Despite what you may have heard, studying for the bar exam is not something fun, exciting, or in any way sexually arousing. Last night was my last night of drinking before the exam (which is about 2 weeks away), except of course for the Def Leppard/Journey concert I'm wisely attending July 19, less than a week before the exam. It should be an interesting little experiment to see whether my borderline alcoholism will allow such scant reliance on the nectar of the gods, or, instead, whether my body will reject the absence of toxins.
Currently I'm outlining Commercial Paper, a sexy subject that I never encountered in nearly 3 years of practice in Ohio, and I assume I'll never encounter in what I hope will be at least four months of practice in Illinois. After said outlining, I will proceed to write answers to various Commercial Paper essay questions from previous exams, until the point of exhaustion. Sometime later -- after a period of extensive crying, incoherent screaming, and violently punching myself in the head and neck -- I will go to bed sober, a concept with which I'm relatively unfamiliar on weekends, and frankly, it's something I hope to never again experience after July 26.
Anyway, I should get back to studying, while at the same time wishing I was in a locale in which toucans were native and abundant, being fed grapes by a nubile 13-year-old, er, I mean 18-year-old, boy, er, I mean girl, er, I mean my wife. Man, I need a drink.
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