I want to wish all my fellow bar applicants the best of luck, and may the force be with you. I will be taking a little break after the bar to go on vacation to Spring Training. There will be no post-mortem going on here, as the one thing I have learned in this whole process is that post-mortems do nothing but drive me crazy.....and I don't need any more crazy here.
I am holding good thoughts for all of us...;-)
Happy Valentine's Day to me!! Step Up 2: The Streets starts on Thursday! Don't think I'm not going on Thursday - I will be the first one in line for the first show of the day.
Perfect Husband teaches on Thursday nights, so we are celebrating Heart Day, or as I like to call it, Socially Sanctioned Salacious Slut Day, on Friday. (Don't even get me started on those dumb ass hearts that have the cute little sayings on them...who do those actually work for? 13 year olds? Here's what mine would say, "Don't want my heart? Fuck off." "Got Chlamydia?" and my personal fave, "Yes, size does matter." If you are going to make me read candy, it had better damn well be chocolate....but I digress...) Anyhow, I have Thursday all to myself to study and work out and things until Perfect Husband comes home at about 10.
I am not going to be able to stay at home all day and study, knowing that my movie is here, so I am going to the first show to get it out of my system, so hopefully I will be productive after that. My boss would be so thrilled to know what I have planned for my day off on Thursday.
This sucks hard. I am so over it. Over. It. All. I hate this. I am over trying to decide if the defendant can be found guilty of larceny, burglary, embezzlement or false pretenses. I am over it because I really don't give a shit.
I had a nuclear meltdown the other night. I think Perfect Husband was a little afraid. I have no idea what possessed me to go to law school at the age of 30, back in 2002. I graduated in December 2005. It is now February 2008 and I am still not a lawyer. No one wants a paralegal with a law degree and you can't be a lawyer without a license. Rock. Hard spot. Welcome to my life.
People told me it would be an uphill battle to go to law school at night while working full time at a law firm. People told me that the fact that I was older, and had worked in the legal field for some time would work against me. I was stupid enough, or cocky enough, or arrogant enough, to believe that my intelligence and drive would be enough to overcome that. I distinctly remember saying to myself, I am smart, I will just work that much harder and overcome those obstacles. It is appalling how wrong I was. If I had known, back in 2002, that I would be here, now...I never would have done it. I would have gone to beauty school. I would have gone for a Masters. I would have tried to write a book. I would have done anything other than start a 6 year disaster that would result in financial ruin, shattered self esteem and a fat ass.
Plus, I seem to be averaging about 75% on the MBE's I have done so far. Jesus Christ. It sure would be nice if I could do that come February 27.
So, do you think people would read a novel, written my me, entitled Drink.Curse.Hate.?? I can see it now.....
"Drink.Curse.Hate - a tragically funny and touching story of a would-be lawyer and her quest to pass the bar, find the perfect reality TV show and fit into size 8 Gap jeans....the newest addition to the Oprah Book Club - a surefire bestseller ~ The New York Times"
On a brighter note......Lipstick Jungle totally rocks, and kicks Cashmere Mafia's ass.....
10. My closet really needs to be cleaned out.
9. Do not ever buy a house and live on a golf course. You will likely become a hemophiliac to which the rest of the world owes a duty. Because, while sitting on a lounge chair on your porch, you will get hit in the head with an errant golf ball, a negligent ambulance driver will collide with something (most likely a bus full of small children) on the way to the hospital, where a doctor who is high on crack will leave a metal instrument inside you, causing permanent and irreversible brain damage, resulting in your severely diminished earning capacity as a nuclear physicist.
8. I am better at Torts than I am at Real Property.
7. One cup of coffee is not enough.
6. I would rather work than study.
5. Britney is doing much better in the hospital this time around.
4. I would rather work out than study.
3. The new black pants I got at Nordstrom are now too big around the waist. (See #4.)
2. One should always take advantage of one's right to remain silent; if you do not, you will inevitably voluntarily confess to a heinous crime.
