Smart Ass

I'm sitting in a meeting first thing this morning with eight other people. There was only one topic on the agenda, and it could have been covered in five minutes. But because 80% of the population has a genetic deficiency where they make things much harder than they have to be, the meeting stretched into it's 20th minutes with no end in sight.

Then, instead of resolving the god damn meeting, the manager asked what everyone did over the weekend. One guy volunteered that he went to a Renaissance Festival. Unfortunately, the manager is also a dork and had to ask about the Renaissance Festival. The guy who went was all too glad to tell him about. He told us all about the food, and the games, and the people in period costumes, before getting to the joust. "It was neat, but it went on longer than it had to," he said. "They did in thirty minutes what they could have done in ten."

"Sounds like this meeting," I retorted. The manager did not appreciate my remark.

Sage Advice

A while back, I did a post about a guy at my office who wanted nothing more in life than to receive a promotion. At the time, I figured he would become my nemesis and I would torment him with a variety of schemes and pranks. Well, as it turns out, a couple weeks after I made that post, he told everyone he got a promotion and moved to a different department.

His move was not a promotion. It was, at best, a lateral move to a position with a slightly more impressive title. My boss told me in confidence that this guy decided to forgo a scheduled pay raise in exchange for the new job, and that the new job paid him the exact same salary as his old one. So in essence, he took a pay cut to look slightly more important than he already was. (Note: He was not, nor is he now, at all important to the company.)

Anyway, because of his move to a different department and my general surliness at work towards people I don't like, I hadn't spoken to this guy since about March; that is, until this past Thursday when he cornered me while I was buying a Diet Mountain Dew from the vending machine.

"Hey Mike, do you have a minute," he asked me, timidly.

"Sure, what's up?" I asked in a disinterested tone.

"You went to law school, right?" He was still acting very timid.

I sighed. "Yeah."

He perked up. "I thought so. The reason I ask is because I am seriously considering applying to law school."

Now I perked up. A few years back, I made it my mission to dissuade anyone and everyone who wanted to go to law school from going. I was in the midst of my own private hell and the altruistic part of me wanted to keep other people from going through the same thing. If someone asked me about it, I would cite evidence both empirical and anecdotal about why it is usually a bad idea. I would take them down the road of examining their own reasons for wanting to go, and then use those reasons against them to show why it was a foolish choice. I would present logical argument after logical argument as to why they were not making a wise decision. But, I was mostly unsuccessful. As I noted in this post, the undefined quality that drives a person to want to go to law school is the same mechanism that makes them believe that they will be the exception to the rule.

Thus, I stopped trying to talk people out of it. If someone expressed interest, I asked them why. Back in my Barely Legal days, Russ and I did a list of bad reasons for going to law school. (You can find links to all of them here.) After typically hearing one of the bad reasons, I would simply recommend that they work for an attorney first, as a paralegal, so they could make sure they actually wanted to be an attorney. They would usually humor me and say it's a good idea, and disregard the advice. Those people deserve whatever comes their way.

Back to the guy from my office. We took a seat at one of the tables in the break room and told me he is looking for a challenge. I warned him of the tight job market and high cost of student loans. Then I asked him why he wanted to go to law school. "Well, for one, I want to make a lot of money," he told me. (Bad Reason for Going to Law School #8)

"Plus," he said, "I've been working here for a while and I am sick of it. There is no real opportunity for growth and I want to get out of the corporate world and move into something less less cutthroat. (Bad Reasons for Going to Law School #9 and #3) He looked at me for a response. "I see. Is that it?"

"Well, I won't lie, I've always dreamed of going to law school. It's a lot more impressive than what I do now," he said.

"The prestige factor?"

"Yeah, definitely." (Bad Reason for Going to Law School #4) Then he mentioned my favorite bad reason. "Plus, I've always been argumentative so I think it will be a good fit. (Bad Reason for Going to Law School #10). "So what do you think?"

"I really should try to set him straight," I thought. "I should fill him in on the facts, to point out all of the bad reasons he just stated, to save him from himself." Then I looked at him in his shirt and tie at my casual-dress office, his face full of enthusiasm and blind ambition, completely oblivious to the reality that lies ahead of him.

