Dear Professors, You Suck.

It's a new semester: my last year of law school (praise Jesus in heaven and all the saints). My first semester of law school, way back in 2009 (yes I've been in law school forever) it was amateur hour and I bought all of my books brand new.  $700 and many tears later, I resolved that I would not be a fool again and that I would get all my book used.  The next year, I only spent $150 on books for fall semester and the strategy served me well for my 2L and 3L years.  

Now I'm in my 4th year.  I'm a seasoned, bitter, veteran and generally, at least when it comes to law school, I know what I'm doing.  So, the other day, I go to the bookstore to check out what books my profs are requiring, see if any of them are cheap there, otherwise I would turn to the internet.  It turns out this semester all four of my professors are in a conspiracy to rape my wallet since they all ordered new editions of the books.  In three of the four classes, the books are $200 a pop.  My fourth class is a bargain at $100.  

Are you freaking kidding me?! Has the law really changed that much in the last few years that I have to spend $700 on books again!?  The only time I like spending $700 in one place is at Saks Fifth Avenue and it's on items I've convinced myself I'm going to use for the rest of my life.  I can guarantee my Entertainment Law book will only make an appearance for the next three months and then will be completely useless.  These books depreciate like new cars so it's not like I'm going to get my money back if I sell them.  It's insanity. 

Professors, there's a magical thing called the Internet where cases are available.  How about you tell me what parts of the cases to read and I'll just read them off Westlaw.  Same goes for articles.  There are also old editions of the books where the cases from 1912 that I have to read are unchanged, so hows about you assign those and let me save my money for new sunglasses for me...which I'll totally use for the rest of my life.  

Self-Checkout Lines...The Final Frontier

OSP: WELCOME TO OUR FIRST GUEST BLOGGER!!  Enjoy!

Hello everyone.  Long time reader, first time blogger here.  

As I was waiting in line today at CVS I realized I had something to add the internet complaint echo chamber.  Why is that?  Because I was waiting in line for the self-checkout counter.

I remember back when these were first introduced.  I was an undergrad at Michigan State and the Meijer put four in.  I was stoked.  The future was arriving in the form of touch screens and conveyor belts just like Soylent Green promised!  (This was a pre-iTouch world but anything seemed possible.)  My enthusiasm was quickly tempered by problems with the technology.  If there was an issue with the weight, the machine froze.  If I was buying booze (not really an if situation) I had to wait for an attendant to come and enter in my age.  If I was buying fresh produce it was just a huge pain in the ass.  Eventually I completely gave up on the whole idea.

Unfortunately, the CVS near my work has converted to one old-school checkout line and four self-operated ones.  My experience has only justified the switch in my mind.  Apparently, operating a self-checkout line is a skill on par with rocket science or raising a Quiverfull family.  The people ahead of me took my entire lunch break up just checking out.  None had more than five items: candy, soda, candy, chips, tylenol.  These people were bad at scanning, bagging, paying, and, given their aversion to the human check-out counter, human interaction.  Unbeknownst to me, people still pay for things with cash.  They also apparently carry their cash in crumpled wads of each pocket of every item of clothing they have on.  While I am sure this is effective anti-theft protection, it renders the cash useless to any automated cash reader.  Feed, spit, feed, spit.  I have seen babies hold things down better than these machines did.  

It took me 40 seconds, I timed it.  This really isn't hard folks.  If you can't use the machinery, please use the cashier line.  

Football Season and Fashion Sense

I don't know about you but I'm basically giddy with excitement for football season.  I freaking love the sport.  I want to be the creeper who watches a high school Friday night game, even though I've been out of high school for ten years now, then goes to my alma mater, THE Ohio State University to catch game day there on Saturday and then spend Sunday with friends watching football for 10 hours straight.  Throw in some Monday night football and Thursday night football and that's five out of seven days devoted to the game I love.  

Since I'm a diehard devotee of the Ohio State Buckeyes, I of course have a jersey that I'll wear if I'm lucky enough to snag a seat in the Horseshoe.  I totally get getting decked out for game day, even if you're just watching the game at a bar, or at a house party or tailgate.  Putting on the jersey is fun.  

What I don't get is people who wear jerseys on a random Tuesday as though that's appropriate attire for the day.  1) Those jerseys smell funny.  They're like some funky mix of plastic and wearable textile that smells like rubber gone bad.  You can wash them all you want, they're still smelly.  2) They're not all that comfortable.  This lady likes to wear cotton and cashmere, not unbreathable synthetic textiles.  3) They're hot as fuck.  I don't mean good looking, I mean just hot, which makes you sweat, which makes the jerseys that much stinkier.  So with the lethal trifecta of smelly, uncomfortable and hot I really don't understand why people wear them as teeshirts.  Just put on a teeshirt instead!

Unless you're suiting up for an actual game, or for entrance into a stadium or a party, let's leave the jerseys at home.  You're not kidding anyone by pretending to be an athlete while you wear it in a MacDonalds while you supersize your french fries.  

Here Comes Honey Boo-Mazing!

