Friday, October 26, 2007

Paul Harvey Presents . . . The Rest of the Story . . .

So, a while ago I told a story about going to a strip club. But I never told the story of how we got there. This here then, is the rest of the story:

I was shitfaced. I had been drinking all day. The Packers were on TV that night, so I had to drink more. Except they were playing like they had Turk's $40 dome gel on their hands and fumbling everything they almost touched. This made me upset. This made me drink more. I really do not remember the second half of the game. I was that drunk.

My friend put $150 on the game. Based on my recommendation. He is a fucking idiot. Over the course of the summer we worked together, I probably won one bet we had between us, and that was because there was traffic in Adams Morgan. And we would bet on everything. Always just a beer or something, but still, I never won (although I am holding out for one bet. I assert that Elliot's, from scrubs, breasts are a C-cup, he says they are a B. There is no definitive proof yet, which makes me hold on to me being right, but all signs point to me being wrong).

So the Pack lost. I was pissed (my favorite team lost) and he was pissed ($150 down the drain), but his girlfriend really wanted to go to the strip club. My friend and I were both hammered, but she only had a couple glasses of wine, so she offered to drive.

And what a drive it was. We drove around for at least an hour. Taking this road and that road. Side street? What the hell, it might be right. There were twists and turns that I could not fathom. I tried to help throughout this ordeal. My friend had an I-Phone. Surely the I-phone could help us in our time of need to see titties.

But no such luck. I asked my friend to see his i-phone not once, not twice, but thrice, at which point he yelled at me, said the fucking a few times, and belittled my knowledge of where the fuck we were.

But I knew where the fuck we were.

After a few more wrong turns and some circles where I got to see some old decrepit houses twice, my friend gave up. His almost exact words, "Fuck this, I have never been this lost before. I have no clue where we are. Let's just go home."

I said nothing. I was pissed at him. Sure I was drunk, and he was drunk, but fuck him, why should I help him now. He thinks that I cannot help just because this is the first time I have ever been in this city before, then fuck him. Fuck them both. No strip club for my boy or the girlfriend.

I thought that, but I am not that evil. After a few twists and turns, we approached an intersection. From the backseat I said, "Turn left here."

"What?" the girlfriend said.

"Turn Left!" I replied.

She looked at my friend, who shrugged his shoulders and said, "Fuck it, do what he says." His body language, voice inflection, everything about him said, I am so pissed off right now, this fucking kid thinks he knows my town better than me, then fuck him, let's do what he says. Let's get more fucking lost. Fuck him. Seriously, fuck him.

We winded around the curvy road for a bit (the road I said to turn onto), and lo and behold, there was our mecca of debauchery.

I left out some details. He had called this place twice to get directions. Based on those directions, he could not find it. I listened to those directions, and knew where the place was. Bear in mind, this is a city I have never been to in my life, yet I knew how to get to where we wanted to go.

In an attempt to trivialize my great achievement, I spent three years driving around at night. You learn to memorize signs (at least the smart ones do), and always know where you are going. I knew where we were going. I tried to explain it multiple times, but he would have nothing of that. I know streets, I know streets I have never been to, and I know how to find them. He almost missed out on the best sex of his life because he was too stubborn to listen to me.

Just a lesson for you all out there.

And THAT, is the rest of the story.

Friday, October 12, 2007

Trying to Help

Over the past week or so I have noticed some odd keywords leading folks to my blog. Most of them are written in a question type form, so I will now attempt to answer these questions.

--how long do call backs take?

I assume that you mean when they take you into the office, how long should you expect to be talking. You will usually meet with four people, and each interview is generally about 30 minutes. That means about two hours. When you interview with a big firm, you will talk to two partners and two associates. My advice, lawyers love to talk, but do not let them monopolize the time. However, make sure you are not 20 minutes and both of you have nothing to talk about. That is a death knell.

I have never had any of those crazy group interviews where three or four lawyers talk to three or four interviewees. And I thank my god for that.

-- lawschool & how long to wait before call back?

