Civil procedure at high noon

Yay! I appear to be putting my school on the map as the sole listed blogger on 'cleverwot', a site that indexes law student blogs. we need to get listed. we need all the help we can get.
It's currently finals, so the building stinks of fear and fills regularly with cluster fucks as we get our exams printed so the profs can tell us that no, Jamika is not liable and number 14 was in fact, B. After civil procedure the other day I had this strange desire to watch a Western, which was truly odd, since sweaty guys with guns and bad teeth really don't do anything for me. Here's the thing, though: I just spent two semesters of civil procedure learning the niceties of how to do this, that and the other thing, and maybe I'd like a little of the Old West when things were so simple. Why do we have to file motions? WHy don't we just kick people's asses anymore? How about a showdown at high noon? When some asshole pissed you off back then, you just knocked the table over, hit him over the head with a whiskey bottle and got on with your day; he therefore knew to never again, so long as ye both shall live, fuck with you. Now we have habeus corpus blah blah blah.
Perhaps this is why people watch wrestling. There just isn't enough good old fashioned ass kicking anymore. Maybe I should watch wrestling. Maybe I should be a wrestler! Only, it won't bring back the old west, and besides, if it did, I'd have to wear dresses.
Maybe I'll be a lawyer after all. Damn, because that means I still have two more exams to take...and I'm such a good shot, it really is a shame...

Tap my shoulder again, piss ant

I don't know why law school brings out the worst in people. I swear I try so hard to be thoughtful of others because we're all in this stressful situation with shitty resources together, but sometimes I just want to choke the living shit out of some asshole who desperately deserves it. Our school has two tiny computer labs and for the past few days one of them has had a broken printer, which is just lovely right before finals. So I had a 10 second print job before meeting with a professor, and after waiting politely, finally sat down at a computer in the miniscule lab upstairs and put my flash drive in - but lo and behold, up waddles Erkel the jackass who actually tapped me on the shoulder (isn't that battery? and said "I was waiting!" in this petulant little tone as if he were next, (which he wasn't) or as if I could read the invisible sign that said "I am king Erkel, please step aside" around his neck. I let him have the computer because I was afraid if he tapped me again I'd rip his fucking finger off and choke him with it. He commenced to sit down and start an extensive process of booting up his laptop and looking for things. I politely asked if I could just get a quick print in while he set up his computer and this selfish asshole refused, saying he had to print 'real quick' too then sat there for another hour while a room full of people waited for five computers. Maybe I should feel sorry for him, since he appraently couldn't tell time. Perhaps if someone shoved him in a cat carrier and tied it to the back of a truck and dragged it back to his wolf mother's smelly den so he could learn to tell time and perhaps to pull his head out of his ass far enough to see that he is, in fact, not King Erkel, just some asshole who needs to learn some manners, then that would help.
I think part of the reason lawyers have a bad reputation is that snotty little fucks like him get through school because it's law school and people can't beat you up even when you really, really deserve it. Think about it. If he acted like that in, say, the mini-computer lab at the public library, or any random undergrad program, somebody would feed him his laptop and tie him to a lamppost. But we can't afford to lose our cool here or we'll get kicked out or not be allowed to take the bar or something. All that repressed anger probably has something to do with why a lot of lawyers are jerks who drink too much, too. But that's OK. Someday I'll run into him in court and if I can't mop the floor with his case, I'll pay off the janitor to mop the floor with his head. We all get what's coming to us eventually, in one way or another, even if it means growing into a bald, impotent, friendless shithead whose wife hates him and only stays for the money. Sigh. I feel better now. Repressing anger is for chumps, man, and so is being Erkel the King.

We're sorry about the easter bunny. Really.

OK, this is my open apology to all the kids out there. It is on behalf of my cat, who can't type, or claims she can't. Now, she swears when she was out hunting this morning she didn't know that cute little rabbit was the Easter Bunny and, well, she killed it and dragged it into the kitchen through the cat door. I knew something was wrong right away when I noticed it was pink; in her defense, Stella is color-blind. I tried to do CPR, which is really difficult on a bunny, and I also called 911, but they hung up on me when I told them I needed an ambulance for the Easter Bunny. Some guys with straitjackets showed up later, but I hid in the attic. Anyway, I did my best, and Stella just didn't know. I'll do my best to find a substitute. How about an Easter llama? LLamas are cute. Or an Easter Goat? Would an Easter Goat be OK? Something the cat won't kill. For those of you who might want revenge, note by the picture that I am sending Stella far, far away so forget about it. Well, let me know if the Goat is an OK replacement. And again, I'm really, really sorry.

cat and law student haiku

Lately, I have been amusing myself writing haiku. It's important to amuse yourself. You're there all the time and other people aren't. And if they are there all the time, they quickly become less amusing.
Anyway, I thought I'd share a few of my smart ass little poems with you. Enjoy or go away, your choice.


