On Twins

So it appears I have not blogged for quite some time. The reason is that life has accelerated  up to warp speed. (Star Trek reference that quick? Yeah. Deal with it). I have been practicing law, raising my beautiful daughter who is now approaching 2 years old and oh yeah, we had twins boys. I can't describe to you the feeling when I first saw the circle on the sonogram stating, "Baby A, and Baby B." (Something between falling from an extreme height and a first kiss).

However, other people's reaction to the news that we have twins is both diverse and amusing. It ranges from veiled horror to pure elation. The horror seems to come from people trying to imagine trying to manage two infants at one time. Having one baby who isn't sleeping and spitting up on you and pooping on you is terrifying enough. One attorney that I see frequently on the elevator just laughs and shakes his head a lot at me. Sometimes he mutters, "poor bastard." To which I think, "If I wasn't so tired my IQ is literally 20 points lower I would reply with something clever... heh... It'd be so damn clever... YEAH, then you would think I was NOT a poor bastard." But alas I am in a sleep deprived haze and only stare back stupidly. "Kids hard... Two kids harder." These are my more profound moments.

But, double your pleasure double your fun I always say. (I've never said that). Plus as an added bonus my kids can now always fall back on cheesy entertainment gags involving twins for their future careers, which I think is just wonderful. OR they could take over the law firm and have all kinds court room antics involving twin-dome. I smell a reality hit! Double Justice - "Is Justice Blind or did that guy already enter his appearance before the court." OOHHH or they could follow in their grandpa's footsteps, and uncles, and two cousins and become medical doctors. "DOCTOR THEY ARE GOING TO DIE UNLESS YOU PERFORM DOUBLE SURGERY AND YOU CAN'T BE TWO PLACES AT ONCE!!!" Baby A, now a handsome 6'4'' man states cooly, "yes, I can. PAGE BABY B!" (FYI they do have names, Joshua and Caleb, but I prefer to still think of them as Baby A and Baby B).

At any rate those are the sorts of things that are going through my head. Imagining my kids yet unknown lives in double mint gum commercials or in improbable but lucrative TV gigs. (Hopefully, they can grow beards better than I can. That would seal the deal. Also I would hate them for it. Stupid beardless face.)

For now they sit, and gurgle and cry and eat and cry and sleep and cry and not sleep. Maddie (My daughter) run's around in circles yelling, "GO! GO! GO! GO!" And I sit dumbfounded at it all. I have never been happier. Seriously.

(Oh and here's a link to my firm's website, because... self promotion and stuff):  TOPEKA ATTORNEY

Lawn Mower Mundundities

First, I would like to address the title of my post, and only to the extent that "mundundities" is my own fecundity. I meant it as a derivative of  "mundane." What's the point of English if you can't make up words. (How ridiculous is it to say whats the point of English if you can't make up words?! I mean if we made up all of our words then there wouldn't actually be a point to English. So you know what? I apologize for making up the word Mundundities. But I don't apologize so much as to change it.)

Second, I would like to address the word fecundity. Hello, fecundity. (I shouldn't think that's funny, I know.)

Third, I would like to write a short story about my lawn mower struggles. It is as follows:

Liz and I have recently purchased a home. We purchased it in late October so there was no need to immediately buy a lawn mower because the grass had stopped growing. SO, this spring the grass started growing again, as is its way. But I was unprepared. I had no mower! (Cue music that is supposed to add suspense, indicating that the primary conflict has arisen.) (I told you it was mundane. Or at least it was implied in the title.)

I could have done what a normal person would do and go to a local hardware store to purchase a lawn mower, but I had gotten it my head that I could buy one second hand from a pawn shop. After many visits to local pawn shops, I had finally found one at a good price which would serve my purposes. The owner said he wanted to change out the air filter but if I would come back tomorrow I could buy it. So that's what I did. But the next day it had been sold.....

