Now a bit about Bex, the third Barsketeer.
And Yes we called ourselves the Barsketeers because we were too brain dead to come up with anything more clever.
Bex is a sunny young woman with beautiful red hair and a smile that lights the room. If she had another freckle she'd have to carry it in her pocketbook. Quick to laugh, always positive and probably the most truly spiritual person I've ever known. She introduced me to the Buddhist Temple I attended in The Pacific Northwest's Most Beautiful City. Thanks Bex, I will always be grateful that - among all the other things you've given.
My last semester of law school was complicated by several health issues, and it was so bad at one point I seriously considered withdrawing from school. With each problem, each diagnosis, I kept thinking, "One more thing, and I'm going to lose it!"
And then there'd be One More Thing.
So into summer Bar Review, Bex was gracious enough to help me. She managed doctor appointments, traipsed with me to the hospital, took notes, encouraged me, even helped me stay up all night one night for a sleep-deprivation test.
Bex is no stranger to the fear one can have of illness; of deep personal challenge or profound loss.
I will not go into her story here. It is not mine to tell. Suffice it to say the next time you are crying in your cups over your lot in life, think of Bex and her fiance, and recognize your life has been nothing but unicorns shitting rainbows.
One of the newspaper articles about her fiance here.
Although now I am pleased to report that today Bex is happily married to a lovely man, has a sweet step-son, and a fulfilling career.
Go Bex! Lord knows you deserve it.
So that was our little band, Me Mike and Bex.
More on the Review, the Bar itself, in further posts.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
The Washington State Bar Exam, Chapter Two
As mentioned previously, I studied with Mike and Bex. Today is about Mike.
This dude is, hands down, A Fine Man.
My Alma Mater was keen on bringing in diverse students, especially ones embarking on second careers like me - and like Mike.
I used to be in advertising, which has its Cool Factor and all, but Mike.
Before law school Mike was - wait for it - a fighter pilot.
I KNOW. A FIGHTER PILOT.
Now before I get into that, I have to admit bias because, well, my friend Kendall who is quite dear to me lost not only his biological father but later his stepfather to airflight. His biological father a military test pilot and well, not really my place to tell that story.
Anyway not only is Mike a previous fighter pilot making him Insane Cool, he is also as good as gold, not the Big Head at all. A tall strapping man with a shock of gray hair and dancing eyes. He reminds me of my brother, all those personality traits I wish I had. Friendly, engaging, charismatic... As said in Texas, He's never met a stranger.
He and Bex were good friends, and in the same law section (I was in Section C, I think they were in B). I got to know him a little when we had Con Law together.
I remember he and his wife invited Bex and I over for a party during Review. We all needed the break and it was a good summer get-together.
I was totally entranced with his pilots helmet, it had taken beatings. Like a professional football player's helmet, but with meaning, dedication to country, and cool stickers.
"Jeez Mike, you were a fighter pilot - you must have loved it, must have been so thrilled to be at the very top of the game, and the military must have backed you completely to train you to fly such incredible aircraft...why did you leave?"
"Because I was just the driver, disposable. Pilots can be trained for (x$), but Fighter planes cost (1,000,000x$). Which do you think they consider more valuable?"
Oh. Well I guess I can see that, as much as I'd prefer not.
So that's a bit of Mike.
And a bit of my friend Kendall. I know I'd not be the person I am today without my friend Kendall, and in turn Kendall would not be Kendall without his father.
This weekend, please think of Mike's work, all those who have given, and the sacrifice of Kendall's father.
The family Kendall's father left behind, the children he did not get to see grow up, the incredible grandchildren he never knew.
He gave his life for this country.
This dude is, hands down, A Fine Man.
My Alma Mater was keen on bringing in diverse students, especially ones embarking on second careers like me - and like Mike.
I used to be in advertising, which has its Cool Factor and all, but Mike.
Before law school Mike was - wait for it - a fighter pilot.
I KNOW. A FIGHTER PILOT.
