Six reasons why I complain sometimes.

Apologies times a million for slacking.  Being a grown-up is hard.

If you talk to me for like, 5 seconds, you know I'm in law school.  If you talk to me for 15 seconds, you'll hear me bitch about it.  I'm not sure I've made myself clear on why it's so difficult, so I'd like to walk you through some reasons why I pretty much feel like I've been steamrollered during every waking hour (and sometimes sleeping ones...no that's cool, I definitely wanted to dream about Torts.)

1. Your whole grade for a class depends on 3-4 hours
No, really.  Your WHOLE. GRADE. is the final exam.  There's no midterm, there's no problem sets, there's no "but I went to literally every office hour you had please do not give me that grade I will do anything."  Every single exam you have is like the Olympics.  Yes, Michael Phelps was in like a trillion events and won all of them because he's a pot-smoking champion with titanium ligaments and a dolphin heart or whatever.  But let me state: they were all SWIMMING events.  It's not like he had to go re-train for every single event; he still remembers how to swim.  Having a torts final and a criminal law final and a civil procedure final is like doing a race involving the butterfly stroke, but then immediately having to go do a shotput event, and then finishing strong with some rhythmic gymnastics. (Probably that hoop thing, too, what the hell is that even I DON'T KNOW.)  You also have to train for all of them simultaneously.

2. You can't miss class
Okay, you CAN.  I'm not saying if a bus hits you on your way to class that you need to pick your pancreas up off the ground and suck it up for 80 minutes, but barring OUTBREAK!-like illness, you have to go to class.  This is for several reasons.  One is that they take attendance every day, because if you miss enough classes, you legit don't get credit for the class, because the professor can move to exclude you from the final. Yes, on paper that sounds awesome (WHAT NO FINAL BEST DAY EVER) but really it means "oh hey champ do errythang again."  Because you probably can't graduate without whatever class that is.  The other major reason is things won't make sense in your notes.  Possibly ever.  You read for class in order to have the professor tell you where you are right (the facts of the case, sometimes), and where you are wrong (everywhere, about everything).  Yes, you can get notes from other people, but they will never look like YOUR notes, and you'll always be a little more confused about that topic/set of cases than you will about the other days. 
And this leads me to...

3. Read for class or you're f***ed
No really.  This is not like undergrad where it was better if you read, but not a disaster if you didn't.  You won't understand a damn thing.  And even if you don't read, it's not like "oh okay we covered it, now I don't have to read at all," it's more like "oh sweet now I have to do it at a later time."  Class is where you go to get your outside work clarified.  No, there is no homework: you don't have to turn in a book report called Our Friend The Commerce Clause.  But you HAVE to stay on top of the reading.  IT NEVER ENDS.  IT NEVER SLOWS DOWN. THE CASES ARE LIKE THAT WILDEBEEST HERD IN THE LION KING.  DON'T BE MUFASA.  THAT WAS WAAAAY TOO SOON BUT GOSH DARN DO I LOVE CAPSLOCK.

There's yet another reason why you should keep up with your reading.

4. You're gonna get cold-called
Let me see if I can paint a picture for you.  You're at a production of Cats. (Hang in there, it gets worse.) You're like 20 minutes in or so, and you're kind of lost, mildly bored and moderately uncomfortable.  They keep using unfamiliar words like "jellicle." You just want to call your mommy and tell her you love her.

And then the Rum Tum Tugger pulls you onstage and makes you sing "Memory."
Everyone is now looking at you, and you'd better not screw up the lyrics, or Grizabella's gonna write down in her beat-up notebook that you weren't prepared.  And someone dressed in a catsuit is now judging you, along with a bunch of people who paid money to see Cats.

Okay, so my analogy fell apart a little there, but you get it, hopefully.  It's scary and embarrassing and it keeps happening just like the show was on Broadway for like 15 years or some ridiculous thing.  

5. Gunners
Bigger, badder, more irritating version of That Guy/Girl.  This person will not shut up.  This person will make your class experience 10 percent more entertaining and 90 percent more filled-with-plots-to-murder. (Protip: don't tell me about them.  That's premeditation and it's gonna ratchet up your conviction.  Also protip: don't murder.)
If you don't know who the gunner is in your class...it's you.

6. Significant portions of school exist because horrible things happened and you're reminded of them constantly
Much of constitutional law exists because certain people who happened to be in power decided other people didn't matter as much.  A lot of torts law exists because horrible accidents happened to people and the only possible way to even come close to fixing it involved money.  All of crim exists because people did ATROCIOUS things to other people.  All the gradations of homicide and assault exist because lawmakers had to decide just how horrible you have to be for first degree versus second degree.  This "people are mean" element doesn't show up in every part of law, but it happens often.  And if you let it get to you, it REALLY gets to you.

If you hear me complain, this is why, or at least most of why.  Law school be HARD, and there are days I feel like I'm barely hacking it, but hopefully you'll understand why I sometimes gchat you saying "COME RESCUE ME PLEASE THIS IS HARD AND I AM WEAK."

Memoryyyy, all alone in the moooonlight.... 

Collection of things that bug me.

There is seriously less cohesion in this post than there is in a drop of water (actually, that's not a great comparison...), but there are several things that I've been thinking about lately and they should get said.

1. Girl power/gender roles.
One thing I've heard in my life is "if girls are the same as guys, then why can't I hit a girl?"  Okay, seriously? Because hitting people is shitty behavior. Don't hit girls, don't hit guys, don't hit turtles.  Why is this even an argument?  "If a girl is pissing me off, why can't I punch her in the face?  You say you have the same rights as guys, then why can't  I punch you?"  SHUT. UP.  No one is fighting for the right to get punched in the face.  This is why it really bugged me that they edited Snooki's getting punched but not Gary from Teen Mom getting hit by Amber.  It's not about size comparisons.  It's not about men  and women.  People hitting other people is horrible and shouldn't happen regardless of who the people are.  So stop using this as an argument.


