Sunday, September 16, 2007

Harmful & Unwanted.

Memo to All Deer in Headlights:
When the professor calls on you, then goes off on a tangent, he is waiting for you to look it up. At this point, you have three (four?) options:

1. Look it up. Pretend it was in your notes all along, you just take SO many notes, it was hard to find. But you're good. Really.

2. Look at the gunner's screen in front of you. Read it word-for-word off of that. Pretend it was your idea all along.

3. Get up while his back is turned. Run. Pretend it never happened.

4. Fake your own death.

Law School certainly does involve a lot of pretending, doesn't it?
But just so we're clear: saying, "Well it all depends on your point of view...or what you mean by...." is not actually an option. That trick wore out in 6th grade debate, so, while it may sound very academic and all-knowing in your head, when it actually comes out of your mouth it sounds more like "I don't make my own decisions. I am afraid. Do you think if I am non-committal and mince over wordings, someone will mistake me for Bill Clinton?"

Bill knows what he means by "sex," he knows what he means by "point of view," and he can do the crossword in 10 minutes. Blindfolded. With his teeth. You, my friend, are no Bill Clinton.
Aside: You are no Karl Rove either- lets not be partisan about this, shall we?

So say it at your own peril- but I will kill you with my own highlighter if you do. Twice. The pink one. You've been warned.

Speaking of class time:
The Evil Mouse got called on twice (unprepared!) last week, and I smirked uncontrollably. I am aware that this is in terribly bad taste, and does not cultivate a spirit of camaraderie, etc. I am also aware that, but for the flippant will of Fate, and a few fervent "ohdeargodpleasenopleasenopleaseno"s, we could have been sharing a slice of that humble pie. Lord knows I hate sharing.

As a result of the near-miss, I spent the weekend catching up on all the reading I would have been doing last week, if I hadn't been watching America's Next Top Model/emailing Funny Mean Friend/eating ice cream/sleeping.

From the wisdom of Sunday night, I can see that you can't really catch up on material quite as quickly here as you can in undergrad- lesson learned. My weekend sucked harder than a Dyson. However, I managed to stay focused for a pretty extended period of time, learned a (little) bit, and evaded the drinking crowd, who I can't really keep up to speed with anyway.

Things I learned this Weekend (15 Minute Breaking News Edition):
1. Do not have sex with Magic Johnson. If you do, sue him for battery.

2. If you tell a hospital to use only your family's blood for transfusions, and they don't, and you get AIDS: it will be a Bad Day for the hospital.

3. When parking your boat, don't be an ass. You break it, you bought it.

4. Nutella is an exceedingly useful condiment, not only on saltines, but also on: pretzels, ice cream (duh!), pop-tarts, fingers, pretty much anything else.

5. OJ Simpson never really does get tired of being in the legal limelight.

Breaking News in My World
Am going to be a fatty, fatty, two by four before Winter Break. Also, potentially, translucent. Will these two things cancel out? If my fat is translucent, will no one know it is there? If it falls in the forest, but no one sees- did it really happen? Or can I go to my class reunion pretending I didn't eat Chinese food & orange creamsicles for 10 weeks straight?

I also started a wishlist, for anyone who is keeping track. This is on it. This is not. Luckily, this is all just speculation, as I'm confident the terrible, terrible things I've been thinking lately will kick me in the Karmic teeth come the holiday season, and I'll be sitting in the cold with nothing but coal for company- not the sparkly version.

I'm out. Roommate's cat has developed the charming habit of absconding with my laundry & leaving it throughout the house, so I've got some pickup to do.


All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson