We're Not Leaving Until at Least One of us is Dead

So I went to Atlantic City this weekend with Ben, Davia, and Emily Goo.  We planned this trip back in early January.  The planning process went like this (as with all my transcriptions of conversations that happened months ago, this is entirely apocryphal, but it is what I remember to be true):

Emily: "After R&G is over, we should do a roadtrip.  I have always wanted to visit Williamsburg.  Let's go there and visit Kelsey."

Me: "Great idea!  But she has a conference that weekend and won't be there."

Emily: "Oh..."

Me: "Well we're still free that weekend, right?  Let's just go somewhere anyway."

Emily: "Where?"

Me: "Just point somewhere on the map.  Disneyworld?"

Emily: "Too far. Atlantic City?"

And that's how that happened.  None of us had ever been there and Cioffi (Goo's car) needed an inaugural journey.  Also I figured after weeks of flipping coins that only came up heads, my luck would be pretty good.

We left on Friday, after having spent a delightful Thursday night Beertrekking at Josh's place.  It may have been the best Beertrek ever.  This is now a Thursday night tradition.  We then sat in traffic for a while, because it is DC.  We listened to the entirety of Bat Boy: the Musical because that's the kind of thing we do.  I also read a fascinating book about North Korea. (Link goes to book.  Note that on Amazon it has 246 reviews, 240 of which are either 4 or 5 stars.  Because it is very well written and it deserves 4 or 5 stars.  Out of curiosity I took a look at the single one star review which starts with "First of all, I didn't read this book." and then proceeds to explain why it deserves one star because it is probably just a Western propaganda piece.  For those of you unfamiliar with internet terminology, this is a textbook example of what we might call "Trolling."  This is when you purposefully say something that you know will infuriate other people on the internet.  The comments on this "review" are also hilarious.)    

A few minutes after I offered to take over the driving shift (Cioffi driving Cioffi) a torrential downpour began.  Which, you know, figures.  Every time I said the words "I've driven in worse" the rain fell a little harder just to see if I would say it again.  Eventually I got to: "I've PROBABLY driven in worse, but I'm not sure," and it evened out a bit.  Since I am typing this, you can assume that we survived.

We made it to Caesar's Palace around 5:15 PM, at which point we walked into an indoor land of magic and whimsy where it was always dusk and there was no reason to care how hard it was raining outside.  We checked into our room, I accidentally blew up a bottle of tonic water (like I do), and we dressed up and went to dinner at the Atlantic Grill.  We had a server who reminded us somewhat of Tommy Wiseau in that he behaved in a such a bizarre manner that we couldn't help but love him.

Donald: "You know what you guys want?  A cosmopolitan.  They are delicious tonight."

Emily: "I'm not so much of a sweet drink person."

Donald: "I can have them make the cosmopolitan less sweet."

Emily: "No, thank you...."

Donald: "Are you sure?"

Emily: "How about a manhattan."

Donald (dejected): "Okay..."

He also immediately assumed that we were two couples on a fancy couple date.  At one point he said this following (and this is not apocryphal, this is exactly what he said):

"It's so wonderful when you see a man, and a woman.... and a man, and a woman... and I am their assistant."

Indeed he was.  It is a shame we didn't get a picture with him.

We did get a picture with Caesar, though.  And Cleopatra.

I didn't inquire as to whether he was supposed to be Julius Caesar (I was afraid of the answer- all of the other statues around the casino were of Augustus but Augustus and Cleopatra would make no sense.  Hi, I'm a nerd and something like that would actually bother me, which is a really stupid thing to think of in an Atlantic City Casino).  

As we left the restaurant that first night, Donald come over and leaned down conspiratorially.

"Guys- I'm going to leave you with just one thing.  I want you to remember this.  It. Was. Meant."

Thanks, Donald.  We'll never forget you.

Nor will we forget the delightfully large poker chip in the lobby.

We hit the casino and everyone played a bit of slots.  I used to be entirely against slots, but then one time in Montreal I was at a casino with this girl who had never been gambling before.  I, the wise gambler (I was 19), told her that slots were the worst thing you could possibly do.  Terrible odds.  She said she understood that but still wanted to play just once, just for fun.  I said fine and then watched knowingly as she squandered her five dollars.  On her last hit, she won $250.  Incredulous, I put a dollar into the machine next to hers.  I won $50.  So yes, slot machines are a terrible bet... but that's not really the point of them, is it?

