THE MOON: FRIENDLY BALL OF CHEESE, OR MURDEROUS BALL OF DEATH?

I'm sure you, like me, have always looked on the moon with feeling ranging from admiration and wonder to gleeful indifference.

Well all that stopped today for me when I read this TIME Magazine article.  Turns out the moon is not just some neutral mozzarella-orb happily circling the Earth like a friendly, loyal Roomba. Oh no, my friend, when will you OPEN YOUR EYES!?!? The Moon is no friendly Roomba, its . . . A DOOMBA! 

According to the article, the Moon (if that is its real name) actually is partly, if not mostly . . . I'll just wait a moment for you to take a nice big sip of delicious morning coffee before you finish reading this sentence . . . responsible for the sinking of the Titanic!!! Take a second to wipe the coffee off your computer screen, and then read on.

Although apparently the tragic crash and sinking of the Titanic was somewhat a result of poor design and structure of the vessel, the company's pressure to make record time crossing the Atlantic, and the captain's (some say) questionable decision to go full speed through a passage-way known to be cluttered with icebergs, the article opines that "there may, however, have been an unindicted co-conspirator, one that's gone overlooked for all these decades:" (and here I paraphrase a bit), "that asshat of a Moon."  

So apparently, according to some scientific-sounding shit they say in the article, the moon just happened to make its closest passage to the Earth in 1400 years in January of 1912 (the year the unsinkable ship became one of history's greatest ironies). And then, it just so happened that the Earth, at that same exact time, made its closest passage to the Sun (aka the King of Planets) of its annual orbit.

This alignment created some unholy monstrous tidal irregularities known to the scientific community as "spring tides" (also known by some Vatacin-based oceanographers as "Satan's Bathtub"). These "spring tides" are called that because they're unusually high tides, and because they happen in January, get it? (nice naming, scientists). These unusually high tides apparently cause many formerly grounded icebergs to break free. 

One of these freed bergs was the aptly-named DeathBerg III, which started floating in January into the sea, and just happened to make it by April to the channel through which the Titanic, in all of its poorly-designed glory, was barreling at full speed at the behest of its fame-hungry, hubris-sucking creators manned by its reckless and possibly drunk captain.

I know what you're thinking: "apparently the Earth revolves around the Sun now? Ppppffffffffffffffffffffttttttttttttt! Time for me to wipe the coffee of my computer screen again!" But you're also probably thinking, "coincidence? I think not sir!" 

Nay, this is too perfect to be happenstance, and we are not fooled. I think we  know what really happened: this Moon has always been jealous of its older brother the Earth (Steven, to their parents). Then, the tipping point came when an early French film-maker shot a rocket into the Moon's eye. 

The Moon then plotted its revenge on Steven and its inhabitants, waited until it could create the "Satan's Bathtub" tides, and dislodge a giant iceberg (Deathberg III) so that 3 months later it would collide with a big ship and kill a couple thousand people. 

A plan fiendishly clever in its intricacies!! Or the whole thing could just be some boring physics crap no one cares about.

What do you make of this article? Explosive uncovering of a millenia-spanning conspiracy, or boring science shit only nerds who live with their mothers read during work? 

Bucket List cont'd. . . .feat. Sky Dive Out of a Plane After the Pilot Has Been Shot by Mercenaries During A Multi-Continent Treasure Hunting Adventure And Open The Parachute At the Last Possible Second and Survive With Only Minor Scratches

So I have this "ongoing feature" on my blog called Bucket List. It's about my Bucket List (things I want to do before I die from getting gunned down by the US Border Patrol while driving a hijacked Coca-Cola truck for the US-Mexico border at full speed, all jacked up on sweet sweet Coca-Cola (possibly diet, depending on if I'm watching my figure by the time I die)).

What's weird is I can actually claim that this is an "ongoing feature," since I have now been blogging long enough to have visited this topic twice (click here for part 1 of the list and click here for part 2, if you're into that whole continuity/complete-ism thing).

For those of you who don't know, here is an example of a bucket list:

This is a poor example, however, for several reasons. First of all, this person actually appears to have spent more time on actually spelling out the pun of "kicking the bucket" in the title of the list than in the actual creation of their list. In fact, he or she appears to have spent virtually no time working on the list. As you can see, he or she wrote the number 1, and followed it with only an ellipses.

This is just wrong for several reasons.

First, you usually use an ellipses to indicate that whatever comes next is continued from what came before it, only after a slight pause or break. For example, I used an ellipses in the title of this blog. Or, another common example comes from everyday conversations, such as, "You know. . . . if you don't stop humming that goddamn Katy Perry song . . . . I am going to jam a banana up your ass."

But nothing came before the ellipses here. Number 1 is the start of the list. So, whoever reads this list is going to be really confused, like it should have continued from something else, but they won't know what. They might even go looking for another list somewhere to make sure that they aren't missing something important that came before. That just wastes precious time, time the reader doesn't have when they're trying to determine if you achieved your dreams before you died or if you really just totally and completely pissed your life away on meaningless crap like starting lists with ellipses and not actually writing anything else on them.

That brings me to the second thing wrong with this list. There's nothing on it. Here's a quick list-making tip: generally, you want to have some items on any list you are making. Otherwise, it's just a mostly blank piece of paper. At best, it's more like a doodle. Don't put a number 1 if you have nothing to list.

This is especially true of a "bucket" list, which  presumably highlights some deeply held life-long goals you want to accomplish before you "kick the bucket" (as the jerk who wrote this list so hilariously phrased it). Otherwise, why would you even start a bucket list? Doing so kinda makes it seem like you are a loser drifting through life without any purpose or meaning, without any dreams, desires, or ambitions above waking up, stuffing pop tarts in your face and then falling back into a food coma  . . . . and repeating this for 60 years until one Thursday in your 80's you die in your sleep, alone and unloved. (Now that's how you use an ellipses, maybe).

To sum up, if you have nothing you want to accomplish before you die, don't start a bucket list. It makes everyone else around you feel awkward and pity you, and it's really just poor list-making skills in general.

Anyway, one unexpected consequence of creating a bucket list is it really puts your life into perspective at a time before you are probably actually ready for it. What good does it do you to realize in your early-late-middle twenties (i.e. 26) that you have all of these dreams that are not being fulfilled whilst you go into work every day, week-in, week-out trying to earn that skrilla you need to pay off your student loans, go out on the weekends to break up the monotony, buy some semi-cool shit you want and possibly, possibly save whatever is left over from each paycheck (approximately 39 cents) for the "future?"  No good, really. All it makes you want to do is quit your job and go out and just do everything on your list and really "live."

However, here is my advice: keep it in perspective.

My momma always said bucket lists is like a box of chocolates - sure, you want it all now, but if you eat it all at once, you're gonna blow chunks all over your running shoes and the person sitting next to you at the bus stop is going to get angry and possibly hit you. Then you might not make it to the love of your life's house and meet your illegitimate child that she's hid from you for 4 years and named after the kid's daddy, who just so happens to have the same name as you. Momma had some strangely specific advice.

Anyways, the point is to go out and do your bucket list one item at a time. You don't have to have lived a lifetime by the time you are in your early-late-middle twenties, but it's a good idea to start now and maybe achieve one dream at a time.

Then, by the time you are 121 and ready to die,

then you can go out the way you want to. Like Blue did. KY-wrestling 2 beautiful girls at a frat party. (Disclaimer: dying of a heart attack while KY-wrestling 2 beautiful girls at a frat party may not be as glamorous or funny as it appears).

In conclusion, here are some more items on my own bucket list. I have not achieved any of these yet, so I would appreciate if you would keep me posted on any opportunities to check these off.

