Have You Seen My Baseball . . .

Prof. LARC still think me not write not no good. The most recent LARC grade infers I’m legally retarded and that’s just disappointing. It’s sad when I’m in the bottom quarter of the class and the first comment reads:

· Great improvement in writing style. Really, and thanks.

I’d much rather see, “I expected more out of you,” or “It’s sad to see a good writer be so fucking terrible.” This way I’d know Prof. LARC thought I had potential. Now she just thinks I’m doing well for a cat walking across the keyboard.

I’ve already decided if I fail out of law school I’m going back to New York or L.A. and joining the circus.

Let's Try This Again

I deleted last night’s post for fear of repercussions; sadly in the process I deleted my accolades for the PC students. I was really impressed by everyone I saw and you’ve all given me hope for the future.

I played James Maurice Gallimore; a less than key witness for the contestant in a thrilling will dispute. My character was a smooth talking southern gentleman with pension for putting the jurors at ease and striking fear in the hearts of opposing counsel. The cowards refused to cross me and I left the witness-stand triumphantly unscathed.

In the future, if anyone needs a witness and it fits my schedule, I’ll totally be your bitch.


Last night, after I was done studying I went over to Scruff’s. Totally sober, just figured I’d check it out. Anyway, I start talking to this undergrad about Pepperdine Law blah . . . blah . . . blah and an upper quarter comes over and says, “Yea this guy is like one of the top bloggers at the law school.”

I didn’t wait for her response, I just moved on.

I’m proud of my blog don’t get me wrong; it’s just not something that should ever be included in a pick up line. It’s right up there with, “I have two kids”, “Do you mind if I have a mild case of herpes?” or “I’m really into anime.”

I moved on to the next girl, told her I was a world famous soccer player and went from there.

My First Mock Trial

You may be asking how I already have a mock trial. I’m only a little over 7 weeks into law school but I’m defending Mean Joe Greene. Tomorrow is the culmination of two weeks of preparation. 12 teams were assigned one of four roles and we are having 3 separate trials. I’m still not totally sure how it’s going to work but Prof. Torts is the boss and she says it will work. I’m obligated to believe her.

My role is a 4 minute closing statement in which I will say:
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the evidence proves Mr. Greene reflexively bitch slapped one Mark Cockreil who is poorly feigning injury akin to a Portuguese soccer player. Please don’t let him collect Mr. Greene’s bling-bling; he don’t deserve it.”

Two weeks of effort, and I can’t say I’ve learned a damn thing. An anonymous professor said that this escapade will come back to haunt us. I hope anonymous professor was kidding.

When Good Intentions Go Bad

I’d heard rumors that undergrads get kicked out of the law library, but I assumed these rumors referred to males and ugly, boisterous girls; I assumed wrong. I recently witnessed the extrication of two gorgeous, quiet females looking to pass a history exam and maybe receive an invite to law prom in the process. I was distraught.

We should encourage rather than condemn this type of behavior. If Baylor Law is going to supply a lovely view of the Brazos, it might as well furnish alternative avenues of distraction. I’d go so far as supplying free Evian and a calorie-free Salad Bar to entice potential eye candy.

Limit their use to public viewing areas and if they start talking on their cell phones or something equally obnoxious, kindly remove them to the hall. It’s fool proof.

The Deans’ portraits are nice, but let’s step it up. Leave recruitment flyers at the end of said salad bar and the World will be a better place. Admissions will receive more applications and a few students will get dates.

And while I’m proposing school policy, may I recommend a vending machine that does ice cream?

Baylor Law: It's Better Than You Think

I received a comment that read:

“Sorry to crash your blog... I noticed that a thread that I posted on BaylorFans about whether I should attend Baylor in the Fall made its way onto the comments of Sothebearsays... so I thought, what the hell, I might as well see what the other half of the Baylor blogosphere thinks.”

In response:

I have yet to experience the “boot camp”, and am useless when it comes to worldly advice. I haven’t taken a final and my schedule is ridiculously easy. People say life will get more difficult but they have lied to me before.

