Hello. Welcome to my website. It started while I was in Europe for a semester, and I've kept it up since then. I'm now at the University of Chicago Law School, living in Hyde Park, and the story continues. If you want to say hi or visit me, email cfloyd at uchicago dot edu.
"Life is nothing if not the sum of your anecdotes." -Scotty The Body, on storytelling "But it ain't that bad, man. Just figure out the system before the system figures out you." -T. Matthew Smith, on the 1L year "The beer just doesn't taste as good when you're not drinking it with your buddies." -Anon., on being away from good friends "Somebody has to pay the rent around here. Why the hell not us?" -Cotton, on studying for exams
6/21/2004
Monday morning. It's rainy. I didn't want to get out of bed, but I made myself. I'm at work right now. I've been here for a little over an hour and it's been quite productive. I made coffee and fixed the printer by turning it off then back on. That did it. I also made a list of things to print. Now that I fixed the printer I can print those things. I am the pinnacle of American office efficiency.
Stories from last week:
On my first day, the secretary for the judge asked if I'd be interested in going to lunch. I said yes. She said it was at "the church." I then realized it might be that kind of lunch. But I didn't back out. So I went along at noon to First Baptist Church in downtown Tulsa with a bunch of legal secretaries who go every Tuesday to get down-home cooking with an extra dose of the Lord. Lunch was fried chicken, mashed potatoes, beans, vanilla pudding, and other tasty fixings. Delicious. While it digested we listened to the sermon or homily or message or whatever. The week's theme was Sex. Basically the preacher got up and addressed the evils of sexual addiction and indiscretion in a forthright, if somewhat bashful way. He also made a lot of G-rated jokes to break the ice, prefacing each one with "this might cross the line, but here goes..." Computers and the Internet seemed to be problematic in this area. Anyway, I came away with the feeling that Baptists were a very lustful group of people, barely in control of their libido. Unlike Episcopalians, who neither acknowledge, nor have, sex.
I share my workspace in the library with interns for other judges. Sometimes it's just me and this girl Carol who is very quiet. Silence reigns when we're in there. But we sit in leather chairs, so sometimes my belt rubs against the chair with a bit of sqeaky friction. If I were 8 years old it might seem like what some call a "fart." But we are quite good at ignoring the sounds my belt makes when it rubs against the chair. Only small children would mistake it for something untoward. The other afternoon some squeaky noises came from Carol's direction. Understanding the nature of those silly sounds, I went on with my work, not worried about a potential pollution of the library atmosphere. But then I froze. It occurred to me... CAROL WASN'T WEARING A BELT. I immediately stood up to make some coffee. And laugh my ass off.
I met the Irish pub dude at his place. He didn't buy me a beer. I think I'll go back and threaten him with another bad review until he does. But I'm not using his name or his pub's name here because he'll google me again and track me down and try to fight me. Or at least try to e-fight me. That's even scarier.
I needed some khakis for work so I went to GAP the other day. GAP is a nice place to shop. I needed assistance finding pants and looked around for a helper. I spotted a guy all GAPped out in a GAP logo ringer-T folding sweaters at a table, weight on one leg, head cocked to the other side. This guy was a GAP dude, I was sure of it. I asked him to help me find flat-front khakis... he looked at me funny... I knew right then I had the wrong dude. "I don't WORK here," he said. "Oh, sorry, I assumed from your ringer-T and clothes-folding and bored, girly posture that you were a helper here. My bad." Then I just found someone else. Be careful at GAP, there are real helpers but there are poseurs probably just hoping to get hired. No, don't bother commenting, I'm not posing and hoping to get hired. I just go in there because they have 35-waist pants that fit better than 36 but aren't tight like 34. And sometimes I stand around and fold sweaters and think about what color terrycloth polo I should purchase. Awesome.
I got an email from the Body describing his perfect weeked with Jacobson in St. Louis. Hey, tell you what, go see Dave Matthews and meet Boyd and then drink factory-fresh Budweiser at a Cards game and see Pujols hit a walkoff in the tenth. That's cool. And listen, it would be awesome if you did that and didn't invite me. That would be sweet. So from now on if you all have wonderful weekends or adventures without me, I want to know all about them so I can think about what it would have been like to have gone with you. Okay? Great.
This has been a nice use of a half-hour. Man, it's great to get paid to sit at a computer and do nothing. Oh wait. Man, it's great to get to come to an office for free and sit at a computer and do nothing. Now I'll write a memo.
