Friday, September 28, 2007

Fish, meet Bicycle. Bicycle, Fish.

I have a graduate assistantship through the university, and about 90 percent of my job is getting ready for two enormous annual conventions. This year, on top of my normal event planning duties, I’ve been given the additional task of raising student volunteers. A task that had traditionally been tackled by another, much more capable G.A.

Since that much-more-capable-G.A. still works here, she’s pretty much still tackling that task, even though I’m “in charge” of it. The tiiiiiiny amount of work I really do in furtherance of finding any volunteers is laughable.

I bring this all up because I thought you might like to know the origin of a new phrase that will soon become globally popular. Now you’ll know what they’re talking about when someone says “she was as much use to me as a Mike Garvey in a volunteer-raising effort.” Then someone else will yell, “OH SNAP!”. It’ll be funny, I promise.

Or, perhaps it’ll be reflective. Like, “When my wife went into labor, all the doctors and nurses were running around, doing everything. I felt like Mike Garvey trying to get someone to volunteer for something.” And then someone will say, “Oh no, I’m sure you weren’t THAT hopelessly useless.”

And you'll nod, knowingly.

Vito would be pissed.

And to top it all off...

no one noticed I got my hairs did.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Just a temporary side-effect of the unfreezing.

I pulled into my driveway this past weekend, after a long drive into the city from East Aurora. Lisa was at work, and I had a tired, cranky baby in tow. My neighborhood, I immediately noticed, was like a Buffalonian Times Square – which isn’t to say Disney had taken over, but just that it was danged busy.

As I lugged my tired and cranky baby out of the ‘nox, I heard a passerby declare his adoration for this year’s Tour of Kitchens. Ah. There it is. Buffalo so loves its effort to keep up with the Joneses, that we institutionalized it. We have a Tour of Kitchens, a Garden Walk, a Come See My Latrine, a Potted Fichus Walkabout, an Upstairs Guest Bedroom Bonanza, a Tour of Houses that Way Overdo it With Christmas Decorations, etc. They’re like pub crawls for hip adults.

(I poke fun, but once my tree grows up, I’m going to kick ass in the Look What My Lawn Gives Me When I Don’t Mow in One Tiny Area for a Summer Tour of Homes.)

Anyway, as I was pulling baby and baby supplies out of the car, I saw one of the big-wigs under whom I’d worked this past summer. She and her friend were across the street, poring over a map of my neighborhood. I’ll call her Carole.

Now, I use my brain for a few things, but apparently, only a limited number at any one time. In the half second before I called out her name, here, I believe, is how I maxed out my mental capacity:
1. “I should say hello. Carole’s a senior veep. Network network network!”
2. “I have a tired and cranky baby in my arm. In my other arm, I have a baby bag. How will I shake hands?” (I swear I thought this. This is how insane I am.)
3. “What in the hell is her last name? Fuck it, on Tour of Kitchens day, everyone is on a first name basis.”
4. Breathe.
5. Don’t pee yourself.
6. Continue heart beating.

You’ll notice my brainbox had a lot going on. Normally, I assume, there is a glob of gray matter I use to estimate how far away a person is, and how loudly I need to call her name to get her attention. This glob, you’ll also notice, was being used for one of the other abovementioned tasks.
“CAIR-RULL!!!!”, I bleated to a woman who was about fifteen feet away from me.

I’m still getting phone calls from Caroles in the closer parts of Pennsylvania who are just checking in to see what I wanted.

Luckily, my Carole was very gracious about it. (A Tour of Kitchens Day miracle!) She picked up her map and came over to shake my hand, which, as I feared, didn’t win back any style points for me.

At least I didn’t pee myself.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Word from the inside

So school has started. More pencils. More books. Even more teachers’ dirty looks. Weeee.

Classes are actually going well enough, I suppose. I figured this semester was really going to be a ball breaker since I’m overloading (18 credit hours per week) and working (20 hours per week) and calming a teething baby (>168 hours per week). But I lucked out in that most of my teachers are fairly, comparatively, laid back. Keep in mind “laid back” for a law school professor just means they only break the hopes and dreams of three or four young minds instead of the normal eight to twelve in a day. But I’ll take what I can get.

I signed up for a history course about law in America. It’s called American Legal History. I’ve had a few weeks of this class now, and the previous sentence represents everything I’ve learned so far. Just so’s you know, legal history class ≠ history class. It actually means you’re changing things up by reading reeeeeally old cases instead of just somewhat old cases.

I’m also taking a class on IP, which is interesting, especially for someone who wants to become a corporate lawyer. Not to mention we get to read cases about Toucan Sam, lingerie, or video games. Notice I said “or”. Although a case about Toucan Sam wearing a teddy and playing Goldeneye would be a welcome diversion…

I’m also learning about Federal Income Tax. I like this professor – it isn’t really interesting material (c’mon, it’s TAX) but she keeps it moving and the text is well written and oh my God who am I kidding it’s painfully boring. I’m in this particular class right now, sitting about halfway back, and at the moment I can see perhaps thirty computer screens. In all seriousness, I can only see FOUR that are open to class notes. (If you’re interested, the rest are divided among: hotmail, gmail, myspace, an article on WebMD, an E! bit on the Emmys, a guy’s fantasy football team (or is it stock prices? they all look the same to me), and yes, Bryan, I even see one guy who has his computer open to the Kingdom of Loathing.)

What else? I’m happy with Trial Tech because I landed good witnesses (more on that later). New York Practice is going to be tolerable because the professor is a talker. The grad assistanceship is… ever-present.

The job search buh-lows. That deserves its own post. I did hold the door open for a guy this morning who turned out to be a senior partner at an area firm. I’m hoping that develops itself into a holleywood-esque plotline where I get a corner office just because someone liked my moxie. “No, you’re right, Billingsly, that Mike Garvey may not be in the top ten percent of his class, but he held the door open for me! That’s the kind of chutzpah I want in this office! He reminds me of another young buck I knew so long ago who held the door in just the same way... a young buck... named Billingsly...” That’s how I see it playing out.

Oh, wait, my professor just broke my hopes and dreams, so forget that last paragraph. Back to the tax code.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Once more around the rosary

A friend, who has made me laugh out loud before, goes under the knife at 1:30pm eastern today. I, and I’m certain his family, would appreciate any spare prayers you have laying around.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Here’s a joke that’s really only funny when said aloud.

What do you call a fish with no eyes?

A fsh.


Friday, September 07, 2007

Pajamas optional

I wasn't going to post this, but I've had it going through my mind for days. You must share the pain with me.

Props where props are due: Looky Daddy

48,066 feet (and just as many cavities) to go

A friend here at work took up the hobby of stringing her Starburst wrappers into a chain. It’s about 11 feet long now. That’s an effing lot of wrappers.

Not the most though. From Wikipedia:

“Gary Duschl won a Guinness World Record for the longest gum wrapper chain, officially recorded at 48,077 feet… In Duschl's step-by-step instructions on how to make a gum wrapper chain, he states that it is possible to make a chain, of the same size as that of a gum wrapper, out of a Starburst wrapper.”

So let’s do the math. If my work friend estimates that her 11 foot chain contains about 275 wrappers, how bored do I need to be to continue this post?

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

It's the first day of school!

And, God willing, my last. Good luck to everyone else who's starting this week. Make sure you take a picture, and don't forget your new superman backpack.