Russian House Music

Well, I don't know how to say this but...I'm pregnant. . . . . . . April Fools! Oh haha, I bet you were freaking out. What a hilarious joke. Sadly that was my first and only prank this April Fools Day - if you can call that a prank (some would say it's a cry for help). My roommate has been away for a few days as a Mock Trial tournament in Chicago. I was considering covering one of his walls with mirrors. I thought it would be funny, but other people disagreed. So I nixed it. April Fools Day seems to be a dying art.

I spent most of this weekend being academically-minded. My goal was to get a very rough draft of my Antitrust paper done by the end of the weekend. I succeeded. Huzzah! I also have to go back and make sure anything I said makes sense but that is Future Will's problem.
Saturday I accompanied Ron and his team to see the Jessup final round. In a classic Cold War match up, we had Moscow versus Columbia (university, not country). Just like the Cold War, Moscow won (wait, what?) but best oralist went to Columbia. It was good to see the top two teams, to see what makes great oral advocacy. This could not have been more in contrast to the 1L moot court competition I had to judge this afternoon. Actually the 1Ls I saw were surprisingly good. I was going to play the role of Justice Thomas (" ") or be a jerk, but I ended up being a benevolent judge. It's good resume building for being a benevolent dictator of a small island nation, preferably.

DC needs to get good non-gourmet pizza. Good take-out pizza.
So generally at the internal moot court competitions, they serve the judges a nice lunch. Usually sandwiches from Corner Bakery with some coffee, Diet Coke, and cookies. I had just run and I was excited to scoop some turkey avocado. Instead there was Sprite and pizza. Bad pizza. Cardboard pizza. Tiny little flat slices so greasy they stuck to the box pizza. What the hell is that?
Later today, I went to Damien's to begin the new season of "Game of Thrones." I was pumped because not only was the show starting back up, they were going to have a bar-b-q. They did not. They ordered pizza. Not quite as gross, but still bad pizza. I'd give it a 3. (Dear pizza company, pizza traditionally comes with more than a hint of cheese. It's not like Hint of Lime Tostitos.) What I'm saying is that DC needs to clean up its act and get some pizza that doesn't require you to be hammered at 1 am to taste good.

At the behest of Ron and his teammates, Friday night I went to Russia House. This time I actually remember it clearly. It still has huge Russian guys in black just standing there. "You need to move drink." "Yessir. I will move my drink." I've never felt so simultaneously safe and unsafe. The entire thing makes you wonder if it's a front. But I felt right at home because they were playing "The Patriot" on the tv. Talk about a mismatch. Really Russia House has hilarious Eurotrash. And Russian house music grows on you after a while. I'm not proud to admit it, but it's true.

Hometown

My hometown is sort of boring. At times, there can be nothing interesting to do. For example, the burrito store was open while the liquor store was closed. Who does that? I was lulled into a false sense of boredom, so Monday night I decided to go to the (only) local bar. Huge mistake since I had no desire to run into acquaintances from high school. I went with Ron and eventually met up with Ryan and Morgan. But in the process, I made awkward eye contact with a few people who had been happily forgotten since high school. Like Becca with the trashy clothes. And what's-her-name with the name that escapes memory. Luckily no conversation was initiated, but it was awkward enough.
It got me prepared a bit for my 10 year high school reunion. (I skipped the 5 year and apparently missed a girl fight.) I think I'll be "successful" at my 10 year reunion. If all goes according to plan and I don't fail out this semester, I'll be a lawyer. And I will have moved out of my hometown. That makes me successful. What else can you hope for at a high school reunion? It seems like the point is to show off how awesome you are now so everyone who didn't like you can reflect on how wrong they were and how much of a jerk that makes them. High school reunions are a big F-U opportunity, or am I missing something? I guess there is the possibility of reigniting long-lost friendship. But given my high school, that seems unlikely.

Speaking of high school people - last night was the traditional elementary school reunion that occurs each year for Rebecca's birthday. Every year Rebecca, Vanessa, Jessica, and I go out to dinner and drinks in Boston to celebrate Rebecca's birthday. We have known each other since kindergarten - except Vanessa who arrived in 2nd grade. Rebecca was one of two people in my elementary school class who was younger than me. Sucka.
We went to a Chinese hot pot restaurant in (shockingly) Chinatown and for drinks at a bar called Scholars. It was all well and good. Two med students, a law student, and a soon to be business student. Pushed to succeed much?

I just heard a commercial that began "Attention women with a muffin top." It was about weight loss - but I don't think it's the most delicate method of reaching the target audience.
"Attention people who love muffin tops. Come to Will's Bakery." Much better.

I just found some of my old Star Wars action figures in my closet. I seriously considered bringing them back down to DC. Maybe just Han Solo and Darth Vader...and the X-Wing? That would look cool in my apartment...no?

Update on Bottle Service

As it turns out, the summer from Chicago who plopped down his credit card, certain it would be reimbursed, will not be repaid for the bottle service he ordered. Told you it was unnecessary. For his status grab, he will take a nice $750 hit on his credit card. That's what being overly ambitious gets you. I feel bad on one level, but I think it serves him right on another. Not necessary and impressing no one.

