Bar/Bri Day ___: Uh Oh.

I've lost count. All I know is that July 4th is here much too quickly. That's bad. Not because I don't like the US or birthdays--I like both in fact, very very much--but rather because everyone who has taken the bar has said that July 4th is the Rubicon: there's no going back, and it's the point where the bar exam becomes real. You have no excuse but to put your nose to the grindstone-- you know, as I'm typing this phrase, it occurs to me that putting your nose to a grindstone would hurt. Seems apt I guess. (Although, on further research, you only put your nose near it. No pain. Phew!)

Today, as we're listening to day 2 of 3 of the Evidence lecture, I noticed a growing chorus of groans everytime a Massachusetts distinction, from myself included. See, the bar exam in most states (not all--hello California!) is 2 day affair: 1 day testing general "multi-state" law, which is either federal law or common law that a majority of states follow, and 1 day testing any and all law specific to the particular state. Bar/Bri teaches from the starting point of multi-state law, and then points out state distinctions along the way. It's usually pretty efficient since no one state really veers all that much from the majority.

At first, I'd well up with pride, Ramona Quimby-style, whenever we came across a Massachusetts distinction. "That's MY state!" I'd think to myself. Real life has offered many occasions on which to be proud of Massachusetts jurisprudence. While it overall tends to the paternalistic, it definitely has the average joe's best interests at heart. But now. Oy. Everytime I hear another Massachusetts distinction, I and everyone else in my class groans at the thought of having to learn one more blackletter rule of law... and we can't take it anymore.

Loose Ends.

I'd been meaning to write some follow-ups so here goes. I know, I know, it's like waiting for the last episode of Lost or Battlestar Galactica around here (the latter being far, far, far, far, far, far superior).

1. Firefox v.3 doesn't get along with Skype. I've changed 3 things since the displeasure of June 18. First, I reduced the cache. Second, I limited the number of backtrack pages. And third, I got rid of a Skype installation, which I had recently installed in v.2. So far--knock on wood--I've been able to reset the cache with no crashing. Hopefully, I can reset the number of backtrack pages. It's my guess that Skype and v.3 don't get along.

2. In much more important news, I just came back from WALL-E. It's good. Boy howdy.

3. In slightly less important news, I finished reading A Confederacy of Dunces, which I had tried to read 4 or 5 years ago because it was a "cool" book to read. I picked it up again because I'm working my way through the Pulitzers. You know how Greek comedies aren't all that funny? Sort of like that, but with more farting. Seriously.

4. The Dunkin Donuts flavor trial is all done. Herewith:

Raspberry: B. Surprisingly better than blueberry. Maybe it's because I think raspberry is a more distinctive flavor and so it can hold its own better, or maybe I'm just being silly.

Toasted Almond: C. Completely irrelevant. Take that two-worded-flavor. You think you're so special because you're toasted. Who wouldn't be? Minus points for trying too hard.

Hazelnut: B+. Classic! This is the only way I can get my hazelnut fix. I'm allergic to them. Yup, that means no Nutella, either.

Caramel: C+. I can't remember what this tasted like. I'm guessing caramel.

5. "Sackbut" is a real word.

Adventures in Car Insurance: Part 2.

I called GEICO today to cancel my policy. I hate calling corporations to cancel things. I'm always suspicious that they will try and do something, anything, to overcome my weak will and keep me as a customer. Credit cards do it. Gyms do it (remember the Friends episode?). Cell phones do it. It's not a far stretch to think that insurance companies will do the same.

Turns out, it's not GEICO that was the headache, but rather my states of transfer. North Carolina requires cancellations of policy to be in writing, and Massachusetts -- well, they seem to be the holy water that sears the skin of car insurance providers. Lucky me! I'm crossing my fingers, because despite the red tape, I'm making progress towards finishing this little sojourn into middle class adulthood. Like I said, I'm just passing the time until I grow up.

Adventures in Car Insurance.

