Strict Scrutiny

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodnight

2007-01-18T23:16:00.000-05:00

So if anyone ever checks this anymore, you will notice that I haven't written a damn thing in almost a month. I've been blogging for a year and a half, and this is absolutely the longest break I've taken. It's for good reason: two very important things have happened that have altered how interesting this blog can be (assuming it was interesting before):

1. I started my real job, which I love, and which forbids me from blogging about anything I want to talk about. It's a real pity because my job is fascinating (and so are some of the characters I work with) but I'm not about to risk getting fired over a blog five people read. I could maintain blogging about my personal life, but I have this little feeling it is not very interesting to anyone anymore now that...

2. I have gotten engaged. My personal life now consists of cramming in calls to caterers, wedding halls, florists, and so on during my breaks. While I am having a great time with it, and I find the wedding business to be fascinating, yet exploitative (and the family drama it brings to the surface to also be fascinating, yet horrifying), I have noticed the glazed look on people's faces when I answer their questions about how planning is going. I have realized they are asking to be polite and don't actually care what the cost of a good smorg is with and without a sushi station, or what my colors are, or whether I have a floral chuppah or a tallit on four poles. That's fine, I'm pretty sure I didn't care about most of the details when most of my friends got married in the past (not including you, Groomzilla - you know who you are - it was fun talking to you about yours and I now realize very helpful), and probably won't in the future.

Thus the lack of blogging. I'm afraid I won't be able to continue, either, since I'm not making a bridal blog - barf barf barf - and I can't talk shit about my supervisors, colleagues, or defendants. So I guess this is goodbye. Or maybe au revoir? Will I be able to stay away? Stay tuned.

Our own worst enemies

2006-12-11T23:08:00.000-05:00

I don't particularly understand girls. I know I am one, but that doesn't really give me much insight. I just don't get how smart, pretty, sane girls can turn into pathetic, sniveling, shrieking, blind shrews when guys get involved (and I include myself in that generalization).

My boyfriend and I stayed with a friend of mine in Los Angeles this past weekend. (Note that this post is not about how insane Los Angeles is, but rather how insane my friend was acting. That should give you some perspective on how bad her behavior was, since LA is pretty low-hanging fruit as far as criticism goes and would make for a decent post by itself.)

My friend, E, is a very intelligent girl. I've known her for years and I admire her greatly. She's beautiful, smart, has a great sense of humor, and can parallel park like a champ. She's got everything going for her, but when it comes to dudes she is no better than Britney. At this moment in time, she is single, having recently ended a long-term relationship with an industry type much older than she is. Things went south pretty quickly when it turned out (over a year into their relationship) that he had a child from a previous relationship, was having obsessive cybersex with fat chicks (can't make this shit up, people), and generally had more issues than could even be listed.

Time to tell him and his old balls to hit the road, right? Well, sort of. They are now "just friends," except of course they are sleeping together, and since I was in town, she wanted him to come meet up with us. He didn't. I didn't realize this was such a big deal, since I think of him as her piece of shit ex, but at 8 o'clock Sunday morning I learned just how big of a deal it was to her. She freaked out on him for "letting her down" by not calling, and when I say freaked out, I mean she kept him on the phone for close to two hours, yelling, accusing, crying, a full-on breakup except that they've broken up already. Lucky us, we got to hear the whole thing but had to pretend we were sleeping. I kept thinking, if I were that guy, I'd have hung up on her. What good are exes if you still have to listen to the tirade at eight o'clock in the morning on a Sunday??? "If you hate me so much, why not dump me? Oh wait - YOU ALREADY DID!"

Why keep talking to this guy? Why continue to ~~do it regularly~~ stay friends with an aging hipster who is obviously in it for the 24 year old chach and shouldn't be trusted any further than people walk in LA? I have no clue. None. She could date anyone she wanted, normal people, good-looking people, smart people, powerful people, anybody! Instead, she gets super bent out of shape about this guy, and there's nothing I can say to help her see how she is wasting her time. I've done the same type of shit (though not on this level) and even that doesn't help me understand why we put ourselves through it. But watching it from ten feet away sure is bizarre.

I left my spleen in San Francisco

2006-12-07T01:30:00.000-05:00

With regard to my last post - I am over it. In the short, short time span of 24 hours, I decided I actually like it here. While I would never, ever, eeeever live here, it is a place I'd like to visit again while not being aggressively tour-guided by someone else's family. It is clean, pretty, and the scenery around the city is really worth writing home about. If only I could take all the San Franciscans out of the city and allow people like me to invade it.

Another subject, however, has been interesting me of late. It is bonus season, as I'm sure all firm lawyers are painfully aware, and yet no bonus announcement has been forthcoming. I have been wondering what they would do about bonuses ever since all you overpaid biglaw people got your $20,000 raise this year - okay, okay, raise in salary, I can practically hear the chorus correcting me from here. It will be determined whether this was a raise in salary or really a raise in actual compensation when they get around to announcing the bonuses, which should have happened already.

But in their infinite wisdom, the partners who make the deals that drive our economy seem to have forgotten basic game theory. I didn't major in political science, but I did take a couple intro classes and I always found game theory particularly interesting. This situation is a classic example of it. No one wants to make the first move and announce bonuses, and who can blame them? Sullivan, Skadden, Cravath, whoever - all the traditional first movers have been deafeningly silent this season. Whoever moves first will set the tone for the rest, which is true every year, but now the stakes are higher. Will first year attorneys really be compensated $180,000 before taxes? Does anybody actually think this is a good idea? Or will total compensation remain the same as it has been the past few years despite the increase in profits per partner at many major firms?

It's hilarious to me mainly because the motivation behind all this nonsense is their mistaken belief that these firms need to fight over law students since there are supposedly fewer law students now than there were before. This belief, of course, is total and complete bullshit and has been since the beginning. There are now and always will be competent attorneys willing to work for them regardless of whether the starting salary is $125,000 or $145,000 (or, dare I say it, way less). There are still plenty of law students, plenty of smart, capable law students, and the minute these snotbag firms stop restricting themselves to the top ten percent at top-tier schools, they will open their doors to much cheaper labor who will likely be able to do the high-level adminstrative work that first-year attorneys at these firms perform.

My prediction is that the bonuses will be the same as they were last year. Why? Again, game theory. All it takes is one law firm that had a particularly good year to place bonuses at that level and then everyone else will look cheap. It doesn't matter if it's the first firm to announce or the fourth. If it's the fourth, then the three firms that announced already will likely have to match. If only one firm goes through with the raise, then that one firm really will have the edge come recruitment season. Nobody wants that. So I think it will be the same.

