The twelve days of Law School

So now that Christmas has come and gone and Santa brought me a bicycle (no really, and it's cool) I thought I'd give you the recap. So, here's the twelve days of Christmas, law school style:

On the first day of Xmas my law school gave to me:
a headache

On the second day of Xmas my law school gave to me:
two parking tickets and a headache

On the third day of Xmas my law school gave to me:
three problems registering, two parking tickets and a headache

On the fourth day of Xmas my law school gave to me:
fourth circuit bullshit, three problems registering, two parking tickets and a headache

On the fifth day of Xmas my law school gave to me:
five group assignments,fourth circuit bullshit, three problems registering, two parking tickets and a headache

On the sixth day of Xmas my law school gave to me:
six library fines,five group assignments,fourth circuit bullshit, three problems registering, two parking tickets and a headache

On the seventh day of Xmas my law school gave to me:
seven pissy colleages, six library fines,five group assignments,fourth circuit bullshit, three problems registering, two parking tickets and a headache

On the eighth day of Xmas my law school gave to me:
eight over perfumed women, seven pissy colleages, six library fines,five group assignments,fourth circuit bullshit, three problems registering, two parking tickets and a headache

On the ninth day of Xmas my law school gave to me:
nine heavy casebooks, eight over perfumed women, seven pissy colleages, six library fines,five group assignments,fourth circuit bullshit, three problems registering, two parking tickets and a headache

On the tenth day of Xmas my law school gave to me:
ten regrets for coming, nine heavy casebooks, eight overperfumed women, seven pissy colleages, six library fines,five group assignments,fourth circuit bullshit, three problems registering, two parking tickets and a headache

On the eleventh day of Xmas my law school gave to me:
eleven things to rewrite,ten regrets for coming, nine heavy casebooks, eight over perfumed women, seven pissy colleages, six library fines,five group assignments,fourth circuit bullshit, three problems registering, two parking tickets and a headache

On the twelfth day of Xmas my law school gave to me:
twelve rejection letters, eleven things to rewrite,ten regrets for coming, nine heavy casebooks, eight over perfumed women, seven pissy colleages, six library fines,five group assignments,fourth circuit bullshit, three problems registering, two parking tickets and a headache


Happy Holidays until we return! -Caligulawyer

Happy whatever the hell holiday you celebrate

I like Christmas because it is an excellent excuse to sit on my ass, watch movies and play computer games. Everybody gets to sit on their asses for a few days, and when you're a student, it's like three weeks. That's because professors drink a lot. They want nice, loooong breaks.

So, historically speaking, it redeems Christians a bit. "And now, from the folks who brought you the Crusades, the genocide of Native Americans, the wipeout of the pagans, repression, gay bashing, Pat Robertson, George Bush, yelling men on pulpits, two thousand years of repressing women, and sculptures of a tortured guy nailed to big sticks.... Christmas!" Keep in mind Jesus "is just alright with me", as the Doobie Brothers infamously said (you have no idea who I'm talking about, do you?)- it's his followers who tend to just totally suck ass. Anyway so Christmas looks like a nice little redemption. Only what do we really get?

Ugly ties. Forced comraderie with people we don't like. A Secret Santa gift bought at Big Lots from that weird guy in the next cubicle.Credit card bills. Pressure to buy a lot of crap we can't afford given to people who don't need it.Blow-up dolls of Santa swaying in redneck yards beside their Grand Ams. Regrettable sexual acts with that guy/girl from high school we run into at the liquor store while visiting the folks. I just don't know if this really works out. Only, if it were up to the Jews and the people who invented Kwanzaa like 5 years ago (we are wayyy too late in civilization to be inventing new holidays, people, unless they are random Mondays off to give props to somebody like MLK) we wouldn't get shit for time off because there just aren't enough of those guys.

Anyway, don't strangle yourself with your new tie and happy freakin' holidays. As for me, I'm going to finish this coffee and lumber my ass to the couch until my girlfriend offers to wrap my presents for me because I hate wrapping and she's such a good girlfriend, at which point I'll drag them into the living room, then take a nap. Bills, Big Lots and all, I'm grateful for naps, a good woman and my last three week vacation. Enjoy, my dear readers, and I'll see you back at the whipping post after New Year's Eve.

Take your refrigerator and get out of here

It's over! Sales and Secured transactions is over! And after having taken that exam, I can now cross "run a marathon" off of my "things to do before I'm sixty" list. It took longer than a marathon and was probably a hell of a lot more painful. Hmm, run 26 miles or three and a half hours of picking through who gets the refrigerator? I'd rather run a real marathon. And I'm out of shape, too. And now that this class is over, I'm going to say it - I simply do NOT care who gets the motherfucking refrigerator. Bury your shit in the snow. Buy a fridge with cash. Just don't come to me. I do NOT care.

