...And We're Back!

Apologies for the hiatus.

There are a number of reasons I have not posted.

Firstly, I had what we law students (or at least my friends) call The Postpartum. It's just like real postpartum depression, except it and occurs after every finals period and you've birthed nothing but your finals. Or in this case, The Bar.

You see, my non-law friends, you spend every day doing law shit - and then about two weeks before finals you spend every waking moment studying law shit- and then after giving birth to your finals you feel terrible. All of sudden you have all this time, and you feel like you should be studying, or doing something productive, and you don't know how you did on your finals, and you feel so guilty for not studying and you don't know what to do with yourself. It usually takes me a few days to shake myself out of this.

The Bar was even worse. It did not go well at all. I won't know the results until November, and then if I failed I'll have to take it again in February. So I was bummed. I even forgot to wish my best friend from high school a happy birthday (shout out to Blogda). Plus we cleaned the house.

Oh yeah, and I fucking turned 30. So I needed to spend several days spent inebriated to figure out how to answer questions like:

1) Why aren't you married yet?
2) Don't you know that your ovaries are shrinking?
3) Why do you have yourself so much education?
4) When are you gonna get yourself a man?
5) Don't you know you're never gonna get a man with all that smart talk?
6) When are you gonna have kids?
7) Have you picked your wedding colors?
8) When are you getting married?

(Incidentally, the answers are respectively: Never dated a good one worth marrying; Yes, and maybe I'll freeze them so that your spawn don't make up our genetic legacy; Because it makes us better people you cretin; It's easier to find Bin Laden than a single, employed, nice "man" who's interested; I wouldn't want a man who would take me with stupid talk; Not sure- maybe never, maybe I'll meet a good guy, maybe I'll just have a kid out of wedlock; People who discuss wedding colors but have no prospective groom are pathetic; Honestly, go fuck yourself.)

So in short, I think I was entitled to my little postpartum meltdown/ blog hiatus. But it's nice to get messages that you care. It was like getting a non-cheesy hallmark card. That card would be better though if it had some ecstasy in it. I'm just saying.

And then once I felt better, I didn't have a chance to blog as I had to go visit my parents in North Carolina for a week, and they only have dialup which I just can't handle in terms of blogging, so it was just better do without.

I do promise that I have good stories to share. Upcoming stories include:

*how my sister met Ralph Fiennes
* Sometimes the gays confuse me aka How I was practically gang raped on the dance floor
* my dad and golf
* turducken
* the craziest chick-fil-a ever: aka white people's chicken
* poop

And now dear readers, it's time to adjourn. We will have brunch soon. And I need to go look for a job. If anyone knows of any legal work in the D.C. area for a bar-pending attorney, I'm all ears.

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On a separate note, would people like it if I good one of those blog subscription services that let's you know when I update? If so, can anyone recommend a particular user friendly, free service?

Tomorrow's the Big Day!

The strange calm of the condemned has settled over me. It's like the acceptance stage of death.

Thanks to all of you - my family, my non-law school friends, and those of you I only know electronically- for all of your support. Also, I apologize to all of you for acting like a crazy nut job for the past several weeks.


A shout out to all my peeps in every state taking the bar tomorrow -- GOOD LUCK!

T Minus Two Days

The Maryland Bar exam is almost upon us. July 24th and 25th promise to be awful.




I have no will left.




I merely wish for the horror to be over.

Now Entering the Pupa Phase

Something strange has come over me.

This exam has taken over more than just my life, but my body as well. I'm beginning to feel like Jeff Goldblum in The Fly where his teeth start falling out and then he enters that weird pupa phase and emerges all gross and flyey.

Let me begin by saying I am a clean person. If time is permitting, I like to bathe twice a day and brush my teeth 2-3 times per day. I even floss. However, there is evidence that I'm changing irrespective of my hygiene. The evidence:

I constantly feel greasy. EZ and I sit around constantly in our Queen Helene mint julep face masks, but that isn't even making a dent. I touch my face at any hour of the day and it feels like there's been an oil slick. Consequently, my face has broken out and I look like the before portion in an 80's teen make over movie.

Ditto with my hair -- gotta wash more often than usual. And it will be strangely greasy despite being dry. Once this is over I plan to seek extensive hair therapy. There seems to be something about the bar that makes one's body go on funk-overload, creating all sorts of things you didn't know bodies could create. I think I may be sweating more too. That could also be due to my the cocktails I've started drinking at 10:00 a.m., so it's hard to tell.***

I have also given up on dressing like a normal human being. It's all stretchy pants at this point because jeans and what not are confining. I have two pairs of stretch pants: one normal and then one that is red with yellow polka dots that resembles something Ronald McDonald would wear in his off time. I actually wore the red and yellow ones in public in college before my sister staged a massive fashion intervention with me. I changed for the better and haven't look back. However, I've taken to wearing the red and yellow pants, don't ask me why. But I do not leave the house in them. No sir.

Hopefully at the end of all of this I will emerge as a beautiful butterfly. Or a lawyer.

***Usually at the beginning of the bar review course they instruct you that you have to decide on day one of the review if you're going to stay in your relationship or not, because there is no breaking up later. That is the night to fish or cut bait because you will not have the time or mental energy to break up later and no one wants a perpetual fight over socks in the hamper to be the reason one failed the bar. Likewise, the start of barbri is NOT the time to give up your recreational/professional drug/alcohol use. Personally, I am dancing with the one who brung me: cookies and booze.

Present terror level: four bobby pins