Chi-Town

I just got back from my trip to Chicago. What's that firm? You want to fly all of the summers nationwide into Chicago for a retreat? No, I have no problem with a free trip to Chicago. So all 31 summers from all offices got to meet each other and get put up in a nice hotel. Wednesday night all of the summers had a cooking competition. Basically we divided into four teams, each under the supervision of a professional chef, and cooked three dishes. My veal marsala was pretty darn good, but ultimately my team did not win. I think it's because we didn't put bacon in. Should have stuck to that plan. The event was surprisingly fun between the good food, beer, and collegial atmosphere. Afterwards all of the summers headed out to a bar together. The recruiting staff was emphatic about taking all our name tags off before we went out (so the firm doesn't get blamed if we do something stupid). My own name tag was practically ripped off my shirt. Without the comfort of name tags, we all headed out to a bar. Some genius in the Chicago office must have suggested this swanky rooftop bar since that's where we ended up. With bottle service (???). Totally unnecessary. It was apparently justified as the most efficient way to get drinks for 30 people. Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. What a stupid waste of money. What an unnecessary status symbol. Why did we need two bottles of vodka for an insane amount of money? We could have filled a hotel room with 30 racks for the same cost. Now there's an efficient way for 30 people to get drinks. So...yeah, I was slightly uncomfortable with getting bottle service. After that bar, a few of us went to a second for a beer before heading back to the hotel for not enough sleep.

The next day consisted of meetings with firm management and a mock negotiation session. I'll call that the "business portion" of the trip. It lasted about 8 hours. For about 4 of those hours I was wondering whether there was any amount of caffeine that would make me feel entirely awake. I think the answer was no - but the early evening nap helped.
For the evening all of the summers headed to a reception at a partner's house. It was nice enough. Excellent cupcakes. The partner had claimed she was cooking for all of us, yet there was a catering staff preparing all of the food. Questionable. Maybe "cooking" means "writing a check." Like the Brits call an elevator a lift. But that's not the fun part.
The fun part was trekking out to the bars in Wriggleyville. We started with 30 summer associates and a handful of associates and partners from the Chicago office. Expense account. Woo! Cue beers, whiskey shots, car bombs, etc. Soon there was an exodus (Bob Marley style) and there were about ten summer associates left, including all five from the DC office and five few from other assorted offices. The ten of us headed to a second bar that provided us with jello shots and more beers. Soon our number dwindled to seven - all five from DC, and one each from New York and Silicon Valley. Pause for a moment. Out of 31 summers total, only 7 survived the second bar, but the entire DC office was still out. Bomb! I think we know what the coolest office is. Unpause. Our second bar was closing a little before 2. Nick, who is from Chicago, goes "Hey guys, I think I know a bar that's open until 4. Let's go!" So the seven of us head out at 2 am to our third bar of the night. I do not remember the name of this bar, but it was surprisingly packed and not one person in it was anywhere approaching sober. Don't you all have jobs? This is 2 am on a Thursday night, what's your master plan for tomorrow? No time to contemplate such things, more beers!
By 3 am, the seven of us (all five from DC, oh yeah! What good bonding!) were pretty hungry. We wandered down the street (the wrong way at first, quite surprisingly) to find pizza. We got to a pizza place that was closing down. "How many slices do you have left?" "Only three." "We'll take all of them." "Um, alright. I guess I'll give you a discount...they are pretty cold." Fine, bring on the discount, that pizza was fantastic, but not enough. Chris wanted to buy a cookie, but freaked out in a fit of profanity upon hearing that it was a $3 cookie. I bought it for him anyways, but he brooded for about five minutes about the three dollar cookie. After the three slices of pizza and the three dollar cookie, we still wanted more to eat. There was a couple in the corner with two intact slices of pizza and we all stared like hyenas. Eventually the couple left, and just threw out the two slices. What? I'm not proud, but I was very close to picking one out of the top of the trash can (what??? it didn't touch anything except the plate it was already on!). Calm down, I didn't do it. Instead, we took cabs back to the hotel and found a 24 hour Dunkin Donuts down the block. I bet you are expecting the ending that we ate donuts until we were content. You'd be wrong if you expected that. It was closed. When does a 24 hour Dunkin Donuts close?? 3:30 am apparently. I have never been so disappointed in a Dunkin Donuts. And that includes the time that Nakul got food poisoning from bad Dunkin Donuts cream cheese. Hungry, the seven of us (five from DC) went to bed, ending an epic night of summer associate bonding...but only for the bold.

The next day I met up with Matt Hope. We went to the Pitchfork Music Festival with Leor and Amy. I didn't know any bands that were playing beforehand, but I liked Das Racist and Battles from what I saw of them. I did not like Animal Collective, to put it mildly. In my opinion they could not have played a more boring set with less rhythm, melody, or energy. It just pissed me off. But it was a good day nonetheless. Even if it was filled with hipsters. And I do mean filled.

