Fame!

At this CLE, I planned to meet up with another attorney to talk about an oral argument he had that I didn't get to see. He was already on his way out the door when his secretary called me. When I found out that we would be in the same city, I said, Great, I'll just find him there! What does he look like?

"About 5'10. Um, salt and pepper beard."

At the time, I didn't think anything about it but when I arrived at the CLE site, I realized there were like, 75-100 aging white men with salt and pepper beards. Whoops. I tried to discreetly ogle everyone's nametag without looking like I was looking for a sugar daddy or something. I had just about given up after three days of searching for this Mystery Attorney, when some random guy came up to me.

Are you Elaine?

Yes.

Hi - I'm the Mystery Attorney. I heard you were looking for me.

[for the record, he was not anywhere near 5'10]

I said that I had been at the court the day he argued but I had to check out of my hotel by noon and I couldn't stick around to hear the argument. He said, "I remember your argument." Wow - professional recognition! He didn't say anything else, so maybe I should just keep thinking he thought it was so awesome no further comments were necessary.

Too good to resist

From the ABA Journal - "Law Prof:  Some Campaign Finance Laws in 'Grave Danger.'"

Is there any other kind?

Dr. Jekyll (that's a juris doctor) and Ms. Hyde?

So after discovering I had a possible identical twin, I had a hard time concentrating at the CLE. I mean, it just felt really weird. Not because I (potentially) had a long-lost sister or possible twin that I had missed out growing up with but that I had a possible identical twin...with identical DNA.

What if she was a serial killer? Maybe I was being framed! I'd be put in jail forever! Well, perhaps not, thanks to Boumediene. But still - would they would deport me? Maybe they already had warrants out for her/my/our arrest!!!

Some adopted people are probably happy to know they have a sibling. I'm paranoid that I might have one. Not only for the legal implications (above) but for the social/moral ones - like, what if she needs a kidney and I was the best match? I mean, you can't hardly say no, right? Still, I'm pretty selfish with my organs and it doesn't seem fair that I have to hand over, like, half of my renal system because she happened to find me.

I did ask about the age and the lady said early 30s...curiouser and curiouser! I didn't grow up around Wisconsin, but maybe that was strategically planned by the CIA or someone.

I'm with Beanie on this one - I'm kind of creeped out.

I'm my own doppelganger...wait a minute...

I'm in the middle of a multi-day CLE. I was cutting a class, wanting to score free stuff (like a highlighter with post-it flags built inside!!!) and get a refill on coffee. Of course, all the coffee urns were empty, so we're all standing around like junkies on a street corner, looking forlorn and holding empty coffee cups. Invariably someone would come up and push on the spigot lever, like none of us had thought of that yet. Then someone would say, "It's out," and the other person would say, "Are you sure?" Then they'd try to tip the urn to see if they could get any dribbles out. Like a friend said, it was like people who push the elevator button multiple times even though it's lit up.

But this post is not about coffee. It's about me. Or someone impersonating me. Or me impersonating someone else?

While I was waiting for more coffee to come, I noticed a lady staring at me. Like, giving me THE EYE--not the evil eye or the all-seeing eye...more like a "you look really familiar - oh, it's [insert any female Asian: Margaret Cho/Michelle Kwan/Tammy Duckworth/Hello Kitty blah blah blah]!" It was kind of awkward knowing she was looking at me, so I introduced myself. I gave her the benefit of the doubt because maybe we had met before and maybe I just didn't remember.

In fact, she was sure we had met before, except that it wasn't we (me and her) but her and my twin sister. You know, my long-lost twin sister. The identical one. I thought that was kind of weird, but all Asians look alike, so whatever, right? I laughed awkwardly and said, "Oh, I doubt it - I'm adopted."

So is she! She was adopted from Korea.

[!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

Anyway, this went on and on, about how similar our smiles were, etc. etc. Then she said, She always felt like there was a "void" in her life, like she was missing a twin or a sibling. Have you ever felt that way?

Anyway, to make a long and strange story short, I ended up giving her my card. I'm sort of hoping that this was just the world's weirdest and most elaborate pick-up because the ramifications of having a twin are just too scary. More thoughts on that later.

