New Underwear.

I bought a couple packs of new underwear a while back. I had two size options 28-32, or 34-36. Now I think I comfortably fit into 33, I'm talking like not tight, but not gonna fall off my ass type comfortable. I own a few pair of boxers that are on the higher end of the waist-measurement scale and I can't stand having loose [note: that is how to properly use "loose," makes me want to puke when people use loose when they clearly meant "lose." No one ever looses anything.] elastic, and thinking maybe I'm not as thick in the mid-section as I've been hoping I'm not, I opted for the 28-32 option. And I don't mean opt like I bought one pair because I was in a pinch and needed clean boxers, I mean I bought six new pairs, which is essentially a year's worth of investing in underwear for me.

Not a great idea. I was too confident, too hopeful, and too vain to acknowledge that 28-32 is for the younger and thinner version of me. These sonsofbitches are so narrow that I have to wiggle and wrangle them over my hips. Sure, my waist may still be a 32, but my hips certainly aren't. So every morning I'm forced by dirty laundry to put one of these new pairs on, I have do a Van Damme esque dance, sans the face punches. And the legs on these things are ridiculous. I don't need an outrageous and obnoxious Jnco-cuff on my boxer leg-circumference, just a little breathing room, that's all I'm asking for. They became so unbearable that I actually cut slits up the sides in order to accommodate my apparently chub thighs. The proportion is all out of whack. And now I have tattered portions on my underwear and after a few more washes, I will likely look like a bum, a well bathed and properly groomed wearing-underwear-only bum.

Jello Shots & Butt Naked.

I went out last Friday and got absolutely hammed, torched, pissed as a fiddler's bitch type drunk. Note to self: jello shots are more dangerous than they look.

I remember getting on the bus. I remember bitching at some guy named Gomez for obnoxiously opening his latest amazon package in the seat next to me. I remember becoming best-friends-on-the-bus with Gomez shortly thereafter. I remember declining Gomez' multiple offers to buy me a drink as long as I went to the bar he was going to. I remember thinking I was getting hit on on the bus and feeling decent about that. I remember getting off the bus and walking into the show. And I even remember going into the crowd and dancing in the moosh pit, yes moosh, there was no moshing, only mild mooshing.

I don't remember giving my card to the bar. I don't remember leaving my card at the bar [only had $3 on the tab? you know you're drunk when you spend 3 bucks and still forget your card]. I don't remember punching my friend "right in the solar plexus" after he answered "yes" whenever I asked him, "are you leaving soon?" [I punch like I'm anemic, no worries there] I don't remember getting into the cab. I don't remember calling a rather sensitive girl friend "dipshit" multiple times, nor do I remember emphatically telling her she sucked at kickball. I don't remember making oatmeal when I got home.

But I certainly do remember waking up butt naked, with a splitting headache and next to a 1L only wearing her bottoms. Didn't get beat up, didn't have blacked-out sex, I'll chalk that up as a victory.

Falling Slowly.

Admittedly, I haven't had much time to see new movies this year, especially none of the recently critically aclaimed ones (i.e. Juno, There Will be Blood, or No Country for Old Men). But, one film I did make it a point to see was Once, and one song I had made it a point to download and listen to dozens upon dozens of times was Falling Slowly.

So I really didn't have much invested in who won what award, but when I saw that the Acadamy made a very stellar decision, I was quite pleased.

If you have not heard the song, please, for the love of all that is good, holy, and filled with love, take this opportunity to hear it done well.

San Ho + "Mormons."

So the moot court competition did not go so well. My primary concern was that I didn't get blamed for our lack of progression, I was worried about choking - that didn't happen. The rest of my team was furious with the way things shook out, they left for home even though we all had 2 more nights on our hotel rooms.

Well shit, those hotel rooms were nicer than my bedroom, so I decided to stick it out another night. Fortunately, I had a San Jose homeboy who was willing to take me out on the town for the evening.