What a jerk who does that? (sigh) They told me to go down the street to another pawn shop. This was on my lunch break mind you, so I was in a nice suit. It is a navy suit which I had expertly paired with a sort of brownish lavender shirt with a white and navy tie. I don't mean to brag but I looked good. Court-ready even. I would blow away a jury with my suave demeanor. Yes, in a court room I would be at home, but as it happened I was very self-conscious of pawn shopping in a suit. (I was also self conscious of  the fashion forward shirt, if I'm honest). So unhappily I went to a second pawn shop. They had several mowers to choose from. A short gray haired man showed me out to the back in order to make an easy sale.

 We turned each of them on, one by one.

I pretended to inspect each carefully. Hoping to evoke a sense that I might know what to look for in a second-hand lawn mower so as to get a better deal. I made an offer 20 bucks below asking price. My brownish lavender shirt and navy suit betrayed me. The short gray haired man staired blankly for a moment and then repeated the asking price of $90. I capitulated grudgingly.

So there I was, in my nice suit in a parking lot in a somewhat shady part of town, the proud owner of a shiny second hand mower. (Well it was better described as rusty than shiny.)  Then there was the matter of transporting the mower back to my home.

Hmm.

 I drive a small 2008 Sentra. It's pretty sweet. I don't wanna brag but, yeah, it's a compact.

Trunk?

Well, not quite. It kind of hung out the back and I didn't have any bungie chords. SO after getting my suit quite dirty I managed to put it in my back seat. I think the pawn shop employees thought it was pretty funny, but they did not offer to help. Jerks.

Long story short. The mower crapped out half way through my lawn resulting in, but not limited to, the following itemized events:

1. Feeble attempts to fix it.

2. Embarrassing neighbor interactions in which they mowed my lawn in my absence.

3. Uncontrollable weeping.

4. A return to the pawn shop.

5. A brief argument as to whether they would give me my money back that I won (Lawyered).

6. And a new mower purchased from Wal-Mart. (sigh).

TOPEKA ATTORNEY

On Losing Ones Youth; Or, On the realization I might be an enabler

My older brother has recently moved to North Dakota for work. Brrrrr. Sounds pretty bad, but not as bad as when you consider he has a pretty sweet beard and he loves hot coffee. He might have been made for the great white north, eh. (Is North Dakota the great white north? He said he was closer to Canada than Kansas. So I'm going to say, 'yeah it is' feel free to correct me in the comments section. Our little Dorothy (Joey) is not in Kansas anymore).

The reason I mention the "Joe Man" (as he is sometimes called in certain computer game situations, I can only assume this call sign comes from Top Gun, as some kind of play on Ice Man. This is only reinforced by his propensity to say, "You know why I don't like you?! Cause you're dangerous." And then he bites/clicks his teeth right in my face. True Story) (whew another long aside!) (One day I will just write an entire post in parenthesis. Cut out the middle man. Now back to my original sentence, which began way at the beginning of the paragraph....) is that he is integral to my story. 

Before he left, he and I took a trek to Manhattan Kansas, to visit the third brother (if we were the brothers' Karamotsov he would be Alyosha) (*Liturature Reference High Five*). (What's better is the analogy really does work for him if you've read the novel) The third brother is dating a girl that is a few years younger than himself. She is 20 and he is 24. Not totally ridiculous. But, lets call a spade a spade, one must ask, "I wonder if there is a maturity gap there?" But whether it's to Paige's credit or Matt's arrested development (wait is that a thing? or just a tv show?) I really don't think there is. They are good together. However, as Joe and I have recently discovered, the fast paced world of college 20 year olds is behind us. And what's sad is that we came to this realization when doing the most relaxing non-fast-paced of activities:  getting Coffee. 

Now realizing you are too old is traumatic, realizing you're too old while getting coffee... that is something I was just not prepared for. Anyway, Paige joined Alyosha, Joe Man and myself for coffee before we set out for the evening's activities. Great! Paige brought two of her sorority sisters. (At the risk of sounding creepy:) Great! Or so I thought....

 They spoke so fast....

 About so many different people...

AAARRGG! I couldn't keep up! It was like a twitter feed was coming out of their mouths and beating me about the face while periodically interrupting the beat down with bursts of laughter. Yeah. Horrifying. I tried to be entertaining, clever and funny. I don't think it worked. They just kept on with their conversations at break neck speeds.

"YIP YIP YIP YIP!"

"GIGGLE" GIGGLE" "GIGGLE"

"YIP YIP YIP YIP"

That was about all I gathered. I looked over at Joey. His brain hole was experiencing the same kind of whip lash. But the Joe Man was not bested. No. He stood up with his coffee slowly. Walked back over to the barrista counter and ordered something else. He came back and listened quietly. Something was different. He sipped his cup with self satisfaction. He had the solution. I didn't know until later, but he had put a double shot of whiskey in his coffee. An inventive, simple response to the realization you are too old for your present company. But...let us be honest, maybe a little bit of an alcoholic's response as well. 

Now that my brothers and my younger brother's girlfriend won't be speaking to me as I have undoubtedly offended them with this post, maybe I should sit back and sip some Irish coffee. Maybe read a book, complain about some youngsters, while wearing slippers and a sweater vest, and toast to my aging ears and to silence.  

I thought about including below an Irish Drinking song written by Matt (Alyosha) that, I like to think, was written partly about the Joe Man and partly about Matt's truly alcoholic friends, whom I have great love an affection for, despite their tragic flaw. BUT Matt, through indifference or negligence, never sent it to me and, as I wrote this post for November, I thought it was time to post. I can always ad it later.

TOPEKA ATTORNEY

On Enui Oui (<- don't judge me for thinking that's funny)

I am often asked what the difference is between an attorney and a lawyer. My response is usually pretty simple: There is none. But to my internal embarrassment I was never really sure whether that was the case, except that both my parents are also Lawyer/Attorneys, so I do know that the words are often used interchangeably. So for this week's post I decided to not only publicly announce my ignorance but remedy it through researching the origins of these two words. This eases my conscience in two ways, first, of potentially misleading people and of the greater sin of acting like I knew something when I did not. (I'm sure none of you have ever done this and I apologize for my absurdly base behavior)  FYI, by "research" I mean google. And by "Google" I mean "Bing." (But whoever wants to say "I binged it" that is just crazy, grade A, jib-jab, nonsensical, foolishness! Yeah. All of those things.... ) (but I digress, I'm losing focus... and its not because of the exorbitant amount of NyQuil I have been taking to try and get over my cold...ok maybe it is related.... what was I writing about? My editor is gonna kill me)....

 (editor = sober Me)

("sober" meaning off  my NyQuil buzz)

(Yes, I do try to re-read and edit these before I post, and yes, I miss stuff. Thanks for pointing it out.)

(Jerk.)

 (Just kidding earlier, by the way, I don't drink (NyQuil) and blog.)

(Although, it worked for Hemingway and Absinthe, and I may be persuaded to believe that NyQuil is absinthe re-marketed.)

(Just sayin' the stuff messes with you.)

Ahem, the results of my bing/google search on attorney/lawyer etymology (*big word high five*) are as follows:

Webster believes them to be synonyms. *sigh of relief*

straightdope.com (which I believe to be a most reputable source) says that while they are used similarly, in the past they had slightly different connotations, a lawyer is one who can give legal advice and has been trained in the law, while an attorney is one who is legally empowered to represent someone (ei power of attorney rather than power of lawyer...) straightdope also notes that the Brits also have different terms for lawyers. A solicitor for example is one who does mostly office work, like drafting documents and such, while a barrister is one who does trial work. (Silly Brits, making up weird words for stuff. Like they invented the language or something. Next they will be calling french fries chips and fish... er... fish...  the last one is, admittedly, not a great example.)

                       (They are clearly amused by my musings)

WikiAnswers says they are interchangeable terms. Boring. But it does give me a link to a DUI defense attorney. Spot on. Exactly what I needed internet-side-links-that-are-loosely-related-to-subject-matter-of-my-search. (Whoa that was way to many words strung together. I apologize. I'm out of breath just reading it to myself. Do yourself a favor and don't read that last strung together part out loud. You might die. Fair warning.)

