What a night.

After a long, grueling day at work, I finally signed out and booked out of here as fast as I could. There was only one problem though.

My car battery was dead.

When I came to work today, several news vans had parked (and doubled parked) in spaces I usually took, and since I was in a hurry, I turned on my hazard lights, doubled parked my car as well, and ran inside so I could sign in on time. I came back out again, found another parking space to stash my car, and yep, I forgot to turn off the hazard lights.

Mother@#$%.

I didn’t want to embarrass myself by asking around here for somebody to help jumpstart my car, so I called up roadside assistance, figuring it wouldn’t be a big deal for them to send somebody over to quickly get me up and running again.

Good grief, it was like I had called the DMV.

“What is your VIN number?”

“What is the make and model of your vehicle?”

“What is your call back number?”

“What is your current home address?”

“What is your work address?”

“What is the color of your vehicle?”

Color???? Who gives a crap what color it is?? Just send somebody over here to jumpstart it already so I can go home, dammit!!!!!!!!

FINALLY, the operator informed me that someone would shortly arrive and that I would get two automated calls to confirm the service truck’s arrival.

I get the first call: “Your service truck is estimated to arrive in one hour.”

Fortunately the guy came sooner than that. On my way out to greet him, I passed by a couple of young lawyers, a guy and a girl who worked out of our case assessment office. They were stepping out too but ignored me. The guy was built, clean cut, and nicely dressed in a sharp suit, and the girl of course was a gorgeous looking brunette. I looked at them and felt ashamed. I was in rags of a uniform, a 5 o’ clock shadow on my face, with sad, broken eyes whose fire had died out a long time ago. I looked at them for a long moment. Accomplished people. Happy people. Something I would never become, a life that I would never have. I quickened my pace to get away from them and headed up the street

The service guy was a friendly dude who arrived in a minivan. When he stepped out, I noticed he was missing some of his front teeth.

“Awww kay, ley me paww ze ood herr.”

“Uh, ok.”

A few minutes later my precious baby roared to life once again.

“Awwwkay! Yor awww goods zuu go.”

I thanked him, jumped in and floored it. I wanted to get home, crawl into bed, and get away from this weary life. To sleep and dream, and perhaps never wake up again.

There are some women who are so far out of my league that if my league exploded, they wouldn’t hear the sounds for another three days. (Hat tip to the TV movie, The Librarian). Fortunately, the sort I’m referring to here are bright, elegant and morally upright girls who are simply a part of a culture I can’t relate to.

Then there’s that other sort, the sordid crack whore types who almost take perverse pride in the fact that they’re crack whores. They demonstrate all the moral aptitude of a brain damaged alley cat, and their pasttime consists mostly of getting drunk, fooling around, and then getting drunk again. You know the type I’m referring to here. They almost always have Myspace websites exhibiting lewd and crude photos of themselves, (usually holding ironically enough, a glass of beer or wine), and which predictably contain quite a long list of comments from horny men looking for booty.

I had this vain hope that law school might weed out the most putrid of these sewage inhabiting bimbos, but alas it was too much to ask for. Case in point, here’s an excerpt of an email sent to an ex-law student’s blog, highlighting one particular floozy’s adventures in law school:

…the three of us nearly all got kicked out of law school for laughing in court while a rather unfortunate prostitute was arraigned. We had to write apologies to the dean and the judge, seriously. In the quagmire, I found a boyfriend… who, incidentally, had a wife. This boyfriend more or less saved my academic @$$ by teaching me Civil Procedure – to a solid C-level…

This former bartender turned attorney quite matter of factly conferred upon her readers the breathtakingly and morally bankrupt details of her law school experience, seemingly oblivious to what a complete tramp from hell she was making herself out to be. I’m inclined to think the whole thing was really made up, but sadly, I know better.

From blogs written by women who proudly declare themselves “Law Bitches” to the “supposedly” female blogger billing herself as the Law School Virgin (complete with sordid postings indicating a perpetually drunk little girl who enjoys only sporadic moments of sobriety), it’s no wonder why I’ve seem to have lost a measure of faith in the virtues of the opposite gender.

To think, these people will someday become lawyers. Good God.