Monday, October 31, 2005

Russ and Mike Chew the Fat

Mike's IM conversation got us talking about the loans people take out for law school

Mike: Anyone who pays full price for law school and takes out loans is a fool, it just isn't worth it.

Russ: I agree completley. A damn fool.

Mike: There isn't a Black 70's sitcom character in the world sassy enough to put the proper emphasis on 'damn' to express how foolish it is.

Russ: Not even Nell Carter?

Mike: Not even Nell Carter.

Recent IM Conversation

AnonymousReader: i am going for a big firm job
barelylegalblog: good luck
AnonymousReader: but i dont really want it
barelylegalblog: why not?
AnonymousReader: i need the money...the only reason i went to law school to begin with was to pay off my undergrad loans
barelylegalblog: did you take out more loans for law school?
AnonymousReader: yes
barelylegalblog: let me get this straight...you were in debt after undergrad, so you took out more loans and went deeper in debt to get a job to help pay off your loans...
AnonymousReader: yes
barelylegalblog: and the only reason you are going after a firm job is to make enough money to pay off the loans you took out to get a job to help pay off the loans you already had, even though you don't want the job you have to take to pay off the loans
AnonymousReader: i guess
barelylegalblog: i'm guessing you didn't do too well on the logical reasoning portion of the LSATs
AnonymousReader: fuck you
barelylegalblog: i call 'em like i see 'em

Sunday, October 30, 2005

Random Observation

I was just at the store and saw a guy with a t-shirt that said "I'm Going Nucking Futs".

All I could think was "That guy is a ducking fork".

Saturday, October 29, 2005

I'm looking for a journal to publish an article I just finished...

It's titled:

18 Years, 18 Years, She Got One of Your Kids, She Got You For 18 Years; The Rise of Golddiggers in Our Society and the Response of Domestic Relations Courts

Thursday, October 27, 2005

The Kroger's Chronicles #10: The Final Chapter

Over the last few months you have read about my exploits from when I was 16 and worked at Kroger's. People really loved those stories, which sort of surprised me, and I certainly didn't think that I would get the response that I did. So, I have written all the best stories that I can remember, and I owe it to you to tell you how my employment ultimately ended. I wish this was the best of the stories; I wish I had been fired due to some grand prank gone horribly awry or something like that. But, since these stories are not made up, I can't very well make up the ending. Maybe you'll like it, maybe you'll be disappointed. But without further ado, here is the final story.

I began working at Kroger's in March of my sophomore year of high school, worked there through the summer, and I planned on quitting once school started because the Fall was my busiest time of year. I told Judy I was going to quit, and she begged me to stay on. They were short staffed and I was pretty experienced, and they didn't want to lose me. Seeing my negotiation position greatly increased, I told Judy I would stay on, under my terms. Those terms were not unreasonable. I told her I would work three nights a week, no weekends, and I didn't have to be in until 6:30. She agreed, but stipulated that if I didn't come in until 6:30, I would have to stay and close, which was at 10pm. I agreed, and we set my schedule up so I would only work on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights, 6:30-10. Everyone was happy.

School started, and I began my new work schedule. Immediately, I had one big problem. While I was scheduled until 10, the closing procedures took a while and I never got out of there before 10:30, and sometimes, not until 11. At first, I started closing early, around 9:30, so that I would be done with the procedures by 10. But some uppity customer complained, and I was sternly told not to close the gate until 10pm. I needed a new plan, so I decided to cut out the most arduous closing task: Shelving the videos.

Shelving the videos doesn't sound tough, but it is. Most people return videos between 8pm and close, lest it be late and they be given a late fee. And, the evening hours were the busiest, so it was difficult to take care of customers, check the returned videos back into the system, and then put them back on the shelves. So typically, I would let the returns pile up, and check them back in and shelve them after close. This took, at a minimum, 20 minutes, and often took longer than 30. One day, all I did was check them back in (the easy part) and leave them on the cart where we put movies to be shelved, and figured I'd let the person who opened shelve them the next morning. However, the lady who opened did not appreciate me leaving nearly 100 movies for her to shelve, and complained. That night I came in, and Judy again sternly warned me that I was to have all movies shelved before I left.

