My mother, the witness

Been doing shittons of research and lawyering in the past week and a half, including filing craptons of stuff in the one case I'm working. I love research and I love preparing and figuring out details to be discussed in hearings, but let's be real: the Rules of Civil Procedure, service requirements, and deadlines (or, in reality, the fact that I might fuck them up entirely) terrify me, y'all.

That's why it was nice reading my mother's deposition for a case in which she's currently a party--it made me feel a little more competent as an attorney. Two particular gems from the depo, which involve litigation arising from her being hit from behind while at a stop light:

(Q) When was the first time you saw this truck?
(A) When it hit me.

And let's not forget this one, which tickled my funny bone and for which my mother didn't even offer up an answer, although I can imagine VERY CLEARLY the expression on her face:

(Q) When is the first time you became aware of this accident?

Wait, WHAT?

I get it from somewhere. Clearly. 

Bar Exam Neurosis

Let's be clear: I don't use my blawg to create a persona. I am true to myself, and am perfectly fine being super ridiculous and nerdy and cheesy. 

So I'm gonna drop some truth on you right now: when it comes to test-taking, I am a NEUROTIC BITCH. Not like, oh, kinda crazy and don't bathe when it comes time to take the test. Like, have to regurgitate said test back in my hotel room so I can purge it from my mind forever. 

Yeah, you heard that right. I rewrite all the questions I can remember from the exam. Because I'm fucking crazy. (Although I would rather be crazy than think it's acceptable NOT TO BATHE WHEN I'M GOING TO BE IN PUBLIC.)

Proof is in the (cray) pudding. And my neurosis is especially evident in the fact that no,
you can't read my writing because I resized the photo to prevent such things from happening. 

Today, I managed to remember 94 questions from each session. No, I will not give them to you. No, I do not plan on disseminating them to anyone. I will probably burn them after this fucking bar exam, because really, they serve no purpose to me. They're just the byproduct of mental cleansing. 

And yet, I feel no less crazy now than when I started. 

(Don't judge me.)

(My mother does that enough for the both of us)

STFU

Tonight, while on the phone with my mother, I was offered a big cup of shut the fuck up.

I think I'd prefer a shot, wouldn't you?

Don't worry; it comes in all flavors.

"I'd rather have a full bottle in front of me than a full frontal lobotomy." --Fred Allen

I'd like to rearrange...your face

Things that really bother me while taking final exams:

1) Deep sighing
2) Vibrating phones (turn those bitches OFF)
3) Loud typing--is it necessary to batter your computer?
4) People that leave 40 minutes into exam (and it's three hours long)
5) Going blank (this one's totally on me--fault completely my own)
6) Rustling food bags--open it, get it over with, and for the love of God, please don't smack
7) Tapping and other random bodily twitches
8) People that make a big deal about leaving the room or asking a teacher a question
9) People who are apparently too stupid to quietly pack up their shit to leave

10) AND YOU, MOTHERFUCKER, slurping your goddamn Route 44 drink, WHEN IT'S OBVIOUSLY FUCKING EMPTY. 

I hope you fail....

I hope your girlfriend breaks up with you....

I hope you're diagnosed with a condition that makes it impossible to drink from a fucking straw. 

Wooo pig sue me

I've created a picture which I think adequately sums up my feelings about Bobby P. and the things he's done, but in case it doesn't make it clear, here are a few thoughts I've had surrounding this incident:

1) 20 THOUSAND DOLLARS? Fucking seriously?

2) Bobby Petrino (who almost certainly has a wrinkled ass)???? DOUBLE FUCKING SERIOUSLY????

3) People whining about Bobby Petrino need to consider the enormous legal problems he may have created for our university.

4) Football programs do not grow because of one person. It is a collaborative effort, and Bobby was not God of Football (see: Battle of the Boot, 2011).

5) DAMMIT, BOBBY!

Moral of the story? No good deed goes unpunished.

I did it. I volunteered and was subsequently elected to run a law school event (hereby coined "LSE"). Said event was to raise money for a good cause, something I constantly thought about as I was organizing said LSE.

Now, for those of you who are not yet familiar with my style, I'm an A personality. I like to meet people. I like to talk to people. I like to be in charge. I also don't mind helping out or delegating, provided things are run in a cohesive manner that doesn't result in my wanting to rip someone's my hair out. For the most part, if something isn't being done properly (or at all), I'd rather just do it myself. It's my nature, and while annoying, it's highly effective (because let's face it--law students aren't exactly the most dependable of people). That being said, if someone is doing their job, then I'm of the mindset to HAVE AT IT.

