There was some sort of gay softball event at the Minneapolis Eagle. The Eagle was so packed that moving around felt like diving in an over-cologned mosh pit, so Zach, Matt and I stayed in the video bar where it was safe.
Roby was also at the Eagle that night playing paparazzi. Here are some of his shots:
She’s from finals, but I forgot to post the picture here:
It’s 1am. Phillip and I are in the car, zipping around downtown Minneapolis. I ramble: “…tomorrow I will go out less, crack down, stay home and focus. From now on. Seriously.”
Phillip lets me ramble, but doesn’t believe it.
This was another cluttered week of work, exercise, dating, and reconnecting with long-neglected friends. Pictures!
Morbid obesity came around this morning.
Morbid Obesity: “Knock, knock!”
Me: “Who is it?”
Morbid Obesity: “Morbid obesity is a-knocking.”
Me: “I AM NOT HOME!”
Morbid Obesity: “Oh the hell you aren’t! I can hear them jelly rolls jiggling behind the curtains! Precious!”
Me: “Fine. But you are out of my life. Love don’t live here no more!”
Morbid Obesity: “That’s not what your bellah told me.”
Me: “I am working on it!”
Morbid Obesity: “Oh the hell you are! Between the record-breaking heat and the rain, you haven’t done cardio in FOUR DAYS!”
Me: “Today is the day!”
Morbid Obesity: “…for muffin top!”
Me: “GET OFF MY PROPERTY! I AM CALLING THE COPS!”
So to spite morbid obesity, I skated 12 miles around the lakes after work today. Thelakes are fabulous . There were the usual picnickers, swimmers, cute babies, studs, and concerts…
I look outside, it looks like rain, but I want to walk the dogs around lake Calhoun, so I check weather.com.
Weather.com says 0% chance of rain.
I look outside again. It looks like the storm before the kraken, but weather.com says 0% chance of rain so I TRUST THE INTERNETS and drive the dogs to the lake. If weather.com had said 1% chance of rain I would not have gone out, but ZERO percent chance…well…I can’t question that!
The skies look so bad on the way to the lake that I expect Nicolas Cage to hop out of a building and give a dead-pan account of how “supernatural whatsits were coming to take over the who-hah…” And of course, the second we get to the lake:
Fail.
I check weather.com on my blackberry. It says 75% chance of rain, plague, and pestilence. I feel like an idiot.
And then Harley glares at me like, “OKAY, FOOL, I NEED TO PEE. BEHOLD MY DROOL.”
And after much fretting, I finally take them out. It rains harder just to spite me. Nicolas Cage warned me of this but no…
After our walk on the set of Umbrella, Harley gives me another glare like, “WHY WOULD YOU TAKE ME OUTSIDE IN THAT BULLSHIT? BAD OWNER! BAD!”
Ugh. I’m damned if I do…
And I am not taking them to Lake Calhoun anymore because it took far too long to clean the back seat of my car after these two hot-shedding-messes…ugh. Never again.
It’s late, I’m sweating, and my deodorant has broken down.
It’s summer, and it’s hot. My freshness is compromised.
Earlier this evening, Justin pointed out that it looks like Niagara Falls sprung from my armpits. I flashed a coy smile and wrung my armpit on his sofa… but my freshness woes are for another post…1
Spring semester ended and I started working full time. Things are changing at the office because all of my 3L friends graduated and moved on to bar prep, and a new set of interns took their place. It is exciting to have new coworkers, especially since new interns tend to overdress. They bring glamour to the cubicles.
The increased work schedule is complimented by my increased workout regimen. I skate around the lakes, got organized about lifting weights, and sometimes bike to work:
Amber ended law school on a high note:
Me: “You finished! Congrats! How does it feel to finish law school?”
Amber: “I…I don’t know. I don’t feel anything…”
Me: “Excitement?”
Here’s an outline of my spring semester. A lot happened…
January: The semester starts.
Exams are over. I’m a 3L, and thrilled.
The past few days were full of long hours at the library, late nights at the office, post-finals celebrations, dog walks, rollerblading, dancing, cackling, and even a date.
The corporate tax exam was a 3 hour typing contest. My goodness.
The semester is almost over. Tomorrow I will take my 24-hour advanced estate planning exam, which is my last final. This is more exciting than a McFlurry in July. Bam-chicka-wow!
I finally cleaned my finals-ridden apartment after my exam and then socialized with RJ and the Bretts.
We eventually end up at Brett #1’s apartment with Gumby and Gander in tow. Gumby is a random 22 year-old that Brett picked up in the bar, and Gander is one of Brett’s neighbors.
I did it – I took my 8-hour international tax law exam today! BAM-chickawow-wow!
I can’t talk too much about the exam (lest my Dean unleashes the Kraken) but I can say three things:
I took my exam at the nearby undergrad library because apparently law students need “special permission from the dean” to take law school exams in the law school library’s study rooms.
Stella and I are holed up at Starbucks studying for finals.
See, in law school Saturdays are off the chain. Behold:
How do I contain myself? Someone call Lindsay…
I think I overdid it yesterday.
Yesterday, the sweet sound of garbage trucks woke the dogs up at 5am. I walked the monsters, snuck off to the library, and took my Family Law exam at 8:30.
After the exam I channeled Jillian Michaels for two hours at the gym, walked the dogs again, and then (somehow) ended back in the library to print of copious amounts of international tax law regs.
My family law exam is done! Bam-chika-wow-wow…
Class ended (I’ll get to that later) and my first final is tomorrow.
Here are some pictures to prove that this finals season isn’t all about junkies and gloom:
The ersatz police dog:
The junkies living underneath me were evicted yesterday. The management company secretary said that booting the junkies out was a nightmare, and the building owner called and to apologize for ever renting to them.
The junkies made this semester rough. They screamed at all hours of the night, blocked and trashed the hallways, broke windows, and even fired a gun.
I’m hammering out my Family law outline when I find a snippet of Professor W among my notes:
Professor W: “It is your responsibility to tell me if you cannot hear me. My mic is not working. It doesn’t like me. It senses that I am afraid of it as a technical device and stops working just to test me. That’s just my imagination right?”
Get eight hours of sleep. Skipping on sleep is like not filling an empty gas tank because you are in a hurry. And unlike the silly driver, AAA can’t help a fried and sick law student.
You do not have time to battle acne, obesity, and caffeine withdrawal during finals. Plus, the fake-food is just going to drain your wallet and make you feel sluggish anyway. So go to the grocery store and stock up on your apples, peppers, bananas, nuts, cucumbers, & etc. Just don’t be “loud crunching guy” at the library or we will pelt you with oranges.