I was sulking that evening around 9:30, checking in the movies but not looking forward to shelving them, when one of the baggers, John, came in. John was in his late teens, out of school, and worked full time as a bag boy. (Before you judge him, let me tell you that he was also mentally challenged. Not Corky from Life Goes On challenged, more like Forrest Gump challenged. Slow but functional.) Every night after work, John came in and rented a movie or two, and this night was no different. He noticed me sulking and asked what was wrong. I explained that I didn't want to shelve the movies, that it takes forever, etc. Then I had an idea. "John", I said, "How would you like a free movie tonight?". He asked what he had to do, and I told him that if he shelved the movies for me, his movie would be free. He seemed very enthusiastic about this arrangement. I told him how to shelve the movies, and he quickly got to work. When he was done, I rang up his movie as free, closed the gate, ran the daily report, and was out the door by 10:05.

The next time I worked, I went and found John up front, about an hour before his shift ended (which was at 9:30). I told him that if he came and shelved the movies for me again, there was another free rental in it for him. He agreed, came back after he was off, and shelved the movies. I rang up his rental as free, and was out the door by five after ten again.

This arrangment continued for maybe a month, and I figured that I had found a perfect way to avoid staying late. I knew that it was very wrong, since the first day of work they told me that giving away free movies was about the worst thing you could do. But I was cocky and thought I could get away with it. However, I made one crucial mistake. In order to ring up a movie as free, you had to be a manager. I certainly was not a manager, but I did know Judy's password. Whenever I rang John up, I entered her password to authorize a free rental. I knew that this would leave a paper trail, but I figured that the managers were idiots and wouldn't know. (Granted, it should have been more obvious to me that they would find out, but given my previous encounters with them, can you blame me?)

One day, I came into work, and as soon as I got back to the video department, the phone rang and Judy told me, in a very ominous tone, that I had to come see her in the manager's office. I knew exactly what she wanted to see me about.

I slowly walked the stairs and opened the door to the office. Inside sat Judy, Brad (one of the other assistant managers) and Jim (the head store manager). They all had very serious looks on thier faces. Brad motioned for me to sit down, and I did. They looked at me and I looked at them for what seemed like an eternity, before Judy spoke.

"Mike, we found out what's been going on down in the video department every night."

My mind immediately jumped to a line by Newman in a Seinfeld episode I had recently seen. I looked at her and said, smugly, "Oh yeah? What took you so long?"

All three of them became infuriated at the sheer audacity that I displayed. Brad angrily went down the list of things that I had done, and said that the worst thing was bringing John into the whole situation. I said that I didn't think it was that bad and tried to defend myself by saying that John was a willing participant in my movie shelving scheme. Brad, who was almost shouting, said, "You took advantage of a mentally challenged person for your own personal gain."

I responded: "Well, sure, anything sounds bad if you put it like that".

Jim finally cut to the chase and told me I was no longer welcome to work there. Then, displaying his own audacity, asked me to resign instead of being fired, so that the union wouldn't get invloved. In what had to be my only moment of weakness, I agreed. They asked my to write a resignation letter. They handed me a piece of paper and a pen. I wrote:

Dear Kroger's,

I resign.

Love,
Mike

I handed it to Judy, tossed her my nametag, and left the office. I went down the stairs, ran back to the video department to grab my book, and left the store. I would like to say that all the employees saw me leaving, knowing I had been let go. I would like to say that one bagger began to clap slowly as I left, and was soon joined by all Kroger employees as I made my final exit to a deafening ovation. But they didn't. No one noticed, except one person. As I was walking towards my car, I heard a voice behind me. "Mike....MIKE!", he said. I turned around and saw John running towards me. He got to me, and, out of breath, said "Thanks for the free movies".

"No problem", I responded, as I got into my car and drove away.

To the stripper,

You had a lot of choices at hand. You could have gone old school for the 30 something white guys with all the money and asked the DJ to play Poison's "Talk Dirty to Me." Or you could have played up to the younger crowd and gone with whatever top 40 rap song was available, possibly Kanye West's "Gold Digger" or the Black Eyed Peas "My Hump." But, instead you chose to play that complicated tangle of a song by Fiona Apple, "Shadowboxer." While you writhed on the floor, I saw the pain of the contradictions you live with every time you step on that stage. That night, I felt that you were more than an object. You were a human, a woman, an artist. So, when you told me you were dancing to put yourself through school, I paid you the highest compliment: I believed you.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

The 2L Blues

Russ and I recently heard through the grapevine that a friend of ours, who is a 2L, is having a rough time this year. We both immediately recognized the problem: He has the 2L blues.