When you start, you and I will share a class or two. I’ll be your friend and I’ll show you the hangout spots in Waco. We are nice people, I promise.

Academically, I don’t think you will find more competent professors. I’ve sat in on law classes around the country and Baylor classes are by far the most entertaining. Not easy, but entertaining. Just show up on time, be prepared, and turn off your cell phone.

The school quote is: “Baylor Law: Where Fun Goes to Die” but it’s more of a hyperbole than anything. It’s human nature to brag about how hard things are. It’s fun to tell war stories of getting belittled in class, spending 20 hours a day preparing, walking uphill both ways to class etc. but it’s really not that bad. If you can stay off Facebook, you will have plenty of time to live your life. If you already use Facebook, be my friend.

During orientation Prof. CivPro said, “You should be working from 7 AM – 7 PM on law school stuff 6 days a week.” I don’t currently have enough work to follow that schedule but it seems like a fair estimate of what it should be. Finals and PC will be more.

If you come to Baylor, your first drink at either Starbucks or Crickets is on me. Neither SMU or UH can promise that. I’ve only been in law school for 7 weeks. That's all I got.

P.S.

Bring a puppy and buy a few Baylor law school shirts and meeting girls won’t be a problem.

The Consequences of Revelry

Last night was exceptionally fun, this morning was not. I’m never drinking again.

Class didn’t start till 1:00 but for some reason I woke up at 8:00. I spent the next several hours cursing the day of my birth and looking for a comfortable place to die. I tried the bathtub, couch, kitchen floor, bathroom floor but nothing came remotely close to working.

At about 11 or so there was a knock on my door. I wrapped a towel around my naked, lifeless body only to see an exceptionally chipper Thomas standing there with a bottle of laundry detergent.

Thomas: Hey. . .what’s going on?
Me: What the hell are you doing? Why are you here?
Thomas: Just doing some laundry over there and figured I’d check on you.
Me: I think I’m dying.
Thomas: Have you tried sleeping in the closet. I used to do that in undergrad and it works. It’s totally dark and generally quite relaxing.
Me: I’m willing to try anything.

Thomas left and I went to sleep in the closet.

20 minutes later there was another knock on the door which was apparently slightly ajar. I assumed it was Thomas back for more:

Voice: Hello?
Me: (shouting) I’m in the closet
Voice: (calmly) Are you ok?
Me: (shouting) No I’m not fucking ok. If I was ok, why the fuck would I be lying in a closet?
Voice: (calmly) Do you need help?
Me: (shouting) Yes I need help . . . I’m dying.
Voice: (less calmly) Hold on.

My closet door swung open and there I was, lying in my closet wrapped in a towel, looking up at my friendly FedEx deliveryman.

After a several rather awkward apologies, I walked to the front door, signed for my package and sent him on his way.

My first final is only two weeks and three days away. It’s time to hang up the drinking boots and put on the thinking cap.

Young Once, Immature for a Lifetime.

Tonight is like Christmas but rather than Jesus’ b-day we celebrate mine. Unlike The J.C., I have done nothing selfless to substantially better the world, but I share an affinity for wine, fishing and women-of-the-night . . . hence the celebration.

You are cordially invited to participate in the gala affair to be held this evening at Scruffy’s from 10 – 2. Karaoke will be sung and drinks will be served. Gifts and lap dances are welcome but not required. The name of the establishment is “Scruffy’s”; dress accordingly.

Thomas’ b-day officially ended yesterday and mine doesn’t officially start till midnight however we split the difference and tonight’s winding is the commemoration of 44 combined years of lives well lived.

See you there.

Poppycock, Lies and Mendacity

Let’s reference back to my post entitled Game Day Recap from May 26, 2006. I quoted SoTheBearSays as saying, “Don’t worry guys, everyone makes the playoffs.”

That was Bullshit.

The 1Q softball team has been officially barred from competing in the World Series of Law League, ending our season 0 - 3.

