Randomness

I like to give people I don't know but encounter on a regular basis nicknames that reflect what they are usually doing when I see/hear them. For example, my upstairs neighbor is Stompy because I can always hear when she comes home from the building-shaking steps she takes. The kids next door... well, they're just the Damn Neighbor Kids. They like to play outside at ungodly hours of the morning, usually with a basketball which I can only assume they bounce directly on my bedroom wall by the volume and intensity of the bounces.

Item #2 - The Lemon Law
First introduced on the TV show How I Met Your Mother, the Lemon Law allows you five minutes at the beginning of a date to call it off if you can see that things are not going well. Named after the law that allows you to return and get your money back for a "lemon" car, this allows you to ensure that you don't waste precious nights out with your friends with some loser. Pictured at left: The Lemon Law card, which you give to your prospective date right before walking away. Note: This seems like a good idea in theory, but I can't say I've put it into practice seeing as law school has taken over my social life. Try it out, tell me how it works for you!

Item #3 - Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey split up - oh man, this has only been the headline of so many magazines for, what, six months? Frankly, I'm glad. Now I won't have to see their ugly mugs on the cover of every magazine every week. People I know are actually genuinely upset that they are splitting up - come on. It's not like they're your friends who you thought were meant to be and this is shaking the very foundation of marriage and everything you believe in - grow up.

And last but not least, thanks to Samantha for pointing out that our criminal law professor, Michael Sharlot, is really Barty Crouch, of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire fame. Just see for yourself. (Barty Crouch is on the left).

Just call me Lizett Wells

So this post was supposed to be all about how I went on this Wells family trip to the movies, and how I feel like part of their family. Such a nice, wholesome Friday night - Dad and Marissa went to go see Chicken Little, while Andrew, Phil, Mom, and I went to see Harry Potter. So I thought to myself, you know what would be funny? If I got one of Phil's pictures of his family off of facebook and Photoshopped my way in them. And then, as I looked up the pictures, I realized... wow, that is really creepy. So, while I did feel like another Wells sibling that night, and I do love their family, Photoshopping my way into their family is just a step further than I am willing to go.

Asshole Bingo = very yes

Some of you may have seen this article already from Megan's blog. It describes, fairly accurately I might say, the law school experience (especially first year) and introduced me to the fabulous game that is Asshole Bingo (or as we might put it, Gunner* Bingo). Asshole Bingo is made up of a 'bingo card' with all your classes across the top and five assholes from you section (or 'gunners') along the side, in whichever order you choose.

So let's say for example, you have Gunner #2 on the left side and "Crim Law" on the top somewhere, and surprise, surprise, Gunner #2 has a question in Crim Law. Then you would mark an X in that box. First to bingo wins! This seems like yet another hilarious way to pass the one hour of class. Well done, Miss Doxie.

I think my favorite section, though, is the part where she pinpoints when your soul dies. And yes, for those of you who are interested, my soul is dead:

Because, see, law school makes you insane. There are no exceptions. Soon you will be nuts.

And it comes on slowly at first; you'll be at a party with other first years... Someone will fall over during a keg stand, or fall down a flight of stairs, or SOME accident will occur, and instead of calling the party foul, as would be appropriate in such an instance, one of your classmates will instead turn to the group and say, "That is a tort."

And you will AGREE. And you will LAUGH. Because it is TRUE.

Now. You have just passed an important milestone! At this point, your soul is dead. Sorry.

*Gunner = someone who shoots their arm into the air each time the professor asks a question or when a student who is called on hesitates for a fraction of a second.

Probably the best haiku ever

Yeah, my haiku tribute to Fro was pretty good. But this haiku, by our very own Peanut, is probably the best ever.

Go bleed on the field.
Not the men-stru-a-tion kind.
OOSE MOTHERFUCKERS!!

Oose, indeed.

Recreation

In the old days, blogging twice a week was a feat. I like to post more frequently because it amuses me, and I think inspires others to blog more frequently, which means more things for me to read while in class.

Unfortunately, except for the moment of genius where I thought up the Scientologist Pirate, there hasn't been much time or inspiration. The law library isn't exactly a mecca for creativity. In fact, it crushes my will to live and makes me want to die sometimes.

Today I studied for civil procedure. That class makes me want to gouge my eyes out. Out of hte five or six practice problems our group did, I answered maybe one right. And the thing that kills me is that the exam is multiple choice. You'd think that makes it easier, right? Wrong! Sucker! According to people who have had this class before, a good 8 out of 40 will get you a solid B. I'm going to drink heavily the night before the exam and that'll probably increase my test-taking skills.

So taking a night off to watch TV and eat ice cream is the best I got now.

Lizett's hero of the week

So back in undergrad, the tones had their Baritone Hero of the Week, which was more like the Baritone Hero of Whenever We Feel Like Updating Our Website. I have been yearning to search for a place to show my respects to some special people, so I'd like to post my own Hero of the Week.

