Cursed With Ambition

Gunner Bingo

The Mermaids discussion is far from over, but while I concoct my next post about my most brilliant idea, here's this:

In law school there is a character called a "gunner."  You know them out in the world too: know-it-alls who fall all over themselves to let the world know how bright they are.  Sometimes they are excited and overly enthusiastic.  Sometimes they are smug, which is worse.  Anyway, in a law school classroom, these are the guys who are constantly seeking favor with the professor by raising their hands constantly and chiming in on every discussion.  It's obvious that they are trying to prove something.  They are annoying as hell and much hated by the proletariat law school students.  The reason is that everybody in the room knows just as much if not more than the gunner and it's just that nobody else is trying to draw attention to themselves because of it.  (As a side note, it is a well known fact that gunners typically do not do as well as others on law school exams.  Everybody loves that.)

So, there's a game that most 1L's play called Gunner Bingo.  There are several variations of the game but basically a group of players picks four or five names.  When one of the people on the list raises their hand or speaks in class you put a mark next to their name.  When all four (or five) of the gunners on your list have a mark next to their name you get a bingo.

I have actually been in a class when somebody yelled out "BINGO!" after one of the gunners started speaking.  We all knew what was going on and so did the professor.  The professor didn't do anything because they generally hate gunners too.

Here's a great prize for Gunner Bingo.

Mermaids

I've been on a summer-long rant about an idea that originated with allBilly that I've since fleshed out and greatly improved.  Billy's been to Port O'Connor with me and I think he "gets" the place.  He had an idea that I originally rejected because I thought it would taint the place.  He thought the one thing that POC needed was a strip club.

Now, I've got beaucoup wholesome childhood memories from the place, so the idea of a strip club in POC is distasteful to me.  However, I thought about it some and I think I've struck gold.  I mean, the place is basically custom made for outdoorsmen and beer drinkers - just the kinds of dudes who go to titty bars.  So I think the place might actually print its own money if marketed properly.

So here it is, my concept:  the name of the place would be Mermaids.  The building and interior would be fashioned after any typical higher class urban strip club.  The genius of this idea is not in the design of the building; there isn't a respectable strip club within at least 150 miles of POC (Maximus in Victoria is not respectable despite what Trey Sparkman might say) so anything approaching a typical urban strip club (think Sugar's in Austin or The Gentlemen's Club in Houston) would exceed expectations.  Of course, there's an undersea theme inside and out. 

One major obstacle is that the strippers would have to be imported from larger cities.  There's a couple of reasons for this:  one, I'm related to half the full-time population of POC and so most of the stripper-age girls are off limits.  Second, despite all of its virtues, POC is not known for producing hotties.  So, there wouldn't be many, if any, homegrown talent.  That's ok.  The genius of Mermaids isn't even in the quality of the strippers.  They would be typical of any found at any club in any large city in America.

The genius of Mermaids would be that when you walk in to this undersea themed club that is nicer than what you would expect and where the strippers look just as good as those you see at your regular club in Houston, you see a HUGE aquarium in the middle of the room and inside are topless bitches in mermaid costumes!!!  And not cheesy looking mermaid costumes like Daryl Hannah had in Splash either.  I'm talking about engineered costumes here that look real.

Now this isn't the first time I've described my million-dollar idea so I've already had to deal with the dreamkillers and their criticisms, like, "How are the mermaids going to breathe in the aquarium?"  To which I say, "Valid question.  Two ways to deal with it.  Scuba gear, or, they simply swim to the surface every 30-40 seconds to get air."  Scuba gear is out - it detracts from the theme and is not authentic.  I don't see a problem at all with the girls swimming to the surface though.

I can't tell you how many times I have visualized Mermaids this summer.  The more I think about it, the more certain I am that this is one of those brilliant ideas that only comes around two or three times in a lifetime.  So, as I plot the details, if anyone is interested in a can't-miss investment opportunity...

Prognosis Improving

Well, the pain in my inner ear and throat are subsiding to a near-tolerable degree.  Lunch today could even be described as only mild torture.  I'm a long way from being normal but I think either time, my own immune system or the meds are starting to kick some bacteria ass.  I know the 'cillin is in my bloodstream because my pee smells like the pills (they stink).