Peter Gammons of ESPN blamed the ‘Werebears’” poor showing on an initial lack of pitching accompanied by pitiable coaching. He went on to psychoanalyze the inferiority complex created by the team name explaining, “It permeated their essence and deprived them of a fighting chance.”

I couldn’t agree more Peter Gammons. . . I couldn’t agree more.

Management will have to make a few off season trades if the team is going to be ready for fall season flag football. Only time will tell.

Prof. CivPro Hires a Temp.

He’s like Prof. CivPro’s nicer, shorter, twin brother with the face of a young Harlan Williams. Our pseudo-celebrity substitute shed some light on pleaded complaints but more importantly . . . he stayed within his hour; possibly the first Baylor professor since the Carter administration to accomplish such a feat.

I don’t know if it’s my clothes, seat, or pathetic look of incontinence but professors love to call on me when I sit in room 236. No matter how many times I get called on, I’m always taken aback. I’m not a big hand raiser, and I have yet to say an intelligent thing upon my feet, but for some reason professors keep coming back and I keep eating obscene quantities of shit.

I’m the Socratic Method’s version of a Fat kid and my answers are the equivalent of a belly flop; amusing for everyone else, painful for the fat kid.

I did say the words “contract” and “certiorari”; Prof. Sub-CivPro seemed enamored.

Fortunately, after only a few short minutes he tied a tourniquet around my hemorrhaging wounds and the class proceeded painlessly thereafter.


Today June 20, 2006 is a big day for birthdays:

Lionel Richie is 66
Nicole Kidman is 39
John Goodman is 54

And most importantly:

Bradley Thomas is 22

Happy Fathers' Day

**Personal Note**
It’s no longer officially Father’s Day but it’s better late than never. I love my dad; He is a great man that I’m proud to claim as my own. One day, I’ll put him in a really nice convalescence home, but until that day comes, I’ll use words to show my appreciation.

You are an old, tall, funny man that can keep me updated on my local weather from 1500 miles away. You always gave me your pole when you had the opportunity to catch a fish, and I still remember that time you let me beat you in golf when I was 6. Unlike mother you rarely threatened to kill me, and that really means a lot.

I love you, and sorry about that whole no gift giving thing. I was going to get you a Patek, Ferrari, Leer, or racehorse, but Mother said you’d prefer the words “I Love You.” You saved me a pretty penny and that’s why you’re the best.

Your Son,

Jonathan

_________________________________________________________________

I’ve been meaning to link to this blog for awhile and I hope the author doesn’t mind. Stepbaker is the brainchild of an upper quarter and it’s usually funny. His post today isn’t funny, but rather one of the more moving things I’ve ever read. I hope I don’t take away from it with the frivolity of my post, but I read him and you should too.

Some Things Shouldn't be Fried

For those of you out of the know, George’s is home to Waco’s #1 Chicken Fried Steak, a Texas delicacy I managed to avoid till yesterday. It’s the lowest quality steak you can find ground up and turned into a patty of sorts. The patty is then breaded and fried in a vat of grease. Before eating, you are supposed to dowse your steak in a ‘white gravy’ comprised of lard, flour and a hint of pepper.

I wasn’t ready for it.

After five bites I threw in the towel, asking the waitress if she could bring me bottled water. She looked as if I’d pimp-slapped her grandmother. She went so far as to say, “I don’t think we have that here.”

Sally reluctantly found a water and several hours later, my arteries unclogged.

Skip the Chicken Fried Steak and go with the ‘Crazy Wings’. Chicken, wrapped in bacon, stuffed with cheese, jalapenos, and some other stuff. Those received two thumbs up.

P.S.

I know I’m a little tardy, but it’s still worth noting, Thursdays aren’t the same without softball. Watching the ‘Werebears’ gambol around the field never ceases to amaze. Many of my naïve cohorts misconstrued our ‘bye’ as a win but sadly such is not the case.