"I think you'll do great," I told him.

Signs of a Bad Marriage

This morning, when I arrived at work, Loud Guy was waiting for me. He badly wants to be my friend, even though I can't stand him. I was in a pissy mood yesterday so I didn't talk to him. Determined to get back on my good side (on which he never has been, by the way), he found me as soon as I walked in.

Loud Guy: HEY, I DIDN'T TALK TO YOU YESTERDAY. HOW WAS YOUR WEEKEND?

Me: It was fine, I didn't do much besides lay around and watch football.

LG: I BET YOUR WIFE WASN'T TOO HAPPY ABOUT THAT.

Me: Well, she had to work so she wasn't around too much, but if she had been home she would have watched with me. She likes football.

LG: NO WAY! MY WIFE HATES IT. SHE ONLY LETS ME WATCH ONE GAME PER WEEK.

Me: How does she only "let" you watch one game per week? How did that exact rule come to be?

LG: WELL, NOT LONG AFTER WE GOT MARRIED SHE WAS MAD BECAUSE I WATCHED FOOTBALL ALL DAY. WE GOT INTO A FIGHT AND SHE SAID, "FROM HERE ON OUT, YOU ONLY GET TO WATCH ONE GAME PER WEEK."

Me: And you just went with it? How does she enforce this rule? What if you watch more than one game?

LG: I LEARNED THE HARD WAY. SHE MAKES MY LIFE MISERABLE IF I DO.

Me: How?

LG: YELLS, SCREAMS, THROWS A FIT, REFUSES TO COOK DINNER. IT'S JUST EASIER TO DO WHAT SHE SAYS.

It's usually not cool to talk bad about a guy's wife right in front of him, but I felt like I should say something about what I had just heard. As I searched for the proper words, the Conspiracy Theorist, who had been listening, interjected.

"Dude, your wife is a cunt."

Most guys would take offense to someone calling their wife a cunt, even if it was true. But Loud Guy, so beaten down from years of marriage to that cunt, just nodded in agreement and walked away.

Book Review

Early this summer, some guy emailed me and asked me if I would be interested in a free copy of his book, in exchange for a book review on my blog. Usually I ignore emails like this; however, the title of his book intrigued me. "The Slacker's Guide to Law School: Success Without Stress".

This is a subject near and dear to my heart. I am a slacker. I went to law school. I was successful without stress. Slam dunk, right? Well, not exactly. The problem with this book is the same as with every law school advice book; it's full of well-meaning organizational tips and ideas that are not applicable to an actual law student. That is the fundamental problem with trying to advise people on how to be successful in law school. Everyone is different, and has to find what works for them. If you weren't a model student in undergrad, odds are you won't be one in law school. On the flip side, if you spend countless hours in the library, developing maniacally detailed organizational methods, then your law school experience will be the same. No book will change that, and even if you try to do what the book instructs, it won't last.

I didn't do shit in law school compared to a lot of people, but I did pretty well. People would ask me what my secret was, and I would struggle to tell them. It was really hard to verbalize what came so naturally to me.

That being said, every single person who goes to law school ends up buying one of those books. And to my knowledge, this is the first book that isn't written by some law review douchebag who is a lot smarter than you could ever hope to be. The author, Juan Doria, seems like a pretty cool guy who got his shit together enough to write a book. I can appreciate that. Plus, his book is a lot more entertaining than Planet Law School or the dreadful Law School Confidential. And if you are reading this blog, trust me, you would hate those books too. So if you are gonna get a book about law school, buy Juan's book. You can buy it here.

You Don't Know What You Got Till It's Gone

If you have never been to Cincinnati, there is something you need to know about us: We are a bunch of pussies. We fashion ourselves as a hearty bunch of folks, able to take on anything that comes our way. This is not true. For instance, on Sunday afternoon, the remnants of Hurricane Ike met up with a cold front and swept through our fair city. With wind gusts up to 75 mph, power to more than 90% of the area was knocked out. You'd think that a city with a fiercely independent, give-em-hell attitude like ours would withstand it. You'd think that, and you'd be wrong. Because this city freaked the fuck out.

