School mistakes huge burrito for weapon

The end of law school

My very last class of all of law school ended yesterday at 3:45 p.m. My friend turned to me and said, "So this is it, huh?"

Holy fucking shit. This is it.

Just trying to coordinate bar applications and potential future jobs has left me so preoccupied that I haven't taken the time to reflect on all of this. Out of habit and moving time and time again in my military childhood, I've always looked forward without ever taking much time to close the last chapter. It's easier to just barrel ahead and focus energy on what's new than it is to... I don't know. Is mourn the right word? I'm glad law school is over, but I'm sad to leave this community of people.

The best parts of my day, every day, are the spontaneous conversations that develop just from occupying the same space with several hundred people in this law school, day in and day out. Soon enough, I won't recognize faces at the grocery store. It won't take me 45 minutes to get from my desk to the bathroom anymore, because no one will stop to talk to me on the way. Never again will I shuffle into a classroom with dozens of other people, catching up on last night's gossip while the computer boots up, moaning about the workload or the boredom. I won't encounter people on my walk to and from school, or to and from the coffee shop, to stop and chat with.

So this is it.

I have two weeks in which to write two papers and study for an exam, and every moment of it, I'm going to wonder how much I'll regret that it's a moment not spent with the friends who will soon drive out of here for the last time.

I am not the person I was three years ago, and I only wish I had done a better job of chronicling my own life changes. I'm more confident in some ways, less confident in others. I'm more motivated to pursue my own path. I'm more comfortable in my abilities to connect with people and create comfortable social networks. I'm no closer to figuring out my life's path than I was when I arrived in August 2002.

I can't help but be really damned proud of myself for ending up here. Here with these friends, these experiences, these skills, and these memories.

Hey there, how's it going? What class are you going to? Can you even believe that the OC was cancelled last night in favor of Social Security? Ugh, I know, right? Yeah, softball was SO MUCH FUN last night. Wish you were there. And then we played Trivial Pursuit, and our team kept getting questions about Canadians. Fuck Canadians, man. You have four exams? Shit, that sucks. Yeah, I'll definitely see you at the BBQ! Bring your glove. I have to go write this stupid friggin paper now. It was great to run into you. You know something? I'm really going to miss seeing you around.

Exploding Toads Puzzle Scientists
More than 1,000 toads have puffed up and exploded in a Hamburg pond in recent weeks, and German scientists have no explanation for what's causing the combustion.

1Ls are fucking crazy.

You have the textbook, the 200 page study guide by the textbook's author, but now you've decided that YOU CANNOT REST until you have the commercial outline by the textbook's author?

You will resort to already jealously commenting on journals and moot court, who will do well, who will not, and how everyone else will end up in the 6th layer of hell for not being EIC of at least one law review.

You are going to surround me, an unwitting and mildly hungover 3L in the library, as I am madly trying to dash off a response paper so that I can spend the next 10 days furiously struggling with writing a 30 page paper. After surrounding me, you will then proceed to talk in an outside voice about what firms you will be applying to. You will speak of these firms in regards to practice areas, their size, what they are known for. You will mispronounce just about every name on the list. You will say that this firm is a large presence in the San Francisco area, but I know they have an office of 7 attorneys. You will oooh and aaaah over what top 3 law school one must go to in order to get an offer from THAT firm. You will continue to mispronounce the names.

You are going to pick your 2L summer job interviews excitedly, like you were looking through brochures of a vacation package, instead of steeling yourself for the commitment you're about to make, a commitment that you might not have been willing to make before, but maybe you are now, because it pays so much money. And really, after that, you can GO ANYWHERE and DO ANYTHING. (P.S. That's a lie. Trust me.)

And here I am, in the library, sadly and unenthusiastically wrapping up my last few weeks of class by just trying to squeeze through, and I can't believe that I was once a 1L too.

Thank God I've recovered.

Not Guilty directed my attention to an interesting article in the Baltimore City Paper, highlighting the fact that juveniles without parents are locked up more often and longer than children with homes.

Last night

Last night I discovered that Woman of the Law is not anonymous to several of her peers.

Last night I was drunk by 5:30 p.m.

