| ENCOUNTERS OF YORE (Well, of yesterday and a few days before that.) |
| The other day, I encountered... |
| Deep concern. While discussing sweatshops and corporate rules of conduct, an international student from Mexico defended the use of child labor in the apparel factories. Her reason? "Because their hands are very little. They're very good at it." At that point, I sat on my own hands in case she got any ideas. |
| A nature hike with my dad. (Alright, it was just a 30 second walk from the car to the restaurant. We, Chungs, don't do nature.) My dad sees a bird. Dad: Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!" (Note: my dad loves pulling out random quotes at random times.) Me: How do you know that's a raven? Dad: I don't know. I don't know. They all look alike...ravens, crows, blackbirds. Me: Blackbirds? Dad: Well, blackbirds...they're black. Me: Oh. (silence) |
| An engagement. Not mine. A girl who sits in my row. The fourth engagement this semester in this row alone. "Eek! We're all engaged now!" one girl exclaims looking down the row. "Oh...," she pauses. I look up to a row of pitying eyes. "Except you," she says. "Oh, but you'll be next!" Yeah, I'll be next...to kick your ass. Speaking of ass kickings, only in law school will you find a person who has the chutzpah to insist on holding a class make-up session at 5:30 PM to accomodate her schedule and then not even show up. Hell hath no fury... |
| Self-discovery through online personality tests. I have several personality disorders, including paranoid, schizoid, and obsessive-compulsive. Also, if I was a book in the Bible, I would be Leviticus. |
| A Marshmallow Launcher. My dad and I tried it out in the backyard. At first, he had me run back and forth (like a deer) so he could shoot me. When it became clear that his idea wasn't working out (he forgot to load the launcher with marshmallows; he also became distracted by wanting to eat the ammunition), I had him run back and forth while I aimed the launcher. Once I hit his face, he agreed to play only if he could cover his cheeks while running. Needless to say, he quit soon thereafter. Family fun for everyone. |
| The Littlest Groom. (Note: no one really plans on watching this show. It just happened to be on.) This show evoked so many conflicting feelings. When the groom said his favorite movie was Stuart Little, was it okay to laugh? Were the mini-rose bouquets cute...or degrading? When they went to the driving range, was it okay for me to think that there was some other golf activity that would have been more...fitting? Though I complain, I know I'll watch it next week for the finale. |
| Interview Season 2004. Interview #1: She tells me to "slip out of interview mode" and asks how my friends would describe me. I take her seriously, and the only words that come to mind are "blunt" and "sarcastic." After uttering these things, I quickly come to the conclusion that my friends are jerks. I then resort to lying. Interview #2: The woman had a stray eye. I fix my bra strap, thinking she wasn't looking. She was looking. Interview #3: It's always a little jarring when the interviewer uses the word "sh!t" and "f**k" during the conversation. But those ACLU'ers just can't get enough of their free speech. |
| A woman brushing her teeth on the bus. While I applaud her zealous commitment to fighting the good fight against plaque, there's a time and place for everything. Also, she never spit. I wasn't sure whether to be disgusted or relieved. |
| More self-discovery. If I was a Federal Rule of Civil Procedure, I'd be Rule 11. "You were a real hardass in 1983. . .. Sure, you keep things running on the up and up, but it's clear things would be a lot more fun without you around." If I were a Peanuts character, I would be Franklin. The token minority in a sea of big-headed white people. So, so true. |
| News of spring break festivities. I'm going to a Rockets game with my dad. But that's not where the action is: "I just found out there's an additional bonus with our basketball game this coming Saturday. Prior to the game, from 4p to 6p, all single people with tickets can participate in an '8 Minute' dating event. For more details, just type www.rockets.com. Let me know if you want to participate. If so, be sure to bring home your retainer." My dad is trying to pimp me out. |
| Greatness. |
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| Yes. That's what it says. Julie Chen (affectionately known as "Chen-bot" in chatroom circles), host of America's favorite reality tv series, "Big Brother," is watching me. Thank you, Phil, for hooking me up. Those many years of friendship have finally paid off. |
| Conversation on current events: Dad: What we need to be careful about [in Iraq] are these IEDs...improvised explosive devices. Me: Why don't they just call them booby traps? Dad: No, "booby traps" implies something different. Me: Like, coke cans stuffed with an explosive. It's the same thing. Dad: No, a booby trap would also include, say, wires strung up to decapitate bicyclists. Me: ... Dad: It's just something I've thought about. |
