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

Monday 03/21/05

Monday, March 21, 2005

I was at a club on Saturday night with a couple of friends. Some professional soccer players were there or something so the full eurotrash contingent was out in full force. Impossibly thin women who put more thought into their outfits than Laurence Tribe did into his last law review article. Impossibly sleazy men with carefully cultivated three day stubble and near-matching dress shirts that cost half a grand now that the dollar is sucking. All of this amidst music loud enough to make your balls vibrate. So I wouldn't normally spend my early Sunday morning at such a place since the odds of picking up a perfectly bronzed model-esque specimen at one of these places requires a million dollar+ annual income or a professional modeling contract, but I am with some friends who haven't had that point sink in yet, or are scoping out their future war prizes after they have million dollar incomes, or just don't care about wasting a night out.

AnonymousFriend is chatting up a group of girls who look a bit subprime for this locale so we may have a chance. I quickly saddle in behind him in the circle to find that one of them is visibly pregnant. Now I am not talking about like 8 and a half months bulge but there is a pretty obvious line of baby hanging out. I try to figure out if perhaps she is just oddly shaped in the belly region when AnonymousFriend2 rolls in. He has been drinking for the past 5 hours because, as a banker, this might be his only night off for the next six weeks. Thus he has been trying to make the best of it and is on pace to be comatose within 2 or so hours. He immediately pokes me and announces that there is a pregnant girl in the club. The music is way too loud for anyone else to hear so we run through possible scenarios: maybe the baby daddy is here, maybe she work[s][ed] here, maybe this is her last night out, maybe this is how people get rid of unwanted children nowadays.

To make a long story short, I end up drinking quite a bit more and out of pure animal curiosity meander over to woman w/child. The final tally: 1)is pregnant 2) apparently not afraid of F.A.S., although to be fair what harm could a Smirnoff Ice do to anyone? 3) the baby daddy not in the picture as she very unsubtly invites me back to her place. Lacking the prerequisite fetish, I end up at a diner until the sun comes up absolutely horrified. At least I am not irresponsible by some standards.

I end up feeling like shit all of Sunday and can't get any work done. An incomprehnsible-sounding European calls to yell at me for trying to slip his fiancee my phone number but I don't even remember that happening and in either case am too out of it to yell back.


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