Last night I had a dream that I was trying to avoid a snake, and someone kept trying to get the snake to go after me and the people I was with. I ran away and ducked behind a chair. A cat was hiding under the chair too. Something was said to me, or by me, about snakebites, and how "it all depends on your state of mind" when the snake suddenly reappeared. As I was about to dash away, I grabbed the cat's front paws to whisk it away with me, and the snake sunk its fangs into the cat's back legs. I was very unhappy. Suddenly the snake bit me in the ass. It didn't hurt, but I wondered if I would die. Then I said, "Well, if Cameron Diaz can survive it, I can too. But would they give that shot to the cat to survive?" I decided the cat probably would not get that shot.

Apparently snakes indicate betrayal from someone that you least expect.

Baseball loyalties

I'm a Red Sox fan, but I adore the Orioles. The Red Sox are my hometown team, and besides, they were the underdogs for 86 years. Then last year, the unthinkable happened. The Earth moved, ends of movies had to be reshot, old people clinging to life in hopes of a World Series victory let go. And I, well, I came out as a closeted Orioles fan. I have seen more games at Camden Yards (3) than I have at Fenway (1). Today, I am utterly conflicted over whom I should be rooting for tonight when the Sox play the O's. The O's are totally carrying my fantasy baseball team. No one cares about the O's - they will never finish first or second in the AL East, they lost their DC market this year, etc. The Red Sox, for me, have started to lose their allure. I think the team that lost to the Yankees in Game 7 of the ALCS in 2003 was THE TEAM to win it all. And they didn't. And a small part of me died. Boston is still my team, and a great team. Where's the Boston magic though? Where's that tingly feeling? Did it leave with Nomar? Pedro? D.Lowe? The Curse? Maybe, just maybe, I'm one of those people who doesn't know what to do now that the Sox aren't the underdogs. So I'm rooting for the Red Sox to play the O's in the ALCS this year. The O's have gotten off to a great start and I want them to make it a great season. They will carry me to fantasy league victory.

However, I have been admonished time and time again that I cannot, under any circumstances, root for another team in the same division as MY team. I should pick an NL team, or at least a different AL division. I've been tormented on this issue relentlessly. To all you naysayers, I say: BLOW ME. I can root for as many goddamn people as I want. I can love the underdogs if I want to. I want to be a PUBLIC DEFENDER for TEENAGERS for the love of Christ. It doesn't get any more underdog than that.

And besides, when David Wells is pitching, it's really really easy to root for the Orioles. I don't like David Wells. And you will all rue the day that someone announces that Wade Miller is off the DL, Wells will stay in the starting lineup, and Wakefield or Arroyo (most likely, Arroyo) gets bumped from the starting lineup. When that is announced, I will walk around in a perpetually pissed off state.

I'm all fired up this morning

Florida gun law to expand self-defense
It is either a Wild West revival, a return to the days of "shoot first and ask questions later," or a triumph for the "Castle Doctrine" -- the notion that enemies invade personal space at their peril.

Such dueling rhetoric marked the debate over a measure that Florida Gov. Jeb Bush (R) could sign as early as Tuesday. The legislation passed so emphatically that National Rifle Association backers plan to take it to statehouses across the nation, including Virginia's, over the next year. The law will let Floridians "meet force with force," erasing the "duty to retreat" when they fear for their lives outside of their homes, in their cars or businesses, or on the street.

NRA Executive Vice President Wayne LaPierre said in an interview that the Florida measure is the "first step of a multi-state strategy" that he hopes can capitalize on a political climate dominated by conservative opponents of gun control at the state and national levels.

Woman held illegally at St. Elizabeth's
A homeless Haitian immigrant who speaks little English was illegally held at St. Elizabeths Hospital for nearly three months despite a ruling that she be treated as an outpatient, according to an emergency motion filed by her attorney.
I never saw myself as the type to get into prisoners' legal services or mental health services, but the more I learn about it, the more it draws me in. I'm sold on it now. This article is about a woman who was ordered released from St. E's. When she was released, the staff called the police who arrived, arrested her, and placed her right back at St. E's. I like this line: The assessment that her client suffers from delusions of persecution, Davis said, "fails to take into account" how she was handled by St. Elizabeths last Tuesday. I'm probably the only person in the world who feels bad for John Hinkley, who is also at St. E's. He was crazy when he shot Reagan, was found not guilty by reason of insanity, and has been held at St. E's under the guise of his dangerousness to the community. It's my understanding that no one who is treating him believes that he is still a danger. But he will never, ever be released from 'treatment.' There are so many people who are locked up for 'mental health treatment' who are really experiencing nothing more than prison. Or what prison would look like if it offered any sort of rehabilitation.

