Monday, May 21, 2007


I hate it when people say Cali. I think it sounds way more real to say 'fornia. It'll catch on, once people realize how stupid they sound saying Cali. Posers.

Anyway I'm back in 'fornia now, after the longest, most malodorous flight I've suffered through in a while. Part of it was that I got on the plane in Boston feeling not on the top of my game - I had taken a swig of NyQuil pre-check-in because I had a horrible sore throat and wanted something to coat it, and no hot chocolate was immediately on hand, but then I ended up spilling the NyQuil all over my backpack and my hands and I think I may have had a NyQuil mustache when I did curbside check-in. I'm sure they've seen worse.

So here's what happened on the plane:

- I had to sit between two people and the guy on the aisle sighed loudly and looked hugely put-out when I politely asked to go to the bathroom. I only went three times during a 6.5-7 hour flight, which to me seems reasonable, but apparently to him was totally extravagent and self-indulgent of me. Oh, also, he had bad breath, and ordered three mini bottles of vodka when the beverages cart came around. THREE.
- The guy in front of me complained to the sassy male flight attendant that his seatbelt had become unhinged from the seat (and therefore was attached to nothing, and thus would not really protect him in the event of a collision with a mountain), and the flight attendant, who apparently was taking a page out of the playbook of the dude sitting next to me, sighed loudly and made it clear that the passenger was being a HUGE pain in the butt. He said something to the effect of, "Take your pills, sir," under his breath, and went and got a wrench to fix the errant seatbelt.
- After fixing the seatbelt, the flight attendant then proceeded to the back of the plane to complain loudly about the passenger, which was overheard by said passenger, since we were sitting approximately 2 feet from the back of the plane. Hearing the flight attendant mock him pissed off the complaining passenger (let's call him CP), who then got up from his seat, marched two feet to the back of the plane and accused the flight attendant of not taking passegners' concerns seriously.
- The flight attendant, I swear, then said this: "Sir, you need to sit down RIGHT NOW or you will be in violation of FAA regulations." CP said, "Well I just want to know why you were making fun of me for pointing out that my seatbelt wasn't working." Flight attendant: "Sir, SIT DOWN RIGHT NOW. I have asked you ONCE, do NOT make me ask you again. I am going to get your NAME and report you to the FAA." CP: "I'll give you my name, buddy, I'll save you the trouble." FA: "Don't even worry about it, sir, I'll get your name myself."
- Mini air-rage drama played out for 2 minutes or so more. Other passengers remained rapt.
- Plane finally f***ing landed.

My parents picked me up and we went back to their house in San Francisco, which is where I am sitting now. This morning, by the way, I woke up feeling much better about the world because I am back on the West Coast, it's gorgeous and sunny, and on my walk down to Ocean Beach today I saw two homeless people who looked like 1930's-style hobos get into a trash-throwing fight with each other. I think one actually threw a banana peel at the other one. Not that being a hobo is funny, but come on. Banana peel fight? Man, I love San Francisco.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

People I want to marry, and other things

People I want to marry who are probably/definitely unavailable:

1. Michael Ian Black - out of my league. Oh and married.
2. Brandon Flowers - Mormon. Also married.
3. Mark Ruffalo - married, famous, blah blah.
4. Jim Halpert - fictional.

Those are my top four, anyway.

So, speaking of marriage, my dear cousin Emily O'Rourke and i are on our SECOND cousin honeymoon in Boston. That looks creepy when I type it, but trust me, it's a beautiful thing. You'll recall that our first honeymoon took place in northeastern Brazil last March, where we went horseback riding and had long candlelit suppers.

It's going to be hard to top that magic, but sitting on my butt right now in a comfortable, squishy, warm, hotel room bed is coming pretty close. This is exactly what I needed after the last few weeks of finals madness and then hardcore celebration that involved, of course, major abuse to my body.

As soon as I finished my post-exam partying (12 pm to 4 am on Monday/Tuesday, no big deal), I got on a bus to New York on Tuesday morning (unpleasant) and went to the Telemundo Upfront and saw hot telenovela stars and presentadores, including the host of 12 Corazones, my favorite Spanish-language dating/quiz show. After that, on Wednesday morning, I had to drag my butt back to Boston, move all the crap out of my room (a 2-day process), and tie up all my loose ends around campus. For example, I had to eat at Three Aces one last time before I left -- stuff like that.

And now, finally, it's over, and I have exactly one week to relax before going to Argentina. Here we go.

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

donde esta la biblioteca

The library and I had a brief reconciliation. Now we are back on bad terms again. Damn 'brary always drives me to it.

I am, of course, NOT referring to the Langdell law library - that place and I have never been on speaking terms. Every time I go in that horrific monstrosity of a building, I see tons of kids from my section, curled into study carrels, feverishly typing away WHILE highlighting their casebook in six different colors WHILE writing notes in the margin WHILE moving their lips silently, no doubt memorizing every estate that exists under property law. No, no, the law library and I aren't cool, and probably never will be. I was actually talking about Lamont, the sort of dingy undergrad library with the cafe on the first floor.

Since finals began, I have made the big leap from studying in the Lamont cafe, where people talk and eat and laugh and can still see the outside world through big glass windows, to the 5th floor "quiet study area," where phones are kept on silent, people come early to hoard seat cushions (since the chairs are apparently made out of some sort of granite-disguised-as-wood), where it is necessary to stuff food into your face furtively, lest risk being handed a "ticket" ordering you to dispose of the offending food immediately, and the atmosphere is generally one of intensity and sadness.

This is where I sit now, in a study carrel, and where I have been since 9:30 AM. You'd think that in 8 hours I'd have gotten tons done, that I'd be feeling virtuous and energized and smarter for all my efforts. You'd be wrong. I feel ineffectual, exhausted, distracted, and slightly dumber. I guess others in my situation would take this opportunity to, say, stop blogging, and bear down and get more done, but I think I might have actually reached my breaking point. Just a few days ago, after spending all my available daylight hours in Lamont, I briskly walked home feeling powerful and efficient for my studying stamina. Those days are gone. Now the goal is just to cling to dear life until Monday at 11 am, when I will be done with both my property and contracts exams.

Almost there.