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In a person’s first year of law school, they’re going to have to take Constitutional Law. If you’ve ever watched Fox News, you know that the US Constitution is a sacred document penned by our godlike founding fathers while they were being fondled by the ghost of Jesus Christ, bathed in the tears of Mother Mary, and it probably says something about Christmas and how it’s the most sacred and amazing of all Holidays because FUCK THE WAR ON CHRISTMAS YOU GODDAMNED HEATHENS.

Anyway, a lot of people will tell an aspiring law student that, “Constitutional law is one of the most interesting classes. You debate the biggest most controversial issues of all time, ever, in the history of debating.” These people clearly did not take Con law at my school, or at any school I’ve ever heard of. My professor was Cuthbert Binns in the flesh. Ghostly flesh because obviously Binns is a ghost, even though he doesn’t realize it, and if you don’t understand the Harry Potter reference you should probably leave my blog now and never return. He was about 8 billion years old, give or take a few million, he spoke in halted, monotone phrases which led to many prolonged and awkward silences where he’d stare out at the class and no one was sure if he’d asked a question or just forgot that he was alive. His hair grew in random tufts all over his head, and down his neck, and he wore one of the same three mustard yellow, Bill Cosby-esque sweaters every class.

Also, Professor Binns loved to say the word “pussy.” He’d use it in an example for every case, like, “say I have a pussy . . . cat, and that pussy . . .” and I’m not sure you can appreciate how disturbing it is to hear your ancient friendly law school ghost-professor say the word pussy repeatedly, unless I’ve just ruined your image of Cuthbert Binns in Harry Potter forever, in which case maybe you do. I’m sorry.

Some people pay a lot of attention in class, and raise their hand, and learn things. This is what me and my close friend Nicole did: (via gchat)

Nicole: I need to be productive tonight. I think I’m going to make cookies and potentially cook something, and beyond that I have some vague goal of maybe cleaning… something… somewhere. My entire living room looks like a storage closet

Me: Oh that’s fine, my bedroom floor looks like a changing room at Kohls.

Nicole: Mine too! I think other people would be like “oh hay these clothes shouldn’t be on the floor,” and I’m like “oh cool a carpet.”

Me: well at least your feet are warm. That’s important. Binns needs to stop saying pussycat. Or anything with the word pussy in it.

Nicole: HUGE SADFACE. My Lindt truffle rolled off the table and onto the ground in the row in front of mine. HOW WILL I GET THROUGH THE NEXT TWENTY MINUTES!

Me: OMG, that is a travesty!

Nicole: 😦 It’s okay. I can get through this. Jesus what the fuck is he talking about?

Me: W/e as long as he’s not saying pussy, I don’t really care.

[After 5 minutes of gchat silence]

Me: Did you retrieve your truffle? I may pee in my pants if I don’t get up and go to the bathroom, but I’m too awkward to cause a disturbance. What do I do?!

Nicole: I posted a status about it on Facebook. I’ve received 6 optimistic replies. Cindy Tomes has located the truffle, and is now trying to covertly pick it up and pass it backwards. Others are standing-by for their hand-off moment.

Me: I’ll pray for it’s safe arrival. I’m making my escape to the bathroom.

Me: [upon returning] I think I just seriously avoided an accident. You know when you’re just peeing and you’re like holy crap I wish I’d timed myself because it’s been at least 25 seconds. One of those. OMG, he called on Mike. He’s only two rows away. TWO ROWS. Avoid eye contact.

Nicole: I’m planning on a blank look + silence.

Me: Good plan. I’m stalking the picture’s of Scott’s ex at the party. It’s satisfying my creeper instincts AND helping me to avoid eye contact with Binns. That’s efficiency bitch. You coming to that thing on Friday?  Oh wait, when are you flying out again?

Nicole: Monday, but I’m going home on Friday.

Me: No no, I totally knew that. Idk why I got confused.

Nicole: It’s fucked up, how you don’t listen.

Me: I don’t because you bore me. You’re not really my friend. You’re just someone to gchat until I graduate. You’re slightly more bearable than everyone else. Take that as a compliment.

Nicole: I know. It’s because I’m a brown person in law school.

Me: It’s true. I’m a racist. Against white people. My own skin disgusts me.

[Nicole makes that a gchat status]

Me: Why did you do that four times?

Nicole: I was fixing your typo and added a period. I DID IT FOR YOU BITCH! I don’t want people to be ashamed of you the way I have to be sometimes. Christ it is so hard.

Me: I’m realizing from these pics that the ex and the best friend are not who I thought they were. I had them mixed up, which I think explains a lot of our drunken communication confusion.

Nicole: Are you drunk right now?

Me: We’re in class.

Nicole: Whatever, I wouldn’t put it past you whore.

And that’s why Nicole is one of the greatest people I know. Law School is worth it if only because I’ve met some of the most awesome people in existence. Likely topic for next blog: “The Characters: 5 types of people you find in law school sweepingly generalized by class rank.”

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