339 Thayer

do
not
delete
us.

Pittsburgh (July 25) -- On a clear, slightly chilly Sunday morning, the B(ee) Mobile, a no-frills 1996 Chevrolet Cavalier, was sold by Mr. Pet Rock to a man sources close to the sale identify only as "Chas." Many were shocked and saddened as news of the sale spread. Todd Martini, a frequent driver of the car when it was stationed in Providence, RI says he will "pour out a little Chivas" in memory of the many trips he made to Stop and Shop because a third roommate, Swollen Brokeass -- the video artist -- didn't have a driver's license.
When asked whether he would declare a day of mourning in Pennsylvania, Governor Ed Rendell indicated the black armband he was wearing. "Truly, it is a sad day for all Pennsylvanians," he said, "but we do take solace in the fact that the car will retain its Pennsylvania registration, at least for the time being." Governor Rendell seemed to chafe at the idea that the Smithsonian had already been in touch with Mr. Rock about acquiring the original license plate from the car. "Yes, this sale does have national attention, and yes, we're sure the politicos in Washington would just love to get their hands on this, but we have to draw the line somewhere," said Rendell at an afternoon press conference.
Although most Americans did not learn of the sale until today, Mr. Rock had known for several weeks that such action was on the horizon. Compounded with the recent appearance of a hole in the knee of his favorite pair of jeans, Mr. Rock was inconsolable Sunday. Through tears, he declined to comment for this report.

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.

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."

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

"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.

is there anybody out there?