Precios bajos

November 26, 2005

Today is Sunday, and with finals fast approaching, I felt it was necessary for me to spend some more quality time with my new best friend: the library. I really felt proud of myself for getting my lazy ass out of bed and away from the all the football games on TV, until I actually got to the library. There was like twenty other students in one reading room. Goddamn law students make me sick.

I think I might have learned more Spanish driving to school in the past couple months than I did taking three years of it in high school. Used car lots are constantly serenading me with “Precios bajos!” and “Credito facil!” and “E-Z financio!” Actually, I think I might have made that last one up. I have no idea about that, but the constant stream of Lavanderias, Carnicerias, and Iglesias as I drive through my neighborhood offer me a veritable cornucopia of chances to learn the language of my Hispanic neighbors.

So I recently got back my first legal writing assignment, a ten page memo evaluating a hypothetical about whether there was enough evidence to prosecute a dude for felony stalking (I told the district attorney to fry the guy). Anyway, I got a 71, and the class median was 70. When a classmate asked me how I did, I calmly looked her in eye, gave a little nod, and nonchalantly said “above average.” Oh yeah, look at me, I’m intimidating.

It’s kind of cool how laptops combined with wireless internet and instant messenger allows today’s law students to pass 21st century notes in class. It looks to the professor like we are diligently taking notes, when actually I am cursing to my friend about how I just lost Terrell Owens for the season from my fantasy football team.

One thing I hate about LA is the fact it is such a damn city. And there is absolutely no public transportation, so to get anywhere always requires a car. Really, the reason this bothers me is the fact that it is difficult to get a ride home when I want to go out and get plastered. My roommate Jon and I have epic battles of Ro-Sham-Bo to determine who drives and who gets to drink. On the bright side, I would say my alcoholism and decreased by about 50% because of this.

So my civil procedure class took a field trip to the district courthouse the other day to watch some proceedings. Fascinating stuff, really (well, maybe for a law student it was. Most people would probably be bored out of their skull). Anyway, so there was a guy getting sentenced for setting up a drug deal over the phone. Wait, I thought to myself, wasn’t that the same crime NFL runningback Jamal Lewis committed and received a sentence of 3 months of jail time, to be served in the offseason? This guy got 46 months. You mean there are different standards for NFL stars and Mexican immigrants who speak no English? Color me shocked, but I think a little bit of my faith in the legal system might have died that day.

"Maybe I'll buy a chocolate factory" – NBA star Andre Kirilenko on what to buy with his new eight figure contract. Who wouldn’t love a dorky white dude in the NBA who owns a chocolate factory?

I finally did it. I deleted the games off my laptop. I actually did it once before, about three weeks ago, but made the fatal mistake of not emptying out the recycle bin. I lasted about three days, after which I realized good old solitaire and minesweeper were still on my hard drive after I my half-assed attempt to remove them. Needless to say, I made sure to make up for my missed time by doubling my game playing efforts in class.

Having to deal with rush hour traffic constantly, I think there are few things that get me more excited than when the freeways are empty. I practically get a boner when I can drive 70 MPH.

Since I deleted the games off my laptop, class has been a little rough. Without an outlet to distract me from yet another boring lecture on why P can sue D in Oklahoma or New Jersey, but not in New York, I have found another means to get through those 75 minute civil procedure classes. I fall asleep.

So I’m in the library, diligently studying away in anticipation of finals, and I get a call from my roommate. “Dude,” he says, “ I really need you to pick something up on your way home for me.” I immediately picture Jon at home, in an emergency situation, where he sprained his ankle or something and needs some sort of medical help. He goes on to tell me, “I just bought a bunch of Eggos and forgot to get syrup.” I’m not going to answer my phone anymore when he calls.

I just noticed I have really hairy arms.

Taken directly from my torts law outline book: “P and D are on their first date. D, in order to induce P to go to bed with him, tells her that he does not have herpes. P, in reliance on D’s statement, consents to sex. Unbeknownst to either P or D, D in fact has herpes, which he transmits to P. Notwithstanding the mistake, P’s consent is effective, even though she would never have given it had she known the full facts. Therefore, P cannot sue for battery.” Glad we cleared that up.

So I was doing my laundry the other day at one of the local ghettomats, and I noticed there was one of those super discount stores and decided to go in and take a look. I was blown away at the incredible variety of shit they had. From motor oil to ice cream to women’s underwear. What did I purchase? A can of pineapple slices, toothpaste, a set of precision screwdrivers, strawberry jelly, and an assortment of nails. Total bill: $7.10.

OK, so, looking around, my arms aren’t especially hairy when compared to my classmates. I guess I just never realized how hairy arms generally are.

I know I rag on law school a lot, and more than one person has told me that they are reconsidering taking the plunge into a legal education because of some of my stories. Well, I just met a guy who made $2,400 in his summer job. A week. After his first year of law school. Excuse me, but I have to get back to studying.