Which is all just an apologetic for why I immediately lost $10 on slots.  Ben won $20.  Of course he did.  Once we were done with our mandatory "we're here and we've played some casino games" thing, we went upstairs and went to sleep because we were tired.  Emily was especially tired.  This evening represented the first time that I saw belligerently tired Goo.  I think it's her way of wearing herself out before bed, since she is naturally just a fireball of energy.  She would tell the story differently, I'm sure.

Among the things yelled at me before she tired herself out:

"I need it! [a cough drop] I have a sore throat!  You're going to ruin my life!" 

"I'm going to call your mom and tell her you're fired from my life."

"I'm storming into the bathroom in a rage.  IN A RAGE!"

"Who's electric toothbrush is in the bathroom? [It was mine.] I was staring at it.  The electric toothbrush.  The whole time.  Just furious."  

Davia and Ben laughed the whole time, as they were not the focus of her arbitrary ire.  I was also laughing, which probably resulted in more verbal barrages.

Saturday morning, I woke up to Emily hitting me, but this time because she was sick and needed help.  I got her ice and medicine for what was apparently a short-lived stomach bug.  Karma?  

Davia and Ben and I watched "Tangled" while waiting for Goo to stop dying in the corner.  Good movie!  Davia cried on my shirt.  Not because Goo was in pain.  Because of the Disney movie.

Goo recovers surprisingly quickly and no hospital visit is required.  Great success.  

We pose in front of Caesar Augustus.  The time is dusk.  As always.

We went to the exactly-how-you-would-expect-it-to-be Trump Casino, which was next door.  They had $1 blackjack.  Or rather, $1.25 blackjack, because there was a 25 cent dealer fee for every hand.  After a bit I came out exactly even.  And Ben was up a few bucks.  Again.  Davia watched.  Another rousing success.   Then we got hotdogs and ice cream and watched the water fountain show.  Not quite as impressive as the one in Vegas, but still pretty good.  

Less than an hour later, Davia wins $75 playing penny slots on her first machine of the night.  I finally get up a bit on slots and then make the silly decision to play Texas Holdem.  Emily and I both go in.  I sat next to a guy with an NYPD hat who proceeded to slaughter everyone at the table with every hand, including me (I lost with pocket kings- lady luck was not with me).  I lose all my slot winnings.  Goo wins exactly what I lost.  I calculate that, given the number of free drinks I was brought, I can rationalize my losses as having paid $12.50 each for two gin and tonics.  Worth it.

Ben had a moot court argument on Sunday morning, so he had to leave on a bus at 1AM.  We left Caesar's and went to the Wild West Casino to wait with him.  

And take goofy pictures.

We also got a ton of wings (it was a wild-west themed casino, so of course there was a giant wings station) and many kinds of sauce.  Good 1AM food.  After Ben left we played Settlers of Catan.  I should mention that, as we left the casino the next day, the bellhop saw the game and said "I hope that was for a drinking game."  We lied and said it was.  It was not.  It's just a good game.  Emily tried to cheat and the game ended during a scuffle that resulted in the game board being knocked off kilter, but that, again, is a story that I imagine she would tell differently.

The next morning we went out to get breakfast and ran into the worst drug dealer in the world.  He called out to us from across the street.  "I got these great buds, man!"  We resist the urge to tell him that there was a flaw in his brilliant marketing strategy (I especially wanted to stop and say- "everything you are doing is both reasonable suspicion AND probable cause.") and went on our way.  On our way back we saw him hanging around what appeared to be a twenty year old white girl who was on the phone with her friend asking about prices.  I'm sure that exchange ended well.

We had a delicious brunch at a Mexican place where we were the only ones speaking English.  A good find.  Then we went back to Trump (can't get enough of all that red decor) and I moved on to roulette.  I allowed Davia and Emily to select my numbers, and I came out $12 up.  Then I lost it on the slot machines, because I can't resist the slot machines.  Even though they're bad bets.  I end the weekend basically even.  Davia finished up some amount, as did Goo.  I'm not sure of Ben's tally.  I'm sure it would upset me.  But it wouldn't surprise me, because it's Ben.  

An epic weekend surrounded by wonderful friends!