Mind you, I'd be happy if someone gave me a bonus of $50. I am able to keep in mind that a bonus is just that - a bonus, something you are not necessarily entitled to - and that it is the season of gratitude. I'm grateful for the fact that these idiots have to keep paying through the nose in order to attract the biggest d-bags from my school; it gives me something to laugh at. They are reliably good at that.

Are you going to San Francisco? Sure hope not

2006-12-05T02:42:00.000-05:00

Leave it to me to go on vacation and have my stress levels actually go UP. Here I am in California and I gotta tell you that I totally hate it here. Today at lunch, my boyfriend and I were sitting with some airheaded Californians to whom he is inexplicably related talking about terrorism and the Golden Gate bridge, and seriously, G-d help me, I actually thought, "They'd be doing the world a fucking favor if they bombed this awful place!"

You must know that if I am silently rooting for a catastrophe like that, a place is pretty fucking bad. Oh, and it is.

I honestly don't even know where to begin. It seems like I landed in the place that time forgot, and then when it remembered, it beat the crap out of everyone. In other words, the ghost of the sixties, which seems to be its heydey, looms large, and so do the aging hippies who seem to have deviated off their former diets of daisies and sprouts or whatever and are now fat hypocrites who whine about emissions all day but own more cars than the number of people in their houses. As someone in Zoolander once said, "Am I taking crazy pills or is this place still tripping on acid?" Well, that's not exactly what they said but it's close enough. Leave me alone I'm under a lot of stress right now. I need a vacation. GET ME OUT OF HERE.

Gobble gobble

2006-11-22T23:05:00.000-05:00

I love Thanksgiving.

As a non-Christmas observer, or shape shifter, or however you want to put it - basically, a Jew - I always felt left out of the hullaballoo surrounding Christmas. The TV ads showing adorable blonde children unwrapping gifts under a beautiful pine tree always made me jealous, they got to bring a nice-smelling tree into the house, why couldn't I? Only many years later did I grow to appreciate the many more holidays my religion has and the fun and interesting ways they are celebrated. Let's face it, Judaism's got a lot going for it but in terms of sharing in the national holiday season spirit, we are left out in the cold (but at least we're not left out in the cold singing songs about Jesus).

But Thanksgiving is another story. Thanksgiving is an American holiday, and it's one that my family has always gotten really into. We go a little nuts for it and it's the best. It's nice to have people wish me a happy Thanksgiving and I don't have to wish them something stupid like "happy holidays" or whatever. I love joining in the national celebration, it makes me feel so American to stand in line at Macys with everybody else trying to find a gravy boat that is not hideous or shaped like a turkey (weird).

And given the whole bar thing, I've got a lot to be thankful for. So happy Turkey Day everyone!

Catch a tiger by the toe

2006-11-18T21:20:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I got my MBE score in the mail (along with the official sheet of paper saying I passed, so now I can stop worrying about that). And, well, I did a little better than expected. Just goes to show you that they don't lie to you in nursery school: eeny, meeny, miney, mo really works.

I know I can't say that without telling, so here it is: raw score: 137. Not fucking bad, if I do say so myself. Scaled score: 147.4, meaning that the scale wasn't even as huge as I anticipated it would be. If anyone wants to post their score differential in the comments (anonymously of course), I'd be interested.

Back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Great success! High five!

2006-11-14T09:49:00.000-05:00

I passed! I don't have to commit hara kiri under my desk!! Whew. More on that later.

UPDATE
Would I appreciate this feeling quite as much if the test hadn't been so impossible? I don't know, and at this point, I don't really care. I'm so happy that it's hard to try to impose restrictions or qualifiers on my happiness. I had truly convinced myself that I had failed (see below) and so it is really a great feeling to know that I didn't. I recommend it. I can't even wish that people I don't like failed (we-e-eelll...except maybe one or two, readers who've been with me for a long time may remember the now deleted Bride of Chuckie post).

Overall, I am thrilled that I don't have to stay in a temp job forever, and also thrilled that I don't ever have to go through that miserable, lonely, expensive, and boring hell again. I hope that all of you who took the bar, or will take the bar, get to experience the same feeling too.

Additionally I am waiting for my MBE scores anxiously...not because they really matter, although I would like to waive into DC, but more because I am truly curious about the spread between the raw score and the scaled. I imagine it will be huge.

Live blogging the last work afternoon in the dark

2006-11-13T18:40:00.000-05:00

2:30 This is insufferable, I need to go home

2:32 Cookies would probably help

2:36 Maybe sour cream and onion Ruffles would help too. Do I get the 99 cent bag or the 50 cent bag?

2:37 99 cent. Definitely

2:38 They don't have my damn cookies! May as well go for the chocolate delight chocolate chunk kind.

2:39 Maybe if I ask for my receipt, the guy will think I'm buying snacks for the whole group

2:40 He just smiled patronizingly and said, "Enjooooooooy!" Oh well

2:43 Back at my desk, hid the cookies in a drawer and about to dive into the SC & O

2:47 That was good. But I think a cookie would probably be a good idea too

2:48 These cookies are a little dry, maybe I should be dunking them in coffee

2:55 My stomach hurts. Again

2:56 Should probably work

3:09 found hilarious typo: "you have duly qualified" reads instead "you have dully qualified." Hehehehehehhe

3:14 Achoo! Great, I am making myself sick with stress

3:17 People keep emailing me asking my advice on things. Ha - good luck with that!

3:24 I kind of want to vomit

3:28 This eye twitch is really getting old

3:29 I can't believe this will really be over in less than 24 hours

3:38 Jerk friend of mine IMs to say, "THEIR OUT!!!!" I know he is lying b/c I just checked. And I corrected him on his incorrect usage of the word "they're"

3:49 Is it stupid if I look at last year's bar exam results and see people I know are dumber than me who passed?

3:55 Yes. That was stupid. Just b/c ____ passed doesn't mean I will. Now I will feel even dumber if I don't. If that is even possible.

3:56 But hey there's only an hour before I can leave! Maybe that wasn't such a bad usage of my time after all.

3:57 Same friend offers to "photocopy his junk" and mail it to me for the low, low price of $.64, the cost of a stamp and a photocopy. Who the hell am I friends with?

4:08 3 people w/my last name passed last year. Pretty good.

4:15 Is anyone going to enjoy reading this? I'm getting on my own nerves at this point.