A Maryland Mother's Regret Spurs Painstaking Legal Fight
The case has burrowed its way into Ettinger's psyche. He believes he has what many lawyers consider their greatest burden: an innocent client and no way to prove it.

City judge to enforce timely jail hearings Over the past couple of days, the Maryland Public Defender has secured the release of individuals who have been held for days for charges that won't even be prosecuted. The State's Attorneys are worried that there's a chance that someone who shouldn't be released will be released under the 24-hr order. I know that I'm meant to be a defense attorney because I'm appalled that there are innocent people lingering in jail for days without so much as a hearing.

Best spam subject line:

"I poured spot remover on my dog. Now he's gone."

Broken Digits.

I'm missing a finger. Well, I didn't lose it so much as a broke it. Ok, maybe I didn't break it, but I definitely fractured it. I at least bruised it. How did I incur this life-threatening injury? Not by trying to run super fast to impress a hot young stud. Not by saving a baby from a burning building. Not by pulling an A-Rod. Not by tackling Vin Diesel to prevent him from trying to act again. No. I punched the treadmill. Which would have been appropriate given the fact that I saw my Treadmill Nemesis this morning (the woman who yelled at me and tried to call me out after she stole my treadmill several Mondays ago). But that's not why I punched the treadmill. Nope, I was running along, left right, left right, and ran a little too close to the pulse-taking bar. I punched right into it. It really hurts, man.

I've fractured/broken a digit before. Last summer, I jumped into the pool and as I hit the water, I felt a piercing/throbbing pain in my big toe. My toe never touched anything, as I remember it. But it hurt like a mofo, turned all sorts of colors, and swelled up real nice. That didn't stop me from running on it and from wearing incredibly painful heeled boots every day. I just popped a lot of painkillers. There's a lot of scar tissue in my toe now, or so I've been told. After a month of pain, I finally called University Health Services. They couldn't diagnose it without seeing me, but then the woman on the phone kept trying to diagnose me nonetheless. I told her that my understanding was that nothing could be done for a broken toe, so why should I bother to do anything about it? She told me to stay off it, ice it, get it checked out at the hospital, don't get it checked out, you can run on it, you can't run on it, all in the same phone conversation.

So the question is, for how long do I allow the pain and discoloration go on in my pinkie finger before I seek the treatment of the fools who didn't know what to do with a broken toe? I'll give it a few weeks.

US prison population soars in 2003, 2004.

According to the Justice Policy Institute, which advocates a more lenient system of punishment, the United States has a higher rate of incarceration than any other country, followed by Britain, China, France, Japan and Nigeria.

There were 726 inmates for every 100,000 U.S. residents by June 30, 2004, compared with 716 a year earlier, according to the report by the Justice Department agency. In 2004, one in every 138 U.S. residents was in prison or jail; the previous year it was one in every 140.

In 2004, 61 percent of prison and jail inmates were of racial or ethnic minorities, the government said. An estimated 12.6 percent of all black men in their late 20s were in jails or prisons, as were 3.6 percent of Hispanic men and 1.7 percent of white men in that age group, the report said.

Other findings include:

_State prisons held about 2,500 youths under 18 in 2004. That compares with a peak, in 1995, of about 5,300. Local jails held about 7,000 youths, down from 7,800 in 1995.

HOW COULD YOU LET ME COME TO THE LIBRARY WITHOUT MY HEADPHONES? Clearly this will be a short working day.

I'll forgive you this once, and offer you a chuckle for your day:
Papal Election Brings End to Worldwide Unsupervised Catholic Sin Binge

"As they recited the Apostles' Creed, I remember thinking of all the things I want to do, but don't because of my devotion to the Church," said Antonio Valez, a Catholic from Mexico City. "As soon as I heard the pope was laid to rest, I said a prayer for the Holy Father's departed soul and went straight out and bought a box of condoms. Actually, I'm wearing one right now. It's been on all day and I'm loving it."

Carl Whitestone, an 82-year-old lifelong Catholic from Beaver Dam, WI said he experienced a similar sense of freedom.

"When I heard the pope was dead, the first thing I thought about, besides how much the great man will be missed, was the big bloody steak I was going to eat on Friday," said Whitestone. "When the pope was alive, I never would've thought of flouting the 1917 Pio-Benedictine Code Of Canon Law. But once he was out of the picture, I immediately bore false witness against my neighbor. And then I coveted his wife."

