Root, root, root

Today, around 5:30, I stopped by my boyfriend's office at Big Firm X to pick something up from him. He met me in the lobby and pointed to a group of recruiters. "Check it out," he said. "They're standing there waiting for the summers to come downstairs so they can distribute their Yankees tickets."

"I want to go to a Yankee game! Can I go?" I cried out.

(Oh wait, I'm studying for the bar, right.)

Then I smiled, thinking about how if I weren't studying for the bar and it were a night I could go, I probably still wouldn't want to. Cause see, even if I got to go to fancy restaurants three times a week, or fun baseball games, or cooking classes at world-renowned culinary institutes, I'd have to do all this fun stuff with other summers. And how fun would that be?

The real prize would be if they gave gift certificates to do this stuff with people whose time you actually value. I'd rather eat a slice of pizza on my couch with my boyfriend than go to Daniel or whatever with a bunch of overeager summer asses. Enjoy that game guys!