on you, keeping you at work late, or further ruining your already terrible day. The next morning, however, I expected service! I was disappointed. After mulling around the suit racks for fifteen minutes without so much as a glance from a salesperson (mostly because the salespeople were largely absent and apparently uninterested in selling clothes, being helpful, or generally doing their job) I tried a suit on. On the way back from the dressing room we had succeeded in flagging down a saleswoman who did not work in the suiting department. She found a woman who did work in the suiting department and pointed her to me as I held a Calvin Klein suit that didn't fit quite right.
Her: "Yes?"
Me: "I'm looking at suits."
Her: "Ok."
Me: "...ummm yeah, suits, I was wondering...."
Her: "Ok, we have suits." Noticing the suit in my arms. "Do you want to try that on?"
Me: "I just did."
Her: "Ok."
Me: "...It didn't fit exactly right. Do you do alterations?"
Her: "Oh, no we don't do alterations here."
Me: "Alright then. I think we're done here. Would you take this back for me?"
Way to be helpful lady. She could not have been less enthused or less knowledgeable. Do you want a commission or not? Apparently not. Later on the first saleswoman who had found the unhelpful lady apologized profusely to me and asked if I had found everything I had been looking for. I told her I was pretty done with the suiting department at Macys. Immediately after Macys I went into Miltons and within literally ten seconds of walking through the door I was asked if I needed any help. Stark difference. Macys suiting department, you get low marks and have now been placed in the doghouse.

There is a book out there called "Dopplegangster." It is trashy fiction and if it cost six dollars less than its sales price of seven dollars I would have bought it. I gathered from the back cover that a former-actress/current-stripper and her magician friend must save New York from a mob war that somehow includes dopplegangers. Also, an attractive and likely Hispanic man named Lopez is involved. How could you go wrong with this book? Once I'm done reading "Tender Is The Night" I might have to look into "Dopplegangster" - they are probably close to the same level of literary greatness.