We are well rested and expecting big things next game. 2Q’s be scared.

Prof. LARC: 2 Swanburg: 0

I knew it was going to be a rough day when 30 minutes into a CrimLaw marathon I realized I had forgotten to put on underwear and had no recollection of actually driving to school.

I signed up to donate blood at 3:30, figuring I’d allow ample time to lower my B.A.C. back to legal limits before poisoning the eventual recipient . . . but I shirked.
I truly had every intention of donating and I’m not normally one to back out of obligations but my name was precariously omitted from Prof. LARC’s Immunity List.

Prof. LARC: Mr. Swanburg, tell me about Graham
Me: I don’t mean to be rude but I thought I was immune.
Prof. LARC: You’re not on my list.
Me: I signed up to give two pints of blood just so you wouldn’t talk to me today.
Prof LARC: That’s nice, tell me about Graham.
Me: But I’m hung over, can we do this another time?
Prof: Novel idea but no.
Me: Based on my previous claims I respectfully diseent from answering.
Prof LARC: And I respectfully don't care.
Me: Now I’m totally not going to donate my blood.
Prof LARC: And I thought you were just selfless.
Me: Fine, let’s do this. Which case are we talking about?
Prof LARC: Graham
Me: Is this the case where he says, “Bitch, you don’t know me.”
Prof. LARC: Not a good start Mr. Swanburg.

I didn’t actually say the “Bitch you don’t know me” part but I wanted to. It was in one of the cases and I probably could have gotten away with it, but I didn’t, so we will never know.

Forcing an individual to stand and tease out the intricacies of criminally negligent homicide is cool but not on Immunity Day and not when the individual is me. I was experiencing the shakes and sweats of “tea and coffee” withdrawal and it was one of the more miserable events of my life. If the school is going to send me to an establishment where they serve beer in mason jars they can’t reasonably expect me to stand up the next day.

Prof. LARC has summoned me to her office at 3 pm tomorrow seeking third party evidence of my alleged immunity. I’ll hope for the best, anticipating the worst.

The Day LARC Punked Us

At 6:54 this morning Prof. LARC decided to send out an e-mail reading:

“Bring your next memo assignment. Be prepared to recite AND discuss each case.”

Panic and chaos ensued. The memo isn’t due till the 20th and frankly most people hadn’t read the cases; if they had, they hadn’t read them well. Many like me hadn’t woken up till about 9:30 and there simply wasn’t enough time to read and understand the five cases in the hour we had between CrimLaw and LARC. People tried, but for the most part failed miserably.

It was assumed Prof. LARC hated us. For example, take the conversation I had with a fellow 1Q before class:

Me: What are you doing?
1Q: Calisthenics
Me: Um. . .and why is that?
1Q: So I can be ready to grab my ankles when she calls on me.

She played us for fools. The panic was for not. She went about class with a smile on her face, like the e-mail never happened and the cases failed to exist.

Good one Professor LARC . . . a sadistic abuse of authority, but a good joke nonetheless.

Public Health Notice

You know the old adage, an apple a day keeps the doctor away? Oregon researchers have discovered that consuming 17 beers & 4 large pizzas daily will help prevent prostate cancer. Forget about apples and the caveat regarding potentially harmful side effects and you are good to go.

They don’t mention anything about preferable brands but I’m guessing Keystone and Papa Johns will suffice.

If you are one of "those people" looking for the full story.

UPDATE: THIS JUST IN!!

This is truly unbelievable . . . Some Kaiser Permanente researchers have made an absolutly incredible discovery.

“In a study of more than 125,000 people, one cup of coffee per day cut the risk of alcoholic cirrhosis by 20 percent. Four cups per day reduced the risk by 80 percent. The coffee effect held true for women and men of various ethnic backgrounds.”

I'm speechless. These scientists may really be on to something.

