Back in black

Got home last night. Went to bed. Slept 14 hours and woke up this morning.

To Do List:

Watch this week's Daily Shows

Find a job

Clean my car

Clean my room

... notice anything that's missing? Me neither. :)

Adventures in Tucson: Day 2

Guh.

The MBE was today.

And I started to feel sick - like, literally sick, not "making an excuse for failure in advance" sick, not "look-at-me-look-at-me-the-bar-is-so-hard-sick," but genuinely kind of nauseous - two hours into the morning session.

Went to Subway again with April. Diet Coke failed at settling my stomach - mwah??? My whole world just turned upside down.

Back at questionable hotel room (so grateful for hand sanitizer; so sad I didn't pack more), watching So You Think You Can Dance. It's pretty good ... but I wish I were (a) back in SLC, celebrating with all my other SJQ homies, or in the alternative, (b) watching something with plot, dialogue, or at least no screaming menopausal lady judge.

Oh no - oh nah nah nah nah. (Jessica Taylor, that one's for you.)

Ahem. The day wasn't over.

10:50 pm. Get in shower. Am assaulted by fire hose setting of shower head.

10:55 pm. Am reminded of why one should not wear contacts while showering in questionable hotel bathroom: You can see what's on the walls of said shower. Whimper.

10:55:30 pm. Try to remind myself that whoever left all those "special hairs" (as Chris would call them) on the walls of this shower at EYE LEVEL was at least probably having a very good time. So I salute you, Mr.-or-Ms.-Doesn't-Abide-By-Normal-Grooming-Standards.

10:56:00 pm. Finish washing shampoo out of hair and get the faaaaaaahck out of that shower.

10:57 pm. Grab folded towel off towel rack to wipe off my runny make up. Look at towel briefly. Think, "Huh. There's already mascara on this towel."

10:58 pm. Wonder what, exactly, the Hotel Arizona staff thinks those "Save our Planet - Reuse Towels!" post-its in the bathroom ought to mean. Throw all the towels on the floor, to be clear that I want BRAND NEW ONES tomorrow.

11:00 pm. NOW I'm going to bed.

Adventures in Tucson: Day 1

My adventure in Tucson technically started yesterday in Denver. 5:30 pm - flight delayed. 8:08 - flight finally arrives. 9:00 pm - flight takes off.

10:00 pm Pacific time, I arrive in Tucson. Hail a cab, get ride to hotel. Quickly realize the Hotel Arizona's lovely website pictures will not be representative of my stay. Get up to hotel room. Turn on air conditioner. Runs at about 107 decibels, which is about as loud as a snow mobile. Pull down sheets of bed. Too tired to freak out when I see bugs on sheets. Tear sheets off bed, lay towels down, try to go to sleep. Reflect with gratitude on Spring Break Trip 2009: Las Vegas.* Really decreased my standards for hotel rooms.

11:30 pm. Wake up to turn off air conditioner. Too loud, too cold.

12:45 am. Wake up to turn air conditioner back on, can't breathe.

2:00 am. Wake up. Can't remember definition of an express easement.

4:00 am. Wake up. Debate turning air conditioner off. Conclude that I'd rather have sleep.

5:00 am. Primary alarm goes off. Hit the snooze button.

5:20 am. Secondary alarm goes off. Soooooo grateful for secondary alarm. Wake up, brush teeth. Decide showering is over-rated. Start reading over real property notes. So that's an easement ...

6:00 am. Go down to hotel Starbucks for breakfast. Despite 50 thousand signs throughout hotel, Starbucks does not actually open at 6:00 am, but 7:00. Grumble a little. Go back up to room, consider finishing Swedish fish package for breakfast. Read more notes instead.

7:00 am. Go back down to Starbucks. Greatly angered when still not open. Wait around.

7:10 am. Buy Pop Tarts package and Zero Carb Rockstar.

7:15 am. Back in room. Pack up stuff. Mentally agonize over the possibilities of dropping my laptop on the way to the Convention Center.

7:20 am. Walk to Convention Center.

7:23 am. Arrive at Convention Center. Hotel Arizona may be gross, but it sure is convenient.

7:30 am. Meet April. Leave my notes in her car. Can't finish a Rockstar for the first time in my life. Leave that in her car too.

7:50 am. Check in. Girl at registration table can't find my name tag. Briefly consider throwing massive shit fit. Then I see it.

7:55 am. Set up laptop at what April and I think will be the least noisy table.

8:05 am. Two more people join our table. One is from Salt Lake City, but goes to U of A. I think this is a good sign.

8:06 am. Find out U of A guy has already failed the AZ Bar by 4 points. Want to banish him and his bad karma to another table.

8:07 am. Find out the AZ Bar only had a 60% pass rate last February. Feel kinda sick. Such a big difference between 60% and 70%.

8:10 am. Find out Secured Transactions WAS on the last bar exam! Start trying to remember the priority rules for secured creditors ...

8:15 am. See Wes Christensen in an Exam 4 shirt! Feel much better. Wave him over to our table. Tell him we have dibs on his help if anything goes wrong.

8:20 am. Non-laptop users can come register. Occurs that I now have to sit at my seat for 40 more minutes before exam can begin.

8:30 am. See Steve from work. He seems less stressed out than me, which would be a first. Am annoyed by that.

8:45 am. Instructions are read.

9:00 am. Exam begins.

12:00 pm. Submit electronically.

12:10 pm. Wait in line to turn in USB.

12:15 pm. Walk with April to Subway. Memories ...

1:20 pm. Return to Convention Center.

1:25 pm. More waiting ...

1:45 pm. Guy reads the same instructions.

2:00 pm. Open exam.

5:00 pm. Submit electronically.

5:10 pm. Turn in USB.

