Despantalontada

I’m not a first year law student. Not any more. Not now that I’ve finished exams. Which is to say, I may now use the phrase, “Well, when I was a first year law student . . .” and then add whatever mindless verbal flibberdy jibbert I wish to belittle right after that. Allow me to demonstrate:
“Why, I remember back when I was a first year law student, people used to give a flying load of dingo’s kidneys what happened on ‘The O.C.’ but now that California has finally been smote (smoten? Smited? Smitten? Geschmotten? Esmotado? I missed that day in seminary) by the angry God of James Dobson, and Arizona does in fact have ocean front property, I greatly prefer to watch ‘The Scotsdale.’”
Right. So, exams are done, I’m in Mobile, and all is well with the world. My lovely bride bought me a celebratory bottle of 18 year old Scotch with which I am now appropriately acquainted. If Amanda’s blog’s revolve around food and traipsing about pantsless, mine appear to involve booze. It appears that I may be a drinker with a writing problem. C’est la vie. There are worse lots in life. One could be reduced to making a living as an Evidence instructor. God save us all!