On Soccer and Shish Kebabs

The stage was set. Clashing factions met on the laminated-wood battlefield, one-legged plastic armies poised to deliver the red polyurethane sphere into the hearts of their enemies. Glistening steel rods reflected the determination of the combatants, shining with the pureness of their very souls. Each had one goal in mind: be the first to five. Each "click" of the wooden shields was one step closer to victory, or one step closer to defeat. The tension was palpable. Those present were ready to snap at a moments notice. Muscles twitched in anticipation. Unblinking eyes focused intently on that table. And it began.

It was over almost as quickly as it began. A blur of red, black and yellow was all that could be seen...at least to the untrained eye. To the hardened veterans observing the carnage, it all moved in slow motion. Every move so precise, every decision so meticulous. A display of skill nine months in the making, as though this point had been gestating since the men first met. A paternity test of talent, with each contestant hoping to be the father.

But in the end, only one team could win. One duo would arise from the blood and ashes to claim victory. Dripping with sweat and elation, they would proudly proclaim themselves as champions. Their names to be carved into the purest of metals mounted upon most sacred wood, proudly proclaiming their victory.

It was over. A baby cried in the distance. As the smoke cleared, two men emerged. Who were these gods among men, you ask? D-Rock and Montgomery.

That's right: Yours Truly, in conjuction with Rockington Worchester Smythe, claimed victory in the 2006 University of Arizona College of Medicine Foosball Doubles Tournament. Our names will be commemorated on a plaque in the student lounge for all eternity. It was a glorious day.

Semi-finals: best of 3. After a slow start against Devin and Jimmy, we came back to defeat them 2-1 in the series. Wait, that isn't fair. Replace "a slow start" with "Montgomery playing like absolute crap" in that sentence. D-Rock tried to salvage the flmaing wreckage that was my gameplay, but we still lost. But I got my act together to win the next two games. We even skunked 'em in the last game (skunk = 5-0 victory).

After a Sausage Deli lunch break, we came back for the finals: best of 5. The case of Montgomery/D-Rock v Ah Jota/Honey Bees (539 US 558). In a rarely seen unanimous 9-0 decision, the Supreme Foosball Court found in favor of Montgomery/D-Rock. Skunked the first game, defeated in the next two, Ah Jota and Honey Bees hung their heads and left the room. We won!

That is one of the proudest days in my life. Top 5, at least. When I start applying for residencies, I'm putting "2006 UA CoM Foosball Doubles Champion" under Awards & Nominations. I want to work at a place that appreciates that accomplishment. And I've been told that pediatrics, internal medicine and family medicine places enjoy unique stuff like that.

You might not appreciate the importance of foosball. Besides being the game of kings, it also builds hand-eye coordination. The Department of Statistics Montgomery Pulled Out of His Ass released a study saying foosball playing doctors perform 67% better than non-foos docs. Further, I was reading Highlights for Kids magazine (shut up), and they interviewed a neurosurgeon. He said he built his coordination by playing foosball in college, and they even named a move after him. So take that.

Speaking of naming moves, we do that all the time. Here's a list of some of the most popular names for stuff:
Allan Serve: giving the ball to the other team on the serve. Allan's signature move.
Armegeddon: scoring a goal while singing "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith
Asian Wall Pass: passing the ball to your next row by bouncing it off the wall
Buzz saw: a shot which bounces off the defender, but goes into the goal because of the crazy amount of spin pushing it forward again
Change-up: scoring with a very slow moving shot. Adds insult to injury.
Colanization: scoring with one quick shot right off the serve. My signature move. Aka "the boo shot"
Deep Impact: being scored on while singing "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith
DGP: Double Game Point; score of 4-4; next shot wins
Dyerhea: accidentally scoring on yourself. Ah Jota's signature move (his last name is Dyer)
Going Allan: random spinning and hitting (and often swearing) with no thought or planning. Typical of Allan at any time, arises in others during moments of frustration.
Grundle: pinching the ball behind your player, then squeezing it forward to give it mad spin and mad speed
The Jeremy: putting all your weight on the rod as you take a swing, bending it in the process. Jerk. Usually followed by a totally accidental goal and the phrase, "It's not an accident if you practice"
The Jimmy Deere: passing back and forth between goalie row and full back row, ended with a quick shot from the goalie row. Obviously, Jimmy's signature move. If the shot is from the full back row, it's a "Reverse Jimmy Deere"
Pinch: bouncing the ball off the wall directly adjacent to the goal, at which point it bounces off the goalies back and into the goal. Pioneered by Devin. My favorite shot.
Plinko: a shot from one goalie across the field bouncing off of multiple players along the way and into the goal.
Rock-a-Bye: bouncing the ball back and forth until the defender "falls asleep," then scoring
The Rollover: pinching the ball in front of your player, then rolling it over as you smack it hard. A very difficult move. Used mostly by 2nd years, Devin and AJ.
Sawa: reaching onto the table to move the ball with your hands. Devin's signature move.
Sex Panther: like Colanization, but the ball has to soar through the air and into the goal. So named because "60% of the time, it works every time"
The Stossel: Scoring while using your crossed middle and index fingers to create a John Stossel-esque mustache on your face
The Stinger: hitting the ball as hard as you can from the goalie row, sometimes scoring on the opponent, sometime on yourself. Honey Bees signature move.
Trash: an unplanned score. Aka slop aka garbage
Whitey Wall Pass: a straight pass up the field along the wall. No style or spice.

That might get updated - I probably forgot some. We name things constantly because it's amusing.

