During a cold day this semester I was sitting quietly in class listening to the teacher and I caught my self doing something that I do quite often.
People watching
I watched the people in my class play with their face, or absent mindedly twirl their hair, or annoyingly click their pen, or stare in wonder waiting for something important to fall from the professor’s mouth so that they could furiously write it down. While doing this I noticed something odd about the row of students in front of me.
They are all dressed in the same black fleece jacket with the same white logo on the back shoulder “The North Face”. Not just one or two of them. The entire row minus one or two non-conformist. Looking around the room I noticed it was nearly the same.
The North face makes high performance mountaineering apparel and equipment.
Fleece jackets run from $80 and up $230 and the shells run about the same.
My whole life I have hung out with a pretty outdoorsy crowd. Apart from hunters, I have a number of friends that are into nature based high risk activities: Rock climbers, boulderers (like climbers but with less equipment and difficulty), long distance hikers, cavers (apparently they don’t like to be called “spelunkers” but you can recognize them by that black and yellow bat bumper sticker), whitewater enthusiasts, etc. You get the picture.
The point is that these people rely heavily on their gear. If it fails, they wind up hurt or at the very lest uncomfortable. The North face was a common brand in these circles because they made high quality expedition wear that was dependable. It was warm, kept you dry, and packed light. Used to be that if you saw a guy wearing a North Face jacket you knew he was into some outdoorsy stuff or at least he was wearing THAT guys jacket.
I don’t personally own a North face jacket of any kind. Not that I would not. I just don’t plan on trekking on any glaciers in the near future.
But now every body has one. Even the chick that doesn’t own a pair of tennis shoes, much less a pair of hiking boots, is wearing one. I dare say that none of these people are trekking to any remote part of the world within the near future or ever. But they are wearing that guy’s jacket. The name brand has become so diluted that it doesn’t mean what it once did. It is apparent that The North face has become (dare I say it) the “Members Only jacket” of the 2000’s and ranks right up there with Ferrari brand folding sunglasses.
Maybe there is some kind of “you can’t read a book by its cover” lesson that I am supposed to learn here. And that you can’t assume anything about a person by the way they look. But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would you wear the uniform of something that you were not? It is kind of like a woman who is dressed like a hooker standing on the corner in a shady part of town who is deeply offended when someone offers her money for sex. The cops would be like “Geez, you are wearing a hooker’s uniform lady. What did you expect?”
It just seems out of place. But nobody says anything.
Kind of like the Toyota Pre-Runner –
It looks like a 4wd. It has big tires like a 4wd. It sits up high off the ground like a 4wd drive. It rides like a 4wd. It is JUST NOT a 4wd (which makes it the hermaphrodite of truck world so to speak).
Somehow I think if I walk up to any of those people and started a conversation about rappelling belay devices that they wouldn’t know what in the world I was talking about and think I was crazy.
“I’m sorry lady. But you ARE wearing a mountain climber’s uniform. What did you expect?”
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
The Lost Valentine Post
I wrote this a while back at valentines day. I just found it. So here it is.
Dear prospective Valentine,
Since I am not actually celebrating the 14th of February as a holiday in the sense of Valentine’s Day I am unable to send you celebratory Valentine’s Day wishes.
I do however wish you a happy 14th of February, as I hope that you have a happy 15th, 16th, 17th, etc…
As I do not wish to celebrate the 14th of February for any other reason than it is another day to be alive, I am not of the mind to wish you any other thing than that your day is free from horror and disfiguring accidents.
While I do understand that you as a female may put more stock into this day than others, I am disappointed that you have bought into the notion of prepackaged romance and commercialized love. This is noted by the fact that the Greeting Card Association “estimates that women purchase approximately 85 percent of all valentines’ cards.” (Side Bar - Please note that any time you see a statistical average in the same sentence as the words “estimates” and “approximate” that the statistic is BS)
You should be aware that you will not receive from me a $150 bouquet of long stemmed roses that sell on any other day for $30. You will not receive from me the obligatory box of confection or a preprinted $8 sentiment on folded cardstock paper.
In an effort to do more of what seems to be required of relationships today, I have decided to be truthful. I don’t care about Valentine’s Day. It is a holiday that purports to celebrate love and relationships through commercial purchases (kind of like Christmas only without the family, food, celebration of the birth of Jesus or any of that meaningful stuff). In reality Valentines Day was a Roman fertility festival that was revived by Ester Howland to generate business for he father’s stationary store. The greeting card industry quickly adopted it in order to generate sales. (The flower and candy industry tagged along for the ride.)
The argument in the opposite (or to play devil’s advocate so to speak) is that the chick is the one who actually cares about Valentines Day. Because the girl cares about Valentines Day, the guy is obliged to also care about it because it means something to the girl and since the girl means something to the guy, he must then care about Valentines Day, participate in Valentines Day, and, squander money on soon forgotten trinkets of commercialized affection for Valentines Day.
All is fair in love and war.
So Riddle me this:
Can you tell me what a zone defense is?
Who took over Joe Kines position at Alabama? (Hint: it is not Nick Saban)
Can you recite any of the quotes from “Josey Wales” or “Full Metal Jacket”?
Do you know the difference in a pilsner and lager?
Your argument might be: “NO. I don’t know about that stuff. I don’t care about that stuff. That stuff is not important to me. Why does any of it matter?”
My point exactly.
Dear prospective Valentine,
Since I am not actually celebrating the 14th of February as a holiday in the sense of Valentine’s Day I am unable to send you celebratory Valentine’s Day wishes.
I do however wish you a happy 14th of February, as I hope that you have a happy 15th, 16th, 17th, etc…
As I do not wish to celebrate the 14th of February for any other reason than it is another day to be alive, I am not of the mind to wish you any other thing than that your day is free from horror and disfiguring accidents.
