Holy Electronic Voting Machines, Batman!

The time has finally arrived. Springtime equals primary elections. Maybe that's why I received my glossy "How to Vote on an Electronic Voting Machine for Dummies" brochure in the mail just last week. I obviously did not have enough time to properly study its contents.

Upon entering my usual polling place, I was overcome with a sad nostalgia (but first, I checked to see if my favorite same 6 senior citizens were running the show); for where those faded mint green metal monsters with the sweet automatic curtains once stood, there were 2 black plastic oversized pop-up screens.

As a MegaTouch Photo Hunt fan, I was sure that these silly things would be no match for my kickass touch-screen skillz. And they weren't. But, something strange caught my eye while voting...

The first screen listed the ballots for the top positions, e.g. Governor, Lt. Gov., Senator. Then, the second page listed the candidates for State Representatives, Committe Members, etc. But, um, the second page not only listed the names of the candidates, but their genders, too! What's up with that? Why don't you have Gov. Rendell listed as a "male"? But, in order to elect committe members, we have to know what version of genitals they possess?

Am I totally nuts, or is this the first time genders have been listed on the ballot? Or is that some type of freaky Committe requirement - half dudes, half broads? AYFKM?, quoting Throck.

Oh, whatever, I'm too busy studying for the PAB MS with PMBR that I don't have the strength to rant abaht the entire electronic voting pro-cess. Change is good, right? Um, right.

As long as we get Tricky Ricky in the fall...

I CAN SEE!

Yes, indeed. I can see. Without glasses. For the first time in almost 18 years. It is really trippy, to be honest. I feel kinda naked without my glasses, but fortunately, I get to wear these pimp sunglasses (or "solarshields" as the LASIK folks call them) for the next few days. I have an appointment later today to make sure all is kosher with my corneas.

The LASIK procedure was painless, except for the sinking feeling that I was experiencing an alien brain removal on a padded table, while being forced to stare at this blinky orange light. The famous Dr. Whitten kept saying things like "You're doing great. Focus on the light. (Sounds of an electronic blade whirring in the background) Now, the light will disappear for a second. Now, the light will be blurry. Good. Good. Doing great. (Sounds of a laser melting my corneas, complete with the smell of burning tissue) Now, the light will be clearer. OK, almost done. (I can see a tiny spatula smoothing out my corneal flap). OK, next eye." Repeat.

Granted, the whole thing took like, 4 minutes, but holy, holy, holy. Thank gawd for the Valium. And the squishy stress ball that I was kneading in my right hand.

The only part that sucked was that the numbing eye drops wore off after thirty minutes, as my mom & I were approaching the Soufside. And, I became instantly miserable. So, I swallowed the Tylenol PM, smoked a square, taped the hard plastic eye patches to my face & pounced into bed. Apparently, the most painful part of LASIK is the 6 hours following the procedure. They highly recommend sleeping during this phase. So, I did. Then, you're fine. Perfectly fine. But, I did wake up about 3 hours into my nap. And I made the huge mistake of briefly opening my eyes. For a nanosecond. AND IT KILLED. Imagine a burning, aching, gravel-in-your-eyes sensation. So, I shut them, but the burning continued. So I slept some more. And I can see.

So, to all you nay-sayers out there...I can see. Time will only tell if this is just a passing sensation.

New wardrobe of sunglasses, here I come!

LASIK = Waiving My Right to Trial?

In preparation for my LASIK surgery (while simultaneously procrastinating in re: the Copyright memo), I sat down with the 8-page "Informed Consent" form. I was told to read it carefully before coming in for the procedure tomorrow. Since I have already endured 2 appointments to prepare me for this disturbing, yet desirable event, I thought that this document would just reiterate all the things I've been told by my doctors & technicians. But, no. Pages 5 & 6 of the form contain an Arbitration Agreement (read like a Pirate, "arrrrgh-bit-tration"), which states:

Arbitration is the resolution of a dispute by an impartial third person whose decision is binding on the parties. (duh) We have found that resolving disputes by arbitration is a quick & efficient alternative to the court system. (I'm still with ya) As a result, we request that all patients receiving services at TLC sign this agreement. (you are requesting? really? or is it more like forcing?) By signing this Arbitration Agreement & consenting to treatment, you agree that:
1. Any dispute you have arising out of the diagnosis, treatment & services you received by TLC or your surgeon or personal eye care doctor, including treatment & services you received before the date of this Arbitration Agreement, or the applicability & scope of this Arbitration Agreement will be resolved exclusively & finally by binding arbitration except for (a) judicial review of the arbitration proceedings or (b) claims within the jurisdictional limit of small claims court. (Judge Judy, here I come)
Etc. etc. etc.
The undersigned agrees that he/she waives his/her right to trial in court for any future malpractice claim he/she may have against TLC, your surgeon &/or personal eye care provider.

Um, whoa pardner. TLC, I thought that we had a trusting relationship. I mean, I pay you $4,600 & you hook me up with good vision for life. Oh, & some valium & Tylenol PM. But, no. You want to take away my Constitutionally-protected right to sue your ass & replace it with some bullshit Arrrrrgh-bit-tration Clause. I'm gonna have to sleep on this one.

The Love Test? Fer real?

Folks, I need some help here. I have Googled & Asked, & my question remains unanswered by this great invention called the Internet(s).

The question is: Which movie contains the scene where a dude walks up to his car, unlocks the passenger side door & lets his girl get in...as he walks around the car to his door, she has already leaned over to unlock his door? Somewhere along in the movie, her act is discussed & considered to be extrinsic proof that she truly loves him. (Of course, the car did not have automatic locks, so he would've had to use his key again to unlock his own door.)

Does this little humane act equal true love? Not in my modern world, but it may mean that the passenger lady cares. Actually, I always do this in cars without automatic locks...does that mean that I should marry each person I ride with, whose car is sans auto unlocking systems?

C'mon, please help me settle this bet...

Arigato gozimasu.

51A Freak of the Week

So, this morning I had to grab a bus to take me into tahn for my job interview. Of course, I was running a bit behind my preplanned schedule. See, Pittsburgh buses (& traffic & detours & people) are rather unpredictible. Thus, I wanted to build in a 30 minute buffer for traveling to a place I could walk to in 35 minutes. And the cardinal rule of job interviews is to be on time, if not early. Anyhoo, I (miraculously) caught the 51A at 11:30am, with 30 minutes until the interview. Things were looking up. The bus was pretty empty, so instead of heading to the back of the bus & sitting in the U-shaped section (as I usually do), I sat in one of the doubles along the left side of the bus. I placed my briefcase on the aisle seat next to me & began rehearsing interview answers in my head.

Approximately 3 blocks later, a man who I always see riding the buses, dressed in his life uniform of jeans, denim jacket & Pirates ball cap, boarded the bus. He took forever to pay his $1.75, digging around in his pockets & wallet, and we missed the light at 20th. This makes me a tad annoyed on days like this where time is of the essence. And then he jammed the change-thingy by pushing his quarters in the slot until the driver told him to "Stop it." Then, denim man walked back & stood over me until I got the message that he wanted to sit where my briefcase was. So, I gave him a look & politely (but, internally begrudgingly) moved my bag onto my lap. He sat down, making sure to rub up against me at least three times. (Remember, the bus had, like 25 empty seats, many of them without anyone to share; further, I was the only professionally-dressed woman on the bus, i.e. pantyhose (no undies, T!), suit, high heels, etc.) So, this sleazeball sits down next to me, real close like, and keeps giving me this look. And he was sitting soooooo very close. Ugh. But, I was trapped by the window & couldn't really escape & change seats without looking like a total bitch. So, I closed my eyes & waited to get the hell across the Mon River so that I could jump off this bus. I can easily say that this was one of the most uncomfortable bus rides in recent memory. Especially since I was kinda nervous about the interview and really did not need a freak to be all up in my personal space. I had this wierd feeling that he was getting off from sitting so close to me, but I could not bring myself to check to see if he had an erection.

I survived, por supuesto, but, seriously I am putting the PAT bus freaks on notice: there is no need to sit virtually on top of the one normal-looking person on the bus. None. My relative normalcy/sanity will not rub off on you during the 15 minute ride dahntahn. It is physically impossible. Try therapy. I need some, myself.

Enough ranting. The interview went well, but I was informed that he was interviewing another 8 candidates. Hooray. Now onto conquer the world of secondary copyright liability. Joy.

48 Hours, Backwards & Forwards

Well, howdy there. Bet you weren't expecting to see a new post on the Butter. And here I am.