Speaking of amusing, we got a laugh out of a kid in the room during the semi-finals. It was some 8-10 year old watching us play. This is what transpired:
AJ: Is your name Max?
Kid: No. (hereafter he will be referred to as Max)
AJ: Would you like it to be?
Max: Not really.
Somebody: What're you up to?
Max: My mom's a fourth year. I'm waiting for her to finish giving a talk.

And then there was some idle chit chat. Later, his mom showed up and they started to leave the room.

AJ: Bye, Max.
Mom: (quizzical look) Did you just call him Max?
AJ: Yeah
Mom: Why?
AJ: He told us his name was Max.
Mom: (to us) His name is Caleb.
Mom: (to Max) Did you tell them your name was Max? Why would you do that?
Max: I didn't...(look of panic; attempts to clarify)
Mom: Let's go. (possible annoyance)

They leave.

Us: He didn't really...
But I don't think she heard us. We got worried that the poor Max was going to get grounded, beaten or punished in some other way. Oh well. That's life, Max.

All in all, a very fun and amusing day. Oh, and if you see me around, try not to bow. I'll get embarrassed.


...I need to see the 1981 film Long Shot

Sneaking Suspicion

Yesterday I was happy all afternoon, which is odd because I was studying all afternoon. Maybe because I was at Coffee Xchange, and I wasn't so much "studying" as "sipping a tasty Arnold Palmer, staring at Legal Counsel." By the way, the Arnold Palmer is my new favourite drink. Half tea, half lemonade, all delicious. Much like the man himself.

But then I accompanied LC back to the law school so she could go to class, and I moved my studying to the med library: Purple Room. Accompanying me on this migration was a bad case of the blahs, maybe secondary to a Case of the Mondays. So I was sitting there, staring at my notes, feeling blah. Not unhappy or upset, just blah. So I log onto iChat to see if anybody is online. That's when I get a message from Legal Counsel announcing her craving for popped maize.

Well, there's one solution to both our problems: the movies! Killing two dissidents with one Gitmo, you could say. But there were no good movies playing at good times in the El cheapo theatres. And Tucson's non-cheapos are $8.75 with no student discount.

Well, there's one solution to both that problems: movie hopping! The age old tradition of paying for one film but watching two. Quick historical lesson: this practice dates back to Roman times when freedmen would pay to watch Christians be eaten by lions, then hide in the vomitorium until the gladiatorial combat began. I ran the idea by Legal Counsel and she was in/up/down. We'd see Lucky Number Slevin, then sneak into Scary Movie 4 or Ice Age 2.

Before going to the theatre, we decided to spice up our theft/trespassing with a little smuggling. We stopped by Base Camp Target to acquire some candies. The contraband in question: Red Vines and Raisinettes - a little R&R. I purchased the swag and jammed it into my pockets. Perk of being a boy: our pants/shorts have large numbers of massive pockets. I've become Legal Counsel's purse (Annyong!). Before you question it: yes, we did pick the candy in the biggest box and the box with the loudest rattle.

Speaking of rattles, as we were walking to the theatre there was a leaf or something being blown in circles by escaping air conditioning. To me it sounded like a rattlesnake, so I looked over with my cat-like ninja reflexes. Phew, just a leaf. Then LC heard it and looked over, too. I asked her, "Did you think it was rattlesnake?" She replied with, "I was more worried it was a junebug." Sigh. I already knew she's more afraid of butterflies than bees, now I know she's more afraid of junebugs than snakes. Weird. My theory: with snakes and bees, you know they're dangerous; with butterflies and junebugs, you don't know what they're going to do.

So we buy our tickets, grab some popcorn and go see the movie. I'd recommend Lucky Number Slevin it's funny, action-y and keeps you interested...y. Although I felt like it was trying to be a Tarantino movie, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. But nobody can do Tarantino better than Tarantino. Except maybe D-Rock's mom.

The movie finishes and we plan our crime. Scary Movie 4 was playing on the same side of the cineplex - score. But in two different theatres - damn. So we pop into each of the options. One is still playing, the other is showing the pre-movie ads. Option the latter is probably more likely to start soon, but we don't really know. And it didn't start for another 50 minutes - scheize! Plan B - Ice Age 2.

I'd like to take a moment to discuss my Movie Hopping History (MHH). My mom used to make me do it when I was a kid. She also made me pretend to be under 10 for the kids tickets even as I was in puberty/past puberty. In both cases, I was always really nervous and embarassed (my aunt would jaoke about the Movie Police). It's a lot more difficult to movie hop in an 8 theatre place than a 20 theatre place, let me say. And I remember hopping with friends in high school, still nervous. But doing it now - no worries. What're they gonna do, kick me out? I haven't lost anything. I'm not sure where the change in attitude comes from...

Back to the story: Ice Age 2 was on the other side of the complex. Complications... Plus, the two custodial teenagers had already seen LC and I loitering around several different theatres. The plan: re-visit the concession stand as a segue to the other side. As we were waiting at the register, the ticket lady kept staring at us. Staring with those beedy, suspicious eyes. Witch. I started getting paranoid and suspicious. I sent Legal counsel towards the other theatre to see if a chase ensued. Nothing. We should be safe. Yeah, I used my girlfriend as bait. What of it?

We make our way to theatre 13 and waltz on in. Totally empty. A thin layer of dust coated all the seats, crickets chirped in the background and a tumbleweed tumbled by. Do they even play the movie if no tickets are sold? Will they check to make sure it's empty? Abort! Abort! Escape plan alpha! Run, Legal Counsel, run! Crap, the custodial teenager was accessing the custodial closet, directly outside the theatre door! We could be spotted!