While I do understand that you as a female may put more stock into this day than others, I am disappointed that you have bought into the notion of prepackaged romance and commercialized love. This is noted by the fact that the Greeting Card Association “estimates that women purchase approximately 85 percent of all valentines’ cards.” (Side Bar - Please note that any time you see a statistical average in the same sentence as the words “estimates” and “approximate” that the statistic is BS)
You should be aware that you will not receive from me a $150 bouquet of long stemmed roses that sell on any other day for $30. You will not receive from me the obligatory box of confection or a preprinted $8 sentiment on folded cardstock paper.
In an effort to do more of what seems to be required of relationships today, I have decided to be truthful. I don’t care about Valentine’s Day. It is a holiday that purports to celebrate love and relationships through commercial purchases (kind of like Christmas only without the family, food, celebration of the birth of Jesus or any of that meaningful stuff). In reality Valentines Day was a Roman fertility festival that was revived by Ester Howland to generate business for he father’s stationary store. The greeting card industry quickly adopted it in order to generate sales. (The flower and candy industry tagged along for the ride.)
The argument in the opposite (or to play devil’s advocate so to speak) is that the chick is the one who actually cares about Valentines Day. Because the girl cares about Valentines Day, the guy is obliged to also care about it because it means something to the girl and since the girl means something to the guy, he must then care about Valentines Day, participate in Valentines Day, and, squander money on soon forgotten trinkets of commercialized affection for Valentines Day.
All is fair in love and war.
So Riddle me this:
Can you tell me what a zone defense is?
Who took over Joe Kines position at Alabama? (Hint: it is not Nick Saban)
Can you recite any of the quotes from “Josey Wales” or “Full Metal Jacket”?
Do you know the difference in a pilsner and lager?
Your argument might be: “NO. I don’t know about that stuff. I don’t care about that stuff. That stuff is not important to me. Why does any of it matter?”
My point exactly.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Fun with Spanish words
have this friend who is taking Spanish lessons.
She decided to take sticky notes and label almost everything in her house with the Spanish equivalent of the word for that item. So all over the house there are words written in Spanish on objects.
While she wasn’t around I placed a few extra ones. For instance I labeled a lamp, some dog food, and a stereo with the correct Spanish translation.
However, I also translated a few extra things for her.
The steak in the freezer I labeled “carne de caballo”
Translation:
Horse meat
The non diary creamer in the fridge I labeled "leche materna”
Translation:
Breast milk
The remote control I labeled “el consolador”
Translation:
The dildo
“Honey whats for dinner?”
“I’m making carne de caballo”
“Mmm. Mmm. That sounds delicious.”
“Would you like some leche de materna in your coffee?”
And my favorite
“Honey I am bored. Hand me el consalador.”
She decided to take sticky notes and label almost everything in her house with the Spanish equivalent of the word for that item. So all over the house there are words written in Spanish on objects.
While she wasn’t around I placed a few extra ones. For instance I labeled a lamp, some dog food, and a stereo with the correct Spanish translation.
However, I also translated a few extra things for her.
The steak in the freezer I labeled “carne de caballo”
Translation:
Horse meat
The non diary creamer in the fridge I labeled "leche materna”
Translation:
Breast milk
The remote control I labeled “el consolador”
Translation:
The dildo
“Honey whats for dinner?”
“I’m making carne de caballo”
“Mmm. Mmm. That sounds delicious.”
“Would you like some leche de materna in your coffee?”
And my favorite
“Honey I am bored. Hand me el consalador.”
Friday, February 23, 2007
Gumpisms
By popular demand “Gumpisms” are back
To refresh your memory – Because I live in Montgomery I constantly get barraged with new “street terms” for things. So I am starting my own ghetto dictionary called “Gumpisms”. That way you can be caught up on the new slang and never left out of the loop when talking to your friends.
This weeks entry:
Ridin’ crook’d on chrome
Or
Riding crooked on chrome
The act of driving a car with after market rims (see “Dubs”) and a “tricked out suspension system” (see “switches”) while the system is engaged thus leaving the car in motion while also being at a precarious angle (or crooked) in relation to the road surface.
To refresh your memory – Because I live in Montgomery I constantly get barraged with new “street terms” for things. So I am starting my own ghetto dictionary called “Gumpisms”. That way you can be caught up on the new slang and never left out of the loop when talking to your friends.
This weeks entry:
Ridin’ crook’d on chrome
Or
Riding crooked on chrome
The act of driving a car with after market rims (see “Dubs”) and a “tricked out suspension system” (see “switches”) while the system is engaged thus leaving the car in motion while also being at a precarious angle (or crooked) in relation to the road surface.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Saying the wrong thing
The other day in Civil Procedure the professor called on a girl in the back. He then called on me as co-council several times. Each time was a quick hard question that required some thought and occasionally an inventive answer. Not that I was able to do that every time. But that is what was required.
Last night we were on our way to go eat and the subject came up. This is the conversaton that ensued:
Me: What was the deal Professor G. ?
Brent: It was weird. He kept calling on you
Me: Yea, I know. He banged me really hard at least six times.
Uncomftorable silence followed by mad laughter as the car almost swerves off the road.
Last night we were on our way to go eat and the subject came up. This is the conversaton that ensued:
Me: What was the deal Professor G. ?
Brent: It was weird. He kept calling on you
Me: Yea, I know. He banged me really hard at least six times.
Uncomftorable silence followed by mad laughter as the car almost swerves off the road.
I can't write it.
Due to the popularity of this blog and the fact that people read it that I would otherwise write about – I am unable to say some things that I would like to say.
So I decided to make a list and if you read the blog you can pick the comment that goes to you. You know who you are. They are no particular order.
