Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Posted by CDH at 6:55 PM
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Posted by CDH at 6:46 PM
Monday, April 19, 2010
You know the feeling you get when you wake up and realize that today you have to make a presentation in front of 15 executives? Or 5 minutes before you walk in to a job interview? Well, take that feeling, multiply in by 10,000, and that is me today.
You see, tonight at 6:00, I embark on the final leg of my journey through the first year of law school, and what better way to start things off than with a Contracts final that contributes to no less than 80% of my grade. And I thought the midterm was a monster...pshhh. I would give anything to take that midterm again.
As my friend MC and I were discussing various contract theories such as the doctrine of promissory estoppel, the necessity for the statute of frauds, and a party's options following anticipatory repudiation (don't I sound smart?), we both realized that we have come a LONG way since that 10th day in August when we sat in the auditorium as mere peons before our professors...when we didn't even know what a "tort" was...when the concept of unjust enrichment seemed too difficult to ever grasp...when the road toward second year was set before us - winding, rough, and...okay, you get the point.
Well, it was on this fateful day that MC and I also assumed the role of fashionistas of the 1L class. That's right, ladies (and gentlemen?) we have the highly esteemed (self-appointed) honor of being the law school fashion police, and believe me...it is NOT an easy job. To make my case, I offer up evidence of the fashion felonies that we witness on a daily basis.
A "quiet" day for the fashion police consists of the perpetration of various misdemeanors such as wearing white linen pants after Labor Day (we issued multiple citations for this one), toting zebra print bags while donning leopard print tops (I detest mixing and matching animal prints), etc.
However, on those raucous days when the 1L's become a little too expressive, MC and I have a full docket. We witness lace mixed with neon, floral prints that look like your grandma's curtains reincarnated, Japanese cartoon logos, and the list goes on. Not to mention the trucker hats and man purses that infest the classrooms like the sketchballs fill the courthouse on order of protection day. Honestly, I wouldn't put anything past these fashion felons.
Don't you worry though...out of the kindness of our hearts, MC and I offer free fashion advice to those multiple offenders who are plagued by colorblind-ness, mis-match disorder, and a sheer lack of taste. We even bestow good graces upon those who commit intentional crimes of fashion with the requisite mental culpability.
Please do not mistake our kidness as a lack of care. While we prefer to stay away from retribution, we will always offer what I like to think of as "Fashion Rehab" where we introduce these multiple offenders to foreign concepts such as "simple is best," "go easy on the plaid," "polka dots in moderation", and many others.
Bottom line: with such a great injustice at stake in the fashion world, we are just doing our job the best we know how. Who else is going to make sure that higher education and fashion are not mutually exclusive?
Posted by CDH at 7:41 AM
Friday, April 16, 2010
While perusing the internet over lunch yesterday, I came across a term that was foreign to me...the "bumpit". After questioning a wide variety of people - male and female, fashionable and unfashionable, gossipers and wallflowers - I soon realized I was in the minority on this "trend", if you can even call it such.
Even my boyfriend, who, bless his heart, has a fondness for cargo shorts and often wears long-sleeved white t-shirts under polos (that was very hard for me to type...we are working on his sense of style) was familiar with the term. Shocking. To supplement my understanding, he offered the example of Snookie on the Jersey Shore. I immediately lost interest in the conversation.
You see, I am not an advocate of this Jersey Shore business. In all fairness, I have actually never watched a full episode and hope to goodness that my life does not become so monotonous that I am forced to succumb to frivolous television. On a sidenote, I do not lump "The Bachelor" into the frivolous category. That is TV at it's finest and I LOVE IT SO MUCH.
Back to Jersey Shore...call me cooky, but I think that 30 minutes (I guess that's how long the show lasts - surely it's not an hour?) featuring raging meatheads, guidos, guidettes, fake bakes and general trashy nonsense is absolute wasted space. Furthermore, if I wanted to watch this Snookie character and her "bumpit", I could get in my car and drive to second avenue, where I would encounter no less than 200 highly intoxicated, overly tan, loud, obnoxious girls sauntering around in their pleather/sequined/mesh concoctions that they have stuffed their bodies into - muffin top and all. No. Thank. You.
As far as bumpits are concerned, I have decided that I am indifferent. Admittedly, I do like big hair. After all, I am a southern girl; it is therefore inherent from birth that I will exhaust an entire can of hairspray in one night if that's what it takes to prolong the volume. However, since I am not a Snookie supporter, I have an automatic aversion to any resemblance thereof. What are your thoughts on this anomaly that is "the bumpit"?
Posted by CDH at 7:41 AM
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
This officially stands for Tebow love and care. Let me explain. So, if any of you read one of my recent posts, you may remember me mentioning that I broke my ankle about two months ago. I wish I could tell you that I broke it during a ski trip or doing something at least half-way daring, but no...I was working out. Actually, I could argue that that in itself is daring, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway, I was working out at my gym in a small community south of Nashville, and this gym is no YMCA. It's a training complex that Peyton Manning started several years ago to help build talent among future star athletes. If you're wondering how the heck I would fit into that category, stop. I don't. I just wanted to get my butt in shape when I moved back from college a couple of years ago, so I signed up for the boot camp class at this gym. Honestly, I swear by their classes, as I can go for one hour and burn almost 900 calories. NO. JOKE. If you are like me and love you some good southern food, then you find this method of burning calories to be far superior than dieting. I can say with confidence that I was in the best shape of my life until about two months ago when I broke my ankle. I won't tell you how I did it because you will think that I am the most uncoordinated person on the planet. It was just one of those days. I will tell you, however, that I fell on my a** in front of approximately ten NFL hopefuls that happened to be training for the Combine at my gym that morning .
Posted by CDH at 6:55 PM
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
As much as I despise Heidi Montaug and all of her fakeness, the image of me in this style of bathingsuit is enough to send anyone straight to the operating table for implants. Okay, obviously I am exaggerating a tad, but please...come out with some cute "triangle" tops that don't feature skulls and crossbones or scream "I heart Avril Lavigne and all things punk." Please.
Posted by CDH at 11:22 AM
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Posted by CDH at 8:23 PM