31 May 2004
Sandra Day O'Connor works out at my gym. . .
Or at least her döppelganger does. I was on the airdyne bike when she sauntered back from the ladies' on her way to the treadmill. She made some comment about walking through the breeze created by the bike's giant fan wheel. At that point I couldn't place her, and by the time I had satisfyingly made the connection she and her frosted top had disappeared. Perhaps she was on her way back to D.C. (I always wondered why Pittsburgh is referred to as the "vacation Mecca for sitting Supreme Court Justices.")
In addition to Sandra Day, I have seen a bunch of people I went to school with at the same gym. Through my prize-winning deductive skills, I have ascertained that no fewer than six work there (three are siblings) and the other two go there. I have thus divided the collective mass I went to school with into two groups: Those who work at Club One, and those who are going to law school. So far there appear to be fewer of us in the latter category.
And then there's Greg. He and I used to play ridiculously idiotic sports-themed games in his backyard when I was younger (among which was one that involved one of us blindfolded, stumbling around in the grass while the other tried to steathily yank out the first's legs from underneath him). We also both collected baseball cards and enjoyed the board game PayDay and another board game about surfing. From the communiqués I recieve via Friendster and the assorted bit of news that comes filtered through our mothers, he has finished school, is considering graduate school in either economics or eastern european studies (at Ole Miss, perhaps) and phoned home the other day from Ohio to tell his mother that he was there with some girl he's now seeing. I eagerly await his return so that I can say I have a friend. (I just talked to Kate yesterday, though, and she suggests that it is not uncommon for summer associates in new cities -- play along with me here -- to have few [read: no] friends. Friendships will blossom, she assures me.) I have to say, though, it was disturbingly easy to sit on the porch last night in the last few hours of daylight enjoying the corrections and one, maybe two, and possibly three beers. No shame in that game. Especially not now that my life includes a proper porch and all of the sounds that come along with it, including but not limited to kids scootering down the street, the neighbor's horse-sized great dane barking, and different neighbors yelling at each other in hushed tones so as to not alarm the children, but succeeding in alarming most of the adult population on the block.
Tomorrow the other shoe drops and work begins at 9h00. The day looks like it will consist mostly of shaking hands, attempts not to alllow unsightly sweat to creep onto freshly ironed shirts, and filling out of I-9s. More to come on that later.
Now if you two (no names mentioned, *ahem*) ever posted again, that would be nice.
Or at least her döppelganger does. I was on the airdyne bike when she sauntered back from the ladies' on her way to the treadmill. She made some comment about walking through the breeze created by the bike's giant fan wheel. At that point I couldn't place her, and by the time I had satisfyingly made the connection she and her frosted top had disappeared. Perhaps she was on her way back to D.C. (I always wondered why Pittsburgh is referred to as the "vacation Mecca for sitting Supreme Court Justices.")
In addition to Sandra Day, I have seen a bunch of people I went to school with at the same gym. Through my prize-winning deductive skills, I have ascertained that no fewer than six work there (three are siblings) and the other two go there. I have thus divided the collective mass I went to school with into two groups: Those who work at Club One, and those who are going to law school. So far there appear to be fewer of us in the latter category.
And then there's Greg. He and I used to play ridiculously idiotic sports-themed games in his backyard when I was younger (among which was one that involved one of us blindfolded, stumbling around in the grass while the other tried to steathily yank out the first's legs from underneath him). We also both collected baseball cards and enjoyed the board game PayDay and another board game about surfing. From the communiqués I recieve via Friendster and the assorted bit of news that comes filtered through our mothers, he has finished school, is considering graduate school in either economics or eastern european studies (at Ole Miss, perhaps) and phoned home the other day from Ohio to tell his mother that he was there with some girl he's now seeing. I eagerly await his return so that I can say I have a friend. (I just talked to Kate yesterday, though, and she suggests that it is not uncommon for summer associates in new cities -- play along with me here -- to have few [read: no] friends. Friendships will blossom, she assures me.) I have to say, though, it was disturbingly easy to sit on the porch last night in the last few hours of daylight enjoying the corrections and one, maybe two, and possibly three beers. No shame in that game. Especially not now that my life includes a proper porch and all of the sounds that come along with it, including but not limited to kids scootering down the street, the neighbor's horse-sized great dane barking, and different neighbors yelling at each other in hushed tones so as to not alarm the children, but succeeding in alarming most of the adult population on the block.
Tomorrow the other shoe drops and work begins at 9h00. The day looks like it will consist mostly of shaking hands, attempts not to alllow unsightly sweat to creep onto freshly ironed shirts, and filling out of I-9s. More to come on that later.
Now if you two (no names mentioned, *ahem*) ever posted again, that would be nice.
27 May 2004
I have arrived in Pittsburgh.
Zhe swees arrivay.
The b-mobile, with it's muffler dangling and air-conditioning still non-existent, rides again. Maybe. If it passes inspection.
As a wise (wo)man once told me, "woot."
Zhe swees arrivay.
The b-mobile, with it's muffler dangling and air-conditioning still non-existent, rides again. Maybe. If it passes inspection.
As a wise (wo)man once told me, "woot."
20 May 2004
How are you going to sneak back into the apartment without even telling me?
Beard?
Beardy-buh-deard-deard?
Only a handful of hours left before I really have nothing important to do. Other than pack up, go to Pittsburgh and start work. But those 8 days in between will be sweet.
sweet sweet can
Beard?
Beardy-buh-deard-deard?
Only a handful of hours left before I really have nothing important to do. Other than pack up, go to Pittsburgh and start work. But those 8 days in between will be sweet.
sweet sweet can
01 May 2004
"The cumbersome amendment process, requiring approval by two-thirds of both Houses and Congress and three-fourths of the states, makes it likely that few amendments will be added to the Constitution." Constitutional Law: Principles and Policies Erwin Chemerinsky, page 23, sentence 5.
1. Grab the nearest book
2. Open the book to page 23
3. Find the fifth sentence
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
So lame.
1. Grab the nearest book
2. Open the book to page 23
3. Find the fifth sentence
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
So lame.
