"A man in love is incomplete until he has married. Then he's finished."
~Zsa Zsa Gabor
Friday, January 25, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Pass the mint jelly
In the throws of taking the California bar exam for the second time (and yes, I mean "throws" as if to say "In frustration Pete throws his MBE/essay/PT book or laptop or neighbor's cat across the room with tremendous force.") I have decided that I must find another hobby. When one says one desires the life of an academic one must take into consideration professional certification exams and the nightmare that is preparing for them. Otherwise one is a muttonhead.
I am a muttonhead.
Truncated holidays, little to no personal time with wife and daughter, littler time to commune with one's pillow, ballooning churlish figure, being the only individual in recorded history personally boycotted by representatives of the United Farm Workers Union standing in solidarity with their coffee bean-picking brethren whose labor loads have increased tenfold since I started studying again--these are just some of the factors that have caused me to consider afresh my roster of recreational activities. And while I find the personal letters of admiration and support from the presidents of Starbucks, Dunkin' Donuts, Folgers, Maxwell House, PepsiCo, and some slave driving coffee plantation owner named Jorge amusing, I truly doubt this Bar exam process is worth (a) the suffering I put my family through; (b) the frustration expended every other day by my wildly varying state of emotional stability; (c) the money spent in caffeine, travel, caffeine, fees, caffeine, study materials, and caffeine; and (d) the energy necessary to bellow orders at the picketers to stop bashing my car with their signs. Dudes, it's just bean juice!
Lucky for me I'm a muttonhead. Otherwise I might experience some disapprobation over this situation. Fortuitously I am the possessor of an indefatigable spirit of German élan; ergo I’m a muttonhead that wants spread his penguin-like wings and ... flop? Eat raw seafood! Er… swim in arctic waters…?
Perhaps the analogy needs some massaging. Unfortunately, nature and genetics have robbed me of this opportunity altogether and I must now pass through life as a hunky (read chunky), god-like (read Bacchus), corporate caffeine captivated cretin.
Does whacking picketers constitute a hobby?
/s Muttonhead
N.B. The next time you see Kel, give her a hug. It's pretty hard on her to care for the baby AND Piper during this time....
I am a muttonhead.
Truncated holidays, little to no personal time with wife and daughter, littler time to commune with one's pillow, ballooning churlish figure, being the only individual in recorded history personally boycotted by representatives of the United Farm Workers Union standing in solidarity with their coffee bean-picking brethren whose labor loads have increased tenfold since I started studying again--these are just some of the factors that have caused me to consider afresh my roster of recreational activities. And while I find the personal letters of admiration and support from the presidents of Starbucks, Dunkin' Donuts, Folgers, Maxwell House, PepsiCo, and some slave driving coffee plantation owner named Jorge amusing, I truly doubt this Bar exam process is worth (a) the suffering I put my family through; (b) the frustration expended every other day by my wildly varying state of emotional stability; (c) the money spent in caffeine, travel, caffeine, fees, caffeine, study materials, and caffeine; and (d) the energy necessary to bellow orders at the picketers to stop bashing my car with their signs. Dudes, it's just bean juice!
Lucky for me I'm a muttonhead. Otherwise I might experience some disapprobation over this situation. Fortuitously I am the possessor of an indefatigable spirit of German élan; ergo I’m a muttonhead that wants spread his penguin-like wings and ... flop? Eat raw seafood! Er… swim in arctic waters…?
Perhaps the analogy needs some massaging. Unfortunately, nature and genetics have robbed me of this opportunity altogether and I must now pass through life as a hunky (read chunky), god-like (read Bacchus), corporate caffeine captivated cretin.
Does whacking picketers constitute a hobby?
/s Muttonhead
N.B. The next time you see Kel, give her a hug. It's pretty hard on her to care for the baby AND Piper during this time....
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Love Languages
I have not quite figured out why it is permissible within my household to form a posse and gang up on me but when such possefication is directed at Kel, she curls up in a ball and squeaks, "Don't hurt Piper's mommy!!!" Cute, but irritating in the sense that all efforts to tickle and/or otherwise benignly institute assaults on her person are effectively estopped by my laughing.
Of course, being an American of German extraction, I know that not all disputes are effectively resolved through physical means. Negotiation is also useful. So please, gentle reader, offer me advice on how to respond when, in a moment of conciliatory gentility, I attempted to talk through our differences rather than resort to said physical resolution and was met with, "NO HABLO SPRECHEN ZIE FRANÇOIS!"
Leaves me wondering who this self-contained U.N. chap named François is and what he's doing tickling my wife....
Of course, being an American of German extraction, I know that not all disputes are effectively resolved through physical means. Negotiation is also useful. So please, gentle reader, offer me advice on how to respond when, in a moment of conciliatory gentility, I attempted to talk through our differences rather than resort to said physical resolution and was met with, "NO HABLO SPRECHEN ZIE FRANÇOIS!"
Leaves me wondering who this self-contained U.N. chap named François is and what he's doing tickling my wife....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