Saturday, Matt and I walked around the Loop. We watched some street performers, including acrobats who were vaguely racist and ended up getting a ticket from the police (for being loud and drawing too large a crowd, not for being vaguely racist). Another highlight was walking into a Banana Republic and hearing two guys leaving the store saying, "Wow, we made out in there." I burst out laughing. I knew what they meant, but it was just hilarious. That night we went to a nice dinner, saw a great improv show at IO, met up with Amy at a bar, and saw a midnight sketch show. Mmmm, I missed good comedy. And Matt Hope. It was great to get to hang out with him. And to get him out of lab.

Now I am back in DC. And boy do I need some down time.

A Tough Choice

Sunday afternoon Shaked and I were walking back from Georgetown when it looked like it was going to rain and rain bad. We power walked and made it about a block and a half away from my building when the sky just opened up. Drenching rain, getting blown around. We took cover under the overhang of a Chinese food restaurant with an older couple who turned out to be from Boston. We were having a nice conversation about Boston, waiting the rain out, when I saw a cockroach. Then two. Then three. All four of us simultaneously look down at the sewer grate we are standing next to and see roaches pouring out of it. A dozen or so big ones. The kind that might be able to take you in a fight. The woman just bolted without a word to her husband, who looked at us and said "I guess that's it," and followed his wife. I stupidly was about to say to Shaked that it wasn't that bad when I felt something crawling up my right ankle. Well, I did exactly what you would have done when faced with a choice between rain and roaches; I shook off the roach, screamed like a woman, and sprinted the block and a half home in the pouring rain. I beat Shaked, who was absolutely horrified, back to my building. It was the closest my life has ever been to a Goosebumps book.

I hope everyone had a good Independence Day and that no aliens attacked (only roaches?). I pretty much spent it writing cover letters for fall internships and watching fireworks from a friend's roof. On that note, if anyone happens to be bff with a congressman and wants to hook me up with an internship, I'd be fine with that. I wouldn't even complain.
Oh, right! I also had Shake Shack! It shook my shack. Then I had Qdoba because Shaked bought a salad and they were having a buy one, get one free promotion. Then I felt sick. Then I ate cake. Then I felt better.

Speaking of feeling sick, I had Pepto Bismol for the first time last week, I don't mind telling you. And it really worked! My stomach felt better in no time (well...some time). Good enough to drink Sam Adams at the bar down the street (which I may have been to three days in a row this weekend...by Sunday the bouncer didn't even card me because he knew I'd been there before. Oops? Or is this a good thing? Local bar, woo!)

Oh White Water, Keep on Rolling

Yesterday was white water rafting with the firm. Breakfast was at 7:15, bus left at 8. Despite the early morning, I was excited. There were 12 people from the firm. We were joined by approximately 80 5th grade campers on the rafting expedition. Luckily, our group got separate rafts and didn't really have to deal with energetic small children. After my raft nearly sunk and we waited half an hour to get a new one, the trip down the river got underway. We went from West Virginia (new state, cross it off the list!) down the Chesapeake to to Virginia. There is a point on the river where you can see the banks of Virginia, West Virginia, and Maryland at the same time. Pretty cool. Plus some Civil War battle sights. Nerd alert! Despite being out in the sun for 6 hours or so, I managed not to get sunburned (except for a small strip on my right ankle). I guess slathering on non-CVS brand sunscreen was a good call. Man, I love white water rafting. Not even the sun could bring it down.

Then the second phase of the day began. It started with beers on the bus. 12 people, 60 beers, and one bottle of whiskey. Do the math. It equals inebriation. An associate made a deck of cards out of post-it notes, and we played Kings and a drinking game to the movie "Red" (every time Bruce Willis kills someone, take a drink; every time a major character dies, take a shot). We were all feeling good by the time we got back to the office. One summer got pulled into a meeting with a partner. One associate had to sit in on a conference call. The rest of us went out to the bar. Here's where I remind myself never to drink Red Bull again. Jager-bombs aren't a good idea. Especially not after an early morning and a long day in the sun. An even worse idea: the Irish Trash Can. This is a drink our raft guide told us about, seemingly daring us to drink later on. So of course the four people who were on my raft and heard about the Irish Trash Can had to throw caution to the wind and order them. The drink is essentially a Long Island Iced Tea with blue curacao and a Red Bull, turning it green and making it a bombshell of disgustingly sweet caffeine and alcohol. Anyone who got a phone call or text message last night, that is why. It's been a while since I did something that plainly ridiculous with a drink, but luckily everything worked out well. Everyone was feeling good and chatting, and it was generally a good team building exercise. Did I mention that law has an unabashed drinking culture?

I didn't feel great this morning. At all. But I still was at work by 8:30, dutifully slogging through research in Portuguese. Google Translate is a miracle function, but not perfect and I still don't speak Portuguese, which made the morning's task quite frustrating. Try reading a foreign language on a headache sometime.

In new, old news: cover letters are awful.