So we ducked back into the shadows and waited for the all clear. After a few minutes of "If I don't make it out alive, know that I love you"s, I looked out the door's window. Nothing in sight or earshot. Then Legal Counsel shoved me out, whispering, "see if it's clear" as she went back into hiding. It was clear. So we escaped.

We decided to loiter around some other theatres, just to make sure nobody would go into Ice Age 2. Then two people went in - shibby! But they exited immediately - damn! They must be fellow theatre hoppers, making the same discovery we did. I gave a chuckle as they slinked into a new movie which had long since started. They are dedicated to the cause.

We figured that we'd snuck around enough that we might start drawing suspicion. Time to cut our losses and leave. Lessons learned: there are no people going to see a kid's movie at 10:15p on a Monday night. Who'd a thought? Next time, we'll go on a Friday or Saturday. Maybe we can pay matinee prices and get a double feature.

To make up for our full price admission, we went back to Target. I faked a seizure while Legal Counsel stole about 20 copies of From Justin to Kelly. Take that, Hollywood!

Jury Doodie

Somehow all the safety measures failed and Legal Counsel was allowed on a jury. I really don't know how, she has so many strikes against her.

1. She's a law student
     (a) she has interned in prosecution
          I. she's doing it again this summer 
             with capital litigation
     (b) she wants to continue with prosecution 
          after graduating
2. She's been the victim of a crime (stolen car, 
    to be specific)
3. She has friends and family in law 
    enforcement
4. She practices vigilante justice with a mask, cape, 
    utility belt and sword
     (a) she killed a guy just for littering
5. Her first words upon entering the court were, 
    "Let's fry this sucker."

So I don't know why either lawyer chose her, especially the defense. It's never good when members of the jury are smarter than counsel. I think they were both gambling that she would side with them, and her specific knowledge would allow her to sway the remaining jury members. A bold move.

They always say that it's a "jury of your peers." Is a well educated law student (who has to pass a character fitness section of the Bar) really the peer of a criminal? Wouldn't the peer of...oh, I don't know...a guy who kills people and stores their organs in hollowed out pumpkins be other guys who practice gourd mummification? To solve this problem, i looked up the definition of "peer." The number one definition of peer n. in my dictionary widget is:

a member of the nobility in Britain or Ireland, comprising the ranks of Duke, marquess, earl, viscount, and baron

Well there you have it. If you commit a crime, your life is in the hands of the Earl of Salisbury.

I'm not sure exactly what I can say about the case without violating privacy (although this guy's got different kinds of violation to worry about now), so I'll use the medical presentation style.

Defendant Z.M., a French Citizen, was arrested on or around 16 August 2001 and charged with immigration violation. Upon further investigation, new evidence was discovered. Additional charges were filed including conspiracy to commit terrorism and taking candy from babies.

It's a pretty small case and it wasn't publicized, you've probably never heard of it. I think the guy knows Areenos, though. Can you imagine being a juror in that case?? How would the defense find unbiased jurors? "Do you live in a cave as a hermit?" Damn. "Do you love America?" Damn "Will you cut us a break?" Damn. "I found this briefcase full of cash - did you drop it? Wink"

I'd like to say that this is the first time anybody I know has been on a trial that wasn't a DUI. Whenever other people get summons'd, it's a DUI every time. Those cases have the best defenses: "I ate some bread," "It makes me drive better," "Damn it, I'm a Kennedy!" Legal Counsel's case went on for three days - again, the longest jury duty stint I've ever heard of. She hit the jury jackpot.

Her case broke down to he said/she said and the Chewbacca defense. She found the defendant guilty on three counts and not guilty on three counts. Both lawyers did a cartoony double take and their eyes bugged out. Legal Counsel knew that you can't convict a guy for assault if the "victim" doesn't know they're being assaulted. That's what you get for putting a lawyer on the jury. He was convicted of assault for the other victims and for felony in possession of a firearm. He's probably not going to a White Collar Resort Prison. More like a Federal Pound-me-in-the-ass prison. No conjugal visits.

The following week I got to play defendant in Legal Counsel's Trial Advocacy final. She and J-Bone kicked ass. Too bad the jury decision was just a "who's friends with who" decision. And based on the contract in dispute, I was pretty much boned from the beginning. Especially with a jury full of lawyers. So despite being better at examining the witnesses, making objections, making opening/closing statements, entering Xzibit into evidence and having a better presence, J-Bone and Legal Counsel lost. To be fair, the opposing counsel did have matching ties. So they had that going for them, which is nice. It was a civil trial...bo-ring.

The solution to all these jury and trial issues: Judge Dredd.

There's more of deep-fried twinkie than of grave about you, whatever you are!

The events of this morning/afternoon: breakfast with Legal Counsel at her sister's restaurant (Cindy Lou's - delicious), studying at Epic, fly-on-the-wall at a transgender needs assesment focus group (more on this in the future, I'm sure), eating a sandwich of Epic proportions, more studying, done at 3:something. That's a pretty fruitful afternoon. But we were sick of studying, so we went home and took a nap to recharge our study batteries (Stutteries™). Let me say that Epic must put something funny in there sandwiches, because I had a weird nap-dream.

Somehow, and I don't remember how, Legal Counsel and I were invited to dinner at the house of Britney and K-Fed. That's weird enough already, right? Well, their house was in the neighborhood where my grandparents used to live. My childhood memories neighborhood (I grew up with my grandparents). And for some reason, a circa 1920s mobster car was screeching around the block shooting stuff. All in all, a pretty messed up setting.

