Like a Virgin

So, this is it: my very first blog post ever.
Which I suppose comes at a very interesting time because yesterday I defended my very first deposition ever. There's a first time for everything "they" say.

First, about the title of my blog: I once was on a date at a fancy restaurant in East Liberty where everything was just a tad bit too gourmet. But, hey, I didn't pick the joint and I wasn't the one footing the bill (and I did have the chicken). Anyway, when the server brought out the bread and butter, I immediately began laughing so hard that I nearly soiled myself. The butter was flamingly hot pink. Really, really pink.
When I shared this information with a friend, he told me that the phrase "hot pink butter" could be mistaken for a description of a vagina. And I was forever sold on the phrase.

OK, as far as things in my life that are worthy of typing out and publishing on the internet, here goes:

Law school is dumb. The students are either completely lame or supersweet and married. Not that I am using the hallowed concrete halls of the Barco as my personal meat locker, but I spend so much time there that you'd think that I'd be attracted to at least ONE man.

The Steelers have to come up with something that makes Big Ben bionic. Seriously, what the fuck? How are we supposed to win a freaking Super Bowl for the Bus' last season when Ben is injured every two weeks? I am by no means a "fair-weather fan." I can not even remember the last time I missed watching (or listening to) a Stee's game. And, as far as that term goes, there is very little "fair weather" in the Burgh O'Pitts. All I am saying is that we should give Ben some more padding or more protection.

Oh, and my alma mater just beat Wisconsin. Hell yeah! Eat shit, U of Pitt.
We ARE Penn State.

Last night, I was in my PJs, sippin' a cold IC Light pounder while making fun of Amy Grant's "Three Wishes" on TV. Very comfortable and satisfying, really. Then, my friend called to tell me that she wanted me go go out to Lava for "one drink" to meet her new friend. (Note: Lava is within 500 feet of my apartment.) I (of course) protested and told her that she was too late; I was already in for the night. Lame, I know. But, she transformed this request into a "favor" and the guilt trippin' began. Before I could put an end to her pleading, she was parked outside of my place. I let her in and, well, within 15 minutes, I had jeans and a T-shirt on. So, long story short, I had more than one drink. I met some new people and had a boatload of fun!
The moral of the story is: don't put up such a fuss when your friend(s) try to get you to go out, even when you feel poopy.

One more thing, my fish tanks are completely going south. At the same time, I am very proud of myself for breeding my first generation of snails. Breeding snails is (in the fish business) considered to be as easy as falling down the stairs whilst wasted. But, I've never been able to get them to fuck each other. See, I bought 3 yellow snails with the optimistic view that they could not all possibly be of the same sex. And they weren't. So, a few weeks ago, I noticed what seemed to be egg pouches stuck to the tank wall above the waterline. And they hatched. Oh, did they hatch. Now I have over one hundred tiny little snails in my fish tank. And, I think that they are somehow polluting my fish.
In the other tank, there is no snail problem, but the fish seem to be dying nonetheless. I am sick of scooping out fish carcasses. It's depressing.
You might be thinking that I am simply a negligent fish mother. I assure you that I have been maintaining tanks for close to six years & this is a historic time of death and disease.
If you have any good ideas to stop this plague, please advise.

I'll shut up now. Go Pens!