Here I am, fresh from a wedding roadtrip to northeast Philly. Suburban Philly. Meaning a place where the road is split into, like 4 sets of 3 lanes, the ones in the middle being for folks who do not want to make any turns & the outer ones for people like us who are staying at the Radisson & brunching at IHOP. With Walgreens & Wawas on every corner.

In brief, it was a quick trip across Pee-Ay & back, with kudos to the Turnpike Commission & PennDOT. Psych! Total cost of tolls: $34.50. What a (monopolistic) bargain. The ceremony was held at this little old covered bridge in Bucks County under sunny skies. I had the refreshing opportunity to reunite with some old high school & college pals & dance my pants off with all the older ladies & little kids in the bride's family's beautiful yard.

So, I am back in the Burgh, facing down the last 1/2 of a copyright memo. This memo is the last fucking thing I have to do for law school. THE LAST. Pretty sweet, huh? I researched & wrote the first half almost 2 weeks ago. Then, of course, Nona passed & I had to study for Es&Ts & finish my seminar paper. This puppy is due Tuesday at noon. Um, that's like 15 minutes before I am scheduled to have Lasik surgery on my eyeballs. Of which I am psychologically terrified. Oh, and I have my first job interview in a year tomorrow at noon. Big gulp.

I, like BFF TMcC, simply yearn to have the freedom to clean my apartment & chill out before I begin studying for the bar exam on May 15. Yep, PMBR starts in ONE WEEK. Then, BarBri starts on the 22nd. And, well, it's all downhill from there.

Wish me luck.

My Perfect Job, As Imagined

OK, this is a BIG "what-if", but...

This January, I had lunch with a Professor to brainstorm about enviro law non-profit job opportunities/ideas/whatev. Over huevos rancheros, Silverfox joked that if I could come up with my own salary, LITERALLY PAY MYSELF TO WORK THERE, he would hire me at PF. Like, get myself a grant or "ask Daddy to pay your salary." Um, WHAT? A little insulting, I must say. But this was all in jest. He was just trying to lighten what seemed to be an extremely bleek situation; there are so few prospsects for a fresh, young enviro law grad who wants to remain in her beloved P-burgh. (Gawd, I just used the 3rd person in referring to myself.) And practice enviro law, or any type of law at all, for that matter.

Here's the "what-if?" portion of the idea...that's if you're being pessimistic, though.

I'll do better than pay my own measly salary to work at PF.

I WILL WIN POWERBALL.

Then, I will buy King's Court across from the Barco & turn it into a HUMONGOUS Legal Clinic! I will buy some sweet new technology so that we can keep up with the resources of big firms and represent even more pro se litigants. I will provide salaries for staff attorneys for each clinic so that we can really get some work done. And then, I will buy some great professors to work in it! It will be the smoothest, pimpist law school clinic on the planet. Trust me.

And, of course, I will have a job there, too. As a "good-side-of-the-lawsuit" enviro hippie gansta attorney. And I will pay my own salary. Hooray.

Don't worry, though. Seymour will get his comeuppance once the whole Powerball thing comes through in the form of some sweet mountain woods.

So, there. That's my plan.
Happy Holidays!

This Weather Rocks!

If I could experience intermittent lightning/thunderstorms every night throughout the spring & summer, life would be perfect. It would be a nice warm day, followed by a refreshing evening storm to rinse away afternoon.

Well, maybe eventually I would begin to take it for granted. Begin to forget how cool it is. Like a sunrise or sunset. Or like the people who live in places where you can see the Aurora Borealis.

It's probably better this way. Yeah, it's good that thunderstorms only happen now & again.

Nice work, weather patterns.

Big Weave Plus One (More)

Last night, I attended my first ever "Boot Camp" at Naka Fitness. Basically, this amounted to 2 hours of heart-pounding hip hop aerobics, supplemented with tons of abs & weights. Suffice it to say that I am really sore this morning. But, the most important news of the night was that Weave ran out of the class at 8:30pm (after class, but before stretching) to go to the hospital because his wife was having a baby! GO BIG WEAVE! Procreate! Good job!

Weave, you are such an amazing person & asset to this town. You are a great father, teacher & role model. I am so happy that you are having another kid, cause that means that there will be another kickass dancer in the Burgh. And that kid will have a father who we all adore.

Congrats!

T.C. + IC Light = Happy Days

If you aren't familiar with T.C., then you are not a Pittsburgh sports fan. Or, you simply have never been to a Steelers, Pirates or Penguins game. No matter. Just watch this slideshow from the PP-G about my favorite vendor on Opening Day 2006.

Editor's Note: Call it a coincidence, but two different people emailed me this link today. They used to be married to each other. I'll leave the sleuthing to yinz.

Just Call Me "Shit for Brains"

Hi there. Um, today when I posted for the first time in, like, 3 weeks, I tried to be all "oh, sorry I've been too busy to blog." Then, I mumbled (Query: Can you mumble while blogging, since it is really an audible act?) something about procrastination, which was my brain's passive-aggressive way to complain about my seminar paper about how nasty waste coal flyash is for "remediation" of acid mine drainage. ANYHOO, I was not being completely straight with you about why I have not been posting on the Butter.

This is really embarrassing...what's even more embarassing is the fact that I have actually sought help from other bloggers about my "problem with Blogger."

Um, yeah, I forgot what my Blogger username was. Yep. I kept trying to log in as "Diceburgh" instead of "candacestockey." To add to the confusion, every time I logged in as Diceburgh, I existed. Although there was no blog attached to that username, nor was there a complete profile, Diceburgh (with my corresponding password) lived. But not with the Butter. Confused? Me, too.

So, this went on for. like. two. weeks.

Long story short, it occurred to me on the bus yesterday that perhaps I had been using the wrong username. And I was (obviously) correct in my well-overdue hypothesis.

An aside: In this age of multiple online accounts (email(s), school, banking, eBay, NYT, photo services, etc.), how in the hell are we supposed to keep all of our usernames & passwords straight? I only ask because it is considered poor form to always use the same username &/or password. Lordy. My brain is way too overloaded sometimes, I guess. So there. I'm not perfect. Ha!

P.S. Buccos won tonight!! We're 2 and 7, bitches. Watch aht, Cubbies! And T's loverboy, C.Dubs had a homer. Excellent!

Let's Go Bucs!

Sorry for the prolonged absence. Since I am supposed to be writing my seminar paper right now, I am obviously using the Butter as a procrastination device.

I would just like to say that the Pirates are off to a sad start, yet again. 1-7 with an embarassing home opener, yet again. Silly errors & a collective inability to judge how balls will riccochet off the outfield wall. These dudes need some more Spring Training. But, this critique is expected from any devoted fan.

I would like to publicly complain about the Pirates' score cards, which are available for $1.00 at PNC Park. This year, some morons decided to make the entire score card glossy, instead of just the outside. Writing with a little pencil does not work very well on a glossy surface. Further, the eraser removes the carbon, but since you have to press so hard to write on it, the indentations remain after you erase. Thus, I must insist that they stop printing the score cards like that & go back to the old format. OK, it was good to get that off of my chest.

Yesterday was the first official day of spring according to the book of Dice. My own personal federal holiday of sorts. The weather was glorious, the beer was cold and I was surrounded by friendly faces. I suppose making it onto the Jumbo-tron TWICE in one game could be considered to be an accomplishment. Oh, and scaling a 15-foot tall lamp post to steal a humungous yellow balloon without getting arrested could also be seen as a great endeavor. Or just drunken stupidity? Whatever you call it, yesterday rocked! Thanks everyone for blowing off school/work/etc. for some well-deserved celebration.

Now, all we've gotta do is win some freeking games.
Go Buccos!

Hillman Cellular Meltdahn

First of all, sorry to all my Butter fans whom I've been neglecting. I will probably not have much time to blog in the near future...but I gotta share this one with yinz.

As has been my recent habit, I was reading (last week's) Es&Ts assignment on the 4th floor of Hillman yesterday. There are signs posted everywhere about cell phone usage. You are only supposed to use them on the G-Level, in the Cup & Chaucer cafe & in the stairwells.

Whatev. In any library, there is usually no need for me to worry about my cellie for a few reasons:
First, it's usually off.
Second, I am in the library to bust a fucking move on my workload, not chit-chat with my pals.
Third, I only have, like 5 friends, anyway. It's my dad who calls all the time. Communication is the basis for a healthy relationship, right?
Fourth, Shut the fuck up!

