Preparations

At the moment, I am dilligently preparing for NYE in the Big Apple. As a matter of fact, this will be my first such experience in this fair city. And the city is treating me quite well: the weather is fine (i.e., above 40 degrees), my hand is feeling better (don't ask), and there are a few million people patiently waiting to party it up tonight in celebration of 2004's end and 2005's beginning. You can almost feel the debauchery in the air - the calm before the storm, or so it would seem.

Needless to say, tonight should be fun, if not action-packed.

Happy New Year's to everyone out there, wherever you may be celebrating tonight!

Do real men wear pink?

Regardless of how wearing the now-trendy color would affect my classification as a male, I am not eager to join the pink-adorned ranks of NYC, thank you very much. And that is precisely why I have to return the latest Christmas present I received.

To be less vague, the present to which I am referring is a Kangol beanie, which I requested just a few days before coming home. Originally, when I stumbled upon this winter garment on the 'net, I immediately warmed (pun intended) to the brown/tan two-tone variety. But since I couldn't seem to locate anything more than an image of that color scheme on the Kangol website and elsewhere in cyberspace, I requested the one in dark grey/light grey.

Let's just say "dark grey" is an egregious misrepresentation or, at the very least, a wee bit of an understatement - the damn thing is light grey and PINK. Well, okay, to be completely honest, it's more lilac than pink. (For those who, like me, only know the names of about 10 colors, lilac is a soft, light purple.) Keep in mind, however, it's not as if this correction mitigates the harm done. In fact, lilac represents even more of a serious affront to my fashion sense (if you'd be so kind to allow me one).

So, back to the store it goes, as all pink-hued articles of clothing must when they make their way to my closet. For now and the foreseeable future, I am to remain pink-free (or lilac-free, whatever).

Here's proof. 

Some strange alien material is falling from sky

And I'm not exactly sure what it is.

Just after finishing up an all-you-can-eat sushi meal - slash - Torts review session, Brian, Kevin and I emerge from the restaurant only to notice that there is something raining down from the heavens. Kevin and Brian assure me it is "snow" and I assure them it is "cold". Wow, this marks the first time I have ever lived in a place where it snows. Actually, I think it snowed once or twice in Fairfield during the 15 or so years I was a resident but, for purposes of this post, that doesn't count.

The 31st is going to be one chilly NYE.

So, here I am sitting at the computer, looking out my window...

trying to decide how many layers I'll need to be warm today. It looks nice - sunny, very few clouds in the sky, the various wires strewn about the rooftops are not flapping too much, which indicates that it's not all that windy (wind is the real killer when it's sub-40). I mean, if I were in California I would estimate the temperature to be somewhere around the mid-60s based upon my visual evaluation. But thanks to first-hand experience thus far in New York - and Yahoo! weather - I know better. Evidently, someone who has already been outside today insists that it feels like 38 degrees, which is to say it will feel uncomfortably cold to me. Dammit.

So, with the knowledge that it is almost cold enough to turn me into a giant ice cube, I now have to ask myself the following questions: Which jacket should I wear? How many undershirts? Warm socks or standard white ones? Gloves or bare-fisted? Should I finally break down and buy a fucking scarf (not a big fan of suffocation, myself)? And where the hell is that beanie that I brought from home? All this at a time when the only thing on my mind should be the legal principles of negligence and strict liability. If my grades turn out to be repulsive, I will blame the weather and it's constant attempts to beat me into submission.

Test 2: Finito

Oh man, not only did I just take one of the hardest tests I've ever encountered, but it is cold as a blizzard out here. Feels like -45oC to my California-spoiled self.

One down and two to go...

Only nine more days of this. The oasis is within view, but agonizingly out of reach.

Anyone wondering what I am up to at the moment and why I am not diligently writing updates for this website will be able to see from this photo that I am currently knee-deep in multi-colored notes in the pursuit of good grades.  

The Bay Area's newest music craze: Hyphy

One positive thing about attending a "Homie Thanksgiving" is that it is the perfect opportunity to catch up on all of the goings-on in the Bay Area music scene. As expected, the attendees knew very little about the existence of any up-and-coming trip-hop DJs and even less about any underground post-rock groups in the area, so I had to settle for a report on the current state of Bay Area rap. To be frank and, simultaneously, to slightly embarrass myself, 10 years ago, this was my musical genre of choice (I've come a long way), so I did possess a slight curiousity as to what I had missed over the past year.

What I learned from the briefing was that the biggest phenomenon in Bay Area rap today is hyphy (pronounced hi-fee, not hi-fi). Being the ignorant, RJD2-listening person that I am, I had to ask: "What in the hell is hyphy?" According to my learned instructor, the word refers to a eponymous song by a group called Federation, which features E-40 and an out-of-this-world Rick Rock beat that is not so much music as a collection of drum beats, odd sound effects, and some guy mumbling incoherently. Just yesterday, I finally downloaded the song and found it to be crass and unpolished as Bay Area rap usually is but catchy in a thump-in-the-trunk kind of way.