So....this LSE is technically the pet project of one of the organizations on campus and consists of having to rely upon a shitton of people actually showing up at this event to volunteer. That's strike one, in my opinion. Depending on a group of lawyers and law students to be somewhere to dedicate their time to an altruistic task? UNHEARD OF.

Strike two was the fact that I was working with someone I believe to be Cray-Cray to the Maximus (and by maximus, I mean in my gluteous maximus). My opinion? This crazy coot is out to get me. Fucking great. (And I'm not imagining this shit--we go way back.) Worst part? She acts like she doesn't hate my guts.

So I bust my ass for three weeks, all the while having to deal with backbiting and assholery and general indignities that many would argue are grounds for justifiable homicide. And I take it, because BY GOD, I AM GOING TO DO GOOD FOR CHARITY. I get liquor (since we know that's the main draw). I organize everything. I decorate. I bedazzle.

In short, I rock this goddamn event with every fucking fiber of my fabulous glitter-emoting body.

It was a success, although the event didn't raise nearly as much money as I would have liked (let's just say this--with the hours I put in, I'd have liked a feast thrown in my honor, with a roast beast).

So, where is strike three, you are wondering? Well, friends, that came after the event. When CrayCray scheduled a meeting to discuss the event. The event SHE DIDN'T EVEN FUCKING ATTEND. In all actuality, it was a "Let's Shit on Dr. Juris" meeting. And SHIT THEY DID. Comments like "undermining authority" (when I was in charge, mind you) and "poor time management" (when everything was accomplished and rocked out with its proverbial....well, you know what I mean) were thrown around with great relish. At the end of said meeting, I was told I would have to hand over all my notes and intellectual property associated with the event for next year's planning.

I am waiting for the perfect moment to crush these audacious demands didn't have the heart to tell them I had deleted it all with a thank you Lerd and good riddance.

No really, my heart is three sizes too small.....and I'm pretty sure it's not going to experience a miraculous growth spurt any time soon.

Probably the best email I had with regard to this event was a professor who was helping out: I'll stick to what they gave me and frequently remind myself that it's for a good cause. To which I replied:

That's what I've been doing for the past two weeks. 

Aspirin between the knees....

I've previously discussed my beliefs in my other blawgs, and have drawn a pretty hard line in the sand regarding some of them. I'm a moderate who believes in the shades of grey a great deal more than a distinct black or white. That being said, I try really hard to see both sides of an issue. Case in point: the recent war regarding birth control. I got angry at the Democrats for offering only one person to speak at the religious debacle debate in front of Congress a few weeks ago. I thought one person was ridiculous, although I understand that Republicans can be assholes and may have only allowed them one person to speak--but wouldn't it have been the smart decision to bring back-ups just in case???

At any rate, the testimony they offered (which was subsequently declined by the assholes previously mentioned) was that of Sandra Fluke. She had a lot of stuff to say. None of that testimony talked about how much she loved sex (although most people do--it's kinda fun, amIright?). In fact, she declined to talk about her experiences with contraceptives. She instead focused on the stories of women who were unable to afford their contraceptives and suffered terrible consequences as a result. Stories of a woman whose polycystic ovarian syndrome got so bad (due to lack of hormonal treatment) that she grew a tennis-ball-sized cyst on her ovary and had to have the entire ovary removed. Stories of a woman who was married and couldn't afford her birth control. Stories of women who were struggling with hormonal issues and unable to secure the treatment they needed due to the fact that their medicine is also considered birth control. STORIES OF MILLIONS OF WOMEN THROUGHOUT THIS NATION.

Enter Rush Limbaugh. 

I can go ahead and tell you that I'm not the biggest Rush fan. I find him hypocritical, obnoxious, and pretty stupid. He didn't disappoint this time either. Not only did he call Ms. Fluke a slut, among other things, he also told her she prostituted herself since the government was essentially paying her to have sex. He then told her the least she could do was post videos online of herself having sex, since she had been paid to do this.

Now, I'm all for first amendment rights. That being said, I fail to see how ANYONE could defend these stupid, ridiculous, fantastical comparisons, particularly women. Enter Angela Moribito. A self-proclaimed right-winger and "100 pounds of fury," Angela not only agreed with Rush Limbaugh (something she later claimed not to have done), but she also let-er-rip with this lovely little pearl of wisdom: that Sandra Fluke will always be remembered as "a Welfare Condom Queen [sic]." Apparently, Angela thinks Ms. Fluke has chained herself to the "sinking ship of Pelosi Liberalism," while seemingly--and most ironically--not realizing she herself was chaining herself to the Titanic that was inevitably Rush Limbaugh. 

