Birthday Weekend Wrap-Up

Prior to dinner last night, I was having one of the most depressing birthdays I can remember. Maybe it was the fact that I was away from home, maybe that I had to study Contracts, maybe that I couldn’t get the Apple Cup on TV, and maybe it was due to my hangover.

That all changed thanks to a delicious dinner at Fuel and a great party at C.J. and Brody’s place. Thank you to all who came out to help me celebrate the big 23. A few stories/notes from my birthday weekend:

1) On Friday night after midnight, my birthday celebration began courtesy of my buddies and a few random people at the Buddhist Biker Bar who were kind enough to buy me Jaiger bombs and shots. It was reminiscent of my 21 run but without that unfortunate incident involving a Bushmill’s whiskey collector’s tin serving as a substitute for a toilet at the bar.

Now, it is well known that I am a firm believer in the equality of the sexes in terms of the opportunities offered to broads. That includes the opportunity to get in a fight with me on my birthday if you are being a bitch. Chivalry is dead. Before you get too excited, the fight did not get physical but there was plenty of yelling between me and some undergrad girls.

It began when I was making fun of the undergrad guys here at UVa. Some of these guys really take Frat Code to the next level with multiple pastel polo shirts, all collars popped with a requisite visor. Apparently the girls took offense to my comments and decided to crank the bitch dial up to about an 11. They then decided to tell me that they were going to make more money than me, one in investment banking (IB) and the other after she got out of law school (LS). At that point I told LS that she was probably too dumb to get into law school, to which she responded “I have a 3.9 GPA.” This is where the conversation got interesting:

Mambels: 158
LS: What?
Mambels: 158
LS: Excuse me?
Mambels: 158. I guaran-F-ing-tee you will not score higher than a 158 on your LSAT.

LS then proceeded to attack the academic integrity of the University of Washington. At this point I asked for both of the girls names so I could look them up on the directory to email them later to remind them how awful they are. One of the girl’s last names was Harp.

Mambels: Harp, kind of like the ferry.
LS: Or Harper’s Ferry.
Mambels: I said it was kind of like the ferry. Are you accusing me of not knowing my American history? I know my f-ing American history!

My friends interjected here:

Mambel’s buddy: You girls should be nice to him, it’s his birthday.
IB: I don’t care if it’s his birthday.
Mambels: (says nothing, extends his two middle fingers and sticks one in each of the girl’s faces before parting ways)

2) There were purple and gold Jello shots at my party.

3) There were fireworks at my party.

4) There were cupcakes at my party.

5) I returned last night without my keys and without my underwear.

Thank you all for a wonderful 23rd birthday!

Cardozo with a Mustache

A quick thought before I go to bed tonight:

As I keep reading the judicial opinions of Justice Cardozo, I just realized that the person I picture writing these opinions is Edward James Olmos, who is kind enough to read the opinions to me in my head.

Why? Olmos played the first Hispanic Supreme Court Justice Mendoza on the West Wing, which I guess sounds like Cardozo.

Live the High Life

Occasionally my friends back home will call me out just to make sure I am the same person that left Seattle three months ago. Move 3000 miles and people think you're going to pick up an accent, dress in a new manner, and change your drinking preferences. Although I have picked up this insatiable desire to play Big Buck Hunter II Sportman's Paradise at any chance, (it is in every bar in this city) I promise you all this: I remain accent free and continue to live the High Life.

A few recent notes about the "Champagne of Beers:"

1. My roommate and I sacrificed part of our damage deposit yesterday when the apartment maintenance guy had to come out and fix our garbage disposal. According to our lease, there are certain repairs that we have to pay for and others that we don't, based on the cause of damage. Typically a clogged garbage disposal would be an expense covered by the good folks here at Ivy Garden. However, apparently some metal object had clogged the disposal as a result of my negligence. When the maintenance guy repaired the disposal, he showed us what had been the cause of our problems: a shredded Miller High Life bottle cap.