• 88: Swim with a Whale

There are few things that seem as cool to me than swimming with a gentle giant of the deep. The ocean is pretty cool anyway, if you don't count the presence of giant squid. And whales are nice to humans, for whatever reason. (Except when you put Shamu in a tiny tank and make him perform the same tricks every day for decades upon decades for screaming crowds - then he, justifiably, sometimes snaps and eats the shit out of his trainer). It would be so cool to just serenely glide along the open ocean holding onto the fin of the biggest thing on Earth. A bonus for this item would be to get to swim with a Sperm Whale because they kill giant squid. Sometimes for sport. I maybe would even get to tag along to a Sperm Whale/giant squid rumble. Hopefully my wet suit doesn't have one of those dyes that shows when you pee yourself, cause I would definitely whiz uncontrollably upon seeing a giant squid, even if my Sperm Whale buddy was gonna fuck him up.

This is a sperm whale. You can tell from his coy smile that he is not camera shy.

• 25: Learn to Sail a Boat (and sing I'm On a Boat)

In keeping with my love of the ocean, I'd like to learn how to sail a boat. And then actually sail a boat. I've always had a dream of buying a catamaran, moving to somewhere like New Zealand, and then chartering out my catamaran to tourists, having them think that my lifestyle is so cool and fun that they too might want to go do this someday. I think this would happen because that's how I got this idea - my family traveled to New Zealand and went out on a catamaran with a guide who did this very thing. It's an endless cycle. I'd be like a padawan to his jedi, and I might even get all cocky and think that I was ready for my own catamaran way too early in my training and maybe even slip over to the dark side and, in a heat of passion, accidentally kill all the other jedis only to wake up with no legs and a helmet that I needed to keep on at all times to breath. And then I would try to kill my own son, but later try to recruit him to the dark side, only to eventually save his life when my evil master was trying to kill him once I learned the error of my ways. Then I would just be an old cripple on my catamaran, chillin in New Zealand, living off of fresh green-lip mussels every day. Which sounds delicious! 

Me in my catamaran garb:

The mussels I'd eat everyday:

In order to check off this item, I bought the book Sailing for Dummies. 4 years ago.  I haven't read it yet. But I will. I think buying a "for Dummies" book is advisable for most if not all bucket list items. Just saying.

A bonus to this item would be to actually sing "I'm On a Boat" every day while living on my catamaran. . . . in Darth Vader's voice!

• 16: Sky Dive Out of a Plane After the Pilot Has Been Shot by Mercenaries During A Multi-Continent Treasure Hunting Adventure And Open The Parachute At the Last Possible Second and Survive With Only Minor Scratches

Come to think of it, this one is pretty self-explanatory.

That's it for now. I encourage everyone to consider your own bucket lists, keep some perspective about it all, and if you are going to try to create a bucket list, or any list for that matter, use ellipses . . . what's the word. . . . sparingly. . . . . SUKAFISH!


MikeeP  

I Failed at Microwaving a Peep

Easter season is upon us, and you know what that means. PEEPS ARE BACK IN STORES!

It's no secret that everyone in the world secretly loves peeps. Just look into this peep's droopy-eyed face and try to tell it that you don't love it.

What makes them so universally adored is that, like love itself, everyone experiences and enjoys these tasty treats in different ways.

Some like to eat them and experience the eyeball-exploding sugar rush they get when they stuff four or more of these babies into their face. In fact, An annual "Peep Off" competition is held in Maryland on the first Saturday after Easter, when Peeps are greatly discounted, to see who can eat the most in 30 minutes.

Others like to keep them pristinely sealed and preserved within that cellophane and cardboard mausoleum like four more or less perfectly formed lazy-eyed Siamese-twin monuments and ponder the endless cycle of life and rebirth that the tasty goo-balls and the season they are associated with symbolize.

Some make them the subject of art.

Still others like to break that seal just a bit, wait a week until the peeps have hardened into tougher-than-granite petrified masses and hurl them at cars from an overpass.

Yup, that's actually a peep in the windshield. Amazingly, that's what a peep looks like after just one week's exposure to air, so if you plan on eating them after opening, make sure to have your dentist's number at hand.

One subset of peep lovers likes to microwave them. I don't know how this trend started, but it's apparently caught on like a combination of the macarena and Jesus.

There's even a Wiki-how online manual that walks you through microwaving one or several peeps in just 9 easy steps (click here to see the instructions, which include the crucial ninth step of looking at the peeps once you are done).

Naturally, once I learned about this, I wanted to try it. What could be more exciting and fulfilling than sticking a marshmallow in a microwave and seeing what happens? What, but side-splitting hilarity, could possibly ensue?

Not one to pass up an opportunity to realize my dreams, last Sunday (a beautiful day in Santa Barbara on which I had no work, no responsibilities and could have chosen to engage in any activity I wanted) I, a 26 year-old grown man and a lawyer, drove out of my way, by myself, to the grocery store, purchased nothing but 2 boxes of yellow Peeps, and came directly home, literally giddy with excitement at what might  happen once I stuck one of those babies in the microwave for a minute.

Having first slit the cellophane on one of the boxes so that in a week I could have something to throw at the neighborhood cats, I took out a single, beautiful, sparkling yellow chick, its side displaying its only slight imperfection at where I yanked it apart from its siblings.

I beheld this specimen, my eyes glistening with awe, my mouth confused and angry knowing that it wouldn't actually get to taste its sugary delectableness, my stomach relieved that it would not be faced with the Herculean task of digesting the blob of marshmallow, corn syrup, gelatin, and carnauba wax, and my brain already releasing massive amounts of dopamine in anticipation of what promised to be one the best moments of my life.

Naturally, I brought out my camera because I knew a joyous moment like this, not unlike witnessing your own firstborn baby's first words, was one that you want to capture and relive over and over again.
Here is the before photo I prepared.

Having chosen the perfect plate, one that would contain but not overwhelm the peep's destruction and would not clash too much with the peep's color, I put the peep on the plate. I placed the plate into the microwave. I reached out a trembling finger to set the time, having not once, but twice, to push clear and start over as I pushed the wrong buttons in my excitement.

Then I pushed start.

And this happened.

Needless to say, the image I had for what would happen far exceeded the reality, and, not unlike witnessing someone else's firstborn baby's first words, I was less than impressed and more than slightly bored. 

As you can see, obviously, there were a few problems. First of all, theres that weird stuff on the inside of a microwave window that makes it extremely hard to see anything that goes on in there unless you press your forehead up against the glass, which I couldn't do because my doctor told me to stop doing that since I was suffering headaches and intermittent visions of white light. Also, it makes it very hard to photograph anything inside there.  

Additionally, the event itself was rather lackluster. I had imagined the peep expanding to a ridiculous size, 3, maybe 4 or 8 times as big as it started, its face becoming unrecognizable as its eyes bulged hilariously in different directions and its beak merged into its chin, and the microwave barely being able to contain it.

But, in reality, it just kinda got a little bigger, and then deflated. And that was it. 

So, I spent roughly an hour of a gorgeous day spring day planning and executing what I really should have realized beforehand would be just like putting a regular marshmallow into a microwave.

And that, in case you were wondering, is how I spent my Palm Sunday.

Mikee P

PS: Check out the video below--it's the best video of someone microwaving a peep I've seen. Note that I said, "best," by which you correctly deduce there are more than one out there. Anyway, enjoy. Oh and happy Easter. Hope you have a good time however you choose to celebrate it, whether it's going to a long mass conducted entirely in Latin, eating a baker's dozen of chocolate bunnies on top of a pound of jelly beans and week-old, multicolored hardboiled eggs, or by not celebrating it at all cause you're not religious, hate candy, and are saddened by the commercialization and bastardization of yet another holiday by Hallmark, Cadbury, Honeybaked Ham, and of course, Peeps & Company.

