The Circle of Life

Daughter's tortoise died today. He got left out in the sun too long. Daughter handled this well until she actually saw the dead thing, which brought tears to her eyes. Ah well, lessons in death and what not. I would have preferred it had been the cat, but apparently cats handle heat better than tortoises.

Apologies for lack of substance. (Apology directed mostly to Allison). Things have been slow and I haven't been running at my usual 79%. More juicy law office stuff come Friday.

You Know You're a Little Too Grown Up When....

... your idea of being mischievous is getting off the elevator - and pressing the buttons for all the other floors as you exit alone. You know, just to slow things down.

Man, I am so lame.

In more exciting news, YaY!! Welcome back Sadie (part three, small ear edition)

So Slow

Today is dragging on and on and on.

Nothing very exciting going on.

I was in the ER again this weekend. It took them 6 tries to get an IV in my "squirrly veins." I look like a heroin junky.

BarBri just sent me an email telling me they have shipped my "Replacement" I-Pod. I never had one to replace. I left a message with BarBri. I am taking a pre-emptive strike against them trying to confiscate my deposit.

This is the beginning of my two-day weeks. Tomorrow, I begin my "serious" studying for the bar. Civil Procedure, here I come.

Thursday is Day II of my "serious" studying for the bar. I have doctors apppointments all day.

Sorry this is no kind of entertaining, I don't feel so good and am kinda in a funk about it. Flah.

Aliens are for Quacks

Check out the bottom right side of this x-ray, taken of an injured mallard.


Upon autopsy, no object was found.

More on Juries

In the rare event a lawyer manages to wiggle his way onto a jury - he should totally get CLE for it.

Taking the Lifted Admonition to the Next Level

I think it's great that jurors are permitted to talk after trial has concluded. This way, people like me can attempt to corner them, ask questions, get at their psyche, learn what they're thinking, etc, etc.

But, now, is it just me, or is it kinda weird when a juror becomes pen-pals with someone they sent to death row?

Richelle Nice, Juror in the infamous Laci Peterson murder case, wrote Scott a letter. At the advice of her therapist. Apparently, she wanted to ask Scott why he killed his wife and tell him how it had turned Nice's life upside down. The letter was meant to be an "exercise," but then Nice sent the thing.

Lo and Behold - Scott wrote back. The two have exchanged about two dozen letters since then...

I want to see the contents of these letters. If you're writing someone you convicted to say "hey, why did you do it man?" - and they respond by reasserting their innocence... Why keep writing? Is this what your therapist would recommend?

This may be one of those crazy inmate prison love stories waiting to happen. I can see it now... "Former Peterson juror does an about face - Scott is innocent - and she wants to marry him!!!"

Television movie waiting to happen.

Where's the Quality, Where's the Love?

So I picked up my ridiculously expensive box of BarBri books last week. I am doing the home audio-lease option. I think BarBri used to do this with CDs, but now they do it all with an I-Pod. Anyhow, I called the office last Monday to see if the books were in:

Lex: "Hi, I'm calling to see if the books are in."
BarBri Rep: "Not yet, we just ordered a whole batch, so call Friday to see if they're in yet."

Friday arrived.

Lex: "Hi, BarBri Lady told me to call today to see if my books are in yet."
BarBri Lady: "Yeah, we have one set left."
Lex: "Huh? I was told that the sets were given in order of payment received and that I was supposed to get my set with this batch."
BarBri Lady: "Hm. Well, I can hold this last one for you if you come pick it up."
Lex: "Ok, I'll leave now."

So I left work early and drove to BarBri. As I'm exiting the freeway, my cell phone rings:

BarBri Lady: "Oh, um, have you already left?"
Lex: "Yup, I just got off the freeway right now. I should be there in about five minutes."
BarBri Lady: "Well, we just realized that we don't have an I-Pod here."
Lex: "Seriously? I just talked to someone about this not even an hour ago. I'm already here, so I'm going to come in anyhow."