Pretense

Monday our softball game looked like it might be rained out. It was a dreary morning, but it gave way to a sunny, lovely day, which I got to enjoy from the air conditioned artificiality of my office. At game time, the playing field was good to go. We beat the pants off the other team (not literally, Park Police might have had something to say about that), winning 20-6. Returning to the office, I stupidly followed Nick on the "shortest way" back, involving going through the middle of the field. Remember, it was raining, so the middle of the field was actually a mine field of mud. A mud field. About 3/4 of the way through the mud I had enough and stupidly decided to start running. That's how much got basically up to my knees, to say nothing of coating my shoes. I had to have a drink with K-Dawg who was in town, so it was dilemma time. Luckily, the firm has showers in the basement. And towels. And soap. Now that's convenience. Of course I didn't plan well enough for my walk back to my office from the shower, and ended up riding the elevator in my dress shoes and athletic shorts with two bemused janitors.

Tuesday evening was the infamous wine tasting at the firm. 9 wines: 3 white, 3 red, 3 mystery red. Lots of pretension ("Blackberries, currant, and some black cherry, definitely cherry"). The "mystery reds" involved a taste test to determine which was a zinfandel, a merlot, and a cabernet. Like I said, lots of pretension ("It has a...dusty finish"). Only 3 people guessed all three right, that's statistically worse than if everyone in the room had randomly guessed. It shows you how random (read: pretentious, yes that word has to be thrown around when discussing a wine tasting) it all is. After the official tasting portion of the wine tasting, the summers and a group of associates headed out to the bars. I have to say, it is pretty intimidating to watch the bartender hand out a dozen Mind Erasers followed by a few rounds of jello shots. Then on to the next bar to play flip cup. In a rare flash of brilliance, I left around midnight rather than sticking it out until the bitter end, which I am told was around 2 am. I did stay for long enough to see one associate storm out of the bar and call for her husband to follow her after a challenging team cheated at flip cup and heated words were exchanged. Luckily, I was not a part of any bad behavior and I was relatively alright the next morning. I actually showed up to work a bit before 9 and didn't have to close the door for a nap. I am told that many associates were not as lucky. Upon reflection, there were some people, largely women, who drank about as much as me and do not weigh nearly as much. They had particularly rough mornings. But my streak of minding myself at firm events is continuing. Halfway through the summer without a major social faux pas!!

The rest of the week was pretty mundane. My mid-summer performance review went pretty well. I didn't really get any constructive criticism, but the flip side is that nothing is wrong. Good thing I have not yet chosen to wear my dog costume and written a memo saying "Woof woof, bark woof bark. Yip."

Last night at the bar I waited literally 25 minutes for a bartender to notice me and place my drink order. Finally I ordered a cider and a whiskey soda - but he had to go downstairs to find me a cider. Then, when he got back up, he charged me $17 and moved on. It would have taken another half hour before I could argue with him about the price, so rather than protest I went on a profanity-laced tirade to my table. I felt better after that, and after the drink was safely in my stomach. But I can't decide if he was wholly incompetent or a brilliant strategist on behalf of the bar. I'm leaning towards the former, but you never know. For my revenge I didn't leave a tip - for the first time I think ever.

Also last night, I had mind-blowing donuts. I know you think most donuts are just donuts. But Ten Penh's donuts are something....special. They are outta this world delicious, topped with cinnamon sugar. It's like reinventing the donut wheel.

I don't think there are any good bagels in this city.

I get sunburned really easily. Like insanely easily. It's a problem. And I have been applying sunscreen, no matter how much I dislike the smell. Now it could be just because I wear the CVS brand sunscreen rather than shelling out the big bucks for a brand name (hellooooo Neutrogina). But I think it might be something else. Maybe I'm dehydrated, which makes it easier for the sun to...burn me. Sounds pretty flimsy. I know I am pale, this is ridiculous.

226

Working at the firm is kind of like having a quirky, rich uncle. Sometimes it's amusing, sometimes it's annoying, and occasionally you get fun things. Yesterday we got a happy hour (and, as part of that, to leave at 5 - more exciting?!). This week I've had an interesting project. And today we had a painful training.
The happy hour gave the summers more time to hang out and get to know each other. Surprisingly, I beat Chris at pool 2 out of 3 games. And after a few drinks, we found out from the recruiting coordinator how many people interviewed at our office that were winnowed down to the eventual 5 summer associates we have. It's a shocking number and points me towards "luck" as the answer to how I got here.
Today's training was for about Professional Development and setting SMART Goals. SMART is an acronym for Specific, ummmm Mandatory? Asinine? No, those are words that describe the training. Alright, I don't remember what the acronym is, but the woman leading it made us write down short-term goals and specific ways to accomplish them. She was physically in the room with us, so we had to play nice and look remotely interested. Then she went through the videoconference and made one or two people from each office say what they wrote. Everyone's goals were bland, legitimate work goals for the summer: "I want to attend a hearing on an issue I worked on, and I will accomplish this by speaking to the associate I am working with..." and "I want to get work from ten partners in my department." Except this one kid in the Boston office. He says, "I want to get married. Five year goal. And I will accomplish this by getting my girlfriend to move here, then..." before he got cut off. The woman in our office running the training was shocked. I want to buy him a beer when I meet him. If training lady hadn't been standing twelve feet from me, I would have burst out laughing. Way to give an answer as useless as the question!