That said, this is what happened yesterday at the table behind me: A (blind) older man made no less than 5 consecutive phone calls; I call him blind because he obviously couldn't see the cell phone rules which are displayed ubiquitously (a word?) in this joint. As if this whole situation wasn't annoying enough, the fucking subject of these phone calls was this dude's nasty-ass colon. Yeppers, he was calling to schedule a COLONOSCOPY!

OK, I pitied my pops when he had to have one...it was even kinda funny to talk to him on the phone as he left the hospital, 'cause he was all fucked-up on drugs. And he is very prahd of being "high on life!"; "No artificial stimuli!"

But, this blind, inconsiderate assman interrupted my learning about holographic wills with concerns about his colon. Steamy topic for public conversation. I know that when I want to discuss my cooter with the folks at Planned Parenthood, I make sure to be in the quietest public place possible, so that everyone can hear about the juicy details of my snatch. It makes perfect sense.

I hope he fails his colon testing process.

Look, I am not usually this much of a biiiaach...Sorry, just releasing some stress thru blogging. Thank god there's only 3.5 hours 'til Weave.

The Lower 9th Ward

Today, after an afternoon of sitting at the legal aid table at the St. Bernard Parish DRC (Disaster Relief Center, aka "FEMA tent"), the NOLAC attorney I was working with took me on a drive through the Lower 9th Ward. This neighborhood, as you may know, was the hardest hit by Katrina. And by hardest hit, I mean that it no longer exists. At all. A nuclear holocaust would have left more buildings standing than Katrina did.

I'll let these photos do the talking, but I would like to take serious fucking issue with "President" G.W. Bush's "visit" to NO today. First, he was scheduled to stop by the St. Bernard DRC, as the Secret Service had scoped the place out last night & this morning (according to a security officer at the tent). And, well, he flaked. Su-prise, su-prise.

Secondly, all my pals working with ACORN demolishing drywall and emptying folks' houses of toxic refrigerators and furniture actually saw the motorcade drive by. Although they didn't see W, they caught a glimpse of Laura, hair helmet & all. The motorcade was reportedly 70ish vehicles long. No shit. Perhaps this is because every single resident of this town would like to personally shoot G Dubs. And the thing of the thing is...um, their SUV sped past at approximately 45 MPH. To give you some context here, it is really hard to take in the whole scene in while driving any faster than 10 MPH. To call it surreal is the understatement of the decade. So, he blasted through the 9th Ward, stopped by the Industrial Canal (which is under construction) & took a quick helicopter flight over NO. What a fucking douchebag. Period.

Enough blathering from me. I am still in shock from my experience today.

"We Thought It Was a Water Main Break"

Our cab ride to Jacques-Imo's last night was beyond real. Our cabbie told us his story of Katrina. Basically, he rode out the storm in his apartment. After it passed, he went outside and checked out the damage. He said that he was tired, so he went back inside, turned up the heat & went to bed. A few hours later, he went back outside & saw that there was some water in the streets. He & his neighbors thought that perhaps a water pipe had broken, or something like that. A few hours later, there was more water in the streets. Still, they had no idea what was coming their way. Finally, word reached this neighborhood that the levees had been breached & they instantly knew that they were screwed. He escaped...and has been living in Brownsville, Texas for the past six months. And he really did not like it much. He just "returned" to NO last week to begin working again, but he still doesn't live in the city. In fact, he lives almost an hour away, near Baton Rouge & drives in every day to drive folks around the city.

God bless Amerr-ica.

P.S. The cabbie's cellie rang while we were along for the ride. He answered, "Hello? Hell-O?" Then he started to laugh really hard. "You'll never believe who's calling me!" He turned down the radio & held the phone up so that we could all hear who was on the other end of the line...a recording of Mayor Ray Nagin pleading for his vote in the upcoming mayoral election. Christ.

This Lady's Got Some Serious Perspective

So, lunch today dahntahn was at Hobnobbers...a reccommendation from an attorney at NOLAC. Let me tell you, it was delish! So, you walk into this extremely poorly-lit bar...with a florescent-lighted cafeteria-style area in the way back of this establishment. The food was total homecookin', with a rotating list of daily specials. I had the salisbury steak with au gratin potatos. Not your average Eat n' Park wimpy-ass salisbury steak, but a Nerf football-sized ball of beef drenched in brown gravy. A. mazing.

And that's not the end of the story. Not by far. So we ate at the bar, Abita Restoration Ale (dedicated to rebuiling this city) in hand to wash down the goodness. The bartender, Lisa, inquired as to our buisness in NO & we told her about the Student Hurricane Network of law students. Then it got really interesting.

Lisa said that she has never been better. Life was treating her very well. Why, you might ask? Well, she had the foresight(?) to purchase a quarter-pound of pot around the time that Katrina hit. As a connoisseur of pot/hemp food, she whipped up a ton of pot brownies & sold them to folks after the storm. And she made a boatload of cash. And she did not have any bills or rent to pay. And she got a nice check from FEMA. And business at Hobnobbers was picking up. And her house was only missing its facade (she showed us a Christmas card/photo of her sitting in what looks like a doll house, as you can see everything inside from the outside). So, when I told her that she was the most positive person that I had met so far (as Katrina survivors go), she said that she was 99.9% happy. What constituted the tenth of a percent of unhappiness? Her boyfriend is currently in the hospital with pneumonia.

What a great outlook on life, huh?

"I'm keeping this line free for FEMA..."

In keeping with my promise to try to bring the feel of ReNew Orleans to you, I would like to relate this short ancedote. I find the most meaning and insight in the littlest things & this goes to that...

Since taking an outside smoke break in March is usually a huge pain in the cold Pittsburgh weather, I was overjoyed to sit outside of NOLAC on Common Street in the sunny afternoon & watch the traffic try to navigate the chaotic streets & intersections of this town. (Some intersections are now 4-way stops, sans stop signs...apparently, you just have to be psychic...or way cautious.)

Anyhoo, I was out on this bench getting some well-deserved nicotiene & overheard this man on the bench across from me on his cell phone with his cell service provider. His side of the conversation went something like this:

"I just need to know how many minutes I have left. I just payed, like $25 a couple of days ago."

"Oh, yeah...my number is 504-353-XXXX"

"That's 5-0-4...5-0-4...yeah, I'm in Newalins. Yup, Katrina. That's why I've gotta know how many minutes I've got left...I'm on a budget, man...belly laugh...I've gotta get off the phone with you, 'cause I'm keeping this line free for FEMA..."

And it made me wonder, just when will FEMA call this man? His whole life right now depends on a call from the government. God, W. sucks.

NO LA!

Hey y'all!

I made it to the dirrty, dirrty souf! Hooray! Granted, I'm going on like, 3 hours of sleep, but WTF? I'm in NOLA.

First impressions: From the airplane Newalins did not look that fucked up to be honest. True, there were blue FEMA roof tarps, but they covered only every fifth house or so. But perhaps we flew over a less impacted part of the city? I'm pretty sure that's what happened. From the airport to our lodging in the French Quarter, more damage was visible, especially on the taller buildings. Broken windows, missing signs, etc. But, then we passed the Superdome. And I kinda had this strange feeling in my stomach...like I had seen some real fucked up shit go down there (on TV). It was a spooky feeling. Especially since there was a huge sign on the Dome that indicated that the building will be back in operation in September - "Go Saints!"
Then we noticed that various traffic lights throughout town did not work. So, we proceeded with caution.

The French Quarter seems to be mainly suffering from a hangover from last week's Mardi Gras celebration...lots of streamers stuck in tree branches & condom wrappers in the streets (see photo above).

I will let yinz know how my first day of volunteer work goes tomorrow...I have orientation in one hour.

P.S. For lunch, I scarfed dahn some red beans & rice with sausage. Yummy! Washed that dahn with two Abita Ambers & pow: Energized Dice.

Stupid Shadyside

Yinz all know that the Steelers DVD premiere at Loews Theater in the Waterfront was interupted by a bomb threat the other night. Sad, but true. And yinz might guess that it was a Seahawks fan or Browns fan who placed the call. It's a possibility. But, last night on the news, it was revealed that the call originated from a pay phone in Shadyside.

Yeppers...uppity, high falutin', fancy-schmancy Shadyside. Fuckers. Now I have yet another reason to avoid hangin' aht in that neighborhood. Christ.

Can You Smell It?

Mmmmmmmm...it's the smell of Spring Break. And it starts (for me, at least) at 3:15pm EST tomorrow. Not so much the whole wet T-shirt contest/Booze Cruise version of S.B., but a period of time in which I do not have to think about a certain legal case for which I have read no less than 15 different briefs. Oh yeah, I get to read more of them when I get back from Newalins...but that's like, 11 days from now. All that stands between me & cleaning my apartment & packing up my shit is 14 pages of Es&Ts reading & ONE MORE BRIEF & accompanying student meeting.