So I go in and get my books. First, wow, I didn't realize there were so many books. Compared to the two, two-inch thick three-ring binders I bought from some guy as my study course last time, I see that I am going to have a lot more reading this time around. That kinda sucks. Anyhow, the BarBri people took forever to get my books, and then lost part of my application. I had a copy of my application, and offered to let the woman copy it. She didn't want to do that and opted to have me fill out a whole 'nother application. Sheesh. Then she told me they would ship me my I-Pod as soon as more came in. This weekend, I started reading the state-specific outlines. The pages started coming out of the book - it appears that the book may not have been bound correctly...

I'm hoping that the BarBri administrative staff is no reflection of the efficiency of the BarBri course.

I Can See Clearly Now

My glasses have been missing for days. I looked around my bedroom - nowhere. In every drawer and behind each book in my office - nothing. In the trunk, under the seat, in the sunglass holder - nada. Giving up, I assumed the glasses lost.

But Front Secretary just brought them to me. My glasses, in apparent incrimination, have been sitting on The Boss' big desk this whole time.

Now, my guess is that I went in there to get a practice guide or something and took them off, laid them down and squatted next to the bookshelf to get a better look-see. But if I were The Boss, I would be imaging Lex sittng in my chair, mouthing one of my cigars, feet up on the desk, barking out words into a dictaphone pretending to be a big shot while The Boss was away on vacation. He hasn't asked yet how my glasses ended up on his desk. I'm blaming the night-cleaning crew. I must have left them in a common area that they put them on The Boss' desk.

I Move to Strike

I hereby recant yesterday's bitching regarding the Motion. I have been relegated to a far worse fate.

There are few things worse than the brainless, mind-numbing exercise in becoming stupider that is reviewing an entire case file. Not for golden gems or anything. Just to find a certain document, to know what date you did something. Just a yawn circus.

If only this were a firm that hired summer law students. This assignment would be so pawned off right now.

I Move for a Vacation.

Dear The Boss,

If you want me to successfully obtain a Rule 59 Second Chance, try to get me your thoughts more than five days before the deadline.

If it suits you,

Lex.

Sometimes I wonder how the partner-half thinks. Do they forget that newbies have to research for hours and hours to figure out something a seasoned attorney just *knows*? I mean, I like working until 8:00 just as much as the next guy, but it really is a matter of quality. I have never even seen a motion for a new trial, let alone tried to singlehandedly write one. Pretending to be a lawyer is hard. But it's flattering. The Boss has been giving more responsibility, assuming dependability, and apparently placing greater faith in my mad skills. This is awesome. I wrote a motion during trial that he made not one change to, and it was immediately granted, over vigorous objection of defense counsel. That felt good. Still, a motion such as this is rather all-encompassing and I'm anxious about doing well given the short deadlines provided by the Rule. I've been staring at my draft for days, and finally told The Boss that he needed to take a look-see and tell me what needs to be changed, added to, deleted, etc. He hasn't called yet.

I've been dreaming about law school a lot lately. I dream it is finals season and I wake up realizing I have an exam in an hour. The problem is always that I completely forgot I was even in the class, hadn't gone all semester, had no idea what was covered, and I feel overwhelming anxiety. The other law school dream scenario is where I wake up, decide I don't really want to wake up, and decide to ditch class. Then I wake up for real, realize I can't ditch work, and feel bummed.

I think the law school dreams stem from two absolute truths of my current life status: 1) Gone are the days of college and grad school when I never had to do anything, never had to be anywhere, had no real hard and fast schedule. I would get up, go to the beach, play my guitar and do whatever I wanted. 2) Those days have been replaced with a life consisting of absolutely no free time. Given that I will be taking time off to study for Round 2 of the bar, coupled with all the time I missed when I started here due to ill-health, I don't get any vacation time anywhere in the near future. New Paralegal is taking tomorrow off for a vacation day. The Boss, who just returned from a week's vacation, is leaving again tomorrow for a weekend at a resort. I don't hold it against them, I'm just really jealous.

Window Shopping

Oh man.

I want this shirt so bad.

The Hungry, Hungry Hippos and Anti-Pedro ones are good too.