I like Geico. They've been good to me. In general, I hate insurance -- our family has been screwed over more times than Britney on a good day by insurance -- but Geico has been pretty decent. Something about Warren Buffett's aura must infuse that place. The only problem is that Geico doesn't insure in Massachusetts. It insures in all 49 states and the District of Columbia, but not Massachusetts.

See, Massachusetts used to have the state legislature set auto insurance rates. That way, the evil corporations couldn't take advantage of families in lower economic strata. But since April, Mass has been relaxing its paternalistic grip and letting the butterflies go. Progressive rushed in like gangbusters, but Geico hasn't yet. This means that I have to switch insurance, even though I'm only here for a couple months.

Like I said, Progressive has been advertising like a banshee, so I took them up on their offer, and it turns out I get a better policy with them at a lower price than I had with Geico. That doesn't mean anything really since it's a different state, and I have yet to see how Progressive actually deals with a claim (*knock on wood*). Regardless, I pulled the trigger. I didn't realize that old insurance, my ex-policy with Geico, will get pro rated back and refunded. Sweet! The market works sometimes.

Except that the same reason that allows Progressive and Geico to be so cheap is the current stitch in my side: because they are direct insurers (eliminating the middleman agents of yesteryear -- well, and Massachusetts), I don't actually talk to anyone in person. And it turns out that Massachusetts, God bless them, requires a specific form to be filled out (the infamous RMV-1 -- Google it! And then burn it in effigy for me!) that requires title information.

That info is HARD to come by. I don't have title to my car yet. Still paying that good ol' principal and interest, amortized (I actually know what this all means thanks to law school of all places). Apparently, the old insurance agents doing this in person knew how to do all this with one hand tied behind their backs, but Progressive's a little regressive here. I called around and finally figured out that the bank financing my car does have the title, just not readily available, so they have to mail a copy of it to me.

Then I can call Progressive back, have them fill out the forms, and FedEx(!) the RMV-1 form to me, so that I can go to the Massachusetts RMV (that's Boston speak for DMV), and convert my registration and license, get new plates (tags to you Southerners), and then get my car inspected such that I may burn $4/gallon without fear of a moving violation, so that I can pass the character & fitness portion of the bar exam. Yup. It's all one full circle.

A Weekend Away.

I took a much needed (ie, ill-advised) weekend away from all things Bar/Bri (ie, I only took one Bar/Bri book with me), and went out to the country to a gathering some friends of mine were having. It's funny to say the country, seeing as how most people when they see the town I live in think I already live there.

So, despite the fun gas prices, I didn't carpool (ostensibly to retain the flexibility should I freak out and need to drive back to study--I didn't) despite the fun gas prices. The best thing about road trips in my mind is the fact that I have no choice but to eat fast food for every meal. And it doesn't count! I mean, when you don't have a choice, it's not fair to include it in your calorie count for the day. So both going there, and coming back, I made sure to stop at McDonald's and get their Southern-Style Chicken sandwich. Deeeeeelicious. (And it doesn't count!)

The hinky thing about the whole shebang was that I was charged a "Takeout Tax" of 30 cents on a 6 dollar bill. No percentage. Nada. This is highly suspect given that as a roadside service area, every meal is takeout at this McDonald's.

I'm on to you Ronald. My 6 readers will destroy you.

Displeased.

I totally bought into the Mozilla Firefox v.3 hoopla because I've been a faithful Firefox user since way back. Not only is it a kickin' browser (I mean whoda thunk that tabs would be so awesome?), but it was made expressly to combat the worst thing about Internet Explorer. See, the smart folks at Microsoft thought it'd be wise to write IE code directly into the mainframe shell of the Windows operating system. In short, hackers have a directly line into your personal computer, and you can't delete IE (because that would be like trying to delete your computer itself).