101

Little did I know when I posted Emily Goo's blog this past week that it was to be my 100th blog post.  I think that it is entirely fitting that she would be the one to claim this milestone.  After all, at its inception this blog was all about navigating the uncertainties in my life as I approached something new and scary and exciting.  I have been extremely lucky to have found a friend as good as Goo to help me along as I stumbled through an alien environment, and I am touched that she wrote such a nice post for the 100th entry. 

Now that R&G is over, I will have time to return to my regularly scheduled postings (Disclaimer: there are no regular posting times.  Past frequency is not indicative of future success.).  I would like to thank all of you who came out to see R&G this past weekend- it was so great seeing so many groups of friends and family converging and overlapping.  Special thanks to Josh and Emily, who gamely agreed to wrangle various groups and introduce/watch over them when I was backstage getting ready and unable to take on those duties. 

I will post pictures from the past couple of weeks as they become available- I know for a fact I was in many of them.  Until then, I hope everyone is enjoying President's day.  I am spending my time reading up on Criminal Justice and contemplating writing a children's book on the Fourth Amendment titled: "If You Give a Cop a Warrant..."  Might make for a good study aid....

Guest Post: Emily G

(EDITOR'S NOTE: I've been wanting to write an update, but I haven't had time.  Goo said: "Why haven't you updated the blog?" I said: "Busy. You write one."  She said: "Fine."  This is the result of that. I told her I wouldn't change anything she wrote.  That may have been a mistake.)

Good morning, Friends of Mike. I am honored, chuffed and mildly mad with power to be the first guest blogger in the history of Walking Into A Buzzsaw. They call me Emily Goo. In a year where I have been fortunate enough to make many new amazing friends, Mike is the one I've become closest to by far, and I'm more or less incapable of exaggerating my fondness for him. We met during Curtains, which I used to depart from my regular identity as mild-mannered Congressional staffer by day and develop an alternate nocturnal personality characterized by showtune addiction, allowing myself to be talked into overly revealing costumes, and excessive reliance on any strain of humor that can be coupled with the phrase "That's what she said."

Mike also is one of the few people who gets me to talk about my feelings; since this is not at all my bag, I don't know exactly how he does that - possibly sorcery, maybe sodium thiopental - but to his great credit, I must confess that it hasn't been the worst thing in the world. You know how Tracy Jordan on 30 Rock is always asking the world to help him figure out what's "on his mind grapes"? Mike is, essentially, the curator of my mind grapes. Often, in the middle of a workday (whatever, I get a lunch break), I will tear across the Capitol and over to his apartment, where I drag him away from whatever he's doing to scream with me in the alleyways of Northwest DC. We also are proud to be the two creepiest people in our theater company - his is more of the creepy-hug, heavy-breathing, invading-your-personal-space-to-the-point-that-you-can't-help-but-like-it type, whereas I'm more of a prowl-outside-your-door, leave-you-on-edge-because-you-have-no-idea-if-I'm-watching-everything-you're-doing-from-a-secure-location variety - but either way, we earn the crap out of that title, both competitively and cooperatively. And no, in case this love letter to one of my dearest friends is coming across incorrectly, Mike and I really are just friends. In point of fact, we assume a tremendous amount of personal responsibility for conducting each other's romantic affairs, like some kind of unholy proxy.

Here is a picture of us at Sarah's princess party on Friday (more on that below). It explains everything.

You get the idea. You just want to know: Where exactly IS Mike right now? Well, relax - he's definitely not tied to a post in my basement with a bucket, Latin bible and a daily ration of Xanax-laced sweet tea and 16 ounces of canned beans. No, really, he's spending his entire days in class - just ask anyone dealing with the withdrawal symptoms from his usually liberal use of GChat during the day, cf. your humble guest blogger - and his entire evenings in rehearsal, since we are now less than 36 hours from the opening curtain of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. For those of you with poor retention, Mike plays the leading role of Guildenstern, where he has to really stretch his range by playing a sarcastic, wisecracking, often befuddled man wandering around a nebulous world waiting to see what happens. In all seriousness, though, he continues to be among the most extraordinary actors I've known, and as the assistant director for the show, watching him inhabit this role has been exhilarating. What? You don't even have tickets yet? How do you even live with...okay. No. We can fix this. Hie you hence to this link and reserve your ticket this instant. http://www.goldstar.com/events/washington-dc/rosencrantz-and-guildenstern-are-dead-1

There, don't you feel better? Isn't it nice not walking around with all that uncertainty about the next time you get to see Mike perform? Surely it's been affecting your digestion. I'm glad I could help.