McCreepy and the Desperate Housewife

The neighbor from Wysteria Lane strikes again. Yesterday, while I was at work and Daughter was at school, she boldly knocked on the door and asked Boyfriend if he wanted to come over and go swimming in her new pool. Came to the door in her bathing suit. She is facing some serious repercussions from Lex. I'm going to send Daughter and friends to TP her house and put red dye in her stupid swimming pool and Joy in her hot tub.

While Boyfriend was being blatantly hit on by the neighborhood Edie, I had a second run in with McCreepy. McCreepy is an attorney who works for BigLaw in the same building as me. Back when I was getting ready to take the February bar, I asked him for advice/ experience/ tips, etc. He offered to take me out for coffee to talk about it.

Talk regarding the exam took 3 seconds. The remainder of the 15 minutes revolved around my relationship status, strength of said relationship, and whether I would date him if the current relationship failed.

I made clear that relationship status was serious, strength of Nasa quality material and that there was consequently no need to consider the dateability question. I mean, don't get me wrong, nice enough man- albeit 20 years my senior.

But I made it real, real clear that I am super-unavailable. After the coffee meeting, I went back to the office and ranted to Front Secretary. Apparently, Front Secretary had been through the same with McCreepy. For a period of weeks, he called every day, offering lavish gifts and entertaining dates. Even called once for some pseudo-phone sex. We laughed together and have continued to do so whenever we see McCreepy.

So yesterday I get an email. "I've seen you here and there, and you seem higher than the clouds. I'm sure because you passed the bar. Celebrate?"

Uh. No. I sent a cursory email saying that I failed, thanking for the compliment and bragging about my Fail Bonus. Couldn't help that part. That part makes me feel so much better about failing. I made no mention of celebration, meeting or any moment in the future that we might spend together. Egad. McCreepy mailed me back and asked me out again. Cursory no thank you.

Who else is bummed that Denny died and Izzy quit? Seriously. That shit was a downer for me.

In My Life I Love You More.

For some silly, girlish, romantic reasoning that lacks logic, I always disliked the fact that Paul McCartney remarried after Linda died. It felt like betrayal.

I had this image of Paul and Linda and perfect love, which I don't maintain is based on any personal knowledge, fact or even attempted research. Actually, it's based mostly on that Wings video where they look completely in love and the way I damn near cry evertime I hear "Maybe I'm Amazed." I fell in love with the idea and part of me wanted Paul to mourn Linda, foregoing all others, until his last day. I recognize that isn't really fair to the survivor left behind in a relationship. Or to the one-legged former model who I'm sure was nice enough, saving seals and all. But I wanted Paul to take one for the team and my symbolism.

So, needless to say, I am feeling a little too satisfied today when Paul and the other girl announced their separation.

Living it up Cleaver Style

For the first time since we moved in together, someone in my relationship is sleeping on the couch.

It all started night before last when I just could not stay asleep. I kept waking up, in mid-dream, half-lucid... and Boyfriend was in snores. Now, this usually isn't such a big deal, just roll him over and all is well. But it didn't work. My theory is that Boyfriend might have a little bug, because he's been kinda congested. Anyhow, when the rollover didn't work, I went out to the couch and set up shop.

Last night, in a pre-emptive strike, Boyfriend announced that he would be sleeping on the couch because I "need a good night's sleep." With that commandment issued, he laid in bed, petting me till I fell asleep and then went out to the couch. I went out in the middle of the night and kissed his forehead and told him I missed him. But I didn't wake him up and bring him back to bed. I really did need some sleep.

I don't like this at all. Boyfriend must decongest, or get some of those strips, or I need to invest in a good set of ear plugs. I really, really hate not having him to cuddle up with at night =(

The whole episode reminded me of this theory my Ex had about sleeping on the couch. He out and out refused to do it. If we had a big fight, and I demanded he go to the couch because I could not stand his presence, he would tell me to fuck off, that it was his bed, and he wasn't going to leave it. Resultantly, even if I was totally in the right (which I always was), I was the one who ended up in the doghouse. That is one of the few life-strategies of the Ex's that I ever really respected.

Christian 1 : Lex 0

Before work, I went to get some labs done in my forever ongoing health rule-out. Some lady beat me to the sign-in sheet by 2 seconds. I put my name under hers and sat down beside her in the crowded waiting room.