The inside of the house was totally white-trashed out. Clothes and beer cans all over the place, cinder block/particle board entertainment center, weed-filled yard, car on blocks...the whole nine. While we were in the house, Britney and K-Fed were being jerks to us. Oh, and K-Fed was in a wife-beater with a big gut hanging out and pit stains.

From the moment we got there, Sean Preston was crying upstairs. I asked if anybody was going to attend, and Britney snapped "He'll be fine. He does this all the time." I wanted to yell at her, but for some reason I didn't. Eventually she grumbled, "I hate this brat" and stomped upstairs. The stairs were lined with half empty paint cans.

At this point LC and I went to see K-Fed, who was cooking the dinner for some reason. You'd expect a chef, right? Well, he was cooking a turkey in a Crock Pot, which I've never heard of. I also think he was drunk. We started talking and somehow the subject of Legal Counsel not eating mammals came up. He then got all pissed off and said, "So, you think you're better than us? To good for my cooking?" And there wasn't even any mammal meat in the dinner! The baby was still crying upstairs.

He was all pissed off, so he went to the fridge and grabbed a package of bacon. The nasty looking turkey soup concoction was already scooped into individual bowls (plastic bowls with Smurfs on the bottom, in fact), and he started throwing bacon into all the bowls. Then he grabbed what looked to be uncooked cow foreshank and started wringing the juices into the bowls. Then he grabbed one of the turkey/bacon/beef juice bowls and tossed it onto the table where we were sitting, splashing the stuff onto Legal Counsel's shirt.

I finally had enough and started yelling at him for being a dick. He started yelling at me that I wasn't important because I wasn't famous. I yelled that he was only famous because he married B-Spears and that he's the laughing stock of the world. He started approaching me, so I drew a fist back for a punch. Just then, he dropped to the floor and screamed "not in the face." At the same time, Britney entered the room and started immasculating K-Fed for being a coward. Legal Counsel was laughing at the whole situation. Legal Counsel and I were walking toward the door...

And then I woke up.

I swear that everything I just said is exactly what was in my dream. I have to say it's one of the weirdest dreams I've ever had. It's what I imagine a Lakota tribe member would see on a vision quest if they were given 24/7 exposure to Extra or the E! channel. I'm glad I remembered it.

Back to studying...

QFT

I'm in class for the first time this week, and I'm already distracted. Big surprise. Class isn't for learning, I say, it's for blogging. Class = blogging, out of class = learning. Don't question it.

I'd like to point out that none of the usual gang is here. I'm going to go ahead and believe that the only reason they come to class is to see me. No Colan = no attendance. That's very sweet, guys. But now I'm lonely...

I don't have time for a real post right now. So much time and so little to do. No wait - strike that, reverse it. But I will recreate one of Areenos' blog posts that I had a hand in creating:

Legal Counsel, Areenos and I were sitting around the house. As is common, LC and I were probably making fun of Areenos and about how evil she is. She started talking, in her joking whiny voice, about how mean we are to her. That's how the "How mean is Areenos" contest began.

Legal Counsel: We can do better.
Areenos: Sounds good, let's see it. (she's a masochist, apparently)
Montgomery: It's on.

M: She once consumed a baby in one sitting.
LC: She once punted a puppy across a football field.
M: Kitten...blender...Areenos...true story.
LC: She poisoned Mother Theresa.
M: ...before consuming her.
LC: She said she would donate to the Red Cross, but just bought a latte instead.
M: She hit jimmy Carter with a couch.
LC: *something clever that the stenographer missed*
M: After the Exxon Valdez disaster, she offered to clean the oil off animals - only so she could spill oil on them again.
LC: She was asked to be an executioner, but she refused to wear the mask.
M: Areenos invented the bird flu.
LC: She painted a nursery in lead.
M: She once burned down an orphanage just to light a cigarette.
LC: Areenos often steals sandwiches from the homeless.
M: Did you know the phrase "taking candy from a baby" originated from Areenos?
LC: Areenos once threw up in a funeral plot.
M: When Moussaoui took the stand, he gave a shot out to Areenos.
LC: Jimmy Hoffa disappears, Areenos appears. Coincidence?
M: She's the second greatest producer of greenhouse gases in the western hemisphere.
LC: *laughing*
M: She was the Executive Producer of The Anna Nicole Smith Show.

At this point, Legal Counsel and I were laughing our asses off. Laughing too hard to see Areenos run out of the room crying. This was a fun game.

EDIT - she didn't really cry. She was laughing harder than we were. But saying she cried is funnier. In the "How Mean is Areenos" contest, everybody is a winner...except Areenos.

Random thoughts while studying

If you're a vegetarian for moral reasons (i.e. "it's wrong to eat animals") and you're craving fish, can you murder a shark and go eat a tuna sandwich? It'll more than balance out, really. You kill the shark and eat one fish, that's two animal deaths. That shark would've eaten hundreds of fish in its lifetime, so really you just saved hundreds of fish. Net gain of ~199 fish over doing nothing. Plus, you can eat the shark. They're delicious. Go to Anthony's in San Diego, you'll see.

Why do Sun Dried Tomatoes still exist?

Lots of students in my class went into medicine for money and prestige. They'll never admit it, but it's true. They often give me funny looks when I say that I'm considering pediatrics or internal medicine as a specialty, since the pay isn't as high (they still pay really well, in my opinion). I've even been asked how much money I want to make. I've come up with an answer to that: I want to make enough money that I don't need to use the "Sort by price" option on Travelocity type websites. Now that's wealth. If I'm really well off, I might even use it in the reverse direction. Ooohhh.....

