getting married in style

My favorite spot in the library is the desk in the northwest corner on the second floor, which is surrounded by windows for people-watching. Down the street is a church that usually hosts weddings every Saturday. Today's wedding party is the best I've seen. The groom and his groomsmen each wore black Dick Tracy hats with white bands. They rented out two limousines, one Navigator and one Hummer, complete with spinning rims. It would have been more entertaining if the bride has a tight Jessica Rabbit dress, but alas, she wore traditional white.

the inexact science of the elite

Princeton Review released the results of its annual law school survey today, which asks students questions about their school's academic environment, their career prospects, and the extent to which their professors rock. My school found itself in the top three of three lists, which made me laugh. What made me laugh more was overhearing my classmates revel in our rankings, as if these arbitrary lists will make an actual change at our school. Our school is good as it is. We'd probably round up some more applications and alumni donations if we went up a few spots in the U.S. News Report, but otherwise, I find the gerbil-wheel pursuit of elite-hood to be nauseating.

Malcolm Gladwell (The Tipping Point, Blink) wrote an article for the New Yorker discussing "the social logic of Ivy League admissions." Through a brief history of admissions at Harvard, he highlights the fact that entrance among the elite depends on a highly subjective process -- which, I believe, characterizes just about every situation in life where people compete for positions, whether it's in a sorority or a college or a firm or a non-profit. If anyone doubts that our society is not a meritocracy, just ask this lady:

don't call them siamese turtles

what to do

I made a new school year's resolution not to eat candy, and five weeks in, I've stuck to it. I'm in a bit of a quandary, though, because the law review editorial board* decided to stock our office full of delicious candy. Instead of chalky Smarties or tasteless Mexican gum, they lined the shelves with Jolly Ranchers, M&Ms (regular AND mini), and Sour Ropes, just to name a few. I discovered this treasure trove this morning and have been debating all day whether to break my personal candy-fast.

The reasoning behind this decision goes like this: Because cafeteria food sucks and because I am cheap, I will likely eat candy for dinner. Although this was not a significant problem during my first year, my current average of 80 hours/week on campus increases the likelihood that I will resort to a three-course meal of Snickers (protein), Skittles (fruit), and Sweettart Chewies (dessert). The resulting sugar rush will accelerate an already-rapid-fire attention span and thus prematurely end my legal career. Furthermore, each little unnecessary calorie will attach itself to my butt and -- combined with the long hours sitting at the library -- will create what my ex-boyfriend's parents affectionately called a "secretarial spread." (No offense to secretaries.) Finally, dropping change into vending machines every day will slowly bleed me of funds that I need without the benefit of any nutritional value.

To recap, eating candy leads to eating candy for dinner, which leads to (1) a bad study habit, (2) a big butt, and (3) no money.

I started off this post with the intention to weigh the importance of the three reasons with the hope that the result would have rationalized the end of my candy-fast. However, given that I'm surrounded by incredibly-thin Angeleno women on a daily basis, the possibility of a secretarial spread is enough deterrence to keep me from the free candy. Thank you for walking me through this difficult decision.

*Ironically, our current issue is a symposium on food marketing and the negative effects it has on nutrition, and one article specifically addresses the link between the amount of candy in school vending machines and child obesity. I don't want to be the smartass who brings this up, though.

pet peeve: typos

I hate seeing typos in my casebooks, especially when the mistakes are relatively easy to catch, such as not capitalizing the first letter of a sentence. It irks me because I pay a heck of a lot for these books, which entitles me to pristine print. The sloppiest textbook of all time is Cohen, Varat, & Amar's Constitutional Law, Cases and Materials. Not only does that book cost $110, weigh ten-plus pounds, and have a terrible structure, but it also contains an inordinate number of capitalization omissions that the bat-blind proofreaders somehow missed. I have a little shitfit every time I see one.

Disclaimer: Do NOT point out my own typos on this blog. If, however, you find typos in the articles that I cite-check for law review, feel free to thoroughly and mercilessly mock me.

P.S. Irony = Blogger's spellchecker does not recognize 'blog.'