4:39 This is the slowest fucking day EVER!!!

4:54 I AM OUTTA HERE!

Insanity ensues

2006-11-11T21:58:00.000-05:00

In furtherance of my goal of crying at work, I checked the NY bar exam website every single day last week until Thursday, when I saw the words I dreaded scrolling across the bottom: "The July 2006 bar exam results will be available here for candidate lookup on Tuesday November 14 at 9AM . . . The general passing list will be available on Thursday November 16 at 9AM . . . "

I nearly puked on my keyboard. Instead, I made an effort to compose myself and commenced the long and arduous process of waiting without indulging myself in the nervous breakdown that has bubbled not so far below the surface ever since.

I offer for your consideration an email exchange from last Thursday with W, a friend since first year:

Me: Oh help, they just posted that the bar results are coming out on Tuesday. Tell me everything will be okay??

W: yeah, I just vomited in my urine. [My boss] sent out an e-mail telling every new attorney...there goes any work for five days. I think of it as that I have failed and passing will be a pleasant surprise. Is it my fault that I don't know common law arson...hmmm! is it!

Me: On the upside, I will def lose 5 lbs like I wanted to, since the only thing my stomach is accepting lately is mint tea. I have also developed an eye twitch, is it me or did I used to handle pressure better?
I still like you even though you don't know common law arson.

W: eye twitch...i remember vividly when it first occured, end of fall semester, 1st year. Then 3rd year, then bar. My stomach has become liquid.. I think I need a diaper. This is shitty pressure because you can't do anything to change the outcome. If I fail, I'm quitting, I don't want to be a lawyer badly enough to take that test again. I will enlist, go to Iraq and chill the fuck out.

Me: Enlisting is actually the perfect solution...can they find me in Iraq to extradite me for my student loans? What if I move to a kibbutz and change my name, Malka or something, they can't get me right? I also don't want to take it again. I'd rather be named Malka than do it again and that is really saying something!!

W: by driving trucks in Iraq , all my pay would go to loans so if i do make it back I can begin anew...maybe I will become a law school psychologist

Me: Do you have the day off tomorrow? [Mutual friend] was just bragging about that to me. I should sort of just give up and go home today, I can't think, I am upset and no one understands, they keep saying, "What, there's nothing you can do! Relax!" RELAX? RELAX? RELAX???!>!>!?!?!?!?

Being a law school psychologist is a good idea, except then you have to hang out in a law school

W: yeah I have off tomorrow, but I hacve a ton of stuff to do so it doesn't mean I won't come in. You can't do anything, they are right, just put it out of your head....look at myspace or write a poem or go on a shooting spree...just do something

Me: How about binge drinking?

W: I'm not nervous...I'm very uncomfortable...and when I get uncomfortable I do stupid things like look at [ex girlfriend]'s myspace and friendster pages....I have been so good. Fucking BAr exam!

Me: I understand, shit like this sets you back. I myself want to curl up in the fetal position and cry for hours until someone picks me up and pats my back, but I'll settle for drinking some whiskey later, and then maybe vomiting.

Pumpkin

2006-11-07T20:48:00.000-05:00

This is kind of sad, but some of you may remember a post from quite awhile back where I expressed jealousy that a girl I knew from school, C, had landed herself a rich boyfriend who whisked her off, fairy tale style, offering to support her and indulge her every whim. I was jealous because I wanted someone to make my obligations disappear, to take my problems in hand and wave that wand and just dismiss them. It seemed like she was living the dream and it was a huge thorn in my side.

This morning I was on my way to the office when I spotted a familiar face from across the street. There was C, listening to her iPod, wearing business clothes in midtown Manhattan. What the fuck? I thought she was in a sunny foreign land, getting manicures and blowouts, and working part-time for an art gallery or something. But no. Turns out the dream went south and the prince dumped her for no apparent reason while she was studying for the bar exam. With no job, no place to live, and a huge bill from BarBri's home study program.

Maybe self-sufficiency is, in fact, the better route.

On stress

2006-11-06T20:32:00.000-05:00

In a German class I took in college, my professor told us a story that has stayed with me, even as 95% of the German I learned has disappeared. She attended her five-year-old niece's birthday party in Cologne, a large affair in her sister's backyard complete with clowns, cakes, gifts, a pink theme, etc., everything a little girl could want. At the end of the party, my professor asked her niece, "Did you have a good time at your party?"

"Ja," the little girl replied seriously, "aber es war so stressig!"*

I have been stressed before. I didn't handle law school very well, and I didn't handle studying for the bar terribly well either. But this has got to be a record. Never before, for example, have I had an eye twitch. It is really that bad. And it's not just waiting for the bar, although that's definitely the major thing on my list. There's a few other choice scenarios to stress me out, like:

- Thanksgiving (which I am preparing), when my mother will meet my boyfriend's parents for the first time
- Anytime I speak to my mother
- My continuing health insurance debacle, thanks to the diligent efforts of my father, who is too busy to get in touch with the appropriate people, but not too busy to buy a Lexus or go on a cruise to Aruba
- Etc., etc., etc.

The upshot is that I am enmeshed in all these situations I cannot control, and there's nothing for me to lean on anymore. In college, I would have dealt with (and did deal with) similar issues by getting shitfaced and vomiting my problems away. I'm a little too old for that now and so I have really had to try to find more efficient means of dealing with what ails me. I do very much enjoy cooking as stress relief, but I'm not sure that will cut it. The Borat movie helped (go see it), and Netflix isn't bad either, a little escapism can be a good thing. I mean honestly, whoever decided denial is unhealthy had it totally backwards. Too much talking about and analyzing turns you into an obsessive freak who loses the forest for the trees...I think that pretending like you don't have any problems when you do is far and away the best coping mechanism out there. Plus it's a lot less likely to drive your friends away, unless they are your Internet friends, in which case they are more likely to continue to read your blog. I have noticed that when I'm in a good mood and post accordingly, nobody comments. So to everyone who reads this, and please know that I love it that you do, be prepared for the next couple of weeks to be full of bitching, complaining, and the written equivalent of about three eye twitches per minute. I hope you enjoy it because I sure as hell am not! (Well, I enjoy writing about it, but I'm wound so tightly right now that I threatened to call the Better Business Bureau on no fewer than three companies last week. No joke, but I do love my new Moto Razr!)

*"Yes, but it was so stressful!"

A girl walked into a bar: ouch

2006-10-31T23:47:00.000-05:00

It's almost November and that can only mean one thing: the bar results will soon be here. The date could be as soon as two weeks from now, according to BarBri! I'm not excited. You could say that I'm nervous, but that would be something of an understatement. I'm terrified.