POST REDACTED
WOW!
I can not believe the number of incredibly negative responses that I received to this blog. There were 15 separate comments. Almost all has been redacted because some of the things that were mentioned people automatically thought applied to them. Others thought that one applied to them when I actually meant for another to apply to them.
In particular item 2 specifically did not apply to the person who probably believes that it did.
Two of the items have been remedied and the other ones never will be.
I would like to remind my readers that I in NO WAY mean for this blog to be a place which I would ever air my personal grievances against anyone. I simply was ranting and thought some of it was funny.
However, I stand by number 4. :-)
So I decided to make a list and if you read the blog you can pick the comment that goes to you. You know who you are. They are no particular order.
POST REDACTED
WOW!
I can not believe the number of incredibly negative responses that I received to this blog. There were 15 separate comments. Almost all has been redacted because some of the things that were mentioned people automatically thought applied to them. Others thought that one applied to them when I actually meant for another to apply to them.
In particular item 2 specifically did not apply to the person who probably believes that it did.
Two of the items have been remedied and the other ones never will be.
I would like to remind my readers that I in NO WAY mean for this blog to be a place which I would ever air my personal grievances against anyone. I simply was ranting and thought some of it was funny.
However, I stand by number 4. :-)
The evil gatekeeper and my appointment
I have an apt the other day. Like a good boy, I was early. I walk in and of course the secretary asks if I have an appointment.
Me: "Yes of course I do. I have a 2pm appointment."
Secretary: "Oh, I sent you an email that she might be a little late. It may be 2:15 before she gets back. Didn’t you check your email?"
Me: "Yes ma’am. I just checked it about 10 minutes ago."
Secretary: "Maybe it was a different email address. Do you have another one that you didn’t check?"
Me: "No ma’am. I actually checked all my email about 10 minutes ago."
Secretary: "Oh well maybe it didn’t go through."
Me: "That is ok. I’ll wait. Is it ok if I sit here?"
The secretary gives me a dirty look, a half smirk and nods. She closes a half finished game of solitaire and proceeds to shuffle some papers and tries to look busy. I know that is what she is doing because I have done it a million times before and I know what it looks like.
So I am sitting there thinking and making out a to-do list (note that a to-do list is almost as helpful to me as a mental note – but sometimes it helps to put things in order) I look up every once in a while and the secretary is eye-balling me and looking pissed off.
I was sitting there doodling and all of a sudden I realize:
This lady doesn’t even have my email address. She doesn’t even know what my first name is. There is no possible way that she could have sent me an email.
She was just flat out lying because she didn’t want me waiting in her office. She wanted me to leave, call back, reschedule, and go through this whole thing again. Just so she can goof off.
Why do people do that? There was no need for it. I stewed about it for a minute and was about to call her on it by asking her to what email address that she had sent the note.
About the time I was about to approach her, my appointment walked in and escorted me to her office. (Right on time by the way. If I had left and rescheduled this same office troll would be the one that gave me a hard time for having to reschedule for not showing up.)
I have worked in an office a few times and have never really liked all the pseudo drama that occurs. It just amazes me that people that work in offices become so engrossed in their little cubicle that the real world doesn’t matter to them. For all this lady knows, I drove 50 miles to get to this appointment. She didn’t care. It just upset her plan to screw around and do nothing. What a looser. That is what home is for. You go home, sit there and when somebody calls and asks what you are doing, you say “nothing”. You’ve got a job to do. Freaking do it. You take phone calls, make appointments, and whatever else you boss tells you to do with your miserable existence for 8 hours. Then you get to go home a goof off.
Not on my time lady! Now get to shuffling those papers!
Me: "Yes of course I do. I have a 2pm appointment."
Secretary: "Oh, I sent you an email that she might be a little late. It may be 2:15 before she gets back. Didn’t you check your email?"
Me: "Yes ma’am. I just checked it about 10 minutes ago."
Secretary: "Maybe it was a different email address. Do you have another one that you didn’t check?"
Me: "No ma’am. I actually checked all my email about 10 minutes ago."
Secretary: "Oh well maybe it didn’t go through."
Me: "That is ok. I’ll wait. Is it ok if I sit here?"
The secretary gives me a dirty look, a half smirk and nods. She closes a half finished game of solitaire and proceeds to shuffle some papers and tries to look busy. I know that is what she is doing because I have done it a million times before and I know what it looks like.
So I am sitting there thinking and making out a to-do list (note that a to-do list is almost as helpful to me as a mental note – but sometimes it helps to put things in order) I look up every once in a while and the secretary is eye-balling me and looking pissed off.
I was sitting there doodling and all of a sudden I realize:
This lady doesn’t even have my email address. She doesn’t even know what my first name is. There is no possible way that she could have sent me an email.
She was just flat out lying because she didn’t want me waiting in her office. She wanted me to leave, call back, reschedule, and go through this whole thing again. Just so she can goof off.
Why do people do that? There was no need for it. I stewed about it for a minute and was about to call her on it by asking her to what email address that she had sent the note.
About the time I was about to approach her, my appointment walked in and escorted me to her office. (Right on time by the way. If I had left and rescheduled this same office troll would be the one that gave me a hard time for having to reschedule for not showing up.)
I have worked in an office a few times and have never really liked all the pseudo drama that occurs. It just amazes me that people that work in offices become so engrossed in their little cubicle that the real world doesn’t matter to them. For all this lady knows, I drove 50 miles to get to this appointment. She didn’t care. It just upset her plan to screw around and do nothing. What a looser. That is what home is for. You go home, sit there and when somebody calls and asks what you are doing, you say “nothing”. You’ve got a job to do. Freaking do it. You take phone calls, make appointments, and whatever else you boss tells you to do with your miserable existence for 8 hours. Then you get to go home a goof off.