Ahem, die M. L. Hosty & Dean Patricia Carter, die. You too, Steven Barbra & Jeni Porche, or whatever your name is. Fuck the Innovator & their weak-ass bi-monthly publishing schedule. Fuck prior restraints. Double fuck the qualified immunity Saucier test. And what's the fucking deal with the Governors State University lacking the possessive apostrophe? Lordy am I sick of editing 1L briefs. Can you tell?

Anyhoo, I am almost ready to do some serious cover letter action tomorrow evening, followed by Saturday's "Attack & Pack" plan, a clever name which I just may have to trademark. You know, this week has flown by, even though I haven't had the pleasure of my King's company. But that's OK. I know that he's in a better place than the Barco. And for that I am thankful...and jealous.

A quick shout out to the Hillman Library for providing me much-needed shelter/hiding me from 1Ls this week. The Cup & Chaucer rulz. Shit, I just let the cat ahtta the proverbial bag.

Tomorrow can't come soon enough.

All Points Bulletin: Colorado

The Queen of Nubia would like to send a shout out to the King of Nubia, wherever he is...be safe & have fun. I miss you already.

Goin' Snowboarding

See ya later!

So, 450 Law Students Walk Into a Bar...

...and realize that they have NO IDEA how the unique Louisiana system of Civil Law works.

What a cruel joke.

By Bar, I am referring to the Louisiana Bar, which contains a system of legal interpretation and jurisprudence that is completely foriegn to us. By us, I mean law students from the other 49 states that have only studied the Common Law legal system. Actually, I think that during the first week of law school some professor or casebook mentioned how Civil Law works, but that's all the exposure we've had. To simplify, Louisiana is the stubborn Euro legal outcast/lone CL holdout of the American legal system. Even more unfamililar than the "crazzzzy" 9th Circuit aht in Cali. Lordy.

I tried to dig up an explanation of the Civil Law system:

Great differences still exist between Louisiana Civil Law and the Common Law found in her 49 sister states. While some of these differences have been bridged due to the strong influence of the Common Law in the United States, it is important to note that the "Civilian" tradition is still deeply rooted in most aspects of Louisiana private law. Thus property, contractual, business entities structure, much of civil procedure, and family law are still mostly based on traditional Roman legal thinking and have little in common with English law. In contrast, criminal law and public administrative law are entirely based on the Anglo-American Common Law. Moreover, as in the rest of the U.S., federal law in Louisiana is entirely Anglo-American Common Law, except in the rare case where it deals with an area of Louisiana law that is Civilian (e.g., property law).
(Here's the rest of the Wikipedia article.)

OK, lemme get this straight: Katrina completely devastates Newalins. And although there are many lawyers & law students willing to lend a legal hand, um, we are going to be a tad confused with this whole French/Euro legal system. Supersweet.

Isn't it ironic? Don'tcha think?

I have some research to do before March 5th...

Ho. Lee. Shit: Only in McKeesport

OK, after watching TPIR today for the first time in two weeks, I was confronted with the noon news, which led with this story. It miraculously combines a Giant Eagle GetGo store, a fake "male organ", a microwave & a drug test. Oh, and McKeesport. (Heads up, Triple-G & Vicki.)

I love this tahn.

Plane Ticket? Check.

Hey, for those of yinz whom I have not yet excitedly informed...

I'm going to Newalins for Spring Break with 15 other Pitt Law students to volunteer at the office of New Orleans Legal Assistance! We are part of the Student Hurricane Network, along with numerous other law schools across the nation who will offer free legal aid to those impacted by Katrina. I am extremely pumped about the trip, but a bit nervous as to how depressing/devastating it all may be. I am sure that I will keep the Butter updated with my experiences, so stay tuned.

Super Effing Great.

I just peeped this article & almost threw up in my mouth a little.

Look, I like South Dakota & Mount Rushmore & their great Cabela's store on Interstate 90, but SFC!!! WTF??? And fuck you!!! Yinz guys are plotting to fuck with abortion rights and individual vaginas across the ENTIRE nation. And their timing couldn't be better with J. Alito & crew just chomping at the conservative bit. Unless the SCOTUS is smart enough to eventually deny cert.

Ahhh, the power of cert. denied...don't cry dear Hosty. "The South will rise again."

Hosty v. Carter Boredom

You're John Paul Stevens! You are the sole

remaining true liberal on the court. You

stand proudly for what you believe in, and

you seem to refuse to slow down. You are

strong when you should be weak, and by all

accounts, you'll live to be 200, good job!


Which Supreme Court Justice Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

An Epic Misclassification

On Sunday, I tuned into VH1's "100 Greatest One-Hit Wonders", (hereinafter, OHW) during a short break from my productivity. Since I have seen portions of this show before, I kinda spaced out in a half-listening kinda way. My attention was piqued when I heard the first chords of Faith No More's most well-known hit, Epic.

I couldn't understand VH1's classification of FNM & Epic as a OHW. All preceeding songs were OHWs as were the artists who performed them. Meaning that the other OHWs on the list never rose to fame again or had any career longevity. Therefore, I respectfully request that the Court of Music Justice find that VH1's interpretation of the standard of OHWs as applied to Epic was unreasonable.

OK, I've aired my beef. Time to get back to Hosty v. Carter...1L briefs. Ex. cell. ent.

Sunday, Sun-DAY, SUN-day!

Jeeesus, what a productive day! I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience, watching a completely Zen version of Dice efficiently plow through a seemingly insurmountable amount of work...then spend a few hours begging networked folks for a job for August 2006. Gracefully.

Then, passing out again...soon.

In re: the CCC, I would like to thank the Academy & my "law" pardner, T.McC for her constantly amazing sweetness, which is a multi-faceted type of sweetness. Like, when you need to freak aht abaht a cutie or be as silly as you wanna be-typa sweetness. Or, call the A/C Privilege a "doctrine" or wipe your snot on your shirt-version of the "ness that is sweet." See, also, Transporting a gallon jug of hair spray in her briefcase; Inability to function without coffee; General willingness to try to accept & love P-Burgh; Being the best Legal Writing TA the world has ever known. SFC! (Copyright, Throck. 2006.)

I'm just glad that we gave it our all. Roll roll glad. I love you. Team Peezy & HLPs foreva!

Oh, & I would like to also thank Pittsburgh. For keepin' it real. And the Steelers. Oh wait, this isn't an acceptance speech. Oops!

Way to fucking GO! Team Emily & Krista Ann! Fucking hell yes! You will rule again.

The reign of passive-aggressive behavior is ova! Praise the Barco!

G'night.

NYU 1Ls + OCI = WTF?

Byrnsie has tried to get me hooked on this ridiculous blog which seeps from the confines of brains smart enough to get in to NYU Law and rich enough to pay for it.

Is my jealousy that transparent?

Anyhoo, this post kinda made me laugh. I mean, who has the balls to give the finger to a evil law firm that early in their legal career? Respect.

Everyone Loves a Pittsburgh Girl

This article elegantly captures Pittsburgh's attitude: self-loathing, blue collar & above all else, Steelers-obsessed.

Happy Valentine's Day to all my homies.

"I Heard That You Were Talkin' Shit

And you didn't think that I would hear it
People hear you talking like that, getting everybody fired up..."

-Gwen S.

Well, it certainly worked, didn't it?

You know who you are.

******************************************************************************
P.S. Throck & Co., this has nothing to do with yinz & your CCC sweetness. A completely different situation. I could see how there may be confusion with said cheers, etc. Rock on.

One More Thing for Today

I am prahd to say that I scored 100% on The Pittsburghese Test. I mean, I knew I would, but I had to make sure. Enough patting myself on the back...I've got to try to start to begin thinking about wanting to maybe attempt to get myself interested in WRITING THIS G-D COPYRIGHT PAPER!! If it weren't for the luscious feathered hair (Madison, if you are reading this, I truly love it), I might have zero motivation whatsoever.

Sorry baht that...space period space period space period space punctuation.

More Than Words

This shot from the Victory Parade fucking says it all.

Youngest QB to win a Super Bowl (with the record lowest QB rating, to boot).

But the most heart.


Photo Credit: Arigato goziamasu, Katie's Valentine, Brian.