My mom always says it wouldn't be the end of the world, but I'm pretty confident that it would. First, there's the embarrassment. The list is so public that everyone who's ever wished me ill will be able to see that I failed, and I don't want to give anyone that satisfaction. Enemies aside, it will be impossible to talk to people for at least a year, because everyone will feel sorry for me. It would be like hanging out in the law review office, for a whoooooole year. Sure sounds like the end of the world to me!

Then, there's the job thing. My job is contingent upon passing the bar. I wouldn't get to start it until next September or something like that. That's obviously unworkable, but try finding a job once bar results have come out and you failed. I can only imagine what that might be like: third year's job search, but worse. Sounds fun!

Finally, there's the money problem. I'd need all of February to study, and thus I wouldn't be able to work. I'm pretty sure my parents are not willing to subsidize another trip down BarBri lane, plus all the incidentals of bar studying (take out, bills, shopping binges to remind myself that life still has pleasure in it, and so on). Studying is horrible for many reasons, but mainly it's just really expensive (and it made me sort of fatter). I have no idea how I'd do it again, and I'd rather not think about it.

I know that the odds are in my favor. But after the way I felt after the MBE . . . statistics just seem like meaningless numbers. I can only hope that it will be a repeat of tests like my NY CPLR final, where I walked out certain that I had bombed but did well. What can I say? There wasn't usually a link between my grades in law school and the way I felt on the way out of the exam room, and I can only continue to hope and pray that the same will hold true for this final law exam.

I say final because if I do fail, I don't really that I want to go through it again. There's got to be another career out there for me that law school prepared me for that doesn't require the bar. I mean, I can't think what it might be, but it's got to be out there somewhere.

The quarter-century blues

2006-10-24T20:55:00.000-04:00

I had a birthday recently and am now the ripe old age of 25. I felt okay about it because I was happy about what I have accomplished so far. Yeah, I mean, everyone goes to law school lately, but it still is one more grad degree than my friends from the summer camp some called college I attended freshman year have. (In fact, I may have one more bachelor's degree than some of them, but I digress.) Yeah, I graduated from a decent college, went to a piece of shit law school, and now I am kind of a lawyer. I also have my own apartment, have a wonderful boyfriend who seems to like me despite having put up with me for three years (give or take), friends who call me on occasion, and two cats who worship the ground I walk on. I've been to Europe three times and Israel once. I've seen the Eiffel Tower and attended a taping of a talk show. I have paid taxes and purchased approximately one hundred and fifty pairs of shoes over my lifetime.

I have a Life. I have Done Things. I am still young.

Or so I thought until I saw that certain commercial for one of those CDs on TV. You know, the compilations of crap, sometimes fun crap, but always old crap. "Sittin' on the Dock of a Bay," "S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT," "You've Got a Friend." The one thing that unites such songs is that they came out before I was born, or at least before I was old enough to pay attention to Lite FM. Imagine my surprise when I saw that the CD in question was called Buzz Ballads. Buzz? In other words, songs that came out when I was at a sufficient age to form an opinion about them. In many cases, I was old enough that I now have crystal-clear memories about the songs and when they came out.

This CD contains such hits as "Lightning Crashes" by Live, which came out when I was in maybe ninth grade. I remember walking around my neighborhood listening to their album on my walkman, and feeling uncomfortable that one song gave Hitler a shout-out. Three guys in that band are named Chad and they are from Pennsylvania. One of my friends in ninth grade supposedly lost her virginity to the song "Glycerine" by Bush on repeat on someone's stereo at a house party, which sounds like the most annoying way to be introduced to sex that I've ever heard of, and I remain convinced that she was lying. The video for "Runaway Train" by Soul Asylum was on VH1 every ten minutes the summer I was twelve. I was in the Hamptons at a family friend's house and one day fell asleep on my stomach without putting sunscreen on my back. I spent three days beached on a couch with only a remote control, an ice pack, and Lidocaine for company. I saw Toad the Wet Sprocket open for someone, can't remember who, when I was thirteen. I called Stabbing Westward poseurs. I worshipped Courtney Love.

Seeing these bands sold on TV, on a CD referencing these songs as ballads, makes me feel all wrong. In an age when black fishnet stockings are sold at Banana Republic, what has become of youth culture? And when did I start rolling my eyes at it? In sum, when did I get so . . . old?

R-E-S-P-E-C-T-!

2006-10-15T22:01:00.000-04:00

I have discovered the key to life: working in the legal department of a company.

The hours are good, the pay is decent (if you're not a temp), but the best part is the hero worship. I swear, the people at my company won't so much as go to the bathroom without asking legal to sign off on it first. And even though I'm not admitted, and I'm pretty much a paralegal there, they consider me and my opinion good enough.

And really, why not? I went to law school. I know things. I may not always know the answers to their questions, but I can usually sound confident enough to rattle off some bullshit, and then I can just look it up and correct them if I was wrong. And somehow, I have found that my instincts are usually right. This is really a huge confidence booster and makes me realize how much better it is to work than to be in law school. In law school, people are always trying to make you feel dumb and/or inadequate. In my company, I get respect. I get props, and it's absolutely wonderful. It makes me remember why I went to law school in the first place.

Okay, so I'm getting paid peanuts, and I may never earn the kind of money I anticipated earning when I signed up for all this nonsense. But the feeling of respect I get from everyone at the company is just such a refreshing change that I am almost glad these days that I decided to become a lawyer (or almost-lawyer). I never, ever felt that way at a firm.

I think that it is a sad comment on the usual practice of law that it takes working outside the usual legal paradigm to be pleased with my choice. I am happy at work and enjoy my responsibilities, and busy days are much better for me than empty ones. I like what I do well enough, but mainly I enjoy being taken seriously. It's a nice change, and I hope it stays that way.

Columbia unbecoming, again

2006-10-08T23:11:00.000-04:00

Ah, free speech. One of the things most lauded about our wonderful country. Anyone can say anything they want, as long as it's not yelling "Fire!" in a crowded theater, or saying, "Hi, Jack!" on a plane. Yes, it's really wonderful how the Bill of Rights permits us to live freely without fear of getting lynched for our beliefs.

