Bananas go to law school, too!


Bow. Chica. Bow. Wow

Sorry, bloggie, I haven't forgotten about you; yet. Second week of classes proved a bit more hectic than the first and the blog has been put on the back burner next to "going to the bank" and "rearranging closet by color." So, folks, my checks might bounce and chartreuse mgiht be next to SKY BLUE for heaven's sake, but I'm updating.

I was recently minding my own business in the elevator, going down to check my mail, when Dopey Boy hops on at the 16th floor with two Dopey Friends. Floppy hair, hoodie, flip flops; Dopey Boy was ready for a day on the town. He shimmies not two inches from me and leans against the way - and then his right hand proceeds to GRAB AND CARESS MY ASS. Now, this may be "New York City" so perhaps such things are to be expected but I, being from the lowly Midwest where such ass grabbage is not so common, look up and give him a "look of concern."

"Oh my God, I just grabbed your ass, didn't I?"


"Oh my God, I thought it was the handrail."

What THIS means is that my ass is not only rock-hard, but has metallic, magnetic properties and is cool to the touch.

"Nope, my butt."

I'm a classy lady and don't say "ass" places outside this here blog.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't believe I just did that. Are you a student here? Becauase I am so sorry. Oh my gosh."

Here, Dopey Boy turns a shade of red I have never seen and I start laughing at him. As one should do.

"No, it's REALLY okay."

I take action wherever I can get it, clearly.

"No, I can't believe I just did that. Now I'm going to see you everywhere and you're going to just think of me as that weird guy who grabbed your ass in the elevator."


"...I can't believe I jsut did that, oh my God. My name's Eric, by the way."


"Nice to meet you."

I'm still laughing at him. "No, really, it's okay."

"No, I am so sorry. I can't believe I did that."

Believe it, Sir Mix-a-Lot.

Finally. Lobby.

I walk off to my mailbox and then, for NO REASON AT ALL, head to the law library without thinking. So as not to make my trip totally pointless (as I was not carrying my books with me), I pick up the law school bulletin and head back home.

I step onto the elevator and look to my right.

Yes, you guessed it.

"Watch your hands, there, Eric."

"They have a mind of their own."