News of the unexpected

I don't normally think of New Orleans as country, but after today, I may be forced to reevaluate my position. I was driving home today, taking a shortcut through the bad neighborhood that borders mine, when I saw this big animal in the street. I couldn't really figure out what it was, and at first I thought it was a cat, but I soon realized it was a bird, a really big bird. Pigeons certainly don't get that big, so I slowed down to take a look. What was in the road? A rooster. A big, colorful rooster, pecking at some random food that had been thrown into the street. Who has to swerve around a rooster in New Orleans? It's weird, right? I mean, I saw a lot of roosters in Hawaii, where they're strangely abundant, and my hometown is basically on the border of Amish country, so no surprise there, but in New Orleans? And not just New Orleans, but ghetto New Orleans. Pink Pirate has suggested cockfighting as the cause for my run-in with the rooster. I'm hoping that's not the case, because I find them sort of cute. Either way, this city just keeps surprising me.

As promised, back to our regularly scheduled bitching

Dear Lady in Front of Me at the Grocery Store,
Holy Mother of God, why are you writing a check for your groceries? More to the point, why are you not only writing a check, but taking 10 minutes to do so? Your signature needn't be in perfect calligraphic form. If you're worried that maybe the bank won't recognize your writing, trust me when I say that they'll take away your money, messy signature or not. In the meantime, you're holding the rest of us up, and I've been fidgeting and sort of rolling my eyes for a while now, in the hopes that it will induce you to hurry up. See, I don't know if you've noticed, but we're in the express lane, where people come to check out when they aren't buying that much or are, presumably, in a hurry. Look, it even says "Speedy Checkout" right there on the sign above the register. So, seriously, move your ass, because although I have nowhere important to be, I'd rather not stand in this line forever. And next time, remember your debit card. You know, that convenient little piece of plastic that is much faster than your antiquated checkbook? Although I don't like necessarily like Visa's recent commercials, or agree that the card is faster than cash, it's certainly faster than a checkbook, and it would really make me happy if you'd use it.
Thanks,
The Impatient Girl Standing Behind You

I'm almost back

Sorry for the long absence...classes start again on Monday, so it'll be back to our regularly scheduled bitching.

Home for the Holidays

Hello Friends:
Well, I am now mere hours from being shipped off to my parents' house for holiday break. I have packed my bags, checked my flight times, and checked the weather, which in true Lancaster fashion is neither fun Northern weather nor fun Southern weather, but a lovely 45 degrees and rainy. Anyway, I am writing to let y'all know that posting might be a little sporadic in the coming week and a half, but I'll certainly clue you in if anything truly exciting takes place in the land of the Amish.
Merry Christmas,
Liza

A day in the life of...

Yesterday was a remarkably bad day. I'm back to happy today, but feel the need to share my thoughts about it anyway. I blame Entergy. They started it.

11:15 pm: The electricity goes out. I frantically call Entergy, get no response, and proceed to stomp around the house cursing.

11:30: I lie in bed, audibly sighing, trying to go back to sleep while ranting in my head about how much I hate Entergy.

11:32: Max informs me that he, too, is trying to sleep. I shut up.

11:45(ish): I finally fall back to sleep.

2:55 am: Electricity comes back on momentarily. I wake up and rejoice. The electricity blinks back off again.

5:00: Max’s alarm goes off. I wake up to find that the electricity is still off. Cue the frantic dialing of Entergy’s outage reporting line. I get no response. I am now too pissed off to go back to bed, so I get up to take a shower.

5:05: Electricity comes back on.

5:05-5:45: Stand in the shower, occasionally ranting and crying with frustration because dammit, I didn’t get enough sleep and how dare Entergy mess with me when I have a final coming up. Max finally calms me down, and I feel awake enough to get dressed.

6:00: Electricity goes out again. I call Entergy and, after waiting on hold for 5 minutes, get someone on the line. She informs me that my electricity will not be back on until 10:30. I say something rude and hang up.

6:15: I leave the house, determined to get McDonald’s breakfast to soothe my anger.

6:45: McDonald’s has screwed up my order. I eat it anyway, thinking the whole time how unsatisfactory it is.

9:00: Exam begins.

11:30: Still frantically typing. I’m sure that I am failing even as I write my answers. I have the urge to cry hysterically and drop out of law school.

12:00: Exam is now over. I leave, shout “fuck” in the hallway, and get yelled at by Academic Services lady.

1:00-6:00: I drink beer and try to calm down by watching the same movie twice. My dad calls me, and I inform him that I’m dropping out of law school. He tells me that everyone hates law school in the middle of their second year. I am strangely calmed by this news.

7:30: Have semi-drunken conversation with friend about upcoming Evidence exam. Having calmed her down, I feel better, and proceed to read my outline several times, hoping to memorize it.

11:00: Go to bed and attempt to quiet brain down by telling myself over and over that I have gone to class, and will thus do fine on Evidence exam. Having adopted Zen-like state concerning exam, I finally go to sleep.

Baffled

My evidence professor has never let us miss a class. There's always a make-up. He also apparently felt the need to complete the entire syllabus. This doesn't seem all that abnormal, but by completing the syllabus, I mean that he felt the need to cram the last two or three assignments into the very last class. Those last few assignments were worth over one hundred pages of really gripping reading. I just don't understand this. I mean, is that last hour and fifteen minutes going to make me a better lawyer? Probably not. Is he going to expect us to know as much about that last class as we do about cross and direct examination, which we spent three weeks on? Most likely. Professors, let me just tell you this: with a few exceptions, students are okay with missing out on a few things. We won't be mad at you because we're not getting our money's worth. Our budding legal careers will not flounder and die because we don't everything there is to know about a given subject. I mean, seriously, there's always Bar-Bri. So just calm down. If you find yourself at the end of the semester, and there's still an assignment or two left, just let it go. We'll be fine. You'll be fine. Trust me.

Hooray for booze!

I think this is a fantastic idea. In fact, I'm going to go crack open a drink right now.