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I've been pondering the Colts amid all of the hoopla that has been going on this week in anticipation of Sunday's game. And here's what I've come up with:
1. No serious NFL team has cheerleaders. See, e.g. The Steelers, The Packers, The Browns.
2. There is no legitimate reason for the Colts to play in a domed arena. Indiana is not really that different, climate-wise, from Pittsburgh. The only team that can rely on the whole "it's way too cold here thing" is the Minnesota Vikings. Football is meant to be played AHTSIDE. So, quit being such pussies & tear the roof off that muthafucka.
3. Yeah, Peyton is good, but it all too often seems to be a smoke & mirrors thing that simply confuses the opposition. And I guess if you want to win by confusing, rather than actually fairly playing the other team, then go right ahead. Thank the football gods that the rest of the NFL still subscribes to the whole play-by-the-rules version.
Wait, I've got a really good analogy. The Colts are like the attorneys who know the rules of law, but constantly look for the loopholes that will allow them to win their case.
Again, cool for lawyers. Super-lame for football.
4. Astroturf is soooooo 1980s. And bad for the knees.
5. Penn State called the colors blue & white in 1855. Try to be just a little bit original.
6. "If you ain't a Steelers fan, you ain't shit!"
Oh, and thanks for askin'...I'm feeling much better.
Jesus, Mary & Joseph!
My body temperature is finally normal. Thank Jezebel for Tylenol & other prescription drugs. I am happy. There's a bacterial war going on inside me & the good guys are finally winning a few battles.
Whooops. That really sad metaphor must be residual brainslop from the fever, or else I've done permanent damage. I'll have to wait & see.
Here are my body temps over the past 20 hours:
6pm - 101.2 F
8pm - 100.8 F
11pm - 99.1 F (looking good, right?)
2:30am - 103.8 F
This is the moment where I freaked. I was going to call a PCP this morn when I got up, but I was afraid that I had already fried/boiled the portion of my brain that holds the law school info. KB came over after finishing his shift & whisked me to the venerable SoufSide Hospital ER.
There, my temp was only 102.2 F, but I was diagnosed with strep throat. I am on penicillin (such a throw-back, old-school antibiotic) & Tylenol to keep my brain from additional sizzling. I usually balk at the thought of taking anitbiotics, as our collective overuse over the years has made them quite ineffective. But, I am a desperate woman who would like to sleep more than three hours at a time & not wake up feeling as though I have pissed the bed (with sweat, of course).
So, today I ventured out of the house for the first time in two point five days (excepting the ER visit) to fill my 'script & get some commercial fluids other than water. It is such a beautiful day! And I am so sick. Gawd. Anyway, as grumpy as I am after four days of sweating, everyone in the outside world seemed like an asshole. A 20-year-old driving a Lexis parking in the handicap spot at CoGos. Cars running the light at the Birmingham Bridge...almost hitting pedestrians. And the dude in line behind me at CoGos. I was trying to buy 2 blue Powerades, 2 OJs, 1 Swanson's Turkey Pot Pie & some smokes (bad for me, I know). So, I have all my shit on the counter & am paying & this dude has to get all up in my personal space to place his 1 pint of box tea on the counter. It's not like he had his hands full. He didn't say "excuse me." And he was waaay to close for comfort, especially since the person who's been in closest contact with me over the sickness was Dr. John Kim, ER doc. I've been monitoring my contact with others in a effort to be considerate. So, I almost licked his iced tea. Tainted it forver with my bacterial infection. This makes me a bioterrorist, doesn't it? (Ha, DOJ & you lousy "sources of intelligence", thought you were goin' to get a serious lead off this post, didn'tcha?)
Be warned. For the next 24 hours, I have a strong bacterial weapon in my command. If you cross me, I will lick you where it counts. And you will be the one stuck at home, miserable & blogging about it.
Roar.
Just a quick "Thanks" to my pal Jack. He provides excellent company, time & again.
Now, go to class!
An update on the sickness:
I have sweat-soaked 3 "outfits" (read: T-shirt, hoodie, PJ pants & undies) since I fell sick Monday evening. I can't break my fever. I am sooooo cold & sweaty at the same time. I can't stop my hands from shaking. My right lymph nodes are golf-ball sized; the ones on the left are only gumball-sized. Perhaps things will improve by tomorrow?
