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.

Let's Make It a True Daily Double

Sugars, imma let you in on a little secret. The other week was the best week of my life. And no, it wasn't because Of the maj sale on cowboy boots I scored. It was Kids Week on Jeopardy, and it was glorious.

There is nothing, nothing more gratifying than Kids Week on Jeopardy. The questions/answers are ridiculously easy, making you feel like an intellectual genius ( hey, I just got an entire category right!!). Even better though, than dominating Jeopardy (for the one time in life) is getting to laugh at kids from the privacy of your own home when they say something ridiculously and completely illogical.

Don't judge. You know you do it too. When that little girl responded that Louis XIV's stomping ground ( to paraphrase) was the Louvre and not Versailles, it was simply amaze balls. And when a chunky kid responded that the "kids business headquartered at One Geoffrey Way" was Dunkin Donuts, and not Toys R Us (it's mascot being Geoffrey, the giraffe), I nearly snorted Riesling out my nose.

I got my come uppance the following week though. It was Masters Week on Jeopardy, and the contestants are answering the questions and onto the next before I'm even done reading the prompt. Whatever, nerds.

Michael Phelps is Great, Can I Hear About Something Else Now?

Maybe it's just that I have the attention span of a 5 year in the Times Square Toys R Us these days, but I'm a little tired of hearing how Michael Phelps is the most decorated Olympian of all time.

Look, I get it. The guy has a ton of medals, broke a record and that's crazy impressive. But last time I checked, NBC was supposed to be broadcasting the Olympics, not the "Michael Phelps Interview, Fawn, Dote and Adore Hour with opening acts by some other athletes that do stuff too."

Last night as I was watching a commentator interview the men's relay team, I was horrified as she asked one of MPhelps teammates about what Michael's legacy would. For real? The guy just won an Olympic medal himself and all you can ask him about is his teammate's legacy? Not, I don't know, the incredible teamwork that made that win possible? I would be pretty offended by a stunt like that (and not just because I have an ego the size of Texas).

I could use a little more coverage on Ryan Lochte (ladies, who doesn't want to see a little more prime time Lochte), or how about a nice one-on-one sit down with Gabby Douglas? How about the US womens' rowing 8? Maybe we could even snag someone in the less publicized sports and throw a little 15 minutes their way?

Look, we all know Michael Phelps is great and we probably have a slew of Subway commercials to look forward to. But right now, Michael Phelps coverage reminds me of Halloween, approximately 30 minutes after trick or treating. I've had my fill and I just want to go to bed.

I Don't Want To Be A Traitor To My Gender and All: Tunic Tops

Ladies, I can't believe we have to have this conversation, but here it goes.  Tunic tops are not dresses.  They're just long shirts.  They need pants to go with them.  Do I totally get the thrill of not wearing pants?  Yes.  My routine the past week when I've gotten home has been Olympics on, pants off.  But that's in the privacy of my own home!  Where I live alone! 

I am shocked at the number of girls I see in the metro at 7:30am who forgot to put their pants on!  Where are they going?  Hopefully to the pants store to get some pants!  I can't think of anywhere where going pantsless is an option, unless you're a stripper.  If you're a stripper heading to work at 7:30am, then my guess is you're not a very good one if you get stuck with that shift.  Even so, Team USA Gymnastics puts on pants as they go from event to event, so I feel like you could wear pants on your way to the strip club as well.  

I just don't understand how a person can put on a top, see that it barely covers one's ass, and think, "Yes.  This is my look for today, off I go."  You're not Lady Gaga!  If you're walking up the escalator in the metro and you have to use a newspaper to cover your rear end, as a girl a few days ago did in front of me, it's pretty clear to me you've forgotten your pants.

So ladies, repeat after me: If the shirt my ass doth bare, then pants I must wear. 

My Summer Olympic Games

In honor of Michael Phelps' officially becoming the most decorated Olympian of all time, I'd like to proffer the following proposed Olympic events for the IOC's consideration. I'm pretty sure I could quickly surpass Phelps' record in all these events:

Salsa Eating: It is obscene how much salsa I can take down. I've got the chip to salsa ratio down, so that I can maximize salsa intake while minimizing chip intake.

Napping: I've been known to tell my friends/roommates/husband that I'm just laying down for twenty minutes, only to wake up 3 hours later, twisted in the blankets and confused where I am. Beat that, Misty May Treanor.

Bravo Watching: I have logged an insane amount of hours watching Bravo TV. I remember RHOC when Jeana Keough was on, and RHONY when Bethenny and Jill were besties. Pretty sure Ryan Lochte can't say that.

Online Shopping: I have online shopping down to a fine art. In fact, I think it's safe to say I haven't been in a store just to browse in probably 8 months. I hit RueLaLa at 11, Gilt at 12 and browse the websites of my favorites stores whenever need be. All while in my yoga pants and on the couch - where my dog doesn't judge me.