Not on my time lady! Now get to shuffling those papers!
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
GI Joe with kung fu grip
ITS BACK!!!
Watch the original 70's commercial here
http://www.hasbro.com/gijoe/kungfugrip/
This blog may be too popular
The other evening I was working in the library when a rather nasty storm hit.
Classes were canceled. Which is kind of stupid because classes were already in session and by the time the classes were scheduled to be over with the storm would have passed. It was like saying “Hey, it is thundering and lightning, raining like hell, about to start hailing, and there is a possibility of tornadoes. Why don’t you run outside, get into your car and go driving in it.”
I was standing in the foyer looking at the rain and marble sized hail beating our cars with one of my professors who happens to be a very nice lady. She had just got off the phone talking to her kids to make sure they were inside and safe. (They were not of course. They were outside watching hail beat the heck out of people’s cars as well. Maybe they don’t have cable. I dunno.)
Making conversation I start to tell what I considered to be an interesting story.
Mid-sentence she stopped me and said “This story doesn’t involve glass eyes or dog poo does it?”
If this doesn't make any sense to you then go see "The Glass eye" post in the January 2007 Archive
Classes were canceled. Which is kind of stupid because classes were already in session and by the time the classes were scheduled to be over with the storm would have passed. It was like saying “Hey, it is thundering and lightning, raining like hell, about to start hailing, and there is a possibility of tornadoes. Why don’t you run outside, get into your car and go driving in it.”
I was standing in the foyer looking at the rain and marble sized hail beating our cars with one of my professors who happens to be a very nice lady. She had just got off the phone talking to her kids to make sure they were inside and safe. (They were not of course. They were outside watching hail beat the heck out of people’s cars as well. Maybe they don’t have cable. I dunno.)
Making conversation I start to tell what I considered to be an interesting story.
Mid-sentence she stopped me and said “This story doesn’t involve glass eyes or dog poo does it?”
If this doesn't make any sense to you then go see "The Glass eye" post in the January 2007 Archive
legal movies
A Time to Kill
The other night I came home from studying when the library closed and grabbed a quick snack. I had planned to relax for a few minutes, check my email, and watch TV for a few minutes.
“A time to kill” was on. If you are not familiar with it then you really need to watch it or maybe read the book. It is by far Grisham’s best work.
The story line is simple. (Caution: Spoiler) A black man who feels the justice system has failed to protect his family takes the law into his own hands. The story follows the trial and the surrounding racial tensions that arise. It is a uniquely southern story reminiscent of “To kill a mockingbird”. The movie is star packed and Jack Brigance, the lawyer for the defendant, is played by a young Mathew McConaughey.
I once owned the VHS tape but wore it out. If I could fast forward it till the end and watch the lawyer’s closing speech, I would. But it was on TV, so I watched the rest of it.
It is one of those movies that make people decide to want to be lawyers and take on the unwinable cause
My favorite line from the movie:
“What is it in us that seeks the truth? Is it our minds or is it our hearts?”
It reminds me of what was said of Atticus Finch:
“There are some men in this world who are born to do our unpleasant jobs for us”…
“We’re paying him the highest tribute we can pay a man. We trust him to do it right.”
Anyway, McConaughey delivers a soliloquy as his closing statement that convinces the jury to return a not guilty verdict. The camera cuts to a jury member and a single tear rolls down her cheek. And you know he has already won. Snatching victory from the snarling jaws of defeat.
We all want to be that lawyer. We want to be that guy who takes on the case that can’t be won because it is the right thing to do. We want to be that guy who saves the world- one case at a time. We want to triumph.
After almost two years of dishing it out and law school has not taken that desire from me.
I hope it never dies.
Sometimes it is good just to sit back and think about why we have decided to do what we do and why we suffer what we suffer in order to make that dream come true.
The other night I came home from studying when the library closed and grabbed a quick snack. I had planned to relax for a few minutes, check my email, and watch TV for a few minutes.
“A time to kill” was on. If you are not familiar with it then you really need to watch it or maybe read the book. It is by far Grisham’s best work.
The story line is simple. (Caution: Spoiler) A black man who feels the justice system has failed to protect his family takes the law into his own hands. The story follows the trial and the surrounding racial tensions that arise. It is a uniquely southern story reminiscent of “To kill a mockingbird”. The movie is star packed and Jack Brigance, the lawyer for the defendant, is played by a young Mathew McConaughey.
I once owned the VHS tape but wore it out. If I could fast forward it till the end and watch the lawyer’s closing speech, I would. But it was on TV, so I watched the rest of it.
It is one of those movies that make people decide to want to be lawyers and take on the unwinable cause
My favorite line from the movie:
“What is it in us that seeks the truth? Is it our minds or is it our hearts?”
It reminds me of what was said of Atticus Finch:
“There are some men in this world who are born to do our unpleasant jobs for us”…
“We’re paying him the highest tribute we can pay a man. We trust him to do it right.”
Anyway, McConaughey delivers a soliloquy as his closing statement that convinces the jury to return a not guilty verdict. The camera cuts to a jury member and a single tear rolls down her cheek. And you know he has already won. Snatching victory from the snarling jaws of defeat.
We all want to be that lawyer. We want to be that guy who takes on the case that can’t be won because it is the right thing to do. We want to be that guy who saves the world- one case at a time. We want to triumph.
After almost two years of dishing it out and law school has not taken that desire from me.
I hope it never dies.
Sometimes it is good just to sit back and think about why we have decided to do what we do and why we suffer what we suffer in order to make that dream come true.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Bad advice and valentines day
Yahoo recently has started to do this thing that MSN has been doing for some time. The top of the page has some links to articles of interest. Usually it has something to do with what is going on in the world. If it is Christmas there is an article or two on what to get a boy / girl friend. That type of thing.