Now before I get into that, I have to admit bias because, well, my friend Kendall who is quite dear to me lost not only his biological father but later his stepfather to airflight. His biological father a military test pilot and well, not really my place to tell that story.
Anyway not only is Mike a previous fighter pilot making him Insane Cool, he is also as good as gold, not the Big Head at all. A tall strapping man with a shock of gray hair and dancing eyes. He reminds me of my brother, all those personality traits I wish I had. Friendly, engaging, charismatic... As said in Texas, He's never met a stranger.
He and Bex were good friends, and in the same law section (I was in Section C, I think they were in B). I got to know him a little when we had Con Law together.
I remember he and his wife invited Bex and I over for a party during Review. We all needed the break and it was a good summer get-together.
I was totally entranced with his pilots helmet, it had taken beatings. Like a professional football player's helmet, but with meaning, dedication to country, and cool stickers.
"Jeez Mike, you were a fighter pilot - you must have loved it, must have been so thrilled to be at the very top of the game, and the military must have backed you completely to train you to fly such incredible aircraft...why did you leave?"
"Because I was just the driver, disposable. Pilots can be trained for (x$), but Fighter planes cost (1,000,000x$). Which do you think they consider more valuable?"
Oh. Well I guess I can see that, as much as I'd prefer not.
So that's a bit of Mike.
And a bit of my friend Kendall. I know I'd not be the person I am today without my friend Kendall, and in turn Kendall would not be Kendall without his father.
This weekend, please think of Mike's work, all those who have given, and the sacrifice of Kendall's father.
The family Kendall's father left behind, the children he did not get to see grow up, the incredible grandchildren he never knew.
He gave his life for this country.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
The Washington State Bar Exam
Ah, the Bar.
So many hateful things can be said about the Washington State Bar. Unlike every other state in the country, Washington has its own unique Bar. To make up for its excessive cruelty and arbitrary grading system, it only allows you reciprocity in Oregon and Utah.
I studied with my excellent friends Mike and Bex. They were both part of the Dispute Resolution team, so they were able to commandeer the Judge's Chamber in the Law School building.
We stocked it with very unhealthy snacks and even a coffee maker. We sat in that windowless room for about 10 hours a day, 6 days a week - writing flash cards, timing our essays, giving each other shit and slowly losing our minds over the six-week marathon.
We got pretty punchy.
One particularly nonsensical thing we did was listen to this song OVER AND OVER AGAIN.
From Flight of the Conchords, billed as the fourth most-popular folk parody band in New Zealand:
More on the Bar, my inspiring friend Bex, and my goofy-assed friend Mike in another post.
So many hateful things can be said about the Washington State Bar. Unlike every other state in the country, Washington has its own unique Bar. To make up for its excessive cruelty and arbitrary grading system, it only allows you reciprocity in Oregon and Utah.
I studied with my excellent friends Mike and Bex. They were both part of the Dispute Resolution team, so they were able to commandeer the Judge's Chamber in the Law School building.
We stocked it with very unhealthy snacks and even a coffee maker. We sat in that windowless room for about 10 hours a day, 6 days a week - writing flash cards, timing our essays, giving each other shit and slowly losing our minds over the six-week marathon.
We got pretty punchy.
One particularly nonsensical thing we did was listen to this song OVER AND OVER AGAIN.
From Flight of the Conchords, billed as the fourth most-popular folk parody band in New Zealand:
More on the Bar, my inspiring friend Bex, and my goofy-assed friend Mike in another post.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
A Wedding in Po-Dunk
As reported earlier, I went home to Tejas for my brother's wedding.
It was...something else again, as my Grandma would have said. Which is a great expression because it can mean anything from That was wonderful! to Are you shitting me?
Anyway.
Brother and Mrs. Brother-to-Be (MrsB2B) had a small ceremony in her backyard, about fifty people. Pastor Paul officiated. Very charming and engaging guy. A Baptist ceremony, as MrsB2B is Catholic. This is her third marriage and I guess the Pope has probs with that. So if you can't go Catholic, go Baptist, I guess. Just as oppressive.