The easy answer to this is the same answer to every question in Law School. It depends. Some firms will get back to you in a week, some will take a couple months. Just be patient. If after a month you have not heard anything back send a respectful e-mail to your interviewer (the internet has some fun not so respectful e-mails, but I am too lazy to find them unless you pay me) or call the interviewer on a Sunday evening so you can leave a voice mail, and hope he gets back to you. I would not reccomend calling during normal business hours because the last thing an attorney wants to do is spend 20 minutes trying to figure out who you are and he will just transfer you to HR anyway. I never did any of this by the way. This is all speculation, but I stand behind my advice.

--1st year law school cannot finish case brief

You cannot even finish a damn case brief? Get the fuck out now. You do not belong here. Seriously though, this happens to everyone. Do not sweat it. This is why you should always read a case before you start briefing it (HAHAHA!!). By this time next year, you are not even going to be briefing cases. I did it through most of my second year, but now I just do not care anymore. Can't finish a brief. Do not sweat it (unless your school does that stupid on call thing), there is a 1 / however many kids in your class that you are going to be called on. You should like those odds.

--the pain of law school oci

OCI's suck. But having a job after you graduate most decidedly does not suck. So if your CSO is good for anything, they should give you an opportunity to practice with the people there or with local attorneys. Be self-aware. Practice. Call your mom on the phone and have her grill you with questions. Whatever you have to do to be ready. Even if it means not finishing a case brief.

--rod and todd's dad?

Flanders, Ned Flanders.

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

What are friends for?

Went of town this weekend to visit a kid I worked with over the summer and attend a football game. The weekend is pretty much what you would expect. There was a lot of drinking. I gave some shit to a guy on a street corner playing guitar and he called me an "asshole." There was the cab ride from hell back to my friend's place on Saturday night because neither my friend nor the cabbie could figure out where the hell we were supposed to go.

There was waking up at nine on Sunday, after four hours of sleep, and immediately cracking a beer. There was the cab ride to the pre-game bar where the cabbie called me a "vagina." The bar had the nicest bathroom I have ever been in, which is impressive considering it was a football Sunday. Then the game. Which was great, even with the $7 beers and 90 degree heat. Then there was some shit bar, which was quickly followed by a trip back to my friend's place to recover (mmmm, black coffee) and watch the Packers.

Even when you factor in the the Cubs getting swept on Saturday night (which resulted in more drinking than it should have) and the Packers loss on Sunday night (nolo perfecto), it was still a good weekend.

However, Monday around 1:30 a.m. it became great. Probably one of the best weekends ever. I should write to VH1 and try to get consideration.

See, after the Packers game we went to a strip club. Which, in and of itself, is really not that impressive, but we went because my friend's girlfriend wanted to go. She had never been before (to be fair, this was only my third trip (total, not just to this location)). We eventually got there (the story of how we got there is one for another day), and it was surprisingly pretty empty. I guess most people work on Mondays or something. They did have beer though. $1 for a cup. Free refills. And the cover was only $20. Not a bad deal. Figure three beers and I am even with what I paid at the game. But that is not the story.

The girlfriend had to get acquainted first. The two of them sat next to the stage while I hung back at the tables (all the view, none of the annoying expectation of money or talk). They come back over to me and are talking with a girl and want me to come up and get lapdances with them (not really with them, you know, I know you do). I do not really like lap dances (let us just say I do not gamble for the same reason I do not go to strip clubs), but I made a big deal about not wanting to get one, and yada yada. After getting the stink eye from them, I ran away to get a beer. But, I had a plan. The stripper girl they liked was over there, and when I went for my beer I asked her if she would do me a favor. She readily complied.

After the stripper grabbed her hot friend, the five of us headed to the "special room" (I would not call it VIP). So we get there, I hand over the money, and the strippers wisk the girlfriend away. My poor friend, a little slow on the uptake, was unable to understand for a minute why he was not getting lap dance.

Then he understood, and walked over for the close-up of two naked girls grinding on his girlfriend. I swear the smile on his face moved each of his ears back an inch.

But the best part, the girlfriend came back and said, "Oh my god! They touched my boobs in a way that I did not think they could be touched. I am a little wet right now." Then, sheepishly, "And I am not wearing panties."

I am a good friend.