Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Attorney-Client Relationship

For all of you recent law school grads who still don't have employment lined up for after the bar exam, don't worry! Clients will seek you out and offer to hire you, even if you don't advertise, work for a firm, or even practice law!

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From:Veronica Lui Fung
International Trades Department
Electrical Marine, Phuket, Thailand
Phuket Boat Lagoon, 20/10 Moo 2, Thepkasattri Road, Koh Kaew, Muang, Phuket
83200, Thailand.

Attention: Counsel

We the management of Electrical Marine, Phuket, Thailand, require your legal representation for our North American Customers.

We are of the opinion that the ability to consolidate payments from North America will eradicate delays due to inter-continental monetary transaction between Asia and North America.

We understand that a proper Attorney Client Retainer will provide the necessary authorization and we are most inclined to commence talks as soon as possible.

Your consideration of our request is highly anticipated and we look forward to your prompt response request.

Sincerely,

Veronica Lui Fung

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Tuesday, May 08, 2007

This Has Been a Good Morning For Blog Reading

Forget the post (not that there's anything wrong with it) and scroll down to the fourth comment. Heh. Made me laugh out loud.

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Monday, March 26, 2007

Wonder How Much THAT Lot Went For

We received a thank you from the public interest society for our donation to the recent auction. It reads, in part:

"Dear Ash and Katze,

[Our auction was a great success.*] We could not have done it without your donation of a martini sex, a cappucino set, and a cookie basket, and we hope that you will continue to support our efforts in the years to come."

Oopsie! Sometimes even spellcheck can't save your butt.

*I paraphrased that part.

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Thursday, April 06, 2006

Honesty Is The Best Policy

We're holding officer elections today, and each candidate was expected to give a speech to the membership body. The candidate for treasurer was running unopposed. During his speech, he said:

"I like money, I'm good at working with money. Plus, well, you don't get much of a choice, so basically you're stuck with me."

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Friday, February 24, 2006

It's a Wrap

The final public interest society fundraising auction is over, except for the accounting and tracking down the people who didn't pay for their items during the auction. I can't even begin to guess how well it went.

There were several major disappointments for me, though. The biggest one was the fact that many of our members disappeared early in the evening. I spent ages trying to find people to do little jobs in vain. I should have been able to hand a wheel of raffle tickets to a 1L and have them run around the room selling them, but instead I found myself batting my eyelashes at drunk 2Ls. I was also disappointed that there weren't more donations to the Professor Feedback Memorial Grant Fund. And finally, I was disappointed in the fact that most of the people who signed up to clean just... disappeared (this is a theme for the night apparently). However, I should give a big shoutout to Eep, who stayed and helped clean up even though he wasn't in the group. He tried to play it off as "waiting to get a ride", but he could just as well have sat around while he waited, so I think it's more "Eep's a heckuva good person". (Sorry to blow your carefully crafted cover.)

In the past, I've left the auction exhausted but happy. Last night, I just felt let down and disillusioned by my classmates. Completely self absorbed and selfish is how they came across to me last night. 3Ls about to graduate and start big firm jobs with six figure salaries couldn't find it in their hearts and wallets to throw a few dollars in the jar for the Professor White Memorial Grant, despite having had the man for at least two semesters' worth of classes. I don't know why I thought any of them could come out of their self-absorbed shells for any reason. No wonder lawyer jokes are so popular.

Maybe I'll feel better after I get enough sleep.

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Tuesday, January 17, 2006

May It Please the Court

I spent most of my time at the university this weekend rather than lazing around my apartment and sleeping until noon. No, I haven’t suddenly decided to start studying like a real law student. I was volunteering as a judge for a high school Mock Trial tournament.

