La-Rama

Everyone has experienced it. For some, it's been the cause of more lost sleep than even finals season. You know it, you've lived it, and you're a survivor. No, it's not herpes, it's a law drama.

Affectionately known as "la-rama," law drama permeates every aspect of school. If you thought hundreds of well-educated, adult students could congregate and socialize in a suitable manner, you're not wrong, you're just an idiot. From experience you know that these are not new issues. You became well-versed in all of them at a very early age, namely elementary school. But for some reason, several decades later, these budding lawyers in professional school have managed revert back to the same old stupid shit that we had to put up with on the playground inbetween learning our letters.

Maybe it's the exorbitant amount of booze. Maybe it's the sex. Maybe it's the stress. More likely, it's the deadly combination of all three. Nonetheless, there's just something about law school that manages to bring out the kid in everyone. Maturity wise, at least.

And what is even more disturbing, not to sound sexist, is it the ladies of law school are not just active participants, but are social linebackers in the football game that is law school society. I can honestly say I do not know a single lady in law school that does not hate, vehemently, at least one other girl in our class. For anyone trying to plan a party, check your guest list closely, because the inattentive eye could quickly be on the receiving end of a bitch slap, in the worst way possible.

And that's not to say that these little "disagreements" aren't based entirely on a rational formulations. Because they aren't. Ever. Sometimes it's as little as a potentially snide look that was perpetrated a year ago, but that's enough to create an escalated rhetorical arms race and a Cold War the likes of which you have never seen.

I still remember last year. A moment that will stick in my mind forever. I was out with a couple guys, and we went to a bar on a Tuesday. We wanted a pretty chill night, so we picked a bar that we knew wouldn't be that crowded. We found one, and with us, the bar's revenue that night doubled. After several beers and a few words, we got to talking about girls, as guys sometimes do. We might have said something about law school, or we might not have, regardless, a drunk ass  bastard wanders over to our table, slams his fists down, looks every single one of us deep in the eye, and with the sincerity one only gets during a heroic BAC, said one line that summed up so many stories: "Do not date law school girls." Without another word, that gentleman walked out of the bar, never to be seen again.

So the moral of the story is this: if you go to law school looking for love, be prepared for the most brutal dating scene since the caveman era. And be careful who you talk to at parties, guilt by association may not be legal cause of action, but since when did something like that matter to a lawyer. At least cavemen had the decency to mature a little. Regardless, there is never any hiding from "la-rama."

God Doesn't Want Me to Work for the Government

Okay, so some of you may be privy to this information, but likely most of you aren't. This is the ongoing story of my attempt to get a job with United States Attorney's office. Hilarity ensues.

In late December I met with a friend of mine who's a very successful lawyer in Birmingham. He promised to set me up with a great job with United States Attorney's office. Excited and naïve, I sent my resume in, and got accepted to the job. Little did I know that this would create a hellish string of events not worth any unpaid job.

In early March, I got a notice from the United States Attorney's office that I had a four-year-old delinquent debt of $55. Apparently my cable company in college had decided to defraud me half a c-note. Knowing that they had no reason to charge me for anything, I initiated a credit dispute. Little did I know, but credit disputes take approximately 2 months to complete. The government, however, wanted the issue resolved in 14 days.

So I set about the task of determining how to resolve the issue. Only then did I discover that my former cable company, Adelphia, was now bankrupt and no longer existed. After much research, I discovered that Adelphia had been bought out by Time-Warner cable, so I called them to resolve the issue. After waiting on hold, for two hours, with the cable company that I've never used, that bought out the company I used in 4 years, they told me that they would call me back to resolve the issue. I never heard back. So I called them back. Twice. On the third call I discovered that my region was not the one purchased by Time Warner cable, instead it was purchased by Comcast. Seven days have passed.

So I call Comcast. Not only do they have a record of the $55 charge, but they cannot tell me what in the hell the charge was for. It is at this point that I discover that the reason that Adelphia went bankrupt was because they committed massive fraud. Apparently they decided to charge a bunch of people a bunch of money that they didn't owe. But regardless of any fraud claims, I was still going to have to pay $55 for a service I never gained, for a bill I never received, for a collections dispute I was never informed of, and for a general ass raping that I was about to receive.

Swallowing my pride, I paid the $55.93 charge for the service I never received. The next day, I get an e-mail from the United States Attorney's office human resources manager telling me I need proof of payment. At this point, my 14 days have expired. However, my bill is supposed to be in the mail, providing proof that I've paid this charge. I was wrong.

After a week of waiting, and approximately 10 e-mails from the United States Attorney's office, my proof of payment has yet to arrive. So I call Comcast and tell them to either e-mail it or fax it to me. They don't. I call again. They don't. I call yet again. They don't. Four requests for a fax or an e-mail completely denied. And a supervisor is apparently too busy to talk to me. Apparently they have customer service issues a lot, and their super is backed up.