This is a very common occurence among second year law students, and really, the explanation is simple: There is so much build-up to the first year, between the workload and the pressure and the stress and the commitment. You manage to make your way through the first semester, and finals, and the second semester, and more finals. You develop coping mechanisms to help you out, both healthy and unhealthy. Finally, it's over, and what is your reward? A summer of volunteer work, and two more years of school. It's a real 'fuck you' to walk into school your second year and realize that very little has changed.

Both Russ and I experienced our share of the 2L blues. Russ told me he stopped being as social, but kept drinking like he was. I seriously considered quitting school, and almost did, before my mother reminded me that quitting school meant getting a job. So instead, I just stopped giving a shit about it and decided to enjoy my two years of lawyer college as best I could. Oh yeah, and we started a blog.

For your 3L's, you know exactly what I am talking about. For you 2L's going through it now, suck it up and get through. I don't know what else to say. I guess you could drink excessively or stop caring, but proceed at your own risk. And for you 1L's looking to avoid it next year, good luck, but you can't escape it. After all, in the words of a classic mafia movie cliche, this is the life we've chosen.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Exchange with the GF

I communicate throughout the day with my girlfriend through her work email from my school email. This often leads to some humorous exchanges.

Russ@lawschool.edu: Some girl hit on me today at work. I've never been hit on that aggressively before. She almost broke my spirit.

Girlfriend@realjob.com: Well I'm glad you were able to maintain your will power for at least a few minutes.

Russ@lawschool.edu: I don't know. I think you have reason to be worried, she said she was Sicilian. That means that, presumably, she can make pizza, pasta, and tiramisu (all my favorites).

Girlfriend@realjob.com: It also means, presumably, that she has a hairy ass. I hope you enjoy running your fingers through it after stuffing yourself with her home-made spaghetti-o's.

Russ@lawschol.edu: Your previous email has been forwarded to your human resources sensitivity coordinator, Vito Taglialucci.

Monday, October 24, 2005

Random Rant #2

You know what really grinds my gears? People who don't buy parking passes and then complain about their parking situations. Now, I don't know how it is at your school, but here, the law school parking lot is cheap, spaces are plentiful, and the lot is right across the street from the school. It is an ideal parking situation. Yet there are people who refuse, for one reason or another, to buy a pass.

If someone decides not to buy a parking pass, that is certainly their right. But in choosing not to do so, they forfeit their right to complain that they had to park six blocks away and walk in the rain. It is sort of like the person who doesn't buy a book for a class...They can't get upset if the professor makes them look like an idiot.

The one thing I don't understand is why someone wouldn't buy one to begin with. The lot is brand new, there are plenty of spaces, and it's so close. And the best part? It's only $120 for the YEAR. That, my friends, is a bargain. Let me break that down: There are 15 weeks in the semester, so 3o total weeks of classes. Assuming you go to class five days a week (and at my school, you probably do, because someone apparently forgot to give whoever makes the class schedules the memo that no core upper level classes should ever meet on Friday), that $120 parking pass comes out to $4 a week, or a whopping $.80 per day. That is nothing, just buy the freaking pass or stop complaining!

Sorry, I had to get that off my chest.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Bombs Away!

My high school was a lot like Beverly Hills 90210, except there were very few rich and/or white students. Still, there were plenty of hijinks (most involved casual violence and drugs, though). I still fondly recall when we'd get a full period to go hang out in the baseball field when some incorrigible scamp called in a bomb scare (I know what you're thinking and it was not me. I was an angel compared to most kids in my school). Pre-Columbine, a bomb scare was less terrifying than it was annoying.

One time we had to spend more than a period out on the baseball field because someone decided to go the extra mile and actually plant a real bomb before they called in the threat. So, 1200 students were baking in the late spring's heat all afternoon. There were only 6 security guards and 50 teachers to keep us settled. The kids started to get restless, lighting cigarettes, throwing things at each other, chanting, "Let us go home."

