ramblings

The weather is dreary and my energy is sapped leaving me unable to write any form of cohesive thoughts. Instead I just wanted to ramble. Deal with it.

-Is it bad or good when the new Starbucks barista who has worked there a grand total of four times recognizes me and asks for my name since, "I'm trying to learn all the regulars". Also, is it bad or good that I didn't recognize her myself and had no recollection of her ever serving me there. What does that a) say for my zombie state in the mornings before my IV of caffeine, b) its impressive as hell that she knows I'm a regular after only working there for four days, does that mean the other baristas talk about me? Am I famous???!!!

-McGonagall's last name is distinctly jewish. Like jewdar is going off, she might as well have 'stein' or 'stone' be part of her last name, she shits bagels and lox... the whole deal (disclaimer, I'm allowed to be saying this because my forefathers were also in the dessert for some forty odd years along with hers - our mutual ancestors probably split unleavened bread together at some point and talked about the weather and what a bitch Moses was for not letting them worship a golden calf). So how does this Jewish lawyer who (I think) is from NYC know ANYTHING about cows and farming? Also, how does she know anything about how "mean peacocks can get". Yes, this came up in class. In a section involving PRODUCT LIABILITY. Try to get your to brain process that. No, it still doesn't totally make sense to me either.

-While most people are looking forward to Thanksgiving and recounting hilarious past Tgivings with silly Uncle Lester or the fabulous butter cake that Aunt Molly always makes,  I am currently trying to figure out ways to smuggle a flask in my onesie. BACKSTORY: my brother and I have decided that it will be hilarious to buy adult size onesie pj's and wear them to Thanksgiving (henceforth known as Frenchie's idea of hell or the missing book in Dante's literary exploration of the afterlife). I don't really know why we are wearing adult size onsies (it was an idea hatched at 1:30 in the morning via text), but I know that at least for myself and my brother we will be endlessly entertained by them. And they are super sexy. Observe. MORE BACKSTORY: Thanksgiving with my family is not fun. There will be yelling. There will be kosher food. There will be accusations of who is prettier and who got fatter (and this is all just the adults). Sooo, if anyone has an idea of how to slip a flask into my onesie hook a girl up.

~Frenchie

insomnia... the mortal enemy of any law student

At this hour, any normal person would either be intoxicated beyond coherence from pounding back the drinks/ shots/ any winning combination OR they would be sleeping.. dreaming of butterflies, unicorns, glitter and, if they are like me, pink puffy marshmallow clouds (quiteobviouslyanillustration)... HOWEVER, I, being so lucky as to have to work to put myself through law school, just got home from work. Work.. where I get to sling drinks for a decent amount of money considering the bullshit I have to put up with, the douchebag idiots that think their incessant waving and tapping is going to get them a drink any faster when in fact this will now get some a sub-par attempt at a drink that I would rather throw in their stupid face... (yousaiditbestmrwest)

Anyways..I thought I would take this opportunity to allow the world access to a night in the life of a bartender :)

It is the same thing, every night, no matter the bar, no matter the city...however, being so fortunate to have chosen a bar an area of Boston that is officially filled with some of the world's largest jack-holes and stuck up bitches..some nights are such gems that they are worthy of sharing with others.  Tonite was NO exception to this generalization...

The night starts off as any other, get to work after braving the ridiculous/ bi-polar weather, change into the AWESOME black garb I am required to wear (think dark, like Wednesday Addams...) and get behind the bar... Time to start slanging drinks, or so one would think.. 

HOWEVER 

the first few hours are some of the most BORING and fruitless of your day, let alone of your life... its time to find some mundane cleaning task to do, making yourself look busy before it is finally time to eat your dinner (that is if someone doesn't yell at you for doing so). Finally the night starts, if you eat slowly that it. Its like a miniature stampede to the bar to stand and stare like a mindless-f*@k who obviously started drinking yesterday because they are CLUELESS! Not to mention.. as bad as the people can be and the minimal amount of patience I have on a good day..we then have to turn to the pack of idiots I work with-- it goes from Barbie (barbieDUH) who is like my literal other half to the biggest, most fake frienemy that I have EVER had, not even speaking lightly... It is simply amazing working in a bar... the yawning has finally begun and while I can I must take advantage of falling into some semblance of a slumber--seeing as how 6 years of bartending has turned me into the biggest insomniac ever!  Sleeping is much easier after a few drinks, but some nights it just cannot be done--the world will never have enough alcohol, Ambien, or ways to fall asleep to cure this insomnia! 