Unless, of course, those beliefs happen to contravene the mainstream. Funny, isn't it, how mainstream is such a relative term. Perhaps being against illegal immigration is a view commonly espoused here in the USA, but apparently those up in their ivory tower at Columbia are in favor of illegal immigration. And really, why not? When they leave, most will go work for major corporations or go to law school, and the illegals will never challenge their job at Goldman Sachs. They are safe from their own beliefs, insulated in their own privilege. Eventually, though, they will lose the liberal thing, probably once they have to pay their own bills. But before that, they get to believe in whatever they want. It's beautiful, really.

It's beautiful unless you are opposed to assault and/or battery. Because the way I was taught about free speech in my civics classes, all viewpoints were supposed to be fair game. People were supposed to listen to each other. At a minimum, people were supposed to let each other speak without fear of physical violence.

I may or may not approve of what the Minutemen do - but I think it's a huge disgrace that the people who are supposed to believe in our basic rights would behave this way when confronted with viewpoints that differ from their own. But I guess it's not news that free speech isn't really what it was cracked up to be. It's always been used as a way to keep opposing viewpoints down, and I think it's kind of funny that the liberals at Columbia are now the oppressors.

I guess those impossibly high admissions standards aren't high enough.

The money pit

2006-10-03T18:50:00.000-04:00

I knew today had gone too well. It was a beautiful morning, just chilly enough to make me appreciate my nice fluffy comforter. But I woke myself up, selected an outfit, and listened to the radio while I packed a lunch. I remembered to bring some single-serving prepackaged oatmeal for breakfast, and treated myself to a cup of coffee while walking to the train, and enjoyed my short, not-too-taxing commute. I had a productive, busy day, during which I worked reasonably hard, reduced the pile of crap on my desk down to a couple of small projects, and was even praised by my boss a couple of times for my good work. I left a half hour late, which was great because I am paid by the hour. And then I got home.

To a flood.

I love my apartment, not only because it is free but also because it is beautiful. It is also quite old, and has its, shall we say, quirks. This fine afternoon, I walked in to a chorus of angry mewing. That is pretty common, because while I have happily adjusted to my working life, my cats are still angry with me for not staying with them all day anymore. Then I saw the dirty pawprints all over the kitchen floor (which I had just mopped) and knew something was wrong. Last year, around this time, the same exact thing happened. I think I may have made some politically incorrect jokes about Hurricane Katrina visiting my living room, and payback is definitely a bitch. Cause here it is again baby! and the plumber ain't coming 'til Friday.

So now my living room smells like asbestos, my cats have wet paws, there are wet disgusting towels dripping dry in my just-cleaned bathroom, and I have to change buckets of filthy brown water everytime my inconsiderate upstairs neighbors decide to shower (because even though they know that it floods my apartment when they shower, personal cleanliness apparently overrides consideration, since they've been at it since I got home an hour ago). Awesome. I thought Europeans didn't shower.

I knew today had gone too well.

Richie, Benedict, and moi

2006-09-20T00:32:00.000-04:00

Okay, I'm really tired and should go to bed but first I must comment about Michiko Kakutani's review of Richard Posner's new book "Not A Suicide Pact: the Constitution in a Time of National Emergency" that appeared today in the New York Times. (Honestly I don't know why I even read the New York Times anymore since each time I do, I come away angry and frustrated, but there it is and here I am, so.)

First, I would like to just point out the silliness of having a non-lawyer review what is, in essence, a law book. Maybe it's not a casebook or a hornbook, but the fact is that to truly understand constitutional law, you need to have attended those fun first year Con Law I lectures, and you probably need Con Law 2 as well. Some upper-level seminars would be nice, too, because let's face it: constitutional law is difficult, and even though I have taken a number of classes on the subject and find it fascinating, I don't always find it accessible. At a bare minimum, advanced coursework in political science would be nice. So to have Ms. Kakutani (who may be well-versed in liberal rhetoric and may have gone to Yale, but clearly doesn't know jack about con law) to review the book is like asking me to review a book on electrical engineering.

What amused me most about the review is that she is more than happy to call attention to Judge Posner's so-called hypocrisy but is too blinded by political correctness or some other liberal diesease to see her own. For example, she believes it to be hypocritical to call for increased surveillance of terrorists without wiretaps, but decreased interference by the media when it comes to both personal privacy and matters of national security. I have already addressed my opinion on that particular issue, and I stand firm on it. There is absolutely no hypocrisy in wanting the government to be able to protect its citizens without being sold out at every turn by a violently anti-establishment media.

There is, however, great hypocrisy in arguing that when it comes to privacy and national security, the Constitution is a firm document with no loopholes and which is not subject to interpretation, but when it comes to individual rights, it's totally negotiable. Which is it? Because Ms. Kakutani's line of reasoning places her, hilariously in my opinion, right there in bed with my personal favorite jurist, Justice Antonin Scalia, and his whole "framer's intent" hangup. Let's consider: if the Framers were to consider the issues of abortion, contraception, gay marriage, the "zone of privacy" that permits homosexual sodomy, etc., how do we think they would have felt? I'm going to go ahead and guess that they might have been just a little bit surprised that the Constitution they wrote for this country has been interpreted to allow for some of these things. I'm definitely not saying that it shouldn't have been - and shouldn't further be - I am merely saying that the Constitution is more than silent on these issues. But if the Framers were also to be asked whether they meant the Constitution to tie the hands of the government when it comes to the lives of its citizens and the government's ability to protect them, I'm pretty sure again what their answer would be. Just as Judge Posner has suggested, it is ludicrous to suggest that they anticipated that the Constitution would ever be a hindrance to saving this country from an enemy so determined, so capable, and so fucking sick in the head that it would put a liquid explosive in a baby bottle in order to smuggle it onto an aircraft -- well, I'm personally left speechless.

Politics does indeed make for strange bedfellows. Michiko Kakutani and Justice Scalia; me and the Pope (and Richard Posner). How truly bizarre.

In it for the money

2006-09-17T22:36:00.000-04:00

One thing people say that has always struck me as absurd to the point of hilarity is when they look you in the eye and say on the subject of a job: "But of course, you're not doing it for the money."

Funny - I didn't know everyone was independently wealthy. I always believed that people went to professional schools and then got jobs in order to support themselves and their families, but I guess that's not what it's about. I guess what it's really about is the intellectual glory of doing document review. I mean, nothing is more challenging, satisfying, and overall life-affirming than making sure the paralegal input your changes. Which, of course, she didn't, so you then have to make them again. And maybe again. I don't know about you, but man, does that make me feel smart. It's pretty much all I need from life, and a paycheck is obviously peripheral.