I didn't really know what lawyers "do" all day, and I'm still not sure. I feel like that with a lot of professions. My major project this week has been reading a hyper-technical contract and essentially rewriting it in terms that the client signing the contract will understand. The contract was, of course, drafted by lawyers. Come to think of it, this is what happened: the client paid lawyers to do something, they did it obtusely, and now the client has to pay lawyers again to tell them what they did in the first place. When she first started, Rebecca described the job of a contractor as "You make problems, then you fix the problems you made." That sounds eerily similar. What a hilarious business model!
Granted, there really is a point to "legalese" and writing contracts in such technical language. If it weren't written that way, there would probably be a lot of loopholes and ambiguities. But I don't think I am doing too much that a regular person couldn't do. I think that law school just helps train us to focus more and not give up at pointlessly complex language.

Corporations is turning out to be an incredibly helpful class. Tax also.

Last Saturday night I was told that if I were a Star Wars character, I would be C-3P0. It was easily the worst part of my night. I was so dismayed. The next morning I was told I would be an Ewok. I don't know if that helps. I guess it does?

For once, I was polite on the escalator and it paid off. The down escalator was broken, so everyone had to climb down. The pace was pretty slow because there was a guy a few people ahead of me climbing fairly slowly. I contemplated cutting him and the other people by shooting down the left side, but decided against it. Then someone behind me did the left side route, and jostled the slow guy a little bit. Well, when we got to the end, it turned out the slow guy was slow because he walks with a freaking cane. I am so glad I (for once) was polite and wasn't some jerk making life harder for a guy with a cane.

I have been slacking on the updates hardcore. But it is my brief summer before work, so give me a break. I am in Boston for the week. I spent yesterday (Mothers' Day) with my mom. I had been traveling and had not yet procured a gift, so I warned her that I would need an hour with the car on Sunday before I could commence with official Mothers' Day ceremonies. After half an hour of sweating it out at Crate & Barrel, I remembered something she said she wanted: kitchen shears. I also got her a nice cold beverage travel container (something practical) and a set of colored porcelain measuring cups (something cute). I think I did pretty well overall. Could be worse, she could have gotten a macaroni necklace. I think she has received a few of those in my time.
Apparently the stores in the mall opened at noon, so I had to wait around for a bit before getting a gift. I clearly did not get the memo about opening at noon on Sundays. I mean, I know stores open late, but not that late. What about all the poor men out there who lack adequate planning skills and are forced to purchase presents the day of?! What about all the poor women out there who just received lovely flowers but do not have an adequate matching vase to put them in? What about all the people who need to purchase a milk frother for their Sunday brunch? Come on, think about it Crate & Barrel. You are not acting like a store of the people.

Friday I was in Baltimore for Nakul's recital. I thought he did a great job. He sang a nice little song called "If You've Only Got A Moustache," which you should totally check out. Before the recital I walked around the Inner Harbor. I got there on the Circulator, a free bus. It was around 3:30 on Friday afternoon, and there was a good deal of traffic as well as a lot of people on the Circulator. Halfway through the ride, this well-dressed man and two well-dressed women got on. It was pretty clear they had never ridden the Circulator before, and I am not positive that the man had ever taken public transportation before. He was shocked at how crowded the bus was and loudly inquired, "Don't you people have jobs?" When he realized other people could hear him he tried to play it off as a joke, but really he was just a pompous jerk. Later, I wound up next to him and the two women towards the back of the bus. He continued to comment about how long the ride took, how the bus kept stopping, and how he would certainly never use the bus again. Buddy, it's a free bus: you get what you paid for. Additionally, you look like an arrogant buffoon with no idea of how "the commoners" live. If you have such a problem with it, why don't you whip out your wallet and pay for a taxi cab. Or just drive your Rolls Royce to the Inner Harbor.

After Nak's recital, we went out to the Alehouse, where we did not pay for the bar tab. I had some good conversations, Nakul enjoyed the company of his friends, and BDP made hilarious conversation with the waitstaff (who had boyfriends, sadly for him). I must emphasize that none of the "children" (30 and unders at this point, just to be safe), paid the tab. Many of us wandered to another hole in the wall bar, where we imbibed unnecessary, cheap pints, and Stephanie consumed what she imagined to be the last olive in Baltimore (the first bar was out, and this was the last olive at the second bar).

Today I went with my mother to Woodman's, which claims to have invented the fried clam. Alright, they invented it. I don't know why I am skeptical, but I like to think it is a healthy skepticism. It was very New England, and I enjoyed it. I almost bought a small wooden figurine of a sailor from them, but I realized this was an unnecessary trinket, and I could just remind myself that I was a gritty New Englander in my mind. Super gritty. Nothing but true grit up in law school.

I did not fail Tax!

I finished "All the Pretty Horses" last night. That Cormac McCarthy sure knows how to write. Now I get to watch the movie, if only so I can say, "The book was better."