Lady: "So, you getting some tests done?"

Lex: Duh. Nods head. "Yup, still trying to figure out what's wrong with me."

Lady: "Me too. It's been a long journey, but I'm a Christian, so my goal is just to follow God's will."

Lex: So you have cancer then? "Been a long journey for me too, but I'm an Atheist, so my goal is just to get really old."

Awkward silence.

Lex: "So, mind if I go in front of you then?"

Lady: "Don't think so."

Lex: "I figured it was worth a shot, probably wouldn't affect God's will or anything."

Lady: Insulted. "You know, if your goal is to live to be really old, you should give up smoking."

Lex: Impressed. "It's something I've considered, but right now I'm trying to quit gum." That was seriously the best response I could come up with.

I totally got burned by Christian lady.

Argument Deconstruction

One of my roomates, Sadie Grey's Boyfriend, Uncle Reptile (a.k.a. Ford Prefect) has responded to the argument that guns kill people. It goes something like this:

"If guns kill people than I can blame mispelled words on my pencil."

[My response to the argument was here and subsequently deleted. I'm more interested in what others have to say.]

Any takers? Come on law students, you know you want to bite. Do it anonymously if your argument has no strength. Nony-Burn. Nice.

How Many Accountants Does it Take...

When my husband and I split in 2004, I walked with all the marital debt in exchange for a promise that he would never pursue alimony. Here I am almost two years later, still waiting for the divorce to be finalized.

The last thing we were to do as a married couple was file last year's taxes. Since he has a finance degree, works as an accountant, and claimed Daughter during 2005 - he offered to do the taxes and give me the full return in exchange for filing jointly one last time. I agreed. After the return is transferred into my bank account, I will sign off on the marital settlement agreement. I've been waiting to do this because the MSA (and the signature that will solidify him getting out without taking any of the debt) is the last bargaining power I have. He no longer has the alimony argument because I did my homework and realized it would never, ever happen and a judge would laugh him out of court. As much as I would enjoy watching the ex get bench-slapped, if I were to change my mind and renegotiate the whole deal, I would have to refile my dissolution petition (technicality related to language I, idiotically, used in the original petition). This would entail waiting another six months, and I'd be writing this same post in another two years. I'd rather pay him off.

So anyhow, he was supposed to have done the taxes. I asked him yesterday where the return was and he proceeded to tell me it had been rejected. For reasons he doesn't understand. The man went to school and studied this shit for ten years and he can't file a friggin' straightforward return. Although maybe it says something that the entire ten years was spent trying to finish a Bachelor's Degree. He *refiled* yesterday and now the "10 business day" clock starts anew. I'm annoyed. Sick of being married. Sick of dealing with his idiocy. Sick of still having a stupid hyphenated last name. And I'm sick of not having my tax money yo'

Ah. That helped. Man, I am so glad I never told him about this blog. I almost have a few times, but this is just the best.

Mind of Mine See Ya'

My head is all over the place right now. I can't keep straight thoughts. They're not even like a series of connected lines taking lots of turns. They're like random angular rays sprouting from unpredictable places. If I tried to pretend to have ADD, you know really get into that mindset for performance purposes, I would try to become the way I am thinking today.

Resurrection of Sadie Grey. Once you go blog, you can't go back.
[EDIT] ***This post has been amended to acknowledge the fact that the ADD post was originally Sadie's idea. I claim no memory of reading such a post on her blog. If true, it must have been subconscious. Sadie deleted her old posts so she can't prove any of this anyhow.***

I went to a courthouse today. I walked through the x-ray machine and immediately turned my back to the security guard, stuck out my arms and waited to be wanded. Security Officer: "obviously someone's done this before." That made me feel good. I'm in the "rules of courthouse security" club. I may not be an attorney, but I've got the "no shanks in the house of the law" law down.

I have a headache. I didn't have coffee today. Therefore, I have a headache because I didn't have coffee today. Southern Canadian must resist the urge to explain the logical fallacy of this statement.