It's just so weird. I thought that now that I am done with law school, the internship charade would end. I thought that people would understand that other people have bills, loans, lifestyle goals, shoes to buy, etc. But still, I hear this nonsense. So let me be clear: I am in it for the money. I want to enjoy my job, clearly, and I want to take pride in what I do and derive some kind of intellectual satisfaction from it. Naturally. But at the end of the day, I am working because I need to, and I went to law school because I wanted to make a decent living and not have to rely upon other people for the rest of my life. So if that makes me a base, shallow person, then I guess I am. But one day, I'll be a base, shallow person who is completely self-sustaining and I think there is more pride to that than taking money from one's family forever.

She works hard for the money

2006-09-13T20:24:00.000-04:00

Well the day had to come and here it is. I have someplace to go in the morning, I have a new reason to go shopping, I am finally going to get a paycheck one day, and I'm back to being happily sleep-deprived. Obviously I'm not going to talk about where I'm working, even though it is temporary, and even though there are some serious characters I'd love to discuss, like, for example, Michael Jackson lady, Sweet-But-Dumb 1, Sweet-But-Dumb 2, Jersey Trash, and the Defensive Middle Manager. Instead, I'll just say that I quite like it and I am so much happier now that I'm no longer a porch monkey.

(Not that I have a porch, but you know.)

One thing I've noticed is that since I last had somewhere to go in business casual clothing, styles have changed a lot. The new skirts that ladies wear to work are belted in a completely different part of the body. Last time I wore a belt, it went around my hips but that is no longer done, apparently. I just found out that I have a waist, and I'm really enjoying it. Who knew?

I've also discovered the joys of bringing my own lunch to work. This is partly a function of my complete and total insolvency but either way, it's kind of nice to come in with a gourmet tomato & balsamic salad and a sandwich just the way I like it. Plus that's $50 a week, give or take, that I just don't have to charge to my mother. I'm sure she appreciates it.

On a different note, I am watching "Without A Trace" which is sort of a bad show but addictive nonetheless. This episode, however, is chock-full of both people with fake Romanian accents and alumni of "Dead Man on Campus." Remember that movie? If not, go rent it, because Zack Morris is totally hilarious in it. So both the crazy frat guy and Josh's love interest, Rachel, are in the episode, which is quite amusing. I wonder if they stayed friends.

I want my MTV

2006-09-02T16:47:00.000-04:00

This weekend, I watched the Video Music Awards on MTV for the first time in a couple years. Boredom will do that to you. What shocked me most was not how bad most of the music nominated was. I was also prepared for the fact that I had never seen a single one of these videos. Calling it the "Video" Music Awards is kind of a joke at this point, since everyone knows that MTV doesn't play videos anymore. In a sense it's kind of like the Radio Music Awards, because that's the only place these songs are actually getting played. Video killed the radio star and then somehow died itself, being replaced again, magically, by radio. How meta. But I digress.

What was really surprising to me was how old I felt watching the VMAs. When did it become obligatory for dudes in rock bands to wear black eyeliner? Why was Jordan Catalano himself wearing eyeliner?? How come I've never heard "Dani California" by the RHCP before today? People still think Jack Black is funny? When did the Killers start singing over piano? What is Jack White doing onstage being a sideshow for Jack Black's "humor?" And what on earth is the visual imagery in the video for "I Write Sins Not Tragedies" by Panic! at the Disco supposed to represent?

Obviously I am showing my age here. I can remember Kurt Cobain singing "Lithium" at the VMAs, and I can remember shows like "Headbanger's Ball," "Yo! MTV Raps," and "120 Minutes." I still have on tape the "120 Minutes 10th Anniversary" special from, oh, 1994? 1995? Does anyone besides me even remember what "120 Minutes" actually was?

Music has always been an important part of my life. Lately it has been much less so. I usually blame that on the state of modern music, but I think MTV is partly to blame for this too. Ever since they shifted formats from showcasing new music to showcasing blond idiots I lost my easy access to finding out about good new bands. I enjoy "Laguna Beach" as much as, if not more than, the next guy. But why must the "reality" shows and portrayals of guys who allow lobsters to bite their tongues for fun preempt the good work MTV used to do? I used to sneak out of bed to watch my favorite video show on MTV, which aired Sundays at midnight, and I'd learn about new bands that way. I'd write down the videos I liked and go buy the CDs the next day. Hell, this was so long ago I might have bought the tapes the night day. I learned about some of my favorite bands in this way. And now what? I may have learned a fair amount about the real Orange County, but now where am I supposed to go for music? I know there are sources out there, but where? MTV: come back!!

Cry me a river

2006-09-02T14:58:00.000-04:00

I am easily offended when it comes to certain subjects: the Middle East, my family, religion, and big law firms' desperate search for candidates. No wonder, then, that this New York Times article made me want to punch a wall. No, it wasn't the brunette in the Legally Blonde suit holding out her BlackBerry defiantly, being so important she must check her e-mail even during a photo shoot. It wasn't the mention of the firm with whom I had the single most traumatic interview of my life. It was this:

Most firms followed suit [in raising the starting salary from $125,000 to $145,000] because they compete for the same law students, and also need to stanch attrition of their current associates. Hiring has become particularly competitive because of expanding practices in corporate law, litigation and bankruptcy.

William V. Fogg, one of the partners responsible for recruiting and hiring at Cravath, Swaine & Moore, said that “law firms are getting bigger at a faster rate than law schools,” creating a growing demand for lawyers and commensurate salary increases.

Boy, what a fucking tragedy!! I feel so bad for these firms. They just can't find candidates.

Which universe are they living in? I did OCI at the beginning of my second year. Now, when I say I "did OCI," it means I had two interviews, both of which were courtesies, and I observed the law review d-bags walking around in suits with full interview schedules poking out of their leather folders. "I have Weil at 10:15 and Willkie at 10:40, am I going to have time to review my notes in between? Ugh! This is so frustrating!" I was depressed about the whole thing, knew I wasn't going to get any callbacks, which I didn't, and knew I had wasted the $5 I had just spent on stockings. And I was one of the lucky ones, because with my grades, I shouldn't have had any interviews at all.

This is clearly way too obvious a solution for people like Mr. Fogg, but if you are only willing to interview 4 people, you kind of can't complain about why there are no candidates. The problem is that you have antiquated standards, and you believe that grades and LSAT scores are the only worthwhile predictor of performance as a lawyer. I don't dispute that they are a predictor. While I firmly believe that they are unrelated to intelligence, first-year grades will show which people are willing to have no life, work around the clock, and skip relatives' funerals (this really happened). So go ahead, snap 'em up, but keep in mind that these are also the people who will be burnt out by the time they start to work, and can keep it up no longer than two or three years. Then they will jump ship and go work for a mid-size firm, or go in-house, or whatever, anything to get out of there.