I don't recall everything. I know I started with whisky + sobe, switched to pbrs, helped consume a wee bottle of sake, then we went out. I don't remember ordering much, but I know the tecate rounds were firing off like machine guns at Normandy.

I stumbled into a cab, told brosif to take me back to the hotel. I had him hold my wallet while I withdrew funds from the hotel ATM. He told me it wasn't necessary, I think I assured him it was. I don't remember going to my room, but I woke up without puke on my shirt, so score one for the good guys.

And when I finally looked in my wallet a few hours later, there was a random ass number. No name, I'm not even sure it was a bird I was talking to. The area code is Atlanta, go fucking figure.

Now I'm in Utah, god damn this place is white.

Moot Court Shit Show.

So I'm pleased with my team's performance so far. From the sounds of it, the other pair of my took care of Stanford's ass in short order. My partner actually received a strong challenge from New College, I'm not really even sure who took that round. Moot court competitions are a funny little bitch like that. A school like Stanford has so much going for it that they don't need/want to invest in their advocacy program. Consequently, it is "student run" and 1Ls can apparently be on the teams. I wouldn't universally say that 1Ls aren't prepared for stiff moot court competition, but the reality is that if they haven't even completed their spring semester moot court program, chances are slim they've even received the minimum amount of guidance on how to structure an argument, how to deliver it, and how to carry oneself before the judges. New College on the other hand, chip on the shoulder I assume that they have, were very well prepared, knew the law well, and were able to simply and clearly present it to the judges. I'm left assuming that "schools with something to prove" are generally more geared to kicking ass at moot court competitions than T15 schools who really have nothing left to prove.

I think I may have been sharing eyes with one of the birds on the New College team, I dig sharing eyes with birds.

Besides all that mess, this competition has been a shit show as far as organization is concerned. I don't want to name names, so just let's just call him Fuckwad McTard. So Fuckwad, or Mr. McTard, was responsible on the execution of this event. He was able to secure about one-third of the required amount of judges, and a little better percentage of the bailiffs. This translated into all the team coaches having to "volunteer" as preliminary round judges. What the fuck is that? How fair is it to have coaches judging? Here's why that is retarded:

1. Familiarity with the Material

While there is certainly a variance in competence, some of these judges are clearly very invested in this competition. This translates into tougher questions that a regular judge, only familiar with the bench memo, would never think to ask. I'm not 100% opposed to tough questions, as I like the opportunity to shine, but still, not exactly kosher.

2. Incentive to Down-Score

Normally I might say, "well, that shit sucks, but at least it sucks for everyone." Nope, not the case here. Not all the rounds will have a coach participating as a judge. This might not mean much in the W-L columns, but it could mean a shit-ton when it comes to raw score tie-breakers. I don't want to bore you with the details, but I'll leave it at this: Coaches have an incentive to push other teams' score down in order to better the position of the team they coach in the event of a tie-breaker.

3. What the Fuck Happened to Being Anonymous?

So all the teams get told to show up to this meeting, an orientation thing of sorts. They tell us it will be our only chance to learn the numbers of all the teams, information which will not be released at any other point because "the information is confidential." So yea, it's so confidential that it makes sense to tell us at this meeting?

Before telling us the numbers, Fuckwad made sure to note: "are there any judges in the room? No? Okay, here are the teams..." Following the number reading, he asked all the coaches to stay after for a short meeting. That meeting was to tell all the coaches that they must judge, otherwise the competition might have to be cancelled.

WAIT A SECOND. Fuckwad made sure all the judges were out of the room before he read the numbers? But then decided to tell all the coaches that they needed to be judges? No Fuckwad, the room was not empty of judges, there were about as many judges as there are teams and you fail at life. I'm really dumbfounded at how McTard didn't realize that he was reciting team numbers to a group of people he was going subsequently ask to judge. Way to keep up that confidentiality asswipe.

I don't know man, I'm drinking some black velvet on the rocks right now. It tastes okay, I'll stop bitching now.