1. I should have gone to beauty school.
Dear Blonde Blogger,
Thank you for your recent letter containing suggestions for improving one of our new shows, Cashmere Mafia. While we would like to address all of your concerns in our response, frankly, the list was so exhaustive, we are just going to touch on the ones you specifically marked "Urgent: Must Address Immediately!"
First, while we sympathize with you that the "other show" you love is no longer on the air, unfortunately, since the season has already started, we will not be able to change the character's names to Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha.
Second, to answer your rather pointed question, no, we do not have a problem portraying assistants/secretaries as competent or good looking. Zoey's former assistant is arguably competent, she just makes bad decisions in her personal life, which gleefully resulted in a well-deserved promotion. And Mia's secretary is not fat, she is big-boned. And I am sure, as the legal scholar you proclaim yourself to be, that you are well aware that assistants/secretaries are not, in fact, a protected class, and as such, are not entitled to Constitutional protection. Good luck on the bar exam, by the way.
Third, in an attempt to appeal to the "real sistah's" as you call them, which presumably is the demographic we prefer to call "everyday women," we will take into consideration your suggestion that not every restaurant that the ladies frequent be a white linen, four-star establishment. Yes, there is a Baja Fresh location in Manhattan and we will make every effort to make our characters "real peeps."
Finally, NO, we blatantly refuse to change the name of the show to Polyester Posse. While we promise to work on Caitlin's intermittent Bronx accent, she is not "ghetto," nor are her clothes made of polyester.
We certainly hope we have put some of your concerns to rest and that you will continue to be an avid viewer of Cashmere Mafia. We are not currently looking for a legal consultant and please know that, going forward, any attempts to contact our legal department or enter the building in any manner, will be considered trespassing and we will avail ourselves of all legal remedies.
Thank you,
The People Who Bring You Cashmere Mafia.
Just FYI.....
Testimony given in court by a parrot (that can presumably speak) in court is not admissible.
However....
Behavior by a trained dog (such as a service, drug or cadaver dog) is admissible.
My advice?
Pick your pets wisely.
Just a little nugget to take with you and put in the ol' vault for future use.
10. It's a holiday and I have to work.
9. It is raining.
8. It is cold outside.
7. I feel guilty that I didn't study for the bar this weekend.
6. My boss is IRRITATING THE SHIT OUT OF ME.
5. It is really cold outside.
4. I am so far behind at work, I wish I had never asked for time off.
3. I wore a skirt to work; see #5.
2. I don't want to study tomorrow. (But I will.)
1. Perfect Husband is at home on the couch...without me.
So, in a stunning display of memory retention, focus and consideration, Perfect Husband gifted me with several items that I really, really wanted for Christmas. The first is this really warm and fuzzy blanket that I wanted for our bed from Target. This was especially considerate seeing as how we now have 4 blankets on the bed, in addition to the sheet and the comforter. I am constantly cold and cannot stand to be cold at night, and apparently my husband just deals with it, like the trooper he is.
But the really fun and special gift was dance lessons at a really cute little dance studio near our house. Last night was the first lesson and we decided to learn East Coast Swing. This is the really easy, Playskool version of swing; it’s not like he is gonna be throwing me all around; after all, I am not trying to paralyze the man.
Our instructor was a really nice lady who had clearly been a dance instructor forever. She knew just what to say and how to describe what you need to do. She had a cute outfit on with cute dance shoes. I, myself, was looking pretty fly with a new outfit, my shiny new Mary Janes, and curly hair with a flower behind my ear (in the event we chose a Latin dance.) Perfect Husband was hot in his snappy little outfit as well.