Many of the people I know who didn't make law review from my school often worked harder, were smarter, and overall less excruciating to be around than the law review people. Why didn't they make law review? I don't know. Numbers, I guess, only ten percent can and we all know that going in. Does that mean the other ninety percent are worthless and couldn't hack it in a law firm? It just can't be the case.

What's the solution? What are other predictors? How can you weed out the people who are smart and who will succeed from those who won't? I don't know. I don't have all the answers. But it's kind of not my job to figure that out. William V. Fogg and counterparts, it is your job. The problem isn't that law schools aren't putting out enough lawyers to supply your departments. The problem is that you will only interview from a very limited number of schools, and only a very limited number of people from those schools. Trust me, the people are there and they are willing to work for you. It's time to pull your head out your ass and look around at the new legal landscape. Things have changed and it's just going to keep costing you more and more money to keep doing things the old way.

Panic! at the registrar

2006-08-30T15:43:00.000-04:00

Just because I've graduated from my TTT law school does not mean that I am done being screwed over by them. Au contraire.

The long and arduous quest for a reasonable temp job to put an end to my couch-sitting, laundry-doing days led me to a very nice company who provisionally offered me a job. Great! However, the job was subject to a background check. I have no idea what they want to know about my character and "mode of living," as the FCRA disclosure paperwork ominously suggested, but since I don't have any real skeletons in my closet I was not afraid. I mean, there was that time I beat the shit out of this girl in my second-grade class. My mom came to pick me up from school and apparently I had beat her into submission down on the pavement in the playground and I was mercilessly kicking her, but she totally deserved it and I'm sure any real investigator would be able to figure that out pretty quickly (as a serious ass-beating is a reasonable response to "four eyes!").

That aside, I return my library books on time, feed and brush my cats, don't steal, and am generally a law-abiding citizen. Turns out the biggest problem had nothing to do with me or anything I have ever done wrong. The investigators were having some difficulty verifying that I actually graduated from the shithouse on my resume.

Now, I have considered lying about it and saying I went to NYU or otherwise denying that I went there, but the sad fact is that I did. I'm depressed about it, but it's true - trust me, I wish it weren't. Apparently, so do they.

The investigator called them to ask for proof. They said that she had to put her request in writing and fax it in. She did. No reply. She called back. They said, oh, fax it to this number instead. She did. And? You guessed it - no reply. So she called me, and asked if I could take a photograph of my diploma and e-mail it to her.

Ooooookay. No problem. Meanwhile, time goes by, so slowly, for those who wait, as Madonna so eloquently stated. I took the bar over a month ago, am totally sick of sitting around my neighborhood waiting for someone to send me a fucking paycheck, and so I am skipping town and going to visit some friends from college for the long weekend. I am leaving tomorrow. Maybe by the time I get back, I'll have somewhere to go in the mornings besides back to sleep.

A modest proposal

2006-08-28T13:56:00.000-04:00

Last night, my boyfriend permitted me a never-before granted luxury: we went through people's Friendster profiles and photographs and mocked them. I mean, we really got into it, he let me run my nasty mouth as much as I wanted, no censorship, no "be nice," we just laughed and laughed at the appalling scene before us. It was almost as good as looking at wedding websites.

One girl in particular always cracks me up. She posts new photographs of herself every time she goes out drinking. Everytime I log into Friendster, there are new pictures of her holding a martini glass filled with a pink liquid, wearing an expensive-yet-slutty tank top and short skirt, with her arms around either a bunch of straight-haired, orange-skinned girl-clones or guys in matching button-down shirts who use lots of hair gel. Their white teeth gleam in the light of the flash, as they smile their faces off for the camera. It's enough to make me wish that digital camera technology had been reserved for NASA and kept from the stupid, stupid public.

"Ohmygawd, it's Lara, Dara, Farrah, Sara, and Mara!" I cried as a group of girls from Long Island with ugly faces, tan skin, and hard bodies hugged each other smiling desperately. "OMG. Jared is sooooo cuuuuuute!"

All this wanton JAPpery got me thinking. Why do these people all come out just like each other? What is it about Roslyn, Bellmore, Jericho, Manhasset Hills, etc. (although New Jersey, I am looking at you too) that produces people who care about shopping, sports, status, and not much else? Well, I came to a few conclusions and I would, of course, be honored to humbly present them to you:

1. Moms, don't take your small daughters to get their nails done. No five-year-old on earth needs hot pink nail polish, and if she goes to a respectable school, they will make her take it off anyway. It's a waste of money, but even worse, it plants the wrong ideas about the world in her impressionable little head. She will see others as there to serve and admire her, and she will consider being pampered an entitlement similar to breathing air or interstate travel. Last time I checked, the Constitution does not provide for the right to "square-or-round-shape" nails. Just get a babysitter - it will cost the same as her manicure, and besides, you probably have a full-time nanny even though you don't work.

2. Dads, don't only bond with your sons over football. There are other ways for men to relate to one another, and some of them actually involve thinking and/or talking. Just because you are sitting next to each other on the couch does not mean that anything meaningful is happening. Instead, the little boy will grow up unhealthily attached to statistics and the memories of certain awesome games, and he will use this to bond with his friends. Then they will mimic what you did, and they will have game night parties, in which they will yell at the TV, ignore the girls who are there solely to bring them beer, chips, and have their asses slapped - just like their mom when they were kids!

3. Don't teach your kids that their religion only means going to "temple" on High Holidays, eating Chinese food on Christmas, saying "oy vey!" and knowing how to shop. There are over 5,000 beautiful years of history and tradition that came before Long Island, and they can maybe teach you a thing or two about how to raise children. For example, that a girl going out drunk and practically naked in the hope of attracting guys is not such a good idea. Just a thought.

4. There are more than 4 acceptable professions for guys. Nowhere is it written that thou shalt become a doctor, lawyer, banker, or accountant. And ladies, don't become a teacher if you have no desire to impart knowledge to the next generation and you are just waiting to get married. Giving them a dissertation on how you blow-dry your hair on a day when you don't feel like teaching, while fascinating, is not what their parents pay tuition for (see, e.g. my 11th grade precal teacher).