This week's hero is the Scientologist Pirate. His teeth are always clenched tight, he jumps on couches, and refuses antidepressants to get him out of his perpetual state of insanity. I hear they can also crush beer cans on their heads. Just imagine it... crooked-teethed, hook-handed, anti-depressant-hating, eye-patched lunatics jumping on sofas. I'm pretty sure they could kick a Rastafarian pirate's ass. AND they have crystals.

So here's to you, Scientologist Pirate. You are friends with Tom Cruise... and that's a score against you, but we love you anyway.

I still love you, Bluth Family

DEPRESSING DEVELOPMENT: Fox all but confirmed late Thursday that Arrested Development has been canceled. Not only is the show being pulled off the air until Dec. 5, but Arrested's third-season order has been slashed from 22 episodes to just 13. (Arrested's Monday-night companion Kitchen Confidential is also cooked.) And how's this for stomach-churning irony: The Bluths got the hook the same day that ABC extended a full-season order to Freddie.

The UPS guys are still in shorts

The apocalypse is coming, my friends. How do I know this? Today is November 9, and the high was 89 degrees, with no sign of it getting any cooler. Sure, it's been a little cooler before when random rebel cold fronts have come through, but generally it has been amazing weather here. I honestly don't remember if it was always this nice in November or if I'm just making a big deal out of it because I've been in the frozen tundra for the past four winters, but it is glorious. I almost went swimming yesterday because it was so hot out. I didn't, but I could've if I wanted to!

And to relate this all to the heading, I saw a UPS guy today still wearing his trusty brown shorts. I gotta say, I love Texas in November

So, come here often?

That's right my friends, I actually heard that comment come from a male's mouth this Saturday night in a pick-up attempt. The only thing more ridiculous, as we all know, is "What's your sign?" I know men do some crazy things to attempt to get in a girl's pants, but this is ridiculous.

I'm a little dissapointed at the lack of comments on my previous post. I couldn't have handed you better material than "A ten day salute to sausage". It was actually a really great time. I went to Wurstfest with Sheila and her mother. This is way bigger than I originally imagined. Tons of booths full of all different kinds of sausage, including something called the ultimate sausage on a stick - five different kinds of sausage and a bun on a kabob stick. I decided to stick to the cheddarwurst and some PaulAner, which hit me pretty hard (maybe it's because it was 11 am?). Tim showed up around 1 or 1:30, after the ferris wheel riding but just in time to see the polka band, yodelers and clogging. We made it back to Austin around 5:30, just in time for me to get showered up and head off to see Movin' Out. Turns out they screwed up my tickets, so they ended up just giving me tickets in the seventh row back and right smack in the middle. You could see the sweat dripping off the dancers (which can be great, or just kind of creepy).

So anyway after the show Della and I went down to Fado on 4th street. Fado is a really sweet Irish pub with a rooftop patio that I guess is supposed to look like an Irish alley? We were up there listening to this Irish-punk type band - reminded me a lot of Flogging Molly, but they played a lot of Johnny Cash. It is here where I heard the aforementioned pick-up line. That's when Della and I knew we had to get out of there.

The rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful, but Saturday's adventures were enough for me.

Wurst-fest

Last night I went to Alamo Draft House to go see North Country. This whole event was actually my idea, and it was cleverly executed by my friend Sheila, who actually has connections, such as "knowing" who the people in charge are and being able to "get in contact" with them. The Women's Law Caucus paid for our movie tickets + food + drinks. So I got a free ticket + free personal pizza + splitting a bucket of Rolling Rock. Delicious. The movie itself was really good, but of course slightly disturbing because it's about women getting sexually harrassed in some sort of mine in Minnesota, so there are the requisite "Look how bad guys are to women" scenes. Then I came home and read a chapter of sexual assault cases for crim law. Pretty much the most depressing night ever.

This weekend, however, is looking up. Tomorrow is some thing called Wurst-Fest. Basically, Sheila's husband Tim is in a bike race from Austin to New Braunfels and we're going to pick him up and attend some sort of festival that involves brats and German beer, and perhaps some clogging. We're a little unclear on the details. In case you haven't noticed, I don't go anywhere unless it involves beer or food, and preferably both.

Lee Corso is a penis

Yeah, I'm sure all of you have already seen it because everyone who reads my blog probably also reads Mal's, but here it is:
You're right, my friend. Lee Corso is a penis.

Anyway, this week has been fairly uneventful. People are starting to get all riled up about getting ready for finals - and they're a little more than six weeks away. Calm down, people. Your constant jabbering and nervous twitching is making me uneasy. I don't want to freak out about finals. I really don't. So please stop freaking out. Tomorrow the Women's Law Caucus is paying for our tickets to go see North Country. All I can say is, thumbs up for free movie tickets. And since it's at Alamo Draft House, it also means thumbs up for free food. And free beer. Oose?