I read this article for today and of course it was on first dinner date dos and don’ts because it is near Valentines Day. Fair enough. I have done my reading for school and have a few minutes to spare. So I read the article. One set for the men and one set for the women. So far so good.
Number 10 of the women’s article reads:
10. Even if you asked him out, give him a chance to pick up the tab (even if you end up treating or splitting). I know we live in a world of equality and all, but some things make a guy feel good and picking up dinner is often one of them.
Where number 10 of the men’s article reads:
10. Pay the bill, already. She'll do the faux wallet-reach, but that doesn't mean she actually wants to reach inside. If this one's a keeper, she'll pick-up the nightcap
Complete hogwash! Ask any guy. Very seldom have I EVER had a woman offer to pick up the tab. EVER.
Granted, if we are friends and I have paid relentlessly every time, eventually she feels obligated to pay. Recently I was surprised when the chick pulled out her card before I could even reach for the check. She is a good friend. I invited her. It may or may not have been a date. But nonetheless I was excited about it.
Last year I went out with a woman who makes many, many times what I will make my first year as an attorney. She drove a car that I won’t even be able to afford for several years. You get the idea.
We met at a really nice (read that as expensive) restaurant that SHE chose. We had dinner and a couple of drinks. I was well dressed, friendly, complimentary, and on my best behavior. We parted ways afterwards and didn’t go out again. I smiled, never said a word regarding the cost or tip and spent nearly $100 (the whole way home I added up how many weeks of Ramen noodles that date was going to cost me)
Now some of you are thinking – So?
I am a law student. I live on loans. I buy everything on sale. I go to the dollar store looking for deals. I look at my bank account everyday. I just don’t have the money to spend. But to make a decent impression I felt the need to do the gentlemanly thing and pay as expected. Once in a while is great. Even the majority of the time it is expected. But this scenario has played out time and again. And again! And it does so for every guy.
Those two numb sculls who wrote the article are clueless.
This line kills me:
“some things make a guy feel good and picking up dinner is often one of them.”
Yes, yes! You have it exactly! I love to spend money feeding other people and buying them drinks because it makes me feels good inside. It completes me as a person.
How about this one:
“Even if you asked him out, give him a chance to pick up the tab”
At this point I roll my eyes and clicked away.
Think about it.
Marriage advice columnist – Divorced
Political columnist – washed up has been (or never was) that gets his jollies trashing those in the public light
Fashion columnist – trash all but the most spectacularly dressed (while they themselves look like hobos)
Child rearing columnist – abusive overbearing parent with gay children
And finally
Dating advice columnist – these fall into one of two categories
1. Already married and clueless or forgetful about dating – (side bar – once a dating advice columnist gets married they automatically get cut from writing about it. They get to write the column on marriage and kids.
2. People with only pets to soothe their lonely rambling about dating as obesity sets in.
I don’t think that girls honestly understand the amount that guys spend on them.
Last spring I dated a girl for about a month (I hope she never reads this). At one point she made the comment that she bet that I was happy to be dating someone that didn’t expect for me to buy everything and that she contributed her share. I agreed and complimented her because some help is better than none.
But…
Guess again sweetheart.
During our relationship just so happened to be at a time when I was making a careful accounting of where I was spending money in order to work out a better budget. I wrote down everything. I kept all my receipts. In doing so I had to estimate her portion of all our food, beverages, etc. I spent well over $1000 on her. This is only food and drinks. She had no idea.
Once again, if you are thinking “So?” to yourself you can kiss it. That’s a lot of money on my budget.
The point to my female readers is this.
Don’t listen to these people. They are idiots. Nobody likes to spend money that they don’t have to. A guy asks you out because he is interested in you. He is only paying because he knows that you expect him to. If you are interested it him, show it by at least offering to go half. He will more than likely not let you and it may seem odd to him because no chick ever does it. But he will respect you. If you are not interested in him, it is your duty to pay your half and move on.
Equality has its ups and downs. In an era where more women go to college than men, you probably make more money than he does. If you make a half hearted offer to pony up even 40% of the time he will be impressed.
If he is in law school, take the poor boy out. He is broke. ;-)
Now that I have dished out my dating advice I suppose I should go buy a cat and some Twinkies, or get married.
I read this article for today and of course it was on first dinner date dos and don’ts because it is near Valentines Day. Fair enough. I have done my reading for school and have a few minutes to spare. So I read the article. One set for the men and one set for the women. So far so good.
Number 10 of the women’s article reads:
10. Even if you asked him out, give him a chance to pick up the tab (even if you end up treating or splitting). I know we live in a world of equality and all, but some things make a guy feel good and picking up dinner is often one of them.
Where number 10 of the men’s article reads:
10. Pay the bill, already. She'll do the faux wallet-reach, but that doesn't mean she actually wants to reach inside. If this one's a keeper, she'll pick-up the nightcap
Complete hogwash! Ask any guy. Very seldom have I EVER had a woman offer to pick up the tab. EVER.
Granted, if we are friends and I have paid relentlessly every time, eventually she feels obligated to pay. Recently I was surprised when the chick pulled out her card before I could even reach for the check. She is a good friend. I invited her. It may or may not have been a date. But nonetheless I was excited about it.
Last year I went out with a woman who makes many, many times what I will make my first year as an attorney. She drove a car that I won’t even be able to afford for several years. You get the idea.
We met at a really nice (read that as expensive) restaurant that SHE chose. We had dinner and a couple of drinks. I was well dressed, friendly, complimentary, and on my best behavior. We parted ways afterwards and didn’t go out again. I smiled, never said a word regarding the cost or tip and spent nearly $100 (the whole way home I added up how many weeks of Ramen noodles that date was going to cost me)
Now some of you are thinking – So?