The principal got on her bullhorn and announced "We know we can't physically hold you all, but we're watching you and if we see you leave, we'll write you up and suspend you." The crowd became dejected because there was no way the entire school would storm the gates and leave (mostly because nerds like me were too afraid).

Then some genius 14 year old freshman realized how to get around this dilemma: he put his shirt over his head so no one would recognize him as he ran off the field, through the bushes, and into the street. The entire school cheered for him as he pumped his little legs and the principal shouted, "Get back here, whoever you are," on her bullhorn.

My friend, Ron, was blown away by this kid's bravado and brilliance. Ron was one of the most trouble making seniors in our school and saw a little of himself in this pint-sized Patrick Henry. "That kid is great! I'm going to buy him a lunch."

Then a few minutes later, the now famous freshman was escorted back onto the baseball field by a police officer. Everyone booed and soon the story began spreading through the crowd like wildfire. Once the kid escaped the baseball field, he realized he lived 4 miles from the school, so he went to a bus stop where the police promptly found him, gave him a truancy violation, and then returned him to school.

So this poor freshman, in the space of an hour, had received the entire school's open adulation, then their collective disgust, a truancy violation, and a suspension from the principal. To top it all off, a heavily muscled Mexican-American senior named Ron, who the freshman had never met before in his life, immediately got in the freshman's face, poked him in the chest and shouted, "Fuck you, man! I was going to buy you a lunch!"

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

For all the female readers who have asked for a picture of us...


I regret to inform you that we don't send out pictures of ourselves, mostly because we don't have any. If you must have a mental image, look at one of those Abercrombie catalog photos, where two clean cut shirtless guys are tossing a football on the beach, comfortable in their heterosexuality. For example:

(Note: I am on the right, Russ is on the left)

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Russ's Recipe for Baked Ziti

Every man should know how to make at least one dish really well. For me, that dish is baked Ziti. Below is the recipe.

1 lb. ziti noodles.
1 can of marinara sauce.
1 small can of diced tomatoes (preferably italian style)
4 ounces of pepperoni slices
2 cups of mixed italian cheeses (they usually come mixed pre-packaged).
1 tablespoon of oregano
1 tablespoon of basil

Dice the Pepperoni slices. Boil the ziti. Drain. Mix in marinara, tomatoes, pepperoni, basil, oregano, and one cup of the mixed italian cheese. Put mix in casserole dish. Cover with remaining cup of italian cheese. Bake casserole at 275 degrees for 45 minutes.

Here's the best thing about this dish: It actually gets better the older it is when you have to reheat it. It develops a more chewy and infused character.

I used to live with Norm and I once made a pan of baked ziti and didn't even eat any of it straight out of the oven. Instead, I left the pan of ziti in the fridge to ripen into it's true chewy deliciousness. The next morning I woke up and half the pan was gone. My roommate, Norm, was layed out on the couch next to a tomato stained plate.

He managed to lift his head out of his food induced coma and say, "Russell, you make a damn fine baked ziti."

Praise from Caesar.

Monday, October 17, 2005

Story Contest Winner

Due to an overwhelming response, it took me a while to get through all the stories that were submitted. But I have chosen the winner, from a reader named Maggie. She wins the honor of seeing her name in print on this blog. So without further ado, here is her story:

This woman, we'll call her Eliza, is probably in her early thirties (although I am bad at guessing ages) and for ten years taught English in Japan, which is pretty cool. She is white however, and looks her race. Now for class she dresses like a normal nerdy person with no fashion sense, but for any school function/party/dance (yes we have law prom) she shows up in kimonos. She managed to con two other interesting classmates into wearing them to the local Japanese restaurant. I took all this as her just being one of those quirky people in life--she uses a rolly bookbag (which she shamelessly rams into your achilles heel as she scurries to class), she drinks rice milk out of a mason jar, ect-- but then I heard a story about her job this summer. She was working for a firm up in a big city and they had some big meeting with higher-ups and clients, where professional attire would have been appropriate. Most people were wearing suits even. I shit you not, she showed up in a kimono.