To give you the full experience, I'll give you a few snapshots from Mike's life in the last few days:
- This most recent Friday night, he attended a princess party for our friend Sarah's birthday. Here, have a picture of Davia, Ben, me, Mike, and Kelsey. Yeah, I know I'm front and center in this one. It's my guest blog, it is my prerogative!

- On Saturday, he blew off much of R+G's load-in, much to Master Carpenter Davia's chagrin, to show Kelsey around the town. (EDITOR'S NOTE: This is not exactly true, but I don't have time to explain.  This may be a flaw in my brilliant plan to let Emily guest-blog.)

- On Sunday night, he saw Kelsey off and then had rehearsal all night. Also Monday. He also will have rehearsal all night tonight.

- Last night, for rehearsal, his detachable sleeves became permanently detached due to a wardrobe malfunction, so he was required to perform his role with a sleeveless jacket over white shirt, which lent a pleasingly Han Solo-esque quality to his portrayal of Guildenstern.

So, there. You're all caught up on all things Mike. Thank you all for having me. Tell Mike how much you adored this post, and perhaps I will be back for future guest blogging.

In Which Mike Goes Insane For No Reason

So about a week ago I had to turn in a short paper for Property class.  This is unusual in law school.  Every other class I have has only one grade: the final exam.  My Property teacher wanted to make things more interesting for us by giving us a few projects throughout the semester that are worth small portions of our grade.  The first project was a paper about a movie about a dispute about a baseball.  A baseball worth a million dollars.  Because it was, like, the 73rd one hit by Barry Bonds in 2001.  Or something like that.

If you know me, my reaction to this movie will be entirely unsurprising.  An excerpt:

"This brings to mind a question: why is it not illegal to lob a small, hard object worth a small fortune into a tightly packed crowd of slightly inebriated strangers with the directive that whosoever shall arise from the resulting scuffle wielding said small and hard object in their fist shall be the rightful owner?"

I analyzed the movie from the point of view of the various rules of property ownership that could have applied.  I was, of course, having a wonderful and sarcastic time of it.  Another excerpt:

"As the Athenian delegation in the 400’s BC told the inhabitants of Melos 

shortly before destroying them, “The strong do what they can and the weak suffer 

what they must.” 1 (In this context, Hayashi’s alleged biting of the young Brian 

Shepherd in order to get the baseball was entirely reasonable as a method for 

acquiring it.)"  

(The "1" was a footnote which read: "Thucydides, Peloponnesian War, 404.   It is an interesting historical note that, after the Athenians sacked Melos, the remnants of the Melians joined up with the Spartans in sacking Athens.")

So yes, I had too much fun.  Still, when I received the paper back over e-mail I was not expecting what I saw at the bottom:

Bottom left corner.  Zero.   As in- no points.  And the note, which as far as I can tell read "Is this ridiculous a general feature or limited to extreme/unusual circumstances?"  And which I first thought was relating to my thesis but then imagined might be just in reference to me in general.

The paper was out of five points, so I was, as you may imagine, dismayed.  I didn't think I had done a bad job.  Was my snarkiness finally catching up to me?  Was I going to pay dearly for having planted my tongue firmly in my cheek?  

I don't care about grades, but I do care very much when my general idea of what sort of job I did is entirely opposite of the result.  I e-mailed the professor asking, very nicely, if I could come in and have a chat because I didn't understand from the feedback what I had done so terribly wrong as to have my work product rendered absolutely worthless.  I hate not understanding.  I was distraught.

Then she sent me an e-mail saying, in part, "your grade is circled.  Let me rescan it."

I waited.  Then I got this:

Ah.  Four out of five.  Basically A-, in terms of how the scale works.  Right.  That makes more sense.

I still belong in law school!  Not a total failure!  Yay!  

Innocence Project meeting now.  

Steaklunch 2: The Luncheoning

Whereas Steaklunch is the greatest idea ever, and whereas we had not had Steaklunch in many months, it was resolved that Ben and I should Steaklunch once more.  And, like every Steaklunch, it was glorious.

Ben made mashed potatoes and gravy. 

(Steaklunch doesn't require sides, but if a side is present it must be mashed potatoes.)

When ordering our groceries for the next week weeks, in addition to getting the steak for Steaklunch we also ordered a "Bloomin' Onion" thinking that it would, you know, be sort of like a "Bloomin' Onion."  It was, in fact, bread with pieces of onion baked into it.  We added it to Steaklunch because Steaklunch can turn failure into victory.   