A Man So Evil He Shoots His Friends

I have been extraordinarily busy as of late, with equal parts work & fun. This trend is evidenced by my complete inability to blog about the Steelers Super Bowl Victory. I was too overwhelmed by the whole experience. I just couldn't do it justice with words & photos. I must say though, life is good. Roll roll good.

And about to hurl into overdrive for the next five weeks or so. The final push. The client counseling comp., sundry law school events, such as the PLSIF auction & law school prom, writing my "seminar" paper, the eating contest, the freaking symposium, annoying copyright law papers, & getting yinz all ready for the bar exam thru barbri. Oh well, I was hoping that I could spend Spring Break here in da Burgh, reading 1L briefs. It's going to be really relaxing. Psych.

Anyway, the title of this post is in reference to the news that Veep Dick Cheney shot his quail hunting buddy with a shotgun yesterday. A. Mazing. I feel bad for the 78-year old S.O.B. lawyer that was "sprayed" with shotgun pellets, but hey, I've got five words for anyone who hangs out with evil incarnate: assumption of the risk, dude.

The Karma Police are coming to get you. Finally.

Super Bowl XL Champions

The Steelers beat the Seahawks to capture their first title in 26 years.

And make my lifelong dream come true.

And I can't seem to focus on anything but.

It's been 3 days, & I can't get focused on life, school, etc. again. I am too proud of my Steelers & my gritty hometown. So, whenever I finally get my photos from Super Bowl Sunday & the Victory Parade on the Internet(s), I will post the link on the Butter.

Wish me well, 'cause I may be close to having a mental break with reality.

Thank you Steelers! For everything.

BRING IT ON!

How could I possibly convey how much I am freaking aht right nah?

4 hours 'til kickoff...I can't wait. Gotta go cook the kilbossa & kraut right nah.

Go Steelers!

Knowledge = Caher Paher

Here is the most up-to-date info on Super Bowl Sunday road closures. Looks like this time, the cops are really takin' it to the limit.

The following information comes courtesy of WTAE Channel 4:

Pittsburgh police are continuing to prepare their game plan for Sunday -- a plan that includes massive road closings. The overall intent of the closings is to create core areas where no vehicles will be allowed. Restrictions are set to begin by 9 p.m. People are allowed to be in the following areas on foot or with proof of address. Emergency vehicles, commercial trucks and buses will also be allowed through.

South Side

Carson Street from 10th Street to Hot Metal Street

Carson Street from Becks Run Road (inbound only)

Hot Metal Bridge

Birmingham Bridge

Oakland

Forbes Avenue from McKee to Bigelow (all side streets leading to Forbes Avenue will be closed including DeSoto, Meyran, Atwood, Bouquet, etc.)

Bates Street at Blvd. of the Allies

Oakland exits from 376 (Parkway East) may be closed from 10 p.m. to 1 a.m. depending on level of traffic congestion in the Oakland area.

Strip District

21st Street and Smallman

21st Street and Penn (to the 16th Street Bridge)

15th Street and Smallman (outbound)

Downtown

Fifth Avenue from Grant Street (westbound)

Forbes and Grant (on Forbes)

Third Avenue and Grant (on Third)

Liberty Avenue from Stanwix Street and Liberty

Fourth Avenue and Stanwix Street

Blvd. of the Allies and Wood Street

Smithfield Street and Blvd. of the Allies

Oliver Avenue and William Penn to Fifth Avenue

Smithfield Street and Penn Avenue

Wood Street and Sixth

Liberty Avenue and Sixth

North Shore

Clemente Bridge

You guys might have to rent a boat to cross the Mon, 'cause all the bridges to the Soufside are gonna be blocked. Shit. But...the BUSses will still be running. Seriously.

I Ride the Bus...Everyday!

I LOVE YOU, Bussy.

Oh, & I love Port Authority, too. Go BUS & 54C!

Are You Kidding Me?

I kinda freaked out when I heard that Polamalu injured his ankle in practice yesterday, but...here's an update.

Jeez, I guess I never thought of the possibility for injuries at this point.

Go Steelers!

Cleveland Still Sucks!

Check aht this 3-minute slide show from Cleveland...they still hate us, but it's fucking worth it.

GO Steelers!

Oh...It's ON Now.

Drum roll, please.

The shit-talking has begun. Credit Seabirds' Jerramy Stevens for getting Peezy pissed off enough to defy Coach Caher's pleas for media discretion this week. Ahhhhh, the equation is almost complete: Peezy is jacked + Seabirds cheerleaders + Bussy is home + Seattle's white towels = Steelers Victory!

Wahoo!

Seattle Seahawks: A Lesson in Uber-Politeness

I've have been pondering the whole Seattle v. P-Burgh matchup for days. It's just not the same as hating Indy & the Manning family or being a hollaback girl when a Denver reporter calls your hometahn "butt-ugly."

Seattle's just waaaay too nice about the whole thing. I would feel kinda bad talkin' the trash I really want to spew. What a moral crisis! But, we all know that Dice really can't stand boys that are waaaay too nice, so it follows that...

Fuck it, here goes:

1. Look, folks, I warned you that you were on notice as to NOT try to rival the Terrible Tahl. And, what did you give away at your little S.B. Pep Rally, I ask? LITTLE WHITE TOWELS. This is exactly the shit I am talking about. White is the color that is commonly utilized to indicate a surrender. As in, "We give up." And I explained this to you last week. WTF, Seattle? I've been a Steelers fan almost as long as your cute little teal & green team has existed. Get with the fucking program here.

2. It's true, the Seabirds have the nicest, phattest, dope airplane in the NFL. Apparently, according to ESPN, "every seat is in First Class." You know, the whole extra room for your legs thing, video screens for every seat, etc. Excellent. And the poor little Steelers had to take a commercial charter flight on U.S. Airways. Shit, even our transportation is more hardcore than Seattle's. At least we didn't have to ride the bus (e.g. Greyhound) all the way to Detroit, as one unenlightened Seattle fan mistakenly believed. * (Duder, it's just an expression...the "Bus" is really Jerome Bettis.)

3. The Seabirds HAVE CHEERLERADERS! This fact, standing alone, almost guarantees a black 'n gold victory. See, e.g. Stees v. Ben-gals; Stees v. Indy.

4. OK, that's enough for today. I'm gonna focus on us.

And for the record, fuck Seattle & it's little ubiquitous Starfucks, too!

(Sorry, Frightened Monkey & Ma Vie, what can I say?)

*The Seattle Times article in which this thought was expressed is no longer available as a free link. Sorry.

And Bode Miller is Seeing Double?

The State Penn Ski Team rocks!
Never been a member, but as the big sis of one ("Stockey Bombs"), I've been to many of their gatherings. Ski shots & Carlos Rossi...classy shit.

They know how to do it right every time. That is, if by "it" you mean getting done fucked up right. Old skool stylie. They had a bit of a reunion in West Virginia this weekend (didn't you guys just meet up in Colorado this past November?) & had some fun. Oh, and were the digital cameras poppin'!

So, here yinz go...evidence that Bode isn't the only ski racer that gets plastered during race weekends.

Disclaimer:
Dear Penn State,
These photos are not real. They in no way accurately reflect the events of the weekend. These folks never even went to Penn State.
Love, Dice, Ag Sci '02

Drink Like a Champion Today

Dude, shouldn't you be getting ready for the Super Bowl?

Whatever, I'm just jealous that I wasn't invited to the party.

Go Big Ben! Lay off the sauce 'til Sunday night, though.

Love,
Mrs. Randle-El

P.S. This post has been amended by request (see comment to Bode Miller post) to include a shot of Jimmie (from the weekend in WV) wearing the same shirt as Big Ben. Coincidence? I think not. E-A-G-L-Nevermind.

GO STEELERS!

"Sometimes I Really Hate Pittsburgh Because I Love It So Much"

I saw this quote on a poster this past weekend & I just wanted to say to the author, "Brilliant!"

You have captured in a very precise, yet simple way, what I have been feeling inside for the last 10 years of my life. I don't want to leave my sweet Pittsburgh, but it doesn't seem to want me to stay that badly. I can't find a job doing what I want to do here. But, I am on a mission to make it work between da 'burgh & I. I'll just look harder to find a position as an enviro lawyer.

As far as giving credit where credit is due, I emailed the Partisan Project, headed up by Brett Yasko, for more info on this quote & the poster it rode into my brain on. This group also printed the posters from the 2004 election that you may have seen arahn tahn. One of my favorites (by Kyle Goen, of Brooklyn, NYC) follows.

Lookin' for Some Speed Stick?

One of the many highlights of Friday night went down during our pre-game at Mick McGwire's:

Scene: Our crew be sipping Guiness draughts & other assorted bevs at two tables in the front of the bar.