Good work, Maggie. The idiocy of law students never ceases to amaze me.

Sunday, October 16, 2005

Norm

One of my best friends in college was a guy nicknamed "Norm" because he was heavy set and jovial just like the popular "Cheers" sitcom character. It was a shame "The King of Queens" hadn't hit the airwaves yet because Norm looks and acts exactly like the Kevin James character "Doug Heffernin."

This resemblance was never made more clear than when I was visiting him once and he asked me "Do you want to go out for some Wings? There's a place down the street with a sign that says, 'Best Wings in Chicago.'"

I told Norm that I was still feeling a little rough from last night and that he'd have to go on ahead without me.

He left, with a passion for hot wings and the best spring in his step that a 280 pound man could muster.

An hour later Norm came back with a hang-dog expression.

"How were the 'Best Wings in Chicago?,'" I asked.

He lifted his head in disappointment, "They weren't even the best wings I've had today."

Don't Forget...

If you are bored or lonely or anything else, send us an IM.

AIM: barelylegalblog

Friday, October 14, 2005

One Reason I Like Law School

I just went to Starbucks for a pick-me-up before my late afternoon Evidence class. I love walking in with jeans, polo, and flip flops while all the other people my age are wearing business clothes and clearly working on some proposal, or whatever the hell people with real jobs do.

Radio Days

Lately my new favorite radio station is "98.9 The Chief". During one of it's segways the announcer's voice goes, "The suits upstairs say it's time for a commercial. "The Chief" politely declines. Get ready for more hit music."

Does this fool anybody? Is there some guy doing road construction wearing a confederate bandana who's thinking, "Lousy suits. I'm glad "The Chief" stuck up for what he believes in."

Thursday, October 13, 2005

If you refer to yourself in the third person, you shouldn't be upset if we make fun of that third person behind your back.

I was walking through the law school today when I heard some 1Ls idle banter. Specifically, I heard this question: "How does one succeed in law school."

"ONE?" Has this kid already delved so far into the world of abstraction and constructs that he no longer involves himself in his own personal concerns? Or maybe he's just a pretentious dork.

I told Mike the story and we immediately started making fun of this kid. In the process, we revealed a lot of our own nerdiness.

Mike: I have a feeling that one has not been laid in a long time.

Russ: One should not dilly-dally with the ladies if one is expected to achieve legal success.

Mike: One might go so far as to say that the strict company of fellow gentleman scholars is all one needs for success.

Russ: Yes, one's creative juices must be kept captive by one's own person.

Mike: Indeed, one can simply use a good dose of cornstarch to help keep away any distracting urges one might have.

Russ: 'Tis a pity that one can no longer buy saltpeter at the local apothecary.

The More Things Change...

When I was in 8th grade, a kid in my English class stumbled as he got up from his desk. Predictably, I laughed, and my teacher, Mrs. Smith, was not pleased. "Michael, I am very disappointed in you", she said. "Only immature people laugh at somebody when they trip and fall. You'll know you are an adult when you no longer find that funny."

Yesterday, I turned 26. Walking across campus, I saw someone stumble on the sidewalk, and I chuckled a little bit. Oh well, so much for being an adult.

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Random Rant

You know what I hate? The following scenario: You are in a class that meets, lets say, Monday and Wednesday. At the end of class on Monday, the professor says something to the effect of "Okay, we will pick up here tommorrow". Inevitably, at least a half-dozen people in the class will panic and say "You mean Wednesday", or "Wednesday?", or mumble about the next class meeting. The professor, slightly annoyed, will laugh it off and say, "Yes, I meant Wednesday".

What the hell is wrong with these people? We have been in class for eight weeks, you should know that class meets Monday and Wednesday. More importantly, why do they do this? Is it some way to stick it to the professor? Or are they that dumb that they can't logically comprehend that by 'tommorrow' the professor means 'the next class meeting'? Aren't law students supposed to have superior logics? Apparently not. Just once, I would love it if the professor went off on these idiots, saying, "Oh come on, you do this every week. You know our next class is Wednesday. I know our next class is Wednesday. Use your brains, you morons!"

There, I had to get that off my chest.