The vows were... Baptist. Lots of, "Brother, will you be the head of this family and promise to guide the submission of MrsB2B...."
Okie dokie.
Brother repeats his vows and places the ring on her finger.
Pastor Paul turns to MrsB2B.
"MrsB2B, do you promise to submit yourself to the guidance of Brother?"
Silence.
"MrsB2B...? You need to repeat after me...?"
Nothing.
Then
She fainted.
Straight out, dropped like a rock.
Brother caught her round the waist. Pastor Paul looks shocked for a moment, everyone is freaking, then Pastor says "Let's get her inside." He reaches down to grab her legs, but manages to get one MrsB2B ankle and one Brother ankle.
Two legs go up, Brother says, "Um that's me Paul!" Paul recovers and picks up the matching pair of legs. Luckily they did not end up in a heap on the patio. Although that would have made for a much more amusing story.
Brother and Paul get totally unconscious Mrs B2B in the house, on the couch with her feet up. We all come pouring in behind. Ice is applied.
A voice from the back calls out, "Cover her legs!"
What - someone is worried we'll get a flash of thigh? How about "Should we call 911?"
MrsB2B slowly recovers, mumbling, "Okay, I can do this...I can...I can do this..."
Like it's the last leg of a triathlon.
Anyway, she rallies, the vows are completed and the party ensues. She took a lot of ribbing and was a good sport about it, I have to say. I mean, pass out at your own wedding?
That was something else again.
Good Times down in Po-Dunk.
It was...something else again, as my Grandma would have said. Which is a great expression because it can mean anything from That was wonderful! to Are you shitting me?
Anyway.
Brother and Mrs. Brother-to-Be (MrsB2B) had a small ceremony in her backyard, about fifty people. Pastor Paul officiated. Very charming and engaging guy. A Baptist ceremony, as MrsB2B is Catholic. This is her third marriage and I guess the Pope has probs with that. So if you can't go Catholic, go Baptist, I guess. Just as oppressive.
The vows were... Baptist. Lots of, "Brother, will you be the head of this family and promise to guide the submission of MrsB2B...."
Okie dokie.
Brother repeats his vows and places the ring on her finger.
Pastor Paul turns to MrsB2B.
"MrsB2B, do you promise to submit yourself to the guidance of Brother?"
Silence.
"MrsB2B...? You need to repeat after me...?"
Nothing.
Then
She fainted.
Straight out, dropped like a rock.
Brother caught her round the waist. Pastor Paul looks shocked for a moment, everyone is freaking, then Pastor says "Let's get her inside." He reaches down to grab her legs, but manages to get one MrsB2B ankle and one Brother ankle.
Two legs go up, Brother says, "Um that's me Paul!" Paul recovers and picks up the matching pair of legs. Luckily they did not end up in a heap on the patio. Although that would have made for a much more amusing story.
Brother and Paul get totally unconscious Mrs B2B in the house, on the couch with her feet up. We all come pouring in behind. Ice is applied.
A voice from the back calls out, "Cover her legs!"
What - someone is worried we'll get a flash of thigh? How about "Should we call 911?"
MrsB2B slowly recovers, mumbling, "Okay, I can do this...I can...I can do this..."
Like it's the last leg of a triathlon.
Anyway, she rallies, the vows are completed and the party ensues. She took a lot of ribbing and was a good sport about it, I have to say. I mean, pass out at your own wedding?
That was something else again.
Good Times down in Po-Dunk.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Have Some Catalonian Music
Sopa de Cabra (Goat Soup), performing Deixa'm Dir una Cosa.
Which I think roughly translates to "Let Me Say One Thing."
Or maybe, "There's a Dogfish in the Banana Patch."
Hard to say, Catalan is a strange dialect. Regardless, I think his chick is leaving him.
Enjoy, and have a wonderful weekend.
Which I think roughly translates to "Let Me Say One Thing."
Or maybe, "There's a Dogfish in the Banana Patch."
Hard to say, Catalan is a strange dialect. Regardless, I think his chick is leaving him.