The lady of the United States Attorney's office human resources division is just as frustrated at me as I am that Comcast, so she tells me just send me a copy of my credit card statement, and that'll do the job. Finally! This is something I can handle, this is something that I can take care of. So I log onto the website of my credit card company, only to discover that there is no history that I've ever used my credit card, ever. Even though my four digit credit card debt has been wiped clean, I am pissed off because I can't provide the proof that I've paid a measly $55 to a company I stop dealing with a half decade ago.

So I call the credit card company. After waiting on hold, I discover that my credit card has been reported lost or stolen. Even though it's sitting in front of me. Apparently, the credit card company had determined that my credit card had been "compromised." Because of this, it was necessary to delete all of my records, even making it so that the customer service representative could not determine what my expenditures have been for the past week.

Fuck me.

So here I am, with a potentially nice, utterly unpaid job at the United States Attorney's office, but I'm being held back by $55 charge, that as of two months ago I had no idea existed. Fuck me...

GChat Etiquette

If you're in law school, you know gchat. Either you are addicted to it, or you are absolutely terrified that you will be. I can understand, it's just so simple to browse through your friends, check their statuses, "Oh, that's such a cute youtube video of a baby laughing," and whatnot. Even better are those links that don't need sound. What better way to get you through another exciting day of federal tax than this? But after a little time with the glory that is gchat, you may be breaking out your Emily Post wondering: what is proper g-etiquette? 

Short answer: There is none.

Gchat is a no-holds-barred, free-for-all, cliche-ridden schmorgesborg of beat-down. Hate Bush? Link to this. Hate Obama? Post this. Hate someone in your class? Go ahead, set your status to kill, and defame them for your enjoyment of your entire buddy list. Cooking dinner? Let everyone know. Packing for a trip? I bet everyone will be jealous. Taking a dump? Sure, why not? The g-status was twitter before twitter was cool. (Oh, and in case you were wondering: no, twitter is not, and never will be cool. Never in my life could I care enough about yours to receive constant updates about what you are doing. I don't care, he doesn't care, she doesn't care, NO ONE CARES. Put on some shoes and go outside, get you some sun and a hobby.)

"But Godfather," you may ask, "there's this really cute girl in bus org, and I've been g-flirting with her for a while. I think I'm going to g-ask-her-out. Is that allowed?" My answer: of course it's allowed. Like I said, everything is fair game. However, I reserve the right to tell everyone what you did in my status.

The History of "Pulling a Cumberland"

The History
"Pulling a Cumberland" is a euphemism for doing something without thinking. It can be dumb, disastrous, or just plain embarrassing. In the rare but gloriously hilarious situation, it is all three.

A "Cumberland" is a quick was of saying someone has "pulled a Cumberland." Often, it involves law students, lawyers, or law schools. Don't be fooled, though, anyone can "Pull a Cumberland." We just hope we're around to write about it.

Here's a quick example:
Third-year law students complaining about the lack of jobs, blaming another 'lesser' school for the lack thereof, and dancing like drunken fools. If they've had trouble finding jobs in the past, I'm sure this performance will get the hiring partner in their corner.

The Name
The inspiration for the name: pleas for child health care and a home for puppies on the list-serve of an anonymous law school in the Deep South quickly spirals into a racism-riddled debate on par with with a preschool playground slap fight over the see-saw. Take time to read it, all of it, if you were somehow left off of the email chain that enveloped the South following this debacle.

What to Expect
A small, inconspicuous law school in the Deep South houses some of the most ridiculous behavior known to man. This site is dedicated to exploiting "Cumberlands," both in and out of law school, and sharing them with the world in hopes that you will be entertained. If you need a higher purpose (and obviously aren't in the legal field), this site should serve as a warning to all to think before acting.

What will you read on this blog? Examples of "Pulling a Cumberland," from law school/junior high behavior to political blunders, and everything in-between.

Coming soon: "Obama's Cumberland of the Week," "Summer Clerking... had me a blast," "La-rama Unmasked," "We Salute You Mr/Mrs Cumberland," "The Legal Profession and the Pledge Sytem," and "Professors Gone Wild."

Requests and suggestions are always welcome.

Busted

In law school, the laptop is as essential as the overwhelming sense of superiority everyone feels. While it is a necessity for note-taking (and by note taking, I mean surfing until you find the end of the internet), certain websites have a tendency to "blow your cover" in class. Addictinggames.com, while amazing in its ability to fight off impending narcolepsy, possesses a few games that are, should we say, CPU greedy. This site, among others, are infamous for causing computer fan speeds to increase faster than your blood pressure at finals time.

Everyone knows "that guy." The guy that hasn't opened Word all semester. The guy that shows up only to sign the roll so that the ABA doesn't call him into C&F, or any other alphabet-soup oversight body. About half-way through class, you hear the fan. It picks up, and despite any sense of shame "that guy" should feel, he continues playing his rocking-truck game online.

But remember this: There is no need to give "that guy" any evil looks or gdeath-threats (i.e. textual assault transmitted through gchat). There is no need for "that guy" to be harassed or shamed in the public forum. Why? Because "that guy" is a hero. So today, we solute you, astronaut-of-the-torts-class. Without the loud indication of your computer running through it's launch procedures, we might actually feel bad about surfing through The Onion archives while we spend hundreds of dollars an hour for our legal "education."