I leave you with this thought.. If you are EVER attending a function at which there is an OPEN bar, that DOES NOT mean that you are not required to tip.. SO DO IT! or drink half-ass drinks and deal with my miserable, bitchy attitude on a constant basis. So remember... insomnia is a real bitch and tip your bartenders because it will get you much further with her/him/them... just tip please :)

~Rizzo<3

the rolling backpack

Many people warned me that law school is like high school. Aside from the fact that you are dealing once again with lockers there are cliques, study group frenemies, girls wearing the same shit I wore in the nineties (flared jeans, polos, and flip flops – the uniform of my Florida HS) and rolling backpacks.

It seems odd that in an institution where the student handbook is one of the longest I’ve ever seen and covers all possible imagined liability (I’m fairly certain there is a section on there of what to do if attacked by zombies) the rolling backpack is still allowed to roam free in law school. Although I can obviously walk up the three flights of stairs to my classroom I instead make the conscious choice to take the elevator each day (its my constitutional right as an American to be lazy, dammit!). Almost each time the elevator is filled with the dreaded rolling backpack, taking up valuable floor space, and forcing me to skip the elevator and instead engage in physical activity. Super lame.  

I totally get WHY my fellow students bring the rolling backpack. Law books are heavy and its extremely difficult to strong-arm your way onto the T, instilling fear in the BU biddies and establishing yourself higher in the hierarchal chain of I’mbetterthanyou when you are doubled over with textbooks and dropping your papers everywhere (it’s all about being able to make eye contact people, and you can’t do that when you are picking up stuff from the floor). However, even though my personal hygiene might slip as the dreaded three hour exams approach, my cock-blocking glasses might appear as the valuable minutes of shoving my contacts onto my retina give way to an extra minute of sleep, and the leggings-as-pants trend will appear on my person… never shall I give in to the temptation of bringing a rolling backpack.

There is a dark personal context to my decision not to own a rolling backpack. A context that extends back to my own childhood and my mother’s fateful decision that had me clenching the handle of a bright pink rolling backpack in middle school. I should have fought back against the system, protested against the totalitarian regime I was subjected to, brought up as evidence the fact that parents thought that having my brothers’ and I on rainbow leashes when we visited Disney World  was a good thing (true fact, there are multiple pictures to prove it…. Also they were less of leashes then full body harnesses with leashes attached). Yet I was quiet. I accepted the pink rolling backpack. I thought it was logical and (dare I say) cute (cause it was pink!).

 There may have been one scene on the school bus, my favorite orange skort and matching orange top clammy with sweat, some clique of preteen girls headed by a mini bitchy Regina George calling me out on my supreme un-coolness, which all led to me forever parting ways with that little pink rolling backpack - but I won’t go into specifics. The memory is hazy and the pain still too raw. But the fact remains, I refuse to use a rolling backpack in law school and I judge others who do so.

~Frenchie

meant to be...

I find this entirely too appropriate to not post it :) besides.. Starbucks has 2-for-1 coffee today, every broke law student's dream!! 

~ Rizzo <3 

It takes a certain finesse to have absolutely NO GAME as a 29 year old, who desperately hits on my circle of friends in order to attempt to boost his clearly minimal self-esteem. This occurrence is certainly post-worthy...

So for a few weeks now, Pig  (obviously a pseudo name... ) has been desperately hitting on me via facebook- pathetic, I know.. just go with it. Initially, my response was flattery and I replied to his advances with a sweet thank you and talk to you later. As nice as this sounds, the fairytale is not all that it is cracked up to be- as Pig has previously blatantly expressed his wishes to participate in some vulgar acts with my lady-friends (GROSS!)--but back to the story. So the emails keep rolling in, my responses are non-existent, yet his persistence is admirable. Continuing on his quest to be the biggest uber-pig known to man, this gem of a man decided to act like a complete jack-hole and participate in the events that follow: 

Being a law student, my body basically runs off of caffeine, therefore, on my way to recharge I am throughly unamused by just about everything. Standing in line at Dunkin Donuts, waiting for my weak attempt at a Vanilla Chai, I am suddenly swatted, yes swatted like a fly on the wall, with a hat. Turning with my best bitch face to examine the idiot who did this, I come to find Pig standing there, smug look painted on his stupid face, about to attempt to start the weakest conversation ever. 