Having almost completed law school, I have come to the conclusion that law school is all about who gets the refrigerator, Blackacre and how much tax they pay on them. Three years. Now what can I do? Write a will leaving Blackacre to B, help B sell 100 refrigerators to C, defend C when he trashes D's refrigerator, represent B when his wife cheats on him with E, the refrigerator salesman, because he wants to keep Blackacre, and when B leaves his beloved farm to his ungrateful brat nephew, F, tell F how must tax to pay on his uncles' beloved farm, Blackacre.

It probably takes three years because most of us spend a lot of our class time playing computer games. It's a well kept lawyer secret. Remember that next time you're forking over $2000 for that stupid shit you did. You'll have fun with that.

This came up recently. My girlfriend teaches workshops and taught one at the non-law school part of our university, otherwise known as "parking". Somebody in our class is getting another master's degree (overacheiver of overachievers, we salute you) and was in her workshop. My girl said she figured out who was the law student in like 15 minutes. It was the girl sitting in the back playing the computer games.I told her she'd gotten lucky, we'll play that shit on the front row. So my girl asked me how we learn anything playing computer games all the time. In Sales the next day I looked around and like 80 people were playing games or shopping for shoes. I got a little defensive. I mean, how long can you pay attention to class after class and point after point about who gets the damn refigerator? Why do I need to know what a purchase money security interest is? I am a lot more interested in Mah Jong and getting to be Master Sergeant on "Overkill Apache." I just am. My fridge came with the house, which is not named Blackacre, and I'll read some inherited class outline 14 times the week before the exam and be fine. Damn fridge.

So, one more semester and I get to enter plea agreements for drunk guys who punch cops and throw shit, which really is more interesting than Overkill Apache. And hey, if they live on Blackacre or have any problems involving a fridge, like a repo that went bad, I'll know what to do, man, because it was in that inherited outline from somebody who didn't play computer games. And when I get my check I'll thank God for him. But with you as my witness, I will never, never live on Blackacre.

The Student and the Beast

Law School is hard enough. So, here's the question - why be a bitch? This may appear rhetorical, but we've got some power hungry, petty, antagonistic, crabby wench working in our office in a position where the students have to deal with her, and I want to ask her why she has to be such a grade A fuckhead. The thing about such a question is that it is a query you can never make when you really need to. The very fact that someone is a crabby ass bitch precludes you from asking why they are such a crabby ass bitch. Life's funny that way.

But the question is especially important when you're in an overcrowded building full of insecure overacheivers jacked up on caffeine. More to the point, why send out bitchy emails three times a day then get pissed when people don't read them? Here's a tip: People don't want your shit. They are having a much harder day than your lazy ass. She locks her office, too, so nobody can sneak in and put some desperately needed Prozac in her coffee. But then, what law student can spare Prozac?

Now,in law school, you learn that there are different ways of fighting, and figure out which one works best for you. Last week my friend and I made the scary journey to Ms. Crabbyass' office on an errand. I hoped for strength in numbers. We needed to pick something up she'd had ready the day before. So we get there and she starts being a piss ant and talking about how we needed to work with her and were late and so on, even though what we needed was right on her desk and we caused her no inconvenience whatsoever. So my friend starts fighting back. Hell, somebody needed to, although she stopped short of saying things that really need to be said, like "why are you being such a shit?" and so on. So, this is one way of dealing.
Myself, I have decided that Ms. Crabbyass is out looking for a fight and acts like such a hateful little wench in order to get a rise out of people. So, I have decided my revenge is to deal with her for three years and never give her the fucking satisfaction. No matter how shitty she is, I'm going to utterly ignore it and go about my business as if she were acting like she'd been raised by humans instead of a pack of wolves. What do you think?

Perhaps she deserves some compassion.Maybe when you are raised by wolves and spend your childhood chewing on raw sheep butt and scratching fleas you just don't know how to write a polite email or act like a human being. The question remains why she has this job hassling law students, most of whom would prefer her pack of wolves to Sales & Secured Transactions, instead of working as a bouncer or somewhere else where bitchyness is expected, like a drive thru or as a dominatrix. Maybe she beat the dean into giving her a job. "Lick my boots! Now give me a job beating students!" You know, something like that. We may never know. However, I've got six months left in this little social experiment, and presuming I don't lose it and cram a Sales exam down her throat (worse than raw sheep's butt) I'll let you know how it goes. Wish me luck!