To further infuriate me, this is how today has proceeded: I woke up at 8am & showered to remove the layers of sweat that have accumulated since my last bath Tuesday eve. I quickly realized that there was no reason to try to go to Copyright Law in such a miserable state. So, I laid down on the couch & waited for the pre-scheduled electricians to come over & install/fix my smoke detectors.
(Backstory: The house I live in was sold in September to some richie-rich who is from P-Burgh, but lives in Manhattan. He has implemented some decent changes, such as paving our gravel parking lot & the smoke detector thing, but now is embarking on some additional changes which I find greedy & retarded.)
So, first I had to lock D-Dogg in the small bathroom b/c there are only three rooms in my loft-style apartment & they needed to get into the main area & the bedroom. And as previosuly noted on this blog, she would eat their pants off. Next, I fell into a kinda dozing state whilst I listened to the workers installing the detectors downstairs. Around noon, they were ready for me. It actually wasn't so bad; it took them about an hour & 1/2 to complete the job. Plus, I'm a bit safer now. And, since the lady that lives below me lights over 20 candles a day, I guess we're all really much safer.
OK, here's where I start to cry. The masons (not The Masons) who paved the lot stopped by last night to measure the super-freaking-scary-I won't go down there alone-basement so that they could pour concrete. I have some things stored down there on the dirt floors in the moldly atmosphere & wondered why they were going to give it a real floor. They told me that they planned to renovate it into a 4th apartment! Jesus, it has no windows! And I call it "The Silence of the Lambs Basement." This is truly ridiculous. But it gets worse.
OK, so another apartment; I'll have to finally move my stuff, which ought to be awesome. The mason (who is really, really cute & has the same face as my first serious high school boyfriend) told me that he would be ripping out the old, f-ed up brick sidewalk in front of the house today. That sounds good to me b/c I'm the one who shovels & salts & the uneven nature of the bricks makes it quite a tough job. So, as the electricians are finishing up, I begin to hear bricks hit the inside of a dump truck. The mason had arrived. So, I quickly ran downstairs to try to save my last bit of country in this city: my brick flowerbed.
I pleaded with him. I live for gardening (well, & boating) in the summer! But, he told me that since it was ajacent to the house, it would bring moisture to the basement. Ha! Another reason why no one should live in that rat-infested shithole basement.
So, I lost. No more flowers. All I have left is my three little planters for herbs on the side of the house. God-damn. Just then, T called & I started tearing up on the phone. I really don't know what to do. Gardening in all of its glory made me feel great. Now, fifteen minutes of planting will be all that I am left with. I really have to get outta here.
In response to Andrew's tagging, here goes:
3 Things That Very Few People Know About Me:
1. (Sorry to steal the topic): My first CD was Janet Jackson, Rhythm Nation 1814. Um, it's in my iPod to this day.
2. I must have ice in my red wine. This is completely gouche, but so am I.
3. I love the smell of BO. There, I said it.
I can still hear the bricks being ripped from their homes in the ground. This house is over 100 years old. I wonder if the bricking is too?
RIP flowerbed of mine. Thanks for 3 solid years of beauty.
I would like to personally thank Kimo von Oelhoffen for tearing Carson Palmer's ACL! It was the start of some serious pahnding, let ME tell YOU. Then we took out Chris Henry & a couple other Ben-gals, just for good measure. Now the first half was not quite what we were looking for; Jamie definitely yelled "douchebag!" more times in the first half than the second.The highlight of the game was obviously the gadget play that involved Big Ben, Antwaan Randle El, Big Ben (again) & Cedrick Wilson for the TD!! If you have not seen it yet, (& shame on you if you didn't watch the game), check aht SportsCenter tonight & get right with the Stees! Now, the awful news is that we must face the Colts next Sunday. Peyton Manning. This will be the game of the year. Another tough one. I am already nervous, but if the Stees are on, they can beat 'em. My approach would to be to tear Peyton's ACL in the first quarter. That would be a bit dirty, but effective.To wrap up the rest of the wildcard weekend, let me just say that:1. The 'Skins v. Bucs was more interesting than I thought it would be. Very good defensive matchup. Watching Jon Gruden freak out is actually scarier than Caher's chin. 2. I was very disappointed in the Jaguars v. Pats game. As you might guess, I HATE the Patriots, Tom Brady (well, those commercials are kinda funny where he asks for the grocery store worker's autograph on a melon), & Belichick. But poor little Byron Leftwich & his f-ed up ankle couldn't do shit. And the Jags' unis left something to be desired, fashion-wise.3. The "holy shit!" game of the weekend goes to the Carolina Panthers! I wanted them to kill Eli Manning & his Giants, but WOW, they really just had to scare him into throwing innumerable interceptions. If I were a Giants fan, today would suck. And tomorrow. And every day until the embarassment wears off. 4. The Steelers v. Bungles has already been discussed, but I am glad that I watched it with the "crew." What I drank from 4:30pm-9:30pm: 5 shots to celebrate our scores; 1 rally shot (which really worked); 1 victory shot; 3 IC Light pahnders; 1 Molson XXX bottle; 2 IC Light aluminum bottles. And then I slept.School started today. And I made it on-time to my 9am Copyright Law class. 3 cheers for punctuality! Feeling a little bit shakey, I also made it through an abbreviated Enviro. Litigation class. I. Am. Victorious!But the rest of the day has CRAWLED! The time is going by soooo slowly & I am just waiting for Wild Bill to go book shopping with. I mean, why else would I be blogging at the Barco? When will 3pm arrive? Aaagggghhh!Peas aht.
