Archive for July, 2010

The 7 Type of Women You Date in Law School

July 13, 2010


The older, second-career lawyer who’s somewhere between the high end of the “dirty thirties” and mid-forties.  She’s seen it all, done it all—without a hint of a stress hormones anywhere in her bloodstream.  This woman knows how to fuck and doesn’t want anything from you but an orgasm. 

Upside: Never an awkward exit; she throws you out when she’s done. 
Downside: You kind of want to stay.



Lives in the tombs of the library, studying tirelessly.  Never goes to the bars, never goes to parties.  So how does she blow off steam?  By blowing you until you’re rawer than an Indian burn.  Just as the quiet mousy chick in your freshman dorm hall screamed, “In my ass… Yes… Oh, God… Harder!” and tested the stress rivets on her mattress when her hometown boyfriend visited, the Library Jockey’s a closeted sex fiend and full-on four-star deviant. 

Bonus: You also get all of her outlines.
Downside: And genital warts. 



Been pulled over by a female cop?  Then you get the analogy.  You’re walking the white line and tongue-kissing the breathalyzer, even if you’re three houses from your driveway.  No quarter, no mercy.  Only ice water bathing her nerves.  Her counterpart in the law school world is an equally obsessed, equally ruthless rule custodian.  Either by nature or overcompensation, she has a need to appear more coldly analytical and rational than any male around her.  She’s drawn to the rigid aspects law, following the black letter rules to their every picayune syllable.  Reads the actual casebooks, as opposed to the Emmanuel’s outlines. Writes all her briefs from scratch, actually knows how to Sheppardize. The Japanese Army had less deference to procedure and rote, mindless execution.

Not-Unexpected Upside: Closet BDSM freak.
Downside: You’re the gimp.
Unexpected Upside: You like it.



Sixty percent of law students come looking for money. Twenty percent figure it beat playing Dungeons & Dragons and masturbating to in their parents’ basements for the rest of their lives.  Fifteen percent picked their heads up from a bong senior year of college and were struck with the epiphany, “Shit… I need a career.” All are deluded, of course, but none as much as the type of woman you’ll find in that last five percent: The Social Worker.  She came to law school seeking to change the world.  And now she’s facing the cruel realization that if there’s one place this will never happen—somewhere terminally, absolutely constipated on a ceaseless diet of risk aversion, mental masturbation, pettiness, tradition for tradition’s sake and senseless worship of precedent—it’s Law.

Upside: She’s earthy and in touch with herself.
Bonus Upside: She let’s you watch. 
Double Bonus Upside: Scores excellent dope.
Downside: Makes you smoke it with her at Phish shows.



She’s attractive, but a stress bag.  A walking, breathing car wreck.  Intelligent enough to be proficient, not quite smart enough to be calm.  Obsesses over every assignment or exam.  A nattering, nail-biting wreck.  Everyone she knows is her therapist, which is generally you more than any of the others.  Why?  Because the two of you got together after an exam, threw back a dozen vodkas and wound up screwing on her couch. 

Downside: Perpetually in some form of dire crisis, and you have to save the day. 
Bonus: The solution’s always sex.



Sleep with her and you own her.  You’re stuck with her, just like breaking a piece of fine china in a store.  The quest for a man defines her existence.  Which is why she can never keep any.  One drunken fuck, and she’ll follow you like a predator drone.  Any time you’re talking to another female student, in the corner of your eye, barely in your plane of vision, she’ll be there, staring daggers into your spine like Sissie Spacek in Carrie.  “You’re mine, you understand that?” You can all but see her mouthing the words.

Dangerous Downside: Her self esteem’s so low she’ll stoop to any level to keep you. 
(“We’re not exclusive.  You can’t show up at my place when I have a date over.”)
Hidden Upside: Her self esteem’s so low she’ll stoop to almost any level to keep you.
(“Unless you want to participate.”)



She’s hot. And she has to be for what she’s seeking, which isn’t a JD. Daddy has a few bucks, enough to pay her way through grad school.  And McKinsey wasn’t interviewing any Interpretative Dance majors. She thought about medical school.  She thought about an MBA. Both required actual work. So she took a Kaplan course, pulled a decent score on the LSAT and here she is, looking for the “Mr.” to her “Mrs.” If you’re a half-decent-looking law student with a thimble’s worth of charm (otherwise known as one of the twelve normal guys in the class), you’re in the midst of her “no less than two karats” crosshairs.

Upside: She looks great naked.
Downside: She screws like a Real Doll.
Morning-After Downside: Her birth control pill caddie has an undisturbed wrapper around it.
Extra-Horrible Morning-After Downside: So does the condom in your wallet.


My advice?  The same sage wisdom you’ve heard a million times before.  Never dip your pen in the company ink.  It’s not that you’ll screw up your future career.  That’d be a blessing in disguise.  It’s that you might screw up everything else.


How to be Good Looking

July 13, 2010

My Roomate the Douchebag

July 11, 2010