Recipe: Salmon

'Womanofthelaw Goes to the Kitchen' presents the recipe for Lemon Butter Dill Salmon:
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. I think.
2. Take salmon out of fancy fish paper. Place in dish.
3. Cover with Lemon Butter Dill fish dressing from bottle.
4. Cook 10-15 minutes.

Lest you think this looks like a no-prep meal, let me assure you there was preparation. It began this morning when I finished my workout and stepped on the scale at the gym. I've been shaving a few minutes off my workouts since things have been hectic the past few weeks, and have also missed a few days. Also, I lost my trusty Nalgene bottle and had pretty much stopped drinking water. This week, however, I had gotten back on track with water and workouts and so when I stepped on the scale, I was surprised to learn that I had gained 64 ounces. Now, we all know that weight fluctuates, la dee da, but I was not happy. Weight should be going DOWN goddamnit, I don't haul my ass out of bed at 6 am because it's fun.

What kind of healthy meals can I prepare for myself this week? I've slowly been experimenting with fish. I've avoided eating fish since my youth, but I've recently discovered that I love asparagus and fresh brussel sprouts, so why not give fish a try? I generally leave fish to the restaurants, but I figured now's as good a time as any to try cooking some myself. Besides, the cook's corner at the grocery store made a mini-meal with salmon and it was SO DAMNED GOOD. So I circled around the fish counter with my cart (filled with toiletries: 3 face washes, eye makeup remover, soap, toothpaste, razors) and finally marched up to the expansive display case. A nice man asked if he could help me, and I confessed it all. I've never cooked fish for myself before. I'm taking it slow. I want salmon. Like a good fish coach, he told me to start with baking it in the oven. Soothingly, authoritatively, he introduced me to the lemon butter dill bottle. He handed it to me, told me to put it on the salmon, and bake the salmon at 375 degrees for 10-15 minutes.

"What other kind of fish do you like?"
"Um, well, I know I like tuna steaks. Cooked by other people."
"Next time you come back, we'll try something else. You can blah blah cod blah blah haddock blah blah swordfish blah blah grill, it's really easy."

He said other fish names that I don't remember now, but I enjoyed making a fish friend.

My critique of the 'recipe':
- I hate dill. Unless it's a pickle. In which case I can pretty much eat a whole jar. See, e.g., last weekend; cf. aforementioned 64 ounce weight gain.
- Um, it was good at first. Not GREAT, but fine. Then I didn't want anymore. I will probably not make it again. I think I need a different taste.
- Idiot-proof? Yes. I think. So far. If I come down with rickets or botulism (ok, ok, food poisoning) then this recipe will be retracted.

Time for *cough* Joan of Arcadia *cough*. Shut up. If you can't preparty with God, who can you preparty with?

skittish, still.

This blog stopped being fun and witty a long time ago (if it ever was). But hey, I'm graduating from law school with cranial mortgage and don't have a definite job yet. Cut me some slack, jerk.

Every day, I get one step closer to making a commitment I'm not sure I want to make. I'm trying to hedge my bets, but bar review courses and bar associations won't let me. They demand more commitment, like this is some sort of needy intimate relationship. I tried to say, "You know I love ya, baby. It'll be ok. I just need some time. It's not you, it's me." This falls on deaf ears. Every time I have to fill out another form, attend another meeting, sign another sheet, or pay another bill, I get freaked out. I'm not ready to make a decision. But I hate feeling like there is no decision to be made - that I'm just going to get swept up in the current of least resistance and suddenly find myself somewhere I didn't want to be. There are only two possibilities, and they're both good. I'd feel better about it if I had the opportunity to make a decision instead of just waiting for things to fall into place, one way or another.

And my fantasy baseball team seems incapable of pitching. What the fuck?

Tom DeLay is the devil's handmaiden. Discuss.

Rice to Russia: You suck.

Rice says Putin has too much power. Apparently, being Secretary of State (that is, of the United States) means that you then go around and decide which countries' governments you like, and which ones you don't like. I will accept that Condi, in her position, may, and maybe should, evaluate the status of democracy in other countries. But sister, if we want to talk about executive power, let's start at home before we go around 'bringing democracy' and by democracy I mean war and imperialism, to other countries, yes? Let's start by not secretly imprisoning people for fun and then denying them all redress. That's not very democratic, now is it?