However, while Perfect Husband was congenial and friendly to the instructor, for most of the lesson he looked like Dead Man Walking. He was so serious and so determined to do well, he was either looking at his feet or at the ceiling, in an effort to go down the list of steps and hand movements he had made in his head. I kept smiling at him and laughing just so he would know that we were here to have fun and learn something together and that there would be no test at the end of the evening. I think I saw smoke wafting from his ears, he was concentrating so hard. And believe you me, this is all brought on himself. Its not like I am some control freak that’s gonna go all bunny-boiler on him if he messes up and causes Bruno and Carrie Ann to give us 5’s. It’s all good. I am only a control freak about my own shit. I felt bad for him and was trying to let him know how well he was doing. Until he says:
“You know, the music is really distracting; it is much easier to dance without the music.”
Interesting theory, Chief, seeing as how most of us usually like to dance WHEN THERE IS MUSIC PLAYING.
I think I’m gonna get him drunk next time.
Dear Everyone in the Frickin' Universe,
If you are waiting for an elevator, when it arrives, kindly step away from the doors AND WAIT TILL THE PEOPLE ON SAID ELEVATOR GET THE FUCK OUT BEFORE YOU TRY AND GET IN!!!
I cannot even tell you how blatantly bitchy I have been when this happens to me. I stop, wait, let the people get on, sigh dramatically, press the "door open" button and hold everyone's shit up until I can walk out of the elevator without having to fight my way through the crowd like Britney going to Starbucks.
This is my number one pet peeve in the entire universe. Perfect Husband cringes every time this happens when we are together because he knows I am about to make a scene and possibly expose him, as well as myself, to physical assault.
Parents, forget about "please" and "thank you" and remembering to place a napkin on your lap. Teach your peeps the proper elevator etiquette. It just might save their life. Plus, that will be one less person for me to talk shit about.
Love,
Blonde Blogger
So, my lovely in-laws gave me a gift card to Nordstrom for Christmas. They totally rock. I was thinking a little retail therapy was in order this past weekend. I tried to accomplish this Saturday, seeing as how I was in desperate need of some 4 inch, patent leather Mary Janes at Nordstrom, but alas, Perfect Husband and Perfect Offspring #1 and #2 are not the shoppers I am. For them, it's all about picking out a t-shirt at Hot Topic, buying it, getting a smoothie and heading home. The Offspring especially do not understand how I can look at 5 apparently identical pairs of black pants and not like or buy any of them. Offspring #2, in all her 11 years of infinite wisdom, tells me that leggings are much more comfortable than black slacks. Yes, Poodle, I am sure they are... HOWEVER, my ass has not been in a pair of leggings since the 80's, thank GOD, and I see no reason to promulgate a resurgence of what is likely the most offensive assault on one's senses since babydoll dresses.
Anyhow, after Saturday's debacle at the mall with Perfect Husband (who is under the impression he is an excellent shopping partner, but woefully, is A Trailer...one that trails about 10 paces behind me holding 5 pairs of black pants and pretending to be interested, all the while asking, "Can we go get a drink?" or "Aren't you hungry?") I decide that effective immediately, all retail therapy shall be enjoyed alone, completely bereft of individuals trying to talk me into the Vans with pink penguins on them instead of the 4 inch, patent leather Mary Janes.
With the Offspring and Perfect Husband safely ensconced on the couch with several Tivo'd episodes of Without A Trace, I was off to Nordstrom for some therapy. I went to the Walnut Creek Nordstrom, which is its own kind of special. It draws the crowds from Orinda and Lafayette as well as Alamo and Danville, several upscale areas in Northern California. While these areas are very nice, and have beautiful homes, it is my contention that the more expensive house you buy, the less common sense you are likely to employ in your everyday activities. Maybe I feel that way, because I myself, do not live in a house the size of an airplane hangar.
So, there I am in the shoe department.....the heavens opened up and the angels sang and I was walking around peepin' out how cute the beautiful patent leather Mary Janes look on me, when out of the corner of my eye, I see what appears to be a Rottweiler get up and walk toward me...WTF?!?!?!? WAS THAT JUST A LARGE, BLACK, CARNIVOROUS DOG WALKING TOWARDS ME IN THE SACROSANCT NORDSTROM SHOE DEPARTMENT?!?!?! I almost fell over in my Mary Janes. The owner of said monster looks at me apologetically and says, "Oh, don't worry, she is totally friendly."
