Monday, February 27, 2012

High Five

I spent the weekend finishing up studying for the New Jersey Bar Exam.  It's been a rough and lonely few months and I desperately missed my friends so I decided to get out of the house yesterday afternoon and met up with my friend, Katie.  Katie is the type of friend who I can always count on to go out and have a good time.  Whether it's taking pictures with vertically challenged diner bus boys or scaring away creepsters at a bar by telling them I'm pregnant, nights with Katie never disappoint.  Not to mention, she shares junky bar food with me.

So, when Katie told me to get my butt invited me to the Brick House yesterday to watch the Daytona 500 with her and a friend, I was happy to take a study break.  Beer and soft pretzels are enticing, but add in an excuse to dress up like white trash and I'm there!   Katie also promised there would be cowboys at the bar--liar!

Disclaimer: I do not actually own a camouflage thong.

While there were no cowboys as promised, there a group of Jersey trash boys to keep us entertained.  Katie knew one of the guys in the group through a former roommate and I can safely say she either does not hang out with these guys or is lying to me so that I don't judge her.  Yes, it was that bad.  I could describe the night as a sequel to Why I Don't Date Men in Their 20's but I'd hate to give the rest of the cohort a bad name because of three specific individuals.  So, who did I meet last night?  Let's call them High Five, Chinstrap and ThugLife.

High Five was the mutual friend of Katie's former roommate and the seemingly most normal out of the bunch.  He was dressed in a non-matching sweatsuit (as opposed to the guy wearing the matching Nautica sweatsuit who bragged that he had spent $150 on the look), had pretty blue eyes that could just be made out through his heavy drunk eyelids and a penchant for high fives.  He and his friends had come from a bachelor party in Atlantic City where the groom-to-be (or someone else, I really have no idea) got arrested the night before.  High Five spent half of his time at the bar telling Katie's friend how he used to be in love with her (she's married now) and how he wishes he could have slept with her before she was betrothed.  Apparently, Katie's friend's breasts are just "too big to be married off".  Charming.  The other half of his time was spent trying to kiss me.  In his defense, at least he asked first.  

High Five: "Can I kiss you?"
Me: "No, thank you."

High Five: "Why?"
Me: "Because you're drunk."
High Five:  ::sips water:: "Can I kiss you now?  I drank some water.  I'm not drunk."
Me: "No, now you just taste like water."
High Five: "That seems fair.  High Five!"

Chinstrap was an um, strapping (?) 26 year old fellow with full arm sleeve tattoos, a fancy shmancy hoodie and of course, a chin strap of facial hair.  He sidled up to our trio of ladies and started talking about something boring or stupid enough for me to have mentally checked out of the conversation from the get go.  After a while he asked what I did and I said I was a non-practicing attorney working in legal recruiting.  This opened a Pandora's box for Chinstrap who proceeded to tell me that he was a teacher who works with "retards" (his words, not mine) but that he is planning on taking the LSATs, going to law school and getting a job as a School Board attorney making $400k a year out of law school.  Awesome, I told him and wished him luck, mentioning that the legal market is pretty tough right now...and that I have a better chance of being a size 0 than him making $400k.  Some people are under the impression that an attorney's billing rate is directly proportionate to their salary.  This is not the case. For the record, billing $400/hour does not mean you will be making $400k a year.

Of course this didn't sit well with Chinstrap who proceeded to berate me loudly in a diatribe of "You don't know me...I'm the most motivated person you'll ever meet...I've got two Masters degrees from University of Phoenix at 26!....I'm gonna get a job as a School Board attorney and make $400k a year because my Dad's friend owns a firm and is holding a spot for me and I will be making that money straight out of the taxpayers ha!"  Right.  I smiled, sipped my water and watched as his friends dragged him outside for a breather as I discussed with Katie how "You don't know me" is code for "I'm ignorant and don't listen to what other people have to say."

I gave Chinstrap a few minutes to cool off before going outside to talk to him and clear the air.  Wanting to be the bigger person (and not wanting to get my ass kicked on the way to my car) I told him that it's great that he has delusions of grandeur dreams, wished him luck with his legal career and suggested that some anger control might serve him well with adversaries in the future.  One thing I pride myself on is being able to insult people without them realizing it and so I told Chinstrap, with a smile, that his early success as a teacher (um, he has two Masters degrees from University of Phoenix, yo) has made him very confident but that he is too arrogant and obnoxious and good lawyers don't pick fights with sober women in bars.   He apologized, offered to buy me a shot (I declined) and gave me a high five.

At the conclusion of my makeup session with Chinstrap, ThugLife joined the conversation excitedly, "You're a lawyer?!  I really could have used a lawyer when I was arrested!" Then he told us that he was arrested for beating up the police officers who came to arrest him with a warrant.  He failed to mention what the warrant was for, but justified his actions with the question, "What else was I supposed to do?"  Um, anything but run and beat up the cops would probably suffice.  So I explained that I wasn't a practicing attorney, lest someone give him my name and he asks me to represent him.

During the conversation the group was waiting on the bartender for drinks and ThugLife declared, "If you were a real lawyer you would have been able to get us drinks by now with your sneaky ways."  While I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, I had run out of patience with the crowd of degenerates and snapped, "My chosen profession has little effect on my ability to get a beer for a drunk thug at a crowded bar.  If you want a drink, get it yourself.  I'm drinking water and have little desire to wait on you."  Cue another round of, "You don't know me....I'm more successful than you'll ever be...I even own my own company!"

I smiled, of course, and said, "Good for you for making the best of a situation where you were unemployable." At this point I was getting frustrated and Katie was giving me the don't-poke-the-big-stupid-bear-just-because-you're-smarter-than-him look.  Thankfully, ThugLife had taken anger management courses and took my low blow as a compliment to his resourceful nature....then he looked at my boobs, smiled and offered to buy me a shot, as the bartender had stopped by to see what the ruckus was about.   I respectfully declined, smiled and gave him a high five.

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