I get it--some people equate condoms/birth control with slutiness. What I fail to understand is how they've equated THIS TESTIMONY with slutiness. One thing I know for certain: the world would be a much better place with a little more sluttiness and a whole lot less judgmental assholes throwing gender-bombs at people. 

Ta-ta for now. It's time to go take my birth control. 

Don't bet against the bailiff

I'm not sure if I've written about my externship before, since I generally shy away from anything that has to do with court proceedings in the interest of judicial secrecy. That being said, I work several hours per week with hilariously awesome people in this particular court setting. As is typical with awesome people, craziness ensues a large majority of the time. 

Like today, when I lost a bet. 

We had a hearing regarding parents that don't get along and refuse to get along for the interest of their two children. They have allowed these kids to have Facebook accounts. The parents also have Facebook accounts, and apparently Momsy spends a good majority of the time making sexual innuendos and bashing Dadsy on her wall. My Judge, hereby named "Her Awesomeness," has been dealing with this couple for a while now. Today they were in court to squabble about the young girl having a Facebook (and I mean this girl is well below the age required by Facebook policy to even qualify for an account). 

While duking it out, it became blatantly obvious that both of these parents were off their rockers. And that Her Awesomeness was getting pretty damn pissed. 

Imagine how much more pissed she became when she realized Momsy took her barely teenaged son to a place I'll call Knockers to celebrate his birthday...in clear violation of a court order regarding the consumption of alcohol around the children (hand to God, Her Awesomeness was actually quoted in the previous transcripts as saying the parents should view alcohol as seriously as cocaine if it was around the children, as the kids had been so over-exposed to alcohol in the past). 

Which brings me to my bet. As Bailiff Larry and I were waiting for Her Awesomeness's ruling, he figured out loud that Judge would probably hold Momsy in contempt (Knockers was just the beginning). Her Awesomeness is a really kickass and (extremely) sweet lady, so I naturally assumed it would take more to rile Judge up.

And of course, I was wrong. 

Which is why I'm now making brownies for the entire court tomorrow. 

But hey, I got to see someone arrested! TOTALLY WORTH IT. 

Lucy in the Sky with Cubic Zirconium

This week was pretty much the week from Hell. I had a shitton of stuff I had to make happen, including a few interviews for externships next semester, a presentation for one of my classes, and a gazillion client interviews that somehow had to take place. But somehow I got through it and it's now Friday and I'm sitting in my house clutching two bags of Goodwill purchases and rocking myself like a baby preparing to make dinner like a big kid. (Okay, I did go to Goodwill.)

The most interesting thing to take place this week was probably one of the interviews for a judicial externship. I went in and introduced myself and the judge (who I have NEVER EVER MET BEFORE) said it was nice to see me again, effectively shaming me into a pool of self-doubt about whether we had, in fact, ever actually been introduced before. I maintain we hadn't. But I digress. After our standard repartee regarding why I want the externship and my studies (which I kinda like, because I always seem to have a new answer), we started to meander into other topics.

Like how she once represented a woman in a divorce proceeding who always smelled kinda funny and she never knew what the scent was. Until the lady was arrested for meth. (Oops for requesting child custody.)

Or how I had done an internship this summer and was scared shitless about the job and how much I anticipated hating it (I may have substituted in crap instead) and how I actually ended up loving it. (Maybe that's kinda relevant.)

Or how it's impossible for someone to overdose on LSD, and how the judge had always kinda wanted to try it, but figured she would have a flashback twenty years down the road in court and so she never did.

And how LSD is now being advocated for people suffering severe depression and it supposedly actually works.

And how anytime I smell pot, I want to barf all over the place and how I hate getting on the bus because I never know if the bus will smell like Reefer Joe over in the corner who just got done toking it up right before he boarded.

Oh, and how I saw pot the first time when I was in college and how I had a minor freakout.

And how she knew kids that smoked pot all the time in law school and once they pulled it out in front of her and she also had a minor freakout.

We then agreed that legalizing drugs wasn't necessarily a problem, since the people who are going to try heroin are going to do it regardless of whether it's legal or not, and we just don't want to have to deal with people doing it in public.

Yes, people, I spent approximately 25.3465 minutes of a 30 minute interview discussing drugs...with a circuit judge.