I have fond memories of my own stint on my high school Mock Trial team. I was nearly the only student who didn’t have dreams of going to law school—and ironically, I believe I’m almost the only one who actually ended up going to law school. I was the master of cross examination and literally made at least one witness cry on the stand in each of our trials. Our team coach, who was a prosecutor in my hometown, once expressed the fervent hope that should I ever go to law school, that I not join the local public defender’s office. I also found it great fun to find ways to get the other side’s key testimony excluded.

Isn’t it strange that I have no desire whatsoever to go into litigation of any kind?

Anyway, the view from the other side of the bench is quite different. The kids are so adorable in their little suits, I just want to scream. And then they stand up and say things like “Objection! This is hearsay!” “Your honor, this testimony is not being offered to prove the truth of the matter at hand.” and I just want to pinch their little cheeks. My favorite moment was when one attorney began his opening statement by smiling at the bench and saying “Good afternoon, ladies”. A hysterical mental image of what would happen if you addressed a judge in the real world as “lady” kept me entertained for several minutes.

Anyone who wants to test their knowledge of hearsay exceptions should volunteer as a judge for these things. Their materials intentionally build in numerous examples of testimony, the admissibility of which is dubious. Prior bad act? Statements made by the murder victim to a third party? Excited utterance? Got ‘em all.

At the end of each round, the judges offered comments to the teams. In one round, you could tell that one team was feeling pretty down because they’d lost several important skirmishes over admissibility of their testimony. The problem was that their questions were phrased in a way that left the answers open to attack on grounds of relevance and hearsay. The problem was compounded by the fact that they didn’t know the Rules of Evidence well enough to argue the case for admitting the testimony. When it came time for comment, they were unable to hide the naked expressions of pleased surprise when I had high praise for their performance. The fatal flaw in their line of questioning didn’t change the fact that their opening and closing statements were not only well structured but moving, and their witnesses were very well prepared and held their own on cross examination. They took copious notes when I talked to them about how they could work to improve their questions and move to protect them from attack, and left the room looking much, much more pleased with their performance. I bet the one attorney on that team was even more surprised to learn that I’d chosen her as the Outstanding Attorney in that round.

I wonder how many of the kids we saw today harbor dreams of a career in the courtroom? How many of them will end up in law school? How many of them will choose an area of law that will actually offer them the chance to enter the courtroom on a regular basis?

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Friday, December 16, 2005

Appropriate

Having just finished her French exam, War produced three small bottles of champagne and a bottle of Californian Syrah. Together with Anoush we've already demolished the champagne and are most of the way through the Syrah. Have I mentioned that we're sitting in the Student Lounge? The sight of the open bottles seems to have amused the 3Ls and frightened the 1Ls in the room, and I have to tell you, this is the most fun I've had in weeks. Yes, my life is sad. War, would you like to add something?

War: Having had the worst exam schedule known to man, frustrating my attempts to transfer any of my exams, I am fleeing the country. Enough said.

Like hell! You are done with exams, I have three more! And I've already taken four! We should totally go get some more potato chips. And you should take me with you when you flee the country.

Hey, look: it's the Dirty Birdie!

DB: For the record, I am not a dirty bird . Nor naughty doctor. -.-


Don't you have anything more... insightful to say, on this the day that you finish the first semester of your last year of law school?

DB: I haven't accomplished anything for this year. And I dont' even know what you guys were talking about before i got here. hm.. My exams sucked, My love life -non-existing,what else? Therefore, i got nothing insightful to talk about.
And stop flirting with Spring Fling - War. You are even smiling at him. Surprising.

Yeah, she should totally just, you know, grab him and like, do something drastic. Like take Wellington's advice. I bet he wouldn't be adverse to that.

War: Du weisst ja schoen, dass ich dich liebe. Aber dass hilft mich nicht. Auf jeden fall, ich habe viel zu viel spass in diesem moment....

Aber du koenntest doch viel mehr Spass haben, wenn du mit Spring Fling zusammen waerst...

And now DB is all irritated because that was in German and she can only say "Ich liebe dich". But that's too bad because frankly, the wine hit my head about ten minutes ago.

I want to go to H&M and buy things I don't have the money for. And plus, I don't have the time

DB: And war is constipated and flirting with #2
HMMM


Haha, that's totally true. But he's too nerdy even for me. And you know how much I like my nerdy boys.

War: well, you are more than welcome to the shoulder-less type. I have other priorities...

Well, apparently not, or we wouldn't be talking about your lack of action in regards to Spring Fling, duh.

War: Because it's not like I have other thing, such as finals, to worry about. Spring Fling, aka Eye Candy, will just have to await my return...

You know, you might just find that the Window of Opportunity has closed if you procrastinate. Maybe you should go find him RIGHT NOW before it's too late! And you are TOTALLY cut off, since you can't even spell "fling" right!

War: So I can't spell...it isn't like English is my first language. In any case, even if my window of opp is closed, it doens't matter, because I already said that he is more my eye candy than my spring fling.

What freaking ever. "English isn't my first language..." bla bla bla.

DB: You cannot steal my only defense, War!

Yeah, really, plus which, you should have brought more wine. That bottle didn't last nearly long enough.

We totally got all this stuff free from the vending machine, because it kept saying "Make Another Selection" and I did, but it only gave it to me free if it was from the same Fach and so now we've all these Funyuns and I don't even LIKE Funyuns. And no, I don't know what the English word for FACH is. So there.

Ich bin jetzt voll betrunken. Zu viel getrunken. Aber i mog ja a bisserl mehr haben.

Ich schaffe es zum Restaurant nicht.

War: Ich auch nicht...

Helmet Head totally hates us. You know that, right? She should totally share pizza with us. Or else tell us to fuck off. Either one is fine, so long as she does it to our faces.

Scheisse. Keine Funyuns mehr. Und der Wein ist auch alle.

War: Stimmt's ja aber nicht...es gibt doch mehr funyuns...aber auf jeden fall du bist ja aber betrunker..find ich es doch lustig, weil ich es niemals vorher gesehen habe...geh mal pinkeln...

Ja, kann ich leider im Moment nicht. Da ich Angst habe, aufzustehen. Gehen wir mal zusammen.

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Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Slice of 3L Life

The clock on the toolbar of my laptop said 2:56 PM. I looked across the table at War and whispered “It’s drinking time.” With no further ado, we packed our bags and walked swiftly out of the library. In the elevator, we bumped into a fellow student and her friend, speaking Albanian to each other. We all greeted each other, then War and I went back to our conversation in German. At the next floor, a member of the staff got on, looked from one pair of people speaking a language other than English to the other pair of people speaking yet another language other than English, and got off at the next floor after that.

After grabbing my coat and wallet, we sped off to the bar directly across from the law school, which was almost empty at this time of day. The waitress who works this shift is at least my mother’s age and a little addled. She was confused by our appearance at the door, confused by our request for a table in the non-smoking section, confused by the fact that we ignored the lunch menus she gave us. We ordered two White Russians, and I asked for separate checks, knowing that I wasn’t carrying enough cash to pay for drinks and not wanting to be the annoying customers who ask for separate checks at the end when you may or may not be able to recall who ordered what. The gears of her mental clutch ground sharply and she launched into a lecture about how they don’t usually do separate checks when it’s busy, and we goggled at her for a moment, cueing her to segue into the extended remix of “but I can do it for you now, since it’s not busy”. As the chorus came around on the guitar again, I interrupted to point out that it says right on their menu that they don’t do separate checks for parties of six or more, but that there were only two of us, which didn’t have the desired effect of stopping the encore of “The Separate Checks Blues”, but instead introduced the Dance Mix 05 remix of “it messes up the cook times and people’s food comes out at different times” (which, BTW, is patently false: this place uses the exact same system as the place I waitressed at in college and all you have to do is send the food order to the kitchen before you separate the checks. It takes about 30 seconds and 5 or 6 brain cells to do.), so we assured her that this wasn’t going to be a problem for us, since we were only having drinks, and she finally wandered off to the bar to get our White Russians.