For those of you who have never had the pleasure of meeting the D-Dogg, here she is boating on the Allegheny River this past summer. Don't let the smile fool you; she will eat your pants right off your butt. Seriously.
Daisy is an Australian Cattle Dog who loves to kill sticks, tennis balls & frisbees. She was born on a farm known as "Noah's Landing" in Aaronsburg, PA in 1999. Although I found Daiz as a result of some pretty tragic shit, namely, my Beagle getting hit by a train whilst being dog-sat, she is a great compadre. Except for the pants-eating thing.
Great moments in Daisy's life:
Visiting 30-odd states (& some Canadian provinces) on her way to Alaska & back during the summer of 2000.
Living in a tent in Chugach State Park in Anchorage, AK for 6 weeks (with me).
Took on a moose & lived.
Went back-country skiing in Wyoming on New Year's Day 2001 & got bloodied by some ski edges...a few stitches later, she was feeling fine.
Took on a porcupine & lived. With 27 quills in her snout. On election day 2000. Really.
Various "Dogg Parties" at the S.S. Cooter over 3 years.
Going overboard on Kels' boat...by accident. Again & again.
Refusing to learn how to swim. Ever.
Biting everyone's ankles.
Being the best Dice-guard there could ever be.
Hope that you now understand the dog behind the fur.
Jack Osbourne : sport climbing :: peanut butter : dog poo
That's what I would've thought before midnight last night.
I was getting ready to turn in after a few glasses of wine, but as I channel surfed, I came across a show called "Jack Osbourne - Adrenaline Junkie" on the Travel Channel. Apparently, Jack quit poppin' Oxys, shed 70 pounds & took up climbing! I watched 3 back-to-back episodes, which culminated in his 6-day ascent of El Capitan, one of the most revered big walls in the world. It was awesome watching him lead pitches that I could only wish that I could climb...
It really made me remember all the fun, frustration & triumph that goes along with that sport. Maybe if I quit law school now, I could have the time to follow my dreams of becoming a professional snowboarder or climber. Let's not ponder such factors as lack of funds or suitable location or aging body...
Anyhoo, fucking congrats, Jackie. You did it!
For the record, today I ate lunner (that's not a typo) at Long John Silvers. I have been craving LJS in a pregnant-lady-craving sorta way for at least a week & today, as I was in Monroeville, I finally satisfied my urge.
A few things to note about me & LJS:
1. I do not eat seafood.
2. I refuse to eat at LJS more than once/year. No exceptions.
3. Each thing tastes exactly like everything else. The only way you can tell each item apart is by the internal texture of the food.
4. I love to ring the Captain's bell as I leave, signaling to the crew that it was a job well done.
5. In the classic story Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson (written in the late 1800s), the ship's cook was named Long John Silver. Coincidence? I think not.
Anyway, here is what went into my belly:
3 chicken planks
approx. 25 french fries
8 hushpuppies
approx. 20 ounces of Coca-Cola
Fucking delish. 365 days til we meet again. Sigh.
The whole Sago Mine tragedy really gets my goat. In a few ways, really. First of all, the media should leave these folks alone. It's been four days now & I'll admit, I can't get enough of the story, but if there is no more coverage of it, then my addiction must end. Instead, I sit on the couch & flip from one channel to the next whenever the story changes from Sago to Ariel Sharon's stroke or Alito's ABA butt-kissing.
