It's cold across the pond

So I decided to check the weather for the eagerly anticipated Raisins bar trip. We're doing about 2 1/2 weeks split between Dublin and Amsterdam. I foolishly thought I could just travel light like I always do, with about 20 wifebeaters and a few pairs of jeans. But no, it's a little chilly over there. Which means a little more planning has to go into packing, which pisses me off. No wonder the Irish came over here in waves. Famine my ass. They finally figured out that the weather there sucks. I'm sure someone out there is thinking that I should be glad to be getting a vacation from the heat. But I don't mind the heat. What I really hate is being cold. And for me, that means the temperature is under 85. Yes, I'm a sissy. Never said I wasn't.

And the highlight of my weekend was hearing my future mother in law saying, "Oh yes, I love being high." I was talking about the benefits of the SUV. I'm not sure that she was. And it was awesome.

Why am I up?

My party peeps and I pretty much called it a night early enough that I was asleep on the couch by 10. All the food I ate last night apparently wasn't sufficient to protect me from a pounding headache. I was going to sleep in and yet I was awake at 7:30. I hate it when that happens. My first chance to sleep in for a while and I'm up at 7:30. Dammit. Now I have to waste a whole day instead of just part of it. Maybe I can find a Project Runway rerun.

The bar exam sucked. I bombed the MBE. But I was actually looking forward to the essays because essay day is also partial credit day. I don't think I aced the essays nor was I looking to ace the essays. I think I probably got sufficient partial credit to pass the bar exam, which is the only goal. But, to the consumer rights bar examiner: Thank you for cramming about 3,000 violations of 10 different laws and provisions of laws into that question. I hope you have fun reading whatever crap people could actually got onto the page in 30 minutes. You only have yourself to blame.

It's all over. I may be back in February, but I hope not.

Done

I'm going to get drunk now. Sweet. I'm like a lawyer already.

Failing the bar, one question at a time

I hate the MBE and it hates me back. Taking the test and realizing that I didn't remember the difference between the Statute of Frauds and the U.C.C. was a good feeling. At least I live across the street from the exam and can wallow in shame and self-pity in the comfort of my apartment instead of at Whataburger. At least if I fail my friends will feel really sorry for me. And then probably laugh a little, but that's okay because that would be an appropriate response.

In other shocking news, Lance Bass from 'N Sync is gay. I'm taken aback by this announcement. It's like when Rosie O'Donnell admitted she was a lesbian. My whole world has been turned upside down.

Making shit up, with confidence

Day 1 down. Today was only a half day and two more full days to go. Wasn't too bad. MPT sucked. Time pressure of handwriting leading me to the conclusion that I should have gone to Arlington to type. Criminal and Civil Procedure & Evidence not too bad. There's nothing like looking at a question and either knowing (1) this wasn't covered in BarBri so I don't know it or (2) this was covered in BarBri and fuck me if I know it, and then thinking to yourself, "If I were a judge, what would I demand in a search warrant affidavit?" and just running with that. I bet I'd make a great judge; my standards are pretty high.

If I were a bar examiner, I would take the Ronald Mann approach to bar questions. According to the wise Professor Mann, writing hard exams isn't really worth it. Most people have to pass anyways, so why make it harder on everyone with questions no one will know the answer to? When the bar examiners know that most people are taking BarBri or some other bar prep and that no one will bother to actually go read the Texas Rules of Court, then why stick a question in there that like 2 people are going to actually know because they were crazy enough to go do independent research? Whatevs.

For the first time in my life I am aiming for the barely passing score and I feel good about that. I slept like a rock, am eating normally (if not too much since my jeans are screaming at my growing ass), and didn't even want to vomit this morning. It's like I'm a whole new person. I'm not exactly pleasant right now, but it could be worse.

One of my neighbors who sees me walking around in my PJs and unshowered finally asked me today if I lost my job. He probably thought I was in the midst of some kind of depression or something, which would explain my overall appearance for the past few weeks. I'm glad he asked me because I want a good excuse for how I've been looking (homeless). Now if only the people at HEB and McDonald's would get a little presumptuous and ask me why I go out into public looking like ass.

Happy news in the form of Baby Underground. Congrats to them.