I am a law student. I live on loans. I buy everything on sale. I go to the dollar store looking for deals. I look at my bank account everyday. I just don’t have the money to spend. But to make a decent impression I felt the need to do the gentlemanly thing and pay as expected. Once in a while is great. Even the majority of the time it is expected. But this scenario has played out time and again. And again! And it does so for every guy.
Those two numb sculls who wrote the article are clueless.
This line kills me:
“some things make a guy feel good and picking up dinner is often one of them.”
Yes, yes! You have it exactly! I love to spend money feeding other people and buying them drinks because it makes me feels good inside. It completes me as a person.
How about this one:
“Even if you asked him out, give him a chance to pick up the tab”
At this point I roll my eyes and clicked away.
Think about it.
Marriage advice columnist – Divorced
Political columnist – washed up has been (or never was) that gets his jollies trashing those in the public light
Fashion columnist – trash all but the most spectacularly dressed (while they themselves look like hobos)
Child rearing columnist – abusive overbearing parent with gay children
And finally
Dating advice columnist – these fall into one of two categories
1. Already married and clueless or forgetful about dating – (side bar – once a dating advice columnist gets married they automatically get cut from writing about it. They get to write the column on marriage and kids.
2. People with only pets to soothe their lonely rambling about dating as obesity sets in.
I don’t think that girls honestly understand the amount that guys spend on them.
Last spring I dated a girl for about a month (I hope she never reads this). At one point she made the comment that she bet that I was happy to be dating someone that didn’t expect for me to buy everything and that she contributed her share. I agreed and complimented her because some help is better than none.
But…
Guess again sweetheart.
During our relationship just so happened to be at a time when I was making a careful accounting of where I was spending money in order to work out a better budget. I wrote down everything. I kept all my receipts. In doing so I had to estimate her portion of all our food, beverages, etc. I spent well over $1000 on her. This is only food and drinks. She had no idea.
Once again, if you are thinking “So?” to yourself you can kiss it. That’s a lot of money on my budget.
The point to my female readers is this.
Don’t listen to these people. They are idiots. Nobody likes to spend money that they don’t have to. A guy asks you out because he is interested in you. He is only paying because he knows that you expect him to. If you are interested it him, show it by at least offering to go half. He will more than likely not let you and it may seem odd to him because no chick ever does it. But he will respect you. If you are not interested in him, it is your duty to pay your half and move on.
Equality has its ups and downs. In an era where more women go to college than men, you probably make more money than he does. If you make a half hearted offer to pony up even 40% of the time he will be impressed.
If he is in law school, take the poor boy out. He is broke. ;-)
Now that I have dished out my dating advice I suppose I should go buy a cat and some Twinkies, or get married.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Astronauts, diapers, and valentines day
So by now everyone has heard about the astronaut that drove non- stop across country while wearing a NASA space diaper so that she could attack a love rival. Someone asked me to comment on what happened.
What a beautiful valentines day gift.
“What did you do this weekend honey?”
“I drove cross country in a big diaper and a wig and doused that hussy you have been seeing with pepper spray. So, where do you want to do for dinner?”
Uhhhhhhh. She is crazy. End of story.
Speaking of crazy - Anna Nicole Smith is dead. Well that is a big surprise. I suppose they will want to say that she died of natural causes. They say her fridge was full of slim fast and methadone. I'm at a loss for words.
What a beautiful valentines day gift.
“What did you do this weekend honey?”
“I drove cross country in a big diaper and a wig and doused that hussy you have been seeing with pepper spray. So, where do you want to do for dinner?”
Uhhhhhhh. She is crazy. End of story.
Speaking of crazy - Anna Nicole Smith is dead. Well that is a big surprise. I suppose they will want to say that she died of natural causes. They say her fridge was full of slim fast and methadone. I'm at a loss for words.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Brent and Rebekha sittin' in a tree kay eye es es eye en gee
One of my best friends and my ex-roommate got engaged on Saturday. He pulled it off without a hitch. She said yes. I believe that he was pretty sure of himself because he had some of our friends hiding nearby taking pictures of the proposal.
I made sure to tell him that his sex life was almost over and that she would immediately start putting on weight, but he wouldn't be detered.
He joked about me being the "ring bearer". I said "Whatever dude, chicks love a guy in a tux. I'm in."
Below is the bulletin that she posted on Myspace. I copied it and put it here (minus all the pictures) because they are good friends of mine and I am proud for them both.
A few days ago, Brent asked me if I wanted to celebrate Valentines Day on Saturday, February 10, 2007, because I have Spanish class on Wednesday nights. On Saturday morning, Brent said he wanted us to go on a picnic in the Shakespeare Park for lunch. He said he had to go pick out a Valentines gift for me, and he asked me to pick up some lunch for our picnic. (I still had to go buy his gift too). At one o’clock, we packed our lunch and a blanket and started walking toward the park. It was really cold, so I tried to talk Brent into us just stopping and having our picnic in this open field, but Brent insisted that we should keep walking. We came to a hill, and Brent said, “The other side of that hill looks like a good spot.” When we got the other side of the hill, there was a blanket and two dozen pink and white roses waiting. The picnic spot was set up right next to the water, and the view was beautiful. Brent gave me my gift to open. It was a book entitled “365 Days of Happiness.” I started looking through it, and Brent said, “I got it for you, because I want to make you happy 365 days a year for the rest of your life.” Then I looked up at him, and he had an absolutely gorgeous ring in his hand. I immediately started crying. He said, “Will you marry me?” I hugged and kissed him, and he said, “Is that a yes? Did you say yes?” I said yes, and then he told me that our friends Amanda and Kenny were hiding nearby taking pictures. Now we have pictures of the whole proposal.We haven’t set a date yet, because we’re still deciding on location. We both want a destination wedding. The ring is a round one carat solitaire. Its absolutely beautiful.