Two men approached the booth where Dan, Chris & I were sitting & began to empty the contents of their pockets onto our table. Contents = 5 Speed Sticks + 1 Lady Speed Stick = 6 sticks of deodorant. They inquired as to whether we would like to purchase some & we declined. Honestly, I was so effing perplexed for the first 30 seconds when the deodorant was being revealed that I kinda stared at these dudes with a look of total confusion. In retrospect, I really wish that I would have asked these gentlemen, "How much for the Lady Speed Stick?" Just to see how low would they go.

A. mazing.

Um, Steelerbaby?

I was informed of this interesting & cute, but kinda freaky website today...Steelerbaby.

Maybe I could crochet a Steelerbaby of my very own?

Maybe I'll use my blender to make Primanti's babyfood for dinner?

Maybe I'm just a tad confused about the whole thing.

Comments, anyone?


P.S. Credit to Mr. J. Bull for supplying the mind-boggling URL.

My New Personal Mantra

Big ups to Big Weave (my hip-hop aerobics drill-masta, to whom I owe a substantial explanatory post) for dropping this new track from Remy Ma. The second chorus of the song "Conceited" plainly states:

"See, I look too good to be fucking you..."

See I look too good to be fuckin you
And I look too good to be loving you
You know I look way too good to be stuck with you
I'm conceited I got a reason

Wow. That's quite a statement.

Not one I necessarily subscribe to, but...DAMN! You've certainly gotta respect this woman's high level of self-esteem!

Actually, at 8:30am, standing in the sardine-squished isle of the 54C, bus-packed-completely-to-the-gills - someone's touching my butt! typa-situation, this song will do wonders to brighten your day. Put it on your "Mornings Suck" playlist. Not to mention that it gives you a special kinda swagger as you walk to grab some coffee & a cig before you descend upon the Barco for the day.

Amen.

Die, Ashley Parker Angel, Die!

Are you ready for this? Seriously, you might want to get a garbage can & keep it handy as you read this post.

This Tiger Beat lookin' stud is Ashley Parker Angel. No, really. That's his legal name.

And unbeknownst to me, he was a member of the copycat mid-to-late-nineties boy band called "O-Town." And here's the thing: he's currently broke. Furthermore, MTV has decided to document his sad little post-stardom pussy-ass life in a show titled There & Back: Ashely Parker Angel.

"Formerly an O-Town member, Ashley Parker Angel, struggles to make it back to the top of the music industry in this heartwarming series about losing it all and second chances."

Heartwarming, my ass! More like completely infuriating! He claims to have only 22 dollars left in his bank account. He has also knocked up his girlfriend, Tiffany & is seriously prone to hissy fits. I could kill him. At least figuratively. I could take my Terrible Tahl & beat him with it...or maybe just take him into a local punk bar & introduce him to the regulars. Ahhh. So many options, really.

Seriously, dude, I haven't even been famous once (yet) & I have more money in my bank account than you. Most responsible people do. Why, oh why, must your story be broadcast over the airways? You never saw M.C. Hammer crying on his own sitcom after he went bankrupt. (Wait, was he on a season of The Surreal Life? Hmmmm.)

So there, I hope that you have not puked up too much of your dinner reading this.

Bra, I wish DOG The Bounty Hunter would just kick this dude's ass. K?

DOG The Bounty Hunter

Time to reveal a dirrrty little secret.

There's a certain TV show on A&E that I have fallen in love with: DOG The Bounty Hunter. Don't skip the musical intro, or you will miss the theme song which was composed & performed by Ozzy Osbourne.

This is the life of Duane "Dog" Chapman, proprietor of DaKine Bail Bonds on the island of Maui, Hawaii. This is a family enterprise, as his sons, brother & luscious wife, Beth, all work together to hunt down and "rehabilitate" convicts. Mostly, DOG does not care to revoke bonds, but if the co-signors are fed up with the criminal in question, it becomes "go time."

I can't quite explain why I love this show...the family values? Tough love? DOG's amazing hair & accessories (which include bicep bands & those dangly feather thingys for your hair that you used to win at carnivals & county fairs)? Sigh.

Another interesting aspect of the show is seeing the real Hawaii. These folks are straight-up from the island. My naiive exposure to images of the 50th state have always included leis, hula dancers & volcanos...maybe I'm a bit sheltered in terms of Hawaiian culture, but damn, there are some crazy folks living there (maybe even more than in P-Burgh...um, naaaah.)

All I know is that if I ever go to Hawaii & get arrested, I am definitely going to DaKine & procuring DOG's services. K, bra?

Correction No. 1

Danny pointed out that I misspelled a beneficiary's name in my Last Will & Testament.

"I did notice that you misspelled Gregolooch's name: "Ernesto Barbareri". That's not even phonetically correct, Dicer. It is spelled Barbieri ("Bar-Bee-Air-Eee")."

Thanks to my editorial staff for such a sharp eye.

Mr. Judas Bull, your portraits will be up soon...patience, my dear man. Te amo siempre.

You Wanted to Know: I Am Permissive

So, after reading about Throck's personality reincarnated as a FRCP, I have to admit I was curious. (Sorry Friday Random 10...I'm working up to you.) And as embarrassed as I felt answering the survey questions while wondering W.W.T.D. (What Would Throck Do?), I did it anyway.

The results?

YOU ARE RULE 20(a)!

You are Rule 20, an important part of the Federal Rules' policy of permissive joinder.

You are designed specifically to allow as many parties in an action as can be tried efficiently, and you'll include someone as long as there is some factual overlap between a claim involving them and the rest of the case at hand.

You are popular, out-going, and are never far from friends. However, your overly gregarious nature and magnanimous approach do make things a bit crowded--you're the reason that lawsuits are often cluttered with innumerable parties and even more numerous claims for relief. Still, despite the crowds that you attract, you can't argue with the efficiency of getting everything done at once!

Exxx-actly. Except for the whole popular thing. And my need for alone Dice-Time. Daily.

Victorious!

Five-Star Day, Courtesy of the Steelers

I know you know, but hey, "Pittsburgh's Goin' to Da Super Bowl"...and you also know that you sang that line with many friends and strangers at the top of your lungs last night. In the streets & in the bars. And it was FINALLY a fact! We've been singing abaht it for a freeking decade. And it became a fact last night, Super Bowl XL, a fact supported beyond a reasonable daht. Fuck. Yeah!

It's our first trip to the Super Bowl in 10 years. I remember that game, um Super Bowl XXX (Quick query, why do we get some of the coolest adjectives you could spell with Roman numerals each time we make it to the big game?) versus the eeevil Dallas Cowboys, with Neil O'Donnell at the helm. We lost. I was a junior at Upper St. Clair High School at the time.

Back to the current sweetness. Everything about yesterday rocked. From getting up & putting the (preliminary) finishing touches on my new Steelers scarf I've been crocheting to seeing Mayor Bob O'Connor at the blocked off intersection of E. Carson & 18th, hanging aht with the cops, having a blast.

Oh, and the game. The Steelers were so convincing with every play. We rocked the third-down conversions, changed up the passing game by relying on Cedric Wilson & scared the pants off of Fake Plummer. Did you see this man huffing oxygen in the 4th quarter?
Dude, you LIVE in Denver. Man up. Even the refs threw us a bone by overturning the Willie Parker "fumble." Leftover guilt from f-ing up last week? Maybe, but either way, we'll take it.

Following seven "SHOTS!!!!" & three IC Light pahnders, much victory dancing, hugging & singing at Jamie's haus, we took to the streets of the Soufside. As promised, the po-po were blocking E. Carson & getting into the celebration by high-fiving fans. Our aforementioned Mayor was sighted as we walked into the street & joined hundreds of other fans chanting & yelling in ecstacy outside of The Locker Room. After a bit, we rolled down to Tiki to meet up with friends who all had great stories to tell & a hearty appetite for alcohol. Just add more friendly faces, some dancing on the booths, singing along with the jukebox & stir. Everyone was in love with each other. Maybe it was just for the night. But it sure felt good.