2. "Only The Good Die Young."
Everything about this song bugs me.  I still don't get the title: if you're "bad" you get to live longer?  Logically that's the only conclusion you can come to: just because you're young doesn't mean you're going to die. (I teach formal logic for an LSAT class; don't judge me.)  I gots me lots o' favorite lines for this song.

"You Catholic girls start much too late."  If you opt out of something that's supposed to be fun, you get a whole bunch of awesome names tacked onto you: frigid, wet blanket, Mom, lame, and my personal favorite, "don't know what you're missing."  I'll start when I want to, thank you, Mr. Joel.  When this song makes me angry I like to think that "Virginia" is sitting there saying (a la Meg Ryan as Sally), "I never considered not sleeping with you a sacrifice."

"They showed you a statue, told you to pray/they built you a temple and locked you away"
No. "They showed me a loving God, asked if I wanted to pray/I chose to be Catholic, now please go away."

"I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints/the sinners are much more fun" makes me so boiling angry I don't even know how to talk about it.   If this line makes sense to you, you've completely misunderstood exactly what makes the "saints" awesome.

3. Bruno Mars
Seriously this is awful.  If I hear anything about him going back and forth from catching grenades to not feeling like doing anything and letting things hang loose, I will hang something else.  It's not "cute in its simplicity," it's lazy songwriting.

4. Talking about literary genres you don't get
Since I'm a sci-fi and fantasy buff, that's the obvious conclusion here, but this can be applied to anything.  First of all, don't say "I don't like [type of book]" if you haven't read any, or if you've read one, or whatever.  You don't like that book, or that author, fine.  It's probs not the genre.  I'm not a big chick lit person, but I've read some pretty awesome entries in that category so I can't exactly summarily dismiss errythang.  I read Twilight for this reason. 

Second, you're not better than me because you've decided my genre of choice is low-brow.  I hate the Twilight series, but as long as you're not making your life decisions on the plot, knock yourself out! And in the same vein, you can go ahead and criticize what I read if you've read it and hated it, but you're not better than me because you're reading God-knows-what and I'm quoting Ender's Game.  

Third, this is a shout out to newspapers and magazines: don't let people who hate the genre review books, and don't let people who haven't read the book on which something is based review that either. Read a review a few months back on HBO's Game of Thrones, and the woman obviously hated fantasy and hadn't read the series.  How do I know? One of her lines was "omg there r sooo many peeps to keep track of itz HARD" and another was "how any woman ever could like this is wrong."  Seriously? Your argument is that there are TOO MANY characters?  Get out.

5. Complaining about getting hit on
This one might be my favorite. I've overheard loud conversations more than once on trains and in Starbucks-type places where pretty girls are complaining about attention they are getting from guys. And I'm not talking about "staring through your window with binoculars" dangerous attention.  I'm talking about "had the audacity to come say hello at a bar and offer to buy you a drink."


girl 1: Ohmahgah, I was out with Steph this weekend at PinkSparklyPalmTree and this guy just came up to me and started talking!
girl 2: Ugh, I HATE when that happens.Was he at least cute? I doubt it, LOLOLOLOL
girl 1: Haha, he was like four feet tall and I was in my 6 inch stilettos so why bother?  And you'll never guess what happened next!!!
me, in my head: I CAN!
girl 2: What? WHAT??
girl 1: he offered to BUY my next DRINK! Can you BELIEVE that?  Seriously, dude, I'm way better than you in every possible way, how dare you offer to do something nice?


Seriously, ladies?  You're at a BAR, you are PRETTY, and you're ANNOYED when someone pays attention to you and offers to do something nice?  I'm not saying you have to take the drink, or that you even have to talk to him, but to get annoyed by the attention is a bitchy move. 


I'm sorry for the lack of any sort of central idea in this post, but it's been a while, I owe you all one, and I'm whiny.  Much love.

Critical mass.

I’m not sure what it is about large numbers of people, but it seems like for every person who gets added to a crowd, the collective IQ drops by a point.  I don’t know if pushiness was once selected for (the Permian mass extinction was actually a Black Friday sale?) or if everyone just gives up in despair when they see other versions of themselves close by (when will my reflection shoooow, the tool I am, insiiiiiiide…), but there’s got to be something about both being close to people and forced to wait for something that freaks errybody out.   There are types.

1.      Waiting in line to order food.

Two summers ago, my sister and I had gone to an ice cream place by the Jersey Shore.  She’s generally a pretty hilarious person, but I was almost on the floor laughing at her descriptions of people who wait in line for fifteen minutes, get to the counter, and have NO clue what they want.  Her faves are the sneaky ones: you don’t realize that they have no decision-making capacity, because they start the sentence with “Can I get…” but then follow it up with a distinctly bovine “uuuhhhhh…” as if startled to find out they’ve reached a point in the line which requires participation.  My personal favorites are the ones who want a sample of things and can’t even decide on that.  There is NO risk there, and yet they react like this has become Sophie’s Choice or Who Gets That Piece of Wood After the Titanic Goes Down…Choice.  (you’re so STOOPID, Rose, you’re so STOOPID.)  God forbid there is a parent in line with children who didn’t question them while in line about what they want, because the process is then one hundred percent longer for each additional child.  If I am behind you and Timmy and Susie and Barkley and Cartwright (or whatever other strange, old-timey trade genre you’ve decided to name your child…Tanner? Blacksmith?) and Timmy is giving you a look like he’s seriously considering jamming his Transformer toy into MY femoral artery because they don’t have Lime Berry Marshmallow Cotton Candy Rainbow as a flavor (Timmy has made this name up out of a collection of words he’s learned from TV today), I will not only take Bumblebee from him and make him Go Long, I will also bury your largest child in coffee-flavored ice cream and tell your other spawn that they must eat their way to their sibling or Santa dies. 