RIP Henry

Goddamn, am I tired. But I'll get to that in a moment.

So, yes, it's now been 1 month and ten days since I last posted. And it had been about 3 months since I posted before that.

Let me explain: I'm lazy.

Not so much lazy as I have a short attention span.

Not so much a short attention span at any one time, but more like I have a problem with follow . . . see, I get hyped up about things in short bursts.

To borrow a phrase from Wedding Crashers, "I'm an idea man. I thrive on enthusiasm." (Also a great line, but nowhere near pertinent to my point: "I just almost nunchucked you, you don't even realize.")  I get all these ideas, and I decide I'm gonna start doing them likeallthetimestartingrightnowandforeverthisisgonnabeaweseome! I'll get all jazzed up and then I'll do those things for about a week, and then something comes up and I kinda lose track. And next thing you know, 4 months have gone by. That's how my brain works. I'm an idea sprinter.

I'm the first to admit it, I have a problem with follow through. I'd be a world famous artist right now if I could just stop walking away to answer the phone and then going out to get a drink before doing some surfing after a kickball game, all the while letting the watercolors dry up before I finish number 12 (my dream is to be a famous paint-by-number artist).

Instead I'm sitting around here with all these half-painted canvases of what I think is supposed to be the Statue of Liberty among all my half-read books lying on top of half-opened computers containing half-written blog posts sitting next to fully empty bottles of wine. There are some things I do actually finish, and wine is one of them.

Another thing, and the reason why I am so tired (told you I'd get to it), is running. I don't mean I started running and haven't stopped, even to this very minute. I'm not that good of a runner or typer.What I mean is I've been running somewhat consistently over the past couple of months. Why you might ask? (or ax, depending on your dialect). Answer: I'm running a half-marathon. Why, you ax? Answer, shut up, that's why.

It's not important why I decided to run this half-marathon; that's between me and Muuuuuhommad. What's important is so far I've followed through. Unlike with my ideas, I'm not a half-marathon sprinter. And that's good because my heart would probably explode around mile 3, and someone would have to clean up that mess, which, yes, I know what you're going to say, is good for the economy because it creates jobs for janitors and coroners and gives another cadaver to medical students to practice colonoscopies on, which yes, if you're wondering is my will for my body if I die--I'm specifically donating it to science so that medical students can practice colonoscopies, it's an important procedure--it saves a lot of lives and is important to get right, hence the practice for future doctors--but in the grand scheme of things I'd rather not die while sprinting in a half-marathon. My goal is to get gunned down by the FBI while driving a hijacked Coca-Cola truck towards the US-Mexican border. Anyone who knows me knows that.

But I digress, sort of. I don't plan on sprinting in the half-marathon. I also have not been "sprinting" in the process of training for it (Ahh, it's a metaphor for life). I mean, I started it, and I've followed through with it. So far. I still have 3 weeks.

There have been some benefits to this. The first that comes to mind is Henry is dead.

Who is Henry, you ax? Henry is (was?) my gut. Henry first showed up somewhere between junior and senior year, the latter semester of my junior year having been spent in London drinking many, many a pint before even 2 in the afternoon and slamming 3 or 4 doner kebab before having some more pints and topping off the night with some Kennessy's Fried Chicken and Kinder Bueno (I tried to find a link for Kennessy's Fried Chicken. Suffice to say, it was glorious in its greasiness. Also, sometimes it was undercooked). So yes, Henry was a baby born of debauchery whilst abroad, and he stuck around after that, senior year proving that the time in London was merely an unambitious prelude.

At the height of Henry's reign of terror, I was eating at McDonald's twice a day--2 double cheeseburgers, large fries and Coke, and McFlurry, cause why the fuck not at that point? Then one day, I realized that that meal had in the neighborhood of 2500 calories. Multiply that times 2 plus, breakfast, drinking, snacks . . . you get the picture. Speaking of getting the picture, because I know you're dying to see, here's a pic of Henry in his prime:

Yup good ol' Henry. Could have been a lot worse, obviously--it's not like I was trying out for the Biggest Loser or anything. But, there's a spare tire there. Also, side note, I used to shave my chest and stomach. I think the only thing that could have made Henry worse was if he was all hairy too.

Anyway, the point is, no one would fault me for calling Henry a "gut." It doesn't take a first year med student who has never even performed his first colonoscopy to diagnose that. And that was senior year. He hung around for about 3 more years after that, like a personal floaty device in case my plane had to make an emergency landing in water. No seat-bottom cushions for MikeeP.

Anyway, Henry's dead now. Twas the running that killed him. Tale as old as time, really.

I can't say I'm sad, but he did provide a good source of entertainment, and for that I'm forever grateful. And somehow, I feel like he's not quite gone, like he'll never really be gone. He's always there, lurking just beneath the surface, just biding his time until the day that I finish my half-marathon, get my wine glass and down a bottle or 2 of wine (did I mention there's a wine tasting festival set up at the end of the race?) and demand that my designated driver head straight to Mickey D's for a 2500 calorie celebratory snack. On that day, Henry, not unlike Jesus, will return and impose his judgment on me. I can only hope he'll be happy I fed him.

MikeeP

PS in lieu of flowers, Henry requested that you send monetary donations to his favorite charity. Just send me the money and I'll be sure to pass it on to the charity. Honestly. Also, for the love of God, make sure to get those colonoscopies--you can never be too careful.

You Get a Face Lift . . . . You Get a Face Lift . . . . EVERY-BODY GETS A FACE LIFT!!

To borrow a phrase from Professor Farnsworth . . . GOOD NEWS EVERYONE!!

The What-It-Is-Suckafish Blog has gotten ANOTHER face lift! Only 7 more and we get a free one! Only 13 more and we'd be Joan Rivers!

Don't be alarmed, we're still the same old blog you know and count on, day-in-day-out, to lazily neglect posting anything entertaining or valuable . . .  or anything at all, judging by the past . . . going on 3 months now. I for one blame the horrible, sagging wrinkles for the lack of new content. But now, those have been nipped, tucked and botoxed away.

So, stay tuned, as new posts will be coming forthwith. In the meantime, check out some of the links I have posted over on the side there, and please accept this video as my attrition for neglecting to post anything: http://www.theonion.com/video/semiliterate-former-gold-prospector-given-own-cabl,17408/.

All My Love (and by "love", I mean, "indifferent tolerance"),

MikeeP

Bad Driving "Luck"

I recently got a call from my parents, who live in a different state than me (they, Colorado--I, sunny California), simply to chat and catch up. About halfway through the conversation, my mom casually mentioned the fact that my dad's new car had been rear-ended a mere hour-and-a-half before.

I was a little worried - not at the fact that my parents had been in an accident but rather at the way that she off-handedly threw the story into the end of the conversation in an almost-forgot-to-tell-you manner, as if she were relating what she had had for lunch that day. 

Such has become the state of driving vehicles in my family. 

Like I said, I wasn't worried about the actual accident - after all, this time, it was only a fender-bender, and the accident wasn't the fault of anyone in our family. For MikeeP and kin, getting into a car accident that's relatively minor is happy news, along the lines of bringing home an "A-" on a final exam. Throw in not having that minor accident be due to any negligence, inattentiveness or hubris on our part . . . well, that's like saying not only was the "-" a typo and you actually got an "A+", but that you also got extra credit, and you are excused from doing homework for the next week. 

Now, if you know me well, or casually, or have had the (mis)fortune of being a passenger in a car I was operating, or who follow this blog marginally, or have been cut off, side-swiped or run over by me out there on the road, you know that I have somewhat of a history of what might be euphemistically described as "boo-boo"s when it comes to cars. 

There are some who chalk it up to a general state of distraction in which I tend to live my life, which is fine when it comes to overcoming life's little annoyances, but might translate poorly into the realm of vehicular management. 

