Slacking at Slacking

Being a second semester 3L, there are certain things that I should be doing these last couple months. Or, not doing, as the case may be. By all accounts, I shouldn't really be reading for class, or going to class, or caring all that much at all. Instead, I'm pretty sure that I should be drinking too much, and starting my weekends early, and generally making the most of my time here in New Orleans before I leave for less crime-ridden pastures in May. Basically, I should have the mother of all cases of senioritis, since this is my third time as a carefree senior. Turns out, I'm kinda bad at being a slacker.

On Wednesdays, I have three classes, and I'm done at 3:45. Not too late or anything, but I had to go to the grocery store, and I hate going shopping during rush hour, because I'm nothing if not impatient, and being at the Winn-Dixie between 4 and 5 is liable to cause me to scream upon seeing the first person holding up the line by say, writing a check or something. It's an attractive trait, I know. Anyway, I was sort of toying with the idea of skipping class, and had decided to blow off the last one, get to the store early, and get my shopping done before I would've even closed my laptop at 3:45. Unfortunately, I'd seen the professor earlier that day to have him sign a form and, even more troubling, I actually like said professor, and the class. So I hemmed and hawed, and left the building to go the grocery store, having made up my mind to play hooky. Except, somewhere around State St. I started feeling guilty. At Nashville it was even worse, and I was convinced that karma would get me for blowing off class. So halfway up Jefferson, I turned around. I drove back to school, and ran to class. I was ten minutes late, but at least my karmic balance was intact.

Guess not. The room had a mildew problem, and smelled like hot, moldy vanilla. This is what I get for being the worst slacker ever. Next time, I'm gonna keep driving.

The Petri Dish

Here we are, in the thick of cold and flu season, so I'd like to give you one of my all-time pet peeves, to make you feel better. Are you feverish, unable to swallow because of a sore throat, vomiting, sneezing, coughing, or otherwise ill? Are you out in public, sharing the wealth with the healthy people? If so, I hate you a little bit. Because, WHY?! One of my best friends currently has the stomach flu that's been going around the law school (which might rival a daycare center in sheer germ levels). Where is she? At home, having decided to keep her germs to herself. Which is part of what I love about her: she's considerate. She knows that the rest of us wouldn't want to spend the next three days eating only saltines and ginger ale, so she's taking a couple days off. And that's fine, because she's probably not missing anything. You heard it here: your job, your classes, none of them are that important that you just can't miss them. Unless you're an on-call brain surgeon, and someone will die if you don't go to work, just stay home. I'll even give you my class notes. Because to do otherwise is just unfair. Thanks, and get well soon.

Hold on a sec

Okay, here's my monthly post about how I suck for not updating and I promise to do it soon. It's just that I've been busy with the school starting and the vice that goes along with this first week. I might actually need a weekend to recover from my weekend. So, I'll be back soon. For now though, I'll leave you with this friendly tip: if you don't already watch Friday Night Lights, you should do so. It's fantastic, and it needs more viewers or I might be deprived of my weekly Texan drama fix. And with the writer's strike, I know you're not really watching much else. Unless you're planning on getting sucked into Farmer Wants a Wife. No, I'm not kidding. And if any of you ladies need more convincing, some of those football players are pretty foxy. So get to it.