2.      Traffic

Here, I do not mean times when there are cars, and lots of them, but there still is some hope of movement.  No, here I speak of F*** All times when no one can do anything.  Instead of patiently waiting, or using the time to throw your car in park and accomplish something (making new friends with the equally screwed people next to you is my dad’s preferred cocktail, but there are plenty of options: getting your tan on; cranking the No Strings Attached CD you’re listening to, admit it; reconnecting with your brother; going back to school; pouring yourself a Maker’s, neat, because by the time you move the alcohol will have been out of your system for about 6 hours; reading Hunger Games fanfic (notthatI’vedoneit); opportunities are endless.  Just try not to be one of these guys:

·         This is TOTALLY a lane – when everyone is required to merge due to construction or an engineering prank (dude, dude, DUDE: if we just cut down on a lane here for no reason how funny would that be?), this person decides the lane about to end, or even better, the shoulder, is a shortcut to be the grand marshal in the Parade of the Damned we are all a part of.  Sir, EVERYONE sees you sneaking up on the side and NO ONE is going to let you in unless your wife is in labor, and only if her contractions are less than five minutes apart and she’s having at least two babies at once.  We all have ultrasound equipment so we will know if you are lying.  

·         This lane is betterOHWAIT – if one lane momentarily lurches forward 4 feet, you can bet this broski will be in that new lane: even if it is two or even three lanes over because it’s CLEARLY the best lane.  I’m sure when I eventually receive my license to practice law that will be more satisfying, but at this moment I can think of no other experience better than passing the person who cut you off to get into a “better lane.”

·         I’ma lean on mah horn, kay? – This person, when seeing all of the people in front of him, comes to the conclusion that instead of some outside force keeping all these cars from moving, that all of I-95 has decided to play Red Light, Green Light, 1,2,3; that our last command was Red Light; and that the person running the game was subsequently hit in the temple and lost consciousness, leaving us confused as to what to do.  He’s a conspiracy theorist with a Twitter account named TruthPatriot3790 which he updates twice an hour.  He has an open can of Redbull in his cupholder and is listening to a death metal band called Sponge 4 Blood (title track: This Weeping Wound).  “Wake up, sheeple!” he bleats from his sedan.  “You can move if you want!  We are the only things in our own way, so MOVE, dammit!”  This person makes you wish you could turn your ears into hands: you would no longer have to listen to him throwing his tribal-tattooed weight into his horn, but you would also have additional middle fingers with which to flip him off, and additional hands for belting him across the face with a copy of Idiocracy (which will be located in his front seat). 

Champski, there is NOTHING any of us can do, so just sit tight and ease up on the caffeine.  And maybe switch out the CD?  No, Eminem is not a good substitute.  No, not even his new album.  Yes, sweetie, I know he’s said he’s clean now.  Here’s some Jack Johnson: there’s a song about banana pancakes that I’m sure you’ll like.

3.      Crowds

I generally don’t like to be touched, especially by strangers (worse than most people, it’s pretty bad), but I try to suck it up when it comes to events that naturally draw crowds.  We also learned last semester in Torts about the “crowded world” rule, and to summarize: if you’re on a crowded subway and somebody brushes past you, you can’t sue them for battery.  Basically?  S*** happens, sorry, and I get this, I really do.  I’m not going to start making a shiv out of my mailbox key so I can get your kidney the next time around.  The people in crowds that make me want to set myself on fire rather than be near them are the pedestrian version of “I’ma lean on my horn, kay?” and “That lane is betterOHWAIT.”  You give them an inch and they take a yard.  They IMAGINE you’ve given them an inch and they take 20 feet.  They scoot forward until their noses are buried in between your shoulder blades and you start contemplating faking leprosy or Christian fundamentalism to get them away from you.

They push into you, and you know it’s not the people behind them, because the people behind them have left a space, an actual space.  They often wear backpacks and whip around, turning their travel gear into the equivalent of a spiked mace.  They shout things like “what’s the hold up?!” and “let’s keep it moving, people!” and then snort to themselves or their friends.  If there are several members to the party, they will link arms, the leader stating “follow me, everybody!” and muscle their way through the crowd like a conga line from hell.  My personal favorite exclamation is when they are rudely PUSHING you forward and stating “I don’t have to deal with this!”  I always wonder what led you to that conclusion: why not?  Are you armed?  Are you here under duress?  Are you the monarch of a tiny but plucky country (major exports: a sour kind of citrus fruit and handguns) and have diplomatic immunity from crowds?

My ability to even form words, much less sentences, shuts down around these people due to a combination of hate and discomfort.  It’s mostly “eeeeeee!” with a little “AHHHGGGHH!” thrown it at low moments.  I just want to squirm and scream.  To disappear and take them out as I go with a garrote.  To Apparate out and elbow each one in the sternum.  Seriously, lady, I was not aware I signed up for a colonoscopy with you and your fanny pack, and I don’t know how you did this but your voice seems to trigger an adverse, sciatica-esque reaction in my vagus nerve (who are we kidding, you touched all twelve of those bad boys.)  The fact that you announced to the crowd that you need to pee only makes me want to dump my Nalgene on your head and start singing “Don’t go chasin’ waterfaaaalls…”  And seriously, it’s okay to want a piece, but f’reals, if your hand gets anywhere near my butt again, I’m going to travel forward or backwards in time, disguise myself as your wedding planner for 12 hours, and as you’re about to make your entrance, inform you that there was a little problem with the orchestra due to flight delays, and the only band available on such short notice is a Baha Men cover band.  You’re okay walking down the aisle to Who Let the Dogs Out, right?  They’ll be doing the reception as well. 

In slow-moving crowds, please remember you are a human, and remember others are too.  Best scenario for everyone: you get to live, and I get to pass the character part of the bar.      

So fresh and so clean.

Apologize for the hiatus.  Life gets tough sometimes.

Write some case briefs, write some blog post, write some case briefs, write some blog post. Oh, and prep for Kaplan training.  I may be teaching the LSAT soon.  Oh goodness.