I don't mean to hate on doctors - I mean hell, my dear ol' grandfather, my Uncle Bob and one of my best friends are MD's and my brother is soon to be and I have a lot of faith in their abilities.  Sure, there's plenty to say about how the typical person experiences a demeaning and impersonal office visit.  I mean, I was a paying white customer with insurance and I felt like I was getting the brush-off like some kind of welfare street urchin.  If some doctors need to be technicians to be effective, fine.  Bed-side manner be damned.  I don't need somebody to coddle to me as much as I need somebody who can tell me what the fuck is wrong with me and what we're going to do to fix it.  That being said, I take some responsibility myself.  I don't have a go-to doctor that I've used for years.  I think the situation would be totally different if I had an established GP that I'd used for years and trusted and maybe a specialist or two on the rolls who knew me.  I suppose I will have soon enough, when tho ol' bod starts breaking down.  I think I'll try to put that off as long as possible.

I Think I Have an Earwig

No shit ya'll, this might be the worst pain I have ever experienced. It feels like a colony of maggots is slowly eating away at the rotting hammer, anvil and stirrup of my inner ear. They've already laid eggs in my cochlea, which I think have begun to hatch as well. I have developed a Pavlovian aversion to swallowing because of the searing pain it causes. So now, instead of swallowing saliva or water to wet my throat, I spit into a cup. So far I think I have accumulated about 1 3/4 cups of saliva. (Funny, it's kind of yellow, not clear like I thought.) Ok, so that's pretty fucking gross. (Did I mention it smells?) It's very hard to eat or drink anything. Since noon on Tuesday I have had a bowl of soup, about eight popsicles, one 12 oz. soda and one bottle of water. And I didn't swallow anything for about thirty hours during that stretch.

I have to get psyched up to swallow two advil and my one penicillin pill every four hours. When I got the pills at the pharmacy the pharmacist gave me two bottles. One bottle only had four pills in it. She explained that they had run out of the pill made by one company so they substituted some made by a different company but they were the exact same medication and dosage. I think the bitch slipped me a fucking placebo. Their hospital just became a teaching hospital after all. Anyway, the meds have improved my condition a little. But not enough for my taste. I need to back to school and work goddammit! I can't do this much longer.

Hot Neighbor Update

Ever since my interlude with the hot neighbor I have felt a little weird when I see her.  I thought it was all in my head until a couple of weeks ago when I was sitting outside at about 11pm and she rolls up with some guy in his car.  She was sitting on the passenger side and I could see them talking in the car - I was pretty sure they had seen me.  I was trying my best to look like I was minding my own business, and I was, but nevertheless it was a weird situation.  Pretty soon, the car backed up and pulled out of the driveway.  I wondered what the fuck?  Where was the hot neighbor?  Had they decided to extend their date on the fly?

Well, just then I heard a car door slam coming around the front of the building.  Then I heard the front door of our building open (the side the hot neighbor lives on).  She went around to the front to avoid me!!

Fuck me.  Made me feel like Son of Fucking Sam or something.

Huge White Patches...

...on my tonsils, throat and eustacian tubes.

Only on the left though(?)  I cannot swallow without enormous pain and no amount of over-the-counter pain medication does squat.  Taken to its logical conclusion, I will either dehydrate or starve because I cannot swallow.  At this point, death would almost be better.  It. hurts. that. much.

I've been grumpy because I've been so uncomfortable and I snapped at my Guppy.  I am sorry Guppy!  Forgive me?  Want some Phish Food?

Good news!  I have an appointment with a doctor at 4pm today.  I broke down - I can't handle this anymore.  I know what I need:  a one-week prescription for Amoxycillin.  Instead of going to fucking Walgreens and picking some up and getting relief I've got to go through the insurance imbroglio with my fucking carrier that must be based in Sudan or Kamchatka.  But anyway, I haven't been to the doctor in a coon's age so maybe there will be a story.

Ode to My 3L Mates

Yesterday I went to a pool party/barbecue hosted by one of my classmates. The group was made up of 20 to 30 of my sectionmates from first year. We've been through the ringer together and that breeds a strong sense of brotherhood. I was looking around the party at all of the folks and thinking how much I liked all of these people. We've all come from different backgrounds and locations and now we have this bond of common experience. Not only that, we're all smart capable people and it's refreshing to be around them. I remember thinking when I was living and working in Austin, "Where are all of the smart capable people?" My small circle of friends qualified, but beyond that my opinion of the masses was pretty bleak. Now I know where at least some of them are at. The fact that I've found them relaxes me and restores my faith in people.

The 3L year is bittersweet - we're nearing the end of a difficult journey. But we'll be leaving each other and leaving the nest of the law school itself where we're insulated from some of the harsh realities of the practice of law. Most of us will be starting jobs at the end of next summer. I'm sure I'll never see many of these people ever again and it makes me sad - kinda like graduating high school. We've got one year left and I intend to make the most of it. If the party yesterday is any indication, it's going to be a helluva year.

