What You Need to Know, Find Out Here

You have to love those professors who can manage to stretch a 15 minute lecture into a full 50 minutes each time they grab the lectern.

And you have to applaud the professors who can do that without putting you to sleep.

But the professor that gets the biggest slap on the back is the one that can lull you into a false sense of security where you begin to appreciate--even look forward too--those "15/50 Lectures". . .

Only to shock your happy e-wandering, dream-car shopping, ESPN.com reading, monopoly playing, IM conversating butt back to reality by suddenly going over 5 cases and 3 different important concepts in one class period.

And you wake up with about 5 minutes left in class and think, "Where are we???"

Because he'd just spent 3 days to go over one short case but,

after 12 cups of coffee, 8 snickers bars, a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts and half-bottle of his little boy's Desoxyn® CII,

In the last 45 minutes he just managed to skip two chapters ahead.

And you are left doing your best to guess where the prof. is at . . .

Because I have one of those professors this semester (and he is a great prof),

And because I can't trust aLs anymore to not have me laughing about such things as the rules on how to survive a Zombie invasion during the most unfunny portion of the lecture,

I can no longer read his blawg while in class.

To those 2 or 3 people using this blawg to find others to read, it has become equally apparent to me that I am acting in a fiduciary position and have the responsibility to warn you of those blawgs that could get you booted from class.

Therefore,

In the next week I figure I will restructure my links to warn you of those blawgs that are too funny to read in class.

Please don't be offended if your blawg does not end up on this list. And just because a blawg is not on the list doesn't mean it can't make you crack up during a discussion of the Hotchpot in Tax Class.

But just know--Moonlighting in Misery won't be on that list either, believe-you-me.

If it was it would sort of defeat the purpose of the list altogether to be taking advice on what blawgs not to read in class from another blawg you shouldn't be reading in class, either.

Wouldn't it?

For that reason, I am certifying that this blawg is safe to read in class without risk of laughing or even cracking a smile. Ever.

And for purposes of liability arising under such representations, I am appointing Legally Blonde as my agent for service of process.

Have fun serving on her.

What Kind of Animal is Goofy?

I was thinking last night and quite bothered by a realization . . .

We don't have stupid nicknames for 1Ls,

or at least none that I am aware of.

And this is a shame.

I mean, we have nicknames for high school freshman, and the innocent wide-eyed college newbies that invade campuses each year.

So why haven't we let our creative juices flow on this one?

(Okay, okay . . . skip the thought, that's just wrong, you predators)

I mean, I know why I didn't as a OneL . . . why give the 3L's a hand if they aren't creative enough on their own??

But, seriously, I'm a 3L now. And its high time we had a name for incoming OneL's.

So here is my suggestion, and I welcome any others . . .

I remember calling the freshmen in high school "Mickies" . . .

So, maybe, along those lines--

OneL's deserve the name "Goofies"

Because, Lord knows, you gotta be goofy to want to start 3 years of this crap . . .

But once you are into your 2nd year, you are no longer goofy.

You are just stuck.

With no way out.

Thank God I can see the light at the end of the tunnel . . .

What Ever Happened to Plausible Deniability?

So of the entire incoming 1L class at Texas Tech . . .

I get assigned as the mentor of the lone student that reads my little blawg.

And it only took one short e-mail exchange with a few details about myself to give up the secret!

Seriously, for the person who first wrote about "Plausible Deniability" . . .

I really, truly suck at it!!

And, yes, "Folsom" (that is what I will refer to him as--"Folsom"--and it does make sense, if only to me . . . but then most of what I write makes sense only to me so why should this be any different?)

Anyway,

Yes, Folsom, having me as your mentor means you rock. hard.

How Do You Scare a New OneL?

Tell him he really has to study.

Yes, for the 5 of you still reading me . . .

I am back!

At least for one more year, and then who knows.

I really should get more serious about this blawging stuff, y'know, and stop goofing off and wasting my time on doing actual work . . . that pays.

Future Baby Misery can always get a job himself when it comes time to getting a car. But he'll always think his dad is the coolest because of the legacy left by this blawg . . .

Right?

So I had to participate in the new student orientation today.

After listening to the faculty and administration drone on for two days, they unleashed the new class on a few of us right before letting them break to spend the weekend drinking their fears away.

And some poor soul asked the question, "Do you really have to study 55 hours per week to do well in law school?"

Hell yeah! I was wondering the same thing when they tried to push that off on me 2 years ago. Great question.

One girl volunteered by quickly blurting out, "No, I may study 5 to 10 hours."

To which another on our panel replied, "Yes, but its different for everyone. I have to study a lot more. And if you do you'll see it pays off. When you are up here at 5:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning, just think about how great you will do in the long run . . ."

And the eyes of those new 1Ls got huge . . .

You. mean. I. actually. need. to. study. at. 5:30.in.the.morning.on.a.saturday?

Ha ha. Yeah right! It doesn't happen.

I have never seen a law student at the school studying at 5:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning.

'Course, it'd be easier to test that theory if I ever actually went up there at that time myself.

But I'm not crazy, either. And if I was really into testing theories . . .

I would have gone to medical school.

Bun in the Oven

Tomorrow evening I return to Lubbock so that I can take my wife to her doctor's appointment on Thursday. They tell us we should know whether it will be a Baby Girl Misery or a Baby Boy Misery . . .

I have to miss a Texas Hold 'em Tournament as a result. I tried to convince my wife that we'll have another child and I'll be there the next time we find out the sex of the child . . .

But she didn't quite buy it. I guess this is really important, or something . . .

I mean, I'll have to have the doctor explain what all of those squiggly lines on the screen are anyways, right?

So I'll miss winning enough money to keep Baby Misery in diapers for an entire year . . . so's I can nod my head and pretend I know what the hell the doc is pointing to . . .

Fatherhood.