…And One to Go

Dear MBE,

We are officially broken up.

I’m sick of your mind games and the way you treat me. I work and work and work my fingers to the bone and still it’s never good enough for you.

Well, I don’t need you in my life anymore. So here is your Statute of Frauds back. I put all your Recording Statutes in a box (to the left, to the left). I was going to keep the First Amendment you gave me that day at Starbucks, but it brings up too many bad memories.

Please don’t ever talk to me again.

Love,
Cella



Actually, today was not the worst thing ever. It was not so awesome that I even want to entertain the idea of doing it again, but I sit here with at least a fond hope that I am still passing the bar.

I finished both the morning and the afternoon sessions in about an hour each. I went over my answers and counted all the As, Bs, Cs and Ds because I couldn’t get that thing out of my head that the BarBri lady said about them all showing up equally (i.e., each answer is correct 25 times out of 100). I’m not saying this as advice because it will probably screw with your head much more than it will ever help. Because I was way short on 1 letter, but of course I didn’t know which answers were wrong. So you start thinking “Well, if I change my answer to this question- because I might be totally wrong seeing as I know jack squat about veto power, if that’s even what the question is asking me- then I’m closer to 25 Bs but now I’m short a D. And I could change the answer to that question, but that will ruin my balance of As.” And on and on and on.

So I just turned it in and went to lunch, which was at the fine dining establishment known as My Car. Or, My Sister’s Car Since I’m Borrowing It. So I ate from my cooler of apples and peanut butter and hummus and pita and looked at my notes from practice questions until I realized that really, I know what I’m gonna know and I’m not learning anything new. Partly cuz I can’t focus, partly because I don’t care so much anymore, who knows.

Back from lunch, they didn’t open the doors at 12:45 as they had promised so we’re all stuffed into the un-air-conditioned hallway in the heat. And I am sorry, Texas Tech T-Shirt Guy, but Man Sandals (“Mandals”) + Heat = Nasty Sweaty Boy Foot Stink. Also, you wore jorts. Both days. …I’m just saying.

And I’m also just saying that some girl wore a “I Own Blackacre” shirt. To the Bar Exam. I assume on purpose. I also assume that everyone who wore a t-shirt with their law school emblazoned upon it also did that on purpose. Especially those from schools not within the vicinity because my guess is that you are staying in a hotel like I am, and that you packed, like I did, three shirts. But you appear to have different criteria for shirt selection that I. Or, alternatively, you own three shirts.

And one girl wore her Shitty Law School Law Review shirt. And then I died of barfness.