Why does the coffee Exchange on Tanque Verde have so many flies? It's like Discount Fly Warehouse over there.

I saw a bumper sticker on my way to Bentley's which read, "All students are honored students at Tucson's Waldorf School." If you're a parent and your kid brings that home, how do you react? "Congratulations...?" I think that if everybody is honored, nobody is. As I was typing that, I got worried that it was a school for special children and that I was being offensive and insensitive. So I looked it up to be safe, and it looks like a school for special parents. It's the kind of place that would give you a crocodile in Spelling.

On a similar note, I don't think I'd ever put the "honor student" sticker on my car if I had a kid - my mom never did it (I think it's just because my family is anti-bumper sticker). Doesn't it just teach your kid to be boastful? In fact, I'll do the opposite: if they get bad grades, I'll custom print a sticker which reads, "My child is too stupid for words :(" and put it on my Civic hybrid.

Ugh boots and track suits
Sorority girls wear you
I do not know why

I also saw a sticker this morning which read, "If everybody in the world was blind, nobody would know who to hate." What?? Is this guy saying we should remove the eyes of every human on the planet? And I question the accuracy of his statement. I think we'd start discriminating based on accent. Especially in the case of North Dakota-ites...North Dakota-ins...North Dakotans. We'd blindly round them into camps so they could only initiate pleasant conversation with each other. But they'd be blind and think they were still in the suburbs...suckers.

I swear Bentley's mocha is just chocolate milk...

The one thing I've learned in med school is that I can't learn in med school. Give me the material and I can figure it out on my own, but sit me in class and I space out within ten minutes. I have to leave the med school to learn medicine. Kinda like that Shawshank quote, modified.

Cornbread - ain't nothin' wrong with that.


Maybe I'll add more thoughts as I continue studying...

See what I'm talking about?

That guy...

Po, po, po, po, Popozao...oh god, I dropped Sean again

I try to not turn my blog into commentary on celebrities or entertainment news. Why? Well frankly, there are thousands of people who already do that. And it's way too easy. The jokes practically write themselves. Case in point: Tom Cruise. His Kafka-esque metamorphosis from "why the hell am I a sex symbol" little person to "batshit crazy" little person is nearing completion. Step 1: become a Scientologist. Step 2: make claims like "women shouldn't scream during childbirth" and "I can cure a heroin addict in three days" Step 3: crazy as a road lizard. I could probably write a whole blog on Tom Cruise alone: praising him up until 1990, then documenting his slow transition into madness. If I spent all my time discussing how pathetic celebrities can be, how would I make time to talk about how pathetic I am?

Oh god, here come the law suits. Legal Counsel, protect me!

But every once in a while, an item crosses my path that I have to discuss. If you saw a 2,000 lek note sitting on the ground, wouldn't you pick it up? Similarly, if America's favorite hillbilly couple was visited by Child Protective Services, shouldn't I at least mention it?

According to the official story, baby Sean Preston (Sean after Goonies star Sean Astin and Preston after Jackass sidekick Preston Lacy) was dropped by the nanny, who was lifting him from the chair. Let me note that I imagine the nanny to be a donkey with a cell phone duck-taped to its flank. At that point the baby fell headfirst onto the concrete floor. And somehow the chair broke in the process - aka, we couldn't get our story straight. "Uh...the chair broke and he fell and the baby sitter dropped him and there was an earthquake and the aliens done pushed him over." I'll just run with the premise that the story is true, even though I assume one of the hillbillies dropped him.

Some doctor, who isn't worth his weight in beans I'd imagine, checked him out and said he was fine. Let me note that I imagine the doctor to be wearing hole-covered, oversized brown pants lifted up by suspenders and no shirt. "I may not be a big city doctor, but that there baby is fakin' it." After six (6) days, they took the baby into the hospital for examination and found out he had a concussion. A friggin' consussion!

I'll admit that a consussion in children is difficult to see. Sleeplessness, vomiting, fussiness (from headaches, etc). Hell, Joelean has all those things all the time...except her vomit is pure acid capable of melting NASA-grade titanium. But If I was rich and I dropped my baby headfirst from at least three feet onto a concrete floor, I'd use my gold-plated helicopter or rocketpack to get the kid into an ER within 5 seconds. Even if I wasn't rich - I'd just take my silver-plated pogo stick. But not Britney and K-Fed. No, they wait through six days of symptoms (which should have cleared up within 20 minutes in the case of a normal fall) before going in. She probably used her magic pseudo-Kabbalah powers to cure him. "I reckon a red string around his wrist should keep demons from eating his brain juices." Or maybe they were in a drunken stupor for 6 days...

Well, the CPS agent came in and cleared them of any wrongdoing. On a totally unrelated note, that agent retired the next day and purchased a house in Hawaii. So officially they didn't do anything wrong. You know, except for putting a high chair over concrete floor, hiring a nanny who is uncoordinated enough to drop a baby, waiting 6 days to give the baby a full check-up and *probably* trying to get Sean Preston to smoke a cigarette (cause then he'd be the coolest baby in LA).

On the plus side, if this baby manages to survive another few years it'll be the toughest damn kid ever. He has to be - his parents aren't as smart as him. Think of the things he's fought through so far: smoking during pregnancy, near-Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, being driven without a seat belt, and now a straight-up skull dive. It's like a one-family survival of the fittest experiment. I figure he'll be smoking cigars and fighting crime by age 13, deflecting bullets and stopping wars by 18, and personally kicking the ass of every person who purchased a copy of Popozao by age 21.