---
Asshole at trash can,
that shit is recyclable.
why are you stupid?
----

Dear crazy mean girl:
get yourself a therapist,
and leave me alone.

----
vain, insecure man
buys big, wasteful SUV.
still a a pencil-dick.

----
the sun shines outside.
law student gets coffee, and
curses. fuck classes!

--------

my cat eats and sleeps
and worries for nothing.
better than law school!

------
OK - these were written by the cat.

I love you so much!
Here, I brought you a rabbit!
Why are you screaming?

------

warm grass is so nice.
think i'll have some for breakfast.
time to throw up now!

----

mice are such good toys!
I love to chase them around.
dead mouse. time for bugs!

----


just know, little bird,
if you couldn't fly like that,
I would so eat you . . .
---

everybody but kate bush, shut up!

A note on Kate Bush: I recently got 'Aerial' and she actually has a song about cleaning and doing laundry. I'm serious. At the end she says 'washing machine, washing machine, washing machine! washing washing get that dirty shirty clean!' Now I know she's a goddess, because I've listened to her say 'dirty shirty' about eleven times now and I would still hop across Texas on one foot just to have her reject me in person, and would pay for the privilege. Not that Kate Bush would go to Texas.

Or that she'd reject me. I mean, you never know.

Oh, shut up. I can dream, can't I?

But 'dirty shirty' makes as much sense as school, lately, which has felt a lot like that recurring dream where I have to go back to junior high, except I'm more or less awake and am wearing pants. I don't know why stress makes some people revert to being fifteen years old, but if that applies to anybody reading, here's a tip: hire a fucking therapist. Nobody is going to deal with your drama for free. And this is coming from someone who will actually pay to hear Kate Bush say 'washing machine! washing machine, washing machine!', so you know your ass is silly if I don't want to listen. No charge for the advice - THIS time.
And now back to Kate Bush, whose laundry I would do by hand in the snow and find that romantic. Unless she threw up on something. Even Kate Bush isn't hot enough for that.

a good time was had by most

I learned something new this weekend! The courtroom is where you get to beat people up, if only figuratively, and get paid for it! Man, this shit rocks. I think I'm going into trial law after all. I made it to the finals in the closing argument competition this past weekend and did well but don't really care if I win or not, (which of course we don't find out for a week because it's law school and they like to stress you out) because I think I've found my calling. Litigation is where you're actually supposed to take somebody's lame ass down, joy, joy, joy and look cool and sound slick doing it. See, I'm to cute to box and get all smashed up, and I'd just bust out laughing if I tried to wrestle as soon as my opponent came out boobs swinging, so this is perfect.

Prosecution is definitely more my style, but the irony of how many times I've cussed the cops after getting yet another ticket doesn't exactly escape me. My driving record, in the words of my attorney, is 'atrocious'. I'm working on it. But hey, I won't be such a mean prosecutor; I'm full of good advice, 'cause I learned a lot about the county jails from some clients in my past couple of jobs. Apparently, don't eat the hot dogs. The bathroom isn't nearly private enough. Don't forget your lighter, either, because the bitch jailer won't bring you one when you really, really need to smoke. Also, take your own magazines because all they have in the women's jail are bad "True Detective" type stories, which on second thought can be helpful, because there is time and material to figure out how they caught your ass and how to do better next time.

My best friend and her new boyfriend came, since she needed to come see me anyway, partially to say hi and partially because she has finally realized she has shitty taste in men and really ought to listen to her friends more, so I had to check the guy out. I really, honestly do like him, but his just having a job and a willingness to eat something other than cheeseburgers puts him miles above the pack, so two thumbs up to new boy. Maybe this one will work out for her. And if he turns out to be a dick, watch out buddy! This prosecutor is coming out swinging.