Madre Jansen got a scanner, so the baby pictures are a-coming online:
I really need to do these summaries on a weekly basis because I end up giving short-shrift to everything when I wait two weeks.
What happened these past two weeks? Well, there was school, dates, drag show fabulousness, illness/rice socks, music production, the Minneapolis gay pride parade, diva-dom, and mass awkwardness.
The most exciting thing that happened during the last two weeks is that I finished my first song. Here is the concise version:
This is the first batch of Twin Cities Pride Parade photos. Ta-da! Click on the thumbnails to see a bigger version.
I am typing this with a hot, rice-filled sock pressed against my face.
I was sick for most of the week, but this morning I woke up with my eye almost swollen shut. I was convinced that my face was rotting, so I made a desperate call to the school optometrist.
The receptionist said she could “work me in” around 3pm, so my work-day got off to a very late start. I walked the krakens around Calhoun and then spent the rest of the afternoon creating beats in Ableton. The Calhoun walk was pretty, if not a little hot.
Ableton arrived! I had to fetch it from the FedEx facility in the far-flug northern suburbs, but it’s here.
As a crusty rising 3L, I don’t blog about school much anymore. Law school lost its new car smell about a year ago. The pedals stick, and the engine leaks.
But I remember how useful law student blogs were to me during the summer before law school, so I feel obligated to throw some unsolicited advice out into the interweb. Grab your salt, and guard your loins.
And don’t worry. I’ll be concise. Here are 5 points:
Now, when I tell an accepted law student to read Philalawyer’s letter, I get the same response: “Oh, well, gee, that sounds TERRIBLE! But well, it’ll be different for me.”
I have three things to say to that:
Just like joining the military is preferable to say, doing meth, law school is also not a terrible mistake for most people. It may be a waste of three years of your life and a lot of money, but again, it’s not meth. You’ll be fine. Maybe.
So, for those of you soldiering on,
If you only read one thing, then read “First Impressions: What You Don’t Know About How Others See You” by Ann Demarais and Valerie White.
The most jarring thing about law school is the amount of unchecked douchebaggery going around. It’s absolutely shocking and needs to stop.
I am pretty sure that classroom etiquette sessions are part of my school’s orientation schedule next year, but the vast majority if schools don’t offer these sessions, so it is your duty not to be “that student” during orientation.
Also visit student blogs and go through the archives. Law student blogs are best orientation you can get.
Some of the classic law student blogs include: But No Thanks, Butterflyfish, and New Kid on the Hallway. But check the rest of the blogs linked on the left side of the page, and those linked at Evan Schaeffer’s Legal Underground.
Their lives are so hard. Sigh.
My optometrists are at the Mall of America Lenscrafters. I love them. They are competent and the assistants are hilarious. But the downside of going to the mall for contacts is passing this place:
Club O-Zone was the only club within walking distance of the University of Miami during my freshman year. The club was in a semi-abandoned strip mall, right next to the Florida Department of Family Services, and yes, it was absolutely hilarious.
The university bought the strip mall, flipped it, and now a pack of luxury apartment buildings sits where I created some of the best memories of freshman and sophomore year. Good thing I took pictures.
The picture quality on this blog has gone down since I bought a blackberry. The blackberry camera is convenient, but I realized how inadequate it was when I tried to take shots at the Townhouse:
Although the blurriness captures the excitement of the night, I would have preferred clearer shots.
More pictures after the jump.
It is 3am. Our group is outside of Pizza Luce in downtown Minneapolis, and an oversized bouncer is frisking us for weapons.
The bouncer pats us down, lifts our pant legs, asks for IDs, and then tells us the cover is $4. “Cover” is probably not the right word. It was applied to our pizza, so it was more like a down payment. I still thought all of this was a bit odd for a pizzeria, until I got inside…
After getting searched and charged, we stroll inside and experience the ghettofabulous scene: there were pimp suits, neon mesh leggings, candy colored stilettos, sweated-out weaves, grills, jelly rolls, folds, muffins, and zebras…. It was glorious.
We got our pizza and somehow made it to the Hotel Minneapolis without getting mugged. And although there are better pictures, I think this blurry shot best depicts the zombie-like fashion in which the guys attacked with pizza:
I hung out with Jorde tonight. I keep a set of Miami-transplant friends in Minneapolis because they remind me that I am not, in fact, crazy. Call us snotty, but we don’t wear tennis shoes with dress pants, or eat at nightclubs.
The adjustment to Minneapolis was easier for me than it was for my Miami friends up here, mostly because I spent 12 years in Wichita. Although I do occasionally rock some Calle Ocho/Lincoln road tacky, like bright pink shirts.
And yes, there’s a blurry blackberry picture of that:
It is raining. I am walking the dogs. So of course I have both leashes in one hand, my blackberry in the other, and a golf umbrella balanced between my cheek and my shoulder.
That’s when I run into my new neighbor, McDreamy, who has some sort of husky mix.
Between the phone, the leashes and the umbrella, I am awkwardly juggling too many things and trying my best not to drop anything. McDreamy wants the dogs to meet but I avoid eye contact because I need to focus on keeping Gertrude from lunging at the husky. She lurches forward and yelps. I almost drop the umbrella.
I look awkward. My dog looks vicious. It’s a giant swagger fail…and I blame her:
Tyler and I met at Wilde Roast yesterday after work. Tyler and I must be chatty-cathys because I look down at my watch and it’s somehow two hours later and I am 20 minutes late for picking up Roby at the Mall of America… woops.
I excuse myself, zip across town to the Mall, and beg Roby to forgive me for being on Miami time. Roby forgives me after a few bribes and we drive back to the city for $1 beverage night at Lush Bar.
Wednesday nights start at Lush because it has a video bar and the place is slow enough to have a conversation without screaming. So Roby and I stood and gossiped, watched Toni Braxton’s new botox video, and I had the pleasure of introducing Roby to Brett, one of my favorite people.
Roby and I then skipped over to the Townhouse bar in St. Paul.
Townhouse is a lesbian/drag bar right across from a Wal-Mart that also hosts a $1 beverage night on Wednesdays. I love going to the Townhouse on Wednesdays because the people watching …is amazing. Behold:
Roby wore plaid, and with so many lesbians in the crowd, of course he had a twin!
And, like every week, there was a tragic hot mess that we need to discuss, but the pictures are after the jump because she is NOT WORK APPROPRIATE. Let’s see…
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:
Some people asked why I refer to the Uptown Dunn Brothers Café as “the brothel.”
Well, the café isn’t a brothel, but apparently there was one upstairs.
I mentioned the café before because of the odd naked mannequin in the back:
