The half-truths, omissions, and outright lies about floating through law school.

Monday 01/31/05

Monday, January 31, 2005

What I did today:

-Wake up and realize it's an hour later than I would have liked it to be.
-Shower. Not much exciting happening there, still very much asleep.
-Evidence: 2 pages of notes, +$30 in online poker. Cute girl in third row has a magnificent pair of underwear showing. Some kind of white g-string that doesn't quite meet in the top. Note to self: find out her deal.
-Restaurant Week lunch at Sushi Samba. The guy at the door is a predictably hurried and annoyed, in the interests of political correctness let's just say less than heterosexual, who eyes me up and down disapprovingly. I meet a college friend who is already there and only has 40 mins since he has to run back to his hedge fund and do whatever it is he does there. We don't have much time to chat and I leave a shitty tip.
-Gym. Some undergrads there shakin off their baby fat, not much to say except that the smell of b.o. is a little more overwhelming than usual. Some guy with a wrestler's physique is grunting entirely too loud for me to concentrate on my copy of Vanity Fair on the treadmill. Why did I leave my iPod at home? Why oh why.
-Nap. I should be reading for Antitrust but half of the class doesn't speak English so I am not too worried.
-Seminar. The professor's protege presents a paper on "victimless" crimes from a law and economics point of view. I leaf through it tiredly since I never read it but discover to my delight an entire section devoted just to potential punishment for sodomy law violations. Sadly, there are graphs with Greek letters in them. Reading shit like this is NOT why I came to law school. In order to justify my existance I ask a couple of moronic questions during the Q&A portion, including a totally superflous follow-up to an equally moronic question some Asian LLM asked in inaudible non-English.
-Porn break. Hey, I deserve it.
-Shower #2 so I can hit up a bar later. Tonight won't be a big night since I have to meet with some civil rights organization to do some research in defending the jailed indigent or something like that. If you are wondering why: yes there is credit involved and according to more than one 3L who knows, this is absolutely essential for my clerkship applications. If it was up to me, I would deport the indigent to Iraq. Still I will put on a suit and smile and listen to some guy with a criminal record longer than a law review article inform me why the police were wrong in hassling him for frightening young women in the East Village.

At least it's not snowing.

How to Dress like an Asshole [Brooklyn Hipster Edition]

1. Start with any shoes that might have been in a phys-ed class in the 1950s.
2. Non-denim pants of extreme tightness.
3. An 80s concert tour of a 70s band t-shirt.
4. Puma/Addidas track suit jacket with miscoloration somewhere on it.
5. To cover up your bedhair in the cold, one of those hats with the earflaps like the slightly retarded janitor of your high school used to wear.


My Money Where Did You Go

Friday, January 28, 2005

Writing down the sum of my summer earnings a few days ago reminded me of something: it's all almost completely gone. How did I manage to stumble through twenty grand in five months you ask?

$9000: Rent
$3000: Stock purchase of questionable future value. Current value: not quite $3000, quite far from it.
$2000: A couple of new suits.
$200: Bottle of Chat Cheval Blanc 1995, 96 points Wine Specator.
$350: Some ties and a belt.
$750: A print from a minor contemporary American artist who is friends with AnonymousFather. Consider this an investment.
$175: Getting the undergrad diploma framed, which I had previously forgotten.
$500-1000[?]: Visits to various establishments of entertainment of the not fully clothed variety.
$500: Shoe upgrade.
$750: Weekend in Florida. Don't remember much of it but it was warm.
$300: DVDs.
$400: New speakers for video setup. A gigantic disappointment, they sound like complete shit.
$100: Rolling Stones '66 Tour vintage concert poster.
$75: Framing the above item.
$300: Video games.
$225: Bottle of Gunderloch Nackenheim Rothenberg Trockenbeerenauslese 2002, 98 points Winse Speactator. Just splendid!
$300: Greasing the palms of various club bouncers.
$500: *REDACTED*
$50: Socks. Hey, you gotta have socks.
$700: AnonymousCleaningWoman.
$200: Tanning of the less than natural variety.
$250: Parking tickets.

Ok there's gotta be more. Cause there is none left now.

Almost all the grades are now back

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

My transcript brings all the firms to my yard
And they're like, it's better than yours
Damn right it's better than yours
I could teach you
But I have to charge

Time to celebrate.


Walking to my Evidence class, I slipped on some wet floor. And fell. Fell hard. We are talking about completely parallel to the floor at my highest point. Oh, the humanity. Adding to the experience was the thud that I made and the furtive turning of dozens of eyes to see what idiot took the nasty spill. Not one of these assholes even offered to help me up until a not-unattractive female of indeterminate origin walked over. By then I was already up and with it enough to notice a rather pleasantly tanned backside practically spilling out of her low-low rise jeans as she was bending over. So things could be worse. I just hope this doesn't seriously affect my squash game later today.

Damn it, damn it all.

Anonymous Cleaning Woman must not have thought much of my seminar paper which I was still finishing up from last semester. I say that because she has uncerimoniously disposed of a whole ream of research that I had done for it. It's not that big a deal since the thing is almost ready to be thrown into the fire of grading but it's just the principle of it that is upsetting. Made even more so by the fact that I could not even communicate the problem to Anonymous Cleaning Woman due to a rather sizable language barrier. Now my desk is adorned with: "No lance fuera de el Westlaw listado más." Let's hope it works.

Tuesday 01/25/05

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

I just got back from having lunch with a prof. At one point he picked his nose with his right pinky. Just a little at first to explore, then some circular action in there to dig some bad boy out. While we are eating. But he is tenured and somewhat well known and can be of assistance so I just looked away and plesantly smiled when he was done. I am doing some research work for him on his latest Law Review opus on how parking regulations are part of a systematic campaign against women and minorities or something like that. You see he is a "crit," or a Critical Legal Studies scholar. Where you and I might see a set of rules, he sees oppression and phallus-centeric cultural violence. That last phrase is repeated no less than five times in the rough version of the piece I am helping him research. And by research I mean footnote endlessly with quotations of other similarly-thinking "scholars." In case it is not yet abundantly clear, I find it unfathomable that he gets a pay check and a corner office for what he does. But I am willing to lend a hand since I am getting school credit as well as a gentleman's handshake agreement for some hot clerking recs when the time comes. I just hope he doesn't come around to the realization that such an arrangement has the net effect of perpetuating the white male power elite school paradigm. That might look good on my clerkship applications.

Here's something useful

Sunday, January 23, 2005

If you are a 1L and are desperately seeking that golden dream of a 1L summer associateship, gather around the fire. It's hard to find one but depending on your school and your grades, it's doable. Hell, I did it and that 20 grand post-taxes [we are hoping for a nice fat tax return as well] is pretty damn sweet. Here is some advice on how to find that coveted summer associate gig [following advice is for non "diversity" job searches only. If you happen to be a minority 1L, congratulations! You need not bother with this]:

First of all, as a psychological matter, give up any illusion that you are of ANY use to a firm as 1L. After a year of law school all you will know how to do is smile while wearing a suit and not get drunk at lunch. 2Ls are just as useless work-wise but they are recruited simply to be brought back as live bodies after they graduated. Since the 1L firm that might hire you knows you are NOT going back to them the second summer, they are in effect wasting money on you. Once we have reached this critical epiphany comes the fun part: find a firm so pathetic, desperate, downtrodden, ugly, declining, and otherwise deformed as is willing to hire 1Ls. The key questions to ask are:

-Has the firm had to fire associates in the past and have a bad reputation because of it?
-Have key partners been defecitng as of late?
-Has there been a scandal involving institutional racial insensitivity? [bonus points if you are a member of the racial group offended]
-Have business publications hinted at the firm closing?
-Is the firm below market in its benefits pacakge/bonus/etc.?
-Is the firm known not to give offers to all of its 2L summers?
-Is the firm the butt of jokes, as in "I sure hope I don't get a B- in Civ Pro, or I will have to work for firm X"?
-Is the firm trying a little too hard with promotional materials/cutesy recruiting pages/trying to be warm and fuzzy?
-Do people say "things could be worse, I could be headed to firm X"?
-Has the firm had any well-publicized suicdes of late?
-Do small children cry when the name of firm X is mentioned?
-Is the firm often compared to Brobeck?
-Have there been e-mails circulating around the internet displaying a partners' wrath at an associate?
-Have there been resignation e-mails filled with venom from a former associate circulating around?

The point of the exercise is to find some employers who are so unattractive to 2Ls that only the substandard and criminally insane would work there. Also add any office of a European-based firm, since they can't compete with the locals and will probably be gone in five years. Voila! Now go get a job which will allow you to experience three course lunches four times a week while doing little to nothing.

The reason the crappier firms desperate to raise their profile will look to 1Ls is because they are even more desperate for a job, don't know any better and will be so grateful to be thrown a bone that they will come back raving about the firm. This will in turn increase the morons at the margins who will overlook the fact that they are going to a shithole of an employer the next summer. Everyone wins!

A Rant

Friday, January 21, 2005

I have been ripping on the old people in law school enough but another rather annoying demographic is the "wanna be fratboy." These are the under 30 males who either straight out of college or a few years out decide to live their glory days in law school. And I say live as opposed to re-live because it is painfully obvious that they were, well to be nice, lacking in social options as undergrads. You know the type. Went to a pretty good school, spent spring breaks at home reading How to Get Into Law School, spent summers in financial service internships that apparently never quite panned out, just missed out the fun around them and now they will soak themselves in beer and occassionally their own piss and run around screaming what a good time they are having.

The sad thing is when they travel in packs. It's like a group of slightly retarded animals who look alike: brown hair with a part, cell phone holsters, a lot of J.Crew looking sweaters and tan slacks. I bet most of them owned the same SUV at some point. Like an aging aspiring actress who is past her prime without having had a prime they cling onto the youth that they missed out on, they are depressing and to be avoided. Also, they scare off any attractive women by the sheer fact that they travel 6-8 horny drunken assholes at a time.

Friday 01/21/05

So I went out last night. Ended up in a loft somewhere near the East River that I had been to before, still no idea how. Today I must sober up and get a few things done, like try to return some Chrismas presents I have been too lazy to try return until now. Two days ago I got into a pretty nasty tiff at a store trying to return some horrific tie for booze money. First I get an old guy who looked like some kind of accountant laid off late in life without a pension plan. I felt bad being mean to him but then his superior, who looked like a career retail loser shows up and I had no problems chewing him out. I ended up getting my refund and proceeded to buy a lovely bottle of 12 year old scotch.

Last night was kind of a waste. Met up with some old college friends who are bankers or something like that. The verdict: I don't think I do enough drugs to be a banker. Then very oddly I ran into the EIC of my journal. She was incredibly wasted and with some people I didn't know. Pretty sure she has a live-in boyfriend but she was definitely coming on to me, slurring on and on about how she appreciated my hard work [what hard work? I haven't shown up to do anything in months]. She is definitely a looker so I briefly contemplated *it* but the prospect of future weirdness and being assigned more cite-checking if things ended up awkward was too unsettling.

This morning I get an email that I have a huge cite-checking assignment that will require a trip off-campus. The moral of the story: sometimes you just can't make things more complicated than they are.

A rant

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Why does every foreigner who has somehow made it to this school feel a sense of self-importance of a Supreme Court justice? Hey Jacques, next time you have an incoherent but predictably long rant about the idiocy of civil procedure rules in the United States how about you pick up a little Anglais first. " do you" Oh and one other thing, no one cares how they do it in your country. Especially if it's one of those shitholes that members of U2 have to campaign to save from their debt obligations. No. One. Cares.

Wednesday 01/19/05

Feels weird to write "05" for anything. Will probably get used to that sometime in March, when the year will be 1/4 gone.

So I had lunch with AnonymousFriend today. He is applying to law school since he hates his "monkey-level" job in finance [his words, not mine]. I tried to make it clear to him just how much monkey work will be in his future if he follows the law route. Also, he quite sadly did not break the 170 mark on the L-S-A-T, meaning that a good school is probably out of the question. Well maybe not but I tried to stress to him the grimness of his later years if he doesn't crawl above the G-town line of law school respectability. Because frankly at that point he should start thinking about becoming one of those guys who cleans animal shit at the zoo.

Summer Class

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

I got a friendly email from the firm I will be lunching at this summer over the weekend, no less, announcing the members of our "class" and some other administrative to do. I knew a couple of people from this school and one or two names slithered through the cracks of memory from the Anonymous Alma Mater. Good kids, all of them. Thankfully there weren't any of the older, "nontraditional" crowd. And by that, of course, I mean many of the geezers who flamed out in their first career and marched on down to law school to try again. Man are they a sorry bunch. Mostly because they won't shut up about how great cave digging/free-lance journalism/business ownership/museum curatorship was. Oh, the war tales they have. Of course if they are so fucking successful what are they doing in school with the likes of me, taking on $150,000 in debt and foregone earnings?

