First Day of Work - Dun Dun Dun

Today was my first day of work as a summer associate. For the hype and varying anxiety levels leading up to today, I spent most of the day in a conference room listening to orientation speeches. I have a summer class of 5 and I will be working mainly with two associates. The other summer associates ("summers") seem friendly and social. The associates seem eager to get to know us and help us learn the ropes. We were served breakfast and lunch in the conference room in between meeting partners, associates, and various administrators. We are given access to all kinds of cool things like secretaries, paralegals, mail services, records services, IT, and other things you would expect to find. Of course we had an orientation session relating to each one of these. After a building tour (we have showers in the basement!?) we were shown our offices.
Perks include an office with windows (and locks), a blackberry, a laptop and extra screen, swag with the firm's logo, lunches with associates, and social events. Oh, and experience.
Today, I was worried about not having a briefcase. How will I transport my briefs (read: glasses, packed lunches, and books)? Turns out the firm had it covered: one of the major pieces of swag waiting in my office was a briefcase. This is second only to the beach bag with firm logo emblazoned towel.
So, the first day finishes. Honestly, it was kind of awkward, but what first day isn't? The summers sort of felt each other out and tried to get a feel for the associates and the culture of the office (which is pretty relaxed - suits are the exception, not the rule). We were all focused, extra polite, and extra conscientious. The building tour included so much door holding that even the most chivalrous knight would have gotten tired of it; and the firm-sponsored happy hour after work saw summers have no more than 2 or 3 beers each.

There is a conference room across the hall from my office. There is a painting on the wall of the conference room positioned so that it can be seen from my office and my desk. The painting is, for lack of a better description, kind of creepy. It is a scene of an older woman looking at a picture album in front of some big windows. Why? Why would this be mounted on the wall of a law firm's conference room looking into my office? I will try to take and post a picture of this painting if I can take one discretely. I named the woman Lucille (perhaps an Arrested Development homage) and decided that she will be my thinking buddy. I will turn to her in difficult situations where I need to mull over a problem. Lucille will bring me wisdom - and creepiness.

The recruiting partner told us a story of a summer who was surprisingly given an offer. The summer had a few drinks before dinner at a firm-sponsored social event. At dinner, he was seated next to a fairly senior partner who was described as "gentlemanly" and perhaps southern. The summer finished his meal but was apparently still hungry. He began taking food off the partner's plate next to him and eating it. The partner was astounded, as were all the summers and associates listening to the story. I think there will be great stories from my firm.

There is probably more, but I did not sleep well last night and awoke at 6:30 this morning in an attempt to get into a new routine. So that is all for now.

Get A Room

For some odd and unknown reason I had an angry day today. Maybe it was the unoriginal, poorly written note I had to read for journal. Maybe it was the weather combined with my lack of a sense of accomplishment. Or maybe it was the couple across from me in the coffee shop who could not keep their hands off each other. I had to fight the strong urge to say, "Get a room! I am trying to read about internet privacy in the European Union and all I can see is you dirty hippies making out all over the place."

I had a free song download from Amazon (apparently for being such a good customer?) and couldn't think of anything to use it on. So I ended up with "Black and Yellow." As a result I constantly have that song stuck in my head and hate myself a little bit. Just about anything could be substituted for the words "black and yellow." Kerry said a teacher at her school made a song called "Math and Reading" to the beat. Erica mentioned something similar, the title of which I cannot recall at present. I want to make a lunch song called "Swiss and Turkey." Come to think of it, that could also be a geography song.

No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain is on Netflix Instant. This might take a while. I'm already going through Modern Family and Parks and Recreation. This summer, at Shaked's insistence and my interest, How I Met Your Mother will be added to the list. Also, I am currently reading Anthony Bourdain's book "Medium Raw." It is not as good as "Kitchen Confidential," which I highly recommend, but it is still amusing. Bourdain is probably more opinionated that I, and certainly more foul-mouthed. He is also a much better cook and a much better eater, so he can do pretty much whatever he wants as far as I am concerned.

People need to stop sending me links on gchat. I am beginning a new policy or rarely opening them. This stems from my previous experience of rarely being amused by the links I open. While the internet has many virtues (like permitting me to write this blog), it also has many problems.

Get the Suit that Fits

To prepare for work this summer, I went outlet shopping with Enoch and Reza all the way out in Leesburg. Where? I don't know, I hadn't been either, but it was pretty nice. I got a few things: a couple of shirts, socks, a spatula. But the big purchase was a suit at the Joseph A Bank outlet. I had my doubts, but the fast-talking salesman assured me the suit would be easily tailored to fit me. I forgot a cardinal rule: never trust the fast-talking salesman. Upon returning to DC, I took my newly purchased suit to my local Joseph A Bank for tailoring. The tailor and the salesman took one look at it on me and pronounced it the wrong size. For a minute or two I was fairly unhappy - I was either going to have to work something out with the tailor or I was going to have to go all the way back to Leesburg (where?) to return it. I was mentally trending towards the latter option when the salesman thrust a correctly sized suit in my direction and told me to put it on. I did and expressed my regret over owning the wrong size when the salesman said he was just going to "exchange" the suits. There was roughly a $300 price difference between the purchased suit and the suit that was my actual size. But this did not stop the (slow-talking?) salesman - he was happy to help me out by "exchanging" suits while bemoaning my initial incorrectly-sized one. He did everything but admonish the first salesman. To this second salesman, my hat is off. I certainly thank him and I put in a good word for Joseph A Bank (which may be slowly going out of business), although not for its outlet.

I do not put in a good word for Calvin Klein's "Body" line of dress pants. Reza described the pair I tried on as looking more like tights. What's your deal Calvin? Are you designing clothing for starving Russian peasants? Most normal shaped men, plus me, cannot fit into those without looking foolish.
Another negative from the trip. At the Levi outlet, I was unable to continue my shopping due to the multitude of foreigners with vastly different conceptions of personal space. A man literally stepped on me without noticing while trying to buy jeans. How do you not notice that? How can you be so self-centered that you refuse to see or in this case feel other people around you? Sometimes I wish I had an airhorn to announce my presence. Or a personal lighthouse. Ships would never crash on me that way. How's that for a superpower!?

I went to the Nats game tonight. In an epic battle between two bitter rivals, the Washington Nationals shocked the Pittsburgh Pirates with a come from behind victory. There was plentiful sarcasm.

This Is the Tale

I tried to write about it the night it happened, but I was too full of sugar: Ron, Shaked and I went to Max Brenner and ate a chocolate pizza. Yeah, that's exactly what it sounds like. And we got it "loaded." A sweet pizza-type crust topped with melted chocolate, bananas, hazelnuts, marshmallows, and peanut butter sauce. It was delicious and sent me into an immediate sugar high as we walked down Newbury Street in an attempt to walk off the sugar. It was like trying to sober up in a way. I liked the chocolate pizza more than the Chihuly exhibit at the MFA that we had just seen. I can only speak for myself, but I think all three of us were giddy with chocolate. It was one of those experiences that you can say you had, but I doubt I will ever eat chocolate pizza again.

Last night was my last night in Boston. I went with a lot of people to 90's night. That's a nice, classic activity and was a lot of fun. My biggest issue is that I kept singing the new SNL Digital Short song over the 90's music that was playing. It is incredible how many songs easily fit with "This is the tale of Captain Jack Sparrow." That song has been stuck in my head for four days, thanks Michael Bolton. I am far from unique in this addiction. I even showed the clip to my mom who was amused despite never having seen Pirates of the Carribean. I also watched Drunk History with my mom (she did not appreciate it adequately) and Julia Child via Hulu (she appreciated this a lot more - weird).
At 90's night I reinvigorated a game of assassin that has been dead for at least 4 years and "assassinated" Foxy and Leah. I think I am currently winning that game, if only because no one else is playing. But that cannot stop my competitive spirit.

I had Anna's Taqueria twice. Still what is missing in the universe for me. Following my first Anna's outing (with Erica) we went to get ice cream. The store had a flavor called "Chocolate Ascendance" and I asked the girl at the register what was in it. This girl could not have been more unenthusiastic. She had to work give off the aura of unhappiness. She answered me, "It is like...chocolate ice cream with like...chocolate...brownies....and...chocolate...like...chips....and like...basically it's just a lot of chocolate." Erica died laughing at this girl once we sat down. I wanted to put her on suicide watch or at least ask her if she wanted to talk about anything. Come on, you work at an ice cream store: just how bad can your life be? Are you unhappy? Have some ice cream! We all scream for it.

Hrm, I just realized there has been a lot of chocolate in this post/the past week of my life. A trend to continue?

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."

Party at the White House

Tonight I ended up going to the White House to celebrate the assassination of Osama bin Laden. Admittedly, I find it somewhat perverse to celebrate an assassination. But what he stood for was so antithetical to the United States, that his killing is important as a point of national morale and pride as well as as a historical event. I feel that whatever semblance of closure this gives for the September 11th attacks is a good thing. I am also outraged that he was apparently discovered in a mansion in Pakistan. He could have had his own episode of MTV Cribs. This illustrates a huge problem between the U.S. and Pakistan, to say the least.
All that aside, I feel very good about America tonight and proud to be an American. We did something we are very good at: kicking ass and taking names. A number of times at the "party" outside the White House I heard someone spontaneously say, "We shot that [naughty expletive involving mothers] in the face!" I am not the only one who would love to see an interview with the Navy Seal, or whatever special forces member, who put a bullet in bin Laden. I also am waiting for the cinematic depiction of the epic firefight in a Pakistani mansion, coming soon to a theater near you.

My favorite comment of the night was, "I hope they stuff him and put him up in the Smithsonian." Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Red White and Blue Shirt, but I don't think that is going to happen.

I found it fantastically amusing that people were smoking pot and drinking beer 200 yards away from the White House. Secret Service seemed a little nervous at the spontaneous gathering. This was the first time I saw snipers on the President's roof. Now there's a heck of a job. But most of the law enforcement that happened involved pulling drunk revelers out of trees and down from lamp posts on Pennsylvania Avenue.

In the crowd I happened to bump into a bunch of people from school. Quite lucky for such a large crowd. My friend Joe was enthused at the prospect of Obama coming onto the White House lawn and shotgunning a victory beer. This surprisingly did not happen.
Besides singing patriotic songs, the crowd's favorite chants seemed to be, "USA. USA," and "Na-na-na-na. Na-na-na-na. Hey hey hey. Goodbye." The tastefulness of the latter is questionable, yet it is still sickly amusing. There was a (unfortunate?) lack of "Team America" singing, but some still got used.

What a night.

America!!!

President Obama has not spoken yet, so this still qualifies as breaking news. Osama Bin Laden has been killed. And America is awesome!

America vs. Terrorism: game, set, match. Right?

I am considering running down to the White House to prove my patriotism. Think I can get a red white and blue tattoo before the President makes a statement? We are the best!!!