Good luck you two.
ps
I accidentally deleted two comments when I hit the wrong button - sorry. Feel free to repost them and I will make sure they get up.
I made sure to tell him that his sex life was almost over and that she would immediately start putting on weight, but he wouldn't be detered.
He joked about me being the "ring bearer". I said "Whatever dude, chicks love a guy in a tux. I'm in."
Below is the bulletin that she posted on Myspace. I copied it and put it here (minus all the pictures) because they are good friends of mine and I am proud for them both.
A few days ago, Brent asked me if I wanted to celebrate Valentines Day on Saturday, February 10, 2007, because I have Spanish class on Wednesday nights. On Saturday morning, Brent said he wanted us to go on a picnic in the Shakespeare Park for lunch. He said he had to go pick out a Valentines gift for me, and he asked me to pick up some lunch for our picnic. (I still had to go buy his gift too). At one o’clock, we packed our lunch and a blanket and started walking toward the park. It was really cold, so I tried to talk Brent into us just stopping and having our picnic in this open field, but Brent insisted that we should keep walking. We came to a hill, and Brent said, “The other side of that hill looks like a good spot.” When we got the other side of the hill, there was a blanket and two dozen pink and white roses waiting. The picnic spot was set up right next to the water, and the view was beautiful. Brent gave me my gift to open. It was a book entitled “365 Days of Happiness.” I started looking through it, and Brent said, “I got it for you, because I want to make you happy 365 days a year for the rest of your life.” Then I looked up at him, and he had an absolutely gorgeous ring in his hand. I immediately started crying. He said, “Will you marry me?” I hugged and kissed him, and he said, “Is that a yes? Did you say yes?” I said yes, and then he told me that our friends Amanda and Kenny were hiding nearby taking pictures. Now we have pictures of the whole proposal.We haven’t set a date yet, because we’re still deciding on location. We both want a destination wedding. The ring is a round one carat solitaire. Its absolutely beautiful.
Good luck you two.
ps
I accidentally deleted two comments when I hit the wrong button - sorry. Feel free to repost them and I will make sure they get up.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Reader comments, Man boobs, and a simple lesson in contract law
I was surprised to find that a loyal reader had posted an anonymous comment on the NY Times v. Sullivan Blog below. I was even more surprised that the anonymous comment read “I will show you some big titties for another blog.” (Not my words, I just cut and pasted that.)
I initially thought that it was my friend "H." from class because we had briefly conversed on the subject of “man boobs” earlier in the day. It was a rather humorous conversation that evolved starting out with sweater vests, moving on to bullet proof vests, and somehow ending with man boobs.
I had composed this short letter to H. in reply.
Dear H.,
As enjoyable as our conversation was regarding “man boobs”, I regret to inform you that I have little interest in seeing yours. It is a matter of personal taste and lifestyle choice. I can assure you that it in no way detracts from you as a person. It is simply my own personal decision not to want to see your man boobs. If you wish to have someone look at your swollen breasts, I think that appropriate person would be your physician.
I suggest that we consider this matter closed and that we should never speak of it again.
Best of luck in your search for a man boob viewer in the future.
Kindest regards,
Jake
Later on however, I was informed that the anonymous message was left by a friend’s girl friend "E". E. is a girl with rather ample (yet proportionate) boobs. (She is a girl, she is his friend, it gets complicated after that – but I think it involves smooching.) I apologize to H. at this time because I just naturally assumed that he wanted me to see his man boobs. My bad dude.
So I wrote this letter to the now not-so-anonymous loyal reader.
E,
I would like to thank you for your interest in the blog and your generous offer which I have decided to accept. You should consider this blog to be for you!
Offer, acceptance, and consideration. We totally have a binding contract now. Sweet! Ask S. if you don’t believe me. I believe that you are legally bound to this seeing as how the offer was made so publicly and not later retracted. Feel free to go ahead and forward any pictures / video to me at this time. However, I would prefer digital images / video in order to make it easier to post them on the internet later.
Also, if you have any other similarly proportioned friends that wish to make similar offers, I would be happy to oblige.
Anything that I can do to make my readers happy.
Jake
Ps – I am totally kidding.
H.,
If you want to show me your man boobs. I am ok with that.
E.,
Uhhhhhh. Just send the pictures. We have a contract.
I initially thought that it was my friend "H." from class because we had briefly conversed on the subject of “man boobs” earlier in the day. It was a rather humorous conversation that evolved starting out with sweater vests, moving on to bullet proof vests, and somehow ending with man boobs.
I had composed this short letter to H. in reply.
Dear H.,
As enjoyable as our conversation was regarding “man boobs”, I regret to inform you that I have little interest in seeing yours. It is a matter of personal taste and lifestyle choice. I can assure you that it in no way detracts from you as a person. It is simply my own personal decision not to want to see your man boobs. If you wish to have someone look at your swollen breasts, I think that appropriate person would be your physician.
I suggest that we consider this matter closed and that we should never speak of it again.
Best of luck in your search for a man boob viewer in the future.
Kindest regards,
Jake
Later on however, I was informed that the anonymous message was left by a friend’s girl friend "E". E. is a girl with rather ample (yet proportionate) boobs. (She is a girl, she is his friend, it gets complicated after that – but I think it involves smooching.) I apologize to H. at this time because I just naturally assumed that he wanted me to see his man boobs. My bad dude.
So I wrote this letter to the now not-so-anonymous loyal reader.
E,
I would like to thank you for your interest in the blog and your generous offer which I have decided to accept. You should consider this blog to be for you!