2. I own a High Life sweatshirt, the former spoils from a victorious night of trivia at Dante's. Like so many t-shirts and sweatshirts I acquired during my undergraduate years, my mother has kindly asked me not to wear these items in public. Sorry Mom. The High Life sweatshirt made its debut in class last Friday, complete with sweatpants and a backwards cap. On a related note, I've realized that I might be getting too old to wear t-shirts that contain profanity. I've worn my "Canada Kicks Ass" t-shirt a few times and have noticed some concerned stares.

3. Two weeks ago, prior to the Public Interest Law Association (PILA) auction, I went to a pre-party complete with a selection of fine coctails, veggie/meat/cheese trays, and Coltrane being pumped through the room. Reminiscent of so many fraternity and sorority functions, everyone donning suits and dresses pretended to be real adults for a few hours before getting sloshed and bidding on an RV. (Maybe that last part wasn't so much like a Greek system function) After my first Jack and Coke, I discovered, much to my delight, a tub of High Life cans. They were at that perfect temperature that cannot be attained by mere refrigeration, but requires a large tub or garbage can full of ice and water. I opened a can and was immediately approached by the other three guys at the party drinking the champagne. We formed an instant bond and those guys are like brothers to me now.

4. Finally, I'd just like to point out that now there's a light way, to live the High Life.

Last Call on My Memo...

I have always been amazed by those people that are able to work ahead and get a jump on assignments. That Thursday night before a big paper is due, they are sitting around playing Srabble, watching Everybody Loves Raymond, or whatever it is "those" people do, while I'm frantically working against the clock in the library. I respect those people, but it's in a loathing sort of way.

Procrastination has and always will be my mode of operation. I've tried to change but like an alchi in relapse, I just keep coming back to the bottle. My major memorandum is due in less than 36 hours now and I am struggling at best. *For those of you back home not familiar with this 1L rite of passage, the major memorandum is the one large research based writing assignment of the first semester addressing some hypothetical case)

To quote Office Space, "It's not that I'm lazy, it's that I just don't care." Granted, I haven't taken a math class for the better part of a decade but work with these numbers: I am currently enrolled in 15 credits of classes where I will receive letter grades that affect all future employment opportunities. This 1 credit Legal Research and Writing class is Pass/Fail. PBR's are $1.50 this Thursday night. Perhaps the alchi analogy was better than I thought...

Now according to a friend of mine at UC Hastings Law, it is possible to fail LR&W. And, according to my professor here at UVa, this class is not "pass/pass but rather pass/fail. Remember that. It's do or die time." (a guy from my section was called into the woodshed for this little lecture on his work ethic)

So screw you, Mr. Triple Word score, you have your game and your delightful situation comedy. It's last call on my assignment and I've barely begun to drink. (is this metaphor working? Please comment below. Otherwise it's just giving me the jones for a High Life)

Sorry Brians

To those of you out there commenting on the lack of frequency in my posting over the last few days, may I remind you that I do have additional responsibilities- such as picking the location for Bar Review, keeping my fantasy football roster up to date, and the occasional school assignment. Fear not loyal readers (both of you), I've readjusted my schedule and implemented the following plan to make more time for what's truly important in my life:

1) All friends whose names start with letters B-G will no longer be a part of my life.

2) Bar Review will be at the Buddhist every week. (for my friends back home, that place is sweet)

3) Heavy napping will be reintroduced into my life in order to open up precious hours in the 12:00 to 3:00AM time period in which I thrive.

Those that knew me in my college days, should find it as little surprise that I enjoy the "siesta" lifestyle. I'm not talking about those 20 minute power nap in your desk chair or couch that corporate America is pushing you into buying. Nope, I want two or three hours, in bed, lights out. I have not once accomplished anything during the hours of 4:00 to 6:00 PM ever, why should I waste these hours awake?

I once delivered a speech my Freshman year of college in a Speech class on the benefits of napping. One point I made was that the average life expectancy in Spain, where they enjoy a daily siesta was something like 77, while in non-napping Afghanistan it was somewhere in the 30's. Think about that. When you get on the bus, you get there. (NWH) My professor informed me I was being culturally insensitive, and that apparently Afghanistan has a history of warfare and strife. Like I said, I was a Freshman; blame public schools.