New York Practice Induced Madness
I don't know how to explain my new shoes.
How about this. Converses started out uncool. Then they became cool. And then too cool for their own good. So when they became too cool as to become uncool again, I knew that was time to buy my first pair. If you recall, I bought bright blue happy ones. They are happy because when I put them on, I feel an unnameable joy.
See? Even a photo of them makes me smile. They are happy indeed.
But on with the story.
Devil take the idiot who thought doubleheader barbri lectures today would be a good solution to the lecture hall's unavailability on Monday. I sat through eight hours of New York Practice, burning the finer points of Third Party Contribution in Worker's Compensation cases into my brain while wishing I could dash my skull to bits on the desk instead.
Eight hours of the worst subject on the NY bar is bound to make anyone a little wonky. I mean, why New York Practice? Why not wills or commercial paper or secured transactions, tolerable topics. You'll recall this was the exam during which I lost my will to live (a first) and drew rocket ships to compensate. (If you're wondering, B-.)
So I assure you, it was not my fault when I was at the mall afterward (to make an innocent return) and in an unexplainable fit of madness, purchased this:
Yes, for the sharp-eyed, they are covered in sequins.
(Thereby violating Personal Fashion Rule #2--no sequins.)
This second pair is the older, more worldly, gay drag queen brother to my joyful originals. I assure you, the photo hardly does them lurid justice. They are much more....outstanding in person. I don't know what came over me. I should return them. But for some reason, likely another side effect from eight hours of New York Practice, I am considering keeping them.
How about this. Converses started out uncool. Then they became cool. And then too cool for their own good. So when they became too cool as to become uncool again, I knew that was time to buy my first pair. If you recall, I bought bright blue happy ones. They are happy because when I put them on, I feel an unnameable joy.
See? Even a photo of them makes me smile. They are happy indeed.
But on with the story.
Devil take the idiot who thought doubleheader barbri lectures today would be a good solution to the lecture hall's unavailability on Monday. I sat through eight hours of New York Practice, burning the finer points of Third Party Contribution in Worker's Compensation cases into my brain while wishing I could dash my skull to bits on the desk instead.
Eight hours of the worst subject on the NY bar is bound to make anyone a little wonky. I mean, why New York Practice? Why not wills or commercial paper or secured transactions, tolerable topics. You'll recall this was the exam during which I lost my will to live (a first) and drew rocket ships to compensate. (If you're wondering, B-.)
So I assure you, it was not my fault when I was at the mall afterward (to make an innocent return) and in an unexplainable fit of madness, purchased this:
Yes, for the sharp-eyed, they are covered in sequins.
(Thereby violating Personal Fashion Rule #2--no sequins.)
This second pair is the older, more worldly, gay drag queen brother to my joyful originals. I assure you, the photo hardly does them lurid justice. They are much more....outstanding in person. I don't know what came over me. I should return them. But for some reason, likely another side effect from eight hours of New York Practice, I am considering keeping them.