Sweaty Bitch in Barbri...

This morning, I was clicking around reading my morning blogs (Thank god I can multi-task like a champ because it is a wonder I get any work done in the mornings; this is why I work till all hours. But really, I am one of those peeps that would go into work at noon and work till 9 p.m. But I digress…..) and I came across a post on Law With Grace entitled Loud Barbri Eater. I almost fell off my chair laughing so hard. I HATE assholes in Barbi, or PMBR or any other torture session/bar review class in which I have been trapped, that act like the lecture is taking place in their kitchen, or living room or some other area where they feel they can act like their mother never taught them any manners. Let me tell you a little story about The Sweaty Bitch in my Barbri class…….

Once upon a time, in a crazy land far away, called Berkeley, I took Barbri. I attended the live lectures during the day. The auditorium was always totally crowded and you had to get there early to get any seat, let alone a good seat. I was carpooling with a friend of mine and we always sat in the same general area. Because I drink about a gallon of water a day in addition to about a gallon of Diet Coke, an aisle seat is imperative.

This being Berkeley, home of the environmentalist as well as home of the non-existent parking space, a lot of people rode their bike to class. Now, I am all about tree-hugging and eco-friendly makeup and hairspray, blah, blah, blah, but it was July and hella much hot outside and of course, there is no air conditioning at Boalt. So, the bike riders would come in ALL SWEATY AND DRIPPING THEIR DISGUSTING BODILY FLUIDS ALL OVER THE PLACE. (Note: for the record, I am slightly germophobic and even if I wasn’t, I have a fairly generous and clearly defined “personal space” that I like to maintain.) Evidently, people who anticipate sweating profusely on a daily basis do not wear a lot of clothing. This is 6 different kinds of wrong. Subsequently, those of us lucky enough to be seated near the Sweating Environmental Visionaries were subjected to the pungent aroma of the Morally Superior as well as their bodily fluids that were flung about willy-nilly on a daily basis.

One of these bike riders would always come into class 10 minutes late, and try to find a seat around me somewhere. Why she chose, EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR THREE DAYS, to find a seat near me, is frankly, just beyond reason. But she did. And every single day, WITHOUT FAIL, SHE WOULD TURN AROUND, GIVE ME DIRTY LOOKS, HOLD HER NOSE, AND BEGIN GESTICULATING WILDLY, INDICATING TO ALL THOSE NEARBY THAT I SMELLED BAD. (Note: It would take a person of average intelligence about 5.2 second to surmise upon meeting me that 1. I am not from Berkeley. 2. I shower on a daily basis.) Since, I knew beyond a reasonable doubt (law school education at work, my friends!) that I did not, in fact, smell bad, I could only conclude that she did not like my perfume.

Picture if you will, barely clothed, smelly, dripping, Sweaty Bitch, WITH HER BIKE HELMUT STILL ON HER FRICKIN’ HEAD, saying I smelled bad?!?!?! Oh. No. She. Di’int.

Every time she turned around, I looked her in the eye and said, “WHAT???” and “IF YOU DON’T LIKE MY PERFUME, SIT YOUR ASS SOMEWHERE ELSE!”

It took 3 days for that dumb bitch to get a clue and sit somewhere else. And that was only after I surreptitiously sprayed her backpack with my little purse sized perfume sprayer thingy that I got as a sample. Smell that, Bitch!!