Guysguysguysguys how much FUN is doing laundry in communal machines?!?!?!?!!!!1111

I'm seriously hoping this concept doesn't fall into the hands of our enemies, because there will be no secrets left once any hostages are made to wash a load of sweaters in a machine that jams up with quarters three-fifths of the time.  We would no longer be a super power.

There are roughly 87 million things that can go wrong with doing laundry in machines every one shares.  I can group them into four main categories: prep, paying, washing, and drying.

1. Preparation
Favorite part of this is if you live in a different building than the one where the machines are located.  Motivation shot before you've even begun.  Also guarantees that the instant you want to do laundry, it will begin to sleet.  Bed, Bath, and Beyond does not view "all-terrain, all-weather" as a selling point for laundry carriers: I say they are missing a large demographic right there.
You also have to do an awesome job (if you're me) making sure you actually have all of the items you want to wash.  My champ move is forgetting I'm wearing a favorite shirt right about 15 minutes into the washing cycle.

2. Paying
For four years of college I was using mostly quarters (and sometimes my card) to pay for laundry and this was a BLAST, let me tell YOU.  Learning you're a quarter short when you swore you just counted out enough for a full washing and drying cycle produces a frenzy only previously known in Viking soldiers on primitive methamphetamine.  You WILL find another quarter, goshdarnit.  You're knocking on people's doors you don't even know, desperately asking for just one George Washington so you can pleasepleasePLEASE not have to dry your socks on your radiator which is probably a fire haz-no, definitely a fire hazard and there isn't nearly enough space to hang everything because it's winter and that laundry load held like 8 sweatshirts and 4 pairs of jeans and they will all be DAMP FOREVER if you can't find one more flippin' quarter so time to dig through your purse and bottom of your backpack because this must happen.  It's a party and a half.  The machines at Brown were also gold-medal winners at not accepting your quarters after you've loaded an entire two weeks' worth of wardrobe in.  I started checking before I put clothes in to avoid the "...you're kidding, right?" feeling and the physical battle I'd then have with the machines (spoiler: they won.  Every single time.)
Cards were marginally better, but on those you generally have the problem of "this is boss, I have 75 cents left."  My apartment, bless its heart, only lets you put 5s, 10s, and 20s on the card, so God forbid you show up with 9 singles and a twenty.  You have no options; the laundry money credit thing cares not that you merely wish to wash your towels and require about 3 dollars on the card.  Your twenty is miiiiiiine bwahahahaaaaaa.

3. Washing
Mayyyybe your clothes will get washed.  Maybe they will just end up in a soggy, dripping pile that still has bits of your powdered detergent on it.  Then you get to transfer it to the dryers, which are sometimes open (I'll address this in a second) and this absolutely guarantees that you will drop your most valuable item of clothing onto the floor...and onto lint.  It will not be a sock.  It will be the sweater that Mother Teresa knit for you, made of equal parts rainbow and hope.  And it's FRAGILE.

4. Drying
This is perhaps the most dangerous, because it can potentially involve interactions with other people.  There is the general annoyance of finding that beautiful middle ground between "My clothes are apparently made of glacial meltwater" and "my clothes are magma-temperature and now suitable for Felicity, my American Girl Doll, to wear" in the sogginess spectrum, but the real crisis here is when someone else's clothes are in the dryer.  There are some rules here:

If you need to move someone else's clothing from a dryer, it will ALWAYS be underwear, and 7 out of 10 times it will be underwear belonging to someone of the opposite sex.

This person's things will be completed, but still in the dryer, for at least an hour after the cycle ends.

This person will appear the second you actually lose patience and begin to move their things.  Also, 7 out of 10 times, they will appear at the same instant you accidentally drop a garment on the floor.

My most recent experience with this was moving a man's underwear and socks which had been in the dryer, complete, for 90 minutes.  The underwear all had the Playboy bunny screenprinted on them.  I feel NO REMORSE OR SHAME FOR MOVING IT.  Thank GOD he did not show up. 

Someone invent self-cleaning socks and I will love you forever.

Ain't passed the bar presents: Recent Hits!

Trying a new thing for this post, and hoping that if I pick a theme I may update more often.  I recently turned in a brief, so my life is hypothetically my own again (no longer belongs to the 4th Amendment) and I have spring break now so I hope to make you laugh once again.  Plus, this is WAY more fun to write about than warrantless searches.   The day my brief was due I definitely looked like Ke$ha and the Grim Reaper made a baby (IT'S A GIRL)

Wake up in the morning feelin' like Grim Reaper
Grab my scythe I'm out the door I'm gonna be a creeper
'Fore I leave, shine my skull with a bottle of Jack
I may not be the greatest party but my robes sure are black
I'M TALKIN'

Sorry, done.

This is unrelated to the rest of the post, but if you are lost on a road, please DO NOT drive 15 under the speed limit and brake at every street.  Pull over.  Figure out where you are.  If you don't do this, I will hunt you down, sedate you, and alter your cerebrum so that you now hear the word "got" as spoken  by Ke$ha, "love" as sung by Celine Dion, and "under" as sung by the lead singer of Creed.  Forever.  Yeah, that's right.

Today's recent hit song that's getting torn apart is Enrique Inglesias' "Tonight," featuring Ludacris.  Heyy lyrics, heyyy.

I know you want me
I made it obvious that I want you too
How?  The song?  And how do you know for a fact that she wants you?  That's a bold statement, Enrique.

So put it on me
Let's remove the space between me and you
Wait, wait... put WHAT on you?  My drink on your tab?  Gladly.  Also "remove the space" is a really awkward line, champski.  Just say come closer.

So move your body
Damn I like the way that you move
So give it to me
Cause I already know what you wanna do
She's probs already dancing, champ, but if not, I do like how you're all like, "DANCE monkey DANCE" and then two seconds later like, "nice job!"  Also, what is she giving to you?  Is this still the drink on your tab thing?  Because I'd like that.  What does she wanna do?  I don't know, fill me in!  Suspense is killing me!

