Busy as a Bee:

Well, I've hit the fall semester with my feet running! With the start of classes, the Fall Show, and OCI, it's been quite busy and will be for some time.

It's Official:

I'm old. I have found another grey hair. Up from 4, it's now 5. So this is why Adam dyes his.

Summer Movie List:

Well, it's been a productive summer, but it officially ends tomorrow with the first day of class for my 2L year. So, here is what I have accomplished this summer, and my thoughts:

Movies:

• Superbad: If you like vulgar, raunchy, sophomoric humor and penis jokes (and who doesn't?), this is the best movie ever.
• Stardust: Perhaps I can't be objective since the book is one of my favorites. I recommend reading the book then seeing the movie.
  
• The Simpsons Movie: It really was like watching a good, long episode of "The Simpsons."
  
• The Invasion: Rental.
• Hairspray: High energy, very entertaining, even if it cut one of my favorite songs.
• Waitress: Good movie, but the doctor was lame. I did love Matlock, though.
  
• Sicko: Good conversation-starter, does make you think about our health care system, but it does misrepresent aspects of other "better" health care systems.
• Spiderman 3: Better than what I was expecting.
• Pirates 3: Way more complicated than necessary, but I do love me some pirates.
• Paris je t'aime: Great directors, fantastic actors, range of emotions; I loved it. Although I don't think I'll ever understand the hairdresser sequence.
  
• Music and lyrics: I want an hour and a half of my life back.
• The Good Shepherd: I want three hours of my life back.

In Mass. en masse

It's September, and everyone is coming to Cambridge. Whether it's the wide-eyed 1Ls, my fellow excited 2Ls, or the graduation-ready 3Ls, it's about time for classes to start. But before that, it's been a lot of wandering around the city, running errands, and seeing the eclectic mix of 02138: New England bluebloods and wannabes, townies, hipsters or anyone else sporting an oh-so-clever graphic tee and a smug sense of conformist rebellion, students from Harvard to Lesley, and old friends. It's good to be back.

Best Day of my Life:

Deary Diary:
So, we went to the Original Pancake House for breakfast today. I ordered the bacon and eggs (two eggs, four strips of hearty bacon, and three buttermilk pancakes). When the waiter gave us our food, I discovered that I had 5 strips of bacon! I can now die a happy man.

Good-Bye Workforce; Hello Laziness

Yesterday was my last day at work. I was busy working on briefs all the way until 5:00, and it was exciting up until the end. It's always weird and hard for me to say good-bye. Even though I spent a short 10 weeks at the office, I really did love it, and I'm going to miss the attorneys and some of my fellow interns. No longer shall I see my 8:30 bus regulars. The little old man with the portfolio, the stout woman with the windbreaker, or the man that I always wanted to ask where he got his black pants because they were just perfect. I am no longer a part of the work force. I have left the legions of men heading downtown in their business casual attire. Sure, I wasn't wearing the requisite double-pleated khakis and blue shirt every day, but they were still my brothers. My sartorially-impaired brothers.

Now what's left? Another trip to Des Moines with Adam, Liz, and Mother to see the aunts and Grandmom. Then a week of being a giant bum, heading back to Cambridge and being a giant bum for another week, then school starts. Where I shall continue to be said giant bum.

Health Update


Little Spencer's kidneys are back to their normal levels! Yay! He was released from the veterinarian's today, and was just as happy and sweet as ever. Not to mention crazy. So thanks to everyone who had been keeping him in your thoughts and prayers.

Dear Diary,

OMG! It's official now that it's on facebook!

So That's What's Under Those Judicial Robes . . .

Recently, I discovered that one of the elderly gentlemen that goes to the same gym that I do is actually a federal district judge. Apparently, for the past several weeks, I've been working out next to him, and I didn't even know that worked in my building, let alone that he could have been ruling on my work. Not to mention I've seen him several times in the locker room. Infer at will.

A Midsummer Night's Dream:

I don't know why, but lately I've been having strange dreams. Some seem pretty straightforward to interpret (e.g. law review or producing the fall show), whereas others are more troubling. I haven't been eating anything late at night. And my days haven't been stressful or anything like that. Work has been slow and steady. Perhaps that's the reason--my day to day life is simple, so my dreams become more interesting. Or maybe I just haven't been paying attention to anything below the surface. Of course, being superficial, that's what I do: focus on the surface. Is my subconscious trying to tell me something?

Thank God for AC in DC.

I spent the 4th of July weekend in DC. And by "weekend" I mean Wed-Sun. This time around, I flew Delta. Much better than US Airways with their vast conspiracy to defraud me out of my hard-earned money by some elaborate "air traffic" scheme. Bastards.