WiseGeek.com says the word "attorney" has French origins (eh oui oui Monsieur ...eh...Baguette.... Ennui....  Ben Mooneyham knows what I'm talking about. ) and means an agent or person acting for another. Lawyer is, apparently, from Middle English....

Anyone know the Russian word for Lawyer? More on that later.

Blog post concluded.


TOPEKA ATTORNEY

On Muggles, Fear, and Rail Spikes

Last year before I became the (famous) lawyer I am today, I was a law clerk for the local district court. This is a tale from working at that Court. The names have been changed to protect the innocent (but mostly because I don't remember them). I write with the caveat that I had no special knowledge of this case nor did I ever work on it, I simply observed in the court room as we sometimes were allowed to do.

 One day, I was working especially hard on a most difficult case (see this post is already hilarious), when a Judge came down to the basement of the court house where we law clerks are unceremoniously stuffed. (We had no windows to prove it was still daylight outside. We called it the Justice Cave). He explained that his next case was probably going to be entertaining because the defendant had freaked out on a different judge in a different matter.

Apparently, the defendant, who we will call "Melvin" had used all kinds of colorful language to describe the previous judge and she was... less than pleased. I'm pretty sure he was held in contempt and, in all likelihood, he extended his sentence quite a bit. But, for us who had not seen the sun, this sounded like a fantastic break from our usual day of writing and reading, I mean who wouldn't want to see some crazy guy freak out in a court room? What we witnessed that day was more than I could have hoped for.

The defense attorney was the only one in the court room when four law clerks piled into the back to watch what was surely going to be a really bad day for this poor public defender. He knew what we were up to. He looked clearly defeated. He asked us, "Are you guys here for the show?" We explained we were law clerks and part of our job was that we had to opportunity to watch court every once and a while. He said, "Yeah, alright. Well since your here to learn, the theme for my argument today is 'why I should have gone to medical school.'" He was having a rough week. But little did he know his day was going to get a little better later on, but I'll get to that.

 The prosecutor came in and just started chuckling at the defense attorney, but not in a mean way, it was purely sympathetic chuckling. He asked the defense attorney what he had done when Melvin started on his tirade. The public defender replied, "I just kept my head down and pretended like I was taking notes. It was all I could do." The defendant was then brought into the court room. He was a short man. Clean shaven. Not at all what I was expecting from a man who was on trial for criminal threat, because he pointed a knife at someones throat. OH, yeah, "allegedly" pointed a knife. (whew! can't forget that one).

 The the Judge came in, and we all stood. Even Melvin.

 The Prosecution called his first witness, who was the victim. Again, not what I was expecting. The victim, who we will call Bud, was in his late 50's, had a completely gray mullet down half of his back, a creepy mustache, and was wearing a fine brown t-shirt that stated plainly his identity,

 "Muggle."

 (For those of you who aren't nerds that is a non-magical person from Harry Potter.)

 It came out during questioning that they were both homeless and lived outside this third mans home which occasionally would rent the back room to these gentlemen. The landowner had two daughters. (The source of the gentlemen's conflict. See this is almost Shakespearean). Bud had made an inappropriate comment about one of the daughters figure which he unceremoniously repeated, verbatim, to the courtroom. (which was funny in itself because he said, how do I put this delicately ... an then just blurted out the vulgarity).

Bud continued his harrowing story of how Melvin and he had gotten into an argument about the landlord's daughter. Only to pause every once and a while, stare at the Defendant and declare, "WELL THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED MELVIN! I'M SORRY IT COME TO THIS, BUT THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED."

Then we came to the climax of the story.

 Melvin had drawn his knife and stuck it to Bud's throat, in defense of the daughter's dignity!

The prosecutor asked the crucial question in a criminal threat case, "Now, when Melvin had the knife to your throat, were you scared he might stab you?" (this is important because one of the elements of the crime is that he was in fear or apprehension of bodily harm.) (Also, Objection! Leading! Anyone?)

 Bud sits and thinks. He thinks some more. Something about that phrase bothers him. "Was I scared?" he thinks silently to himself.

 He responds to the court room, saving, in his mind, his dignity, "Nah...I wasn't scared." (Insert Perry Mason Gasp) (Well...if Perry Mason defended the three stooges)

 "You weren't scared?"

 "no, ya see, I had a rail spike...in my back pocket. I knew that if Melvin tried to get me, I could, *motions stabbing to the court room* get 'em time." (SERIOUSLY HE MADE A STABBING MOTION IN THE COURT ROOM. Presumably to demonstrate his considerable nimbleness.)

 That's right Topeka, your harmless homeless neighborhood Bud, carries with him a rail-spike, but fear not, its only for defense against Melvin.

Well now that the prosecutions case was shot to hell, the Defense counsel looked down right chipper!

 On his cross examination we heard all about the rail spike and its defensive capabilities. And how it made Bud impervious to fear. Bud was practically a super hero defending the streets from evil with his rail spike by the end of the cross. (maybe that's just in my mind: Bud, who's secret identity is "spike-man"! The silver-mulleted man with a mustache, keeping our streets safe.)

 Now the prosecution called Melvin to the stand. ..whose meandering testimony featured, his favorite drink of choice, Earthquake. (12.5% alcohol per volume for only 2 bucks, they call it a "High Gravity Lager" I think they mean: "high tectonic stress lager" but I won't fault them for mixing metaphors, their target market is homeless people and college students. Markets that, by the way, overlap a lot...)

 Another major issue in the case became why Melvin cussed out the police when they arrested him. The answer was simple to Melvin: they made him put down his taco in order to handcuff him.

 Rude.

 I think this is only explained by the fact that the prosecutor was bored or depressed he was losing or something, but we heard more about that taco than I ever thought possible in a court of law. Made me hungry.

But alas, nothing in Melvin's testimony could save the prosecutions case, not even the taco. (Not to mention Melvin had awareness enough to realize things were going well for him and cussing out the judge was not presently necessary).

The assistant prosecutor ultimately had to motion for a change in the charges. I never learned what happened after that hearing. But I like to think that Bud and Melvin buried the hatchet, (or rail spike, as the case may be) and made amends over a taco and earthquake. Both do not sound too bad right now.

TOPEKA ATTORNEY

On Why Mankind Will Not Survive the Coming Robot Apocalypse

I recently went to Wendy's for lunch.

("How mundane! How ordinary! Why is he telling this story!", the reader thinks to herself <--note how progressive I am for inserting the female pronoun.)

BUT something funny happened! There was a long line! Half of downtown eats at this particular Wendy's so of course, this is not unusual or funny, but be patient! What is interesting about this long line is that it was formed in front of the fountain drink machine as opposed to the cash register. "Why?" You ask yourself, as I did. "Why would there be a longer line in front of the pop machine than in line for ordering?!" The answer to this question is, ultimately, why human kind will lose its impending battle with the machines for dominance on the earth.

This new pop machine had: one dispenser for all drinks and ice, a touch screen to select the type of beverage desired, an additional touch screen for any added flavors and a sarcastic, smug attitude. This complex scheme of touch screens and single dispenser was too much for us, the lunch crowd at Wendy's. We were utterly befuddled.

Below is a word description of the process that was confounding the elite of my fair city. Lest anyone think I am condescending, I gather this sequence from my own personal experience. (E.I. I am dumb too)

"I... why... do I. Where do I get ice? Why is there a computer screen? Oh... ice button."

*pushes Ice Button with meat mitten (or hand in the vernacular)*

"But, uh, where do I get my tasty beverage?!"

"SAME PLACE?!"

"OK back out of ice screen."

"What do I want to drink?"

"Well I want coke, but my pants are tight. Go for diet. But that's embarrassing.... Maybe Coke zero? yes, no one will know I'm a fat ass! Perfect! Select."

I now have the coke zero display up... no... NO! MORE CHOICES... the Coke zero button is surounded by things like "coke zero with cherry, coke zero with Lemon" There are 12 additives for my beverage choice. That's 12 more decisions than I was expecting today. Clearly, way too much pressure. So I hit the center button got my drink and told the next person, "good luck." It was an old lady. That is just mean. She should have just gone for dehydration.

On the bright side, I'm pretty sure if Wendy's had wi-fi I could send an e-mail from the drink machine. (drum strikes for the one liner please)

The real problem is of course the machine designer. He had too much faith in us. We, who are accustomed to simply and lackadaisically presenting our paper cup to an outdated mechanical lever which serendipitously pours things what we wish to imbibe, were not ready for his version of the future. (<--note lack progressiveness with assuming the designer was a man). Instead his vision of a Utopia unlimited drink choices became a dis-topian line of confusion.

A dis-topia where we are bested regularly by machines and optimistic male drink engineers.

TOPEKA ATTORNEY

LIFE MOVES FAST

I moved into a new house, graduated, took and passed the bar and started a new career as an attorney. Not necessarily in that order. Ok pretty close to that order other than the house thing. Being a lawyer in Topeka Kansas has its upside. I don't get overworked. I am 15 minutes from my office. I can walk to the courthouse. But sometimes I think it would be fun to be a big city attorney.

Now that you, dear but in all likelihood fictional reader, are caught up. The real question is have I had any funny things happened to me recently. Nope. not really. There is nothing funny about the bar exam. Except the quiet (and sometimes not so quiet) desperation I felt in the weeks coming up to it. Hideous. Totally Hideous. Yeah that's not funny.

I think maybe I'll write something about halloween. I dressed as superman. (see awesome photo above.)




TOPEKA ATTORNEY

On Quotations

Still waiting on the other accounts of the Run Gabriel Saga. . . soooo here are some quotes from quotationspage.com I found fun.

"Education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance." -- Will Durant

(Someone has been reading some Plato! Mr. Durant is one of my favorite authors. I'm unsure what book this quote comes from. Normally he writes ancient history. I recommend "The Story of Philosophy" to anyone who (like me) has an amateur interest in philosophy). (was that an aside within and aside? (I think it was)).

"The Multitude of Books is making us ignorant." -- Voltaire
(What would you think of Google, sir.)

"The love of truth lies at the root of much humor." -- Robertson Davies

(I unfortunately have to admit ignorance as to who Mr. Davies is. That’s ok. The quote isn't that deep. See "It's funny cause its true." I suppose the link between humor an cynicism has its place somewhere in this thought.)

Feel free to post a favorite quote of your own below and why you like it. OOOORRR If you’re feeling mean you can post your least favorite quote you've seen on someone’s facebook page. (no need to share who your making fun of, unless your wish to publicly declare war on them, although that might be more fun.)

Like Matt Patton could say, "my least favorite quote is on Kyle Myers' (a friend of mine) Wall. It says, 'If you can laugh at yourself loud and hard every time you fall, people will think you're drunk.' - Conan O'brien. I don't like it because Kyle's an alcoholic."

Wow, seriously Matt. That was really judgmental of you. Why don't you get off you high horse and go help inner city kids at some kind of camp like thing. Jerk.

I recently took a Kant quote off my facebook page because it was there out of pure pretention. (Is pretention a word? Yes it seems so, it is the act of being pretentious. (see how unpretentious it was of me to ask whether pretention was a proper form of pretentious? This post has layers.) Here's another quote for you. "Verbing weirds language." -- Calvin and Hobbes)

And here's a link!: KANSAS LAWYER

Finals Totally Eclipses My Heart...

This video simultaneously freaks me out and makes me laugh.



Yeah. That just happened.

TOPEKA AUTO ACCIDENT ATTORNEY

No new posts for a while

I probably won't post anything more until after finals. So coming soon: awesome report on why finals are bad for the human soul.