The rest of the past 24 hours went dahn like this:
Went to bed at 5 am. Thanks guys.
Woke up at 7:45 am, still kinda drunk.
Rode 8:37 am 54C to Oakland.
Managed to get cash, pack of smokes, bagel & coffee all before 9 am.
Copyright Law, 9-9:50 am. While I was zoning aht/fantacizing about the Super Bowl, Madison points out that I am wearing a Bus jersey like the one in his slide...goes into policy argument as to why the photo should be protected. Selling jerseys, making moolah = incentive. OK, I'm paying attention now.
Enviro Litigation, 10-11:50 am. Oh yes, two hours of admin. procedure & the CWA. And I paid attention & asked 3 questions. Nice form, my good woman.
Celebratory hugs with Seesh, Andrew & Emily. Shit talking with the Speranz & Marc.
More feel good love.
Wendy's No. 2 Extra Value Menu...my favorite: Double burger, plain, no cheese. Fries & Coke, with a side of ranch dressing for dipping said burger & fries. An apt reward for such impressive punctuality & attendance today. While in line, a crazy, wasted man wearing a x-mas ornament dangly earring would not stop talking to me. He claimed that:
1. He was 18, but had a 41 year old daughter.
2. That he planned on drinking for two weeks solid...all the way to Detroit & the big game.
3. He was retired.
4. He was a Green Beret at one point in his life.
5. He won one million, two-hundred & eighty thousand U.S. dollars on the game yesterday.
6. He had asked every woman in Oakland to marry him.
7. Would I marry him?
And it was kinda funny, but he actually smelled more drunk than me. The line was long & when he finally got up to the counter, all he asked for was some ice for his water. Wow.

Lit a cig after the Wendy's gluttony & walked to the Atwood Bus Stop (Thanks, Bussy, we love you). Of course, the 59U came immediately. (Magic tip: Sick of waiting for a bus? Light a cig. Poof! The bus will come instantly.) It was raining, sure, but I really wanted to smoke that cig. So, I passed up the timely ride, smoked & people-watched. The 84A came a lil' while later & gave me a lift. So here I sit, home again, still in disbelief/in love with the fact that we are going to the Super Bowl, just as planned. For the Bus's (prolly) last game. Mama Bettis, we love you too.

Other notables/funny shit:

You've prolly already heard this, but we broke an NFL record for becoming the first number 6 seed to make it to the S.B. We knocked off the top three teams, on the road, in this order: 3-1-2.

Did you notice that the Broncos fans all had orange pom poms? Listen up, NFL teams:
You can't beat the Terrible Towel. Stop trying. Stop it. White (surrenderish) towels will not work, Indianapolis. Um, Denver, orange pom poms will also look extremely lame in the shadow of the visiting, but prevalent, Terrible Tahl. Please, please stop. Seattle, don't even think about it. You're on notice people.

Last night, a cop told T that she could do whatever she wanted, but just not set anything on fire. Please.

I attempted to make it onto the news on Carson St., behind some local news reporter, bouncing & screaming with about 20 other fans. The reporter & cameraman kept telling us to be quiet so that he could hear & report the "story"...we were too lahd. So, just when we had quieted dahn enough, another group of fans would spot the light on the camera & come running & screaming over. Then we would try to tell them to be "silent Steelers fans" & get the noise dahn again. Rinse & repeat, say four times. T said it best, "It was like moths to a flame." Eventually, some guy came running over to the poor reporter & just jumped on his head in inebrieated exuberation. Amazing. After about 5 minutes, I gave up & walked back to find T. Soon thereafter I received a text that I had, indeed, made it onto the news...as a flash of the Dice. Sweet.

Andrew, as previously noted by Throck, said that yesterday's game was better than voting. Um, yeah, dude. It was waaaaaaaay better than voting (& having the election stolen from us twice. Consecutively.) You get huge props for your amazing dedication these past weeks. I love it. I love it. But, one thing: WTF is up with you only having to follow the Stees for, like, 5 weeks before getting to see them in the S.B.? I mean, like I said, I haven't seen that shit since high school! Lucky bastard.

I need a nap. I have been running on straight adrenaline for over 24 hours & my body is about to quit on me, so I'm gonna lie my ass dahn. I'm sure that I'll have more musings to share...

I know that we can do this. The elusive "one for the thumb." For real, this time. I want to see what it feels like for the Steelers to win a S.B. I was just months old in 1979 when we won our last one. Although I love my parents' stories about those days, I want my own generation to have a chance at making our own victorious memories.

Thank you, Steelers. You did it.

Let's Do This Damn Thing!

Can't really blog right now...too nervous, too excited.

2 hours 'til kickoff. This is it. And I may have just convinced my pops to plan a family vacation to Detroit...that is, of course, if (um, when) the Steelers win today. Has the 'Burgh gone crazy? It's about to.

And, for the record, Throck-woman: put your school shit away. This is no time to be alone with law school work. It's time to be with your friends, making memories that will last forever.

I love you all...GO STEELERS!

Who Ride?

Dying for some post-Colts-thrashing locker room trash talk?

Look no further.

Just listen to "Peezy", the Bus & Coach Caher...chills, baby, chills.

"Who ride? We ride!"

Let's ride them Broncos all the way to Detroit.

At Least I Haven't Sent Them My Panties Yet

OK, OK, OK.

We all know that professional football playas are athletic, strong & (mostly) hot. I have been trying to explain this to my male friends for years: Sports are a win-win situation for us ladies. Not only do we get to experience the whole thrill of competition thing, we get some truly up-close views of some of the tightest bootys in the United States of America. Take football: bending over at the line of scrimmage...the camera tightens in on some ass. Another replay...more ass shots. Tackling = additional asses coming together in a celebration of some tight asses.

Now, baseball uniforms are a bit looser in their cut & well, hockey, um, you have to really wait until the locker room interviews to get a decent look at the goods. And, I'm sorry, but I have no real devotion to b-ball, except to say: Go Pitt & I will start paying attention in late February for the NCAA tourney.

Anyway, today the Post-Gazette printed a fluff article chronicling the ladies' love of the Stees that made me giggle & feel kinda funny. Hines Ward is a metrosexual? No, it's just that Orr's Jewelers rocks, man.

And, for the record, Antwaan R.E. has always been known as "my baby's daddy." (Note to reader: I have no kids; it's just an expression of eternal hope.) And I also swoon over the thought of Troy pledging his devotion to me.

Back to reality: Let's get away from this whole imaginary exercise & focus on killing the Broncos Sunday. Seriously. Go Steelers!

Forewarned is Forearmed?

Apparently, I might have to bring a sleeping bag to Jamie's for the AFC game...um, the Pittsburgh Police are threatening to shut dahn the Soufside if the Stees beat Denver. Who's gonna feed D-Dogg?

Yikes!

Otra vez, Go Steelers!

We've Been Served

Perusing the blogospere, sipping a nice glass of (um, iced-dahn) Shiraz, I vaguely listened to the WPXI Channel 11 evening news. All of a sudden, a hysterical John Fedko, the infamous hair-plugged "The Fedko Zone" sports newsman, began freaking out...live from Denver.

He spoke emphatically, pointing to a print copy of the Rocky Mountain News & calling out some journalist who is currently visiting the Burgh from Denver. Be warned, Bill Johnson: Fedko's got your number.

You may be wondering by now, what the hell was Fedko so pissed about? Well, in fact, he was super-mega-irate because this Bill Johnson character called the Burgh of Pitts "one butt ugly town" in an article titled, "Shot-and-beer Pittsburgh froths at mouth."

Fucking read it. Aside from the whole P-Burgh bashing angle, he actually captures some of the local flavor. But then quickly insults and/or retreats in awe of our hard-drinkin', Steeler-lovin' ways.

I have a hard time believing that a publication as respectable as the Roc-key Mahntin News would actually allow a journalist to use the phrase "butt ugly." My mind has been blown for the day.

Anyhoo, the Broncos are goin' dahn & picking on Pittsburgh will not change a damn thing about it.

Do I even have to say it? Go Steelers!

I Hereby Give, Devise & Bequeath...

This is a little extracurricular project that I have decided to undertake this semester. Yes, I am writing my will. Estates & Trusts has enticed me into determining what shit I do own & who should get it. It's not like I think I am going to die soon, or that this course has me thinking about death; I just think that I would like to work on devising my assets.

I guess that another impetus for this will-writing thing is the fact that neither of my parents have a will. And they both turn 60 this summer. And...wait for it...my dad's a lawyer. So, I am trying to set a good example, look death straight in the eye & give everyone a head's up.

Plus, it would be kinda funny if I did unexpectedly die & whether a will posted on a blog on the internet is binding would probably be an issue of first impression. Yea.

So, here goes:

*****************************************************
I, Diceburgh, of the city of Pittsburgh, County of Allegheny, and Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, do hereby declare this to be my Last Will & Testament, which will be supplemented periodically on my blog, http://www.hotpinkbutter.blogspot.com.