Meanwhile, the couple from the elevator came in and joined us, which probably made the waitress cry a little from the confusion of having her section double. She took their drink order without giving them any sort of guff, and we launched into a lovely conversation that wandered from language to language. An hour later, it was time for our final class with Professor Strap. We probably should have hit on this technique at the beginning of the semester: with the warm glow of White Russians surrounding us, class was actually bearable (though still completely useless as far as actual knowledge goes). Professor Strap stuck to lecture, studiously avoiding looking to our side of the room, thus preventing us from taking over class with discussion or questions about actual issues or anything more in depth than a commercial outline. He was out of luck when it came time to discuss the exam, though, because War had prepared a list of questions about the material. He was not well-pleased when the answers to those questions required him to have some actual working knowledge of immigration law and finally resorted to “Well, I’ll talk to you about that after class” (which, BTW, he did not—he was busy giving legal advice to his favorite student, Olga) and “But you don’t have to worry about that, it won’t be on the exam” (because, of course, the only reason anyone would want the answer to a question is to be able to regurgitate it on the exam).

And by then, it was cold and dark outside. I boarded a bus burdened with bags of commercial outlines, picked up at the bookstore earlier that day, heading for home and a nice spot of tea before delving back into the mysteries of Estates and Trusts.

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Thursday, October 27, 2005

Crowning Achievement

It’s Homecoming season here at Our University, and the kids who never left high school behind are vying for the right to be crowned Homecoming King and Queen. My undergraduate institution was no stranger to the Homecoming Royalty tradition, but here they take it to a whole new level. Any part of the campus traveled by undergrads is plastered with photocopied fliers, exhorting us to vote for one candidate over another, many of them employing phrases that the author obviously thought were catchy and clever, though in reality they are obnoxious and often poorly rhymed. I am comforted by the fact that I’ve been trying to think of an example for the past few minutes, but am drawing a complete blank; I’d feared I’d still be chanting some overly made-up Tri-Delt’s election slogan in my chair at the nursing home.

Merely plastering the walls with hundreds, no, THOUSANDS of posters in blatant disregard for fire code and campus rules governing the posting of notices is not sufficient if you truly desire to wear the Homecoming crown. No, indeed. One must also employ strategy learned from The Art of War, or at least the latest episodes of The OC. These include covering your opponent’s flyers with your own and ripping your opponent’s flyers down. I was torn between relief and dismay to find that there was no vandalism of flyers; it might have been amusing to see how the frat boy devotees of Former Highschool Cheerleader 1 would change the flyers for Former Highschool Cheerleader 2, if only in the same way that watching Dog the Bounty Hunter is amusing.

One particular young man and his friends employed a particularly interesting technique that I witnessed on my way to the bus. There is a pedestrian bridge connecting two buildings separated by a busy street. It’s lined with windows and lighted by powerful spotlights. These upstanding citizens had ripped down their opponents’ posters and were in the process of using them to spell out the young man’s name on the windows facing traffic. There was a certain amount of deviant intelligence in that move.

The amount of money that these kids are spending on their campaigns is astounding. In addition to the astronomical bills they must be running up at Kinko’s, not just for the initial 1,000 copies, but for the ongoing expense of replacing the ones that get ripped down by opponents, plus the ones that get removed by the cleaning crews because they were posted in violation of fire code and/or the rules governing the posting of notices. Then they spend the last day before the election standing in the area in front of the largest dorms. This is a particularly high-traffic area not just because of the people coming and going from the dorms, but also because there is no way to get from a very large bus stop to the buildings on the same side of the campus as Our Law School without walking across this area or going all the way around the block. Trying to get from the bus to the building on these days is like trying to play one of the higher levels of Super Mario Brothers. You dodge one overgelled frat boy trying to hand you another copy of his flyer and another pops up. They’re all trying to get you to promise to vote for them and handing out candy with little sayings attached to them. A few of them get a little abusive if you dare to ignore them, screaming after you. I hate running this gauntlet and wish the university would rein the little buggers in.