And yet, good reader (<--intentional singular), I write this entry on IE. Why? (other than the fact that Netflix currently only supports instant-watching on IE) Because my spanky new Firefox browser has stalled at least 5 times already, and it has been less than 24 hours. I checked out the cache, and it was sucking up 450 MB of RAM. What the? Unacceptable. UNACCEPTABLE. Now I have to figure out what's going on. Of course, I went to the Firefox help site (on IE), and found out that v.3 is supposed to reduce the RAM requirements.

Don't toy with me Firefox. I'm so mad; I could kick David Archuleta.

17.

Boo. Yah.

Bar/Bri Day Pi: At Least It's Not the LSAT.

Yesterday, we had a day off from Bar/Bri. At first, I thought it was odd that a lecture series of videotapes would mandate a day off. But then, after doing absolutely nothing except 76 games of Expert Minesweeper, I really appreciated the day off. Today, I learned the real reason for the sojourn: Apparently yesterday was the June administration of the LSAT.

Terrible, horrible memories of lost weekends, lost summers, and too much caffeine at coffee shops flooded my mind, as I smirked at how glad I am that I don't have to worry obsessively about some arcane test that will determine whether I can even do the career that I want to do, and wondering how law can be tested in a multiple-choice format. I mean, really, thank God that's over.

P.S. Can Boston sportswriters stop being so cocky about this championship that we haven't won yet? At least some people are finally coming 'round to the fact that, oh, you know, Boston just happened to be the last city to make history to come back from both a 3-0 and 3-1 deficit in sports playoffs, even though that never happens. Please stop messing with the karma faeries.

Bar/Bri Day 3942.

It's Sunday, but I'm blogging about last Friday's class. My sense of time is completely null and void. Is this why lawyers created the billable hour? So that we'd never lose track of time ever again? Seems like overkill to make up for a summer of Bar/Bri.

It wasn't a total loss though. I learned that states, including Massachusetts, still have constables! I hope that they have a favorite haberdasher, on the way to whom they stop at the local cooper, fletcher, and cobbler.

Dunkin Donuts Coffee: A Midterm Assessment.

As previously noted, Dunkin' Donuts coffee is sweet angel sweat collected for our unworthy human lips. Being the arrogant race that we are, we've nonetheless attempted to improve upon this liquid happiness. DD allows you to order your coffee in a variety of flavors, to varying degrees of success. What's particularly awesome about the flavoring is that they aren't sweetened (unlike some evil empire's flavors), which means you can still customize your coffee precisely how you want it.

I've taken it upon myself to provide a user's guide for these options. Herewith, a midterm report:

Original (no flavor added): A+. Really. No improvement needed. Therefore, "improve" is the wrong word. Let's just agree that adding flavor is but a different experience--familiar, but incomparable. That's the only fair thing to do.

French Vanilla: A-. Classics never go out of style. I'll likely bookend this little journey with that other stalwart standby, hazelnut.

Blueberry: B-. The newest in the line, and not exactly the slam dunk you might expect. I think it's because DD's coffee isn't roasted that intensely, and fruit essences tend to go with the more nutty flavor of coffee (think orange valencia). I'm not looking forward to raspberry.

Coconut: A. A winner. This is what dreams and puppy dogs are made of.

Cinnamon: C+. Bitter beginning, but then you get used to it. I think it would be better if I liked my coffee sweeter. But since I don't, the cinnamon just sort of sits there.

I Read.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (Mark Haddon).

Totally addictive. The novel is basically a thought experiment in telling a story about searching for a dog's killer from the viewpoint of a boy with autism. That sets up an interesting irony, actually, because the narrator's autism prevents him from being able to empathize with others. It's a tricky act, and it's impossible for me to assess the success of the enterprise--is it an accurate portrayal of autism, or is it an accurate portrayal of the popular notion of autism? What I can say is that from the perspective of literary fiction, it totally works. It exactly finds that balance between opening a peephole into a lesser known world and finding within it the common humanity that helps us understand it better. Also, wicked fast read, which is always a plus.

Even the Cookies Are Against Me.