Dahlia on Moussaoui's potential guilty plea. "Somehow, even if he's the wrong guy being executed for the wrong conspiracy, this case will prove to the world that the American court system really works."

Washington Post article on Blake, the Miranda case out of Maryland. It is my belief that if the Supreme Court chips off the rule of Edwards, then Miranda will be the equivalent of the 'voluntariness' standard, which O'Connor espouses.

Today's news

Police officer killed while interviewing suspect. The suspect grabbed the officer's pistol and shot him with it. The picture of the suspect in the article is incredibly disturbing. It looks like he was beaten pretty badly.

From the Baltimore Sun:
Fire halts services needed by teens
Handling of inmate defended by state What's interesting about this article is that apparently, staff must preserve evidence if an inmate is pronounced dead in prison. But if the staff treat the inmate as though he were not dead, and he is pronounced dead upon arrival, staff have no duty to preserve evidence in regards to the circumstances of the inmate's death.

And what I think will be a fascinating case:
High Court to hear Miranda case. I wrote about this law a few months ago that forces prosecutors to gamble on interlocutory appeals - if they lose, the whole case gets thrown out. The prosecutors in this case appealed the suppression of the accused's statement and lost, so the case was dismissed. Since then, the MD legislature has changed the law so that it does not apply in homicide cases. I wonder if and how it will change after this.

And finally, last night was nightmare-free and included margaritas, Thai take-out, and celebrity gossip, which is truly the cure for everything.

Dear Self: What are you so afraid of?

Despite the fact that trial ad ended some time ago with the completion of my full-day trial, I am having dreams/nightmares about the trial every night. Last night, I recited most of my actual closing argument IN MY DREAM. I'm experiencing significant anxiety over my trial skills, more now than I ever did BEFORE the trial. As a matter of fact, my anxiety has increased enough that I'm wondering whether I chose the correct profession, which in 3 years of law school I've never questioned. Kinda messed up, no?

Now, no matter where I am or what I'm doing, I have this overwhelming feeling to bolt. Somewhere, anywhere. How am I dealing with stress? Well, I originally had cancelled plans to attend a baseball game this Thursday, figuring I should be here with my dear friends for the last weekend of my law school experience. I am currently re-examining this plan. I figure that I can leave here Thursday, make the road trip by myself if it comes to that, buy a ticket when I arrive, watch the game by myself if I have to, stay with a friend that night, and drive back on Friday or Saturday. I truly can't think of anything else that will settle my nerves.

Maybe I just won't come back.

The other thing I've now decided to do is to plan myself a post-graduation, pre-bar-review whitewater rafting trip in West Virginia. Never in my life have I: 1. been whitewater rafting or 2. set foot in, come near, or even considered setting foot in West Virginia. But I heard they have good rafting. So there it is.

Maybe doing all these things on my own will be helpful and introspective. Or maybe it'll just be lonely. Chances are, I'll just sit on my ass, eat Thai food, and booze it up until I forget why it is I feel like clawing at my own skin and/or sprinting far, far away.

Ain't no love like sistahlove.

If I merely chronicled my escapades without assuming the title of "Woman of the Law" I suspect that someone could mistake me for a male. Yesterday, I came home from a long day around 5 pm, put on jeans and a t-shirt, sprawled out in a lawn chair in front of my house to soak up the last bits of sunshine, all while drinking a beer and reading this month's Maxim. Later that night, we had our 2005 inaugural BBQ, during which I spent a significant amount of time discussing baseball. Today, I washed my car and then returned home to my lawn to finish reading my Maxim. I need to start acting more like a girl.

Law school prom was recently, and in the vein of acting more like a girl, I wore a killer dress, if I do say so myself. However, it required a bra constructed of several pounds of steel. It was still relatively unsuccessful, as the bra didn't fit quite right. The dress still looked pretty darned good. Never in my life have I ever been forced to do what I did that night - I stuffed my bra. To understand why this is odd, you need to know that my ... cups runneth over. Into the fourth letter of the alphabet. On the way home, I took out the socks ( - wretched and useless. I'm a novice at this stuffing thing). The next morning, when I went out to my car, I noticed my socks in the middle of the road. With tire marks over them. It was amusing, seeing what I had tried to pass as breasts the night before, in the middle of the road, with tire marks on them.