Every incoming 1L under 30 should get a translation chart to deal with this crowd. Stating "occupation" that a fellow classmate will announce and what it really means. Something along the lines of:

"Consultant": Someone who looked good in a suit but didn't do very much.
"Author": did a lot of drugs, traveled through some ski resorts.
"Free lance journalist": worse drugs, less impressive ski resorts, much more sex with strangers.
"I-banker": poor schlob who was only employable during the 90s when all it took was a pulse and ability not to fart in meetings to be in at a bulge bank.
"Movie producer": lived near L.A., may or may not have actually been near a movie lot.
"Owned my own business": owe a lot of money to a lot of people. No chance of a home mortgage any time son.
"In sales": the less successful character from Glengary, Glenross.
"Worked for family business": ran family business into ground.
"College professor":fucked and undergrad and had to leave in a hurry.
"Worked on the Hill": answered phone for someone who was important, did a lot of coke in bathroom of Georgetown bars.
"Worked for a non-profit": just turn around from this person and walk away.
"Pharmaceutical company": sold a lot of questionable chemicals during boom times, fired when sales staff made way for lawyers.
"Management in corporation X": fired for incompetence/sheer stupidity/inability to add.
"Computer technician/consultant/PhD": not very good with computers despite creditials, will not be very good at the law thing either.
"Paralegal": the equivalent of a law fluffer. Not a lot of leadership potential here.
"Worked for the government": managed to moved out of an field that lives on its own ineptitude.

Classes Started Again

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

The fun thing about first week of classes as a non-1L is the whole "class shopping" thing. Profs are actually trying to be somewhat less monotonous and not drown you in the reading. Ok, who are we kidding they aren't trying at all because all that the school cares about is the amount of academic sludge that they churn out. According to an AnonymousDean I had the pleasure of speaking once at a cocktail reception when he was quite loaded, the faculty is evaluated on one and one thing only: academic scholarship. Beyond that, "It's nice when they don't fuck the students." He actually said that to me, in the midst of a vodka gimlet while eyeing a female in short skirt the same way I look at cheesesteaks on menus when I am hungry walking down Third Avenue.

The point being that the profs don't care, they know that we don't care since we all have jobs. Except for a couple of people who are so blindgly dumb they should have probably considered a career as accountants. But we don't care and during the first week when we go to classes that we probably won't stay in we care even less. Except for the couple of nutjobs who write down everything the prof said verbatim and sit there in rapt attention as if the paunchy old white man in front of them, very obviously mailing it in big time and obviously in no small hurry to get back to his spacious office and footnote his latest law review opus, or surf the web, or whatever it is that they do in there, will reveal some great truth. Those people are destined to get the B-s. They lack imagination and probably cannot write at above a seventh grade level.

It's Evolution, Baby!

Monday, January 10, 2005

"All through the shadows they come and they go
With only one thing in common
They got the fire down below"-Bob Seger.

I don't think long-term relationships are natural. I mean they are fine for a while and all but ultimately we are just fighting our evolutionary hard-wired desires and you can only do that for so long. If you don't believe me, check out the divorce rate in this country.

I caught myself thinking that when I was checking out a particularly curvy third-year in a rather tedious introductory class in corporate something or other. Or maybe evidence, who knows. Half of the people in the room won't be back next week so the prof is mailing it in and I am only there because I was rip-roaring drunk most of last week and feel bad about it. So there is a a third year about 30 degrees to my northeast lookin' mighty fine. A little thick in the trunk, especially when accentuated by tight-fitting jeans that surely set her back at least two Franklins but otherwise just marvelous. And I find myself thinking yeah she is hot and maybe single and maybe I can somehow wedge my way into her circle of friends and "hang out" and one thing will lead to another and maybe sparks will fly and there will or won't be amazing sex to be had. But then I will be bored and I will want her out of my room so I can watch cartoons and the Yes network in my queen-sized bed and I will get bored and wonder if she has a sister who is a theater major in the undergrad here and...well thats just how these things go. But don't blame me, blame evolution. Because pre-historic protolawstudent who thought like me [the AnonymousCaveman if you will] got to reproduce quite a bit. And here I am, carrying out their legacy.

