Anonymous asked: You and datebynumbers should go out on a date!
Given that she’s made out with my brother and slept with one of his best friends, it would probably be a pretty weird date.
She tried to set me up with one of her friends a few months ago, but apparently showing interest after a successful first date is the wrong thing to do. Who knew?
Free AIDS test!
I have great veins, and every time I give blood or have it taken, the nurse compliments me on them. Nurses taking my blood love me almost as much as women over 60 love me.
Now all I need to do is find a single 60 year old who’s a nurse and I’ll be all set.
Of course I like you.
This reminds me of a story.
Towards the end of my first year in law school, I started preparing for finals. Now, my finals preparation was a little different than that of most. Law students usually go to the library and reformat their notes from the semester into long outlines covering everything that was discussed in class. I went to the library and caught up on Breaking Bad episodes.
In an effort to make myself more accountable, I tried studying in the reading room for a little while. The reading room at Michigan Law is a beautiful Hogwarts-esque room full of long tables. I figured that if other people could see my laptop screen, I might be less inclined to screw around for hours at a time. This strategy didn’t work at all. Apparently not even the judging eyes of others are enough to keep me away from Walter White’s tragicomedy, but that’s not the point of this story.
Another tiny motivation to study in the reading room might have been all the stories I’d heard about undergraduate girls going there to pick up law students. As luck would have it, I sat down one morning across from a cute girl with a Biology book in front of her. (Fine, maybe it wasn’t luck. Maybe I intentionally sat down across from her. Who knows? This is just another one of life’s little mysteries.) She was wearing a long sleeve Michigan t-shirt, a Michigan baseball hat, and no makeup, so she probably wasn’t there to pick up law students. I figured I’d try my luck anyway.
I tore a piece of paper out of my notebook and wrote:
Hi,
I’m Ian. I think you’re really pretty. Would you like to get coffee with me sometime?
YES NO MAYBE (circle one)
After gathering my courage, I slid the note across the table.
She looked at me quizzically, unfolded it, and immediately turned bright red and started laughing. She nodded and slid the paper back to me. I laughed and whispered “You should probably give me your phone number then.”
She pulled the paper back, wrote her name and number, and handed it to me. I smiled, folded it up, and put it in my pocket.
OK cool. Great. So…um…what now? Do I start a whisper conversation with her? Do I sit here and pretend like I’m studying, even though I’m having a little trouble concentrating? Do I try and steal glances at her and catch her eye? Do I pretend like that didn’t just happen?
I decided to pretend like it hadn’t happened. And I’m a very bad pretender. We studied awkwardly across the table from each other for another half hour or so. You might ask, “How awkward can it be when you’re just sitting there and studying?” To which I would reply, “Trust me, incredibly awkward.”
Finally, she mercifully packed up and left so I could return my full focus to Walter White and his crazy shenanigans.
Moral of the story? Corny stuff like that actually works.
Anonymous asked: The people want to know: what's your lawyering take on SOPA?
It sucks, it’s unnecessarily broad, it’s probably unconstitutional, etc. You’ve heard it all.
But I kind of wish that our generation of internet-happy kids cared more about things like “There are Americans starving every day” and “There are entire generations of minorities handcuffed (often literally) by institutional racism” and “The income gap is widening with no sign of slowing” and “Wait, hedge fund managers only pay capital gains taxes on their income? Are you fucking kidding?” and “Why are we killing so many civilians in the Middle East?” than “I might not be able to go on Twitter if this law passes, so I better call my Congressman!”
Like, fuck man, I understand that this is another little bite out of civil liberty in this country, and that’s a big deal, but did you know that Guantanamo Bay is still open? Do you even know what Guantanamo Bay is, or why it matters? You know, that little place in Cuba that Obama said he’d close after he was elected three years ago?
I get it, getting your website shut down without due process would suck. What the fuck would you do all day if you can’t play on the internet?
You know what would suck more? Getting put in jail for 10 fucking years without due process.
If this SOPA/PIPA uproar is an indication of wider political activism within our generation, excellent. If it’s just a bunch kids getting angry because someone told them they might not be able to go on Twitter anymore, then fuck that.
I’m not watching The Bachelor this year. Now that I’m a grownup with actual responsibilities like making copies and hole-punching those copies and putting those hole-punched copies in binders, I just don’t have the time to watch and recap it like I used to. Plus, I can’t steal my roommates’ jokes anymore so the recaps probably wouldn’t even be funny.
So in lieu of my old recaps, I offer you this: my Bachelor rules.
This is also, incidentally, a list of reasons that I could never be The Bachelor. That and the fact that I would never go on The Bachelorette, and the two shows have just become a round-robin circle-jerk clusterfuck of former contestants.
On Friday night I went out to dinner a friend of mine, the inimitable Maxwell. (I really just wanted to use “inimitable” in a sentence. He’s not that great.) Afterwards, we parted ways. I went to my favorite place in the five boroughs, Upstate. I sat at the bar and made new friends, while downing oysters and beers. Well, it turns out that the beers they serve at Upstate are a little bit stronger than Bud Lights. And I probably didn’t really NEED the champagne afterwards, but you gotta live while you’re alive, right? Long story short, I was hammered.
I said my goodbyes, stumbled out and made my way home. For some reason I had the cabbie drop me off south of Times Square. Maybe I wanted to walk through Times Square when it was empty? Maybe I told him the wrong address? Maybe I jumped out of a moving cab at full speed? All possible. No one will ever know for sure.
What I do know for sure is that, while walking, I heard someone say, “Hey, what are you doing?”
I looked to my right. An extremely attractive blonde in a white Escalade on huge chrome rims was rolling alongside me.
I looked around. Just me on the street. I pointed at myself. She nodded.
“I’m walking home,” I finally replied.
“Want to get a little naughty?”
WHAT. I looked around again. Yep, still just me on the street.
I stopped walking and turned towards her car. Honesty is the best policy, right?
“I don’t mean to be rude, but are you a prostitute?”
She smirked. ”Well, I work for an escort service.”
“Ah. I don’t pay for sex. I do fine.” [Don’t worry Mom, I was lying. I don’t do fine. I don’t do anything. What’s sex?]
I gestured to her Escalade. ”You look like you do pretty well for yourself too.”
She laughed and drove away.
I’ve been informed that on Jersey Shore last night Vinnie got essentially same haircut I got last year.
He didn’t even try to pull off racing stripes. Wimp.
You should put this in your ears. I highly recommend “Overdue” and “Criminal”, to start.
