Monday, June 28, 2010

And a Bar Exam Re-Post

I took a moment to look at my Sitemeter, and sure as shit, I was reminded that the bar exam is approaching. Here you go...please...listen to me.

Dear All Bar Exam Takers Everywhere,

Calm the FUCK DOWN.

Did you hear me? I'll say it again.

Calm the FUCK DOWN.

And maybe one final time... CALM THE FUCK DOWN.

Ok? Here's how I know a decent number of you are freaking out. In case you don't know, Sitemeter is this little tool that tells me who comes to my blog, and how they find my blog. Here are some of the searches that have led people to me:

"Bar Exam" & "Freaking out"
"Bar Exam Tips"
"I'm going to fail the bar exam"
"Bar Exam" & "want to die"
"Bar Exam" & "I'm a loser"
"Bar Exam" & "want to set myself on fire"
"Advice to those who failed the bar exam"
"Bar exam" & "can't stop crying"

Ok. Seriously. You need to chill out. I know that's totally unfair of me to say, because when I was studying for the bar, I asked my friend to hit me with his car, not hard enough to kill me, but just hard enough that I wouldn't have to take the bar exam. And I actually thought this was a reasonable request. So I get it. But he told me to calm the fuck down, and I did. And it helped.

I am in no position to offer actual tips on how to pass the bar, because quite frankly, I have no idea how I did it.

Here are just a few things I want to remind you of, even though I know you probably already know this.

Just because someone has all their barbri books tabbed and color coded, organized perfectly, with correlating colored flash cards, does not mean they are in a better position to pass the bar. This is not a method of learning. It's a method of feeling in control. It may not be your way. That's fine.

Most of you will pass.

Everyone feels the exact same way as you do.

Stop feeling guilty every time you catch yourself not studying. You need to take a break.


Right now, walk away from the computer. Take a breath. Take a walk. Have a drink. Have a smoke. Go have sex. Do something ELSE. The fact that you are googling the things you are googling to bring you to my blog is clearly a sign that you need to calm the FUCK DOWN, and take a break.

Just do it.


He's Going to Live in My Basement When He's 30, Isn't He?

Yep. Still pregnant. My baby is officially a mope. Please note, I have graduated from watermelon to pumpkin.

And I am so fucking bored. And the phone starts ringing at about 8:30 every morning with people asking if there's any news. WELL, THERE'S NOT.

On my Facebook page, all these people have listed their own little tips for having the little guy show up. They include:

Going to see a bad movie
listening to loud music
Kentucky Fried Chicken
Black Cohosh Tea (whatever the fuck that is)
Taking a bath
Drinking some wine
Being patient
Spicy Foods
Eggplant Parmesan

If the baby doesn't come today, tomorrow, I shall do them ALL. I'll let you know how it goes.

Oh, and Scott Rose?? I got my iphone after I dropped my Blackberry in the bathtub while texting. Are you turned on???

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Wednesday, June 02, 2010

It Was Only A Matter of Time... Pregnancy Advice

Although I promised myself I would not be the person to offer unwanted advice to pregnant people, if you're Googling my blog and got to this page, you were likely Googling "pregnancy advice", anyway. And if you were just visiting my blog, because that's what you sometimes do, this won't affect your life anyway. Either way, YOU came to ME so it's hardly like the random woman in the elevator who told me about shitting myself while in labor, or the male attorney extolling the virtues of perineal massage*.

I can't offer a lot. Because I don't know a lot, but I figured I'd write down a couple of things that I found helpful. I'll do this every once in a while as I remember them. So here are my first two tidbits:

1. Don't look at the scale when you get weighed at the doctor's office. Why? It's just going to make you feel bad, even though logically you know you shouldn't be bothered. If you're a young American woman, any time the scale goes up for ANY reason, it's going to fuck with your head. So why do that to yourself? Your doctor WILL tell you if your weight is a problem. So let it go.

2. Stop eating asparagus around week 36. You have to give WAY too many urine samples. It's just rude.

*It's the taint, ok? I don't want to discuss this any further ever again.

Tuesday, June 01, 2010

Happy June!

Holy Shit.

This is the month I become a parent. I wish I had more to report, but really that's all that's been going on.

I've had two baby showers. A third is scheduled for this weekend. Quite frankly, one would have been enough. But whatever. There was our actual friends and family shower, my work shower, and my fiance's (yes I said fiance) work shower.

We now have a crap load of baby stuff. And it really is all pretty cute.

Oddly, I'm not really that scared. I think I'm going to pretty good at this. And I know the fiance will be awesome.

I am scared of a few things regarding labor and delivery, though. Oh, and by the way I'm not scared of grossing anyone out, so if you're easily grossed out, feel free to stop reading right here.

It seems like an obvious thing, but whether or not you're actually in labor is not always that clear cut. It's not like in the movies, where you hear a big splash, look down to see a bucket worth of water on the ground, and that's your clue to to get your ass to the hospital. But then, how DO you know? Well, there a couple of ways. One, you start having contractions, I guess. But only the CORRECT kind of contractions. How do you know if they're the correct kind of contractions? I, of course, asked that question. My doctor looked at me like I'm the dumbest bitch with a uterus and said, "Oh, you'll know." Well. THANK you and fuck you. They clearly don't know what a dumbass I am. Maybe I won't know.

This is what brought me to Google, which my doctor had previously banned me from using for all pregnancy related topics. Well, fuck her, if she can't tell me how I'm gonna know if I'm going into labor, I need someone to do it. And google taught me the two most disgusting phrases in the English language. Are you ready?


1. Mucus plug
2. Bloody show

I have nothing more to say.