I seem to have shipped up to Boston

Here I am, back in Boston for the "holidays." I woke up early this morning to catch a MARC commuter train to Baltimore. And from Baltimore I was to drive up with Nakul. Well my karma from waking up on time did not translate into good train schedule luck. The 7:30 train was delayed indefinitely and the 8:30 was outright canceled. I managed to get on an Amtrak and get to Baltimore, which was magical in itself because I had not yet had any coffee. While on the train, I almost kicked the guy in front of me who was listening to a playlist from his phone without any earphones plugged in. In fairness, I probably would have equally vindictive thoughts even if I had coffee, but it made my attitude was quite pronounced this morning. Nakul and I ended up making great time from Baltimore (6 hours) while avoiding most traffic and bad weather.

Since I last updated I've done a whole lot of nothing. Unless you count being at the bar as something. Then I've done a lot of something. For some reason all of my classmates were quite anxious to go drinking after finishing finals. Well who was I to say no? The post-finals party was pretty epic. I will remember it for my relative sobriety compared to everyone else's complete lack of let's say self-control. The word for it is mess. Hilarious mess that I can laugh about even if no one else will remember. Some drunk 1L kept buying everyone drinks, me included. Another drunk 1L bought everyone shots. As I was leaving, my drunk friend tried to buy me a shot which I politely declined. The problem was that he didn't just buy one shot for me, nor two shorts for us to have together. Rather, he bought five shots because he seemed to think that was a rational choice at that point of the night. He spent the next ten minutes trying to pawn some off because it was almost 2 am and (surprise surprise) most people were in no shape for ripping whiskey shots.

4 am is not a good time of day to be awake for. Next time I think its a good idea to play beer dice after closing down a bar, I need to think again.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I have not slept well in a good long while. Between regular sleeping issues, a month of finals studying where I have problems shutting down my brain, bar nights, and early mornings, it has been a long haul. I am looking forward to at least three good nights of sleep this vacation. That's my goal. And if my cats wake me up, I will give them the crappy cat food for the entire time I am here, so help me. (Good threat, right?) Three nights - think I can do it? I am honestly not sure if I can. It's a wonder they don't make game shows out of these situations.

I shall be released

I guess all that not having school caught up with me. I got sick this weekend, just in time for Eva's visit. Nothing too bad, just a cold. Saturday I was pretty much designated to bed. Sunday I felt a bit better. Today even better, though still not 100% yet. Of course I had the brilliant idea to work out today. After some weights and 15 minutes on the treadmill I felt like I wanted to vomit and die. I didn't. Ignoring your body's protests because you feel like a fat, lazy piece of crap, now that's what I call going rogue!

It was great to have one class on Friday. Property. Contracts was canceled Friday because my professor was at a conference. 1 out of 14 scheduled classes for the week. And my professor was 15 minutes late to class because of weather-related traffic. Good ratios. It'll be interesting to jump back into a full week of classes after that. Also, it's great to see that after a week of nothing, my Torts professor from last semester still has not managed to get us our grades yet. It has been 2 full months now. But why rush? People don't need to use their GPA for anything like applying to jobs.

Having one class on Friday clearly did not stop people from going out on Thursday. There was a concert by some law school bands with horrible law-pun names (Restatement of Rock and Motion to Quash). They were cover bands, and the entire affair was generally fun, though it definitely had the flavor of a high school battle of the bands. Afterward bar review was next door, at a gay sports bar called "Nellie's." The name should have tipped us off. But the dudes making out all over the place was a dead giveaway. A gay sports bar?

In Olympic news, I don't care that much about the winter olympics. I hear Canada messed up the opening ceremonies pretty badly. Eh? And Celine Dion wasn't there. Epic fail. I am not the biggest figure skating fan, particularly not couples figure skating where all of the women look like drag queens in P-Town combined with Las Vegas hookers and the men look like they are in gay sailor costumes designed by a blind fourth grade girl who will never sit at the popular table - not even out of pity for being blind. Come to think of it, if they ever really lose steam, I'd like to see a mash up of fashion week and the winter games. Just to see what they come up with. I'm sure they could find a network to broadcast that - Tool Academy has a second season - how bad could my idea be?
Also, in speed skating they never look like they are actually trying and it pisses me off. They keep their hands behind their backs; it's aerodynamic. Forget that. Pump those arms. Work. Sweat, cry, bleed. This is the friggin' olympics, not Sunday afternoon at the ice rink. I want to know you are trying to earn that medal with everything you've got. Skate like a fresh apple pie is just out of your grasp. (Substitute whatever ethnic food is appropriate for non-American competitors there. For Canadians I guess it is cheap prescription drugs. For Tibet-ians it is freedom - psyche! Plus they don't have an Olympic team.)

I've had "Thunder Road" stuck in my head since Thursday. What a good song.

Writing writing on my bike

I woke up this morning with a sore throat which has gradually receded over the course of the day. But it was a good enough excuse for me not to work out today. Hm. I'm becoming slightly concerned about my own laziness. Well, I did a lot of schoolwork, writing about 6 pages of my memo. So all that is due tomorrow, which is all that's important. I also applied to two jobs. That seems like a lot for a day where I didn't get out of bed until noon.