Monday, October 10, 2005

Paradox

Recently, a classmate was lamenting a 30 page reading assignment made by one of our professors for that day. "I'm not too worried about it. I didn't read it", I said. "I never read any assignments that long."

The classmate looked at me and said, "Well, then you'll be happy about tommorrow's assignment. It's only three pages."

"Eh, I doubt I'll read that one either", I said. "If it's that short, why even bother with it?"

My classmate looked at me quizzically, and said, "How is it that you refuse to read an assignment because it is too long, and then refuse to read an assignment that is really short?"

"Simple", I responded. "I don't like reading."

Career Services, Career Schmervices

Classmate: Are you going to go to the open forum the Career Services staff is holding, today?

Russ: I don't know. Can we bring rotten tomatoes?

Saturday, October 08, 2005

Let Me Hear Your Body Talk

I still have to get 240 hours of work done for my clinic! My professor says she'll count any hours for a "class" that could be applied to the clinic. Then she mentioned some classes that were occurring soon. One of them was "Acting for Lawyers: The Art of Body Language." I went to that one.

The body language class's theme was how to make a good impression using body language, ostensibly for interviews. They showed you how to shake hands, make eye contact, etc.

Frankly, this class was lost on me. I smile and say hello to everyone I meet (specifically, attractive women) and I've been accused of "talking with my hands" (which, when you're 6'3" can create a windmill-like effect).

At the end of the class they handed out a feedback form. This is how I filled it out.

1. Did you find this class helpful?

No. Not at all.

2. Were your expectations met by this class?

I had no expectations. Surprisingly, I'm still disappointed.

3. Tell us what you thought about the class. What can we do better next time?

Only in law school would they teach a class on the logic of body language! If you haven't already worked on your body language to attract the opposite sex, you're never going to for just an interview. No job is that good. Let's face it, good body language comes from self-confidence and poise which is, largely, a function of physical attractiveness. This class would have been better served with a makeover.

Friday, October 07, 2005

Joyeux Anniversaire

23 years ago today the law student organization known as "Law Students for Evil" changed their name to be more palatable to the public. Happy Birthday, Federalist Society.

Thursday, October 06, 2005

You're Selling The Sizzle Not The Steak

Sometimes law students baffle me. According to the common wisdom, a law student looks at every fact, precedent, and writing with a cool logical analysis. Therefore, the more logical, the better the law student. I guess that's what differentiates us from the other 99% of the population.

That's all well and good for appellate arguments in front of other lawyers but most legal interactions are with lay people: juries, clients, and state judges who don't know anything. The average layperson never uses logic! He or she is just an automaton relying on common experience and falling back on anecdotal evidence.

I have been thinking a lot about this concept as I've noticed the difference between myself (and Mike) and the average law student and I think it all comes down to the saying, "You're selling the sizzle, not the steak." I'm not going to go into a logical discourse about what it means, because that would essentially destroy the whole point of the saying. I've never run into a better example of "steak vs. sizzle" thinking than what happened today with a classmate of mine.

I had to file a petition to become a provisional federal attorney. I didn't want to read the 4 pages of instructions so I just called the clerk's office and introduced myself and asked them what I should do. The clerk was very nice and she gave me some convoluted instructions about the series of mailings we'd have to have back and forth. "Cindy," (that was the clerk's name), "I only live ten minutes away. Is it allright if I just come down there and you and I fill out everything all at once. That way it's easier for everyone and, as a plus, I'll get a chance to meet you." She said that would be a great idea and I went down there and took care of everything.

Later that day, at the law school, I told a classmate of mine about it. This classmate is a nice guy who is the epitome of professionalism. He always makes me look bad in class whether he's finished his projects early or he's thoroughly done the reading. He was incensed when he heard of my ease getting the license.

Classmate: "I've been waiting more than three weeks. How'd you get yours done so quick."

Russ: "I just called and asked if I could."

Classmate: "But the instructions say you have to mail it. Didn't you read the instructions?"

Russ: "No. Why would I read them when there's a professional clerk out there devoted to carrying them out? I just talked to her and then met her at the courthouse. It's only 10 minutes away."

Classmate: "How did you even get into the courthouse. You're not allowed in unless you're wearing a suit and have an official purpose. I went over there in my suit to see what was taking so long and they still wouldn't let me in."

