A Parrot With Better Speaking Abilities Than Me

Alex the amazing African Grey Parrot who helped Dr. Irene Pepperburg with her research died unexpectedly. Click here for the news article if you’re interested.

Because of Alex we now know that the incredibly simple brain of a bird is more agile than previously assumed. Merlyn, the African Grey Parrot who lives in a room in my house, has used the correct words in connection with events on more than one occasion. Based on my own experiences, I’ve never doubted Dr. Pepperburg’s results with Alex, although there were those who expressed doubts about Alex’s cognitive abilities.

In fact, I’m pretty sure most parrots express themselves better than me. Witness two text messages sent to J this afternoon by moi:

Upon discovering that the automatic sprinkling system was turned off:

“When you get home plz turn on outside water. My pretty shit is dying.”

And then when Wakonda wouldn’t finish his dinner:

“ur malamute eats like a girlie-girl.”

He didn’t reply to either message. Go figure.

Tolstoy

I am a book addict. I must be engaged with a book at all times. I must read at night before I go to sleep every single night. Heaven for me is discovering a series I like because then buying books is a no-brainer for awhile. Although I gobble up books, only about one out of every twenty really hits the spot. The books that don’t hit the spot are just the filler in between each really great book. I am always on the hunt for the next really great book that completely takes over my imagination.

Now that the bar exam is over and law school is over (repeat ten times and down a jello shot after each section) I’ve decided to tackle an overdue project – reading Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. While browsing at Barnes and Noble recently, I remembered my goal and headed off to the literature aisle containing authors beginning with the letter “T”.

The first wrinkle in my adventure was spotting a banner across the book proudly proclaiming that it was Oprah’s summer pick. Shit. I’m sick of Oprah picking books because every book I pick is purchased by moi because I am interested the book for my own reasons, not because Oprah said so dammit. Luckily the Oprah banner was easily removable so I shook it off and decided to go ahead and buy the book spite of Oprah. (Explanation: Such a book is a library collection keeper, but not so much if it has an Oprah sticker marring the cover.)

I took my giant Tolstoy book up to the counter with a few other books I collected during my browsing. A young woman (girl) rang up my books and asked if Anna Karenina was the most recent Oprah pick. I told her I didn’t know, but I hoped the book would be good. Then I laughed and said that because it is so famous, it must be good to someone. She blinked and said, “Really, it’s famous?”

Stunned.

I clenched my teeth, stretched my grimace into a pretend smile and just nodded while I swiped my debit card.

Tolstoy….anything….famous. Anna Karenina….really….famous.

Okay, so this is probably a summer job for her and knowing her employer’s products probably won’t build her lifetime career track at this point. But she works in a book store and we’re talking about Tolstoy.

There’s really nothing more to say. Contemplate.

I Didn’t Realize The Enormity of the Problem

Post-traumatic Fart Syndrome.

(Click above-it’s a linkie.)

I am rendered speechless by the incredible timing of this Salon piece.

Day Two of Bar Exam Ugly

Okay, I’m tired. Really, really tired.

Today was just weird. Quite a few questions were strange cross-overs with bizarre fact patterns. Actually, I think I pretty much tubed the first question of the day.

Everyone I talked to felt the same about today’s questions. Yesterday everyone looked tired, yet alert from nerves, and slightly triumphant at the end of the day. Today, everyone looked wasted, resigned, shaken, grim, pissy and downright uncomfortable at the end of the day. I’m glad I’m not alone. Misery loves company.

Tomorrow is limited to Professional Responsibility occurring over two and half hours. I have to get up at the uncivilized hour of five ay-em, but it’s the LAST day and a short one.

I know you all are curious about the farter. The dweeb continued to stink up our table today, but it wasn’t relentless like yesterday. Still, my nose twitched enough to be mightily annoyed. Today at the first break he not only popped one breath mint in his mouth, but he carefully set one aside for later. It took a lot of restraint not to give him a firm suggestion as to which orifice he should place his standby breath mint.

Bar Exam Day One. Unexpected Issue.

The first big day is over. Woot! It honestly wasn’t as bad as I expected which I’ll take as a good sign. Out of the nine questions for today I felt a squishy on three and pretty confident on six. Not bad for the first day. Being able to somewhat predict tomorrow’s subjects compacted my review time tonight, which is good because my brain is most definitely not a sponge tonight.

However, I had a rather bleak experience which brings me to the Unexpected Issue. The student I’m assigned to sit with (two per table) apparently carries his nerves in his intestines. resulting in the unfortunate phenomenon of constant gas passing – and I mean constant. The wind breaking is not audible, however, it is most insulting to my olfactory senses. In other words, the dude stinks badly. It was relentless to the point of distraction.

All. Freakin’. Day.

Yes, this situation is hysterical in hindsight (did I just say “hind”) or from a distance (a big distance). But while enduring the onslaught believe me, it is most unfunny. Frankly, by mid-morning it was pissing me off.

I was amazed that he broke out the breath mints during the breaks. Pointless?

I’ll end this gross post with nod to tort law, i.e., was I battered by this gentleman? Battery is an intentional harmful or offensive contact to plaintiff’s person. It was very offensive. However, did he intend to fart non-stop, or did he negligently ingest spicy food the night before the bar exam? This could go on and I could not stand myself if I continued. Lights out.

Barbri assimilated my dreams

The other night I woke up between dreams and realized I was categorizing my dreams while dreaming into outlined lists.

Sick, sick, sick.

Cheated

Recently, our tomato garden produced an amazing specimen. How to put this …well, it was erect. It had an appendage. I was fascinated.

I wanted to freeze this fascinating tomato forever in time, but our camera was out of batteries. I saved the tomato obsessively. I rooted around other tomatoes to slice, leaving The Tomato unmolested for its photographic debut.

Yesterday J came wandering into the kitchen with new batteries for the camera. I eagerly headed for the basket to dig up my subject.

It was gone.

I yelped at J, “Where is that tomato?!” Stumped he looked at the basket of tomatos and asked for more specificity. I shrieked back, “The penis-tomato!!” He started laughing and then a look of guilt passed over his face. I was heartbroken.

He ate it.

I then browbeat him for awhile interrogating him about his tomato-picking practices, and didn’t he realize I was saving that special tomato?! With all the tomatoes in the basket did he have to eat that one?!

J finally backed out of the kitchen keeping a wary eye on me until he was out of range. I stood in the kitchen fuming while staring at my basket of utterly useless tomatoes.

Really…I was?

My aunt (shout out to the aunt) sent me a crazy quiz that determines one’s past life based on one’s name.

Here’s mine:

You were a Beloved Body Builder in a past life. Discover your past lives @ Quiz Me

Totally unexpected.

Message Cars

I love the cars on campus festooned with the latest “message” stickers.

Today’s winner: A drawing of a condom (on a rather exhuberant male appendage) stating “Just wear it.”

Er….thanks…alrighty then.