If you didn't know (and who would?), hyphy is slang for hyperactive, a phase most people outgrow before the time they reach puberty. Apparently, the Bay Area music scene has, as a collective, not given up on being "hyphy" and, instead, embraced the "hyphy lifestyle". In true "I've Got 5 on it" style, there is even a remix floating around that features various Bay Area artists, an obvious attempt to cement Hyphy as a Bay anthem. It seems to be working, as even MTV.com has picked up on the buzz and penned a story on the subject (http://www.mtv.com/bands/h/hypy/news_feature_110804/).

For all of us from wonderous Fairfield, the best part of the hyphy hype is that at least one of the members of the Federation is from Fairfield, a fact which is proclaimed loud and clear on a t-shirt that appears in the song's video. Why I am proud that these guys come from home town is a mystery that will never be explained. And, truth be told, I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

Side note:
From my extensive research after the fact, I have discovered that there is a six-part test to determine if you are hyphy. Feel free to take it at your leisure. Rigorous scientific testing shows that if you answer "yes" or "perhaps" to 4 out of the 6, you are considered ignorant, self-centered, wasteful, and just plain dumb enough to live and prosper in Northern California.

Have you ever:

1) "made them nosey neighbors want to call the cops"
2) "gotten crooked up and down the block"
3) (I can't really decipher this from the song but I think it has something to do with owning a "scraper" or "drop-top", both of which are cars, I presume.)
4) "getting pulled over and won't stop"
5) "danced on the hood of your partna's Caddy"
6) "made a baby's momma slap a baby's daddy"

Are you hyphy?

Home, Sweet Home

Ah, Thanksgiving.

If you couldn't guess from the title of the post, I managed to make my way home for the holiday thanks to some financial generosity from my parents. Flew out of New York on Tuesday night via JetBlue and arrived in Sacramento at around 10:30 PM. By the time I made it home, everyone was asleep, so I wolfed down some ham and cheese on a baguette, spent some quality time with my dog, and passed out.

The next morning, thanks to the time change, I woke up bright and early, despite being exhausted from class and traveling the day before. Got to meet my younger bro's girlfriend, whom he met - suprise, suprise - at his work ... a biotech company. And, to make matters even more unoriginal, he is spending all of his time with her, alternating nights at her place and his. I swear, he is utterly incapable of learning from my mistakes. Must be genetic or something.

At some point, Justin left to drop her off in Sacramento, and I tried to do some work. Problem was, I couldn't concentrate, so I ended up just hanging out with my folks, watching Elf and eating a delicious dinner in the process.

Later that night, Chris and Derek came through to hang out for a bit. We watched some TV, drank a few brews, and reminisced about the good ol' days. Great to see them, as always, but it's kind of pathetic that, in our old age, we now opt to stay in to watch Wild Boyz rather than go out and be wild boys. Oh well, socializing in Fairfield could easily end in a drive-by, so maybe staying in the relative safety of home was a good call.

Thanksgiving day offered no surprises. Went to Scottie's that night, which also offered no surprises, as the whole FF gang was there. Actually there was one surprise: instead of playing beer pong or pool, everyone was playing chess. Bay Area rap still supplied the ambiance, but the mood was decidedly less gangster, which I appreciated.

Friday: ate a Dave's burger, which wasn't as good as I remembered, but still better than the Corner Bistro. Perhaps the decline is due to the proprietor's recent legal problems. Seems that ol' Dave wanted to give something back on November 2nd, so he promised a free burger to anyone who voted. Apparently, the line was out the door, down the street, a testament to the value-sensitive people of Fairfield. The FBI, however, caught wind of his devious plot, and came down hard on Dave, who must have been unaware that rewarding people for voting is unlawful. During my admittedly short visit, I didn't notice him making the burgers, so it is quite possible that he is in the slammer once again (tax evasion last time, fyi).

Another Dave - a friend from high school - was at Dave's, however. He had been deployed in Iraq for about five months, starting 3 and a half weeks after the initial push. We spoke at length about everything going on over there and his experiences as a combat engineer. I must say, it was incredible to hear about the reality of the situation and all the peculiarities of war. For instance, in order to stay moderately comfortable in the oppressive heat, they would splay out on the cold granite floors of Saddam's mansions and palaces. Most amazing of all, was the perspective that he came back with. Over the course of our hour-long discussion, he put forth a very clear, rationale vision of what was working and what wasn't. Impressed the hell out of me, that's for sure.

Saw the Incredibles that night, which was fantastic in spite of the 5-minute "short" prior to the start of the flick that involved a dancing sheep.

Next day, met up with some girls from high school and bravely ventured over to the so-called "Homie Thanksgiving," put on by all the "homies" from the old "'hood". Never been to one of these before, but this is only the second annual, so I haven't missed much. Can't give many details about the event because it was just way too odd for me to describe (for example, the "homies" are interested in starting up a church to swindle money from unsuspecting Christians), but I was happy to see that at Homie Thanksgiving, they did actually eat a turkey (two, in fact).

Bright and early the next morning, woke up and caught a flight back to the Big Apple. Took the subway back from JFK and encountered no problems. I must be beginning to figure this place out. Next step, taking down Trump.

