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My first day at grownup skool

By kellyfair

So today I started my new job, which is an internship that turns into a grownup job if I pass the bar and otherwise don't completely fuck up a good thing, which is something I am exceptionally talented at. (Hey, it's good to know your strengths.) I also put my bar application in the mail. It was 86 pages. I have, obviously, lived a very full life. I started to include a bottle of Excedrin for the poor schmuck who has to pick through it, but I needed those pills myself after finishing that shit.

I like my new job. Seeing how bad people fuck up their lives makes me feel like less of a screwup. And we get paid, on top of that. So, that works for me. Oh, also you get to argue at work. Who gets away with that? Trial lawyers, that's who! yeah!

The office consists of two rednecks and a yankee. One of the rednecks is an ex stripper with no driver's license. Let me admit it now: my kind o' people. You can take the girl out of the trailer, get her hooked on $16 a pound goat cheese and fresh ground locally roasted coffee, put her in a suit, teach her to flip an omelet and fill her ipod with hip hop but man, you cannot ever take the trailer out of the girl. It's just a fact of life. Must as I love sushi and as many indie movies as I've seen, (many of which left me asking "what the fuck was the point of that miserable shit?"), you know what I want when I get stressed? Corn bread and turnip greens. The ex stripper and I will get along just fine.

So, life is, arguably, pretty good, and there seems to be much corn bread and arguing in my future, which is just fine by me. Happy new year, y'all, and if you start fucking up your life, drop on by. I'll be happy to charge you to feel better about myself.

Full post as published by caligulawyer on January 02, 2008 (boomark / email).