Boalt Hall's graduating 3Ls were supposed to have Howard Dean as their keynote speaker. Apparently he bowed out after the UC workers union decided to picket graduation. Dee-dee-dee. So many Boalties are committed to labor and employment law issues. I did the WRC, I spent a semester at the employment law center, I didn't cross the lines when you protested during the first month of classes during my first semester of law school. Ok, I probably wouldn't have gone that day anyhow, but it seems counter-intuitive to protest the celebration of a group of students that largely supports your cause. I wonder what CECU, the union man, makes of this.

I wore this same shirt yesterday. There's no deodorant or sweat marks or stains or anything. So I'll probably wear this same shirt tomorrow.

Boyfriend just called to tell me Cat killed a bird. I wish the bird won and Boyfriend was calling to tell me the bird was laying on top of Cat, nibbling at its innards. If Daughter didn't love Cat, Cat would be at the Cat-Pound.

I really did not want to come to work today. I wanted to sit at home and drink vodka-cranberries with Boyfriend and pretend like it was a Friday night. My drinking has elevated from once every month or two to once every week or two. Drinking makes my stomach hurt less. I realize this is not the ideal way to deal with a health issue.

BarBri is going to make me (well, The Boss) pay (well, it's refundable) $600 to lease an I-Pod for the self-study program. I can't add any data and if I attempt to copy any, the I-Pod self-destructs in 11 seconds. I have no desire to see M:I:3. But if Arbusto writes a review, I'll probably read it.

I hope I never go bald. Or senile. I don't want to be one of those old people who walks around stuttering and mumbling shit that makes no sense. If I'm still sane enough, I'll take all my old-people pills before I get that crazy. Then I'll be cryogenically frozen Ted Williams style so I can come back in 300 years. I wonder whether 2300s humans would be attracted to 2000s humans? Or would I look kinda weird and dirty, like people from the 1700s kinda look to me?

Front Secretary wrote a letter to her healthy father. She told him what she wants to happen if she dies, and asked what he wants to happen if he dies. I called her morbid. I read the obituaries from Smalltown, Missouri at least once a week. I never talk to my family there, but this is the only way I'll ever find out when they die. I used to read local obituaries all the time, but they stopped publishing the cause of death in the late 90's. So much for informal death statistics.

I mentioned Smalltown, Missouri to Daughter recently. She asked if we would ever visit. Look of uncertainty crossed my face "I just don't know sweetie, it's... different there." Daughter, very matter-of-factly, responded "Oh. Is it a red-state? More than here?"

I wish Sadie would make Veggie-Kabobs again. Those were bomb.

I read over at Pettifoggery that during a SupCrt argument regarding the right to choose one's counsel, Scalia said "I don't want a 'competent' lawyer. I want a lawyer to get me off. I want a lawyer to invent the Twinkie defense. I want to win." Read Pettigfogger's whole story. We all hate Scalia. But this is classic.

IT guy called. I need him to make a WAV file play. I opened it on g-spot to find what codec I needed, and then couldn't find the codec online. I worked all of this information into the conversation in order to appear smart to IT guy. Backfired. Given my history with computer geeks, I know that this was a surefire way to make my ineptitude apparent. I already went through the exact same exchange with Boyfriend over the exact same codec issue and looked dumb in front of him too. I lose good sense around techies and become a babbling 14 year old. Next time, I will impress him by needlessly throwing Latin terms into conversation.

I made coffee. It's 3:28p.m. It's so good.

American Idol

I am a bad friend. Judgment assignor. Resentment harborer. Acceptance resister. All around bad friend.

My favorite person in law school was a girl I will call Environmental Fundamentalist (EF). EF was assigned to my Mod (small group of 25ish law students during 1L that have all their classes together). EF has a last name similar to mine, so we had side-by-side lockers. EF rode the same bus route as me. EF had the same laptop model as me (Fuck Macs). EF actually lived in a trailer-trash town right next to where I grew up in Crapsville, California. EF was idealistic, outspoken, and liberal like none I had ever known. I was awestruck by her presence, it shot out five feet in front of her.

In class, EF was always the person to raise her hand and bring up the "Social Justice" angle. She would argue with professors. She spoke up so often that people surrounding her never got called on. She was my Socratic Shield. Brilliant and persuasive, she refused to bend on anything she believed in but conceded logical positions, right before making them support her argument. She wanted to stop global warming, the west group's monopoly, and wage equality for all. She wanted to save the world and I believed she just might do it.