She offered me the externship the next morning. And naturally I accepted.

I'm pretty sure this cover letter covers it all......

Click on it to make it bigger. Happy Hump Day.

--Dr. J

With interest

My father, Danny, did not go to college. Yes, it was a different time. Yes, he has had to work his way up the ladder. But let me tell you, he's got something a lot of people of my generation do not have: work ethic (and a damn good job). Nowadays people expect a college diploma to double as an example of their work ethic....or the work ethic itself. And friends, a college degree does not a hard worker make.

Students throughout America are facing record amounts of student loan debt. College is not looked at as a privilege anymore....it's expected. And a college degree is now the equivalent of a high school diploma. Unfortunately, what most people do not realize is that many degrees are completely unnecessary for the field they wish to go into, and that they would almost certainly be better served to spend four (or five) years receiving valuable work-related experience than throwing their money away learning how to properly participate in a kegstand or getting their general studies degrees. That is not to say a college degree is not valuable, but for many, it's unnecessary and expensive. If you want to be a doctor, you should go to college. If you want to be a plumber.....maybe you should get an apprenticeship or go to trade school (which is NOT embarrassing--I don't think I'll ever understand the elitist attitude about trade schools). And FYI, plumbers don't do too badly as far as salary goes.

Seeing as how I'm a law student, you can imagine I've taken on a little bit of debt. Around me, I see people wracking up thousands of dollars in debt. I see them taking out Student Plus loans because the regular loan amount just won't cut it for them. I am allowed roughly $11,000 per semester worth of student loans (and of that, just under half is subsidized and the other is not). My tuition costs about $5000 a semester, which is on the EXTREMELY LOW END for law schools. If I were taking out the maximum amount of student loans, I would graduate about $66,000 in the hole. The past few semesters, I have taken only the subsidized loans, meaning my loans are NOT accruing interest while I am in school. Which also means I receive about $4500 per semester, an amount that doesn't even fully cover my tuition. I'm blessed that my parents cover the rest of my expenses. Because of this, I strive to keep my living expenses low. Well, actually, I'm just a cheap person, but that's neither here nor there.

I went to undergrad at a public school. My mom pushed me to apply (literally) for every scholarship for which I was eligible. So I did. Because of this, everything was paid for. Everything. And I didn't even qualify for need-based aid (so don't give me that pitiful excuse). Since I was able to graduate debt-free from undergrad, my parents feel no qualms about helping me out in law school. I got a job my third year of undergrad when I decided to live off campus--to pay for basic living expenses. I was not too good to wait tables, and I learned a lot about diplomacy doing so. I used my tip money to buy things I wanted, to pay my electricity and water bills, and for petty expenses. This is something almost anyone can do. Which is why I don't understand how so many people graduate from UNDERGRAD with outstanding (even incredible) amounts of debt (this is before we even get to grad school or other types of post-secondary education.)

Except I can. I saw people taking trips with their student loans. I still see people buy shittons of booze when their checks come in. They finance expensive vacations, luxuries, and (yes, I'VE SEEN IT) plastic surgery with their student loans. People, the madness must stop.

You are not too good for a job in a service field. You are not too good to go to a public school. And you are certainly not entitled to blow through student loans like monopoly money. Colleges that cost 40K a semester are not necessary. Student loan debt, to some degree, may be necessary. But an undergraduate debt of $100,000? No, that's not necessary. Especially considering you most likely took on this debt by going to an expensive private school that provided no better education than one you could receive from a public university.

If you decide to take on student loans, consider the type of job you'll have in the future. Ask yourself realistically if you'll be able to pay off the loans you incur with the job position for which you will qualify. Compare universities and ask yourself if they offer a unique degree program or unbeatable statistics regarding the type of education you wish to pursue. Hunt for scholarship opportunities, sign up for a student work program, and inquire about receiving in-state tuition. Never take out more than is necessary.

Because student loans? They never go away.

And you will have to pay them back in full......with interest.

What my Netflix account says about me....

Netflix tracks the types of movies you watch. It asks you to rate them on a star system as well. And then it generates lists of more movies you may like. Since I have put my movies in, and added some Leonidas would like, then topped it off by placating Calvin (remember, my little brother?) with some weird-looking cancelled-after-ten-episodes cartoon, I've got a pretty random array of suggestions.

And I'm trying to not let my feelings be hurt.....which is pretty hard, considering they've pegged me as liking "Understated TV dramas featuring a strong female lead." Their main suggestion? MURDER.SHE.WROTE.