Case Round-up

Something I did not initially expect from law school was that I would be as interested in the material as I am. Now, it's not what your thinking. I mean, causation and promissory estoppel are great and all that, but what I really find compelling are the more bizarre cases. Torts, for instance, serves up some particularly choice morsels. For your sampling pleasure, here are a few of the more interesting cases I've run into lately while reading my Torts casebook:

Summers v. Tice: Three guys go hunting - one is a veteran hunter, the other two are novices being trained. Expert leads with the other two flanking him, one to each side. He flushes some quail from off to one side, which then proceed to fly right behind him. Both novices open fire on the quail - and on the expert, who loses an eye in the process.

Lindley v. Knowlton: Some children are attacked by their neighbor's chimpanzee (don't you hate it when that happens?). The mother recovers damages for trauma she suffered as a result of fending off the attacking primate. This case is from 1918, if you were wondering.

There are more, but I'm tired.

"I just blue myself."

Wow, Arrested Development is hysterical. Unless I'm watching Ali G or a Seinfeld re-run, TV programming is pretty much incapable of making me laugh. But not with Arrested Development. Sitting alone in my room, watching through my laptop and the USB TV Box I purchased for fifty bucks, Arrested Development has got me demonstrating LOL over and over again.

Ro, don't be upset.

Sylvie made me do it.

I didn't even want to, but then I realized that I should have some record besides my shotty memory of what has happened in NYC. Don't worry, this insignificant little thing isn't going to be eternal like Rodion.net - it's got no staying power. Even if I tried, I couldn't make a Fantasy Survivor half as good as yours.

Minority Report

Camel, a word which evokes images of dunes and sandstorms, is actually the name of a Korean club in midtown New York. Against my better judgment, I acquiesced to my friend Brian's repeated requests for me to join him in one of his much-hyped, whiskey-driven romps at the oddly named club last night. Suffice it to say, being the only white guy - and the tallest person in the club - led to a bewildering experience and a night I won't soon forget.

Actually, it could have been much less unusual, or at least I could have better dealt with the awkwardness, if I would have been the least bit drunk. Even after having two pitchers of sangria with dinner, and a beer or two one club prior to Camel, I was in no way, shape, or form intoxicated. Well, why not purchase a beverage, Andrew? That would seem to be the sensible thing to do to solve your problem of clear headedness.

And that is just what I did. I sidled up the bar, waited for the bar tender, who, in a strange cost-cutting measure I have never witnessed before, was also the DJ, and ordered an innocuous Bud Light. This they did not have in stock at the moment, so he instead supplied me with a Coors Light. Close, but not cigar, mon frere. While the identity of my drink was disappointing, I was at last on my way to comfort in a place where I stood out like a sore thumb.

In making this purchase, I learned something: since most of Camel's patrons originate from Seoul and are bank-rolled by some rich family member or relative (according to Brian, the resident expert), the food and drink at this club are astronomically priced. How much did I pay? Try $8 for a Coors Light. I don't even like Coors, let alone Coors Light, and I spent $9, with the requisite tip, to drink one. When I approach Brian to complain, he tells me that most people aren't even allowed in this Club unless they plan on participating in the ultra-expensive "bottle service" offered at each table. Sadly, that information, conveyed in a more timely manner, could have helped me.

So, it turned out, the thing that separated me most from the Koreans was not my ethnicity (or lack thereof) but my unwillingness to be economically eviserated on a repeated basis. In other words, I opted to remain sober and a wee bit uncomfortable.

Red, White, and Blue

Talk about a punch in the gut. Two elections in a row now my hopes have been inflated almost to the breaking point - in 2000 when the news that Gore had won Florida was mistakenly reported and in 2004 when all of the pre-election polls indicated Bush was on his way out - only to suffer a crushing defeat November 3rd. Turns out this election wasn't about the economy, the Iraq war, or health care (or the lack thereof) - it was about gay marriage and the "protection" of American values.

Protection from what? To explain the paranoa and irrationality, Middle Americans leaning to the far right must envision a doomsday scenario that goes something like this: an army of gays and lesbians coming to your town to steal your child as part of a massive gay agenda indoctrination movement, so that someday, they can take over America and, from there, turn the world into one big anti-heterosexual bonanza.

Gimme a fucking break.

Grow up all you insecure, sexually frustrated white males. Homosexuals are not competing for your marriage, your wife, your job (it's too menial), your guns, or your America.

Halloween parade just hours ago. Damn, it seems like all of New York turns out for this thing. With the crowd so large, we could hardly move. When we did, each hard-earned step incurred the wrath of an irrate she-devil or intoxicated spiderman. Good times.

We decided to decorate our bare wall with little kid-style pictures of pumpkins. To our surprise, a few people at the party decided to join in, creating a mural of sorts in our kitchen. 

More party madness.  

Party in full swing. Our apartment was so packed that people spilled into the hallway to escape the congestion. 

Decorations for our Halloween party last night. This is the hallway just outside our door. Since we are at the end of the hall, we were able to extend our reach a bit.