Today, in my attempt to be a girl, I did NOT watch baseball. Instead, with three incredible, witty, smart, warm, beautiful women, I went to brunch, then for a long nature walk, then for coffee, and back home again. I wore hoop earrings and a cute shirt, jeans, and some flip flops. I even put on eyeshadow. [I'm not sure who I'm trying to fool here.] Then I took Lilith (the car) to the carwash and encountered the Horrific Foam Brush from Hell, which relentlessly spewed bright pink soap suds all over the place, including all over said cute top, which now has pink splatters on it. Fuck. After that, I came back home to sit on my lawn and read Maxim. Old habits die hard.

Most of my friends are guys. This is for two reasons: 1. Affirmatively developing friendships with men eliminates any fear of romantic rejection. Because we all know once you're in the friend box, guys keep you there forever. (It's a pre-emptive control tactic. Emotionally risk free). And more importantly 2. [Most] guys are not nearly as bitchy, judgmental, and harsh to women as women are to each other.

I have developed more female friendships in law school than at any other point in my life, and I have to say that I am absolutely blessed to know the women that I know. I'm friendly with the "it" girls in the law school. But it's not often that you'll catch me at the bars, drinking mixed drinks, wearing a hootchie top, exposing a thong, and having an inch of makeup smeared on my face. It happens occasionally, but I'd rather do what I did last night - have friends over, BBQ, mix crowds, drink beer, play some tunes, throw around the football and baseball. I do flirt with men, and I do wear tops that might flatter my, ahem, features. (My flirting is subtle - like last night, I crushed on a guy over fantasy baseball - I knew it was meant to be when, after he helped me with my team, he said shyly, "Want to see my team?" and we noticed that our teams have about 1/3 of our players in common. Beautiful green eyes. Yum).

I don't stick around the bitchy girls, who climb over each other for the affections of men, who put their own dignity and self-worth at risk from time to time because they value themselves in regards to how semi-hot drunk men value them. I'm really, really lucky to have my girlz, my sistahs, who don't need none of that bullshit neither. Today's sistahlove bonding session reminded me of how lucky I really am.

Sistahlove holla to THL, who I hope has better luck with the sistahlove in the future.

Last night.

Last night I had a dream that I was denied my fellowship in the first rounds - I wasn't even invited to submit a full proposal. I was disappointed, but relieved, because then I knew that I'd be taking the other job. In my dream, all of these other things indicated to me that this was the right choice. Later on in my dream, though, 3 of my friends killed themselves. So hopefully not all dreams come true.

Gary Sheffield did not get punched. It was clear that the fan was trying to cheer and pound on the side of the stands like all the other fans were doing. He didn't hit Sheffield at all, nor does it look like the fan was even TRYING to hit Sheffield. He wasn't even looking at him. I think it's ridiculous that Sheffield is being commended for keeping his cool, which apparently involved LOSING HIS SHIT and punching the fan back. Yeah, really commendable. And Sheffield himself can't even say that he got hit! He's going to need a better attorney because the, "I felt like something hit my face, so I wiped away my lip to make it look like I got hit" story just doesn't cut it, my friend.

Apparently A-Rod saved a boy from being hit by a truck (but only because the kid was a Yankees fan) which almost makes up for the fact that he ain't done shit by way of fielding since he came to the Yankees.

Slate goes to Fenway. Sorry Seth, but I have it from another Sox journalist that Mark Bellhorn is the stupidest Red Sox player - not Johnny Damon. This journalist also said that Pedro is not only known around the clubhouse for his big words, but also his big...yeah. Scandalous.

Thoughts

1. I take a deep breath, dive under, swim as fast as I can underwater until I get to the end, then I come up gasping for air, and then the next assigment that's due immediately comes along, so I dive under and do it all over again. It seems that I'm in capable of swimming leisurely.

2. True or False: Doug Mirabelli is underrated on offense? True. He seems to hit an uncanny number of HRs for the actual number of games he gets to play.

3. Tim Wakefield is always my favorite. ALWAYS.

4. The Hot Librarian wrote about the Hip Dips - the hottest part of a man's body. Oh yeah ladies, we all know that part. I get all tingly just thinking about it. Nibble nibble.

5. The 'deep breath' that I'll be taking this Saturday night - Monday morning should result in my lungs filling with tequila. If all goes well.

6. I'm considering leaving this one to a vote: which state bar should I take? Your options are A) The state in which I am currently living and in which I have an unofficial job offer, B) The state in which I have applied for a grant to start my own little job with the public defender, which, if awarded, would not be awarded until July or August but would be my dream job, or C) State A plus another state, State C, where I was this fall, not because I particularly want to work there but because hey, why the fuck not? or D) State B plus State C.