Quackers: an update

Leftover duckwich did not kill me. But the bread was kind of soggy because the waiter boxed up the salad underneath the sandwich. You know, just like I told him not to.

To answer CBK's question, I ate a lemon tart. And a chocolate tart. And maybe the strawberries too.

Daffy

I had a "business lunch" today - basically that means other people talked business while I nodded and stuffed my face. I was excited because the place we were going to had really tasty desserts. Once there, nothing on the menu looked that great. I didn't want to look weird by just ordering desserts (yes, plural) so I ordered a croque-monsieur, which is basically a grilled ham and cheese sandwich.

The waiter informed me that their croque-monsieur was probably not quite what I was expecting because instead of ham they use...duck. DUCK! Umm, okay. Who eats duck sandwiches? Seemed weird to me but everything else sounded less appealing than duck, so I ordered the duck sandwich.

It was ok. I mean, it tasted like duck. The texture was sort of like a portobello mushroom, the really giant kind. It was kind of salty and had that dark meat taste. I only ate half of my duckwich and stashed the rest in the fridge. I'm now thinking that maybe day-old duckwich isn't very good but who knows? Provided I live through it, I'll update this tomorrow.

Um, what doesn't add up here?

I bought some cherry juice concentrate (part of a failed experiment) and noticed the back of the bottle said "100% juice when reconstituted."

Does this mean it's like 300% juice now?

Friday Cat Blogging: Stuff for cats

Cardboard playhouses!

Refined cat furniture?

Vindicated!

For all you haters who thought that "Who farted in here" was not not hearsay: I got an email from someone pointing to a newspaper article titled "Suspect makes a statement." The suspect was being interrogated and the interrogation was being recorded. The recording was played for the jury.

[The officer] said he needed a break, asking [the suspect] if he needed one, too.

[The suspect] said no, but apparently he did, because after [the officer] left the room, [the suspect] shifted in his chair and let out a long, trombone-like fart.

Ha! Perhaps I am America's Next Top Evidence Prof!

Honestly, I never intended for this blog to involve so much farting. I went four years without talking about it, and now this makes three fart posts this year alone.

REport*

I did it! I finished a Sunday Times crossword without any cheating at all!!!


















*This week's puzzle was "Did you get the memo?" and all of the themed answers began with "re"...you know, as in a memo.

Good morning, Mr. Tyler. Going down?

This lady is 77 years old and a law student. Not even a third-year - she still has a ways to go! The story says she "is the only student at McGeorge School of Law in Sacramento who has previously worked as an elevator operator." I'm not sure that's saying a lot since probably that's true of most law students in the country.

Actually, the last place I saw elevator operators was in New York. There was one at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and one at the U.N. The one at the U.N. actually had a little jump seat that she sat on. Well, and there was a lobby elevator-button-pusher at the hotel but he didn't ride in the elevator, he just called the elevator to the lobby when you walked in.

While this elevator tidbit initially piqued my interest, I was more curious about her admission.

Sometimes (especially at good schools) people feel that "older" students (although for her I don't think I have to use the quotes because I think she genuinely qualifies as an old person) who don't have any intent of practicing or who realistically have very little time left to practice "took" a spot that some younger student could have had. I'm not sure how much of that factors into admissions processes, if at all.

Say this lady was 77 and going to medical school. What if some young person who wanted to devote his or her life to, say, deworming orphans in Somalia, but was beat out by this lady with previous elevator operating experience? Does the school consider the media such a story would generate in their school? Should the school take the more "interesting" candidate so it can put on its brochure that they have a very diverse student body? Should the school just take whoever can afford to go there, regardless of other factors? Should the school balance out the potential for career longevity? Even if the older students also wanted to deworm orphans, she almost certainly would not "contribute" as much to society as the younger one, since the younger one has more career potential and longevity.

It's easy to say, "Well, the younger student clearly wasn't a good candidate if that's the only school s/he applied to and got in," but I think there are valid reasons for not being able to pick up and move across the country on a whim. Elderly parents, family, children, personal mobility, personal finances, etc. So, assuming the candidacy factors are equal, should the school favor one over the other?