| Life as a bureaucrat. Week 1: The phone in my cubicle has no coil that attaches the handset to the phone base. I am informed that it could take several weeks to file the right papers to get a replacement coil. Luckily, my mentor (yes, that would make me a protege) assures me that she has "connections" and is able to get me a coil within a week. She also hooks me up with a stapler. I become the envy of all interns--most of whom received only a pen and some rubber bands for desk supplies. In contrast to last summer, none of the interns are vegetarians. Thank goodness. Week 2: DC is known for having high lead concentration in its drinking water. But we're told not to drink from the water coolers unless we're willing to pay water cooler membership fees. Fortunately, after a series of angry emails over this contentious issue, we're granted permission to drink lead-free water from the cooler, provided that our supervisors are willing to cover our fees. I am also assigned to the Ice Cream Social Committee. What a great way to pad the resume. Week 3: I'm feeling gutsy and inquire about setting up voice mail on my phone. I'm passed around to six different people, the seventh promising me voice mail by the start of the following week. The next day, we all receive an email from the head of the office, informing interns that we will be denied voice mail privileges and should utilize email for all communication. The interns are mad at me for stirring up trouble. But at least we get lead-free water. A man in the break room tells me that he tells all his friends that if he ends up with an Asian lady, he'll always be well fed. This comment leaves me puzzled. Week 4: I confront my supervisor about the Buffy calendar hanging on his wall. He at first denies his love for the show, but then challenges me, asking how many seasons on DVD do I own. I set the files on his desk and quickly exit his office. Week 5: We all receive slightly-new (refurbished) flat screen computers. We're all excited. But then they find out they don't have enough and they take the new computers away from us. Oh well. |
| Tourists on the subway. Two boys (brothers) were fighting over a seat. One gave the older brother a serious wedgie. In retaliation, the older brother hit the younger brother in the crotch. It was an uncomfortable moment for all of us. |
| Songs of encouragement. Dad: Jess, you should sing some happier songs to cheer you up. Me: Like what? Dad: (singing) Camptown ladies sing this song, do-dah! Do-dah! Camptown racetrack's five miles long, oh de do-dah day!! Me: What does that song even mean? Dad: I dunno. I think the slaves use to sing it to get them through their drudgery. Me: Why would slaves be excited about racetracks? Dad: You know, they get excited when the games come to town. Me: What games? Dad: Like the Olympics. |
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| Affirmation on the bus from a man donning a yellow raincoat (hood-on, even though it wasn't raining outside). Every action I took was met by a loud grunt, a toothy smile, and a thumbs up. I put a book in my bag. He grunted, smiled, thumbs up. I pulled the bus cord. He grunted, smiled, thumbs up. It was very encouraging, to say the least. Speaking of thumbs up . . . I got a digital camera. Let the good times begin. |
| Thanksgiving lessons. Dad: This turkey almost has the texture of a ham. I think it's because I brined it. Me: How is that? Dad: Because brining changes the molecular structure of the meat, so the texture changes. Me: How is it possible to change the meat of a bird so much that it will have the the texture of a pig? Dad: What? It can be done!! Haven't you ever eaten Canadian bacon?! Me: (silence) Yes. Dad: Oh, wait... |
| My dad's dream of Christmas: "I had a weird dream last night (must be a byproduct of the exciting Rockets game we saw last night). It was just a series of vignettes, but one of them had me putting you in a small box for Christmas and then placing it under the Christmas tree! I left holes in the box so you could see and talk, and when I asked how you were doing, you just said "Uncomfortable". But since you didn't complain, I just left you under the tree, presumably to be open on Christmas!" |
| Secrets of the law faculty, unveiled. Email from a professor: "I regret to inform you that I must reschedule the class scheduled for Wednesday. As you probably know, most rescheduling of classes here is because of the faculty's attraction to tropical beaches, booze and group sex. This probably makes it more difficult for you to generate enthusiasm about makeups scheduled for 4:30 a.m. on Sundays. I feel your pain." Who knew? |
| Unwarranted suspicion. In receiving training to become a mentor, I asked the counselor if there were any boundaries I should be sure to observe, e.g. focusing on academic topics rather than devoting time to non-academic areas. His reply: "Well, we're going to run a background check on you to make sure you're not a sex offender." Um, not the kind of "boundaries" I had in mind. But good to know. |
| Invitation to a heart attack. Earlier this week, I saw a homeless woman on the bus eating a can of Wolf Brand Chili. She made it look so tasty that I bought a can for myself. And it wasn't bad! Flavorful and hearty. What a treat! Granted, I think my heart may have stopped beating a few times, between bites. And I'm sure it didn't help that I had a ribeye last night for dinner and pork chops the night before that. And as one friend pointed out, there may be enough preservatives in one can to prevent my body from properly decomposing. But I figure at that point, it's not really my problem. |
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| My chili had beans. |