I took a break from studying for the bar to have lunch at a Chinese restaurant with a friend. My fortune:

"Every truly great accomplishment is at first impossible."

Ruh-roh.

Day 2 of Personal Training: No Puke... Again!

Just a phenomenal effort from all parties, but with special mention to me, for not even coming close to wanting to puke. Granted, this personal training session was only 30 minutes, rather than 45 minutes like the first session, but I still count it as a win.

As a "warm-up," my trainer had me run up and down a set of stairs 3 times. The stair were about -- oh -- 3 flights worth? Maybe a little less? I could handle that part, but what I couldn't handle was the idea of going down the stairs with my body oriented forward. Instead, I kept wanting to side-step it, you know, sort of angling my body to the left so that more of my foot would land on each stair. I think it comes from me not wanting to die.

Fast-forward to the middle of my workout(!), where I'm doing a set(!) with dumbbells(!), a woman comes over and starts sassing me for being scrawny. Good thing it's true, otherwise I'd have punched her in the face. Turns out, she was a former client of my trainer who used to be fat and who was apparently almost 70 years old. There's no way to bloggily do this justice, but she looked like she was in her late-40's. And without any Demi-Moore-ing it, either. This isn't faint praise--it's like personal training really works(!).

James Franco.

I'm probably a little late with this, but I just found it, so to me it's new, and that's all that matters, because I'm the center of the universe.

Anyway, from FunnyOrDie, which gave you Pearl the Landlord, this is a series of videos that James Franco made with his brother. If you're familiar with acting, James Franco, or having an older sibling, then this is especially awesome.

Acting With James Franco Episode 1: "Sense Memory."



Acting With James Franco Episode 2: "Green Screen."



Acting With James Franco Episode 3: "Scene Work."

That's New.

I hate working out, but apparently it's a thing that grownups do to stay alive. Despite the bar's best efforts to usurp every waking (and sleeping) minute of my life, I decided to get one of those trial packs for a personal trainer at my gym.

I've never done personal training. Before today, I didn't even really understand what they do other than yell at you for being weak and needing just. one. more. rep. And yes, I probably judged those people who get a personal trainer for being vain--while secretly wishing that I could have one. So you see, I hate the gym, and I hate working out (because I don't know how? Nah.). But, I'm trying this new thing where I stop thinking so much about stuff and just see what happens.

Well, turns out, what happens is I almost throw up. My trainer did a diagnostic. A diagnostic. I'm talking weighing, blood pressure, "endurance," balance, core, etc. Real, um, basic stuff. And I'm so eager to impress this stranger--whom I'm paying(!)--that I push myself on a diagnostic to the point that I almost puke, actually feel like the room won't stop spinning, and have to lie down in the middle of the gym for a good 10 minutes.

I'm gonna be so hot.

Rip-off.

Unabashedly, I like both Rihanna's new single Take a Bow and Chris Brown's new single Forever. Now, I'm usually okay with whatever pricing structure evil music companies want to impose on consumers. I recognize the difficulties of the current distribution climate. But I still think that the structure has to be fair.

For example, I don't like buying the "single" version of a song on iTunes. I prefer to wait until the album is release as well so that the mp3 tag will be associated with the full album. Who knows? Maybe I want to buy another song from that album, and sometime down the road it is conceivable I might want to listen by album instead of by artist on my iPod. But then I found out that both Take a Bow and Forever aren't lead singles off of new albums--they are new singles included on reissues of Rihanna's and Chris Brown's most recent albums.

That's annoying to digital folk like me, but it's a f***ing rip-off for anyone who shelled out dough for the CD.

Baseball "Brawls."

I caught a bit of Doug Glanville on NPR this afternoon. He's a former baseball player who is currently writing a column for the New York Times. His most recent column is a 1st person rendering of that rare, but bizarre baseball event: the bench-clearing brawl.