Anyhoo. I had never been to DC before and this was my opportunity to see the sights, visit the museums, get a feel for the city as a potential practice area, and of course, see Jordan and Spencer! This meant a lot of walking. Apparently, DC is hot in the summer. Who knew? Thank the gods for air conditioning, though. Seriously, how did people live there without it? I think the only time it really cooled down was when there was a brief torrential downpour. Which happened to coincide exactly with me leaving the National Archives to the metro. I had a blast as a tourist, seeing the museums (National Gallery and Portrait Gallery were wonderful) and the monuments. However, the Smithsonian was a tad disappointing, since there were so many freakish children all around me. Plus, the American History one was closed! I wanted to see Archie Bunker's chair, dag nabbit! Also, when on the mall (which by the way, there was no Banana Republic. Not even a food court. What the hell kind of mall is that?) I ran into a friend from freshman year of college. Small world, huh?

The sights were great, as was the food (except for Agraria by the waterfront. Boooooo. Made me sick later in the evening). But I don't know how I felt about the city itself. On the one hand, I'm a big history dork, so I love it. But on the other hand, I didn't get a vibe. In the past, I tend to get a good gut sense as to whether some place is the right fit for me. I had it when I visited both Marquette and Harvard. But DC? Nothing. Neither positive nor negative. Well, that didn't clear anything up as I begin to start thinking about planning for contemplating Fall OCI and the rest of my life.

Omablah

Well, this past weekend was my long-awaited trip to Omaha for my cousin's wedding. Can you sense the sarcasm and bitterness already? Oh, the bitterness is not directed at my cousin Cori. No, it's not her fault that she scheduled her wedding the same weekend as prom. I guess. What upsets me is that my mother guilted me into going. Now, as mothers do, this is just par for the course, right? Well, more than simply guilt me, she depended on me to go with because she decided to drive there. From Madison. Which meant I had to leave work early on Friday, get in a car into Madison (1.5 hours), then depart from Madison to Des Moines (5 hours), arrive at 1:00AM, get up and leave Des Moines at 9:00AM for Omaha (2 hours). Round trip, this comes out to 17 hours in the car for yours truly. Since Mother has a lot of knee problems these days (she does actually need to get it replaced. Never mind that she spent decades ruining it by playing competitive tennis when she was told that she shouldn't.). Oh, but we brought Mother's boyfriend, John, along for the ride. Sure, he doesn't say much, or anything, but he sure was there to help for the drive. That whole hour of it. Yeah, he's so worthwhile. I'm so glad that we were able to spend 17 hours in the car for a minimalist (read: lame) ceremony. It wasn't even a full Mass. I want my Jesus! But I guess nobody asked me. Followed by an ok reception (actually followed by a 2 hour break). The best part was seeing my cousin Morgan (Cori's sister and the maid of honor) make a drunken fool out of herself. I think she flashed a 10 year old boy on the dance floor. No joke. But was that really worth seeing my asshole of an uncle tell me that I needed a haircut, I should have worn a white shirt, and the shirt I had on didn't fit. Not to mention all sorts of other crazy ramblings about the "liberal media." Finally, we left the reception. For those of you not familiar with Omaha, there are these extremely weird bronze statues they have of running animals. It feels like there's going to be some kind of stampede. If we hadn't been absolutely exhausted and disgustingly full, there would have been some classy photo ops. Maybe next time I go to Omaha. Oh wait. That will be never. Never again.

US Airways: Bane of My Existence

So, it's finally time to leave the South for Milwaukee. We're taking the bridal couple to the airport with us so they can leave on their honeymoon to Europe (awww, how cute). Perhaps we shouldn't have stopped at Sonic first, but who doesn't love it? Running slightly behind, we made it to the Memphis airport. We get on the flight and make it to the Charlotte airport. Now begins the hell.