5:20 pm. Go back to hotel room, grab swimming suit.

5:30 pm. Go to April's hotel. Waaaaaaay nicer than mine. Go swimming.

7:20 pm. Go to In-and-Out. Mmmmmmm ....

10:45 pm. Go to bed.

* Subject for another day.

** Ahem. Did I edit this post out of terror of various bar exam rules I don't quite understand? Sure did ...

Slipped away? She didn't just slip away!!

When I study, I like to take movie breaks. Last night I watched Misery with James Caan and Kathy Bates. I loved that book, but I've never seen the movie.

When I got to the part where Annie (Kathy Bates) talks about life after her divorce -- "I thought I might go crazy ... night shifts can be lonely at a hospital ... that was when I first discovered Misery. She made me so happy. She made me forget all of my problems. I just kept reading them over and over." -- I couldn't help but think about the Twilight books.

And wonder if Stephenie Meyer has ever read or seen Misery.

And -- given that what happened to poor Paul Sheldon (James Caan) *cough cough foot amputation cough* -- wonder if that was why she was never willing to up the ante on her storylines and kill any of her characters.

Despite, you know, having them constantly battling armies of vampires.

Because I'd be scared of her fans, if I were her.

Intellectual Jell-O

I don't know what it is about corporate law. As much as I read over it - as much as I think, "I know this" while I'm studying - whenever I sit down to write an essay, I stare blankly at the page and think, "Incorpamawah?" Seriously, every damn time. Review RuthAnne knows at least an adequate amount on partnerships and agency and shareholder rights. Test RuthAnne knows jack-crap about anything. It's like all the knowledge I ever had on this subject (which admittedly, was never phenomenal) just oozes out my ears as soon as an open-ended question is asked.

Quote of the Day

"You know, I have to say ... it's really not that graphic."

- my brother, reading Watchmen

Ode to TV

Sorry I haven't written anything in awhile, but there's been nothing to say. I've been studying, studying, studying - with occasional TV breaks. Really, if not for TV, I think I'd be the Mayor of Crazytown right now.

Bless your heart, new episodes of The Bachelorette, Supernatural DVDs and Daily Show on Hulu. You guys are getting me through, even if it is getting a bit blended together. All I can say is, I hope Jillian picks Head Foreign Correspondent John Oliver, Sam successfully exorcises the demon out of Wes, Dean argues that his deal with the devil is void under the Statute of Frauds and Chris Harrison picks Castiel for the next Bachelor. That guy could really use a trip to the Fantasy Suite.

Ahem ...

Yes.  Definitely freaking out about the bar.

14 Days, 14 Subjects.  It can be done.  (I think ...)

To love is to burn, to be on fire! like Juliet or Guinevere or Eloise! (Or Kelsey.)

I love pop music, and pop music loves me.  It loves you too, baby, and you know how I know? 

Every song is about you.  Yes, you.

It may be difficult to believe, but the girls shrieking at a NKOTB concert, “Joey wants to be my boyfriend!” aren’t too far off the mark.  He does want to be your boyfriend—as do Donnie, Jordan, Jonathan and Danny.  How much clearer can “While the DJ play that single, single, just pretend that I’m your man tonight” get?  

And it’s not just commitment you can get out of music, but testaments to your physical beauty.  

“Man, that thing you got behind you is amazin’.”  Is that not the modern-day equivalent to “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”  We all know Shakespeare was an ass man. 

How can you miss the passion in a song that makes “crazy” an adverb?  “I been missing you crazy … Damn those sweet memories! …  Not only does your body bang, but I miss the conversation too … Where we used to park and did ‘all those things’….”

“All those things.”  Euphemism at its finest. 

 

Or the social commentary Cobra Starship—of Snakes on a Plane fame—provides when it describes a bar scene with the line “You were hanging in the corner with your five best friends” in “[I Make Them] Good Girls Go Bad.”  It’s true, we do travel in packs.  Kris, Hailey, Alli, Artemis, Shannon, Brittany, Jessica, April, Holly, Laura, et.al.—it may be time we end this co-dependence. 

 

And sure, someone should probably let Taylor Swift know how Romeo and Juliet really ends.  (Hey, she was on tour, and home schooling is hard!)  But can anyone think of a better break-up line than “It’s just too bad you’ve already had the best days of your life?”  And KELLIE PICKLER came up with that. 

 

Pop music.  The great equalizer.  

Little White

My brother Alpha raises chickens.  Two years ago, my dad gave him a bunch of chicks and a chicken coop for his birthday.  Since then, his flock has ranged in size from 3 - 17.

As of last week, Alpha was down to three roosters, one hen.  This is a problem not only because of significantly reduced egg production, but because roosters are a pain.  They fight, they crow all the time, they're just annoying.  And two years into the Great Chicken Experiment, my Uncle Dave finally mentioned to my parents that if you feed hens lay mash, you don't even need the roosters around for egg production.  Thus began the Great Get Rid Of The Roosters Debate between Alpha and my dad.

Anyway, my mom called down to Animal Control on Monday and found out that they had a chicken in need of a home.  "Hen or rooster?" she asked hesitantly.

"Definitely hen," came the emphatic reply.

So Alpha went down to Animal Control and adopted Little White.  She was named Little White for the obvious reasons (being that she's little, and white), all the other chickens are gold or black, and coincidentally, she joined the flock the same day SCOTUS decided Ricci.  (My dad and I started calling her "Whitey" for that very reason.)  

And all was well in the world.

Until yesterday.

When Little White crowed.

And then tried to get it on with the remaining hen.  

Roosters: 4; Hens: 1;  La Familia: 0.

Still got it :)

An African-American homeless dude hit on me - repeatedly - at the gas station today.  Ohhhh yeah.