Here's the situation
Been to every nation
Nobody's ever made me feel the way that you do
The lovely Adrienne had something to say about this: "Has he really been to every nation? Even Vanuatu?  Even Trinidad and Tobago?  Even Eritrea?"  Plus you know the Pope is chillin' in Vatican City and shouting out "BITCH WE COUNT AND YOU AIN'T BEEN HERE."  Just kidding, the Pope wouldn't say that.  It'd be in Latin.

You know my motivation 
Given my reputation
Please excuse me I don't mean to be rude
But tonight I'm f***ing you
Your... reputation?  Enrique?  Enrique "I Can Kiss Away the Pain" Inglesias?  Enrique "I Don't Wanna Be In The Dark Tonight" Inglesias?  You've been with the same woman for nearly a decade.  Yes, that woman is Kournikova, but your reputation is Enrique "oh my God I loved this ballad when I was in seventh grade" and "we're karaoke-ing this right now because I've had 6 shots" Inglesias. 
Also, not meaning to be rude?  ur doin it rong.  Does this line "do it" for anyone?   It makes me feel uncomfortable.  And the radio version makes me pee myself laughing: he doesn't mean to be rude but tonight he's loving you. AWWWW ENRIQUE

You're so damn pretty
If I had a type then baby it would be you
...huh?  Are you too cool to have a type?  Is having a type uncool?  What happened?

I know you're ready
If I never lied then baby you'd be the truth
Aaaaand challenging the last line for pure WTF-ness is this gem.  Is this part of your non-existent reputation?  How is she the truth?  Is this chick the Mirror of Erised or Veritaserum (HP reference CHHHHECK)?  I'm not even kidding can someone plz fill me in on what he's trying to convey here?

been to every nation, banging you tonight, etc.

Hey Luda, how you be?  Your turn!

Tonight I'm gonna do
Everything that I want with you
Everything that you need
Everything that you want
I wanna honey
I wanna stunt with you
I'm really hoping that everything that you want and everything that SHE wants are the same.  Also, have your parents never walked you through the difference between a want and a need?  Come on, Luda.  Also, suburban white girl says: I really am still not sure when the word "stunt" is appropriate.

From the window
To the wall
Gonna give you, my all
Li'l Jon was reached for comment: "WHHAAAT?  OKAY!"

Winter and summertime
When I get you on the springs
I'm gonna make you fall
No.  You're better than that.

You got that body that make me wanna
Get up on the floor just to see you dance
Make sure to move too, Luda, otherwise you're That Creepy Guy at the club.

And I love the way you shake that ass
Turn around and let me see them pants
Oh, Ludacris, you charmer.  They probably look the same from the front.  Also I absolutely just started humming "Tuuurn arooooound, bright eyes" at that line, so now I wrecked it.

You're stuck with me
I'm stuck with you
Let's find something to do
Please excuse me I don't mean to be rude
Was there a comically-timed power outage to make you get stuck with each other?  Handcuffs that someone lost the key to?  How are you stuck with each other?  Also I generally think of something else to do before I jump to sexytimes.  Just a thought.
And you DO mean to be rude.  I also hope you both got your own girl.  Otherwise Luda is either the best or worst wingman for 'Rique, I can't decide.

And it continues for the lovely chorus, and wraps up with OOOOooooh, OOOOoooooooh, fading out.  I picture Enrique and Ludacris fading into the background, giving each other fistpumps and going home alone.  This song is absurd.  And now I have Total Eclipse of the Heart in my head, and you do too.  AND I NEEEEED YOU MORE THAN EVAAAAAR

Love you guys.

To the pain.

That's what law school feels like sometimes.  "It means I leave you in anguish.  Wallowing in freakish misery forever."  Whaddup Westley.

Just wanted to say despite my last post, thank you to everyone who made me feel happy on my birthday, and the lack of posting is a direct reflection of the metric ton of law school crap that has landed on me.  I will update soon.  I have not forgotten you.  (All 12 or so of you.)

If you see me around, ignore the fact that I look like KE$HA, sound like JWOWW and probs smell like the Bog of Eternal Stench.  Ignore it and don't point it out because I'll disembowel you.  I HATE THIS BRIEF.

Lots of love coming soon.   

One day, there will be a federal holiday on my birthday. Until then...

This part has nothing to do with the rest of the post, but I was told earlier this week, "You seem like the kind of person who secretly has a tattoo.  Like, all of Corinthians on your back, in really tiny print."  ('sup Tarik.  Yeah, you is gettin' a shout-out.)  I can't decide if this is absurdly accurate or just absurd but either way I love it.  Thoughts/opinions?

There is very little limit to the things I hate this week.  The list includes people who park across two spaces, that ten minutes in the morning when not one of my radio presets is actually playing music, those who speak when they have no clue about the topic, anyone who stands in doorways when I'm trying to walk, my brief, getting cold-called and being on call in one day, the completely inadequate amount of sleep I've received in the past three days, the fact that I'm currently blogging instead of writing my brief, aaaaand the fact that I just used "blog" as a verb.  I told myself I wouldn't go there, and I did.  Oh, I did.

Guess what, kiddies?  My FAVE holiday is coming up, and I think you all know what it is!!!!111  VALENTINE'S DAYYYYYYAAAAYYY!

I don't know if I have any readers who don't know me personally/don't have access to my Facebook page, but my unfortunate day of birth is February 14th.  Frankly, this is bullshit.  I am not designed to be born on that day.  However, because I am, I decided a long time ago that this gave me the Golden Ticket to get into the factory, drink the whole damn chocolate river, and hate on V-Day as much as humanly possible.  I am also going to call the day in question VD for the rest of the post, and you will both enjoy it and appreciate it, mmmkay?

You may find it interesting to know that I am not single, and still hate this holiday.  My poor boy is scrambling as we speak to not be a fail for both my birthday and TEH MOST ROMANTIK DAI EVAR and in case I wasn't clear enough to him over the past week: calm down, dude.  You doin' jus' fine.