Dead Man Walking

Pray for me. But not in a totally obvious I'm-asking-for-something-way. I bet that gets on God's nerves. Maybe something like, "Dear God, my friend Raisins is taking the bar exam this week. She's karmically sound and has worked pretty hard and I hope she does well. Wink, wink."

Yes, it's hot

So, apparently the whole country is in the midst of a heatwave. Um, it's called Summer. Anyways, what I need to find out is how people didn't die back before there was air conditioning. I mean, they call out the National Guard to help people, and that's cool with me. Get them to cooling centers, help them. But what did they do when it was just hot and there were no cooling centers? Were people just better at adapting back in the day or did people just die because that's what happened when it got hot? I don't mean to trivialize here, just curious.

It's the day before the bar exam. I still have this sinking feeling that the bar examiners are really going to fuck with me and ask a straight-up bankruptcy question. To which my only response will be "automatic stay" since that's all I know about bankruptcy, and I learned that in secured credit.

So I wait. At least I have a distraction in the form of a ton of laundry that needs to get done. And it's good I'm doing it because otherwise I'd show up to the bar exam in either some plaid flannel PJs or my prom dress since I am kind of out of clothes. I think I am wearing my last t-shirt and I am down to the b-team underwear. You know, it's the stuff you don't like to wear if you don't have to because maybe the elastic is shot and they ride up too much or you accidentally bought some humongo granny panties that you didn't just want to throw away.

Good times. On a happy, nonbar-related note, Underground and Mrs. Underground are supposed to have a baby today. Good vibes to them.

Incapable of relaxation

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a little high strung. Which works for me since I am on top of shit most of the time. But it also makes it hard for me to relax. Most of the time, attempting to relax results in an increase in my stress level since I'm sitting there thinking that I should be doing something else. But I'm not studying anymore because I simply can't do it. I am praying that there's no contracts essay on the bar, but other than that I think I'll be fine. So I am trying to relax. But it sucks. I can't read the paper because the world is a mess and I really just can't take any more of that. I am trying to watch some mindless television but can't seem to even concentrate on that. If I had my druthers I'd be getting drunk right now. If anyone in Austin is down for that, let's go.

Thursday evening can't get here soon enough.

Moving to the Hinterlands

So I decide to see about opening an account at a large, national bank since I'll be moving about for the next few years and that may be easier on me than the local credit union. Either a lot of banks have really shitty web sites that won't allow me to tell if there's a branch in the holler where I'll be living or the holler where I'll be living is serviced by few national banks. A little frustrating. But luckily Chase is there. Which will be like old times since BankOne is now Chase and my first account ever was at BankOne back home in A-town (Eagles football rules!!!).

It was a little surprising to me because it's not like I'm moving to BFE. It's a college town. Then again, so is College Station, so I guess that's not saying much. Although I hear it's kind of like Austin-a little blue dot in a sea of red. I don't know how blue it will be, but it's definitely probably at least purplish.

And my apartment is apparently within walking distance of beer and coffee. Awesome. Life will be perfect if I can find passable sushi. One should probably be really picky when it comes to sushi, but I'm not. That's probable gross and I am sure I'll pay the price one day, but whatever.

Walking through the valley of the shadow of the bar exam

I'm pretty sure I am done with any kind of hardcore studying. A little reviewing here and there with some handy roadmaps and that's it. I was at Mozart's today when some guy, seeing my BarBri books, decided to talk to me. He's a waiter at Hula Hut. He took a bar exam. He's a waiter at Hula Hut. He went to state school somewhere else and failed that state's bar exam after apparently freaking out before the exam. It was inspiring.

Underground sums it up nicely. I'm going to eat fast food and pray for a Law & Order rerun.

On a side note: Ladies, when thinking that ankle boots with your short dress would look really cute, think again. If Mischa Barton (a repeat offender) looks like an idiot, you probably will too. And watch it on the leggings. I am agnostic on leggings worn right, but please exercise caution and restraint. No one wants to see your goods. Really. We don't.

Done for the day

No more. Can't do it. Maybe later tonight I'll do some civ or crim pro. But right now, I'm going to sit on my ass and do nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I am so sick of the bar I can't adequately express it in words.