His account is hilarious, mostly because I get the sinking feeling that he's not really embellishing. Baseball is kind of a dainty sport (ok, ok, genteel). Couple of tidbits he added on the radio that aren't in the piece:

• Why does the batter take his helmet off when he's charging the mound? (Glanville, you'll be happy to know, was smart enough to keep it on.)
• Some players, typically the stars of a team, are untouchable. Example: Manny Ramirez. He can admire his homeruns as much as he wants. No one is gonna drill him. Unknown batter #8? Watch your back.
  

And my favorite line:

What I found interesting was that instead of Perez and Byrd ripping each other’s hair out, they were locked together in a protective embrace, apologizing and praying to get out of this mass of humanity. Everyone within earshot was wondering why we all risked physical harm for a séance.

Bar/Bri: Day Something or Other.

I can't keep track of what day of Bar/Bri it is anymore. They are all starting to run together. I also don't want to be reminded of just how many more days there are left to go. (The fact that I know that it is only day 5 only matters in that I plead deliberate ignorance. That's not a law term. Don't worry, I'm not that stupid.) But, unlike some people, I'm absolutely willing to complain/comment/adjudicate it every day until I pass the bar. They owe me (read: my firm who's actually paying for it).

I think it's funny that we're already used to the fact that our "lectures" are all done through video, which is both nicely efficient--since we can't ask questions--and an incredible rip off--since we can't ask questions. Case in point: Today, we listened to day 2 of 3 of Contracts, and the professor, who gives the lecture to a live audience (there is always one group who get the lectures live, although they aren't allowed to engage him), occasionally gives instructions just to keep us from falling asleep. He's a good guy. The amusing part is when he says stuff like, "Put down your pens and listen to what I'm about to say next," the majority of people in my class also put down their pens.

Because the mean video playing on the TV screen might think you're rude.

Explain this.

Remember Aladdin's big solo? It popped up on my iTunes, and I remembered that one of the lyrics was confusing. It goes:

Aladdin: Let's not be too hasty!
Land monster: Still I think he's rather tasty!

Does she mean "tasty" as in sexually tasty, gastronomically tasty, or something else?

Cree. Py.

Some movies.

Stardust (2007): A.

I'm not even going to pretend that this movie wasn't awesome. I'm completely serious. It initally caught my eye because I'm a sucker for fantasy movies, but it was on the backburner of my Netflix queue for some reason until I just couldn't take studying for the bar anymore (after only 3 days! who's in denial?). Once it started, I couldn't stop it. Tristan lives in a village called Wall, which borders a mysterious land. When he sees a falling star literally fall there, he vows to retrieve it for a girl he's trying to court. And off he goes.

Sometimes the fantasy genre forgets that even where magic trumps science, stories have to be grounded in rules. That's where Stardust succeeds. Each of Tristan's moves are logically human as he finds Yvaine, the star, and eludes the multiple characters pursuing them, each for their own reasons (that's another highlight -- it's not just a good v. bad tale -- multiple parties with independent objectives cross paths). The movie ends up being more cheeky than ironic, which evokes pleasant comparisons with The Princess Bride without feeling derivative. In the end, it's the best kind of bedtime story: exciting, romantic, and complete.



Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008): C+.

Don't read this if you're the three people who haven't seen the movie yet.

Indiana Jones was always grounded in magic realism of the very best kind. It didn't just look to same ol' mythology we knew and grew to love in 7th grade, with Zeus and Medusa and Odysseus being all kickass. No, Indy had the audacity to dive into religion and basically say, "yup, it's all true." What that did was engage in one of the best academic exercises you'll find at colleges and universities: it viewed the Bible as a historical text while simultaneously tapping into our faith.

And then Part IV shat all over that by giving as aliens. They just don't belong in this movie. Those stories have entirely separate rules from the Indyverse, and it was like none of that mattered. The only identifiable remnants of the original trilogy was that Indy could get into and out of trouble like Britney's... career. Cate and Shia deserve better.



Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008): A-.

Holy shit! Mila Kunis isn't an annoying windbag!