Back to life.

Oh, spring break, you passed me by so quickly.

Today I had my first actual (slightly) embarrassing moment in law school. I made it nearly three years without any major blunders. But today, for some inexplicable reason, I was unable to pronounce both the words "revocable" and "irrevocable" while trying to articulate my question in front of the professor and the class. There was really no way to get around this, as my entire question focused on a difference between revocable and irrevocable trusts. I finally broke down and said "a trust that is not able to be revoked." Stupid. Luckily, I am just about a month shy of graduation (yippee!), and I don't really care that my entire class laughed at my fumbling for words. I am a tough cookie, as my grandpa says. Luckily, Friend from the Valley was there to continue making fun of me during our next class together. (I should add that he has been known to have trouble pronouncing words himself, but I would never make fun of him because I am a thoughtful and compassionate individual.) Good thing I have high self-esteem.

I would like to take this moment to share that I have become enamored by a certain dark haired, light eyed singing sensation. If you watch American Idol, then you no doubt know the dazzling star of whom I am speaking. If you do not, then you can disregard the rest of this paragraph and move on to the subsequent one (like a create your own adventure story - whee!). He wears black nail polish and tight jeans, has a bigger vocal range than pretty much any person ever, and does a pelvic thrust rivaling Elvis and Conrad Birdie. If only he were into ladies, we could meet, have a torrid romance, and make beautiful, talented, blue eyed babies. Though, talent aside, I think I'd rather make babies with the guy who performed last in tonight's show. I don't remember his name, but he has a Jack Johnson type of musical appeal and a killer smile. Swoon. Additionally, I would be remiss not to mention that I think the girl with the crazy red hair is an absolute rock star, and I hope she makes it to the finals. (She's definitely not my girl type, though, so no baby-making there. Plus, she's only 16. I draw the line at 21. If I can't have a legal drink with you, no thanks.) Black nail polish vs. red hair dye could be a finals showdown worth watching. Ok, enough about American Idol. Who cares? I don't even own a television.

Tomorrow I register for the Bar exam. And so begins the beginning of the end. Come summer, I will have no life other than studying and working out. Actually, that doesn't sound like a huge departure from my life over the past three years. It's like I always say: Who cares if no one outside of the Barbri course is going to see me, as long as I can run circles around all of those bookworms, I will feel super. Yes, that is what I always say. Ask anyone.