The other thing about constantly interviewing a miner's brother-in-law's second cousin (or some other such relation): these flashy reporters know that these folk are not the most well-spoken folk around. And the complete lack of subject-verb agreement that goes along with their dialect is underlined as they pour their hearts out on national network news. Simply put, they end up sounding quite uneducated. Do not misunderstand me; I do not think that they are dumb. I think that they are rural. I am familiar with rural. I like rural. But, I am afraid that the rest of the country might think that they are bumpkins.
Secondly, in my position at the Enviro Law Clinic this summer, I helped out on a longwall mining permit appeal-type thing. Of course, we dealt with the PA DEP...and the DEP has a special office in "Coal Center, PA." Actually, it's close to California, PA, where my mom went to Cal U (aka "Harvard on the Mon"). Reviewing the safety records of a certain mine that was to be expanded (and not mentioning my most hated coal company in the country, which coincidentally has its headquarters in the township in which I graduated from high school), I realized that having hundreds & even thousands of DEP safety violations does not prevent a company from receiving permission from the Commonwealth to expand mining operations. And make millions of dollars.
No matter that this type of mining fucks everything up: subsidence causes homes to crumble & crack, streams disappear underground, loss of habitat for wildlife & aquatic organisms, acid mine drainage turns waterways neon orange, millions of tons of waste coal are piled on the surface, which in turn causes more AMD, noise from drilling, heavy vehicle traffic, etc.
So, what I'm saying is, not only do these folk place their lives in danger by mining coal, their lives are adversely impacted by all of the secondary effects of mining. It truly sucks. And the DEP is rather (in my humble opinion) lenient about issuing permits for mining. Jesus.
The WV version of the DEP can't be much different, as WV leads the nation in coal production. Fuck. At least the Sago mine was block-and-pillar mining.
Next on the list: Tuesday evening, I was watching one of the many press conferences held by ICG's President, Ben Hatfield, as he described progress on the rescue mission. And after about five minutes of rather somber news, a cell phone went off. Really, really loudly.
At first, I just thought that the cell phone was ringing on one channel. But, as I flipped around, Fox News, MSNBC, CNN, CNN Headline, WPXI, KDKA, etc...the ring continued to blare over the speech. What ring was it you ask? What ring could be more inappropriate at this particular moment? Ahem, the theme from G-D Sex in the City. God, it was so fucking loud. And the reporter who owned it did not even try to shut it off! A-mah-zing!
Inappropriado.
More on Sago: Last night I was watching my hero, Nancy Grace, take on the mining story. She did it with class, as usual. Then, she brought up the Quecreek Mine rescue from the summer of 2002 and its legal fallout. She called upon the miners' lawyer to answer a few quick questions about similarities & differences between the two incidents. It took me about 20 seconds to recoginize this man. I picked up the Pittsbughese immediately, but had to rack my brain to figure out how I knew him.
It was Howard Messer, my Trial Ad professor from last Spring! On Nancy Grace! Fuck yeah!
I felt so close to Nancy at that moment...
Onto something a little less tragic: The Stees! Wildcard weekend. I hope to be nuzzled on my couch & ready to watch four, yes, four complete playoff games this weekend. I love playoff football! It is so nerve-wracking to watch, though. The Stees v. Bungles. 4:30pm Sunday, January 8th, 2006. Do not miss it. We are ready for some serious payback. The Bungles always sucked. Since they won our division, they think they're hot shit. Rude awakening, here you come!
Lastly, I had a great time Tuesday night at a new Soufside bar, The Locker Room. This bar has gained popularity due to Hines Ward's bartending and general presence. He was not there on Tuesday, though. Nonetheless, Stanley & I (Penn Staters, both), enjoyed the five-hour, FSU-tromping, Penn State victory at the Orange Bowl there. One drawback was that our cute little blonde bartender went to FSU & I kept yelling out "Florida State Criminals!", which she did not appreciate. But, aside from one Pitt fan who rooted for FSU, the bar was packed with Staters. Cheers of "We are" - "Penn State" rang out lahd & prahd. It was a blast. Then, I got home & realized that I pulled a muscle in my back from giving too many drunken & ecstatic high-fives. Oh well, at least I didn't bust my ACL.
Go Steelers!!
I just wanted to get this out there because I know that Pitt Law will do little to inform its beloved students of such news: My favorite Crim Pro Professor, Welsh S. White, died yesterday. I really can't believe it. I loved that guy soooo much.