On another note, has anyone else noticed the commercials for over-the-counter pain relief products where all the commercial says is, for example, "Head On. Apply directly to foreheard. Head On. Apply directly to forehead. Head On. Apply directly to forehead."? Aside from being exceedingly obnoxious, what the hell kind of marketing strategy is this? I guess I could be at CVS with a headache and remember that Head On is applied directly to the forehead. But it really puts me in a bad mood. Perhaps I am easily annoyed these days.

Just chilling

So, is it sick that I wish the bar exam was floating so I could just take it already? Whatever I don't know by now, I'm not going to know by next week. So why drag it out? Today has been all about family law. Family law is the best because this is one area that's super hard for me because I just can't remember all the factors for the three thousand tests involving the best interest of the fucking child. And is there even a difference between a child's emotional wellbeing, emotional needs, and emotional development? Because I am pretty much going with emotional wellbeing for everything and hoping it's close enough. And I'm sitting here coming up with mnemonic devices to try to help me remember this shit. The only problem with this plan is that they all look something like this: PPRASTRQM. There's a memory jogger for ya. I'm sure I'll be able to pull this stuff right out of my ass on the bar exam. Or I'll just tell grandma to screw off, she can't see the kid or have the community property.

On a happier note, I have discovered the awesomeness of my car. So it comes with a picnic table that is essentially the floor of the back. I thought, "Great, there's something I'll never use. I don't picnic, I don't tailgate, I don't like it outside." But then I realized that sitting on an ottoman, hunched over the coffee table for 7 hours a day wasn't going to cut it. You see, the 2-room Raisins apartment has no desk or convenient study nook. So we got a chair from the storage unit, brought the picnic table upstairs, and viola - a desk. Mr. Raisins likes this better because, although I have taken up a good chunk of the living room, I have also managed to mostly confine my slow spread of bar-related shit to a small area surrounding said picnic table rather than having this crap pile up on and around the couch.

And I confirmed my clerkship living quarters today. Turns out the extended stay hotel I'll be at for a week is close to Target, which is awesome since I will need to furnish my apartment with the cheapest crap I can find. Cardboard dressers, here I come. And it dawned on me that the salary pissing match the firms got themselves into means that I am losing out on a huge chunk of money for the next two years. Way more than I initially planned on when I went on this stupid boondoggle. Which makes me sad. But then I realize that I won't have to work at a firm for the next two years. Which makes me happy.

negative Ghostrider, the pattern is full

That's it. I have concluded that nothing more will fit into my brain. I am apparently incapable of remembering this shit. And I generally have a freakishly good memory for random, weird crap. But said skill has gone into hibernation. Which means I get the same questions wrong over and over and over again. I see the question and say to myself, "Ah yes, the question I always get wrong," and proceed to get it wrong again. No flashcards will help me. No outlines will help me. I just can't fucking remember.

Losing my mind slowly but surely.

New fun distraction

Two posts in one day. Clearly I am sick of crim pro and have somehow managed to get worse the more questions I answer. Leading me to the conclusion that I shouldn't answer anymore questions.

Anyways, a friend of mine* pointed me to the examiner's comments online, which are available for old exams going back a few years. Some of them are pretty good for a laugh. Two of my personal favorites: "A general partnership does not have limited partners" & "Some examinees did not follow the calendar and assumed that Tom's lease had expired at the time of foreclosure and Tom was a holdover tenant. December 2005 comes after January 2005."

Of course, the fun wears off when you realize that you made the same (and even worse mistakes) than what the examiners are bitching about. But then you read another funny one and feel a little better.

And then your girlfriend calls you to tell you she's freaking out about the NY bar but that her recently published note was cited in a cert. petition after being cited and quoted by a federal district court after getting an unsolicited shout out from a grand puba of commerical law. And then you feel shitty again. Since you can't string together two sentences into a coherent thought and add footnotes.

And then you read that Mrs. Underground is potentially due to give birth during the bar exam, and you feel less like peeing yourself.

On a totally unrelated and stupid note, I saw that Kid Rock and Pam Anderson are getting married. I guess they're on again. Which is only weird/interesting to me because I had a dream the other night that two of my fish were like mer-people, and one was Pam Anderson and one was Tommy Lee. And they were fighting. And she tried to cheer him up by shaking her huge boobs in his merman face. I wonder what that means . . . .