Again, if you are one of "those people" looking for the full story

**Thanks goes out to a fellow 1Q for keeping me abreast of the latest and greatest.

Maybe We Don't Like Being Belittled

I had a really funny story from yesterday but it is totally inappropriate for public display. Therefore, I’ll write about something less traumatizing and more consequential:

My First Immunity Day

How much would you pay to not get called on for one class?
95% of the kids in law school were the ones in undergrad that couldn’t wait to answer a question; many of them probably grunted and waved in their quest to be heard. Some would probably pay extra to listen to their own voice. Times have changed.

For one day only, professors promise not to call on students who donate a specified amount to charity. Some of the less scary classes run in the neighborhood of $5, Prof. CivPro is $10 and apparently PC is $30. Donating blood also works.

How miserable must life become when a law student is willing to pay $30 not to be called on for one Thursday class. There is only a slight chance of being summoned and these people are willing to pay $30 to eliminate that possibility. PC remains an elusive creature that I know nothing about; I’m scared nonetheless.

Prof. CivPro will once again be out of town on Wednesday and Thursday, thus voiding any benefit from buying immunity.

He had better things to do on both Monday & Tuesday of next week as well, so he assigned us a substitute teacher. Apparently our fill-in is a huge favorite among the current 2Q’s that had him for LARC I. Judging by Prof. CivPro’s enthusiasm we are about to get violated.

To celebrate the Immunity Day, SGA is sponsoring a Riverboat party on Wednesday night. If you want to hang out with the 1Q’s and attempt to hijack our lady-folk, we are taking the 7:30 departure, leaving ample time for karaoke @ Scruffies.

Keeping it Gangster

Picture a late night rap video from B.E.T. “Uncut” minus the nude promiscuous females. Basically I’m talking about a bunch of hoodlums standing around a car, drinking beer and malt liquor, listening intently as a car’s system fills the air with bass filled insights into keeping it real.

Now replace hoodlums with law students, and that’s how it went down.

Because Crickets couldn’t quench the masses’ need for ‘crunk’ I invited a motley group of people back to my place. Basically, the upper quarters decided that they preferred the parking lot to my apartment and consequently went wilding out from the hours of 2:30 – 5.

Surprisingly, the cops never came; they should have but they didn’t.

Imagine the conversation:

Officer: What are you kids doing?
Me: Umm. . .we range in age from 21 – 30 so I’d hardly describe us as kids.
Officer: You are how old? What the hell are all of you still doing at Baylor?
Me: We go to law school?
Officer: You must be shitting me?
Me: I shit you not sir.
Officer: I’m sure one of you has an apartment, why are you out here?
Me: Just getting crunked sir . . . just getting crunked.
Officer: You’re going to jail Mr. Swanburg.

Only one person came outside to complain and it turned out to be a fellow law student. His requests for quiet went unfurnished by the merrymakers and he begrudgingly returned to his apartment.

I’ve transitioned from bottle service in L.A. to parking lot pimping in Waco. The latter is seemingly more entertaining.

I Blame the Paint Chips

Picking up LARC memo grades on a Friday is like catching the flu on your birthday. I’ll be the first to acknowledge my memo was incoherent, but it’s upsetting to think Prof. LARC thinks me not write pretty.

I know the first memo grade doesn’t count for much but I’m disappointed nonetheless. Prof. LARC was quickly becoming my favorite and now she thinks I’m teetering on the brink of illiteracy. My dreams of winning her heart and respect through impeccable word choice and detailed legal analysis have temporarily failed.

And for the recap of yesterday’s game:

You know how the United States used those twin 500 pound bombs to blow up 5 guys in an Iraqi tool shed? The game went kind of like that. One ‘Werebear’ was wearing the glove on the incorrect hand, while another had no shoes. Basically, every time the ball was hit into the outfield it seemed like the entire team eventually touched the ball.

For example, there was one ball hit to right. The outfielder somehow managed to throw the ball backwards and another picked it up. The second outfielder threw it to another outfielder who then threw it to first, who then threw the ball to second; the runner was already rounding third so second threw it to the catcher. It went over the catchers head, and she tries to throw it back to the pitcher. It goes over the pitchers head into the outfield, and the whole process continues although the batter has already made it back to the dugout.