And after all that, I have never yet heard the outcome of these elections. While I might normally be happy about an event that seemingly celebrates the concept that the glory is in the race, not in the winning, it seems kind of anti-climactic in this case. I wonder if the victors felt the same way?

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Thursday, September 29, 2005

Law Students on the Lam

The stress of seventeen credit hours a piece was finally getting to us in a big way. After a major outburst that scared small children and 1Ls, War, Famine, and I staged an impromptu Fall Break yesterday, skipping our respective afternoon classes to hang out in the sunshine and go see a movie. It was a very good idea.

We saw The Corpse Bride in a nearly empty early afternoon theater. For once, the theater was not set at sub-Arctic temperatures, there were no obnoxious children, no loud teenagers. The movie was very sweet in a wry sort of way. The plot is fairly pedestrian: boy and girl are the subject of an arranged marriage neither particularly wants, then they meet and fall in love at first sight, but due to some otherworldly influence get separated and we watch them try to make their ways back to each other. But it gets the delicious Tim Burton treatment of luscious atmosphere and off-kilter humor that’s a mix of the subtle and the slapstick. Think Edward Scissorhands, where the whole neighborhood is a parody of itself. I wouldn’t say that it was a great movie or run out and tell people “Oh, you have to see this movie!”, but it was worth paying to see in the theater.

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Saturday, September 17, 2005

What Do You Get When Type A People Get Together?

Only among a group of law students could a game of Duck, Duck, Goose turn into a competitive full contact sport. We should start a league or something. I would also like to point out that this is the first time in my adult life that I came home from a party with grass stains on my clothes.

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Thursday, December 16, 2004

What the?

This is exactly the reaction I had when I received the exam for Professor Marian's class. I seriously thought that my brain was going to leak out of my ears. The basic gist of the exam was "So...tell me about the EU". But it was couched in terms like "transformational effects of supranational legal institutions". I hate that kind of pseudointellectual babble.

I basically vomited the entirety of the contents of my outline onto the page. It was nonsense, but really, so was her exam.

And so all that's left is International Law and Svensk. I'm taking a short breather today to gather what's left of my wits. Tomorrow, I'll spend the morning trying to make the apartment semi-habitable before Finbar arrives. Then I will go to school and pick up the take-home exam for Comrade Verne's class-- which word on the street says is manageable and not too stressing. Tomorrow evening, I will probably get together with War, Death, and the Naughty Nurse for a little Christmas happiness. Then I will spend Saturday swearing and calling the wrath of angels down on Comrade Verne's fuzzy little pinhead. Sunday night I will probably be repeating that process. Somewhere in between, I will be writing an essay entitled "Min bästa julminne" as my Svensk take home exam. All of it must be turned in by 9 am Monday morning.

By 10:00, I plan to be most of the way to intoxicated. We'll be having a celebratory mimosa bash at LaPresidente's place. I. Can't. Wait.

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Monday, October 11, 2004

All Rise

It’s obviously been a busy, busy week, when I haven’t had time to post to the blog. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, as long as you’re doing things that matter. But it seems like this week has been nothing but a series of small annoyances that you can’t ignore. Taking care of these things doesn’t give you any sense of accomplishment. You can’t even see any difference in your surroundings like you do if you clean out your closet or organize your CD collection or whatever. So I spent the last week doing things like filling out yet another copy of my financial aid paperwork (which the financial aid office can’t seem to keep in its files for more than 60 seconds straight), mending some items for Finbar, cleaning out a box of papers, etc, etc.