Note: While I abhor people like Michael Vick and other animal abusers, I myself am not much of an animal person. I grew up with a plethora of cats and dogs, yet never felt the love. The rest of my family, as well as my in-laws, are the type that hold birthday parties for their pets. When I die, I want to come back as a dog owned by my sister-in-law. Those inmates are running the asylum, fo' sho'.
Another note: Perfect Husband and I often lament the conspicuous lack of leashes or anything else canine in our home, much like we lament the lack of a Peg Perego stroller, as these are the two most likely reasons we will be kicked out of our crazy, SUV lovin' suburb. I keep checking the city council website to ensure "Motion to Evict Blonde Blogger and Perfect Husband For Non-Conformity" doesn't show up on the agenda.
But I digress...
As I quickly retreated back to my chair to avoid the ravenous Rottweiler, I searched frantically for the green jacket. Surely, this animal is a service dog. It must be. But no, there was no green jacket. After she tells me not to be afraid, that she is friendly, and noting the absence of a green jacket I ask, "What is she doing at Nordstrom???" She laughs and says, "Shopping."
Hold the phone, Batman. Now, I am all about the cute little purse dogs walking around on the MAC counter as I sample Viva Glam IV and the newest Paint Pot. But seriously?!?!?! Was there some sort of discrimination action against large department stores that allowed pocket dogs but not their plus-sized counterparts?? WHY is there a BIG ASS DOG in the shoe department?? There is no ascertainable reason for this large, large, large dog to be lounging about in the shoe department. Especially in Walnut Creek. This is the place where housewives wearing $195 Tod's loafers and carrying Brighton bags feed their offspring, likely named "Poet" or "Harlow," homemade, organic babyfood from a Tiffany's spoon in the shoe department, so what did I expect? I buy the beautiful Mary Janes and head upstairs to buy a pair of black pants. (En route, I swing by the MAC counter and drop $100, but that is a whole 'nother post.....)
I find 5 pairs of identical black pants to try on and as I head to the dressing room, I swear to GOD, a woman walks by WITH A BEAGLE. A beagle. Like Snoopy. On a leash, in the Point of View department, on the second floor, at Nordstrom in Walnut Creek. Do I need to get a rabies shot in order to shop at Nordstrom now?!?!?! Is this National Bring Your Big Ass Dog to Nordstrom Day and I didn't get the memo???
I should have gone to Hot Topic.
Ironically, I used Strategies and Tactics for MBE study both times. I totally heart it, not that it helped me all that much, obviously. I bought a copy this time around as well. I also bought a book called Mastering the Multistate Bar Exam. I have downloaded the MBE Annotated Preview 2006 for $26.00, and will probably do that over and over and over again. I still have the red and blue PMBR books and if I feel I need it, I may downloand Adaptibar, although I don't know too much about it. People seem to be really positive about it. I have downloaded and printed all resources on the California Bar website and I still have the Conviser outlines from Barbri and outlines of the new materials that a friend gave me.
Like The Grand Poobah, I was also offered a free account on BarEssays in exchange for a mention on this blog. I have been on there several times, and I must say, I like it. You can search by subject, by bar examination year, by score, and by format (meaning handwritten or typed). For example, if you want to look at Criminal Procedure essays and answers that scored over 65 from the July 2007 examination, you can get them, and compare them to ones that score below 57.5. That is a really useful tool, to be able to compare passing and failing answers on the same essay and I have yet to see this type of comparison offered anywhere else. For handwriters, it might be interesting to compare what constitutes a passing essay to what constitutes a passing typed essay because I bet they look very different. For those of us brilliant individuals who have inexplicably not passed the bar exam, the site offers $50-$65 for a set of essays from the bar exam. This site is a huge collection of essays and answers, and what better to learn from than what the graders actually looked at? I like that the question and the answer links are right next to each other - makes for easy printing.