People That Annoy Me

Thursday, January 06, 2005

-Men who use chapstick.
-People who pick up the cell phone on the subway during the 1/10th of the second there is a glimmer of service below ground. You know you will lose the call in about two seconds. How about instead of screaming into the phone you let them leave a message?
-Professors who send the syllabus way, way, way in advance.
-Employees of the more upscale stores in Manhattan. Yes I realize most of your clientele is a lot wealthier/powerful/more famous than me but if not for the chic name out front you would be nothing.
-Tourists and college kids on break who flood into the city.
-People from Long Island who say they are "from New York." You are from a cesspool of suburbia that happens to be in the same state, don't fool yourself.
-The Anonymous Alma Mater Alumni Development Office. Stop bugging me about money, I will give when I am ready.
-Girls who think $200 jeans are a way of dressing up.
-The guys working the door at really shitty establishments. I am only here because my friends from out of town don't know any better and don't give me an attitude because you look like any further violence on your part might violate the terms of parole.
-Girls who work in advertising/media/PR who insist on name dropping the celebs they have seen at work parties. You still make $30,000 a year and the fact that you were once close enough to spit on Sarah Jessica Parker won't change that fact.
-Anyone who lives near, on, or around Murray Hill.
-Panhandlers near my gym. If I am in my gym clothes, I am usually not carrying lots of change. And even if I did, I would rather spend it on my drug problem and not yours.
-Everyone who will enrich themselves off the relief aid for the tsunami. Red Cross administrators, the Thai army, Sri Lankan officials.
-AnymousOlderBrother for not having a job, sleeping with no less than a different woman a night and somehow avoiding the stress that I have built into my life.
-My trainer, who has no idea what he is doing because he is from the Midwest somewhere. Or maybe Oregon. Either way, hick.
-People who will buy the book of Scott Peterson's mistress. Half completed degree in massage therapy+big ol' fake tits+affair with convicted murder=She must have something to say!
-Myself for knowing what she majored in.
-Ironic, know-it all Brooklyn hipsters who have never had a job in their life and probably never will. By the time that time comes they will graduate to be post-ironic, post-Brooklyn shit-eating respected members of the middle class.

That's all for today. I think a night out is in order.

Tuesday Means Getting Well

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Tuesday is when I see my therapist. Twice a month. On Tuesdays. We sit on the floor and talk. The sitting on the floor thing was his idea, it is supposed to held me relax and all of that but today I spent a lot of time worrying about how it would affect my new Zenga pants I got as a Christmas present. I shared that with my therapist, who quite correctly asked me if I was having anxiety about being on high floors again. He's a sharp guy, very good.

All of us: AnonymousFather, AnonymousMother, myself, and AnonymousOlderBrother used to go to another guy as a family once a month back in the day but he landed most of the cast of some Broadway show for group therapy and then some soap opera actors and jacked up his rates that AnonymousFather, as the sole income provider found unacceptable. And knowing what my current therapist costs, I can't really blame him.

After that little detour into the mysteries of the inner being, I had lunch with AnonymousOlderBrother. He is a video-artist or a graphics desiner, or a painter, or whatever it is he feels like today. As far as I know he has not incurred a paying job of any sort since I was a junior in college. He does a lot of interesting-sounding drugs and has sex with a lot of female i-bankers from Chappaqua, who don't want to date him but lose their expensive underwear quite fast at the sight of a man who never wakes up before 1, has tussled hair and lives in a loft. The current loft is in some shithole in Queens, because "Brooklyn is so over." While we are lunching he babbles on about a great cover of an 80s De La Soul hit he heard by a punk band at a warehouse party in Astoria last Sunday night. He can't quite finish a sentence and when I confront him about it confesses to being high. Following my therapist's advice I offer to pick up the bill, which he doesn't protest. Even though in either case AnonymousFather will be paying, I find this a bit inconsiderate. Something to discuss in therapy 2 weeks from today.

New Years' Resolutions

Sunday, January 02, 2005

-Make some new friends. Mine are too busy trying to mate with each other to be a lot of fun. And it's all about fun.
-Stop over-tanning. It looks great but who needs the health headache.
-Go to the Yankees home opener. Big Unit on the mound, me Anonymously drinking suds in the stands.
-Drink less beer and more red wine. I read that is good, or something.
-No more college alumni events. Everyone who hangs out at the old alma mater club is borderline intolerable.
-Buy some commercial outlines this time. One girl in an in-class exam was leafing through hers rather thoughtfully and dammit, I cannot fall behind the curve now.
-Buy another suit for the summer. Hopefully Cerruti or Cavali will have a sale. If not, I will have to brave the M.S.R.P.
-Less roadtrips, more coming to class. Sure the random jaunt to L.A. is a good time but I have got to wean myself off that.
-Read something other than the Wall Street Journal.
-File a Vioxx lawsuit.

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