Do you remember when he would pretend to be drunk to show us how certain types of pocket-pickers would prey on the intoxicated? Or when we talked about that entrapment case where the defendant was accused of ordering kiddie porn? Or Crim Pro II with Wes & his Wessisms? Gawd...I will miss him. I guess the whole Evidence disaster finally has some way-too-real closure.
His obit can be found at:
http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/06001/631066.stm
RIP, dear Welshie.
It's finally here: the year of my law school graduation. This phenomenon always freaks me aht...when you start a new degree, they assign you this seemingly arbitrary futuristic title. Class of 1997. Class of 2002. Class of 2006. And semester after semester, this year seems so far, far away.
Then one night, you are hanging aht...
and BAM - 2006!
When the mysterious graduation year sneaks up on me it I want to celebrate the fact that I survived this far. But it also saddens me because the sily, crazy, stressed-out, laughin'-so-hard-I-nearly-pissed-my-pants...wait-I-DID! trip is almost over. The Class of 2006 will get its time to bask in the glory for a few days (specifically, May 27, 2006), but then it's back to the grindstone. The bar. Yea.
This correlates to how after the new year, everyone dates their checks and notes wrong. Our minds, fingers and souls seem to reject the unknown of the new four-digit demarcation at the end of the date. (That is, except for you savvy laptop Mircosoft Word note-takers, who don't even have to know what date it is because your computer's got your back.) So, what I'm saying is that New Year's always alerts me to the fact that I will need more Wite Out to fix my mistakes.
So, whatever yinz are doing for this ridiculous calendar holiday, I hope that you do it safely so that you can be around to see us rock 2006.
Love to all,
Dice
During the fourth quarter of Saturdee's Steelers - Brahns game, a fan ran aht onto da field an got a fanwich from James Harrison. Please note: This was not shown on TV even though the announcers were howling as they watched it. They claimed that network policy prevented them from showing it because they did not want to encourage others to follow suit. It was shown on the local news last night. P.S. The Steelers won, 41-0.Merry Christmas.
I forgot to tell yinz about the best SNL skit I have seen in years...Home alone last Saturday night (exam-time, people), I watched to see what Jack Black (my hero) would do as the host of SNL...I was kinda disappointed in his work, but then a two-minute short came on the screen & it fucking rocked! Laffin aht lahd, biiiaaches.
So, if you haven't already been forced to watch this (& even if you have, you know you wanna watch it again), check out the video for "Lazy Sunday"...
http://www.youtube.com/watch.php?v=zLElfJ9YCh0You won't regret it. And you will thank me.
OK, I know, I haven't been keeping up with the Joneses (in blogging, that is). And certainly, this isn't the first time in my short blogging career that I have neglected my Butter duties, but please forgive. Seriously, I just studied for 18 days straight, took 5 exams, shopped for over 20 people & still was able to force smiles for 30 hours over the holiday events. But, I digress with my self-rationalizations...
Let's begin at the beginning. Two Sundays ago, I was in the middle of editing my 8-page, 48-hour take home exam (Legislation, suckas) when I planned to take a 3-hour break to watch the Stees beat the Bears. A half-hour before the game began, I stopped editing my exam & began blogging. About three paragraphs in, I dumped a half cup of pumpkin spice coffee on my laptop. Yes, the laptop in which my Legislation exam lived.
Holy fucking shit!
And I fried my barely-one-year-old Dell Inspirion 5160. Truly sizzled the fucker.
The (X-mas?) miracle of the situation was that I had, five minutes earlier, printed out a draft of my exam to measure the fucking margins. I was a half-page over the limit & Taylor is all about following directions/specifications to a T...or else. So, it was ruler & margin-fudging time. Obviously, someone/thing was watching over me; or, then again, wait, I don't believe in that shit...it was fate, right? Alas, I had a hard copy from which to retype my answer after the Steelers game. A-mah-zing.
Next exam disaster: fast-forward to Tuesday, 4pm, after my breezy & relaxing Spanish (make-up) exam. Hemingway's, dollar pints (Molson, yuck), nufff said. Since many of my friends had just finished their last exam & all I had left was a 24-hour take home Ethics - sorry, "Legal Profession" - exam, I was ready to drink in earnest.
Just one shot of Cuervo and about five to seven pints later, I was drunk. And, do I have to mention that I hadn't eaten anything that day except a Pamela's breakfast (around 11am)? That's kinda implied. Anyway, I ambled to the bus stop around 9pm & rode the 54C home to meet two friends for our weekly viewing of Nip/Tuck...OK, I have to back up a bit. I had forgotten in my stupor/exam chaos that the TWO HOUR SEASON FINALE of Nip/Tuck was that night. That is, until I listened to a voicemail from Danny Boy while at the bar. So, back to the story: I got home, Dan & Stan came over & we began to watch this fucking great episode. Being as drunk and hungry as I was, I couldn't handle the graphic nature of the show without puking, so around 10:30pm (1/2 hour into the show), I told them that I had to eat or pass out immediately. And I opted to pass out. Being respectable house guests, Dan & Stan finished watching the episode & let themselves out. BTdubs, I got to watch the rerun of the finale Friday night...transgender genital mutilation and the Carver revealed - N/T never disappoints.
The next morning, I woke up around 9am & felt like death. Not the archetypal hangover headachey thing; this was feverish chills coupled with nausea, a racing heart beat and dizziness. I was a complete wreck. I knew that I had to eat ASAP, but the thought of any kind of food just made me iller (sweet word, right?). I tried to feed Daisy around 10am & it was nearly impossible to get dog food & water into her bowl without passing out. Then, I puked up a bunch of stomach bile. Ahhhhh, the beauty of the morning-after puke. Did I mention that I had to get to Oakland before noon to pick up my Ethics take-home? Right. The 54C was eliminated as an option. I was in no way going to stand at a bus stop today. Even driving seemed like a bad idea; I was not concerned about finding a parking spot, I just felt too sick to do it. So, around 11am, I called the two people that I knew always have my back: Timmers & KB. Messages were left & I went back to "sleep." T called me back 15 minutes later & came through with flying fucking colors, ribbons & sparkles.
Timily is the BEST.
She went to the Barco, got my exam (not without an attempt at some ill-advised trickery & a call from the Registrar herself) & picked up provisions from Pantera. She came over & got me to a state where I could sit up & have a conversation. After she left, I forced down the bagel & OJ & took my first shower in five days. And, yes, then I took the Ethics exam for the next ten hours.
Painful? A little. Boring? You could say that. Annoying? Fucking right. I was completely out of gas, brain-wise. I would type sentences like, "Depending on the type of information that A is interested in relaying, a noisy withdrawal may work or not." Come on. I know that I can express my thoughts in a better sentence than that. But, by 8pm on December 21st, I really couldn't.
So, it's over. 5 down, 1 to go, semester-wise. That's another thing. While studying for exams this December, I realized that I would never have to try to juggle X-mas duties & law school exams ever again. Like, this time next year, I will be a working (knock on fucking wood) attorney. Christ.
Right now, I am decompresing from the whole X-mas thing. I got some sweet presents; thanks Santa (read: Mom & Dad). One gift worth mentioning was from my sis. She was just in Beaver Creek, CO for the Birds of Prey downhill & grabbed me up some souvies. She bought me a hunter green T-shirt that has a beaver on it & sayz, "Save a tree, Eat a beaver."
OK, I am a hippie, tree-hugging enviro. We all know that. But, Nikki, I am not a lesbian. I believe that this shirt is geared toward straight males or lesbians or anyone who is typically interested in eating pussy & proudly announcing it via fashion. I really like it but fear that it will send the wrong message. Please advise.
I have more to say, but I have the next two & one-half weeks to catch yinz all up on the Dice. Peas aht. And thanks for the gifts, y'all.
Ahoy, matie.
In response to the recent Evidence exam fallout, I would like to state my position. First, I know that this whole situation is the result of some sad shit, namely, cancer & Katrina. That said, I believe that we all (meaning law students) wanted to get as good of an understanding of the Federal Rules of Evidence as possible before we are in some job & our boss asks us to draft a motion to supress or exclude. And we respond by looking completely confused.
But, alas, White became very ill & Katrina screwed Newalins. Thus, we were faced with a new professor who kept comparing us to his Tulane students & bitching about the cold weather in P-Burgh. Well, all I can say right now is that the snow that falls here might have some pollutants in it & further, snow only falls when it is colder than 0 degrees Centigrade, but we are not conducting classes in a building that has been submerged in toxic, human & animal wastes. So, let's move on.