Ladies who don't like to lunch

I work in a small-ish office, and it's a pretty tight-knit group. There's a lot of pressure to eat lunch together most days, whether it's at a restaurant or just in the conference room. Maybe I'm just a mean, crabby, anti-social, psycho old lady, but I get all bent out of shape over the whole lunch thing.

1. I bring my lunch most days, so if I eat out, it's a wasted lunch. A PB&J can last a couple days in the fridge but then I have tons of bread piling up at home, so I still have a wasted food problem. Until they start selling loaves with like, 8 slices or less, I'll still complain that it's too hard to finish a loaf.
   
2. Lunch out = money. Technically, I have enough money to eat out, but I don't see the point in blowing $200 a month to eat lunch ($10 lunch x 5 days week x 4 weeks).
   
3. Lunch out = unknown calories. I'm not as much of a dieter as an exercise-avoider. I like to keep track of how much I'm eating because I don't want to have to exercise. (I know, bad, but at least I'm not getting bigger this way.) Basically, I eat enough to keep me at a pretty even keel. And 98% of the time, the office wants to eat Mexican food. Maybe you're unaware of this, but that's not the most diet-friendly cuisine around.
   
4. I'm very schedule-oriented. If I know ahead of time that we're having lunch for a celebration or some other scheduled reason, I can plan ahead for it (have cash on hand, not bring a sandwich, not eat 50 snacks between breakfast and lunch, wear loose pants - or better yet, a loose dress). I don't do well with the 11:58 "Come on, we're going to lunch."
5. Sometimes I like to be by myself and do the crossword while I'm eating my sad little sandwich and drinking my delicious Diet Dr. Pepper. When it's a group lunch in the conference room, it's a little rude to ignore everyone and do the crossword.
6. Lunch with other people tends to take a long time. Like, way more than an hour. Again, this interferes with my totally OCD scheduling.
   

I know this probably sounds mean and selfish. But I am selfish! I've tried declining saying things like, "No thanks, I've already eaten" (true) or "I brought a lunch" (true) or "I have XYZ due." (true) These only work for a couple of lunches a month, so it's not that I haven't tried getting out of it.

Am I abnormally anti-social?

Well, and the other thing is, the person I replaced didn't get along with everyone else, partly due to the anti-social behavior. However, at the last status meeting, I was told I had done in 7 months as much work as my predecessor had done in two years, so I've got that on my side. But I would sort of like not to be fired over lunch because that would be hard to explain to a future employer.

Headed for greatness

My crappy new hair is too short in the front to tuck behind my ears, so it flops forward a lot. I don't want to be mistaken for some emo lawyer, so I try to clip it back or wear headbands. I like headbands (when they fit) but I can only wear them when I'm not wearing my glasses because there's not enough space behind my ears for both.

So my genius idea is the half-a-headband. It would be like a headband on the top but stop around the ears. It would have little combs or clips so it would stay in place.

Brilliant!

And I thought I was bad at math

"Reasonable doubt" is a difficult standard to define, which is why (I guess) most of the time prosecutors and defense lawyers say it's "just your common, everyday sense." Sure, I think a lot of people lack common sense but I wouldn't say it necessarily disqualifies them from being jurors. However, what if a juror's common sense was actually not common sense?

True story:

Prosecutor: I mean, it's just something you know, something you have an everyday understanding of. Your common sense. For instance, what's two plus two?

Venireperson: Five.

The prosecutor, not missing a beat, just plows on. Hilarious! But wait - there's more!

[Later on]

Prosecutor: So what you have to ask yourself is, "Does this all add up? Does this make sense? Has the prosecution proven all the elements?" You know, two plus two is five. If so, then we've met our burden of proof beyond a reasonable doubt.

I'm not even sure whether that argument actually cuts in favor of the prosecution. If 2+2 = 5, then have they actually proven beyond a reasonable doubt? Or is it: if the jury convicts on 2+2=5, then the prosecution did not prove BRD because 2+2=4? (For example - What if they proved parts 1 and 2 of Offense A and then parts 3, 4, and 5 of Offense B, none of which constitute an offense? They didn't over-prove it, they just proved different things and didn't arrive at the right combination of elements to prove an offense).