For a majority of my life, I was single on this day, which accomplishes two goals: making me feel like shit for being alone on both VD and my birthday, and making me feel like shit for attempting to claw my friends away from their respective significant others to spend the day with me, celebrating my aging.  Nearly every ign'ant person I spoke to, upon finding out my birthday was on Venereal Disease, said "OH EM GEE, that's so cute! He'd better get you two gifts!!!!1111"

If someone's born on Christmas Day, do you say "I hope Santa brings you two presents!" No, because you will later find out the kid's a Buddhist.  If someone's born on July 4th, do you say "I hope the country you live in celebrates its independence TWICE!"  If someone's born on April Fools' Day, do you say "I hope people pull twice the number of unfunny, unoriginal jokes for you because it's YOUR DAYYYY"  No, because ign'ance apparently stops at "You were born on VD = you came out of the womb with a macking partner." 

Hallmark's decided it's runnin' this, let's go (I'M ON A BOAT!  I'm on a boat, motha f***as, buy cliches from me), and Kay Jewelers is conceited enough to believe that every bit o' lovin' comes directly from the sparklies it sells.  I wonder if they shot down "Every conception begins with Kay's" before settling on their current slogan.

They've also managed to make every girl in the world look like the lisping female every male stand-up comedian turns women into (can we stop this?  Not joking here.  You whack, you twisted, your Stereotype of a Girl's a ho.  Stop making me lisp and sound nasally and maybe, just maybe, I won't make you eat your own microphone), by implying that even if yo' woman don't say she want a li'l bit of ice, she SO do, son.  She want that sparkly shit all up in her earlobes, on her neck, it don't matter if she say she don't want it.  You know she do 'cause all girls be wantin' that shit.

So, even when we say we don't want diamonds, or even want anything at all, you've decided we're lying, and we do?  Anybody else see a problem with this?  My lovely friend Kyrie puts it this way: "I don't need roses.  Just a little consideration.  And that doesn't secretly mean I want diamonds: when I want diamonds I will tell you I want diamonds... Just be nice to me all year and we're good."

It's gotten better-ish now than it was in middle and high school (probs because I was lonely/alone for most of that time, and even more awkward than I am currently, if you can believe it: all of the geekiness, none of the confidence), but during those times I pretty much wanted to walk around with a switchblade and hack the limbs off of any 4-foot teddy bear I saw being carried through the hallways.  The first bunch of years there weren't super text-riffic, but I can just imagine them now:

Teen 1: ooo gurl u got 2 see tha teddy bear tha boi got me its sooo cute
Teen 2: awww u so lucky!!! did he get u nething else
Teen 1: yea he got me that braclet at claires that i showed u, remember its got hearts all ovah it
Teen 2: yeah i remember it cant beleive its 3 weeks since u guyz hooked up
Teen 1: omg i no i totally luv him and were goin 2 panera tonight 4 dinner
Teen 2: oo u slut i hate u jkjk u no i love u bitch <3
Teen 1: u bitch jkjkjk i luv u ho

I was the girl wearing black at first, and then in later years handing out candy to every one because f*** that if you don't get chocolate on VD because you're not dating someone.  Chocolate is delicious and everyone should have some.  Which is why I'm going to go to CVS in the next twelve hours and buy a giant, heart-shaped collection of deliciousness and eat it all myself because I CAN.  

Dear Lord Jesus I hate this holiday.

I'll make you laugh again soon, I promise.

This isn't a normal entry because it's always difficult to make religious jokes when you're actually religious.  It's been a rough week, I'm sad and angry, and I've been wanting to post this for a while.

You all probably know by now that I'm Catholic.  Whether you've heard me singing dorky church songs in the shower, or watched me awkwardly walk out of the chapel at Nova after daily Mass, or watched me pray and cross myself before exams, or just had a not-quite-argument about religion, you know I send some messages up to God and believe that Jesus is my savior.  And I'd just like to take a moment to clarify things for people if I can.  I'm hoping this doesn't go too far into an overshare, but I'll try to stay on that line.

Also, apologies, this isn't funny.  Amusing update soon.

I will never, ever, tell you you're going to Hell, or attempt to convert you.  If you want to talk to me about religion, I will do my absolute best to be an accurate and worthy representative of the Church.  I will not pray for you unless you say it's okay.  I have no clue if you're going to Hell or not, and to say I know the answer to that question is playing God to a degree that's wrong: that's a decision He gets to make, and no one else.

Bit of applicable politics: I'm super pro-life (in that I think life begins at conception), but I can appreciate the difficulty associated with making the decision to abort or not.  I'll never call you a "murderer": while I feel a life has ended, I realize you don't think it has, and so there's no malice behind your actions.  My actions tend to focus less on the legality of abortion and more on efforts to make sure that no woman feels she is forced into aborting because she doesn't have a network to help her raise the child.

I'm not against contraception, as a blanket statement, and I realize some young people will have sex regardless of the education they receive.  However, I also become frustrated when I hear people say that remaining a virgin until marriage is not a feasible option.  It may not be for some people, but in the same way that saying "no sex or you will get pregnant and die" is generalizing too much, so is saying that people will and should have sex.  I've chosen to wait because I've analyzed and agree with the Church's teaching on this, because of my pro-life position, and because this is what's right for me.  I'm not waiting because I'm brainwashed, or because I'm not empowered enough.  I would never call you a slut: please don't call me a prude.

I heart evolution.  Science fans, fun fact: the Catholic Church is good with evolution, all the way up to the pope, so it's not us, I swear.  Every Christian everywhere: understanding and accepting evolution does NOT make you love God any less.  They are compatible, I promise, and I will talk to you about this as much as you want.  Instead of fighting science, let's find how it all fits together.  And just for the record, if your answer is "well, then a miracle occurred" for a scientific question, PLEASE do not treat this as science.  First of all, and I'm stealing a Terry Pratchett quote from my profile, "Just because you can explain it doesn't mean it's not still a miracle."  Second, if you're insisting on doing rigorous scientific analysis for your theories, that's not gonna cut it.  Please stop acting like these are and must be opposing ideals.  Scientists: you don't have to kill God to continue your research.  Christians: you don't have to make science lose in order for God to win.