Russ: "I just told them that Cindy was waiting waiting for me upstairs." (I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt). "They buzzed me up."

They say learning the law is like learning another language. They're right. Just don't forget the first one you learned.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

The Kroger's Chronicles #9: The Time Clock Caper

One day during the summer that I worked there, I was scheduled to work from 10-6 on a Sunday. I was hungover and tired, and did not want to be there. I was working with a girl named Missy, who was a great audience for all my pranks and thought I was hilarious. I kept complaining that I wanted to go home, and finally, she told me, "Just go home then". I thought about it, but didn't want to give up eight hours of pay. I told her this, and she said, "Screw it, just go home, and come back around 6 to clock out. The managers are idiots, they won't know whats going on".

So I left, enjoyed my Sunday afternoon, and at about 5:45, headed back to the store. I walked in, headed back to the break room, sat around, went up front, and clocked out. When I got home at about 10 after 6, my mom said that a girl named Missy had just called and that it was important. I called her back, and she told me that Judy, our manager, had stopped by and asked where I was, and she told her that I had run to Subway for my break. She told me that Judy seemed a bit suspicious, but bought the story.

A few days later, Missy and I were working together again, and I told Missy that I was worried because I didn't clock out for breaks on Sunday, and I might get caught. Missy told me I had nothing to be worried about. I told her I did, and then proceeded to do my spot on impression of Judy and her Tennessee twang, saying "Mike, did you just clock in at 10, leave, and come back to clock out at 6?" Missy laughed, when all of the sudden Judy came back to the video department. "Mike", she said, "why didn't you clock out for any breaks on Sunday?" I thought for a second, and told her that I must have forgot.

She looked at me for a second, and said, "Are you sure you didn't just clock in at 10, go home, and come back to clock out at 6?"

Missy was standing behind Judy, and upon hearing this, almost burst into laughter because she nearly said verbatim what I had said not two minutes before. I saw Missy try to keep from laughing, and I had the sudden urge to laugh myself. Trying my hardest to keep it in, I said, "No, I was here. Ask Missy." Judy turned around and asked Missy to confirm my story. Missy was apparently not expecting this turn of events, and when Judy turned around, she almost lost it. "He was here, I swear", she blurted out, her face getting red from trying not to laugh.

Judy was not a dumb woman, and she could clearly see that we were both trying very hard not to laugh. She looked at us, then turned to leave. But before she left, she turned around, and said, in her thick Tennessee accent, "Are you two in cahoots?"

At this, both of us began laughing hysterically. Hearing Judy use the word 'cahoots' was the funniest thing I had ever heard. 'Cahoots' is not a word you hear outside of 1930's crime movies or Abbot & Costello routines, and hearing Judy of all people say it was just too much. We both were laughing so hard we were crying, and my sides began to hurt so bad I had to sit down.

Judy stormed out and came back with the store's head manager, a guy named Jim. He demanded I come to his office and explain myself. I quickly regained my composure and followed him upstairs. Doing my damnedest to channel Ferris Bueller, I smoothely explained the whole situation, why 'cahoots' sounded so funny, the fact that the 'k' sound is the funniest of all sounds and that we meant no disprespect towards Judy. We spoke for a half-hour, talking about my high school's sports program, my college plans, and the store. After that, he walked me back down to the video department, shook may hand, turned to Judy and said, "You got a hell of a young man working here. I wish we had a dozen more just like him."

Story Contest

Do you read our blog and think you can do better? We like to post everyday, but we are busy (well, Russ is...I'm still pretty wide open)...But if you have a hilarous law school story you want to share, email it to barelylegalblog@gmail.com. We will post any of them that we think are good enough to grace the hallowed pages of our stupid, immature blog. We will give you full credit if you want, or keep you completely anonymous. It's up to you.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Does Anyone Else Miss 1998?

For God's sake gas cost $1.09 a gallon and our biggest national crisis was that there were too many blowjobs.

Life Imitates Art

I watched Swingers again the other day, and it reminded me of something that happened while I was in undergrad...