Obligatory shot of me making the steak.  

My eyes are sort of crazed, but hey, that's Steaklunch for you.

Remember in my first post about Steaklunch when I said that Steaklunch takes effort?

This video details the part of that effort that has to deal with our poor ventilation.

As always, Ben approaches his Steaklunch with the most serious of intention.

After Steaklunch I took a lovely walk around the Capitol with Goo.  I am mentioning this here just so that it can serve as a permanent placeholder/reminder for me that I promised/threatened to do something about 25 years from now.  So there.  Now it's on the blog.  It's permanent.  I will never forget.

Brain Full. Head Hurts.

I have such First World Problems.

I didn't get to go to any parties this weekend because I needed to memorize things.  All the things.  ALL the things.  I missed out on a party for Trevor at which there was:

1.  A dinosaur theme
2.  Cider
3.  Jurassic Park
4.  Bacon-wrapped sausage
and
5.  Volcano Cake

As you can imagine, I am distraught over this.  I will have to make up for it in the future.  Somehow I will get a bigger Volcano cake and... bacon-wrapped-bacon, or something.  I don't even, truthfully, know exactly what was meant by "volcano cake."  I just know I want one and I didn't get to try any tonight.

That's okay, because I memorized a closing argument and Act 2 of R&G.  I didn't make the mock trial team (probably mercifully, as I should not do more things- roommate Ben has started joking that I belong to every organization here, for some reason), but I learned a lot in preparing for it and I'm looking forward to taking some sort of trial advocacy class next year.  I told Davia and Noah, who helped me prepare, that if I was going to make the team then I was going to do it my way.  They informed me that my way was really snarky and I was not going to make the team if I delivered my speech in any way like myself.  They were correct, but it was worth it because I got to say (paraphrased for context and clarity, emphasis added): "Why would my client only shoot Judge Tu once if she really wanted to murder him?  She didn't run out of bullets.  She had plenty of bullets!"

Ben and I have also planned for the second official Steaklunch on Monday.  I'm really excited about that.

With any luck, I will memorize Act 3 tomorrow.  And, you know, do homework....

P.S.

I have been told by the treasurer for GGSS that I should send out information about program advertisements for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.  So here is that information.  I am in no way saying that I want or expect anyone to do this, but I told Kiera that I would make an announcement of some sort.  You can e-mail her at klbloore@gmail.com.   It's like, $10 for a business-card sized advertisement, $25 for a quarter page, $50 for a half page, and $75 for a full page ad.  So if you want to, you can make up an advertisement that says pretty much whatever you want and force our audiences to see it.  She needs to know by Monday, so after Monday ignore this.

Pinochle is Not Normally Played with Cocaine

This week I'm working on round two of mock trial tryouts.  Again, this is a terrible idea, but you know I can't resist.  It's basically acting, but without any character development.  This Saturday I have to do an eight minute closing argument and a seven minute cross-examination of a witness.  Hooray for fifteen more minutes of things I need to memorize.

Speaking of things I need to memorize, this weekend I am committed to doing almost nothing besides learning my lines for R&G.  This is sort of necessary, as it is coming up swiftly.  I really shouldn't be doing anything else.  Like writing blog posts.  Oh well.

I had my first brush with extreme investigatory disappointment yesterday.  I was researching a guy for my Innocence Project case.  He was a potential witness and he had written our inmate just a few years ago saying that he had talked to someone else who wanted to recant his statement.  I found him pretty easily using the whitepages, and then I did some more google sniffing: I found out his wife's name, his address history, his employment... and THEN I found out that he had been murdered in 2009.  So that was... neither happy nor helpful.

Classes continue to be a lot of fun.  I really love Constitutional Law.  We're going line by line through opinions from the early 1800's and for some reason that works for me.  I don't know why.

In Criminal Justice we continue to go through the 4th Amendment and its application.  The more cases I read the more I realize that the Supreme Court is mostly just applying the Vampire rule to homes.  You know- the one that says if you don't invite a vampire into your home he can't enter, but if you're outside you are fair game.  If you take that concept and replace "vampire" with "warrant-less searches" then you've pretty much got the idea.

Also, if you are engaged in an illegal activity but you also are engaging in a noncommercial social activity, you may be able to acquire the "protection" of the house you are in.  Hence the title of this post.