| How to kill a conversation. Classmate: I was telling my husband how you don't believe in pets. Me: It's not that I don't believe in pets. I don't believe in the concept of pets. Classmate: The difference being? Me: I don't deny that the animal exists, like a unicorn. I just don't believe in taking care of an animal that (a) doesn't help me with my chores or (b) I can't eat. My question to the animal: What can you do for me? Classmate: Pets give you unconditional love. Me: Unconditional? Are you kidding me? Do you think your pet will love you if you don't feed it, walk it, pet it? Pets drain your pocketbook. Classmate: Well . . . Me: If you pay a hooker enough money, she'll show you "unconditional love." Should I have interpreted her look of shock as one of reverence, awed by my compelling argument? Or one of horror because I just likened her dog to a hooker? |
| Aw, you're cute. But can you operate a Swiffer? |
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| Feel like our self-obsessed me-culture doesn't have enough out there to make kids feel more important than they really are? Get them a MyTwinn Doll! What better way to cultivate narcissism at a young, impressionable age? Over-inflated egos aside, the concept is just creepy. I know I'm somewhat biased, given the fact that I would never want to be friends with myself, but really. It's weird. Also, doesn't a doll that's your clone signal to the world: "I'm not cool enough to make friends, so I had to breed my own"? (I admit, however, that I've uttered a similar sentiment when explaining why I'd like to one day have children.) Some might argue this is a great alternative to Barbie, in that it reinforces positive self-body image. But I thought being insecure about one's looks is like a rite of passage. Or at least that's what I told myself...to get through those dark, merciless years of puberty. If only I had a MyTwinn back then. |
| A disturbing story about a childhood treat. Over dim sum, my parents and I reminisced about the parties we'd have at the cemetery (a.k.a. ancestral worship), where my grandmother would prepare trays of those fried sesame seed balls. Unlike the perfectly round balls you find in the restaurants, my dad told us that she would purposely create a "little tip" on each ball as a "fertility sign." He explained: "So that each would be in the shape of a testicle." I'm always game for a little dose of fertility, but I wasn't very hungry after hearing this family tidbit. |
| Weekend observations. My foray into being a recycling tree hugger. I ran out of foil earlier this week, but I didn't buy a new roll since I'm moving out of my apartment soon. But I really needed some today, so . . . out of desperation, I went to my freezer, looked for the meats I had packaged in both saran wrap and foil, removed the foil, and used it to cover the bottom of a pan. Am I lazy? Cheap? Or GENIUS?? The most bureaucratic title I've recently encountered : General Deputy General Counsel. This title doesn't quite top the "Office of Federal Offices," but it's a close second. Bicycle lingo. What do you call it when you are riding a bicycle, and a person rides on the back of your bicycle seat? Wouldn't you call that "pumping"? "My sister used to pump me on her bike." "Hey, you wanna pump?" "We took turns pumping each other." It wasn't until recently did some people point out that this term sounded obscene. (Though last week, a friend confirmed that he, too, used the term "pumping," but he is from Kentucky and admits that rather than a family tree, he has a "family wreath.") But I really thought "pumping" was a universal term. |
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| A whole lot of pumping goin' on. |
| Lessons learned from playing basketball with a twelve-year old: Lesson #1: Never make the stakes high (e.g., all As on the report card) when you're playing a game you're not likely to win (e.g., HORSE). Lesson #2: However, if the kid is a little pudgy and under five feet tall, up the stakes when you challenge him to a re-match for the third time, because these kids tire easily, and the game is in your favor. Lesson #3: Don't play games where trash talking and cuss words easily slip from your mouth (e.g., "I'm gonna make you my b!&*h" is not a nice thing to say to a child). Lesson #4: The trash talk phrase, "I'm the bus driver...I'm takin' you to school, child!" is a passe phrase, not used among today's youth. It will only be received with looks of confusion and puzzlement, rather than intimidation and fear. Lesson #5: Be careful. Kids are tricky. (e.g., after I won the third rematch, thus winning the bet that required him to get all As for the six-weeks, he tells me that today was the last day of the grading period, and it was too late.) Lesson #6: Adults are flexible and accommodating. (e.g., I responded, "That's okay...you just need to make all As on your next report card.") Lesson #7: Kids are suckers. (e.g., to which he responded, "Aww, man...") Lesson #8: "Life is tough, and it'll always be full of unwanted pressure."--my response to his complaint that all my bets and wagers were putting too much pressure on him, causing him to miss his shots. Also, a special shout-out to my mom, who heard my desperate cry for help and bought me a roll of foil. |
| Dramatization of Supreme Court holdings: |
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