Next to Bravo, E, and Lifetime, TLC might just be my next favorite channel. After all, TLC has been responsible for such programming gems as 18/19/20/50 Thousand Kids and Counting (a reality show about a family that really needs to put a TV in their parents' bedroom) and Toddlers and Tiaras (a reality show about pageant children/aka my plans for my niece).

And now, in another stroke of creative genius, TLC brings us "Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.". Honey Boo Boo first made her TV debut on Toddlers and Tiaras as Alana, the gloriously redneck pageant star. And now, Honey Boo Boo Child and her entire redneck family have their very own show. Complete with frequent belly-slapping and extreme couponing. Yes, TLC, yes.

In the most recent episode, the family brought in an etiquette coach to work on manners and poise with HBBC. The last time I saw that much giggling over gas passed at the dinner table.... Well, I've never seen that much. HBBC's momma: save the money you spent on that etiquette coach and buy a few fresh veggies.

Also in the most recent episode, HBBC was upset because she wasn't crowned at a natural beauty pageant. So, her parents got her a pig. A pig: the 'participation award' of the Deep South.

Ahh yes. rednecks, toddler pageants and pigs. The Quality Programming Trifecta.

Just Do What Everyone Else Is Doing, Please.

I know this is a reoccurring theme on this blog, but can we all please just take a look around us, see what everyone else is doing and then do the same thing?  There is really no need ever to be a weirdo.

Here's what's irked me recently.  One, I was at a lunch with a bunch of people.  It was a late lunch so naturally everyone was hungry.  The first six people ordered--they all ordered only a main course.  Then we come to Mr. Number Seven who has to order an appetizer, in addition to a main course.  This meant that six hungry people had to sit there, watch him eat his appetizer and wait even longer for our meals to come out because this was a fancy restaurant that actually times the food to come out course by course.  With every bite Mr. Number Seven took, all I could think was, "You have got to be effing kidding me here."  It's not hard to see no one else ordered an appetizer, we're all hungry, either order something for the entire table, or just ask for everything to come out at once!  Otherwise you're just being rude.

The other situation was that I was at a spa here in Germany.  I was a little bit frightened to go to said spa just because Germans love them some nudity.  When I lived in Munich, there were so many people in their birthday suits just lounging in a public park that it truly shocked my American sense of propriety.  However, when I got to the spa, everyone had bathing suits on and it was very nice and proper.  My sister-in-law and I were relaxing in a pretty small pool when in walk two ass naked women.  Old women.  Like holding their boobs up with their arms old.  And in they come into the swimming pool and just start swimming laps, stark naked.  I mean everyone else had suits on.  Why couldn't they suit up?!

So again, I beg of you, just follow the crowd.  It's what the cool kids do and what you should do too.

OMG EAT A BURGER

This weekend, in a refreshing break from weekends spent studying, I hit the gym.

I was working through a light weight circuit when I looked over and saw a skeleton doing weight assisted chin ups. I was so confused. How can a skeleton do chin ups? I thought skeletons just chilled out in closets, waiting to pop out at your most public moment. Was it Halloween? Had I been under a rock that long and this was some sick prank the gym was pulling on its members?

Then the skeleton moved, and I got rurl scurred. Skeletons don't move on their own! It was doing "push ups" on the floor before I realized it had skin and wasn't a skeleton at all but, without a doubt, the skinniest girl I have ever seen. And that includes Kate Moss.

This girl was moving through a workout, as though she had muscles to actually work out. The poor thing was nothing but bone and ligament. I hate to break it to her, but she wasn't fooling anyone with "Sexy Girl" written down the leg of her pants. There's nothing sexy about how I could count every bone in her spine.

Sugar, go grab a meal. Maybe then you'll actually have something to work out.

Ode to the Speedo

Oh hai sugars!  It's your old pal Kiki checking in from Germany.  There are a lot of things that I love about German culture--the work hard/play hard mindset, the food, the drinks, the architecture, small town living (seriously, you walk down the street with my mom in the morning and it's straight out of Beauty and the Beast with everyone saying "Guten Morgen" to each other).  Some things drive me a little crazy--stubbornness, formalism, the dirty looks I get when I'm being a loud American.  But one thing I'll never grow tired of: the speedo.  My first day here, my brother said let's go to the pool since he has two three-year-olds to entertain.  He asked if I wanted to come along and of course I said yes because I knew going to the pool in Germany meant one thing--speedos.

Germans love speedos.  EVERYBODY wears them.  You might think that young people maybe would get with the program and realize that not even Olympic swimmers wear them anymore and that they might want to give swim trunks a try, but you'd be wrong.  German men apparently want to show off the goods.  This of course turns me into a snickering, giggling idiot each time we go to the pool because I can't stop giggling over how SILLY men look in them!  There is this one regular at the pool--this guy must be in his late 60s, he's in retirement, he's about as bronze as the Tan Mom from New Jersey, and when he sunbathes, he turns his speedo into a thong.  Because apparently he wants to make me laugh and blush at the same time.

I can't wrap my mind around anyone thinking this look is ok especially considering there are nice, fashionable alternatives!  Yet the Germans, in their infinite stubbornness, still rock the speedos (and listen to David Hasselhoff).  God bless 'em.