First, I hereby direct that all of my debts, funeral expenses & expenses of administration of my estate be paid out of my estate as soon as practicable after my death. Under no circumstances shall any portion of my viewing, funeral or wake be in any way asscoiated with the practices or beliefs of the Roman Catholic Church. For that matter, there shall be no religious association at these events whatsoever.

Second, I name & appoint my BFF, Timily Frazier McCloud, to be the executor of this Will. I further direct that she not be required to give bond or other security.

Third, I direct that my bodily remains be promptly cremated & scattered into the confluence of the Three Rivers at Point State Park, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Fourth, I give my most economically-valuable worldly possession, my 1998 Dodge Durango (aka "The Durangelo"), to my only sister, Nicole A. Stockey. To Nicole, I also give my snowboards in the hope that one day she will learn to ride in addition to being a great ski racer.

Fifth, I give my Australian Cattle Dog, Daisy, to my parents, William E. & Judith A. Stockey. They shall also take possession of all dog related accessories, such as toys, leashes, veterinarian documents, etc.

Sixth, I give my fish tanks, pet fish & all related accessories to my good friend, Kevin Scott Brown. To Kevin, I also give my "Pennsylvania" belt buckle, which he is very fond of.

Seventh, I give one-half of my collection of books to Timily F. McCloud. I give the other one-half to Ernesto Barbareri. These two beneficiaries shall meet to divide the books & if there is a dispute as to the equitable nature of the division, an outside appraiser shall be consulted.

Eighth, I give my iPod, Sony Vaio desktop computer & Dell Inspirion 5160 laptop to Timily F. McCloud. This includes all related hardware, such as my printer, speaker system & wireless router. I direct her to permanently delete all personal files on the two computers & use them as she sees fit.

Ninth, I give my Sony television, Play Station 2 (and related accessories) & VCR to Ryan J. Provil.

Tenth, I give my Kenmore sewing machine to Jennifer Verna Boyd.

Eleventh, I give my "Baby Jesu" statute to Daniel J. Vogel.

Twelveth, I give my Black's Law Dictionary & Bluebooks to Michael A. Byrne.

Thirteenth, I give all my board games to the Pittsburgh Boys & Girls Club.

Fourteenth, I give all bikes in my possession to Free Ride!, an Pittsburgh non-profit organization that recycles & repairs bicycles.

Fifteenth, I give my compact disc collection to my sister, Nicole A. Stockey.

Sixteenth, I give my camping gear, including my EMS 6-person tent, Sierra Designs sleeping bag and 2 camp chairs to Timily F. McCloud.

Seventeenth, I give all of my pirate & buccaneer costuming & accessories to Stephen J. Driscoll.

Eighteenth, I give my Nancy Grace autographed photo to Kelsey Walko.

Ninteenth, I give my Jerome Bettis autographed football to my father, William E. Stockey.

Twentieth, I give my gold muppet-like wig to Christopher Barrone to use exclusively for Pittsburgh sporting events.

Twenty-first, my furniture shall be divided among my immediate family members. If there remain pieces which no one desires, they shall be donated to The Salvation Army.

Twenty-second, my clothing & shoes shall be likewise divided among my friends & family. Remaining pieces shall be donated to The Salvation Army.

Twenty-third, I give my Oreck vacuum & Oreck "lil' buddy" canister vacuum to my mother, Judith A. Stockey. I also give to her my 4 Coach purses.

In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand & seal this 18th day of January, 2006.

/s/
Candace Ann Stockey
**********************************************************

OK, OK...I got bored. So, if anyone out there knows of something of mine that you want, lemme know so that I can supplement my will.

Peas aht.

"I'm not sure yet."

These four little words stopped me dead in my slipper-footed tracks last night. My first instinct was to say, "Hey, fuck it." Actually, I wanted to type the words "fuck it fuck it fuck it fuck it fuck it" ad nauseum until I felt better. Note my restraint.

But these words have helped me to "turn the corner" on something that I have been thinking about for a very long time. The problem is, of course, that I am quite sure of something. Or at least I am sure that I want to take a chance on something new. I want to risk it. I want to know if it could work or fail or kickass or evolve into a natural disaster. I am too old to just go about wondering what could happen. The suspense is killing me.

We Told You So!

Check it aht!

The NFL just issued a press release admitting that Ref Pete Morelli MADE A MISTAKE IN REVERSING THE POLUMALU INTERCEPTION! Son of a bitch!

Thank god we won the game, or else T & I would be filing a class action lawsuit against the NFL on behalf of the City of Pittsburgh for intentional infliction of emotional distress.

Wiiiiiiiiide Right!

Holy f-ing shitballs! The Steelers beat the Colts! And I almost had 3 heart attacks! And peed my pants! I hope you did too.

Yesterday's game was an insta-classic. Our black & gold underdogs coming out & dominating the first half like they were ready for some serious payback.

And then, in typical Steelers fashion, turning the game into a do-or-die situation. For those of you who haven't followed the Steelers for more than a few games or seasons, let me tell you that yesterday's game is (unfortunately) trademark Steelers playoff football. I can not tell you how many games have driven me to the edge of insanity & back over the years. And yet, I keep watching & screaming year after year.

Because when we do take out a Super Bowl favorite like the Colts, it is sooooo much sweeter. This town & this team deserved that win. The Bus deserved it. Polamalu & Big Ben, too. The Steelers Nation believed in this team & our beloved Stees proved us right.

I, along with many Steelers pals, watched the entire game outside on Jamie's back porch. We were LAHD. And cold. At one point, I realized that we were much colder than those lame-Os in the RCA Dome. But, then again, that's what makes us Stees fans so tough.

As far as some of the deficiencies of the game, I will briefly comment:

The officiating was not total crap. BUT, they missed a crucial pass interference call on a pass to Randle El & of course, the overturning of the Polamalu interception. If you break that play down into 3 parts, here's how I see it:
1. Polamalu caught the ball cleanly while diving sideways across the intended receiver. He then rolled on the ground (maintaining control) as the rules of physics took over for a sec.
2. He began to stand up & bumped the ball loose with his one knee while the other knee was still on the ground. (This is where the officials claimed that there is a rule that says that if the ball is knocked loose with one knee stilll down, then the player does not have control.) This would be a fumble.
3. Polamalu recovered his own fumble. So, WTF?

I eagerly awaited last night's SportsCenter so that I could have some light shed on this call. But, really, the commentators were just as confounded as I. Apparently, the only folks who know about this rule of possession/control are the refs.

Other notables:
Peyton was sacked 5 times, more than any other game this year. (He was sacked for a total of 17 times in the regular season.)

The Stees are the first number 6 seed to ever make it to the Conference Championship!

The Stees are the first number 6 seed to beat a number 1 seed in the playoffs.

Jamie thinks that Peyton was a victim of fetal alcohol syndrome.

The "noise" in the dome..."Can you hear me now?" "Fucking right!!!" Not a one penalty for a false start. But, the Colts had one. Ha!

Big Ben's Terrible Tackle will live down in black & gold history forever. So be glad you were a part of it.

The Colts gave out free white "towels" (which actually looked like dishrags) to all attendees. Again, where's the originality? We Stees fans buy ours at a retail price of 7 snaps each. And we bring'em everywhere we go.

Before the game, the Colts organization & related scalpers would not sell tickets to anyone with a 412 or 724 area code or any indicia of black & gold-ness. My friend Ronnie said that if he were there, he would overcome this problem by spending 10 bucks on a Colts hat, go up to a scalper & buy the tix, then whip off the hat, bring out the Terrible Tahl, unzip his coat to reveal his Porter jersey & yell, "Go Steelers, Sucka!" Trickery, mmmmm good!

My adrenaline levels were higher yesterday than any time in recent memory. So, today, I must recover by being very calm.

Vanderjagt's missed FG to tie it up was such a "Noonan!" moment that I feel like we might've actually helped that ball to soar so wide from all the way back here in the Soufside. And, I never knew much about that dude, but shit is he cocky. I'm sure that you heard his comment after the game that he never imagined that he would miss a field goal. The best version of this was on ESPN, where they showed the kick, they then showed Tony Dungy mouthing, "He missed it" in disbelief. And then Peyton, "He missed it" with a quirky, knowing smile. And then Bill Caher, "HE MISSED IT!!!!!" freaking out...and then finally, the Bus (on one knee, praying) "He missed IT!!" with a crescendo of amazment. And then, all was right with the world.

So, tomorrow, it's time to refocus, reload & repeat. The Broncos are goin' dahn next Sunday.

Everything is awesome! Thanks, guys!