There was a guy in my fraternity named Brent. He was in my pledge class, and no one in the class could figure out why he recieved a bid, because he didn't fit in at all. We later learned that his parents were close friends with the parents of the Rush chair, and it was a total sympathy bid. He basically recieved a pass through the pledgeship as well and was initiated in as an active member.

Part of Brent's problem was that he was really insecure about his place in the fraternity. He was always really worried what everybody thought of him and was one of those guys who tried way too hard. Usually, each year there is one 'Brent', and those guys always carved out a niche and became well liked. But Brent was an angry, bitter drunk, and it was very hard to like him on any level.

Nevertheless, he tried very hard to fit in. Brent was not an attractive fellow, and he had a terrible personality, so he never was the recipient of any attention from girls. His encounters were few and far between. Once, when he was wasted, he was describing how he lost his virgininty as a drunken freshman, and someone asked how big the girl was. He looked around the room, pointed to me, and said "About Mike's size." (Note: I am six feet tall, weigh 220, and am built like a fullback....yeah....{shudder}...)

But around the middle of the first semester of our sophomore year, a freshman girl named Mary seemingly had a thing for Brent. This girl was the very definition of average, both in looks and personality. She hung around the frat house because her prettier and cooler roommate was dating a guy in the house. Wanting to have a boyfriend in the house too, this girl locked on to the surest thing, Brent, and they began casually seeing eachother, and Brent asked her to our annual semi-formal.

However, Brent was still insecure about himself, this time because his girlfriend wasn't as pretty as the girls other guys were dating. We were all supportive, in the sense we never ripped on her. In fact, we were thrilled because he no longer creeped out our girlfriend's friends who came over, or cockblocked anyone, or asked to be set up with a date to a date party or something. But Brent was still insecure about it.

One day, I was sitting in my room with my roommate Chad and our good friend Pat. Brent came in and said he needed to talk about something. He proceeded to tell us that he didn't want to take Mary to semi-formal and he wanted to break up with her. We all strongly encouraged him not to do it, but he couldn't be persuaded. At one point Pat, who didn't ever say too much, but when he did, it was hilarious, said "Dude, you are never going to do any better. You shouldn't be breaking up with her, you should be buying her a fucking engagement ring before she comes to her senses."

But no matter what we said, we couldn't convince him. He said he was going to do it over the phone, and was going to do it right now. Always in the mood to see a trainwreck, I suggested he do it in my room, so we could watch. He said okay, and dialed the phone. It rang a few times, her machine picked up, and he hung up. "Come on Brent, leave her a message", Chad said.

So Brent called back, waited for the machine to pick up, and said, "Mary, it's Brent, call me, I need to talk to you about something important." He hung up, and I said, jokingly, "Brent, you can't leave a message like that. You should at least tell her what you want to talk to her about." To my surprise, he hit redial, waited for the machine to pick up, and said "Mary, it's Brent again, the thing I want to talk to you about is semi-formal. Call me."

At this point, Pat, who had a night class with Brent that evening, said, jokingly, "You should call back and tell her what time to call, since you won't be around later". Brent then hit redial, waited for the machine to pick up, and said "Hey, it's Brent again....ummm, when you call to talk about semi-formal, call before 6 or after 9. Bye." At this point Chad looked at him, laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes, and said "Dude, you have derailed. You might as well just call her and break up over the machine." Brent started to dial, and I told him to stop. I faced a dilemma...On one hand, part of me wanted to save this girl the embarassment of being dumped by Brent on the answering machine. On the other hand, I wanted to see the trainwreck. I thought for a second, and said, "Brent....be sure to tell her 'it's not you, it's me'".

He hit redial, and we sat on the edge of our seats. The machine picked up, and Brent started talking: "Mary, it's me...ummm...I don't think we should see eachother any more. And I don't think we should go to semi-formal...ummm....". At this point, I got his attention and motioned with my hand to say my line. "Oh yeah, it's not you, it's me. Ummmm...Bye." We all absolutely died.

After a few minutes of hysterical laughter, we stopped, and Brent looked at us and said, "Hey, can you guys find me a date for semi-formal?"

Monday, October 03, 2005

Random Thought

I haven't taken Administrative law yet, but I think that there must be something in the FCC regulations that requires at least one radio station per city to refer to the month of October as 'Rocktober'.