Sadly, I am included in that freak out. Granted, I didn't wait in an hour-long line for gas or buy every remaining loaf of bread at a grocery store, like some people did. But I wasn't happy. I like power. I need power. On Sunday night, my living room was lit up with candles like we were having a seance. My wife, a Louisiana native and veteran of many hurricanes, was gleeful. "Isn't this fun?!?" she said several times. No. It wasn't fun. In fact, it sucked.

The degree to which I am reliant on internet access and cable television is somewhat alarming, based on my reaction when it is taken away from me. I went through severe withdrawal on Sunday night, knowing I could be aimlessly surfing the web and watching a football game. But that was nothing compared to how I felt on Monday morning, when my wife called me at work to tell me the power was back on. "But the cable is still out," she said. My heart sank. Seriously, what good is power if I can't use it to connect me to the outside world from the comfort of my home?

For the next 36 hours, I sulked. I whined. I complained. Coworkers who didn't yet have their electricity restored shot me death looks, but I didn't care. I'd have preferred to not have power at all. It was like a cruel tease, to be able to turn on my lights but not to be able to watch ESPN. I mean, what's the point?

Yesterday afternoon, I hit my low point. (Please note: I am not proud of this.) I get my land line telephone through the cable company too, so if the cable is out, my phone is out. I sat at work and called my home number. Over and over. Each time I would get a recording. Due to network difficulties, your call cannot be completed. I probably called it every five minutes, hoping beyond hope that it would ring. Ringing means cable. But it did not ring.

This morning, after trying to determine if Direct TV could hook up service on really short notice, I picked up my cell phone again, and dialed my house. I dreaded hearing the recording about network difficulties, but I couldn't resist. But this time, it rang. Four times! Then my answering machine picked up! That could only mean one thing! MY CABLE WAS BACK!

It was only 11:15, but I rushed home for lunch. I prepared myself for the worst, that my phone call was just a fluke. But when I saw my cable box lit up, fully functional, I did a full on Tiger Woods style arm pump. I grabbed the phone and called my wife. "Guess what? The cable is back on!!!"

"Oh, good," she said, not nearly as enthusiastic as me, since she didn't even seem to mind the outage.

"This is the happiest day of my life."

"Um, what about when we got married?"

I thought for a second. "No, this is better." She laughed, thinking that I was joking around. But you know what's sad? I'm not sure if I was....

A survivalist, I am not.

The Facebook User's Dilemma

When it first came out, I thought Facebook was stupid. Only after some prodding from a friend did I set up an account, and it wasn't until months later that I actually started using it. And for two years, I didn't really do much with it. I would check it every now and then, but nothing more. Then, back in January, I started working at my current company, and I found that my typical day included a lot of downtime. In searching for a way to fill that downtime, I discovered what so many people had discovered before me: Facebook is addictive.

I estimate that on any given work day, I spend two hours on Facebook. And my favorite activity on Facebook is looking through the 'People You May Know' section. (I will not explain what the 'People You May Know' section is, because I assume that anyone who is still reading this post knows exactly what it is.) The 'People You May Know' section is pretty accurate. Most of the time, I do know the people on the list. But, as the title of the post indicates, this is where my dilemma arises.

Of all of the people who I have known in my life, 10% were truly friends, 10% were enemies, and the other 80% fell into the category of chums, cronies, acquaintances, colleagues, sympathizers, compadres, associates, contemporaries, and well-wishers (meaning they didn't wish me any specific harm). The dilemma comes from these 80% of people who have passed through my life.

When one of the 80%ers pops up on my list, my first instinct is to add them as a friend. After all, they are a person I know. But then, I hesitate; what if I know that person better than they know me? Will it look strange that I added them? Or, what if, yes, I know that person and that person knows me, but it's been ten years since I saw him or her? If I add them, then I feel as if they 'win', because I am certainly on their list of people they might know too. We both clearly had the option to add the other as a friend, and if I did it first, then they somehow have something on me. And that is a feeling I do not like. On the flip side, if there is someone on my list who I have not added, but then I get the notification that they added me as a friend, a feeling of satisfaction comes over me, like they cracked first. I now have something on them. Or, as my friend Laura put it, "Aha! I was more significant to you than you were to me!"