I have no objections, moral or otherwise, to homosexuality.  I truly hope everyone can marry whoever they want in the near future.

I pray.  A lot.  At church, outside church, whatever.  And in the past few years I've adjusted my prayers from the child-like "please let so-and-so like me" and "please help me get an A on this test" to "please give me the strength to forgive her" and "please help me focus on what's important."  The "correct" way of praying is to not ask for a lesser burden, but to ask for the ability to handle it.  I pray for other people, but only with their permission, and I really try to not do the "pray in public so everyone knows she's praying" thing, but it happens.  I do fast for Lent (legit fasting Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, no meat for Fridays, and giving something up the other 40 days), and I try not to whine too much, but I'm not so good at it.  There's a Gospel reading in which we are told not to look like we are suffering when we fast: the point isn't to get props from other people.  If only I was better at following this.

And here I get a little angry.

I don't know when or where or how it became acceptable to mock everything associated with Christianity, and I always have a difficult time finding the line between calmly defending myself and becoming un-Christian-ly aggressive, but it happens a LOT in my hearing range.  I don't mind you asking me questions about my faith: please do.  But when I hear you make blanket statements about all priests being pedophiles, or the Church itself being crazy, or saying you don't get how I can be so smart and so religious at the same time, I freak out a little bit. 

I wish I didn't have to walk people through this, but not all priests are pedophiles.  Yes, the church did a shitty job dealing with this, but in the same way "all Muslims are terrorists" is horribly offensive and wrong, so is "all Catholic priests touch little boys."  This is NOT acceptable.  You're gonna make a joke about it?  Really?  About 600 people have done it before, and better than you, and it's still not funny.

Yes, the Catholic church has done things wrong.   A lot of things wrong.  But to me, abandoning the structure does nothing to make things better.  Fix it from the inside.  You don't see the good work it does making headlines, because that's not something anyone wants to read.  Aside from all the poverty relief the church does... there are Catholic schools of higher education.  I attend one.  And yet I often overhear what a general disaster the church and everything associated with it are.  I don't get it.

Lastly: I'm going to give you a few pointers on what not to ask me.
"So you're like... really Catholic, huh?"
How do I answer that?  Loaded question, champ.
"Do you hate gay people/hate Jews/think abortion activists are Satan?"
No, Ignorant Person, I am not Mel Gibson.  Have you met me?  Am I insane?  Do I hate a broad group of people (other than people who are rude to retail and food service workers)?  There you go.
If you haven't met me/don't really know me, why are you asking these things to begin with? 
"How can you POSSIBLY believe there's a God?  IT'S JUST LOGICSHKAJFKGPW...(continued angry ridiculousness)"
Sorry to stop you before you tart, but you're not going to change my mind.  If you're deluded enough to think you're the first person to come to me with "there is no God" arguments, you can add "wrong" to your descriptions.  (Don't quote Richard Dawkins at me or I will SEETHE.)  This does not mean you can't ask "why do you believe in God?"  I'm more than happy to answer that question when it's asked out of genuine curiosity.  It's the manner of questioning that matters here.  If you're jumping into the argument assuming I'm a dumbass because of what I believe, why would I want to talk to you?  If you consider yourself an atheist, I disagree with you, but I certainly don't think you're an idiot.  And I would hope you'd offer me and my beliefs the same amount of respect.

The only way I can think to summarize is this: listen.  Be respectful.  And please think before you speak. 

Short and Tweet.

I gots me a Twitter account because some lovely ladies (pertussisAdrienneandScuzzopertussis) pushed me to do so.  I'ma be funny in short burts, which is probably good because sometimes my focus sucks too much to make a full blog post.  I'm CCozzetto on it (I think? I'll edit this if I got that wrong) and I'll see if I can confine my brilliance to just a few characters.

In other news, we got our brief, and because it is somewhat related to a potentially unlawful search, I'll be DAMNED if I can't get a 99 Problems quote in there.  If the line don't fit, you must... use a line from Ridin' Dirty instead.  OH yeah, REFERENCES yeahhhh.

Additionally, I currently have no voice (or very little voice), and since I really, REALLY like to say stuff about pretty much everything, joining Twitter was probs a really excellent call.  Megaphone for the internet, and especially croosh when I sound like I'm going through puberty again, but as a boy.  Y'all with the Y chromosome had it rough. 

Speaking of not having enough focus for a real post... whaddup this be the end.  The Rim of the Discworld.  The arch and curtain in the Department of Mysteries.  The Wall in Westeros.  Enough nerdy references?

I'm trying to figure one out for the Sword of Truth series but "the underworld" isn't quite a nerdy reference, and none of my rap idols have a good one.  So I'm done, but only because I can't think of more.

All the ballers is bouncin', they like the way I be leanin'.

Coming and going.

Yes, I've been in school forever, so this is a pet peeve of mine and may not apply to everyone, but you have to remember a time that it did apply, right?

Going into and leaving classrooms is an art.  An art that apparently got cut by the school budget for Life, The Elementary School because no one seems to know how to do it.  I'm going to start with how to enter a classroom first and we'll work our way up, shall we?

Don't stand by the door like the classroom is gonna suddenly turn into a subway car and dash away without notice.  People need to get out before you can get in, and all you're accomplishing by not moving your dumb body is making people hate you, and gridlock.  My favorite people who do this are the ones with both a huge backpack and textbooks in their arms, so when you ask them (or push them... I make things happen) to move, they respond like concussed turtles and the resulting movement is marginally slower than continental drift.  Wh..what? You need me to... to move??  I don't understand, I wanna get in my classroom, why are all these people hereeee whiiiiiine...

