BarBri Recap: The Barren Cow, Mixed-up Chickens, Bad Yogurt, and the Guy Who Stole My Seat

7 hours of Contracts is 6 hours and 55 minutes too much. Really, it challenged my attention span, which is flea-like to begin with. The picture in this post is of David Epstein, who was today's lecturer and is typically a professor at SMU. He has a good sense of humor, but well, I don't think I learned much. Something about a barren cow and mutual mistake, some chickens, and coffee beans that ended up having rat poo in them. Don't ask.

While I didn't learn much to help for the bar, I did learn some other important life lessons, though:

No. 1: I learned that WaWa coffee is a very important part of my life. There was a bad accident on Lincoln Drive this morning, and it took more than twice as long to get to BarBri this morning, about an hour. To make it on time to class, we would have had to forgo the java. The coffee's not even that good-- I mean, it's Wawa -- but well, the thought of no piping-hot-energy-in-a-cup just about made me want to cry. So we were late.

No. 2: Yogurt is not always your friend. I was so proud of myself, having some raspberry yogurt for breakfast -- nutritious and delicious, I thought, when I pulled it out an hour into the lecture. First, I averted near disaster when the lid almost slid off my little board-that-serves-as-a-desk and into my lap. And then, a little later I realized how very ill I felt. Vomitous. Vomoli. Nauseaous. Digestively compromised. You get the idea. Anyway, nothing like sitting 10 rows up in the most cheaply constructed stadium seats money can buy, and trying to figure out how to walk down them and out of the auditorium without a) tripping or b) losing my cookies, er, yogurt.

At the risk of offering up too much information, I'll let you know that I averted the horror of barfing in the public stalls with a brisk walk to CVS and a nice big dose of Pepto Bismol. Bad yogurt or lactose intolerant? You decide.

No. 3: Be suspicious of people who wear big numbers on the front of their shirts. I have been Row J, Seat 1 since the first week of BarBri. I like the aisle. I feel at home there, surrounded by my BarBri buddies who laugh at my jokes and offer me Twizzlers. It's like a second home. And I think most people are all settled in: Amber and Park behind me, Lisa on my left, Joan and Kristen in front of me, Christina and Bob and Ryan across the aisle. Everyone's got their seats. Except No. 45. He stole my seat today. Leaving me in Row H, Seat 3. I was not happy. I felt squished, uncomfortable, like a fish out of water.

The only solace that came from the whole matter is that my seatmates were properly outraged by the incident. Amber even kicked his seat a couple of times for me. If he comes back tomorrow, I'm putting a horse's head on his seat. It'll be war.