State C is sort of a safety - I think it's more likely that they have a rolling hiring schedule so if I'm shit out of luck next fall with a job, I can always live with mom and wait around for them.

Baltimore police using psychological warfare modeled after military tactics

Fever Pitch: A Supplemental Review

Blondie reviewed Fever Pitch last week, but you can't trust anything that a Yankees fan writes. I saw the movie tonight and LOVED IT.

It was like that movie told my story. You know, single, too busy for love, really rich and successfully employed and living in the Back Bay... whoops, I mean, poor but having a job that I love and season tix behind the batter...well maybe not that either. But I DID TOTALLY MISS THE MOST IMPORTANT GAME IN RED SOX HISTORY. I was away for a job interview and had I known that NOTHING WOULD PAN OUT I would have fuckin' skipped it and gone to Fenway, come hell or high water. Friends called my dying, battery charger-less cellphone, yelling, "Woohoo!! We're in Kenmore Square! And we're getting TEAR GASSED!!! WOOOOOOO!" While I sat, alone, without clothing, suits, face wash, or a clean pair of underwear - having missed the game in which the Red Sox won the World Series for the first time since 1918. And to make matters worse, I missed the entire weekend of post-World Series victory parties. I should have been there.

When the Sox played the Yankees on Opening Day, there was a special on ESPN2 right before it that showed the Sox's path to victory. I might have shed a tear or two into my beer. I might called a friend to discuss Red Sox Love like only a Sox fan understands. But that special was the first time that I actually really and truly saw the entire last part of Game 3 against St. Louis.

I digress. The other reason why I loved Fever Pitch so much is because... who DOESN'T want to have Jimmy Fallon's babies after that movie? Hmmmm? I thought Drew and Jimmy had excellent romantic-comedy chemistry. Sigh. It was beautiful. If I can find a man like that, I will die a happy, happy woman.

Baseball gives me a reason to live.

Finally, when I wake up in the morning, I'm not counting down the minutes until I can go back to bed that night. I love scooting downstairs to drink coffee and read ESPN, Yahoo Sports, check out some MLB websites, local newspapers. I can watch SportsCenter and not care if it sucks, because at least it shows !baseball! Let's talk about how the Orioles handed the Yankees their ass - go O's! That should answer Not Guilty's question.

Last night I had a dream that I was making out in front of a bunch of guys... with a Pamela Anderson look-alike. (!) Imagine my surprise. I blame cable television for this. We were then broken up by an impromptu party - everyone from the law school showed up. Suddenly, someone shushed the entire crowd and everyone commenced watching Star Wars. (ugh). Again, I blame cable television for this.

Death sentence upheld for Starr's death row client.
From reading this article, it seems as though the Fourth Circuit has managed to botch another capital case. The Fourth Circuit and the Fifth Circuit have this bizarre reasoning in regards to child abuse that goes something like this: Yes it is a mitigating factor. Yes that means the defendant has a Constitutional right to present it, and not presenting it is prejudicial. But if the jury knew how badly he was beaten and starved as a child, they'd just want to put him to death. Therefore, the decision not to present that evidence is strategic. In light of Williams v. Taylor (2000) and Wiggins v. Smith (2003), the Fourth Circuit is dead wrong. No pun intended. In those cases, the Supreme Court bent over backwards to reverse on the failure to present child abuse evidence on a Sixth Amendment ineffective assistance of counsel claim. The attorneys knew about the defendant's abuse, didn't present the evidence or presented it briefly, and the Court still found a Sixth Amendment violation. To say I'm not a fan of Ken Starr would be an understatement, but I hope this client is heard, by the Supreme Court or otherwise.
Also, all DNA evidence was destroyed in this case preventing post-conviction testing. That's inexcusable. He was convicted in 1999, DNA evidence wasn't unheard of. Additionally, since when are court clerks all up on cleaning things up around the courthouse? Evidence and files sit around for decades gathering dust. Except, apparently, when the state wants to kill a man.

Virginia is a lethal state. They do love their capital punishment.

worst joke ever

Text msg me that Tito is dead.

OR prosecutor offers sex offenders a home.

Dahlia, oh Dahlia...

Needles and Threats: More tough talk about pulverizing the judiciary.