Of course, what happens the majority of the time is that neither of us adds the other. As I sit at my desk, looking at the name and picture of someone I once knew, I imagine the other person staring at my name and picture, wanting to see my profile but resisting the urge to add me as a friend. And so we wait, in a high tech staring contest, waiting for the other one to blink first. That, or my imagination is getting overactive again.

(Note: I am always looking for new friends. If you want to be my friend, email me at initbutnotofit@gmail.com)

A Brief Discussion on Dazed and Confused

Between 1993 and 2001, I watched the movie Dazed and Confused approximately 247 times. During high school and college, it was the perfect movie to watch before starting the weekend. The movie spoke to the adolescent male soul, perfectly captured the duality of the high school party scene: underlying sexual tension and urgency to get fucked up as quickly as possible.

When I was in high school, I would watch Dazed and Confused and wonder why my experience didn't mirror the one in the movie, especially on the slow nights when five guys would sit in someones basement and polish off a case of Milwaukee's Best, no girls to be found. Sure, maybe we'd go smash some mailboxes, but it wasn't the same. In college, my friends and I would watch the movie and nostalgically speak of our own high school party memories, embellishing them all the way.

But then I lost my VHS copy of the movie and never got around to replacing it on DVD. I refuse to watch movies on basic cable, and Dazed and Confused became a somewhat distant memory for me. Last night, however, at 1am, it came on one of my 12 HBO channels, and the wife and I ended up watching the whole thing. And I have to tell you, at age 28, it was a remarkably different experience.

While I was still entertained by the movie, I also found the characters to be vaguely (or in some cases blatantly) pathetic. The reason that the movie was so rewatchable in my younger days is because there is no plot, no storyline. Its just a movie about some kids in Texas partying. No wonder I watched it so much. I liked parties too!

When I saw the movie Superbad last year, it replaced Dazed and Confused as the ultimate high school party movie in my mind. Not only was it more realistic (except for the cops), but that was my high school experience. I was Seth (except not as fat). But what struck me, watching Dazed and Confused as an adult, was the self-importance of the movie. I never noticed it when I was younger. It was almost off-putting.

When I saw the movie as a teenager, I was outraged that the coach would want his football players to sign a pledge to their team. Last night, it seemed to be a very reasonable request. The fact that the quarterback refused to sign it used to be the height of teenage rebellion. Now, he just came off as some angst ridden teenage douchebag looking to find "oppression" anywhere he could, completely disregarding the charmed life he had. What, being the star QB, the most popular guy in school, getting any girl he wanted is soooo bad? Get the fuck over yourself, douche. While still an entertaining movie, I don't think I can count it among my favorites anymore. Maybe I am just turning into a curmudgeon, but the people in that movie really annoyed me when I watched it last night.

All that being said, Wooderson is still perhaps the greatest movie character of all time.

Good Thing For Chlorine

Last weekend, I went to Mexico with some friends for a bachelor party. One day, we spent nearly six hours in the pool, drinking and getting sunburned. In addition to the four of us, there were a bunch of other people in the pool, and everyone was drinking. Curiously, no one was getting out.

As the afternoon turned to evening, a friend and I decided to call it a day. We climbed out of the pool, and as I was leaving, my old friend and former co-blogger Russ called out to me. "Hey Mike, where is the bathroom?"

"Uh...In the pool."

"Ugh. That is disgusting."

"There are 40 people here drinking, and no one is getting out. What do you think is happening?"

Everyone who heard the exchange laughed. They knew the score.

A Video Treat

I just got back from a Bachelor party in Puerto Vallarta, and after fitting a week's worth of drinking into a three day weekend, I don't feel very smart. As such, I will forgo a real post and instead, I will give you this, the finest piece of television MTV has ever aired: True Life-I Have A Summer Share



It's about 42 minutes long, but it is well worth the time investment. If you don't have 42 minutes, I suggest going to the 29:20 mark, which for me, is the highlight of the episode. In this scene, our protagonist Tommy, a guido with a heart of gold, is truly touched when some girl he is dancing with goes and gets some napkins to wipe off his profuse sweating. This is simply must-see television.