Bananas go to law school, too!


Woohoo! The hard drive that Dell sent me is, officially, more than twice as big as my original, now-defunct, one. The silver lining to this tragedy is becoming thicker :)

Grabbed beers with Christina after another marathon study day/night at the library and it was MOST GOOD.

Except, for the second time this semester, my purse got stolen. And, for the second time this semester, I found my purse by the grace of fate and the Baby Jesus. You think I'm joking, but I'm not. We were sitting at the bar drinking our delicious brews and I had placed my purse in the crevice of the barchair. It had slipped down without my noticing, but I DID notice a character bend down right next to my chair and quickly walk out of the bar. I found this curious, but didn't think about it until I realized that MY PURSE WAS NO WHERE TO BE FOUND. Of course, I didn't have anything in my purse except chapstick, my school ID and my state ID. My credit card was with the bartender, and I don't travel with cash. Except for a handful of change for my random, but inevitable, Cooler Ranch Doritos craving. However, yee olde state ID CANNOT BE LOST because I recently have "misplaced" my birth certificate. And, being born on a farm in Poland, it's hard to "just stop by" the town hall and pick up a copy. And, Illinois being a bitch, you can't get a State ID (cough cough, no driver's license) without a birth certificate. One more tiny bit of motivation to get my driver's license.

And so begins baby panic attack NUMBER TWO of the past week. Because, in addition to having no hard drive I HAVE NO IDENTITY.

A gentleman by the name of "Eric" comes to our aid. "Eric" bears a striking resemblence to "Chuck" (yes, that Chuck), what with the bald head, short stature, and 11-year-old son in tow. Strike the son part, he left his son at home with his parents, clearly. Anyway, "Eric" made a very valid point about, since I had NOTHING of value to any would-be thief, he would probably have just dropped it on the ground instead of carrying around a tiny black purse all night. Therefore, a police report might actually help.

I borrowed Christina's cell and walked outside to make the call. As I walked outside, I saw a waitress with my purse in her hand and almost had a heart attack right there. She pointed out the "kindly gentleman" who had given it to her. Which I SWEAR was the dude who had earlier been squatting up on my barchair.

In order to make things as awkward as possible, I went over to him and THANK YOU SOOO MUCH, I REALLY CAN'T TELL YOU HOW APPRECIATIVE I AM, THANK YOU. And the would-be thief seemed positively uncomfortable. Because that's what I do best, make people uncomfortable. High-five.