EF gave me something I really, really needed in my life. I was jaded. Republicans ruled. The war had begun. Poor were getting poorer. Etcetera ad naseum. But EF never lost sight of the revolution. She had passion and motivation. She saw the potential of this world with a beautiful imagination that falls victim to most people's childhood.

And she stayed that way. One after another, I saw person after person transform during those three years. A sea of metamorphosis: people wanting to change the world evolving into people letting the world change them. Funny how law school does that. But EF never changed. EF held her values. EF was a Rockstar and landed a Rockstar clerkship.

I haven't talked to EF in months. Before that, EF was having trouble finding a post-clerkship 'good guy' job that would pay enough for credit debt, student loans, and generally keeping afloat. I understood the sentiment. When I last emailed her, I asked whether she had 'sold out' to a defense firm for a ton of cash. When she hit reply, EF told me that she had.

It destroyed me. I actually, literally, physically and furiously cried over someone else's career choice. Makes no sense. There are lots of people in law school who went to defense firms and I never held it against them. There are lots of people who would consider my field to be selfish ambulance-chasing, and they don't (vocally) hold it against me (fuck them, they're wrong anyhow).

So why did/do I hold it against EF? My initial feeling was, 'hey, I'm struggling, I'm broke, I had to consolidate my credit cards, I have to deal with a negative rating - but I'm not doing defense work for the corporations I talked shit about with you for three years.' But I would if I had to. If The Boss fired me and BigLaw called and said "Hey Lex, we'll triple it," I would strongly consider the offer. I would look at my loan statements and my daughter and my car payment and say "wow - maybe I could justify this." Maybe.

But I didn't think she ever would. I didn't think she ever could. And ever since she told me she did, I haven't contacted her.

I know I'm wrong. Her life is not my decision. And it's not like she suddenly wants to kill the world. Fundamentally, I understand the financial reasons behind her decision. It just feels like something died that day. But I can't hold anybody else responsible for the death of my idealism. And it makes even less sense to distance myself from someone who shares my political/social/christians-are-idiots beliefs more than almost anyone else I have ever known.

So now what do I do? I miss EF. I miss EF's reassurance and silly voice and stories about pretentious people doing pretentious people things. I miss having someone my age, a smart woman to talk to. So how do I fix it? Do I say "Oh yeah, I totally held this shit against you." That can't be right. But it's the truth. I can't tell her I was too busy working, or too sick, or too anything. Given the length of time since I've contacted her, she has to know that my reason is related to our dynamic.

I'm an asshole. I feel like a jerk for standing on a high horse dictating how she should live her life. And yet, even knowing that, part of me still feels betrayed. She was the girl who believed we could fix it all, and I believed in the purity of her belief. The strength of her beliefs further justified everything I felt was right. But I shouldn't need that, my beliefs should stand on their own. And I shouldn't require something from one friend that I would never demand from another. Nor should I hold something against her that I would do myself if I felt helpless.

So how do I fix it? Do I just say "Hey, I judged you and I'm sorry." "Hey, (insert bullshit excuse)." "Hey, I was a little freaked out about your job but maybe you can take me out for a really fancy dinner next time I'm in town." "Hey, you're a great girl working for a bad guy and you're super-lucky we don't work in the same jurisdiction or area of law 'cuz I would so totally kick your ass if only I had passed the bar."

What do I do folks? I want my friend back.

Now I Ain't Sayin She A Gold Digger

Daughter turned 10 about two weeks ago. As previously noted, I learned things about 4th graders that I could never have imagined during her slumber party. Since then, problems have exacerbated.

On the Tuesday following the slumber party, Daughter came home with a birthday present from a boy in her class. It was a silver bracelet with a heart charm. I nearly had a heart attack.