Pig: Hey you! 

Me: (still firmly wearing bitch face) Hi. 

Pig: (noticing I am holding 2 drinks and waiting for a second bag of food) You have quite the meal there! 

Me: Haha (haphazardly laughing) Yea, one is for Jasmine (omgjasmineisthehottestdisneyprincess) and the other is for me...but you know I have to get back to the library. Talk to you later. 

So of course I bolt, as fast as a girl can without being completely obvious and reach for my phone to call a friend and explain what just happened. As I stand outside, respecting the no phones in the library rule (like the great..note the sarcasm..law student that I am), Pig walks by me, smiles and goes inside.. PATHETIC. It is to the point where I am beginning to feel bad for the poor guy--I almost want to talk to him just to teach him how to have some game. 

Oh...somehow I have neglected to mention, this gem of the male species has a girlfriend... Yes, a full-blown bona fide, live-in girlfriend. And men wonder why we call them pigs. 

OINK OINK my friend...OINK OINK 


~Rizzo <3 

pop culture in law school

I love when professors try to spice up materials and drop in pop culture references to 'connect' with their students (the fact that there is a fifty+ guy with a rolling backpack in D2 who only wears law school related t-shirts is something I will discuss another time). My Torts professor is essentially Minerva McGonagall with a death stare I can only hope to emulate some day. I was floating in the peaceful bliss of half-asleep stupor when through the fuzzy pink clouds and ponies of my mind I heard McGongall say: "if Dorothy dropped a house on you and you somehow survived but were terrified of ever going outside again - because you feared another house might drop on you someday - then you can sue Dorothy for emotional distress". Now I was hoping for some pop culture law references in relation to Lohan's jail time or Naomi Campbell's penchant for assaulting the help with phones... but I'll take what I can get at around 8:45 in the morning.

The depressing thing is that hearing a case related back to The Wizard of Oz did take temporarily take away the hurt of having slipped into bed only five hours before. It is the little things that make me happy.

~Frenchie

you know you are in law school when...

I'm riding the T with my friend Cher (obvious pseudonym is obvious. I would die if I could actually be within two feet of sparkles/glitter/drag-queen/legend/JackMcFarlandjustcreamedinhispants) and I watch the car slowly filling with people who keep miraculously upright on the Boston transit system's version of Magic Mountain.  I can't help but wonder aloud how good of a case there would be if someone fell and injured themselves. There obviously aren't enough handrails, people are being pushed up against strangers, the floor is slippery from the rain, and I get to be the smug and contented asshole now getting dirty looks as I sit in one of the few available seats.

Cher gets us even more attention as she chimes in with the even BETTER scenario that if there was a fire most people wouldn't be able to escape and that would result in even bigger damages for our client. Whee!

Both of us are carrying several law books - just to make sure people know that we aren't undergraduates- but there is no mistaking the glares from people slowly realizing that we are law school assholes (the fact that Cher and I then start musing on who we could get the most money from by taking them to court - the city of Boston, the transit system, or both - probably tipped them off).

Boston is a city full of law students. I'm sure this discussion has been hashed out a million times before by many many others (hell, the first month of Torts we spent a good two weeks discussing what kind of liability a germaphobe could get if s/he was accidentally touched while riding the T). Still this discussion goes on for a good twenty minutes more than it needed to and in the end the main conclusion Cher and I come to in our ohgodfinalsareapproaching state is that we think we have finally crashed the threshold into being actual future lawyers.  It takes a special person to think about death and suffering and compute that into damages and liability; I am happy to say that law school has now made me see potential liability in everything. Is this good or bad? Who knows. But it does put the goodness and perkiness of Elle Woods into a whole new sinister perspective for me.

~Frenchie