Tragedy = Seniority Trumping Talent

For the moment at least, I'm going to have to share in some of allBilly's sour grapes about the STCL Board of Advocates.  I just put in an appearance at the "Ol' Mock Trial Coach's" office to let him know that I was "ready willin' and able" to get to work on the varsity team.  What I saw and heard brought me back down somewhat from the high of last week's victory.

One thing people should realize, that mitigates the situation somewhat, is that STCL was ranked No. 1 in advocacy by USNWR in the last poll.  That's a big deal for a fourth-tier law school and the reputation and legacy created by the BOA is something to be proud of, insulate and protect.  So, tough decisions have to be made.  The answer to every question is - "Whatever is best for the BOA."  Unfortunately, that means that the people deciding fates are choosing to favor seniority over talent.  That means that the people who have slogged away thanklessly may get a better shot than others who are more gifted.  The problem is that both crowds are deserving.  I haven't put in the time that others have but I have put in hours and hours and hours of work. 

Before, I thought (like allBilly) that there was a conspiracy based on ass-kissing and favoritism - like some kind of fraternity.  Instead, it's based on depth of commitment, which means time invested.  Those who have more in the bank are getting on a plane, those who haven't are on the outside looking in. 

Anyway, this is a psuedo-bitch, but not really.  I'm prepared to be happy no matter what happens.

Oh yeah, CONGRATS TO OH-SNAP! WHO JUST FOUND OUT SHE MADE LAW REVIEW!! 

Killing Two Words With One Post

escheat n - the reversion of lands in English feudal law to the lord of the fee when there are no heirs capable of inheriting it under the original grant; the reversion of property to the crown in England or to the state in the U.S. when there are no legal heirs.  v - to cause to revert by escheat

adjunct n - something added or joined to another thing but not essentially a part of it; an associate or assistant of another.  adj - attached in a subordinate or temporary capacity to a staff

Used in a sentence:  As an adjunct to the ruling made by the probate court to the disgruntled heirs, the judge said that the decedent's intestacy was the reason why most of the acreage would escheat to the United States.

Note:  A decedent (one of my favorite law school words - so morbid!) is a recently deceased person and intestacy means "without a will."

Top Lines at the STCL Summer Mock Trial Tournament

10. Black Leather Hat: "Sir, what is Newton's First Law."

The Weatherman: "Objection! Relevance."

9. Ojo Rojo: "No, you see, this is a courtroom. You don't get to ask any questions. Only I get to ask you questions."

8. Oh Snap: "You know, it's not like it's a punishment or something to get a 1L as a partner. But it kinda is."

7. "I'm glad you won, but I don't like your partner worth a shit."

6. Former National Mock Trial Champion: "Oh, and I never want to hear 'And I bet you've chased a few balls in your day' in a closing argument ever again."

5. Distinguished Mock Trial Judge: "You objected very loudly. You've got to understand that objections are, in large part, to protect the appellate record. The trial transcript is only going to say that you objected; not that you objected with gusto."

4. The Weatherman: "On April 4, 1999 at 3:40 in the afternoon there was a motorcycle accident in front of your store. AND SOMEBODY DIED." "Do you mean to tell us that you didn't know about that?"

3. Ojo Rojo: "Ma'am, look down to the third to last entry on the sheet. Do you see that on September 19, 2000 that an eighteen wheeler jacknifed in your parking lot at 3:14 in the morning?"

Aw Shucks Mama aka Face For Radio: *pause* *pause* *pause*

Ojo Rojo: "Do you see it there on the sheet?"

Aw Shucks Mama aka Face For Radio: "Umm. What date did you say?"

Ojo Rojo: "September 19, 2000."

Aw Shucks Mama aka Face For Radio: *pause* *pause*

Ojo Rojo (getting agitated): "It's the third one from the bottom. Do you see it?"

Aw Shucks Mama aka Face For Radio: *pause* "Umm." *pause*

Ojo Rojo: "Ma'am, do you have a problem reading?"

2. (At the after-after party.) Ojo (after several celebratory drinks): "Say, J.F., have you, uh, gained some weight up top?"

J.F. (after considerably more celebratory drinks and in a thick Texas drawl): "Naahh. I bought some big ol' titties!!"

1. Ojo Rojo: "Your honor, could you please warn the witness not to try to get a signal from opposing counsel as to how to answer. She's making eye contact with them."

Kaydubya: "Your honor, we can't help it if we're attractive."

His Honor: "Let the record reflect that opposing counsel is attractive."