Long story short, the jury convicted.

Friday Cat Blogging: an update

Remember the cat and the weird guy in the parking lot? It turns out that he adopted the cat! Apparently the cat had been living in an abandoned house by our parking lot that was being renovated, and so the cat would hang around his old digs. The guy started feeding the cat, then getting closer and closer to where he could take the cat home.

The people I heard talking about this said he's nice but weird. At least he likes cats. Aww.

A hire power

The paralegal that came with my job recently left the office to return to school so we posted an opening and began interviewing this week. We do group interviews (like, the whole office interviewing the candidate at once), which I think are increasingly more common these days.

Out of a stack of resumes, we all submitted our top 3 choices. Everyone agreed on Candidates A and B, and everybody but me wanted Candidate C. I fought for Candidate D, which nobody else had listed as one of their top picks. We interviewed all four and it came down to C and D. I thought that was interesting because neither one was one that 100% support at the beginning.

Anyway, the ultimate hiring decision was up to me because the paralegal would fall under my direct command. (Wow! Power!) I chose Candidate C (the one I hadn't originally thought was worthy of an interview), and not just because Candidate C knocked over a cup of coffee at the interview, although I do like the idea of having someone who would be ok with me being spazzy too.

Candidate C begins on Monday. If only Candidate C were blonde; the blog name would be "Paralegally Blonde." Hmm...perhaps I could still hire the blonde.

Denouement

When I first got this haircut, I thought, "This reminds me of someone. Not in a good way." After working my way through the five stages of grief, I found the answer.

First, denial. "How do you screw up a bob?!"

Then anger. "Are you kidding me? You don't take American Express?! Actually, why am I even paying you? You should be paying me!"

Bargaining. "Please let me wake up from a devastating coma to find out that my hair is not non-existent anymore. Even if that means that because I was in a coma, I couldn't blog and I lost all my readers. All nine of them. Well, ten if you count me."

Depression. "Putting shiny hair products on my hair is pointless! I'll never look decent again!"

Finally, acceptance. I have concluded that my haircut is basically a less greasy and minimally better version of Lisa's hair. No wonder she has such an abrasive and bad attitude - I totally feel her pain. Maybe I'll start wearing a bandana to work.

I didn't get a party from Bar-Bri. Kids are so spoiled nowdays.

I actually truly love this song. It's always at the top of my songs list because "Aqua" is usually the first artist. (I'm not sure how that works...maybe I should put in some ABBA?)



Also, that girl is super awesomely tall. Maybe I would have been a Bar-Bri rep if they had promised me a pink Corvette.

h/t Legal Antics

America's Next Top Evidence Prof!

I was trying to explain to someone how a statement was non-hearsay because it wasn't being introduced for the truth of the matter asserted but to show the effect the statement had on the listener. In our case, after such a non-hearsay statement was made, Defendant then made an adoptive admission. Anyway, none of that is important: what I'm getting to is my ability to instantly whip up unforgettable, real-life examples to illustrate my point.

How is that not hearsay?

Ok. Um...let's say that we're sitting here having this discussion and all of the sudden I go, "Who just farted in here?" and your face turns red. They could introduce my statement not for the truth of the matter asserted but to show the effect my statement had on you, the listener. By the way, who was that?*

So, boys and girls, "Who just farted in here?" is not hearsay. Say it all you want in court - it has the Prof. McPan stamp of approval.

*Actually, nobody had, but I wanted to make my example seem even more realistic.

It's a...boy?

I was having a mid-length crisis and impulsively decided to go for a "summer cut." I asked for a chin-length or a bit longer swingy bob, and we could discuss bangs afterwards. Given the title, you can tell this isn't going to end well.

The result? The hair barely reaches the bottom of my earlobes - and that's the longest part. The hairs in the front barely reach the bottom of my nose. It's blunt-cut across the back in a really awkward place: too short to need an electric razor, but long enough to creep into my collar. She could have at least tapered the sides so it didn't look like a bad wig. Argh!!!!!

And it makes me look like a boy.