The price for this site is $75 and the subscription will expire at the conclusion of the next bar examination. This is a lot of bang for your buck. For some reason, I never really had any faith in the answers that Barbri provided; you never knew whether that person passed or not, or what score they received on that particular essay. Correct me if I am wrong, but I don't know of any other site or book where you can review a question as well as its passing answer and know the score that the examiners gave. When I think of the thousands of dollars I have spent in the past on materials that essentially proved useless to me, I wish this site had been around awhile ago. It's worth checking out.
www.baressays.com
So, after several painfully embarrassing conversations and meetings with both of my supervising attorneys, as well as their boss, the EVP and GC of the company, they have decided to let me have the time off that I requested so I can study for the bar exam. I am flummoxed as to why they put me through the paces; I felt compelled to stand up for myself and push back on some of the requests they made of me in return. For instance, in exchange for granting me the the time off to study, they wanted to "see how it goes" in terms of granting me the vacation time for the Spring Training vacation I had planned for March for the Perfect Husband. In response, I told them that no, I would rather not take any time off to study for the bar; it was not acceptable to me to cancel my March vacation, but thanks anyways. I told them that it has been a long time since I graduated law school and I have spent an obscene amount of time and money on the bar and I was certainly not going to let it affect my life to that degree anymore. So, at the end of the day, they agreed that I can have the time off to study, as well as the time off for the vacation in March with my husband.
So, the plan is that I will have Tuesdays and Thursdays off between now and the bar and the three days off for the bar. I will study all day Tuesdays and Thursdays and one day on the weekend. I know some may think this is not enough, but I have to work, at least a little bit. The last time I failed the bar, I was 12 points short; largely due to the MBE's. Accordingly, I will be concetrating primarily on the MBE's, spending two days a week on them and the other day on essays and writing. I am going to spend very little time, if any, on substantive review. Of course, I will review the subject matter outlines that I wrote for the past bar exams, so that random things, like the rule against perpetuities, will be refreshed. I deal with a wide range of issues and areas of law at work, and am hoping that will help me. I also think it's useful that I do real, honest to goodness, substantive writing everyday at work.
So, that's about it. I also have a completely different attitude this time around. I am going to pass. I have paid my dues and it is my turn. I used to think that I might have deserved to fail because of bad things I did or said to people in the past, or bad decisions I made for my family when all the family drama began. The failures were like paying back karma; the karma train was coming back around to get me. Well, the karma train has been back around to run me over more than once and I am done. DONE.
I have had some health issues recently and those seem to be under control now, and my concentration, energy and determination are better than ever. I have no guilt about putting my family drama on hold until at least March and I have no guilt about taking time off from work, even if part of it is unpaid. It is all about me. Me and my BFF, the bar exam. And I am so going to kick her ass.
Well, apparently, she has gone 5150. On a 72 hour lockdown after an extended "showdown" during which she refused to hand over the crumbsnatchers to America's favorite loser, K-Fed. On the parental-fitness scale, though, K-Fed is right up there with Ward Cleaver, compared to Britney, who is knocking herself out channeling Courtney Love.
Look at what a little hottie she used to be. I bet Justin is nekkid somewhere with Jessica Biel, doing a happy dance that Brit kicked his ass to the curb. She appears to be on some sort of sartorial mission to self-implode on the world stage, and Jamie-Lynn seems buckled in for the ride. Maybe I should send Mama Spears an advanced copy of Drink. Curse. Hate. Because if those two fiery train wrecks were my daughters, I would either take up permanent residence in a fantastic place called Denial, or I would maintain a constant state of inebriation.
Seriously, though, I have spent the better part of the last hour reading up on said train wrecks.
WTF????