5. I'd go off on sororities here, but I'm sure somewhere in the world there are one or two that might build character, friendships, and networking possibilities. Suffice it to say that none of the sororities at my school fit that description, unless you count merciless hazing, belittling, and name-calling as friendship. Just because you are standing in a row wearing matching t-shirts snapping your fingers and singing songs about how close you are doesn't make you close, or even friends.

That's enough vitriol for now, yes?

Optimism

2006-08-25T12:22:00.000-04:00

One day, this whole legal thing will come easily. One day, I'll have a real job, that I can wake up in the morning, get dressed, brush my hair, and take the subway to. I'll pick up a nice cup of coffee on the way, maybe from Dunkin' Donuts, and sip it on the way, trying not to spill it on my suit. I'll probably fail but I'll be wearing a black suit so it won't show too much. I'll swipe my ID card upon entering my office building, say "Good morning" to the security people (whom I will know by name), and I'll head upstairs to my office. I'll have my own office, or maybe one that I share, but it will be a real office, not a desk in a hallway. It will have my name printed outside on a piece of metal, not written on a piece of paper.

So far it hasn't happened. As the people from better law schools, or who had better grades, or whose parents are big clients get ready to go to start their jobs at firms, I'm still sitting on my ass doing nothing all day. This week I did my own laundry for the first time in two years and three months. This is for two reasons: I've got nothing but time, and I'm slowly running out of money. Make that quickly running out of money. You know things have reached an impasse when I am so bored I will go do my own laundry in a laundromat when it is 90 degrees out.

I've never been able to do things the conventional way. I've always gotten what I want, but it's always come in a non-traditional manner. I went to a private high school, but only after the public one wanted to throw me out. I graduated from a very highly-ranked university, but only after transferring there from an extremely unorthodox institution of "higher learning" (more like a how-late-can-you-sleep-before-you-wake-and-bake contest). And I did get my legal dream job, it just happens to not start until January - and that's assuming I passed the bar, which, as you may recall, I for one am not assuming. So I have all this free time. Which means I need a temp job.

Finding a temp job has been another exercise in banging my head against the wall. Who knew that there would be next to no market for my services? I don't have any legal experience that would get me a job as a temporary attorney, and I don't have any paralegal experience that would get me a high-paying job as a paralegal. I've never heard of most of the programs they want the paralegals to use, and although given I've known paralegals and I can't imagine they are that difficult to learn, no experience means no job. I can't even find a job as a legal secretary. I couldn't even work at Banana Republic because the last time I worked in a clothing store I was 15.

Someday, be it in January or later, I will get my job. I will have a title, I will get a paycheck, and I will not watch "Full House" during the day. After all, things will be different and better in the future. My favorite verse from my favorite psalm, which is said after eating on Shabbat, is:

הזעים בדמעה, ברנה יקצרו

which means, approximately, "those who sow tears will reap joy." Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

In the meantime, Stephanie and Michelle are babysitting a pig, and it's running loose in the Tanner home, so I'd better get back to it.

Here I go again, on my own

2006-08-21T14:59:00.000-04:00

I've complained about my father to people before, and I think sometimes those who are not quite in the know would suspect that I am somehow exaggerating. Children of divorces often retain hostility towards the parent who was "in the wrong," if they're not busy blaming themselves, that is. Such children also go around forming inappropriate relationships, having trust issues and deep emotional scarring only evident after thousands of dollars spent in therapy.

Well, somehow I have risen above much of this. And the anger I feel towards my father? Has nothing to do with the divorce. Not anymore, anyway. Here is a totally typical example of the way he operates:

During law school, I have been on my father's health insurance. About two months before graduation, I called my father to ask him whether my coverage would be affected. He said confidently, "No, you're covered until your next birthday." Okay, great! I can go about my business as usual.

On the day of graduation, my father and I rode the subway to the ceremony together. On the way, he casually mentioned, "Now that I think about it, it occurs to me that your medical coverage will be okay, but your visual and dental will probably end now that you're graduating."

"Really!" I exclaimed. "Funny you should tell me that now, since I asked you about this stuff two months ago and you said I was fine until my next birthday. Weird!"

"Yes. Well, it's just occurred to me," he said.

"So when do you think my dental will end? I have a toothache and I was actually planning on going to the dentist this week."

"Today. It'll end today. I think."

"You think," I repeated. "Well, will you find out and get back to me please?"

"Yes. Sure."

Three times that month, I called him to ask what the deal was since my tooth was really hurting. The first two times he said, "I just have to get through to the insurance rep, give me some time." The third time, in a why-me tone, he said, "I will get back to you."

Fine! Hint taken. I got back to studying for the bar and hoped he would be true to his word.

Nope.

Two weeks before the bar, I got a voicemail. "Hello, it's your father. I am going overseas for three weeks with [dumb wife] and [her spoiled child]. Best of luck on the bar!"

Wow. Not only had he not called me once in the previous month to wish me luck on the bar, he skipped the country without ever finding out what the deal with my insurance was. I was so angry I drafted a hostile email to him, but decided against sending it at the last minute.

When he got back, I spoke to him and told him how much it really hurt me that he had totally abdicated responsibility for my health. I had made it clear to him that I was in pain, and he couldn't be bothered to place a phone call. He replied that he had actually called to find out before he left, but he had forgotten to tell me that he learned that my insurance had ended the day I graduated.

"You forgot to call me? Don't you think that was information I might have liked to have? Don't you think that call was at least as important as the call to the insurance company?"

"Yes, well, my memory's not what it used to be."

"That's why people start writing themselves notes. You know, like, 'Pick up dry cleaning,' 'Call daughter about her health insurance.' People then put those notes in places they will see them, like maybe on their enormous plasma TVs."

Later that week, I had to go meet up with him for his birthday. I looked around for the meanest birthday card I could find, and regretted that Hallmark doesn't make one saying "Happy Birthday! You suck." But I did find the next best thing: a card that said, "Now that you're getting old, you may find yourself needing to write notes!" On the inside of the card were post-it notes saying things like, "Flush," and "Clothes go in the dryer, food goes in the refrigerator."

Upon receiving the card, he visibly turned pale. I knew I had got him. And I felt guilty but I also felt great.

Three days later, he called me and said, "Let me read to you from my policyholders manual." He then read me a perfectly straightforward clause which stated that I am covered until 3 months after fulfilling my graduation requirements.

He had this information the whole time. He just never got around to looking it up until I zinged him with a birthday card.

So, ladies and gentlemen who are still reading, this is why I am anti-dad. This is why I know that whatever I do, I'm doing it on my own and without his help. No exaggeration.