I fell down twice and received an abrasion on my knee.


If you need me, I’ll be watching World Cup reruns on TeleMundo.

Game Day III

On the STD scale we are back up to the Clap. Sad but true, our performance was sub-par even for spastic, retarded, children playing softball at their 4th grade field day. SoTheBearSays won by about 15 or so but we made like five runs in the last inning and if that doesn’t count for something I don’t know what does. The “Defending Champs/ Oral Advocates” have a formidable heckling squad comprised of four cute girls capable of talking inordinate amounts of shit. My nickname was “Reach-Around.”

Full recap tomorrow but for now I’m off to watch the game and continue what I’ve started.

American Idol Comes to Scruffies

The binder at Scruff’s contained a great deal of country music, but was seriously lacking in both pop and hip hop. They had neither of my two songs and I was consequently perturbed. I usually start the night with a lot of shots and then move into a rousing rendition of “She Fucking Hates Me” by Puddle of Mud. When the ladies start to scream and throw garments designed to cover their nether regions, I move into Sir Mix-A-Lot’s, “Baby Got Back.”

There was no booty dancing or garment throwing during the 1Q less-than-stellar performance of “Summer Nights” BUT there was an octogenarian that inappropriately decided to join us on stage. He hogged the microphone and ruined everything I had planned. The playbook had me doing the Harlem Shake while the girls were singing and a slightly modified Macarena during the rest. The grand finale was supposed to be elaborate. I was to barrel roll off the stage and land in a crouching position. From the crouching position, I was instructed to throw my arms and head to the sky all while keeping the stoic look of determination emblazoned upon my face. The old guy fucked everything up and none of it went down. He destroyed the moment and for that I can’t forgive.

A potentially epic battle of the blogs is upon us. If I’m properly reading the schedule, FromMalibutoWaco faces off against SotheBearSays in law league softball tonight at 7.

In an effort to improve team performance and morale, management has suggested switching from beer to malt liquor.

Update to follow.

Probably not a Coincidence

Prof CrimLaw: “Mr. Swanburg, what were the defendants’ mental states at the time?”

I had the chance to use the phrase “drunk and horny” while standing in class but something told me not to. Maybe it’s part of the law school maturation process or maybe I feared looking ig-nant but either way the moment has passed.

Three guys were at a bar trying to get laid, but things weren’t going their way. The oldest guy says, “Why don’t we go back to my place and you can all have sex with my wife. She might try and stop you but that’s just her thing. When she struggles and tells you to stop that means she is turned on.”
Basically, the guys are stoked, so they go back to the old guys place and jump on his wife. She screams and tells them to stop, so they think they are doing good.

There is some legal analysis in there but that is not the point. The point is, Prof. CrimLaw called on me to discuss statutory rape and that never ceases to amuse. I discussed two guys doing a 15 year old girl, and it was totally copasetic.

I left today’s class comforted by the knowledge statutory rape is rarely prosecuted.

Cause It's Hard Out There For a Pimp

I’ll use this post not necessarily to brag about our easy schedule, but rather to emphasize why starting in the summer is a highly recommended path for any future Baylor prospects.

Prof. CivPro canceled class both yesterday and today, leaving the 1Q’s an opportunity to frolic in the fields, read books, watch movies, find call-girls, etc. Pretty sweet, but it gets better. Not one to be outdone, Prof. Torts is canceling class to the tune of . . . wait for it . . . two whole, wonderful, weeks.

Granted we lengthened all the class periods to accommodate for the hiatus but that’s beside the point. ½ of the 1Q’s will not start the school day before 1 PM while M – Z students will still have the occasional 9:15 CrimLaw. Like all things law school, you must take the good with the less good and I for one refuse to complain.

Only thing on Thursday’s docket is LARC and CivPro from 1 – 3:15PM. Consequently, I will be performing Sir-Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back” for Wednesday night karaoke.