Other. people. use. this. room.  I understand the fun in getting there early and setting up, but sometimes the classroom has other people in it.  Please get that through your brain and stop acting like you deserve reparations for the fact that someone else had the nerve to worship at YOUR Temple of Learning.

Aaaaaaalso, if you're waiting outside the room, your voice WILL travel and it WILL disturb the people inside.  And if, say, a person in the classroom comes out and aks, for example, "hey guys, I'm sorry, but we can hear you in here, do you mind keeping it down?" (not a direct quote or anything), the correct response is generally something along the lines of "oh, sorry!" or "we'll be quieter."  It is decidedly NOT "what time does your class end?"  Not f***ing NOW, champ, so please shut it for the next nine minutes so I can hear what the poor student who just got cold-called is saying from the back of the Classroom The Size of an Average Balkan Republic.  You can wait your turn for the carousel and shut it until then, got it?

But apparently you don't and instead jump immediately into Goldfish Mode and forget within 90 seconds anything anyone's ever told you, ever, so your voice, two minutes later, not only matches but exceeds the decibel level you were reaching before.  Also, this remix of "Loud Hallway Talkers" has DJ Sux2BU adding his trademark braying laugh so it absolutely guarantees you can't hear a damn thing about contracts.  I will hunt you down, Mr. Laughter, and you will never laugh again.

Now, if you're attempting to leave a classroom, the general goal of "don't annoy every being around you" still stands, but there are some specifics, of course.  Like, don't take 8 years to pack up your stuff if people are streaming in.  Like, that conversation can probably happen anywhere so you need to tell your biffle that you'll 1, 2, meet her outside, and then do that.

Biggest problem (people getting off of escalators do this too, and I have no idea why): people who take two steps outside the classroom, and stop.  Unless someone just hit you with a Body-Bind Curse, there is no reason to look around you like the second floor hallway is the 8th Wonder of the Ancient World.  "Oh, my God, the track lighting in this hallway is even prettier than the Hanging Gardens of Babylon!  I shall GROW ROOTS and NEVER MOVE and all the people behind me who are just trying to get to lunch BE DAMNED."

All of this can be boiled down to spatial awareness and not being an ass.  Go forth and be not annoying.

OMGPS.

Class tomorrow.  Instead of doing something productive, I am boozing and blogging.  By boozing I mean "drinking a beer slow enough for it to no longer be cold by the time I'm done," but I want alliteration dammit.

Disclaimer: I have a terrible sense of direction.  I have to be told how to get to a place about a dozen times before I can do it on my own, I never have any clue where north or south or any direction is, and I need about seven minutes of notice if I have to turn (eight if it's a left turn).  So, hypothetically, a GPS would be the best possible thing for me to own.

Hypothetically is half right.  If I already kind of know where I'm going, or I'm just checking an exit number, or I need to get to a highway but can find my way once I get there, the thing is pure gold.  However, if I already know EXACTLY where I'm going or have no clue, it's a disaster, as I found out today (and my long-suffering sister got to experience... but I really don't feel too bad since she napped two times in the hour and forty five minute drive from PA to Baltimore.)

If I already know exactly where I'm going, the GPS does nothing but make me panic.  It'll tell me a different direction to go than what I'm used to, and just make me scared.  This is why I turn it off when coming home from Nova: I get over the Goethals (aside: I have hairs wider than this bridge) and the Verrazano, and the lovely GPS automatically gets an electronic hard-on for the BQE.  I HATE the BQE and refuse to take it, so I turn the thing off and go my own way.

If I have no idea where I'm going, I both don't trust the thing, and can't follow its directions.  Why are we going north?  This road doesn't sound familiar.  Do I turn here?  Wait, HERE?  WAIT, WHERE'S THE GODDAMN TURN?!  You've got to be kidding me; I missed it. 
It's a blast.  I also adore the thing's inability to pronounce anything other than a profession or an Anglo first name (it got confused with "Charlesmeade Street"), so that just adds to my confusion.

And the voice.  Let's not even start with the voice.  Andrew deserves a shout out, here, because my lovely worse half decided it would be a great idea to do the GPS voice for a 25-minute car ride.  Normally, I have no problem striking him, but I was driving so he got away with it.  I think the voice is meant to be soothing, but to me it's grating, mostly because of the incorrect pauses and inflections in the sentence.  Therefore, I react incorrectly.

GPS: "In .5 miles, turn right onto exit 12."
Normal person: "Okay, the turn's coming up."
Me: "AWESOME, GPS, I'll totally count the stupid mile markers until I have to turn.  I know that's the exit, you idiot.  And I have to turn right?  No WAY I figured I'd have to throw this Toyota in reverse to accomplish that feat!  Thank God I have you!!!"

GPS: "In 64 miles, turn left to stay on I-95."
Normal person: "Wow, this is gonna take a while."
Me: "FANTASTIC.  Did you really have to tell me that this part of the drive was going to be as long as watching all of the Land Before Time movies back-to-back?  When PEOPLE give directions, they just say it's gonna take forever, or some variant.  Normal PEOPLE do not give me linear measurements of the Goddamn Oregon Trail I have to traverse to get to Baltimore.  Wanna tell me the cubic centimeters of gas I have left in my tank?  How about the degrees Celsius I have to reach so that you melt into a tiny pile of plastic and missed satellite connections?  WHAT NOW."

GPS: "Recalculating."
Normal person: "Gosh darn, I guess I missed the street it told me to turn on."
Me: "F*** YOU AND ALL YOUR ANCESTORS. MAPS, COMPASSES, EVEN THE SUN."

So maybe I've got a bit of an anger problem. I think it's that I expect the thing to function as a low-rent form of Apparition and when it still actually takes time to get me somewhere, I get bored and angry.

I also think that a truck driver on 695 caught me singing "Change In My Life" super loudly in what was essentially a bass voice.  Sexy.  Whatever.  I been lonely, I been cheated, I been misunderstoooood...