This actually could be a scheme cooked up by Cheney (Dick, not Scott) himself (Dubya is too busy playing with Ball-in-a-Cup). "We give orphan babies to Spears and Federline until one of them survives to puberty. A baby that tough is a resource too valuable to pass up. Next, we steal the kid (the parents will never notice) and lock him underground. I'll brainwash him into seeing me as his true father. I'll call him...Penis Cheney. Yes, that'll do nicely. Next, we train him with all the best CIA/FBI/NSA/Haliburton tactics. Finally, we use him to secretly kill liberals. Brilliant! What's that you say? Use him to kill terrorists? Nonsense, they give us too much power. Idiot. Kill that man and feed him to Sean Preston."

Sigh. First Britney convinces millions of girls that it's cool to act stupid and dress slutty. Now she's teaching them how to be a bad parent. Blood...boiling...must kill a Backstreet Boy to quench rage...

See? This is why I don't write about celebrities.

It was a rough place - the seediest dive on the wharf. Populated with every reject and cutthroat from Bombay to Calcutta. It's worse than Detroit.

Spring Fling. Ah, spring fling. A time when UA clubs get to earn a bunch of money by pretending to be carnies. And fortunately, after 4 long years of waiting, I got to be one of those pseudo-carnies.

To complete my carnie image, I stopped bathing a year before my time at the booth. Don't question the fact that I didn't know about my job until last month. I also switched my diet to include only the following: cabbage, candy apples, 64oz sodas, and live chickens. Good times. Then I replaced my teeth with bits of candy corn and wood chips. And finally, I had an active cold sore. They're embarassing and painful, but if I can't discuss it here where can I discuss it? As a side note, I used Aveeno to treat it and this method seemed to work well. And as a bonus, it smelled and tasted exactly like an Otter Pop. Somewhere between Alexander the Grape and Poncho Punch.

Legal Counsel and I were working the Hi-Striker booth for PrideLaw. Hi-Striker is the game in which the pigeons...err, players swing a big mallet and try to send the marker to the top. But this wasn't a simple lever system with a bell at the top. No, this was a fancy pneumatic/electronic contraption which lit up lights instead of sending a weight into the air, didn't have a bell and didn't have a top. Yes, this led to lots of issues with the rednecks...err, players. Take a look:


The key is to hit the plunger right in the middle - that's the sensor location. I would take that as assumed, but apparently the dupes...err, players needed to be told. Believe me, it's not as easy as it sounds. Swinging a 15 pounder accurately can be difficult. But for me it helped if I imagined that a zombie was chasing me and it just tripped over a rock, so I have only one chance to smash its brains (I know, I know - using a sledgehammer against zombies is ridiculous. but I imagined it to be the only item on hand). That strategy also helps me deal with solicitors. So the game is actually a test of both strength and accuracy. In order to win, you need to hit the plunger very hard and dead center.

Mind you, when I say "in order to win" I really mean "in order to get a score which won't result in being made fun of," since you aren't going to win. Seriously, don't even try. I'm not going to say it's impossible...because the carnies would kill me. But in the first two days there were no winners. Not one. The nest day there were some, but it was maybe 1:400.

I kept taking free swings the whole time I was there, and the best I got was 104. To win, you need a 135. A firefighter who claimed to chop wood on Mt. Lemmon got 114. Some scary dude who looked like he spent the last 10-20 in prison getting tattoos and pumping iron got 130. Paul Bunyan got a 76. Jesus got a 54. But oddly enough, the scrawniest of kids would keep getting scores in the 80s.

I kind of felt bad taking tickets from the suckers...err, players. It cost $3 for one swing. And some guys were taking 5 or 6 swings in their vain attempts at success. When it was some drunken idiot or some macho jackass trying to look cool, I didn't care. Or my favorite - the "I think i can do it" guy, who hasn't even seen anybody else try. I was actually kind of amused. But when it was a dad trying to win a toy for his kid, I felt bad. Or the guy who gave up his corndog tickets to try the game. "Go get a corndog, dude" I wanted to say. But I can't break the first rule of Carnie-dom: fuck the guests. Their words, not mine.

As I said earlier, having the pneumatic/electronic system caused problems. Greenhorns...err, players kept saying it was rigged...and I couldn't really deny it. It wasn't rigged in the "you can't win" way. It was rigged in the "you won't win" way. So questioning the system was understandable. But these "people" were nuts. Bitching and whining about not winning. Listen, dude, you're at a carnival. All the games are set up to favor the carnie folk. Do you bitch about not winning at a casino? Do you complain about Taco Bell giving you the green apple splatters? Do you complain about getting an STD from D-Rock's mom? No. It's just expected. Here's some more news: the hoops aren't regulation size, the bottles are weighted and that isn't beef. The prizes sucked anyway. So get over it.

One of the worst things about working there was stooges...err, people asking over and over...and over and over if they can have a free swing. No you can't have a free swing! We wouldn't make any money if we gave everybody free swings! "But if I win I won't take a prize." News flash, jerk, you're not going to win. And you'd know that before paying if we let you have free swings. Sigh. Eventually I wanted to start asking if I could take free swings at them. But that would ruin the surprise. Whammy!

