Dear Law Students

I get it. I really do. Law school is hard. It's a sad, scary place that welcomes all formerly normal human beings and transforms them into just massive, massive douchebag A-f*cks with no lives. You know your friend is a law student when they become not so much your friend as a zombie-like creature who has replaced regular use of the English language with an Orwellian-esque lawspeak that makes the listener want to immediately take a lightsaber to said former friend's genital regions. Law school forces a person who used to possess a "soul" and "morals" to become hyper-logical to the point of absurdity. Yes, friend, your logic is flawless. Just because something is logical, however, does not make it right. You are now pretty much just a terrible human being and I probably can't hang out with you ever again. Not that you have the time to actually hang out, anyway, because you're, like, SO busy it takes you two days to answer a text message.

I.AM.SORRY. I call shenanigans on that one, folks! Nobody is that busy. NOBODY. You are not curing cancer. You are not running a country into the ground (except you are definitely part of the problem). And you most certainly are not an indispensable and rampantly narcissistic Blogger-Slash-Bartender-Slash-General Layabout. You are just not as important as you seem to think you are (or as I seem to think I am, for that matter. Yikes...).

Anyway, I have questions. If law school is so effing difficult, WHY are there so many godforsaken ambulance chasers oozing about the place? It seems to me that the administration has taken to shooting JD's out of tshirt guns at sporting events, so how hard can it be REALLY? (Come on. You can't swing a dead cat in this city without hitting a lawyer these days) (Ooh, I know a few law students I'd love to just whack in the head with a rotting feline corpse, though, don't you?! Fun times.). Also, roughly 80% of the law students I have met are 100% grade-A MORONS who drive around in moron mobiles and drink moron coffee every moron morning (SO they're morons is what you're trying to say, Marisa? Good talk). As in they are downright UN-smart people. I literally have met a law student who didn't know that they speak English in ENGLAND. Seriously, she was all "Wait, you lived in England? DO YOU SPEAK FRENCH?" That's when I spit at her, pulled her hair and ran away because...I mean...wouldn't you?

To conclude this somewhat timely rant...Oh, screw it, if you're one of my friends who is in law school, your opinion is (to use terminology that your brain is capable of processing) null and void, and I'm probably not speaking to you anymore anyway unless you've somehow managed to maintain some semblance of humor and personality, which is exceedingly unlikely in these dangerous times. You may now return to your regularly scheduled douchebaggery. Good day.

As for the rest of you...keep fighting the good fight. Arm yourselves heavily and tomorrow, try to slap at least one law student across their stupid, smug, moron face. Do it for me. And for what's left of humanity. Good night and good luck.

Living The Dream, Obvs...

So, things have started to get pretty real around these parts lately, which is why I haven't written in weeks. Sorry about that. It just is what it is. I bet you're wondering where I've been, right? Of course you are. I bet it just keeps you up at night, doesn't it? No? Bueller?

Fine, but I'm going to tell you anyway. I have been bartending (or as I like to think of it, "bizartending"). A whole bunch. Which means I now do even more hanging out in bars than I did previously. Which is equal parts distressing and awesome. The distressing part is that bartending has made me come to realize that I'm functionally retarded sometimes. You see, when I say "bartending" I mean that I can serve you a nice cold beer or make you something consisting of no more than two ingredients. If you ask me for anything more complex than a gin and tonic, I retreat into my shell of panicked stuttering and skulk away for ten minutes to consult the Mixologist App on my iPhone. And then I still fuck it up like 9 times out of 9. But we're learning, and that's what's important, yes? Shut your face and drink your liquor, a-thank you very much.

I know what you're thinking. I used to be one of those smug, overeducated assholes with a "future" and "pants without holes in them" (as they say). It seems that I've entered my rebellious stage later in life. Whilst my peers are working normal hours, planning their weddings, and gestating their fetuses (fetii...?), I can be found serving liquor while wearing jean shorts and a pushup bra. And, yes, my job is way more fun than yours and I don't have to wait til 5 o'clock every day to drown my sorrows should the need arise, but you probably make a lot more money than I do and you probably don't have to dress like Daisy Duke to do it. Well, you can keep your dignity and financial stability, friend. I'll take booze and creepy Mexicans offering me $200 for "services" any day. Ugh. This post hurts, kind of.

Another plus of this particular gig is that Mommy Dearest (or "Smother", as she has come to be known around the "office") absolutely gets her panties all up in a twist about me hanging out in bars all the time. Because evidently I'm still 15. Also, aren't we just loving the fact that she refers to my JOB as "hanging out" in a bar?! I know I am. Except it's killing my soul one tiny, tiny piece at a time.

Ok, this post needs to end because it's stressing me out and it may or may not be giving me a mild arrhythmia. Anyway, that's basically what's up these days. I just haven't had the energy to be snarky and self-involved (the two highest-prized qualities of great bloggers the world over, incidentally), but I promise I will write again as soon as I have the time or something ludicrous happens to me. In the mean time, you can all find me at the Rendon Inn, 4501 Eve Street. If you visit, I will bartend your face off. Then you shall tip me. I'm told that's how this works. KTHANKS!

P.S. The photo above is a picture of something I absolutely CAN NOT do. Because I'm not Tom Cruise in Cocktail and because I suck at life. Seriously, why did they not teach me how to do THAT in school?! Gah.