Offer, acceptance, and consideration. We totally have a binding contract now. Sweet! Ask S. if you don’t believe me. I believe that you are legally bound to this seeing as how the offer was made so publicly and not later retracted. Feel free to go ahead and forward any pictures / video to me at this time. However, I would prefer digital images / video in order to make it easier to post them on the internet later.
Also, if you have any other similarly proportioned friends that wish to make similar offers, I would be happy to oblige.
Anything that I can do to make my readers happy.
Jake
Ps – I am totally kidding.
H.,
If you want to show me your man boobs. I am ok with that.
E.,
Uhhhhhh. Just send the pictures. We have a contract.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
A woman scorned
Oh what fun!
Today in class a girl raised her hand to ask a question. Someone started coughing in the back. She stood up, turned around, and lit into them. The tyrade lasted about 30 seconds and she threw in something about slackers and canned briefs.
I didn’t understand what was going on at first. This is one of only 2 classes that I have with this group of students. I just figured that it was another 1L flipping out. After class I cornered one of my 1L buds and she gave me the low down on what had really happened.
Apparently it had been going on for some time. Every time she spoke up in one of her classes one of the guys in the back would cough.
The professor intervened. He didn’t know what was going on and neither did a lot of us.
Apparently she learned of the intended interruptions over lunch from a friend who told her. (She being previously unaware). She also apparently took offense to this, being as it was coming from the resident class frat boy slackers.
Her message was clear.
"I don’t care if you don’t like me asking questions or think that my questions are stupid. I pay a lot of money to ask any damn thing I want. If you don’t like it come get some!"
I love a girl with a streak of fire in her!
Today in class a girl raised her hand to ask a question. Someone started coughing in the back. She stood up, turned around, and lit into them. The tyrade lasted about 30 seconds and she threw in something about slackers and canned briefs.
I didn’t understand what was going on at first. This is one of only 2 classes that I have with this group of students. I just figured that it was another 1L flipping out. After class I cornered one of my 1L buds and she gave me the low down on what had really happened.
Apparently it had been going on for some time. Every time she spoke up in one of her classes one of the guys in the back would cough.
The professor intervened. He didn’t know what was going on and neither did a lot of us.
Apparently she learned of the intended interruptions over lunch from a friend who told her. (She being previously unaware). She also apparently took offense to this, being as it was coming from the resident class frat boy slackers.
Her message was clear.
"I don’t care if you don’t like me asking questions or think that my questions are stupid. I pay a lot of money to ask any damn thing I want. If you don’t like it come get some!"
I love a girl with a streak of fire in her!
Monday, February 05, 2007
NY Times v. Sullivan
Today in Constitutional law class we were going over the N.Y. Times v. Sullivan case. It is a pivotal case and during law school a student will confront the case many times in regard to many different points. It is one of the key decisions supporting the freedom of the press. The actual malice standard requires that the plaintiff in a defamation or libel case prove that the publisher of the statement knew that the statement was false or acted in reckless disregard of its truth. Because of the extremely high burden of proof on the plaintiff, and the difficulty in proving essentially what is inside a person's head, such cases - when they involve public figures - rarely, if ever prevail.
Anyway, it comes out that one of the guys in our class is the grandson of one of the attorneys that worked on the case. Not a big surprise because this is Montgomery and this is where the case originally started. But still, that is kind of cool. Not because he is a relative of someone that handled an important Supreme Court case but because that he had to brief the case and not me.
Anyway, it comes out that one of the guys in our class is the grandson of one of the attorneys that worked on the case. Not a big surprise because this is Montgomery and this is where the case originally started. But still, that is kind of cool. Not because he is a relative of someone that handled an important Supreme Court case but because that he had to brief the case and not me.
Contacts
I got a new prescription for contacts Thursday.
I went to the optometrist at one of the local Wal-Marts. I know, I know. Entrusting your eyesight to the evil empire and all. But to tell the truth they have good prices and a pretty good doctor.
The doctor dilated my eyes. That kind of sucked. I was pretty much blind for a bout an hour or so. For some reason I am more sensitive than most people to drugs.
My pupils were as big as saucers. The optometrist said that I looked like I was stoned. I thought I looked more like I had insane cartoon squirrel eyes. Either way, apparently I was sensitive to the dilation drug and my eyes were really, really dilated. The doctor said something about people with light colored eyes being more sensitive to the drug.
All I know is that I had to wander around Wal-Mart until I could see well enough to drive home. This was obviously an evil plot by Wal-Mart to make me buy useless crap. And it worked.
Since I couldn’t see anyway, I turned on the TV and fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up it was to the history channel with a show about how farm tractors work.
Wow, they spent tens of thousands of dollars to produce this show and the only people who are watching it are either high or too lazy to change the channel.
It was about 4 hours before my eyes were somewhat back to normal.
I went to the optometrist at one of the local Wal-Marts. I know, I know. Entrusting your eyesight to the evil empire and all. But to tell the truth they have good prices and a pretty good doctor.
The doctor dilated my eyes. That kind of sucked. I was pretty much blind for a bout an hour or so. For some reason I am more sensitive than most people to drugs.
My pupils were as big as saucers. The optometrist said that I looked like I was stoned. I thought I looked more like I had insane cartoon squirrel eyes. Either way, apparently I was sensitive to the dilation drug and my eyes were really, really dilated. The doctor said something about people with light colored eyes being more sensitive to the drug.
All I know is that I had to wander around Wal-Mart until I could see well enough to drive home. This was obviously an evil plot by Wal-Mart to make me buy useless crap. And it worked.
Since I couldn’t see anyway, I turned on the TV and fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up it was to the history channel with a show about how farm tractors work.
Wow, they spent tens of thousands of dollars to produce this show and the only people who are watching it are either high or too lazy to change the channel.
It was about 4 hours before my eyes were somewhat back to normal.
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