I however, take a different view. What might appear to the casual observer as "distraction" while I drive - things such as turning around to look the back-seat passenger in the eye when I talk to them - I consider to be politeness. It's just common courtesy to look people in the eye when you talk. I tell this to people all the time. They usually respond by telling me to watch the road, please, or by screaming uncontrollably and pointing our the windshield at something I can't see because I am busy being polite and looking them in the eye. 

I think I've previously alluded to the litany of driving predicaments I've found myself in, not the least of which includes getting a reckless driving ticket on the same night that I backed into the garage door, a mere four nights before backing into two, count 'em, TWO parked cars. That was a bad week.

However, like all good miscreants, I place the culpability outside of myself. I blame my genes. Remember how I said before that I was relieved that the state of driving in my family has gotten to the point where we are actually happy to hear that one of us only got into a fender bender?

Well, then it should not shock to you learn that, I recently took an inventory of my family's driving mishaps. And I came up with, off the top of my head, approximately fifty - 5-0!-  incidents between my extended family. And we are talking cross-generational here, not just kids.

I don't even know which of us is the worst. I may have the most notches on my fan belt, but I don't think I have the worst incidents. Except for the hitting 2 cars 4 days after I broke the garage and got a reckless driving ticket thing. That one was bad.

But clearly, there are too many incidents to discuss right now, and I want to do them all justice because just about every incident has a story to it, there are very few garden variety speeding tickets in the mix here.

I think what I'm going to do here is give a teaser/activity. I will list the people in my family who could be considered driving culprits, and I will list the incidents that have occurred between us, but I won't actually attribute the incidents to the players just yet. I will leave it to you to ponder who has done what. You may recognize some of my previously related "boo-boos", but hey, you really need to see them all at once to feel the full effect of our family driving habits.

Drivers:
-Dad
-Brother
-Sister
-Grandma
-Aunt
-Mom
-Grandpa

Incidents:
-Backed into 2 parked cars in 5 minutes
-Backed into the garage door (and broke it)
-Reckless driving ticket
-Totaled a car a month after getting it by rear-ending someone, and then getting rear-ended in turn
-Shattered windshield by accidentally throwing a bag of garbage onto it from a second-story balcony (while aiming for the dumpster next to the car)
-Ran into a guardrail in the mountains because was watching the rear-view mirror b/c they thought a cop was tailing them
-Was voted worst driver of senior year class (but best partier!)
-Slid mother's car into a stone wall b/c of snow on road
-Had a car so old that there was a hole in the floor, and the automatic seatbelt had a frayed wire so car would not start (b/c car would only start when seat-belt was "on")
-Said car with hole and frayed seatbelt blew a rod, was repaired, and was totaled 1 week later when it was hit
-Got a ticket for racing
-Ran out of gas 2 times
-Ran out gas 1 time
-Ran out of gas 2 times (this was not an accidental repeat--2 different people in my fam have run out of gas at least 2 time)
-Almost ran out of gas a third/fourth time in the middle of Utah where the only "gas station" in town was a pump in front of a house, and had to bang on the door till people came out
-Spun out on freeway while driving someone else's car
-Had a car's engine die b/c hadn't gotten the oil changed in over 10,000 miles
-Had an automatic gate close on their car
-Ran into another car b/c of snow on road
-Backed into a car in an intersection
-Almost ran out of gas a third/fourth time while driving across the country solo to see a favorite band's last concert, and ran out of money on the way back (also got a speeding ticket on that trip)
-Got a seatbelt ticket in a parking lot
-Got a ticket for driving solo in a carpool lane
-Got hit a week after driving stick shift (and driving more carefully than ever before in their life)
-Shattered rear windshield by backing into a mail box
-Totaled 3rd car by rear-ending someone
-Totaled first car by having someone rear-end them
-Hit a pole in a bank drive-thru ATM
-Broke trunk by angrily throwing it open b/c they were irritated that it wouldn't stay open on its own in the cold
-Tried to park a car in the area of a walk-up ice cream store where people stand and order
-totaled both parents cars in one weekend while they were out of town
-Tried to order at a drive-thru by yelling into a trashcan (5 feet away from the order box)
-Rolled a car on the interstate
-Had a car spontaneously combust while driving it
-Drove in reverse on a major street (with traffic) b/c gear shift was stuck in reverse

So, that is the basic, off-the-top-of-my-head list of driving incidents that have occurred in my family.  As there are so many, I will be starting a new, on-going series on this blog where I will, one by one, detail the story behind each of these driving incidents, and reveal who the culprit was behind each.

I will leave you with this little nugget that sums up the driving experience in my family: I was recently talking with my dad, and we realized that, since June of this year, 5 out of 5 in my immediate family have had a driving "boo-boo". (In our defense, 3 of us weren't at fault. So, that's worth something, in some twisted way, I guess).

And you wonder why I am a bad driver? Science doesn't lie, my friends. It's the genes. 

Mikee P

Bucket List pt. 2

As I've alluded to in previous posts, and by "previous posts", I mean this one single post, I have an on-going bucket list.

I'm not referring to a literal list of buckets that I secretly keep in my back pocket and obsessively unfold, stare at for 15 minutes (reciting the name, product number, year of first production and most competitive retail price of each bucket four times in a raspy, barely audible murmur) and then re-fold along every crease perfectly, repeating the entire process if I miss a single step, every hour on the hour. Where did you get that idea?

Incidentally, if I were keeping a list of literal buckets, I would probably include this one, as it seems to have practical application, this one because it is simple, refined and masculine yet aesthetically pleasing, you know, for a bucket, and this one because, shit that's pretty hilarious.

No, this "bucket list" I have is one of those cliche lists of things I want to do before I die.

Now, I'm not saying mine is the best bucket list ever and if you follow it you will truly live. I'm not even saying it's totally awesome, or partially awesome. I mean, it's probably pretty lame compared to the one those guys are following on The Buried Life. Those guys have a pretty good thing goin with their list, and they're actually checking things off, earning money while doing it, and achieving legitimate glory. You know, the glory of being an MTV reality show star. That level of prestige is usually reserved for underage pregnant teenage moms from Tennessee,  trust-fund harpees planning a birthday celebration that costs more than many peoples' annual incomes, and explosive-tempered alcoholic club-rats from the east coast.

I do have to admit, I'd like to steal this item from the list on the Buried Life for my bucket list. That would be fun.

On the plus side, I will say that my list is probably not as milque-toast and cliche as the one featured in the 2007 box-office hit of dubious critical acclaim, The Bucket List. I mean, those guys' number one item was "witness something truly majestic." Urrmmphh. Excuse me, I just threw up a little in my mouth, and I also think I just caught diabetes.

No, my list falls somewhere in between. It's somewhat humble, yet honest. It's probably one of the most honest things you'll read on this blog, except for my crippling fear of gargantuan cephalopods such as this one, my horrible driving habits, and my inability to dance without looking like an epileptic robot. Some things may be lame, some may be shallow, some may be unattainable. But in the end, is not the trifecta of these three types of dreams what makes each and every one of us human?

Hey, I'm asking you a question.

Anyway, here are some more items from the list, and their corresponding numbers on the list. Feel free to add, critique, share your own, etc. These are our lives we're talkin about, maaaan! Let's start living.

• 13: Zorb During a Tsunami

For those of you that don't know what zorbing is, it's this. It's basically one of the coolest things EVER, hands down. You roll around in this giant clear sphere. A lot of people do it on hills, basically is like sledding on crack and sounds tight. I mean, seriously, these things are so cool, I would do it all the time. I would roll around in one on the streets. However, I want to take it to the next level and do it in a tsunami. This sounds crazy, but you're in a zorb, and therefore cannot be hurt in any way, no matter what amount of force hits you. At least that's how I understand the physics of it.

• 3: Have a Legit Spit Take

This one is very high on my list, as you can see. For those of you who don't know what a spit-take is, it is when you take a sip of some beverage, and by some crazy coincidence, someone you are with just so happens at that exact second to reveal some piece of shocking news. Look here for a typical example. I want to do this before I die. I try to constantly keep a beverage with me and begin sipping the instant I hear someone talking. People think it's because I'm dehydrated, but I really do it in the unlikely event that they are about to tell me that they're marrying their cousin, or that there is no God. This would be my ideal. (Wait or seek forward to minute 1:30--well worth the wait).

• 23: Grunt a Worm

As hilarious as this name sounds, "grunting" a "worm" is really just putting a wooden dowel into some dirt, and hitting it repeatedly with a tiny mallet until worms come to the surface, at which point you grab them, gingerly, lest they rip in half. Come to think of it, the real thing is about as hilarious as the name. Also, the word "worm" didn't actually need to be in parentheses. And by "parentheses," I mean "quotes." Goddamn punctuation. Anyway, worm grunting is a real profession or activity, most often used to collect bait for fishing. However, apparently people do it as a competitive sport as well. I'm not aspiring to those levels however. I merely want to grunt one worm. 

• 7: Slay a Giant Squid by Hurling a Harpoon Into Its Giant, Disgusting Eye

This shouldn't warrant that much explanation, as most anyone who is a basic acquaintance of mine knows that the mere thought of giant squid makes me brown my trousers (I mean figuratively . . . .or do I?). Thus, I would really, really like to kill one before I die. An added bonus would be to not die via giant squid, though something deep within me tells me this is how I am going to go. That or get gunned down driving a hijacked Coca-Cola truck for the border of Mexico. Anyway, if I'm going to be eaten by a giant squid, I'd at least like to take one of those bastards down with me.

• 63: Write a Novel, Movie, or TV Show, or Write Something That Vaguely References a Novel, Movie, or TV Show at Some Point

As you can see, I've checked this one off already. As you can also see, I made this one easier on myself by providing a pretty big loophole.

Well, that's it for now. Remember, I'll always be with you all. Not in that creepy Mufasa way, but more in a good-will sort of way.

Mikee P

The Best of The "What It Is Suckafish Blog", i.e. Greatest Hits

Are you kidding me?

You actually think there would, or could be a "best of" or "greatest hits" installment of this blog? It's only been around for, like, a year, and it's not even good! Dream on, reader. Thanks for playing along and coming here to check it out, though.

Well, to be honest, I wasted all of my creativity on that one fake-out title idea. Plus I'm going out of town for Thanksgiving, so I'm kinda distracted and rushed.

So, I guess that's it for today. Have a good holiday--try to avoid any physical confrontations with your family, I'm told the tryptophan in turkey is a real rage-inducer. At least the turkey I ate growing up.

Wait, what? I'm sorry, I'm being informed right now that tryptophan actually makes you tired and sluggish. I guess my mom must have been spiking our turkey with steroids all those years. That would explain my squeaky voice and acne outbreak around the age of 12.

I'm sorry, I'm being told that that was most likely just puberty.

Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving, or whatever the wiccan equivalent is to those of you out there who swing that way. More What-It-Is to come at you next week!

MikeeP

ENDGAME: My Life Was Better Before Law School Because I Never Knew These Words/Phrases Existed

And so it's come to this.

We have arrived at what might very well be the last installment of THE "My Life Was Better Before Law School Because I Never Knew These Words/Phrases Existed" LIST.

This is potentially an emotional moment. Will you shed a tear for the end of an era? I know I won't. I made it pretty clear yesterday how I feel about feelings: I don't. Except when it comes to seeing Rachel McAdams on the silver screen. (Damn you, Rachel McAdams, you are my kryptonite!)

Before we enter Endgame, let's take a moment to reflect. What did we learn the past few days?

We learned a lot about me: if I get Alzheimer's, I'm going to be shaving some monkeys, I go to Lamaze classes for the free ice chips, and my Reef sandals are haunted by the restless spirits of dead law school notes.

Let's see. . . . what else. . . .well, we learned that Trinity dies towards the end of the 3rd Matrix movie, but President Bartlet doesn't die in the West Wing. . . . or does he?? (he doesn't).

We also learned a lot about the law. What exactly, I don't know.

If we're to believe anything I've explained, then "the law" is a fantasyland clusterfuck where shit is upside down, wrong is right, people have selfish motives, the police aren't to be trusted, Latin has risen from the dead and wanders the Earth like a decaying, soulless zombie, corporate officers aren't accountable for their actions, people use giant sticks to defend their land and sue each other over contracts they've created entirely by mail, and maps are really boring. Basically, a bleak hellscape.

Thank God the world we live in is nothing like that. Can you imagine if we had to use Latin?

Well, that was some good reflecting time. If you will actually indulge me in two moments of earnestness (just two, I swear, and that's it), it sure has been fun writing about legal stuff the past few days. It's the first time I've done a "series" for blog posts, hell it's the first time I've been conscientious enough to post 4 days in a row since this imminent-trainwreck left the station. So thanks for sticking with me through the legalese. It's been some of the most fun stuff to write about, probably because something as dry and tedious as the law practically screams for humorous treatment lest it literally overtake your entire person and turn you into some kind of . . . law . .  . robot . . . guy. . . with no . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . imagination.

So I think I might be revisiting this topic more frequently as time goes on. That may be good news for some of you, and bad news for others. I'll let the 4 of you who actually read this decide for yourselves if you like it or not, but please know that I don't want to alienate anyone. On the contrary, I need to be loved by everyone, or else I just won't be able to even function. So PLEASE KEEP READING! DON'T LEAVE ME!

Ok, I think the earnestness dissipated about half-way into the first paragraph - I told you it would be brief.

Anyway, I think that provides a nice segueway into today's discussion of horrible legal words/phrases. You know what they say, save the best for last. I wish I had remembered that expression when I first started posting this series because honestly what's coming today, I gotta tell ya, is a real steaming pile of shit. I'm almost embarrassed to even publish this post. In fact, I don't know if I am going to.

So you got me there - you're reading this, I obviously already posted it, let's stop this cruel charade.

Thus, without any further stalling tactics, let me introduce the FINAL PORTION OF THE LIST by way of an apology. I am truly, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, sorry for what you are about to read. It sucks. All right, let's get started!

• "Specific/General Intent" - In the world of criminal law, when you act, you might just intend to cause the "natural and probable result" of your actions. "That's general intent." But did you know that you might actually sometimes intend some further thing to occur? If this is the case, then you had "specific intent." If you're confused at this point, then congratulations, you are a human being! Nobody, nobody knows what the fuck the difference between "general intent" and "specific intent" is. If someone tells you that they know, then disregard anything they ever say or have said to you because they are full of shit. The entire legal world - attorneys, judges, professors, law students, clerks, stenographers, bailiffs, defendants, everyone - has been confused about them since they were coined as terms, even the jerk who coined them. And yet, they will always be around because everyone is too embarrassed to admit they have no idea what they mean and suggest we change them. Thus, we still use them today. 
• The good news - you can just ramble about them for a couple of minutes and whoever you are talking to will nod along knowingly, and won't dare contradict you because they will be thinking that you, unlike them, actually understand these terms. 
• More good news, if you commit a "specific intent" crime while you're drunk, you're not guilty!

• "Record Notice" - when you should have looked at every potential record in existence to see if someone has an easement on land you buy, or if someone else actually owns the land you buy. Basically, if there is a piece of paper out there that might say something about your land, then you are considered "on record notice" of whatever it is. The lesson here: carefully review every piece of paper in the world when you are purchasing new land. 