The worst was this one guy. This fucking guy. Pardon my language, but he deserves it. If you were wearing camouflage pants, a grey sweatshirt and an ugly face to Spring Fling Friday night, you're the biggest jackass ever. He came up and got an 87 or something low like that. He spent the rest of the night asking for free swings because he "knows he can do better." I was tempted to let him have a swing so he'd do worse and look like an idiot. As he was walking away (the first time) he said "nobody can do better than that." Obviously I stpped up and did better. Dumbass. He came back at least 4 times asking for free swings. I've never wanted to kill a non-zombie so bad in my life.

The high point of the game was watching little kids do the mini version of the game. It was the low-tech lever version. And all kids got a free inflatable squeaky hammer when they played. Little kids are cute. Until they hit 8-10. Then they get annoying. If Paul Bunyan couldn't win, why would you? By the way, there are crazy numbers of overweight children. And parents. And other people. Rednecks are unhealthy.

There were three colors of hammers for kids: yellow, pink and blue. Apparently, everybody watched the color picking habits of kids like I did. Girls pick pink or yellow, boys pick blue. Almost always. And when a little boy went for pink, his parents would usually stop him. He's going to be a closet case all his life, Legal Counsel postulated. It's probably true. Come on parents, just let the boy pick the color he likes. Strangely, nobody stopped girls from choosing blue. Weird...

All in all, a fun and interesting evening. Lessons learned:
1. I'm not cold and heartless enough to be a carnie. And my hygiene is slightly too good
2. People are stupid and overweight
3. Little kids swinging a hammer: cute, but scary
4. Parents try to dictate gender roles on kids
5. That guy: needs to be hit by a truck
6. Carnie games: definitely rigged (already known, just further confirmed)
7. 1 in 3 snakebite victims is drunk. 1 in 5 is tattooed

Turnaround, Bright Eyes

Reason I love Legal Counsel #10,486: she's willing to do crazy, unexpected things with me at a moment's notice.
Reason I love Legal Counsel #1,955: she knows exactly how to cheer me up.

Last week I was feeling blah. No reason, just blah. Legal Counsel, being the loving GF that she is, suggested that we go to Disneyland. Sweet! So my eyes lit up like a deer in headlights...wait, that's not a good analogy. My eyes lit up like the fires of hell. I guess that's better.

Anyway, I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to find a decent hotel for the night. The problem is that hotels.com and Travelocity don't really list hotels that charge by the hour. I was tempted to call D-Rock's mom to ask her, but I was worried that her STDs have become so strong that I might catch them over the phone. I found a couple good places, but they were all kind of expensive. That's when Legal Counsel had a little light bulb shining over her head: turnaround trip! Damn it, "my eyes lit up like lightbulbs" - that would have been good. Why is the lightbulb over the head the symbol for having an idea? Who came up with that? Before the 20th century, was it a candle? That could be dangerous...

I told hotels.com to go to hell and smashed my computer. In hindsight, I shouldn't have done that. We formed a plan: leave Tucson at about 2am, drive to The Happiest Place on Earth™, live it up all day, then drive back at around 10p. Brilliant! I can see no flaws in driving while sleep deprived. None at all. So after a day in which I woke up at 7am, I went home at 7p to try for 6 hours sleep. I probably got about 5.

At 2 in the morning, we blast off for Disneyland! Hooray! I was able to stay awake for the whole drive. Legal counsel, not so much. We made it there about an hour after the park opened and left about an hour before it closed. Translation, a kickass 10am-10pm day of fun at Walt's place! Here are some random observations:

We had lunch at this delicious Soup/Sandwich place on Main Street, USA. While eating, we saw this kid. I'm not sure if this photo shows it very well, but this kid was balding. Not just the normal, "Look at me, I'm a baby and I don't have all my hair yet." We're talking receding hairline. It's never a good sign when you're 3 years old and you've got the combover going on. Sure he's still cute now, but by the time he reaches high school he's going to be That Guy who looks 40. You know the one.

I find it a little disturbing that Disney advocates the consumption of Mickey Mouse. You have about 30 different opportunities to eat his brains: cookies, pretzels, ice cream sandwiches, cookies, fries, etc. I chose to feast upon pretzel-ified Mickey. At least i dipped him in cheese first. I figure that would be a mouse's final meal if it was on death row. Which he was. (he killed that guy on Big Thunder Mountain, but don't tell anybody or he'll send Pluto to maul your ass)

Mission Tortilla Factory: best ride ever.

Sourdough bread bowl: best invention ever.

Legal Counsel, my girlfriend, is impersonating Francis: a ladybug who is actually a guy. Is she trying to tell me something?

We hopped on Space Mountain, full of high hopes. Then some peri-pubescent kids hopped on in front of us. I think one of the most awkward conversations you can have with your kid is the one where you tell them they need to start wearing deodorant. How do you tell your kid they stink? It might be more awkward than "the birds and the bees" or "why you're not allowed in the basement and why you hear screams from there." But people: you need to do it. You see chubs in front of me? He smelled horrible. A mixture of feet, BO and D-Rock's hand. Vomitusting. And it was a roller coaster, so his arms were up the whole time. Jibbly. If it was a cartoon, little green stink lines would trace the whole Space Mountain track. Why wouldn't his friends tell him? I was really tempted to break the news to him myself. Legal Counsel and I decided that we'll start putting deodorant on our children at age 2.

All in all, it was a good day. Then we started driving home.