Yesterday, Boyfriend met Daughter at the bus-stop. She stepped off holding a jewelry box and a card. We were told the jewelry box was from Jared's. It wasn't from Jared's, it was obviously from Wal-Mart. Boy 2 is a salesman who understands the importance of packaging. The box contained a gold necklace, with three little crystals set in a heart. The card read: "I followed the path of my heart." Open card. "It led me to you." There was a personalized note explaining to Daughter that Boy 2 really liked her, and hoped she liked the necklace. Again, near heart attack for mom.

So, the question became, how to handle the elevating Boy Situation? Are there crush-wars being had over Daughter? Is Daughter inviting these gifts? Is she letting all the boys think she might like them in order to get bling? Are there two mothers who just had their Mother's Day gifts stolen?

Boyfriend and I sat Daughter down and tried to explain the impression this might give. She swears she doesn't "like" Boy 2, but she didn't throw the necklace in his face. We explained that Boy 2 obviously gave the necklace in hopes that she will start to like him back. Same with Boy 1 and his stupid bracelet. Turns out she kinda likes Boy 1. Remains that she is TEN years old. I was ready to shave her head.

Boyfriend came up with advice that Daughter chose to follow. She wrote a letter to Boy 2: "Thank you for the necklace, that was very nice of you. But I want to make sure you know that I only think of you as a friend. If you want the necklace back, I'll understand."

How do I approach this - an event which has already proven itself repeatable? There are only two weeks left in her school year, and next year, it's a new school. A huge relief, but a temporary answer. How do I stop this all-too-soon insanity?

And the Dreams that you Dare to Dream - Really Do Come True

Mission Accomplished. Seriously. Not just Bush Iraq War style.

Got the Fail Bonus. More than I hoped for: He is paying for Barbri. He is paying all filing fees. He is paying $1500 more than I requested for my moving stipend.

There were two things he asked:

1) Come into the office 2 days per week rather than the entire 6 weeks off I opened with:

The Boss: "I'll cover Barbri. But six weeks is quite some time. Could you give me 12 days of work during that period?" Not really a request. Clearly a demand.

Lex: Restraint. Part of me was ready to offer every day because he agreed to pay for BarBri. "Well...certainly if something is pressing, some sort of motion, I can come in, kick that out and make up the lost study time. So long as it's not the two weeks before the bar. That is what I was thinking."

The Boss: "Well, I would like to have time scheduled where you are in the office. You could also study weekends."

Lex: He really wants this. Damn, I didn't want to study on weekends. Don't overplay a hand when you weren't even dealt in to begin with. "Good point. That addresses one of my concerns, this way I won't feel out of the loop on the cases."

The Boss: "That will work, and then, those two days you come in, if things are slow, you can study here. And certainly take the whole two weeks before the exam."

Lex: Nodding. "I like that." Super-sweet.

2) The second request:

The Boss: "One more thing Lex, as entertaining as it has been, I have to ask that you to give up the blog. I've been keeping up for months."

Lex: Holy shit. "Which case are you billing for that time?"

The Boss: "Which case are you billing for that time? That's not the point. It's risky Lex, you've gotta give it up. Get a journal. Why do you need to put it out there publicly?"

Lex: "Because I'm an attention whore. It's my therapy. I can't give it up, not a chance."

The Boss: "I don't really want you to give it up. I love it. Never tell anyone that I know. And could you please not imply that I smell bad ever again?"

Lex: "Fair enough. Now that I know you're reading, I'll be sure to never imply that you are an asshole again either. Deal?"

The Boss: "Deal."

Team Handshake.

I feel really, really, really good right now. I failed the bar yet somehow, still feel like I won. I get to keep my job doing plaintiff's work. I get to to take the best bar course and don't have to pay for it. I get to have my boss throw down for a decent apartment when my credit would have relegated me to the ghetto. I get two-day weeks starting June 1st. Sure, I'll be studying for the bar, but I'll be doing it at home in sweats. I'll only have to wear nylons 12 days this summer - max.

There it is folks. In monetary terms, it works out to a lump sum equal to round-about 15% my annual income. Not too shabby seeing as we are still set to renegotiate come October when I pass the bar.

He doesn't really know about the blog. I just added that part because it happened in my mind and was funny to me.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Allright folks. Here's to going for broke.