My flight was canceled. Why? Technical difficulties? Weather? No. "Air Traffic." Apparently, this is a condition where the FAA says the airline has to cancel a flight, and guess what? The airline isn't liable! How convenient! When asked, the airline personnel explained it to me as this: "There are too many planes in the air." Hmmmm.... sure. So, can they get me on the next flight? Well, of course, everything is overbooked to Milwaukee until the next day, which is when I start work! Well, that's just super. But, they were so nice, they offered to fly me into Chicago, arriving at 9PM. But they offered me nothing more than that. Not a connecting shuttle, or anything. Apparently, that's as far as they had to help me. It's really the fact that they were so willing to go the extra mile. That's what makes "US Airways" so special. So, I get on the plane, make it to Chicago, then get on a bus into Milwaukee (on my own dime) just fine, right? Well, no. Of course, the plane is delayed over an hour. This puts me in Chicago waiting at the baggage claim until past 10PM, when the last shuttle for Milwaukee has already left. Oh, but that's not enough. My bag didn't even arrive! So, I go to the luggage counter, and asked for their help. The lady behind the counter informed me that my bag was probably sent to Milwaukee, since that was the original destination. Then she tried making some calls, but realized that everything had already left. So, she turned to the two men (father and son) next to me, and asked them if they were going to Milwaukee. They said yes, and she asked how. They said they were driving. "Oh, well this young man [me] needs to get there. Would you be able to take them?" Well, if that isn't just awkward! Well, luckily, the first helpful people that I had met all day happened to be citizens of the great state of Wisconsin, who offered to give me a ride into Milwaukee. I was desperate, so I took it. They seemed nice enough, and judging by their car, they were upper-middle class at least, so I wasn't too afraid to ride the hour with them. The important thing is that I was there safe and sound. Just without a lot of my dress clothes, dress shoes, or toiletries. So, I was ready to start work the next day!

I had everything planned so wonderfully for my first day of work. The plan definitely did not include me shaving with Julie's extra Lady Bic disposable razor and "Melon Madness" shaving gel, without me washing my hair, since I had no product to put in it! But, luckily I still had my suits in the garment bag which I had carried on my flights. So, on my first day I was still able to wear a suit and tie. And a bitter, bitter hatred towards US Airways.

Part IV: Better Off Wed So, twas time for the wedding itself. A lovely ceremony indeed (even though I didn't get to be the crucifix bearer as I was during the rehearsal. What can I say, those years of being an altar server really paid off.). I think I have yet to see a bride walk down the aisle without crying. It's kind of cute, actually. Now the fun part: the reception. Back at the Big Pink Guest House, it was time to drink and eat my fill. This was supposed to be some very Southern cooking: BBQ sandwiches, catfish poppers, fried green tomato sandwiches, cheese grits, jalapeno squares, chicken salad, mini-drumsticks. It was amazing. Plus, the wedding cake was unbelievable. Sooo good. I would have eaten my own weight in it if I could. In fact, I think I tried to do that the next morning. In addition to eating and drinking, there was requisite dancing. I couldn't help it. "Fever" is one of my favorite songs. Understandably, we were recognized as the cutest couple there (ok, cutest couple that wasn't getting married). Next, it was time for the after-party, celebrated at the blues club across the street. It was a roaring good time. Except for the fact that the kids (i.e. 18 year olds--I can call them kids now) did not know how to drink and dance at the same time. They were a tad annoying. Spilling, bumping, stepping on toes, all rookie mistakes. Ah, but we were all young, once. Of course, the night--and the trip to the South--couldn't last forever. All good things must come to an end. So went my journey into Dixie.

Part III: Nice Day for a White Wedding

Saturday was the big day. Time for Crady and Brad to get hitched. But first, food. Nothing starts the day off quite right like a greasy spoon diner. While I would have enjoyed biscuits and gravy, I was quite happy with the food they had. Amazing pancakes. Also, there was a dog (7 month old chocolate lab that was very cute and still awkward since he hadn't grown into his body yet). After playing fetch with the dog in the diner, it was time to go. Outside, we met Puttin'-- a somewhat elderly man sitting outside the diner who showed us some dice tricks.

Shack-Up Inn: Clarksdale's B&B (Bed & Beer). Apparently, this used to be a plantation. Then, they turned the sharecroppers' shacks into rooms to rent (this is where Brad & Crady went post-wedding. Indeed.) I think this was when the South started to frighten me. And not just because the Mississippi flag incorporates the "Stars and Bars." It's all fun and games until somebody secedes. Not being able to take much more of the heat and the "Southern Charm," it was time for the brunch. Yay for food and booze! Now, like any good brunch, they served Bloody Mary's. However, once again, I am faced with the realization that people do not know how to make a good Bloody Mary. Allow me to take this tangential opportunity to elaborate:

Andrew's Bloody Mary Manifesto:
1.) A good one is not simply mix + vodka. If that's all you have, then Mr. & Mrs. T's Bloody Mary Mix is the way to go (especially spicy). But frankly, you should not stop there.
2.) It needs celery. Not a pickle. Not pepperoni. Not pepper jack cheese. Celery. (Incidentally, this is just about the only time I enjoy celery).
3.) It should not be too liquidy. It needs to be somewhat viscous. A watery (or too vodka-heavy) is no good.