Enjoy, and have a wonderful weekend.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Reap What You Sow
I love Bill Maher, and although I don't have HBO I catch clips of him on HuffPo pretty regularly.
This comment, Skinheads Up, by Bill on the death of Neo-Nazi Leader Jeff Hall.
This comment, Skinheads Up, by Bill on the death of Neo-Nazi Leader Jeff Hall.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Endangered Species Day
Friday, May 20th is the sixth-annual Endangered Species Day.
Go out and do something endangering. Or at least perilous.
If you can't think of anything, look here to see what's happening in your area.
And if you are a progressive liberal democrat like me, just throw money at the problem by donating to:
The World Wildlife Fund
Earthjustice
Natural Resources Defense Council
or an organization in your city.
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Go out and do something endangering. Or at least perilous.
If you can't think of anything, look here to see what's happening in your area.
And if you are a progressive liberal democrat like me, just throw money at the problem by donating to:
The World Wildlife Fund
Earthjustice
Natural Resources Defense Council
or an organization in your city.
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
A Cajun Joke.
So growing up in Texas means OU jokes, A&M jokes, Cajun jokes. They are probably the same jokes anyone hears anywhere - pick-your-enemy jokes.
OU - Actually I think technically it's The University of Oklahoma, but if you're from the University of Texas we downgrade them to OU.
Totally classic UT joke:
Q: Why doesn't Texas fall into the Gulf?
A: Because OU sucks.
A&M - Any university that encourages students to say "Howdy" to each other should be plowed under. A&M literally hates UT....and as well they may, considering our superiority.
Cajuns - okay, I can tell cajun jokes because I come from cajuns. Hi Grandpa, wherever you are!
Here's one of my favorite cajun jokes, from a series of jokes involving Pierre (PEE-air) and Baptiste (Bob-TEESE):
So Pierre and Baptiste go down the bayou to rent a boat and go fishing.
They go out the bayou (way back where it dauk, even in da daytime) and casting their lines, they start catching left and right (da fish, day jumpin in da boat).
Pierre says, "Baptiste, we gotta come back ta dis same spot tomorra!"
Baptiste replies, "Well yeah - but how we know how ta get back ta dis spot?"
Pierre thinks.
"I know," he says, "I put a big 'X' right here on da bottom of da boat ta mark da spot."
Baptiste, disgusted, "Pierre, you so stupid. How you know tomorra we get da same boat?"
Ha! Oh I am so Texan sometimes.
OU - Actually I think technically it's The University of Oklahoma, but if you're from the University of Texas we downgrade them to OU.
Totally classic UT joke:
Q: Why doesn't Texas fall into the Gulf?
A: Because OU sucks.
A&M - Any university that encourages students to say "Howdy" to each other should be plowed under. A&M literally hates UT....and as well they may, considering our superiority.
Cajuns - okay, I can tell cajun jokes because I come from cajuns. Hi Grandpa, wherever you are!
Here's one of my favorite cajun jokes, from a series of jokes involving Pierre (PEE-air) and Baptiste (Bob-TEESE):
So Pierre and Baptiste go down the bayou to rent a boat and go fishing.
They go out the bayou (way back where it dauk, even in da daytime) and casting their lines, they start catching left and right (da fish, day jumpin in da boat).
Pierre says, "Baptiste, we gotta come back ta dis same spot tomorra!"
Baptiste replies, "Well yeah - but how we know how ta get back ta dis spot?"
Pierre thinks.
"I know," he says, "I put a big 'X' right here on da bottom of da boat ta mark da spot."
Baptiste, disgusted, "Pierre, you so stupid. How you know tomorra we get da same boat?"
Ha! Oh I am so Texan sometimes.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Have Some Music.
Sorry I've not written much, been a rough week.
Here's some swing. Have a great weekend.
Here's some swing. Have a great weekend.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
A Question from my Dad
One awesome thing about my Mom is, she respects my privacy and rarely asks me about my personal life. My Dad is a different matter - but he has a sense of humor about it.
