"Mean, Hateful, and Dead in the Eyes:" Random Musings by way of Introduction

Discussion from Tuesday:
Why don't undergrads stay out of the law library? More specifically, why for the love of everything holy, do they insist on sitting at one of 1st floor computers in front of the sign that tells them they can't sit on the first floor. Not like the law library is a hoppin' joyful place. You can cut the tension with a knife. Hell, during finals, the dysfunction level is so high even I can't stand to hang out there. And yet, the undergrads wait for study passes in droves. Dude, WHY?
Amanda points out that law students are not fun to be around. We are "mean, hateful, and dead in the eyes." That about sums it up. To the undergrads: Trust us.

Maybe you think you will meet an attractive and sensitive law student who will someday become an attractive, sensitive, and wealthy lawyer.

Trust me, you won't. We're not sensitive. In fact, right now, we're thinking of how best to report you to the librarians and get you kicked out. Not because you're distracting us. Because we envy the absence of a suicidal glaze in your eyes. And covet the book on developmental psychology with the pretty pictures of babies and rhesus monkeys. Because you have a one subject notebook and a pen with a fuzzy feather top. Because your school books fit in a tote bag. And because being mean to you makes us feel good.

And the wealthy thing? Yeah, most of us graduate with at least a hundred grand in student debt.
Take my advice: Run. Like. Hell.

Law school is an experiment designed to test how high one's blood pressure can be pushed before that little vein in your forehead pops. Exhibit A: I wanted popcorn before Con Law. Something to munch on for 100 minutes of Procedural Due Process, just to take the edge off. A non-law student, or one who is on drugs, proceeds to make the already glacial pace of Spazzy's, the craptastic, monopoly-holding coffee shop, EVEN SLOWER by starting a conversation about the dates on his dimes. I am not making this up. It might have even been something as scintillating about the new state quarter he got. Doesn't matter. I mean, the baristas can't even walk and chew gum at the same time. Don't distract them. I refrained from ripping his throat out with my teeth only because I figure it would create messy (ha!) questions during my character and fitness interview.

So, this, by way of disturbing introduction, is me. Welcome to the outlet of all the random and inane musings that float into my mind. Oh, and the occasional rant, George tells me to warn you about the ranting. Maybe more than occasional rants. George, by the by, does a mean Eliza Doolittle impression.

Format: Mostly, stream of consciouness. I do enough editing in real life. I will probably edit a little bit anyway because I'm insane. First names only, nicknames where only first names would be ambiguous. And, sometimes, I'll just make up the names. Because, hey, it's fun.

Sidenote: I LOVE Alex Karev. Yes, he's a fictional doctor (from Grey's Anatomy). Get over it. If you can't appreciate my love of tv show characters, I don't need your love. Don't judge me.

My cable is blinky and not-worky and the crap "signal" that Comcast sent me has not helped. It is RUINING my Grey's Anatomy viewing experience. Now I'm pissed that I didn't take the stupid survey so that I could tell Comcast how much they suck at anything remotely approaching customer service. I only pay a bajillion dollars (and sixty-seven cents!) a month for their ass-tastic cable and interwebs. Why bother making sure the freakin' service works? If I ever have the guy who makes Comcast the evil empire it is today in my clutches, I will make him scream like an ant being fried under a magnifying glass. Maybe that's even how I'll do it.

Maybe I AM mean, hateful, and dead in the eyes.

Stay tuned.