Thursday I went to Melting Pot, a fondue restaurant, with Jason, Rachel, and Josh. It was restaurant week, so we got a 4 course meal for "cheap." Courses went cheese, salad, meat, chocolate. It was good, but not my favorite. I mean, I wouldn't go there regularly. All the food was high quality, there were tons of options, and it tasted good (particularly the fillet mignon). But I had to work so damn hard for it. I cook every day for myself. I don't want to go out and pay a crapton of money to cook for myself too. I could just go to the grocery store, buy pretty much the same stuff, and then cook it in a slightly less-efficient pot of boiling whatever I'm dipping it in. Or I could buy a fondue pot and act like I'm so cool and retro, then never use it because I clearly would prefer other food to fondue. No disrespect to the restaurant. It's an experience I'm glad to have, and it was delicious. But, paradoxically, I don't want to do it again really.

After Melting Pot I went to bar review. The highlight was clearly this girl in my class doing the dance to "Single Ladies." She was spot on. I mean, she was no Beyonce. Not even a little close. But still, that's impressive. And no one is Beyonce.

This weekend Eva came to visit, which was awfully nice of her. Granted, her sister also lives here, so I can accuse her of mixed motives, but that's just fine. Friday night we went out with some fun people to Sign of the Whale. It's a nice bar close by, that I've actually never been to. So that was a good experience. In addition to the regular top 40 crap that everywhere plays they played a good deal of 80's music. You could say it shook me all night long. Until 3 am when I got jumbo slice with Carissa. Always a good choice. $4 for basically a quarter of a pizza. How could you not at 3 am? There's no downside. Also, at Sign of the Whale, it was a bartender's last night and she clearly did not care about anything. She gave away free drinks to her friends (not just any free drinks, Patron and Johnnie Walker), and charged arbitrarily low prices ($10 for two shots and a beer, you've got a deal!). Not to mention, she was actually incredible at being a bartender - I watched her make the fastest Long Island Iced Tea ever. I was impressed.

Saturday I went out to a party in Virginia. Really? Virginia? Didn't the secede? That's gross. Actually it wasn't bad. It was pretty fun. It's Beirut, not beer pong, though. Most people are confused, I've noticed. There's more to Saturday than that, I'm sure, but I can't think of it at the moment.

Imperial Stormtroopers

Success! I finally got to have a good, quality Star Wars conversation with people at school that I didn't even initiate! I didn't even have to look like the only nerd! It was inspired by this movie:

http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1920944

I recommend it. I talked about my ambition to attend class dressed as an Imperial Stormtrooper and one girl actively encouraged it. She actually said she would give me between $15-20 if I did it. Fantastic. As true Star Wars fans do, we all agreed that Empire is the best movie. Made some nerdy references. I refrained from talking about IG-88 this time (that's a bounty hunter droid, for you lesser nerds). And the conversation even got to Lord of the Rings. I am now, more than ever, motivated to spend an entire day watching the extended versions of all the LotR movies consecutively. Matt and I never actually got around to it. Some day, dammit. But it's nice knowing I'm not the only out of the closet nerd at school.

Last night I ended up going to bar review at an aptly named bar named George. You'll never guess where in DC it is (Hint: Georgetown is an area of DC...). I went in crappy jeans, sneakers, and my Red Sox cap. When I got there there was a guest list, people in suits, and classy stuff all around. Whoopsies. But I kind of liked being the person who was clearly not uptight in the bar. While there were a lot of things that screamed class in that bar, there were also things that gave me pause. Here's a perfect example: $3 PBR's as a drink special. A $3 beer special is on the expensive side (and every other drink was minimum $5), yet the special is PBR, which is the opposite of class. It was a conundrum. It got crowded pretty quickly and there were a lot of non-law school students there, so it wasn't your typical bar review. I also became an old man this year and got tired early. Plus the Red Sox lost, so I didn't have motivation to stay out that late. I awoke to the news of Obama's Nobel Peace Prize. What? Confused. For now, I'm looking forward to the weekend. And go Red Sox.

Dick Dastardly

Baseball is a fantastic sport. I am so excited for the Red Sox and the postseason. Pardon me, I am wicked excited. Wicked. I'm gonna throw the ball wicked hahd.

At school this is kind of the week of impending doom. Through some confusion I didn't hand in my outline for Memo 2 on time. But it's ungraded and my professor understands, so it's ok. But that's not a great start to the memo. Now I'm trying to get ahead on the memo this weekend so that I can study for my Torts midterm all week next week. And by all week I mean in addition to our regular classwork. No big deal, right? Ahhh. That's why impending doom. But I can't be too worried about the midterm, particularly when my professor names a character in the situation presented "Dick Dastardly." At least he did that in last year's midterm, of which we have a copy, but of course I have not looked at yet. We'll get to that in good time. A week is enough to study for a 1 hour test, right? Well it'd better be.