What's a sure-fire way to avoid the pitfalls of the Bloody Mary? Well, it's an art, not a science. So I can't give an exact recipe. But here's what we do:

1. Start with a glass filled with ice. Cubed, not crushed (otherwise they melt quickly, leading to watery disaster).
2. Add Lemon Pepper, Celery Salt, Tabasco Sauce, followed by generous amounts of Worcestershire sauce.
   
3. Add desired amount of vodka.
4. Add Spicy V8 (or Mr. & Mrs.T).
5. Taste! Add any more ingredients to balance.
6. Add celery.
   
7. Now you have the perfect instrument to survive any family gathering!

Now that I am done digressing, I shall continue. Post-brunch, it was time to take a nap. Good food and a little vodka will do that. Following the nap, I headed on down to the Delta Blues Museum. I don't know a lot (ok, anything) about the blues. However, I do enjoy museums and history, so I was not going to turn down this opportunity. I'm glad I went. It was a really cool museum (I think it used to be a train depot. If not, prove me wrong).

It's Always More Fun South of the Mason-Dixon Part II: Blues Country

After finishing our Memphis-leg, it was time to head down to the Mississippi Delta for the wedding.

Our first stop was at "Chick-Fil-A." Now, I am not familiar with this particular chicken restaurant, but apparently it is some kind of classic drive-through. It was indeed a tasty treat. I had a plain chicken sandwich (and dipped it in some honey mustard. De lee cee us.) with waffle fries. Yum. Finally it was time to head over to the bridal brunch. This was where I really was able to delve into the southern ways (including "Shrimp & Grits"-perhaps a name for a great buddy cop show in the 70s? I shall work on that). I met the bride-to-be, Crady Yerger Bobo, her mother, the bridesmaids, and some other women. I began the count of how many times someone called me/referred to me as a Yank(ee). Trip Total: 7.

After feeling a little too much estrogen (yes, even for me, and that's saying something!) I politely excused myself to the Bobo household where I could go back to reading (Lies My Teacher Told Me). After almost falling asleep on the couch, (that would have been an awkward experience), it was time to get to the Big Pink Guest House (shown above-it was a little odd telling Mother that I was staying at the "Big Pink Guest House." Although, I guess it's better than saying "The Shack Up Inn" see next installment) to start setting things up for the reception. This is also where we would be staying. Since we got there first, we took the good room. You could tell it was the good room because the curtains were made out of Hawaiian shirts. And apparently a hammock, but nowhere to attach it. Sad. But I got over it.

After helping out, twas time to go to the reception. It was a lovely place (co-owned by Morgan Freeman!) with great food. When I asked what was for dinner, I was told "Filet mignon and stuffed chicken." Naturally, I assumed this meant I had a choice between the two. Nope. I got both! Needless to say, I was in heaven. MMMMmmmmmmmeat. There was much merriment, drinking, and a slideshow! But eventually, twas time for bed.

It's Always More Fun South of the Mason-Dixon (Part I)

Last Thursday, at 5:20 AM, I departed Milwaukee to begin my journey into the South. First stop? Connecting flight in Charlotte, NC.

Before departing on this trip, I recognized that I would have a stereotype of the South: backwards, slow, twangy (is that a word?). So I tried to separate myself from that bias. However, upon visiting the Charlotte airport, I realized that the South is indeed a different place. It seems to be catching up slowly, and is somewhere between the contemporary and Reconstruction. You can see this as you watch the planes land while sitting in a rocking chair. The airport has rocking chairs! Ok, maybe I'm the only one intrigued by these simple, somewhat backwards ways. Regardless, I was able to meet up with Jordan (although not at the right gate--I can't read or write) to get on the second leg of our trip. Next stop: Memphis, Tennessee.

Upon arriving in Memphis, we did the most natural thing. Visit Graceland. Being the proud Elvis fans that we are, the platinum package was a no-brainer. I mean, why stop at just the mansion, when you can also see the car museum? Or the airplanes? Ok, we didn't see the airplanes. Whatever. The point is this: go to Graceland. It's completely worth it, even if you just go there to see a sort of time capsule of 1970s extravagance. I mean, it's like stepping into the past--a past where I didn't exist. Two words: Jungle Room. Two more words: shag carpet (on the walls, ceiling, and bed). Of course, if I could have filled out a comment card, it would have been this: did we really need to take a shuttle bus across the street to the mansion? Even if they wanted to avoid traffic and people being hit by cars, clearly the answer should be to have a walkway over the street. Preferably a moving walkway.

