Outline

Since I'm reading/writing so many outlines lately, I might as well blog in outline form. Here's the week in review. We've been studying. A lot. Because the fear has been restored.

- We watched "The Practice" while eating lunch. A guy killed a nun, chopped her up, stuffed her in his closet, and that evidence was held inadmissible due to the lack of a valid search warrant and the absence of circumstances excepting the warrant requirement. And as we watched the prosecutor give a stirring closing argument about the injustice of the defendant getting off on a technicality, we thought, yep, that's right, inadmissible! As our robot hearts beat on in our hollow tin chests.

- Mike and I had simultaneous meltdowns independently of each other about the same set of multiple choice questions. Except while I tend to weep into my book, he throws his down the stairs. Except that's kind of impossible because robot hearts don't weep. I just realized how sad that is that the robot has no emotion except for despair. Haha.

- Genelle called the Bill of Rights "the first ten commandments."

- Have you ever had that dream where you're almost drowning and you make it to the surface just a second too late and you wake up gasping for air? I had that the other day (literally, day, because I fell asleep on my books in the afternoon) for the first time in a long time. Only I wasn't underwater, I was in BarBri lecture. And I was drowning. In BarBri. Seriously.

- I read yesterday that Paris Hilton is in jail and is using the time to think and reflect upon life. I literally thought to myself, "Geez, I wish I had time to sit here and reflect. That must be nice." Wait. Did I just consider the possibility that I'd rather go to jail than study? And worse yet, did I just wish I was Paris Hilton??

- Our Property prof is funny. I learned the Sinead O'Connor rule of property yesterday: a living person has no heirs. Not funny? What about the the *NSYNC rule - an indefeasibly vested remainder has No Strings Attached? Eh? She sings and tells stories about Monica, Ross, Phoebe, Rachel, and Chandler in joint tenancy too. Still no? Ok, fine. Whatever. I get my kicks where I can. Apparently the robot also has no sense of humor.