Halfway between LA and Blythe, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw this all up on my ass:

A horrifying semi covered in lights with a terrifying smiley face on the front. Big, bright eyes and a flat yellow mouth. Permanently locked in the face of apathy - as in, "I don't care if I run you over." The worst part: every time I looked in my mirror, he was right there. I passed him, he passed me - no matter what, he was always behind me. I had a panicked Maximum Overdrive/Joy Ride/Wrong Turn/Jeepers Creepers moment. Just ask Legal Counsel: it was a legitimate freak-out. That truck scared the hell out of me. I took that picture so the police would have a lead in solving my murder. Eventually it went away, off to terrorize somebody else. I don't remember how or when, though. It probably drove back to hell through an opening in the ground without anybody seeing. But it still haunts my nightmares...

As we got back into Tucson, I was almost passing out. which is good when you're driving. I drove the entire stretch from Marana to Speedway and I don't remember any of it. I do remember swerving within my lane and Legal Counsel having mini heart attacks, though.

Final verdict: turnaround trips are awesome, but easier when you're riding a bus. And trucks with faces are terrifying.

We've got a piper down! I repeat, the piper is down!

Last night I went to Lawlawpalooza with Legal Counsel and the Scooby Crew (that would be a good band name) at O'Malley's. Lawlawpalooza is the law school's version of Lollapalooza. Lollapalooza is an American music festival created by Perry Ferrell of Jane's Addiction. Jane's Addiction is an American rock band named after Jane Bainter, a heroin addict who lived with the band. Heroin addiction was the subject of the movie Trainspotting with Ewan McGregor. Ewan McGregor was in A Life Less Ordinary with Maury Chaykin. Maury Chaykin was in Where the Truth Lies with Kevin Bacon!

The show was pretty fun. A bunch of law students and one professor performing music to raise funds for Law Journal. The best band was Black Flagg, a two man guitar duo (a la Tenacious D) covering random songs. The best two covers were Hey Ya by Outkast and Warren G by Regulators. Awesome. Andy, you probably don't read this (or even know me), but you rock. I need to get my hands on your concert shirts and CDs.

Then there were a bunch of boring, mediocre bands. Blah. The band with the professor was pretty good, though. He looked like a hippy, so I assumed he taught Human Rights or Civil Rights or Tax Law or some hippy class like that. He teaches contracts. I think he got contracted to rock.

But for me, the highlight of the show was a bagpiper. That's right, an honest to god vampire...I mean bagpiper. This is a good time to tell you all that I love the bagpipes. I mean I really love the bagpipes. Not as much as I love, say, Legal Counsel or my family or apples, but it's pretty high up.

I don't love them just because they're the most annoying musical instrument to most people. To me, the most annoying thing is a drum solo. Shudder. Anyway, I just really like the sound of bagpipes. In all of music-dom, the bagpipes are my king. And I also imagine that going into battle with bagpipes playing would be the ultimate intimidator and morale booster, especially since one bagpiper sounds like 30 people are playing. On top of the psychological factor, the bagpipers in your army would draw all the arrows, making the soldiers safer. And finally, the bagpipes just look damn cool. Yea verily!

I've always wanted to learn how to play "the pipes," as we call them in the biz. But there are several problems. First, they're damn expensive. At least £200 for a mediocre to bad set. I think. I'm not really sure. That's a lot of money to spend on something that's going to end up as a plaid heap in my closet, like that Scottish hobo. Second, and more importantly, how do you practice the bagpipes without getting a caber tossed at you? They're so loud and obnoxious that you're going to annoy people wherever you go, like D-Rock. If people are annoyed by professional pipers, imagine the banshee's shriek which would come from a practicing amateur. Actually, now that I think about it, it probably sounds the same. Bring on the bagpipes!

If you'd like to repay me for the minutes and minutes of merriment my blog has brought you, I say buy me some bagpipes. And some lessons. And a car. And pay off my loans. That way, I'll be free to fulfill my musical dreams of being a professional bagpiper. And make it a good set. With a real tartan for the bag. Morton clan. They're just so damn cool.

RenFest Update
I totally forgot to tell you about this guy at the Renaissance Festival:

He was actually wearing a Confederate States of America shirt! What the hell? Not supporting the movie, either. He was actually supporting the now defunct CSA. Damn rednecks in Arizona. He probably went to RenFest in an effort to relive the "good ol' days" when racism and slavery hadn't even been questioned yet. I wanted Dextre Tripp to throw a chainsaw at him. Some medieval justice, with a modern flair...flaire. This guy's on my list.

Guest Professor Look-a-Like

We've got a guest lecturer in genetics discussing sex determination. His name is Robert P Erickson, MD. Here he is:

My first thought was that he looks like a stegoceras. If you're an amateur archaeologist like myself, you'd recognize that as the name of a bony-headed bipedal dinosaur. Probably my favorite dinosaur (my rock solid, gigantic head creates a bias, I'll admit). Here he is:

Striking, no? I'm pretty sure he actually is one. Maybe a de-evolved Koopa like in the Super Mario Brothers movie. D-Rock and I are waiting for him to ram somebody with his head in self defense.

Some other suggested look-a-likes: Richard Dreyfuss, Robert Duvall and John Malkovich.



But those three are vague at best. Maybe he's the triploid offspring of all three (yay, genetics!). Yes...that would do it. But still, not good enough.

Then it finally hit me. He's Oklahoma City bombing accomplice James Nichols!

Who, if you consult my blog post of 24 October 2005, is also the same person as Ben Bernanke - current chairman of the Federal Reserve (Greenspan wannabe).

So many similarities, so little time.

The dinosaur is the funniest. And most accurate.

Whenever I make these kind of associations, it becomes the only thing I can think about when looking at the professor.