I mock 6th Amendment jurisprudence

I drank for four hours and am now producing motions for mock trial. My client is on his way to a federal pound-me-in-the-ass prison. (I'm an incredibly highly functioning drunk, I'm sure he'll be fine.)

rampant sexism

I just had two guys telling me that today's game is only a spring training game. I said, no it's a regular season game. "No, it's only April 5th. It's spring training," they insisted. To which I said, "No way man. Opening Day was Sunday." And one of them replied, "No, that was opening day of SPRING TRAINING." Bitch, you callin' me a liar? I might be a girl, but I know the difference between spring training and the regular season. Don't hate.

It has handles? I might like where this is going

Slate explainer describes a prisoner body wrap (the ultimate immobilization system). "The Wrap consists of a shoulder harness, a binding for the ankles, and a blanket with straps that encircles and restrains the legs. The harness and the ankle strap attach to loops on the blanket with carabiners, which helps to keep captives from moving."

In other news, Two teens get 14 years for shooting, crippling teen.

Decisions, decisions...

It is beauuuuuutiful outside today.

There is a baseball game at 1:05 p.m.
I have Tax (pass/fail) at 2:30 pm.
Happy hour starts at 5 p.m., but I intend to be there a little early.

Do I go to tax? If not, then why the fuck did I come to school today?

Murder Incorporated: The Accused is Dead Serious About His Quirky Defense

Do you think that Thomas is really psyched about tax, or bankruptcy? Or do you think that Rehnquist assigns these cases to Thomas because Rehnquist doesn't care for Thomas's approach to law?

Harvard librarian loses discrimination lawsuit

Welcome to the Monkey House

So after the Great Fellowship Debacle of 2005, which is still in its beginning stages, that unofficial offer is looking pretty damned good so far. I could totally do it. I mean, 3 years is nothing. I lost 3 years of my life to law school, what's another 3 years? I'm guaranteed a job that I love, in a city with friends that I love. The worst case scenario is that I don't fall in love with the city, but I can't imagine how I wouldn't enjoy living there for a few years. The dating scene has got to be better than this one. I could take the subway instead of using my car, I could go to baseball games, I could go to museums. You know, all the trappings of a real city. It would be so much easier to take that path.

But if there's anything that you have all noticed, it's that I seem incapable of making anything simple.

If I had a sexy typepad blog instead of blogspot, I'd totally create a category of postings explicitly designed for job search stuff. WHAT THEY DON'T TELL YOU ABOUT PUBLIC INTEREST JOBS, PARTICULARLY PUBLIC DEFENDER JOBS. That will be the subject of a post all its own.

Springtime

Womanofthelaw is looking for the affection of a good man.

And is thoroughly disappointed by the lousy showing the Sox made last night. But did you notice that Damon and Millar have highlights? Mmmhmm. Perhaps that's the deal they made with Queer Eye - can't cut the hair, but can color it? Perhaps the ammonia went to their heads.

untitled

Inmate denied medical care that resulted in his death

Maryland is not looking particularly competent in the field of incarceration these days.

I've always been attracted to the bad-boy types

One thing I will miss about academia are the random and unexpected learning opportunities that arise. You can guarantee that at any given point on a college campus, there is someone talking about something that very few other people care about. Of course, I'm always chained to my work in the dark bowels of the law school, so I never went to see the special art exhibit, or the talk on Colombian rebels, or other things that did actually interest me. It's great to be able to walk through the halls, see a table full of food outside the lecture hall, and know that I can either be fed or educated or both on just about any given day.

I have had the opportunity to see a few well-known and interesting speakers recently. If I printed their names here, you would recognize them. When I was getting ready for school one morning, I remembered that I was going to be attending a lunch for a speaker, so I decided against the sweatpants and opted for a nice shirt, jeans, some jewelry, and even some makeup. As I was carefully applying my selected eyeshadow, I chastised myself for almost walking into this lunch looking like a disrespectful fool. Then I chuckled to myself, thinking, I wonder what the world would think about the fact that I'm putting on makeup out of respect for a convicted murderer?

consider it done

Too bad it's goig to rain tomorrow

Horoscope:
It's April Fools' Day, and any distraction from what you've been dealing with will be welcome at this point. You've been trying to make a decision -- a very serious decision -- and it's been keeping you up. It's ruining your ordinarily sunny disposition, too, which is far worse than any lack of sleep, in your book. Don't let it get to you. Get in on the fun.