The exam. It was tricky. And I kinda like tricky, even when I get the answers wrong. It shows that the Prof. put some effort into the exam. Now, there were some tricky questions on it, including the repetition of multiple choice answers such as: a) it is hearsay, but falls within the exclusion for party admissions; and b) it is non-hearsay, as it is a party admission. See, this is OK. He wanted us to understand that party admissions, by their defintion, fall under 801(d) and are non-hearsay. But, questions where the fact pattern relates the actions of three people (e.g. Tom, Dick & Harry) and the call of the question asks whether Charlie's testimony will be admissible ARE INEXCUSABLE. Pig slop. Crap. Totally unacceptable law professor work product. So, that's what I think.
Should we complain to the Admin.? Maybe, but just to the extent of bringing it to their attention, not to substantively change the way the exam will be graded or curved. We all got fucked. Together. As a group.
Happy finals, biiaaches.
Well, well, well. It's really happening. The Steelers QB situation is a disater. Where the fuck is Brian St. Pierre? Flirting in the Parisian riots? Fucking seriously, we need someone to step it up besides little old Tommy Gun. BIG Ben is aht until the HUGE Monday night game v. the invincible Colts, complete with Manning sauce all over it. T.Gun is simply petrified to play QB...I can see it, the announcers can see it, and I am convinced that every defense in the league knows it. Granted, that sad day three years ago when he was temporarily paralyzed was extremely frightening, but if you are getting a phatty paycheck to be the No. 2 QB for a crazyass NFL team, then do it with confidence.
Or else you are just going to be raking up more garbage from your lawn along with the dead leaves.
Personally, I do not have the time nor gas money to go to TG's house & fuck up his curb appeal, but Stees fans collectively do. You've been served, dude.
So, here I sit impatiently awaiting for halftime of the Stees/Brahns game to end so that I can witness more of this delicious smashmouth rivalry in action. Meanwhile, I think that it is important to add that I am doing so quietly and alone (Daisy Dogg is here, of course). This is very unusual, but I am finding it to be theraputic tonight. My typical schtick is to be around the Steelers "crew", drink I.C. Light to excess and down shots of red-headed sluts to celebrate each and every Stees score. It is really a brutal weekly tradition. Especially during late-night games, such as tonight's. Oh, one more thing about tonight's game. It's on ESPN and the intro that came on at 8:30 was a rap/opera to the tune of that "Lean Back" song that was popular this summer. One of the lyrics went like this, "Oh, no, it's gonna go down; Pittsburgh Steelers against the Cleveland Browns." Down rhymes with Browns...How fucking creative can you get?
But, as this weekend was pretty low-key altogether, it seems appropriate to fly solo tonight. First off, PSU had a bye week. This in no way detracts from our No. 5 BCS rating, but it simply delays the inevitable trouncing of Michigan State next Saturday, clinching the Big Ten & generally rocking the BCS. JoePa for PA Supreme Court Justice (Justice Nigro, I sure voted to keep your ass in black robes).
A great shaht aht to T-dizza for her wonderful company at the Handmade Arcade Saturday evening (hipster craft show in Point Breeze). Oh, BTW, thanks Kels for the idea. Good times had by all.
I NOW INTERRUPT THIS BLOGGING TO INFORM YINZ THAT THE SECOND HALF HAS BEGUN AND...CHARLIE BATCH HAS A BROKEN HAND!!! He actually broke his hand before he squeezed into the end zone for the last second TD. What a warrior.
MADDOX IS IN.
I've got to go...damage control time. Holy shit.
When I was a wee 1L on my second day of Pitt Law orientation, a 2L bequeathed to me an amazingly important piece of advice. As a matter of fact, it may have been the most crucial piece of advice that I have ever been fortunate enough to receive.
And the very, very few times that I have violated this rule, I have always felt like a complete assmunch. So, Pete Smith (St. Louise de Marillac 8th grade class of 1993 & Peters Twp. H.S. class of 1997), wherever you are, thank you for passing along the Golden Rule of Law School.
The Golden Rule of Law School is: don’t fuck/hook up/make out with other law students.
The only exception is if you believe that your insalubriousness will result in a long-term thing/marriage.
It may sound matronly, but it is tried and true. At first, I thought that this was a ridiculous suggestion. But, as time has passed, I have seen how this rule has prevented many awkward situations. Not unlike today.
The Second Rule of Law School is: keep drinking and it’ll all be over soon. (That's my own personal advice.)