"So how's it going in DC? Are you dating anybody?"
"No not really. The guys I go out with, it's completely casual."
"But you're a good-looking girl! Can't you find a keeper?"
"Well I suppose so - but you know Dad, these days I'm strictly into 'catch and release'."
He laughed and said "Good for you!"
"So how's it going in DC? Are you dating anybody?"
"No not really. The guys I go out with, it's completely casual."
"But you're a good-looking girl! Can't you find a keeper?"
"Well I suppose so - but you know Dad, these days I'm strictly into 'catch and release'."
He laughed and said "Good for you!"
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Texas, Our Texas
First off, I want to be careful here because the only person I want to truly mock on this blog is me. But I just returned from a weekend at home in Po-Dunk for my brother's wedding and there were some pretty funny moments with my Texan brethren.
....
Apparently silverware has its own nickname in Texas: "snackin' irons".
I heard the words, "ain't", "yonder" and "vittles" often enough to last a lifetime. Also just so you know, if it is farther than yonder, it's "way down yonder".
Related to, but different from, the plural of "ya'll", which is "all ya'll".
....
My Mom is almost completely deaf - she only has about 20% of her hearing in one ear. These leads to her often misunderstanding what is said to her.
Dad to Mom: Did I tell you the story of Howard meeting his wife?
Mom: What?? When did that happen? That's awful - was that before or after they got married?
Dad: ?
Mom: Oh, I thought you said 'beating'.
Me to Mom: Mom, do you want a glass of wine?
Mom: No, I have some in my purse.
....
My Dad always drops one really excellent gem, and I often time it to see how long I am home before he does.
Picking me up at the airport, Dad jumps out of the car and hugs me. "Wow, you look great! You're not fat again!" Timing: two minutes.
....
I saw my Uncle Bobby and Aunt Reba Lee (yes). We have the same exchange every time I see them.
Aunt Reba: So what have you been doing?
Me: Well I'm an attorney now, working on environmental policy issues in DC. I get sound science in front of congressmen so they can make informed decisions on the application of statutes, like the Endangered Species Act, for example.
Aunt Reba: So no man? Well honey you're not getting any younger.
Here's what I fantasize about:
Aunt Reba: So what have you been doing?
Me: Well my novel is on the New York Times best seller list, I discovered the cure for cancer, and I single-handedly end the drug wars in Mexico.
Aunt Reba: So no man? Well honey you're not getting any younger.
....
Apparently silverware has its own nickname in Texas: "snackin' irons".
I heard the words, "ain't", "yonder" and "vittles" often enough to last a lifetime. Also just so you know, if it is farther than yonder, it's "way down yonder".
Related to, but different from, the plural of "ya'll", which is "all ya'll".
....
My Mom is almost completely deaf - she only has about 20% of her hearing in one ear. These leads to her often misunderstanding what is said to her.
Dad to Mom: Did I tell you the story of Howard meeting his wife?
Mom: What?? When did that happen? That's awful - was that before or after they got married?
Dad: ?
Mom: Oh, I thought you said 'beating'.
Me to Mom: Mom, do you want a glass of wine?
Mom: No, I have some in my purse.
....
My Dad always drops one really excellent gem, and I often time it to see how long I am home before he does.
Picking me up at the airport, Dad jumps out of the car and hugs me. "Wow, you look great! You're not fat again!" Timing: two minutes.
....
I saw my Uncle Bobby and Aunt Reba Lee (yes). We have the same exchange every time I see them.
Aunt Reba: So what have you been doing?
Me: Well I'm an attorney now, working on environmental policy issues in DC. I get sound science in front of congressmen so they can make informed decisions on the application of statutes, like the Endangered Species Act, for example.
Aunt Reba: So no man? Well honey you're not getting any younger.
Here's what I fantasize about:
Aunt Reba: So what have you been doing?
Me: Well my novel is on the New York Times best seller list, I discovered the cure for cancer, and I single-handedly end the drug wars in Mexico.
Aunt Reba: So no man? Well honey you're not getting any younger.
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