* big ups to Mr. Ziebeinicki.

happy, then sad

So, I finally get to a property question I can answer at least half-right. I get all excited. Property has been a bitch since I apparently know nothing about deeds, mortgages, leases, adverse possession, etc . . . and the fractions involved in oil & gas make my head hurt & my eyes cross. Anyways, back to the excitement about getting an answer half-right. Then I read the answer and, of course, it has the valuable little nugget of information that the Texas Constitution doesn't allow liens on homestead property for the acquisition of livestock. Right. I am a little sick and tired of encountering these stupid question of stupid constitutional provisions or violations of the Agriculture Code, or whatever.

When the BarBri people say, "Only study from this handout from now on," they've mostly been right. Except for property. I didn't learn anything I need to know for property in BarBri. It's like the examiner just figured that shit like easements was too easy since everyone would know that. So he put a bunch of state constitutional provisions in a hat and started drawing them out, making questions out of them. Ugh. My head hurts.

Fostering fish?

So, they have foster homes for cats and dogs. Do people foster fish? Mr. Raisins and I are the lazy owners of two fish tanks, one is 80 gallons. We love the fish and how they're still alive is a mystery to us. If anyone ever tells you it's hard to keep fish alive, they're lying. Anyways, we won't be able to take the fish with us for the big move to Cali in a year. I don't like the idea of just flushing the guys. Especially the big, ugly goldfish who is now white and ugly from a case of fin rot. He's been hanging in there for over 2 years. Hence, the question of whether people foster fish. Plus, we have a special needs fish in the small tank who lives with a guppy. The guppy spends his time up high while the handicapped fish lives in the castle, only coming out to eat. We don't know what happened to him, but his back half appears to be paralyzed, so he's much smaller than his brother because of atrophy and he's kind of S-shaped. And he apparently is only capable of swimming in a vertical position. He's my favorite. My own little Nemo.

If anyone will have a desire for an 80-gallon tank with 2 rainbow sharks, 2 albino sharks, three tetras, 1 goldfish, 2 suckerfish, 1 African bumblebee, 1 yellow lab, some cool blue-striped fish, and some big, expensive, ugly fish (like I know everything that lives in there) we may have something for you next year.

Happy place

Family law is depressing, but I found a happy place. Look at this guy and tell me he wouldn't put you in a happy place, too. Of course, it's a little less happy when there's twenty pounds of cat trying to love you as much as he can, but still happy.




Tried to do an MPT yesterday. Wow, that sucked. Not because it was hard, but because I couldn't imagine it being hard. I don't think I'll be doing any more of that. It's not like it's the California Bar.

f*** you

F*** you property bar examiner. The agriculture code? Constitutional amendments for consumer protection in home improvement loans? What is this shit? What ever happened to the Rule Against Perpetuities and covenants??

F*** you BarBri for making shitty books that fall apart. I'm losing my pages and my mind.

F*** you coffee shop for having "landscaping" that is a breeding ground for mosquitoes who ate my feet and ankles while I was studying. Now I'm scabby. Add a Kool-Aid mustache and I'd look like a 5-year-old trailer park kid (no offense to anyone who grew up in a trailer park).

F*** you maintenance guy for using the leaf blower for over an hour (in a parking lot with no trees. What the fuck are you blowing, anyways??).

Thank you, Bravo Channel, for having Project Runway reruns just when I needed it. Thank you Us Weekly for coming on time so I could have something awesome to read.

Could be worse

Today wasn't so bad. Criminal law sucks. Apparently I am very bad at anything involving the common law or any kind of necessary elements.

I did get an e-mail from a prof saying that when he took the bar (a long time ago) one of the questions asked whether the sheriff could set bail in a county with no judge. See, so it could be worse since there's probably like two freaks out of everyone taking the bar exam who might even know where to start with a question like that. Karma likes to bite me in the ass a lot, so if I were you, I'd go ahead and look that one up.

Non-bar-related question: I just ate a fat-free wiener. Is there a difference between a wiener and a hot dog? I hope not, because I don't like saying that I ate a wiener. Immature? Probably, but I also laughed the entire class period the day we covered "duty" in torts. Because that's just funny.