Today is the day that The Boss and I sit down to "negotiate." I am clearly in an inferior bargaining position. After having lost the bar, I must now convince him that it is in his best interest to give me a Fail Bonus.

Basically, I want The Boss to
1) Pay for a BarBri course.
2) Give me time off to attend said BarBri course.
3) Pay my re-filing fees.
4) Pay for me to move.

So, the whole thing boils down to: "Hey The Boss, I failed the bar. I need a six-week vacation and a 20% raise. Up front. Whatda ya say?"

I'm laughing at myself just typing this shit. It's absurd. Absolutely absurd.

Wish me luck folks, this oughta be interesting.

As Expected

Until about two hours ago, the only test I ever failed in my life was for a driver's license.

I lost the Arizona bar exam.

I promptly called The Boss with the following speech:

"I got my bar results, I failed. I could give you lots of reasons why, but what it comes down to is I didn't do what I needed to do. I know I can do this, I know I can pass this exam. I know you have been waiting, and I hate to let you down. I like this office, I like the people, I like how much I have learned. I want to stay here, but I need you to make an investment in me. To believe in me. I am going to need quality study materials. I need time to adequately prepare. I need to move closer to the office."

The Boss told me it would be ok. To keep my chin up. We're going to "figure something out" on Monday.

If this works, I may start believing in the lottery again.

Congratulations to all those who did pass!!! I'll get you fuckers in July and see you in court come January.

Research Books a What What?

I was at work today pushing a 4:00 deadline on a motion. The internet went down. Jumping up, running down the hall, freaking out.

Lex: "What the hell is going on with the internet?"
Front Secretary: "I don't know... I'm bummed too, I was trying to watch a Mary J. Blige video..."
Lex: Anxiety. "Fuck a Mary J. Blige video, I have a motion to write. Where the hell is WestLaw? Call IT immediately."
Front Secretary: Smirking. "You broke it on purpose so we would have to call him." Everyone knows I dig computer geek eye candy.
Lex: "No time for soap opera fun, no time. How will I research?"
Front Secretary: Points to walls and walls of Case Reporters.
Lex: "What are those? I don't know how to use those. Good God man, The Boss is going to have my head. I might need to go do this from home..."
Front Secretary: "Calm down. IT will be here soon. Here, look at this index, what's the subject matter?"
Lex: "Oh man. I'm so screwed."

The internet came back on by 3:00. The motion got finished and filed. Life is ok.

I should have paid more attention when the nice Boalt librarians took us around and blabbed about the West Digest Key System. That would have saved me and afternoon of stomach-wretching Xanax feening.

Funk full foul stinky it's stanky stuff.

The Boss called me into his office to discuss upcoming assignments. I smelled something weird. I wasn't sure if there was maybe some sort of fire, someone eating foreign barbeque, or some special cigars that commenting upon might get me one of.

Lex: "What's that smell?"
The Boss: "What smell?"
Lex: In too deep. "I don't know, something smells... different. Are you wearing cologne?"
The Boss: "No."
Lex: "Ok, well..." Gunning for a good save. "I'm gonna let you take all this as a compliment and save myself an apology."
The Boss: "Very well."

The Devastation of Slumber Parties

Daughter turned 10 this weekend. She had a slumber party where 8 girls unknowingly schooled me in the changing times.

At one point during the slumber party, Boyfriend and I went spy-style and ReCon'd the girls' discussions. They were having a Burn Circle. A Burn Circle is where groups of school age children sit around and talk shit about non-present peers, who are assigned numbers on a list, and then shit-talked.

Among other things I learned:
- Daughter has a Boyfriend. He's number 21. He spent all his allowance on a birthday gift for Daughter.
- Number 17 touches some of the girls in "inappropriate" places. I am told this means putting arms around eachother, but I'm not buying that interpretation. I am considernig calling officials.
- Daughter's Best Friend is way more annoying than I ever imagined. She said some pretty mean things about numbers 6,7, and 13.

Children are growing up way faster than they used to. Talk about body parts and boyfriends and crushes has hit record levels.

A more positive change is that the girls these days are playing way less "Light as a Feather" and appear to not be fainting eachother as a means of entertainment.

I don't know as I like the tradeoffs.