(Boston) Terrorists One Step Closer to World Domination

On Saturday, the Terrorists and I, Steph from the Terrorist message board and Daisy, Mer and my furry niece and nephew, along with my dad and Triple D, participated in Walk 4 PAWS, a fundraiser for a local organization that provides low-cost spays and neuters for animals in the local area.

Too bad they don't spay and neuter fratties and sorostitutes.

Here are some photographic highlights:


T. Min. says, "Get the camera out of my face and kindly fuck off."


Terrorists ready to roll:


T. Max and his new girlfriend, Daisy. Too bad T. Max no longer has his man-bits:


Triple D, fascinated by something shiny, no doubt:


Triple D checking out his shrunekn doppelganger:


Don't mind us. We're just taking over your neighborhood:


Marching towards world domination. Be very afraid:


Special Note: Thanks to my dad's friend Jim for the awesome pictures!

New York, New York!

I know this is a little late, but better late than never, right? The Beef and I had a great trip to NYC July 21-24. I got to visit my best friend from college, C-Nota, who has since moved to Princeton, New Jersey. I forgive her for moving there, even though Princeton is our alma mater's hockey nemesis.

I am already in the process of making plans for this to be moved into my future house. Right next to the Money Room.

Don't mess with me and my Crazy Eye! I'll cut a bitch!

My new phalanx of body guards. They'll cut a bitch, too.

I want to meet Emily and shake her hand. Good job, my friend.

... but can he cook?

South Street Seaport, complete with crazy-electric-violin-playing-guy.

I'll post more pictures later when I have time. Right now I have to get ready to go back to Little A-Town. Classes start on Tuesday and Sunday is the Beef's birthday. Don't tell him, but I have yet to get him a birthday present. I do have something in mind, which is at least a start.

I somehow thought I would be making wads of money this summer, but after paying for bills all summer for an apartment I wasn't even living in, gas for my hellacious commute, $17.10 each week at Starbucks (yes, I calculated it), takeout when I worked until 11 (which was too often), and the trip to NYC, I am not left with nearly as much as I thought I would be. Oh well, I'm sure my good friends at Wells Fargo will be happy to oblige.

When I Do It, I Do It In Style.

So, instead of writing papers, I'm blogging. Because as far as I'm concerned, my Con Law II exam yesterday marked the end of my semester (or so I'm telling myself). What's a couple of papers? I mean, it can't be that hard to write 50 pages in 2 weeks. Right? Right??

One of my nails came off yesterday during my Con Law II exam. Do y'all know how hard it is to type 70 words a minute about equal protection and the 14th Amendment enforcement powers with a missing nail, people? Do you? I will certainly blame my poor performance on the exam on this unfortunate cosmotological failure. I refuse to go out in public until my friends down at Happy Express Super Nail on Prince can squeeze me in for a quick fix.

T. Min. lost a tooth this morning, which distressed me a lot. The vet school couldn't get him in until Monday, by which time I'll be busy law clerkin' it up down in the ATL, which means I have to find a vet down there to look at him. I don't trust the shady fuckers I have taken him to down there before. At least not where T. Min.'s dental health is concerned, and especially when they have to put him out to check him out and clean his teeth (he's feisty like his mom).

In any case, T. Min. told me that he's looking foward to spending the summer in Atlanta. He's already packed his bags and is more than ready to go.

I asked T. Max. if he would like to spend the summer with his dad. He seemed pretty excited about staying with the Beef and doing guy things. Maybe he is trying to tell me something.


So I'm going to keep on not writing by going over to Ann Taylor Loft to buy me some lawyer-ish clothes. After all, I'm gonna be a real law clerk this summer, y'all!

There's a Lesson in This Somewhere.

Further proof that I am a walking calamity:


I'm sure you want to know how this happened. It was all part of a grand scheme by Marley the Dog to hasten my demise. Everytime I go to the Beef's, Marley the Dog greets me at the door. Well, more like barks ferociously and tries to push me out the door by pushing my butt with his nose. He also sniffs me way too much, like I am a tasty morsel and would be just that much tastier with a dash of salt.

Anyway, this particular incident came about when we were walking in the yard. Marley the Dog was on his tie-out, and sneakily made a loop around my ankle. Then he waited for the right moment so he could catch me unawares, and made a break for it. His goal, I am certain, was to drag me around the yard and then eat me. Unfortunately for him, all he managed to do was yank me to the ground and give me a very painful rope burn.

Thanks to Marley the Dog, I will be sporting sandals for the next several days, because the tie-out happened to catch me right at my shoe line.

I have been trying to concoct an alternate (and more interesting) version of the story. Right now, the best one seems to be that a band of carneys strung me up by my ankle and beat me with a sockful of quarters. That's much more exciting, don't you think? Of course there's also the version where I was trying to escape Indiana Jones' romantic pursuits when he snagged me with his whip and dragged me back, kicking and screaming.

The Terrorists tried to send me packing on a guilt trip today by staring forlornly out the window while I was being very industrious and working on my Evidence outline.


A prize to the person who comes up with the best caption for this photo. I mean it!

Mmmmm.... Shiiiiiny.

The stress of finals and my run of bad luck has been getting to me. So, no better way to beat the end-of-semester blues than to engage in a little retail therapy.


There is no way I am going to pay $85 for a set of speaker mounts, so I just have to wait to set it all up until I can get to Lowe's and spend $5 on the stuff to make my own. Here's hoping my grandfather passed on at least an iota of his handiness.

I found this neat little dog cabana at Target, so I picked one up for the Terrorists. T. Max. is skeptical; he thinks it's just an oversized frisbee.


Au contraire, T. Max. Behold: El Cabana de los Terroristos. T. Min. is checking out the new digs, while simultaneously imagining that it's actually set up on the beach somewhere. It's okay to dream, T. Min.


That's about all for now. Funny how depleting my bank account is just soooo theraputic. Now I really have to finish my Evidence outline.