• "Narrowly Tailored to Meet a Compelling Govt Interest" - how you know if a government action or regulation meets the "strict scrutiny" test of constitutionality. Now let us never, ever speak of this phrase again. 

• "Eminent Domain" - when the government decides it wants to take your land, so they make you move, take your shit, and throw you "fair compensation" (i.e. 50% of the fair market value), without a care or in the world as to where you are going to live now. Geez, the government is a real dick. 

• "Riparian Owner" - under the system of "riparian water rights," everyone who borders water is a "riparian owner" of the water, and can make reasonable use of the water. This stands in stark contrast to the rule of "prior appropriation" for water rights, whereby whoever can grab the most water first, regardless of whether they will actually need or use it, owns that water and sucks to be anyone else who might be thirsty or need a shower. If you're for "riparian water rights," then go back to Soviet Russia, you commie pinko bastard.  

• "Search Incident to Arrest" - when the police arrest you, they are entitled to search your person and the area immediately surrounding you in case you are hiding a gun, knife, shiv, shank, mace, taser, brass knuckles, baseball bat, screwdriver, whip, chain, cattle prod, battle ax, boomerang, throwing stars, grenade, spear, sword, rapier, dagger, katana, machete, bow staff, barbed-wire-wrapped-around-a-board, nunchucks, chainsaw, nail gun, hammer, car battery-hooked-up-to-jumper-cables, malatov cocktail, garden sheers, bazooka, rusty nail, mid-range-nuclear-warhead, tank, stealth-bomber, or "fee simple", which you might run and grab after you wrestle free and get out of your handcuffs before the trained police officers are able to stop you. It's for the officer's safety. Oh, also, the cops use this as an excuse to find miniscule amounts of weed in your pocket so they can add another charge so the DA has more leverage in the plea negotiations, and contribute to the already unsustainable state of overcrowded prisons. But it's mostly about the weapons and officer safety.

• "Eggshell Plaintiff" - this concept was introduced into the legal world after a harrowing incident when a certain individual, which for privacy reasons shall remain anonymous, had the grave misfortune of having a great fall from a wall on which he was sitting. This poor bastard didn't have a chance, not even the top horses in the kingdom could save him. R.I.P. 

• "CP/SP" - these abbreves here stand for "community property" and "separate property" respectively. They have to do with how a court will deal with the stuff you will acquire when you get married. You should probably save yourself the headache of learning these terms and just never get married. 

• "Diminished Capacity" - a state in which I spent most of my college years, UP TOP! Anyone? No?

• "Excited Utterance" - Another exception to the "hearsay" rule. This one is a little complicated, so I'm gonna take it slow. This is a statement that  you . . . how should I put this . . . ."utter" . . . . . when you are in a state of hmm, what's a good word . . . . "excitement." No, there's no catch, it's really that straightforward. Pinky swear. 

• "Diversity Jx" - Remember a couple days ago when I told you that killing yourself via that rusty, greasy machine from the movie Saw that is basically a reverse bear-trap that rips your jaw apart was less painful than trying to understand when a court has jx over a case? Well, welcome to Saw II baby! See, what I haven't told you yet, is that there are actually 2 different kinds of jx that you have to show before the court can actually take action. There's "personal jx", which has to do with those "minimum contacts" I mentioned a while ago (which comes from famous case called International Shoe--hrrmmph. . . . oh, excuse me, I just threw up a little in my mouth). But there's also "subject matter jx." And under "subject matter jx," there's 2 different kinds of ways to show jx, "federal question", or "diversity jx." So, the requirements for "diversity jx" are: 1) the suit must arise from a controversy between "citizens" of different states, and 2) must be for a matter of $75K or more. Now, there are a couple of ways to show which state someone is a "citizen" of. First, you . . . . . . HEY! WAIT! WHERE ARE YOU GOING??? WHY ARE YOU RUNNING SO FAST??? I HAVEN'T EVEN GOTTEN TO THE RULES OF COMPULSORY JOINDER THAT CAN DESTROY DIVERSITY JX!!!! THERE'S ONLY FOUR SUB-RULES THAT APPLY THERE, AND THEY'RE REALLY QUITE FASCINATING ONCE YOU GET INTO THEM. WHY ARE YOU FLIPPING ME OFF??

Well, that about wraps things up. 

What did I tell you, just real shoddy, bad stuff today. 

But that doesn't mean that there's not still a take-away message about the law embedded in all of these posts. I guess if I wanted you to take away one thing about "the law" from these blog posts, I think it would be . . .  wait. Did you just hear that? Sush up for a second. That. Right there. You don't hear that? Hmm must be my imagination. 

So, back to the take-away, if I wanted you to take away one thing about "the law" from this blog, it would be--hey look a quarter! Cool, I'm only 2 quarters away from being able to dry a load of laundry!

Anyway, what was I saying? Oh ya, if I wanted you to take away one thing about "the law" from this blog, it would be. . . dammit, I lost my train of thought. Sorry. Ok, we got Endgame. . . . Trinity dies . . . .ice chips . . . Latin-zombie . . . malatov cocktail . . . diversity jx. . . nope, sorry I'm drawing a blank here. 

So it seems the take-away from these past few days is: nothing. There was no point to all of this. Just killin some time before the Bar results come out. This is a time-wasting blog, after all.

At any rate, I hope it was mildly entertaining. I know I had a good time. Too bad it just kinda abruptly ended like this, though. Kinda anticlimactic, no real closure at all. Huh. Oh well. Goodbye. 

MikeeP

PS Best of luck to everyone reading this who is awaiting Bar results, especially anyone from USF School of Law. I have my fingers crossed for all of you, and hope to be drinking a toast to good news for everyone at 6pm tonight!

Sub-Section C of (drumrolllllll): My Life Was Better Before Law School Because I Never Knew These Words/Phrases Existed

Well hello. What have we here? You are lookin' fine tonight, sweet thang. I do believe I would use a "fee simple" to fight for your love. Awww yeah. Wait. Shhhh. Do you hear that? That's the sound of my heart skipping a beat. Hey, let me ask you a question, and be honest. Do you like pina coladas? 

Woah, woah, where am I? What just happened? Sorry about that. I was just sitting here, with the lights all dim, sipping on some fine Hennessy, listening to some Barry White with The Notebook playing on TV in the background, and I must have gotten a little too "in the mood" there and didn't realize I was inadvertently hitting on my readers. Why would I want to listen to music when I have the TV on you ask? 'Cause I like to party. 

And if you are gonna talk shit about watching The Notebook, you obviously don't appreciate the beauty and depth of feeling of a love story that transcends time and speaks to the romantic inside all of us  . . . Ok, I'm gonna level with you here. I wasn't really watching The Notebook.  I was watching Tosh.O and he was showing a video of body builders sitting in a tub, wearing speedos, and one was tickling the other's foot and they were both giggling like schoolgirls. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.  

No but seriously, I once watched The Notebook, and my heart almost exploded from an oversurge of emotions. And I'm not an emotional guy. I didn't cry when Han Solo got frozen in carbonite, when Harry took AJ's place to sacrifice himself to blow up the meteor, when that hunter shot Bambi's mom, or when Trinity dies (HILARIOUS!). I didn't even flinch when President Bartlet was assassinated in Season 5 of the West Wing (sorry for the spoiler, those of you who were working your way through the series). 

Just kidding about Bartlet. He doesn't die until Season 6. 

PSYCHE! Don't worry. I can't remember when he dies. 