I'm really being serious when I say this. My 1L year, I got a short cut during spring break and someone approached me later and said they thought I was some new person who joined the class. As in, "And I thought to myself, who's that new guy?" So I know that I look like a boy. And not even a good-looking one. One who needs a haircut.

I think the only solution is to go shorter and get a cut that doesn't make me look like the killer from No Country for Old Men. *sigh* I'm inconsolable. I did buy a new deodorant, though, so maybe that'll cheer me up tomorrow morning when I realize that yes, my hair still sucks.

A shoe-in

The annual "you can't wear shorts or flip flops to work" email went out the other day. Like we really need it. I mean, my office is business casual but still professional, and I think we all know what's appropriate to wear. Furthermore, it's not like anyone in my office has even done any of those things, so I'm not really sure why it went out. Preemptive strike against board shorts, I guess. (Actually, come to think of it, when I asked what the dress code was, the boss specifically said "No beachwear," which I thought at the time was just a joke because we don't live near a beach [that I know of].)

Anyway, a group of attorneys (including some not from my office) and I went to lunch the other day and began discussing appropriate office attire. One lady said she often saw baby D.A.s wearing flip-flops on the walk in (they park rather far, so I don't blame them for not wearing their shoes) and then change into their heels once at work. (She didn't say if they wore them while wearing pantyhose. I say this because the title of this article suggests the debate is over whether it's appropriate to wear pantyhose with her flip-flops or if that just really crosses the line.) I didn't really see anything wrong with that, but she was appalled. I asked what they ought to wear and she said loafers or tennis shoes. How are ugly tennis shoes worse than flip-flops? Then she said they ought to wear more comfortable shoes generally. Given all the hullaballoo about whether women should just "make it work," I didn't want to point out that she could get away with the ugly/comfy squared-off loafers because she was much older and nobody expected her to wear heels every day.

From the WSJ Law blog:

To those who think shoes do not count before a jury think again. I just completed a 5 day jury trial where I ensured that I wore different shoes each day. Can you believe that by day 2, the jury was commenting on my shoes. At the end of the trial, when I spoke with the jury, they again commented on my shoes saying when they came back to the jury room and could not talk about the case each day, at least they could talk about my shoes. I was tipped off by a fellow (guy really) colleague that this may be the case. The judge confirmed that the jury notices what you are wearing and for women, that means shoes. Go figure.

-Lady litigator

From the ABA Journal:

No thank you on the kitten heels. As for the two inch pumps, those are for the faint of heart. I’ll just keep wearing my 3.5 inch pumps which look just grand with my nicely tailored suit. I’m sure the jury will be perfectly fine with my choice of shoes and suiting.

-Pessa

I look at heel height this way: I'm so short that unless the heels get into fetish heights, I'm still not going to look very tall, so there's no point in wearing something beyond a comfortable height. They don't make a lot of non-ugly shoes in my size (very small, sort of wide), so I generally have to suffer to wear shoes, period. I have a mental chart in my head that shows the relationship between "how nice does this shoe look" and "how long can I wear it comfortably and under what circumstances" and I just go from there.

Friday Cat Blogging

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

-The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

As a (court of) last resort

I have no idea why I've been so obsessed lately with workwear.

At my recent appearance at El Court-o Last Resort-o, I hemmed and hawed for like a week over whether to wear a pantsuit or if I should really wear a skirt suit.

Pantsuit pros:
Can't see my legs shake
Can't see my legs are unshaven
Don't have to wear pantyhose, which in itself is a whole other set of worries
Pants have pockets

Cons:
If not careful, panty lines
Not court-appropriate?

Pros of a skirt suit:
Really, just one: you're expected to wear one as an unwritten rule

Cons:
Pretty much everything that is a pro for pantsuits

I had finally decided to wear my go-to pantsuit (medium dark gray...um, with purple pinstripes). From a distance it looks mostly gray, and besides, John Grisham has a gray and purple suit too, and he's a kajillionaire. After all, why shouldn't I wear pants? I work just fine in pants. I don't think I'll be mistaken and be called "Mr. McPan" or anything by the court. I felt all "I am woman, watch me wear pants"-ish for a few days.

Then I chickened out and decided to go with a plain black pantsuit. Perhaps purple stripes was taking it too far.