After we left Graceland, it was time to check in to the Peabody Hotel downtown. And yes, we saw the ducks. For those who aren't familiar with the excitement over this seemingly simple event, allow me to elaborate. The Peabody is famous for its ducks. They live on the roof, and every morning they take the elevator down to the lobby at 11:00 AM, taking the red carpet to the fountain. Then, promptly at 5:00 PM, the ducks take the red carpet, up the elevator, and back to the roof. Of course, they are accompanied by the Duck Master and some honorary Duck Master (Apparently, not me. some "child." Whatever. I'm not bitter.).

Next, we went out to dinner at Rendezvous for some Memphis BBQ. Pulled pork nachos? Perhaps one of the best things that I have ever had in my life. The ribs were good. Now, perhaps I'm simply a Memphis BBQ Philistine, but I prefer my ribs to be drenched in sauce. This was more of a rub. It was good, but to me, great would have required approximately 25 pre-moistened towelettes. Give or take. Especially their BBQ sauce (from the nachos), which was amazing. Oh well.

After gorging myself on food and beer, we walked around a bit, then took in a movie. Fracture. What can I say? I love my A-Hop (aka "Anthony Hopkins"). I definitely recommend it. At least for a rental or the cheap seats. Of course, I'm now at the point where any kind of legal thriller leaves me with the question: "Is that how that would really work?" I hate myself sometimes. But I love Memphis!

On the Road Again

I just returned from my trip to Des Moines with Adam, Buckley, and Hank. I feel as though I never need to eat again. All we do in Iowa is sit around and eat. Don't get me wrong, it's pretty great at first. But it's not too long until eventually you can't take any more rich food. Perhaps if I had some willpower, I would know when to stop drizzling Gorgonzola sauce on everything. Then, I might not have more "casual vomit" experiences. Yum. But it was a good time, nonetheless. We were able to cross our visit with our cousin Morgan, who is just a hoot. She couldn't get enough of the impressions Adam and I would do of our mom. It's uncanny really. But what do you expect after 23 years of watching her, 23 years of honing our craft. Some people think it's odd that Adam and I will drive for about 7-8 hours on day 1, stay all of day 2, then leave on the morning of day 3. However, over the years, we have realized that this is the maximum amount of time we can spend in Iowa without going completely crazy. A second full day would simply end in a combination of hostility and painful boredom the likes of which have not been seen before. But don't get me wrong, it's definitely worth the trip, and not simply because we're pampered for those few hours. It's a good time to get to see our aunts and cousins, not to mention Grandmom. However, I don't like to hear the talk of how good it is we were able to visit this summer because she probably won't make it to Christmas. And I had to hold back the tears when Grandmom was asking me if I could remember the times when she was more active and stronger, because she didn't want my last memories of her to her sitting in her chair all day. I promised her that they wouldn't be, and I told her that my fondest memories were the afternoons that I would spend at her house after Kindergarten. But, enough of the seriousness.

So, Adam and I returned last night, watched The Devil Wears Prada (teaching me once again that I should become in-house counsel for a fashion corporation--that is the right message, isn't it?), and went to bed without dinner, since we were still full from the eating extravaganza. Tonight I'm hauling my stuff over to my apartment with Julie and Jackie, then packing up for my trip to Memphis and Mississippi, when I get to see Jordan!

Enter Summer

Well, I turned in the Law Review competition yesterday, so now my summer can begin. I was awakened this morning by Adam saying "Wakey wakey, eggs and bac-ey!" And there were! And pancakes too! With cinnamon! Yum! Now what to do with my time? I've been keeping busy with reading, watching movies, and playing with the "nephews" -- Hank and Buckley. I'm already a little bored, and it's wonderful. I forgot about the feeling of having nothing on my mind, nothing to do. Simply wonderful. Damn, it's really boring. Can't wait to start work on June 4th!

"No More Teachers' Dirty Looks "

I think the majority opinion is that this phrase refers to looks of disdain, not looks of the "come hither" or undressing variety. Anyway. . . Well, I'm out of my Cambridge apartment for the summer and currently living with my brother until the new lease starts for the summer! The last few days in town were a bit of a whirlwind, what with rapidly finishing up finals, celebrating with food and booze (both starting around noon), and of course, watching The Little Mermaid. What more is there to life? I wouldn't know because right now it's almost midnight and I'm in the basement, reading cases and law review articles as I work on the Harvard Law Review competition. Fun times, no? Man, something this brutal should be over quickly--much like the ill-fated game of dodgeball with the Drama Society team. We never saw it coming.

Even though I have been hard at work (sort of), there has also been a good deal of fun: getting to see my Julie and Jackie (and others), watching movies, eating, you name it! Even though I'm sad to be away from all of all the wonderful people I've met at Harvard, and I even miss some of them, it is refreshing to be in a new/old locale for a change of pace and scenery.