The one thing I did that was acutally really cool was that I was the bailiff in the first round of mock court eliminations. I originally signed up just for a chance to do something extracurricular and to get a peek at what the mock court is like. I was actually kind of dreading it by the time Wednesday rolled around. It involved coming back in to school in the evening (which is never a good thing) and was scheduled to last three hours (which seemed like a pretty long time to listen to anything at law school). But I am nothing if not a woman of my word, so I dragged myself into school at 5:30 pm.

The meeting time for the students involved was 6 pm. At 5:30, the lounge was filled with students wearing suits and ties who were running over notes and tweaking lines of questioning. Occasionally one student-attorney would run up to another student-witness and make a breathless declaration like “They’re going to ask you about the exam you performed at the hospital and whether a knee could pop out later. Don’t speculate! Just tell them that the knee presented at normal!”. At 6 pm, there was a mass exodus to the first floor meeting point, where the same suited and tied students milled around with nervous bravado, acting as though they go to court every single day and this is nothing, nothing to be nervous about for them.

A few local attorneys, presumably alums of Our Law School, had volunteered to act as judges for the competetion. The other bailiff and I sat in a small side room with them, waiting for the last minute preparations to be finished. Two of the judges were quite young, possibly even younger than I. I promptly nicknamed them Judge Red (‘cause he has red hair) and Judge Hottie (‘cause, well...). The third judge looked like he might have been in his late forties. He didn’t really interact with the other judges or with us, so I didn’t get the chance to assign him a cute nickname. There was much laughing and joking about the cost of attendance at Our Law School, which has skyrocketed in the last few years— coincidentally at the same time as the school made the big push and broke into the first tier—and the strange spending priorities evidenced by the renovations to the library and the addition of several flat screen TVs (which are used to display a daily calendar of event and the current weather condition and are another rant altogether) to the public areas of the school, while the elevators are falling apart and the wiring doesn’t allow you to turn on two microwave ovens at once in the kitchen area.

Anyway, Judge Red and Judge Hottie seemed like nice guys—very funny and not at all arrogant (unlike many other young attorneys who are still busy trying to establish their place in the pack). My theory is that this is because they both work for very, very small firms where they don’t have to scrabble to be noticed and where they have been given heavy responsibilities from Day One. Judge Hottie was especially attentive to me—in fact, it might be said that he was flirting with me quite heavily. Scoring sheets were handed out to the judges, timing sheets and time cards were handed out to the bailiffs, and the basic rules of procedure were explained to us. Judge Red asked Judge Oldie (see, I just came up with a nickname for him; I just needed a chance to interact with him – or in this case, his memory—to come up with one) if he had any tips for judging a competetion. Judge Oldie promptly replied, “Overrule everything”. Nervous laughter from all involved. Judge Oldie continued, “Overrule every objection just on principle. Give the opposing counsel the chance to respond and explain why it should be admitted. Then overrule it anyway, unless the issue is really obvious. That will give them the most practice at objecting, responding to objections, and contending with loss of evidence or admission of unfavorable evidence.” He chuckled. “I once had a student send a “Notice of Appeal” to my office the next morning.”

That’s beautiful. Can you imagine having the sack to do that? Personally, I would offer that student a job on the spot. Well, that might be a little overboard. But it should be rewarded somehow!

The organizer came back to the room and assigned one judge to each room. Then she asked if I had a preference about which room to bailiff in. Judge Hottie piped up, “Oh, are you going to bailiff with me?” Do you see my eyes rolling back in my head? The organizer says, “Sure, why not? You two go to Room 1. Good luck!”

Room 1 was right outside the “Judges Chambers”. Judge Hottie wanted to know how the room was set up and where he was supposed to sit. The he wanted to know how I thought he should run things. Then he wanted to know if he needed to hear pre-trial motions. Good Lord, man! It’s the first round! Relax! Is there a spot on the sheet for pre-trial motions? No? Then you don’t need to hear them! Or go ahead, if you like, but they won’t make any difference. It wouldn’t make any sense to even have this competition if you could just prevail on a motion for summary judgment, now would it?