Really, everything is going great

Day two of intense bar studying. Leg hair? Long-ish. B.O.? Getting there. Fingernails? Three eaten down to nubs. It's going really well. For some freakish reason I seem to do well with commercial paper, a topic that I don't know anything about. The bad news is that I apparently know nothing about anything else. At all. I'm sure I'll know enough to pass when the time comes, but so far the whole exercise has been a little depressing. After three years of law school and too long in BarBri, I know nothing. From what I can tell, it appears that having taken a class previously on a bar subject guarantees that you'll know less about that subject when studying for the bar. Not a scientific study, mind you. Just personal experience thus far. I don't know a damn thing about anything from any class I've ever taken apparently.

Torts is the most depressing. I apparently know nothing about intentional torts, negligence, strict liability, or defenses. I can do trespass, though. I'm all over trespass. Unless there's a wild animal that eats the trespasser. Then I'm all fucked up. And it's not like I'm getting better with practice. Apparently, I will just never know it. But that's okay since life is not a multiple choice test and I'll never be practicing in the state of Kanbraska.

Why my mom should live forever

Because I love her. And because, if she dies, I'm betting good money that I'll be named executor of the estate because I'm the lawyer. I never thought much about estate administration until BarBri and the only thing I have learned is that it sucks. Oh sure, they make it sound all easy with this whole independent administration thing. Only problem is that, from what I can tell, there's like 500 different ways to administer an estate (or do something with the estate, I'm not really sure what counts as administration). And hell if I can figure them out. I mean, what if the bar asks me about small estate independent administration involving muniment of title of a goat-farm homestead in the context of an unqualified community administration????

I fear I may have lost my power

So, I got my pre-bar massage today. There was also a scrub involved. Don't know how I feel about the scrub. A little exfoliation never hurt anyone. But one gets a little cold as each body part is covered in some mix of honey and fruit and then left out there. The nice part was the feeling of taking a hot shower while laying down. But then the towel that's strategically positioned like a loin cloth gets soaking wet and, oddly enough, you can't really feel it anymore. So then you get really paranoid that it's not there anymore and you're just laying there buck-ass naked.

The massage was good. A little painful since my physical self is made up mostly of stress. Which means a lot of knots to work out. These knots have been with me for three years. What if, by getting them worked out, I have lost my powers? What if I fail the bar because of a massage? Like when Lenny Kravtiz cut his hair and put out even crappier music than he did with dreadlocks. Paranoid? Maybe. But given how little I know at this point, a little paranoia is likely justified. But there's no way she got all of them and I know I can get them back into top-notch knotty condition. So I'm sure it'll all work out.

Bad things about the massage? The way she was breathing made me feel like I was being massaged by Darth Vader. I think maybe the deep inhaling and exhaling was supposed to be relaxing or something. But it wasn't. And I would have killed for some Enya or even Kenny G. since the Asian music just made me think that maybe I should rent Memoirs of a Geisha.

Watch the head

So, I have this thing where I don't like people touching my head. Ever. I don't know why, but it drives me crazy. Of course, when wearing a hoodie, people feel an impulse to pick up the hood and put it on your head. Which leads me to swear at people I know and like because, when they're behind me and I can't see them, all I know is that someone is touching my head. So I freak out. So, if I have managed to swear at you while you were touching my head innocently, I apologize. I always apologize on the spot and explain that I have a thing with my head, but I still feel bad despite the apology. And please don't touch my head.

People have asked me why I wear a hoodie when I have this thing with my head. Because, it's hard to find a hoodie equivalent (e.g. sweatshirt material with soft fleece on the inside and a pouch) without a hood. Try to find one. If you do, let me know where it is. Of course, with graduation and the end of BarBri, I don't know how often I'll be wearing a hoodie from here on out, so maybe it's not a big deal.

We'll see how often I manage to post given the oncoming train wreck that is bar prep. I may still have random thoughts with a need to be free but that aren't worthy of a call to anyone. Especially since most of my friends are also studying for the bar, I doubt they'd want a random phone call from me about stupid thoughts.

Baller status: in decline

So I am now the owner of just one car. I am no longer a baller with two cars. My rep is shot, especially now that the multicolored hatchback is gone. On the upside, I am now the owner of just one car.