Yesterday I was planning on working on Memo 2 after classes, but I planned to meet up for a drink with my godfather's daughter's ex-boyfriend. No joke-that's the connection. His name is Sam. Actually, one of his paintings is in the hall of my house. He's a good deal older than me, I think he helped babysit me when I was like 9, but no matter. Now we are both of legal drinking age and met up during happy hour, which makes any social situation more likely to be a success. And a success it was (not because I was drunk, I wasn't). We talked for a while and then a friend of his from the Peace Corps came, who was cool too. Yeah, Sam did Peace Corps in Turkmenistan. That's a real place I'm told. Apparently it is home to a brutal totalitarian dictatorship. Sweet. Sam's been in DC for 3 months working as a journalist covering nuclear energy policy, in which he has no particular background. But he likes his job and he has a job, so good for him. We talked about shoes and ships and ceiling wax and cabbages and kings. And other things which are more relevant. Sam's a cool guy whose done a lot of stuff, and, very importantly, he's not a law school student or lawyer, so it was a good time for me. Also it was at the Big Hunt which is the most normal bar in Dupont Circle. Because it is Dupont it is clearly not a dive bar, but at least it tries to be. You can't really be a dive bar when everyone (except me) is wearing a collared shirt. But at least they don't put up trendy photos or make everything leather or new-age in some way. Overall I'm a fan.

It actually makes me miss hipsters. I'm not a hipster, but sometimes I like having them around. I'm sympathetic to their attitude. And I like watching them be too cool for everyone else. Also messenger bags.

Right, hanging out with Sam. Basically we had a couple beers, ate some burgers (half price burger night!), and did normal, non-stressy things. I hope to do it again some time. Also, we sat on the patio where Sam and his friend (damn, wish I remembered his name...he's Brazilian and not Thiago?) pretty much chain smoked the entire time. For the first hour after I left all I could smell was smoke, and I was convinced I smelled like a pack of Marlboros. I made Anat smell me and then smell my coat, but amazingly there was not a trace of smoke on me. Crazy. Maybe cigarettes really are magical. Probably not though. Also, we got approached by some guy promoting Camel cigarettes who suckered me into giving him my email address by promising me a free Camel zippo lighter. Of course I got to see the lighter after he had all my info. Then he immediately peaced out. Hrmm. Well, turns out the lighter looks awesome, but doesn't come with any lighter fluid. Awesome, that's how I like my lighters. Jackass.

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.

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.

Here's a good idea

The first night of law school orientation the entire class was invited out to a bar called Third Edition. It's a trendy bar in Georgetown with two levels, a live DJ, and an outside Tiki bar (apparently because of the palm trees and kayaks on the wall). I would have renamed this bar the Trade-off Bar. You either had to be inside where the air conditioning was blasting as much as the music was or outside where they were venting the hot air and simply standing was reason enough to perspire. Essentially it was a choice between being able to hear people while putting them off because of your sweat, or being nice and cool yet having to lean in and ask "What did you say?" every two sentences. It was not ideal for meeting our classmates.

Even less of a good idea was dancing. Everyone who was there (I think) was from school. So you would have thought that they would be smart enough not to even approach the dance floor where certain embarrassment was waiting for them. You certainly thought they would be smart enough not to dance in an incredibly risque manner with strangers, aka people who will see you in class next week. You were wrong. This happened. And people watched. And I can only hope that it was embarrassing for them. Of course it was a nice opportunity for the rest of us to lean on the bar and bond over how we were all glad we did not have poor enough judgement to grind with a stranger to a Pitbull song with the possibility of sitting next to them tomorrow.

I spent at least fifteen minutes talking about my disapproval with some people I had just met. I also spent a long time meeting people while sweating profusely at the Tiki bar. Turns out most people are older than me, yet they do not know more than me about what to expect at law school. I did feel slightly stigmatized for being so comparatively, but it's not exactly something I can help. Plus people said President Kennedy was too young when he became president, and look at him, he's...ummm dead. Oops.

Mostly people talked about law school rankings, LSAT's, where they were from, and where they were living currently. I'm sure I had the exact same conversation with about seven people. But I think that's the nature of orientations. We don't really have common experiences yet, so we just tell each other facts about ourselves hoping that will spark a conversation that is more interesting. So far most people I talk about college with either say "Oh, do you know _____?" which I inevitably do not, or they say "Never heard of it. Where's that?" They aren't the most interesting conversations I've ever had. I have tried to limit my who-do-you-know-from-college game playing with other people. So far I've only done it with one person and been slightly successful. And we actually had a fairly interesting conversation about things other than undergrad institutions and hometowns. So I'd call that a success.

As far as the people I have met go, very few people are completely awkward, which is a nice change from college. Of course it makes me guarded, because I certainly have the potential for awkwardness of large proportions. So I certainly haven't tried to make friends by asking people what Star Wars movie is the best and yelling at them until they agree it is Empire. I was talking with a guy named Matthew for a while and we exchanged concerned looks when some kid was yelling about how he had classes on Friday and was super pissed and a bunch of trivial other stuff that I don't remember because I didn't care. Hopefully I can at least get some sort of cynical mocking rapport going with some people. After all, it is one thing I am good at and used to. Bottom line so far: meeting new people kinda sucks and making new friends is a difficult, awkward process.