I walked in to the room and was really quite relieved to see that none of the students involved were people that I know personally. I know I wouldn’t want to have my first presentation be in front of someone I know, especially someone who I’m not close friends with. I’m sure others would feel the same way. I explained the time limits and the rules for re-direct and answered a few questions about the procedure for the evening. Then I walked up the aisle to the place we’d designated as the bailiff’s seat during our hallway conversation and began my big bailiff’s speech:

“All rise.” And they did, which made me want to giggle for some reason. “Court is now in session in the county of Allegheny, the honorable Judge...” uh, what the heck is Judge Hottie’s name? “The honorable Judge Hottie presiding” probably wouldn’t go over too well. Oh jeez, you’d think I would have had the brains to introduce myself at some point. Where are my manners? And if I couldn’t be polite, I should have at least had the brains to ask his name for this exact purpose!!

“Dan Stevenson" Judge Hottie to the rescue! I finished my speech, Judge Hottie ordered us to be seated and asked if there were any pre-trial motions. Someone made a motion to exclude some testimony or something like that, Judge Hottie overruled it, and opening arguments began.

There were four student attorneys involved, two on each side. On the Plaintiff's side were two women I didn't recognize at all. On the Defendant's side were a man I vaguely recognized and a woman who I knew by sight mostly because she is one of the older non-traditional students. It was she who presented the defense to the objection and although she was noticably nervous, I was really impressed with her argument. As the examination and cross-examination of the witnesses began, I was really floored by the quality of the presentations.

It was kind of odd, seeing my classmates suddenly mutate into attorneys. I mean, you're kind of used to seeing people dressed in suits and ties because of OCI. It kind of doesn't even register after a while. But it was different altogether watching them examine witnesses, lay out arguments, contest evidence, and so on.

I really enjoyed myself in the end. My job kept me just busy enough to not drift off during hte boring parts of the night, but the proceedings were actually far more interesting than I expected. It was almost like a sporting event-- watching the volleys, holding your breath to see if someone drops the ball... At one point, the Plaintiff objected to a certain witness's testimony on the grounds that it was hearsay, which happens to be the subject we've spent the entire semester up to now discussing in Evidence class. And I, from my perspective outside the heat of the moment, immediately knew how the Defendant needed to phrase his defense of the testimony to get the objection overruled. But he wasn't hitting on it. In fact, he wan't anywhere near it. And I soooo wanted to jump up and be like "The testimony isn't being offered to prove the truth of the matter asserted! And it's a statement against interest anyway!" This was actually one of those clear-cut cases where Judge Hottie could have overruled the objection with reason (as opposed to just following Judge Oldie's advice), but the attorney just wouldn't give him a reason to. The judge even started asking him very pointed questions trying to nudge him in the right direction, but the poor guy just wasn't getting it. Judge Hottie finally had to sustain the objection.

But that was the only really big mistake I saw. For the most part, everyone was great and very professional. The only breach of that was one of the plaintiff's attorneys kept playing with her hair and couldn't stop giggling-- probably nerves. It was really cool.

Post trial, Judge Hottie kept the flirting going right up until the moment when Finbar showed up to pick me up. All of the participants had left, so it was just me and Judge Hottie. I was waiting for him to finish filling out the scoring sheets, since it was my responsibility to collect the sheets and turn them in. Finbar came in and sat with me at the back of the room. Judge Hottie's scowl got deeper and deeper. When he finally finshed the scoring sheets, he couldn't even be bothered to shake my hand (rude!) and rushed out of the room as fast as his little legs would carry him.

I had a lot of fun anyway and I volunteered to bailiff in the next round as well. Next year I might even go out for the team myself. I would really like to go up to each of the participants and tell them how great I thought they were, but I wasn't sure that it was appropriate at that point. Hopefully I'll get a chance to see them in the next couple of days and tell them.

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