Don't hate the player hate the game.

UPDATE:
I heard a rumor that V-Ice himself is coming to Waco. I’ve done some research and I can attest to statement.

Vanilla Ice is coming to Waco on June 14th and performing at the Graham Central Station. I’d normally be excited about the living, breathing, human cliché but for some reason I’ll probably skip this one. If someone does attend, I expect a full report.

Don Juan Never Went to Law School

I used to be funny and have a modicum of game but somehow law school is simultaneously and rapidly destroying both. For example, last night at Crickets I asked a girl how much it would cost to trespass upon her chattel. She missed the punch-line and I kept walking.

Another hallmark moment occurred when I saw a girl at the bar that looked strangely familiar. I approached awkwardly from behind, and said,

“I’m Jon?” (I don’t know why the words came out of my mouth like a question but they did.) She looked confused so I kept going like it was part of the plan.

Me: “You look really familiar but I don’t remember from where. Do you go to law school?”
Girl: “Umm, no but my name is Jessica, if that helps.”
Me: “OHH THAT’S IT! You have the twin sister Janelle and you waited on us last week at Hooters.”

Apparently word choice and tact escape me, but I wasn’t done. The portion of my brain that controls walking, and the portion that controls speaking proceeded into an intracranial battle. I inadvertently started to wobble and stutter, while she looked on in awe. The walking part evidently prevailed and I marched away not having said another word.

Looking back it turned out to be a smart play. My next line was probably going to be, “You look a lot shorter tonight, are you a legal midget?” or maybe I’d make an affirmative statement like, “You have a really nice chest for a midget.”

Thomas almost got into a bar fight. That would have been fun. As my version of the story goes, he made a pass at a girl who was standing next to her boyfriend. The boyfriend took umbrage and threatened to beat Thomas’ ass. Thomas ripped off his own shirt, cracked a beer bottle on the table and loudly exclaimed, “I’m going to cut you punk.” The boyfriend retreated and Thomas got the girl.

Maybe not entirely true, but pick and choose the facts you want to believe.

Because Zagat Wouldn't Take the Time. . .

On a scale of 1 – 10 I give Bogart’s a 6.

The entire bar is the size of a large bathroom, and seems like the place you’d go to develop a drinking problem. To the bar’s credit they have $1 double ups on Thursdays, and only require a $4 tab to close out a credit card. For what was supposed to be a school wide event there were surprisingly few reviewers.

I bounced over to Crickets where I met a dental hygienist who was a client of mine at the Glove Club. We had an engaging discussion regarding latex allergies, and I’m pretty confident I wooed her with my insights into the China latex shortage as a result of Malaysian weather patterns but she went home with her husband, so maybe not.

People say a picture is worth a 1000 words. This is Thomas warming up for the big game:

Post-Game Commentary

If I had to compare today’s game to a STD I’d pick syphilis. Not nearly as bad as herpes and totally curable with a shot of penicillin; it’s really not that bad. We had moments of brilliance, and led for most of the game. The ‘Werebears’ were up 10 – 7 going into the last inning, the other team made four runs and called it quits. I made an error to end the game but that is neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is we showed potential and when you suck as bad as the 1Q’s that’s fantastic.

Mavs game then Bogarts Bar Review

Game Day II ("Return of the Werebears")

Apparently, several of my 1Q classmates are just as naïve and foolish as yours truly. Seems we are sticking with the name ‘Werebears’ but adding the slogan:

“Our drinking team has a softball problem.”

The original slogan was, “Alcoholics go to meetings, we are just lawyers in training”, but those who actually go to meetings seemed offended.

After yesterdays session with the Texas Law Examiner I’m weary of the slogans implications but it’s not like our slogan is true or anything. If you are reading my blog as part of the F.B.I. background check, I swear I thought she was 18. She was hot, so please don’t hold it against me. And that whole human trafficking thing, that was just a huge misunderstanding.

Softball at 7, Bar Review at 9:30.