No, no, no, he doesn't die, he's Martin Sheen for God's sake. Cripes. But ya, The Notebook, talk about a wave of feelings. You know the only thing more emotional than watching The Notebook? Watching Nights In Rodanthe and then The Notebook BACK TO BACK! I did that. I know, crazy, right? I sobbed for 3 days straight, including one whole day of work. Luckily my bosses thought I had just gotten back from a funeral, cause I think I told them I was going to one so I could get out of work a couple days before. 

Anyway, ever since then, I haven't been able to watch a movie with Rachel McAdams without crying like a baby. It's really awkward watching Wedding Crashers with my friends because I burst into tears every time she is on screen.

Anyway, before I start getting misty here, I'm sure the real reason you're here is to read about some more legal words that haunt my sole. That wasn't a typo. These words haunt the sole of my flip flop because one day I threw my law school notes on the ground and stomped on them in an insane rage because I was so fed up trying to wrap my ahead around all that bullplop, so, on top of everything else, I have haunted Reefs.  

Where was I? Oh yes. Words. Legal ones. Learning them. Do you want to? I think I know the answer to that. HELL NO! Well, guess what, we're going to anyway because we have to. Just think about all of the boring conversations you'll be able to have with people at cocktail parties and luncheons after this series is over. I know I have them. . . . . . . . . . a lot. 

So, let's get to it. Don't worry, It'll be as quick and painless as ripping off a band-aid. A band-aid made out of duct tape. That's covering a patch of pubic hair. Ok, thumbs up guys, PART C, let's do this!!   

• "IIED"--also known by its full name, Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress. It's proved by showing that the person "intentionally or recklessly" engaged in "extreme and outrageous conduct" that resulted in "severe emotional distress." How do you know if the "conduct" was "extreme and outrageous"? Well, it makes you stand up and say "that's outrageous!" Not a joke. Some judge wrote that as the legal standard for determining if conduct is extreme and outrageous. So, technically, nothing in real life qualifies, because who yells "that's outrageous!" when they see something, even if it is? If that's the standard, then I guess the closes thing to actually qualifying that I can think of is a spider monkey being an adult at 3 years old. (Wait for minute 1:27).  

• "Contributory Negligence"--remember negligence from yesterday's post? It's when you breach a duty (hehe). But sometimes, the injured person is just as big of a careless moron as the rich person they are blaming for their injury. Used to be that if this was the case, the injured person got jack squat. Now, they just get their money reduced by whatever percentage the jury finds they were at fault. Isn't that nice? They share! Everyone hold hands, and let's sing a round. I'll start. Kumbayaaaaa my looorrrrd. . . . 

• "Corporate Veil"--Did you know that corporations are people? That's right - they have freedom of speech rights, can enter contracts, sue or be sued, and they even poop (everyone does). Well, since corporations are people, when "they" do something wrong the corporation itself needs to be held accountable, not the poor, helpless CEOs and Directors. That wouldn't be fair. The "corporate veil" is a thin layer of netting material, usually white, that corporate officers and directors hide behind so they can't get in trouble for the bad things they do. But if you pierce the veil, then they are liable to pay all the money they owe, and hoooooooo boy, you know what that means. Government bailout!

• "Parol Evidence"--I know what you're thinking. Go on, say it. EHHHHHHHH WRONG! It's not evidence you present at a parol (which is actually spelled p-a-r-o-l-E) hearing. I thought the exact same thing. Good guess, though. Parol-without-the-e Evidence is actually some boring crap that has to do with something like trying to introduce evidence that's not a part of a written contract, but who the hell can keep track of these things when we have to prepare for our parole hearings? 

• "Respondeat Superior"--uh . . . um . . . see the thing about this is . . . . HEY! LOOK OVER THERE! (rapid footsteps down stairs, car engine starting and peeling away).

• "Present Sense Impression"--This is an exception to the "hearsay" rule we discussed on day 1. A "present sense impression" is a "statement describing an event made while the declarant (remember that one?) was perceiving the event." Basically, this rule stands for the notion that, if someone makes a statement about something while that something is happening, then the statement's probably reliable to use as evidence even if the person isn't testifying to it under oath. What this means for you is, if you ever get attacked, you should immediately start narrating in great detail. This may get harder the more savagely you get beaten, but try to keep it up--it could be well worth it down the road as evidence. Here's an example to get you started: "Hey Bob, I see that you are walking into the room rather quickly and brandishing a wooden baseball bat. Your face is flushed and you appear perturbed. You are saying to me that you know I slept with your wife. Now you are yelling at me to stop saying everything that you are saying, and to be a man and admit that I slept with your wife. Now you look really angry. Furious, actually. I'd even venture to say you look insane with rage. You are running at me at a rapid pace, and you appear to be winding up for a swing. Now you are swinging the bat at my head at full spe--" See, if someone heard you say all that, they could introduce it as evidence against Bob, even though it's hearsay. Learning is fun, huh?

• "Reasonable Suspicion that Criminal Activity Was Afoot"--It sounds like something Sherlock Holmes used to say to dear old Watson, once his heightened senses perceived a clue, but it's really just the excuse cops have to give when they feel you up. 

• "K" - For some inexplicable reason, this is the standard abbreviation used in law school for the word "contract." I don't really see it. True, "K" has the same aspirated sound when you pronounce it like a hard "c", the one that starts "contract", but, I mean it's kind of a stretch if you ask me. As far as I know, "C" isn't some widely used law-related abbreve, so I don't know why they couldn't have just used that. Anyway, it's also a slang term for agreeing to something when you're kind of in a pissy mood. ("Will you please take out the trash? I've asked you five times." "K.")

• "Exigent Circumstances"--a catch-all phrase cops use when they did something illegal but want to be able to use the evidence they found anyway, usually preceded by rapid shifty eyes coupled with a sheepish grin, and a mischievous shrug. JUDGE: "Officer, why did you break in front door without a warrant and beat a confession out of that elderly woman without reading her her Miranda Rights?" OFFICER: (slight pause,  rapid shifty eyes, eyes light up) "Exigent circumstance?" (sheepish grin, and a mischievous shrug). Everyone shares a huge laughing session, the end credits music kicks in, and the frame freezes as the judge and the officer walk away, arms around each other, while the elderly lady struggles to lift herself from the ground.

• "Meets and Bounds"--Let's say you have a map. Your standard Mercator Projection. Now, zoom in approximately 1 gajillion times so that you are about at 2 levels above Google Street view so you are looking at a single plot of land. And stare at it. What's more tedious and boring than this? I'll tell you what--"meets and bounds." This is where, instead of staring at a map of land, you read a paragraph describing the land in exhaustive detail, with no pictures at all. ("Start at the southeastern-most corner of blah blah blah. Turn 45 degrees north-north-west. walk approximately 50 paces. . . . ") It's sort of like the world's lamest treasure hunt because when it's all over, you end up right where you started. And there's no treasure. And you're still in law school. Joke's on you! Hey, law school, if I wanted to learn cartography, I would have gone to the Magellan Institute of Circumnavigation. COUNT IT!

Well, we appear to have reached the end of yet another installment of THE LIST. And just when I was starting to get mildly engaged in the content. What did I tell you - like a band-aid right? We'll just be walking with limps for a couple of days.  

I know I'll see you tomorrow, so, let's not say goodbye. Let's just say, au revoir. No, let's say goodbye.

MikeeP

Part II: My Life Was Better Before Law School Because I Never Knew These Words/Phrases Existed

Wow. You're back. 

I didn't expect to see you again.

No, not you . . . you, on the left. 

I knew you would be back. You have geek written all over you. I mean please, the hair. . . the clothes  . . . the fact that you read this blog. . . I mean, it's like your mom went to a sperm bank and she picked out a donor cocktail that was one part Milhouse Van Houten, one part Doc from Back to the Future, and one part that guy who invented Facebook, and out popped you 9 months later. 7 if you were a premie. I've never seen a nerd as big as you and I once bought a 15lb box of Nerds from Costco. This law school stuff is probably like candy to you. Nerds candy. Ok, this analogy has gotten out of control.