Then I chickened even farther out and decided to wear a skirt suit. I guess I was just so concerned that people would be thinking about how I wasn't wearing a skirt suit that it would end up detracting from my argument. Which could have been a good thing, depending. So my rebellious Don't-judge-me-by-my-pantsuits gusto eventually ended up being oh-so-daring in a navy (but beige-piped!) skirt suit. *sigh*

In the end, I guess I was glad I just wore the skirt because worrying about the myriad of things that can go wrong with pantyhose (e.g., getting a run, having them be too dark or too light and look weird, having the top roll down when you sit down, and then when you get back up you have a strange bulge) was easier than worrying whether they were thinking evil thoughts about me because I wore pants.

However, I've decided that in a lower court argument, I will wear pants if I want to. I've seen other women do it, and I've never heard anyone talk about it.

Advice? Thoughts?

Orange you glad I didn't say banana?

I know, I know - two phone posts in a row. I just can't help myself, though.

I spent the better part of my morning the other day looking for a new doctor. I thought that having a list from the insurance agency would be easier in that I would just pick someone off of it. As it turns out, the first 31 offices either didn't accept patients from my company anymore, weren't accepting patients generally, or were booked - until August. WTF?! You'd think I was trying to get reservations at some fancy-pants restaurant or something.

As the morning went on, I became increasingly irritated. Especially when I noticed that many of the phones were answered, "Doctor's office." Ok, that doesn't help me. When there are four doctors in one office, I don't know who I've called, or which office I've called (after the first dozen or so, you start forgetting who you just called). I feel like I'm involved in a terribly-executed knock-knock joke when I'm like, "Um...who's the doctor?"

Can't they say, "Plaza Medical Group" or "Dr. So and So's office" or something else a bit more descriptive? They don't answer the phone at Domino's with "Pizza." Maybe Little Caesar's might say "Pizza Pizza" (or maybe the pizza chain Pizza Pizza), but "Doctor doctor" is only good if followed by "Gimme the news, I got a bad case of lovin' you."

Then I remembered that I've heard that a lot at law offices too, especially the small ones. People just pick up the phone and say, "Law office." Perhaps I'll start doing that. When the phone rings, I'll just say, "My office."

Telephony

I hate my office phone. It's like every other office phone - you know, with the curly phone cord that gets tangled up in itself all the time. Every now and then I detach one end and unwind the cord, then plug the phone back in. I'm really tempted to unplug it and just leave it there.

Surely by now we could have invented a less tangly phone cord, right? Maybe one like a vacuum cleaner cord that pulls out as needed and has the zippy one-push retraction action. That would definitely make hanging up more fun (than it already is).

I tried thinking of good replacement materials, but the only things I could come up with were elastic and rubber. Or flubber. That might be good. Suggestions?

Who you gonna call? The Coast Guard!

Happy bloggiversary to me

Yes, four years plus a day. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This blog is almost old enough for pre-K.

Before I know it, it'll be off to college and having a life of its own. Where will I be then?

Death in the afternoon early evening

Pour one jigger absinthe into a Champagne glass. Add iced Champagne until it attains the proper opalescent milkiness. Drink three to five of these slowly.

I only got as far as one. I can't even imagine three to five.

So if you ever wanted to know what absinthe tasted like, now you know: it's gross. It's like ouzo, except green. If the menu had just said "Like ouzo but green," I would have saved myself the ten dollars and embarrassment of ordering a drink that I didn't want to drink.

If you're a huge fan of the essence of licorice enveloped in licorice flavored and steeped in licorice, then absinthe may be the drink for you. If you're like me and find licorice and disgusting and creepy, then absinthe most undoubtedly is not the drink for you.

To the moon!

Yes, zero pounds on the moon!

Back in the saddle

I'm back from vacation. I was surprised by the amount of comments I received when I was gone and wasn't even "live"-blogging (I did it all by future posting). I'm sure there's a lesson to be learned in here somewhere.

Amazingly, I had less than 1,000 spam emails in my gmail. And yes, I've had more than 1,000 spam mails in there at once.

Lovely spam! wonderful spam!