You know, the show with the seven hundred year old woman? (I think she was in Hooke.) Or maybe the Bible. Who knows?

Another suggestion? MISS.MARPLE.

Don't be worried folks, because I apparently like "Raunchy Dysfunctional-Family TV Comedies" too. You know, like South Park (which I do), the Cult of Cartman (which I was unaware of until this time but just added to my instant queue), and Family Guy.

Wait...what? FAMILY GUY? My hatred is best summed up by the South Park episode that makes fun of Family Guy under the guise of an old Laverne and Shirley episode. And seals.

I'm going to ignore the "Inspiring Coming of Age movies for 11-12" like Free Willy and the Black Stallion....when I was 12 and now, I still felt like killing myself while watching those movies. Wild animals in captivity? No thanks.

I'm pretty sure the first description is meant for me...a 90 year old woman confined to her home, sitting on her couch with a blanket in her lap, with her humidifier on, watching Murder She Wrote.

Although maybe I could pretend to be the 11-12 year old that needs some inspiration by seeing animals caged much like I'm metaphorically caged in by overbearing parents that don't understand anything?

Or maybe I'd prefer to be the immature 15 year old guy sitting in the basement, huffing paint, and watching Family Guy (because frankly, that's probably the only way that show will ever be amusing).

Netflix, I'm afraid you know me too well.

And that, quite frankly, is terrifying.

Continued interest....

Tomorrow I've got a job interview. I'd really like to get it; not because it's a field I'd particularly enjoy, but because it pays well. I somehow managed to forget I'd already interviewed for them once (last summer), and got the big N.O. I'm glad they helped remind me when they emailed me thanking me for my continued interest in their firm. I wish I could have told them no, I have a continued interest in not mooching off Maxine and Danny (which I am gleefully doing right now, to their chagrin). I have a continued interest in building my resume. I have a continued interest in learning about the law. Them? Meh; not so much.

Considering my continued interests in re-interviewing for a firm who let the doorknob hit me where the good Lord split me when I left, I've been playing out interview scenarios in my head. Best case scenario? I charm their pants off, then still get a no. Seriously. I have gotten more rejections than Jonah Hill before he struck it rich in Superbad. Worst case scenario? It's already happened:

Interviewer: So tell me what you know about the CIA. (That's who I was interviewing for. How the fuck I got past the initial resume collection is BEYOND ME.)
 Me: Not that much. Y'all must be doing your job right! 

I am not kidding. I actually said that. In an interview. With the CIA.

Good thing this isn't a governmental job.

Because I'm pretty sure I've made it on some form of a "do not hire" list.

When adults act like children....

I admit it: I can act like a child sometimes (Maxine can attest to this). Ultimately, though, I put on my big girl panties, take a deep breath, and approach the problem like a rational (grown up) person.

SO WHY CAN'T EVERYONE ELSE DO THE SAME DAMN THING????

Lawyers (and law students) are particularly guilty of behaving childishly. You see them bickering within briefs, participating in pissing contests at your local bar (generally these are not literal pissing contests although it would not surprise me), and stabbing each other behind their backs. Recently, I've been hit by the crazy train. Let me tell you something: I don't deal well with cray-cray. Most the time, I tell someone they are acting that way, and let's just say the crazy hits the fan. This most recent time, however, it's just not that easy to tell someone they are bat-shit crazy, because I'm afraid she might take her billyclub and break my kneecaps. Why you ask? Because she's assumed the role of child and mother (and no, this is not my mother we are talking about).

I deal even worse with someone who presumes to tell me what to do, especially when they are NOT my mother (and Maxine can tell you I don't like taking orders from her either). Especially when she goes behind my back and involves people in an effort to force me to bend to her will. Newsflash: coming to me first would have been the best idea. If I don't immediately answer your emails, it's because I'm trying to figure out a way to tell you that you're a fucking lunatic. A followup email is the correct gesture, not an email to people in charge of stuff telling them of my plans that have not been verified and that you have in store for me. Just so you know, I've contacted those people in charge, because I don't give a fuck about someone else's opinion of me (although maybe I should). Before it's all over, I will out you and your craziness, and you will hopefully learn your lessons: (1) to communicate in a non-crazy manner; (2) to check before you assume; (3) to not fuck with me.

If you are in a position of power, then so be it. I, however, am NOT your minion. I am not your Igore. I am NOT your Bonnie. And I am not your bitch.