But I didn't think you would have the stomach to come back for another round of Law School Words that I blissfully didn't know existed until 3 years ago but are now forever seared in my brain just like a brand on a bull's ass. You remember the title of this series is "my life was better . . . BEFORE . . . I knew these words", right? Either you have short term memory loss, or you are a glutton for punishment, either way, I'm concerned, and you should probably seek some therapy. 

 Anyway, both of you shut up for a minute and listen to ME now. This is my blog, I have the floor. Or the wall. What I was trying to say earlier is that I wasn't kidding yesterday when I said that it was going to be a 4-5 part mini-series of blog posts about horrible Law School Words. This is happening, and I'm actually about to start in on today's words in just a minute. Any of you sons of bitches have a problem with that, you GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! 

Sorry, I just came back from a Lamaze Birthing Class, and I guess I picked up a little too much on what the instructor was saying. No, I wasn't there because I'm going to have a baby. I go for the free ice chips.

By the way, did you notice that I just recently figured out how to insert links into the text of my blog? 

Anyway, I was glad to hear, from some, that yesterday's post was both informative and stimulating, but I got some critiques as well. I think specifically, one person said, "MikeeP, I love you, but If I wanted to read something online written by a moron who is clearly just an attention whore and has what is obviously only an elementary grasp, if any, of the legal terminology they are discussing/using, I would follow myself on Twitter, you'betcha." Yes, that's right. Sarah Palin reads my blog.

Ok, you got me. She didn't actually write that. I knew you weren't fooled as soon as you realized that it was a coherent sentence. Here's some stuff she actually did say, though. She really does read my blog though, or so I'm told by what I consider to be credible sources (my neighbor's cat).  Hey, Pales (I call her "Pales"), I kid! Thanks for taking a break from reading the palm of your hand during speeches to read my blog. 

So, now that I got the biting political humor out of the way, I think we're ready for some more words. Please feel free to refer to yesterday's post if you want even more context. 

• "Fee Simple"--this does not mean an uncomplicated method of paying your lawyer for telling you if the court has jx in your case. Actually, a "fee simple" is a "stick" in the "bundle of property rights." It's the best stick because it has the sturdiest build and the least amount of knots. If you're lucky, sometimes it comes stained in a rich mahogany. It means that you own something for a perpetually infinite amount of time! Too bad you're mortal and going to have to face the fact that you will die one day. Anyway, until you do kick it, if anyone comes near the property you own in "fee simple", you can use this "stick" to bash them in the head, and the police are forbidden from doing anything about it (look it up, it's in the Constitution). For an even greater effect, try tying a pointy rock to the end. 

• "Equitable Servitude"--This is another simple one. This is nothing more than an agreement that you make with a neighbor to not do something on your land, such as start a nudist colony (something I'd never agree to). It's basically the exact same thing as a "real covenant." (haha! gotcha, that link didn't go anywhere on purpose).The only difference is when you sue someone for breaking an"equitable servitude", you can only sue them for injunctive relief, not damages, so don't mix the two up, dumbass. Oh, the other catch is that for an "equitable servitude" to be valid, it must "touch and concern the land." This sounds easy enough, but land, being the promiscuous hussy that it is, is rarely "concerned" when it is "touched." So, don't hold your breath on winning your lawsuit to enforce an "equitable servitude." 

• "Mailbox Rule"--this rule stands for the notion that, when 2 people are making a contract entirely by sending letters back and forth through the mail and never once meeting in person or speaking over the phone, or even by telegraph, one person has "accepted" an "offer" the MOMENT they dispatch the written acceptance, not when the person making the offer actually receives the acceptance. This rule only comes into play when one person is a total asshole and decides to legally hold you to the terms of a contract because they put a letter into the mailbox 2 minutes before you called them to tell them the deal was off. 

• "Minimum Contacts"--I always have trouble with this one. It's either the lowest possible prescription for your corrective lenses that you are allowed to wear when driving at night, or has something to do when you are trying to determine if a court has jx. Remember what I said yesterday about trying to understand when there is jx? Go get me that jaw-ripper thing from Saw and then kill yourself.

• "In Rem"--this comes from a famous case called Pennoyer v. Neff. Fuck that case.

• "Tort"--Recipe for Strawberry Tort: 

1 (16-ounce) package frozen strawberries, thawed

1 tablespoon cornstarch

2 (8-ounce) packages cream cheese

1 cup granulated sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 cups (1 pint) whipping cream

2 (12-ounce) packages ladyfinger cookies

1. Strain strawberries and set aside, reserving juices. In a saucepan bring cornstarch and strawberry juice to a gentle boil. Remove from heat and let cool.
2. Beat cream cheese, sugar, and vanilla together until smooth. In a separate bowl beat whipping cream until stiff peaks form. Fold whipped cream into cream cheese mixture.
3. Arrange ladyfingers around sides and bottom of the 8 or 9-inchspringform pan, standing ladyfingers lengthwise around sides of pan.Pour half the filling into pan, then place a layer of ladyfingers on top of filling. Pour remaining filling over ladyfingers. Spread strawberry sauce over top of cake and place the strawberries on top. Refrigerate for several hours before removing from pan.

Makes 8 servings.

• "Tortfeasor"--this is someone who commits a "tort," so also kind of like a pastry chef. Also known by some as a "tartfeasor." 

• "Remittur/Additur"--this is a process by which a judge tells the jury, "hey, I know you agreed to not go to work for four months so you could sit here and listen to scientists, (who have a personality like Ben Stein in Ferris Beuller, but real), drone for hours upon hours about the seepage rates of tetracycline for only $1 a day, and I know you then deliberated for 32 hours in order to decide on the amount of money this defendant should pay for poisoning these kids based on some complicated law, but I'm gonna just erase your verdict and tell them to pay what I think is fair. Thanks for stoppin' by, though. You were great!"

• "Proximate Cause"--See, in the law of "tarts", excuse me, "torts," someone who gets hurt sues the person with the most money who is at least tangentially connected to the accident (cause everyone knows, no pain reliever in the world compares with gettin' paid, yo!). Anyway, to determine if the person with the most money is "responsible" for the injury caused, you, as the attorney, first have to decide whether the rich person was negligent. You do this by determining if they owed the person who got hurt a "duty of care." If they did owe a duty (hehe, doodie), then you have to decide whether they breached that duty (hehe, doodie). If they did breach the duty, then they were negligent. Then, you have to decide if the person-with-money's breach of duty (hehe, doodie) was the "cause-in-fact" of the hurt person's injury. THEN you have to decide if the breach of duty was the "proximate cause" of the injury. It's basically like saying, "are you sure they caused the injury? Are you really sure? No, are you like totally, seriously, 100% sure? Like positive? Positive positive? For realsies?"  

• "Wanton Disregard"--a terrible, yet all-too-common tragedy that occurs when you order 3 entrees of Chinese take-out, and forget all about the fried crab wantons until you are too stuffed to eat another bite. It's rumored that if you wait 1 hour, you'll be hungry again and stop disregarding your wanton. MMMMMM, waaanntooonnn. Unfortunately, by that time it will be cold. 

That about wraps it up for Part II of the LIST. Boy, I don't know about you, but I could really use some pastries and Chinese food right about now. That always happens to me after thinking about the law. All I know is if any of you moochers get near my law-food, I'll be bashing you with my fee simple stick. 

In any case, I'll see you tomorrow. If I see you, then I'll know that you're the kind of person who, when they get kicked in the nuts, they lean into it. Until then, I'm off to Lamaze to get me some more ice chips. 

PLAY ME OUT, PALES!!

MikeeP