I actually feel a little bad because we decided to trade in the Civic when Mr. Raisins was buying his car today. I actually got as trade-in just a little under what I was prepared to unload it for private party, so I was pleased to not have to deal with the title and all that business right before the bar exam. I know, I probably got hosed. Leave it alone. But now the guy who wanted to buy it is really bummed out, despite the fact that he probably would have ended up putting at least $1500 into the thing, excluding much-needed cosmetic work. I feel like I let the poor guy down. But, really, I wasn't even sure if he was in a position to buy the car anyways. When I reminded him about the 6.25% tax on the sale and title transfer, he asked if I could make it a gift on the form. Like I'm about to lie to the state tax man for some guy I don't know. Then I told him he had to have proof of insurance to get the title transferred and he was a little perplexed by that. And I'm not sure he has a license. So it's probably better for me that I did it this way.

I'm gonna miss the Civic. Probably because I didn't really ever drive it. The thing was hit by a deer, had a fence land on the hood, and was the victim of a flying tire from an 18-wheeler blowout on 35. It was a little soldier that just kept on going.

Either way, all is well in the Raisins household and I think that together, we are ballers.

The Fashion Gods are laughing

We've been tricked, ladies. When the gaucho pant starting appearing I thought to myself, "Now here's a trend that logically should die a quick death." But no, I was wrong. Many of us have been seduced by elastic waists and soft jersey-like fabrics into thinking that we're comfortable and stylish. The bad news is that we're only comfortable. In reality, most of us look like squares. Literally, we look as though we walked into a store and asked the sales person if they had something that would make us look a little shorter and a little wider, preferably like a square. Of course, if you're pushing 6 feet, you can likely get away with this because you're tall, so anything that takes away height isn't going to kill you. For the rest of us, it's just a bad idea. This isn't to say capris are bad. A more structured short pant seems to minimize the damage.

If you're reading this and you're a fan of the gaucho pant, I mean no offense. Be comfortable. Do as you like. Go forth and gaucho all day long. I myself looked borderline homeless today, so it's not like I have a ton of room to talk here. But, if you insist on the comfort of the gaucho pant, for the love of God, please don't think you're looking even sportier by adding socks and tennis shoes. You're looking mommier. And no one wants that.

Consider this my public service announcement for the month.

Nap, please

Jamie and I went to a little barbecue today, but I tried to get some studying done before we left. Made me sleepy, so I slept. But then we went to the barbecue and I never really woke up. The Earth's yellow sun wants to kill me and consistently drains the life out of me. Which means I am home and will most likely be asleep by 10 p.m. Because I am lame. So lame. Maybe I'll do something tomorrow. I did buy some notecards, so that was a big step towards bar studying preparation.

Jamie and I tried to see Superman Returns yesterday, but we got there too late and the only seats left were on the very front row. So we decided to see Click instead, thinking that we might as well see something after spending money on tickets. It wasn't bad. I think all of my law school friends should see it for its cheesy-but-true message about focusing on the important things in life and other such bullshit. It wasn't exactly what we expected; much darker than the commercials for the movie let on (but there was some funny shit in there). Not bad overall. And crybabies beware: I was bawling for a good 20 minutes straight during the movie, although it does have the requisite happy ending. Overall, I'm glad that we saw it. Probably never would have rented it and never would have seen it, but it was enjoyable.

Sleepy time now.

Got a new car and made out with Topher Grace

What a good weekend so far. Jamie and I had a nice dinner and then hung out with the peeps for Kim's first night back in A-town. And I totally made out with Topher Grace at the Gingerman.* I was a little disappointed because Ann had no idea who he was. She said she only knows people who show up in Us Weekly. Clearly, she should be reading a little closer.

I also got my new car. It had four miles on it when I picked it up. Four. Total. My first new-new car. I am a happy camper. I decided on a CR-V, my fourth Honda. I wasn't comfortable leaving the Honda family. It's super cute and I like feeling higher up when I drive. Although parking it is still a little weird and something I'll have to get used to. I think I even found someone to buy the Civic from me. Sweet.

I plan to do a little studying, but this is the weekend for getting the need for fun out of my system before the bar, so not too much studying.

* "Made out" is this context clearly means sat about 10 feet away from him and tried to play it cool like I see celebrities every day and wasn't at all impressed. But I was, because that's who I am. So sad.