TOPEKA AUTO ACCIDENT ATTORNEY

Matthew's Account

Don ‘t Drink and Drive or You Might End up in Mike’s Blog

While driving back from a wonderful evening at odooley’s pub, me bobbing my head to Rufus Wainwrite in a very masculine manner, Greyson and I came across a concerning sight at 21st and Wanamaker. The SUV of our friend James Porter had been rear ended by an old sedan with sharp, boxy edges. Immediately the driver of the sedan opened his door and literally fell out of his driver’s seat onto his face on the concrete. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such a dramatic gesture of drunkenness. Kyle (the backseat passanger of the assailed vehicle) in his desire to see state law satisfied and this vagrant come to justice dialed the authorities with slightly impaired motor function. Upon becoming aware of the imminent arrival of the authorities, the drunken man crawled back into his driver’s seat. He was going to try to drive off. I really wish that this post could capture the sound of this poor man’s attempt at speech. Sadly you’ll just have to make due with, “oooov, uhhhh neeeee to go hoooo.” Kyle with great authority stood in the path of the driver with his hand outstretched.

Within minutes the police arrived. “What happened here?” The Officer asked.
“Well officer, let me explain.” replied Kyle. “My friend J. P., while we were driving back from odooley’s ,got rear ended by this drunk guy…I’ll be honest with you officer I’m a little drunk…I’ve had 4...or maybe 6 drinks. One of them was a Belfast which admittedly hits me a little hard, but I wasn’t driving. As I said my friend was driving…” (before Kyle could offer up any more impertinent and incriminating information he was interrupted.

“So you weren’t involved in the accident?” said the officer. “No.”Kyle replied. The police officer walked past Kyle to get the account from the drivers.
After this amusing display, I looked over to see Gabe(the passenger of J.P.’s SUV)bouncing and crossing his legs intermittently. “Guys, I’ve really got to pee.”Gabe said.

“Well go on the Hardies building.” Replied Kyle.

“I don’t want to go with the cop standing right there.”

“He’s busy, he’ll never notice.”

“Fine.”
While Gabe was going over to the hardies building at a very brisk pace, Kyle yelled out. “RUN GABE.” The police officer swung his maglight over to where Gabe was standing in the middle of the street with his legs Crossed.

“Hey, where are you going” the officer yelled.

“I’ve really got to Pee!” replied Gabe.

After much deliberation the police officer said. “Fine, hurry back.”
This scene finally ended with the drunken man getting in the backseat of the police cruiser in handcuffs. That image alone will be reason enough for me never to try to drink and drive.

Note from Mike: Thanks for the post Matt, Apparently the plan is to author 4 different accounts of this story from the other participants. Consider them the “4 Gospels of the Run Gabriel Saga.” Blasphemy you ask? Not at all. It’s an apologetic. To demonstrate how 4 tales of the same events can bring out different details. None are wrong, they just differ from perspective.

TOPEKA PERSONAL INJURY LAWYER

Upon The Realization that I have no Creativity

I often have trouble keeping my blog updated. My goal is to post about once a week. However, I realize that 100% of my posts involve a funny thing that happened to me or a funny observation. I’m not sure that things worthy of note or comment actually happen to me this often. My days are pretty boring. I go to class. I go to work. I’m not really allowed to discuss work and no one wants to hear about class. (Although I bet I could write a funny blog about my US tax class that is taught by an obnoxious Canadian. Such Irony tickles me to my core.)
So what is a person to do? What I don’t want is the blog to read like a personal diary. Filled with introspection and selfishness (continuing with the theme of irony.) I am afraid it teeters towards diary. I could write about things with no point, a series of observations. I try for my stories to be self contained. Quick conflict with a punchline. Old lady calls me gay. Funny attempt to get a car out of a ditch. Plus my mind wanders so if I don’t have a point I start talking about random stuff. (like how when men are gearing up for a fight they act very strangely. Rather ape like. It seems like they bounce around a bit. Test the waters by invading the opponent’s body space. Increase profanity. Attempt to form intimidating insults without their voice cracking. Poo flinging would not be all that out of place. But I digress.)
I thought I would remedy this by writing a pure fiction. Come up with a character and situation and tell a story. This resulted in total, utter failure. (I will not bore you with the result unless one night I foolishly mix drinking and computer use. This has in the past resulted in writing random messages on Luke Aadalens facebook wall. I know very strange person to drunk-facebook but I made my choice.)
I have also thought about writing short poems. But despite my last blog post I’m not sure my masculinity can afford this blow.
After much thought-pondering (self-reference high five. (Scrubs reference during self reference high five, high five)) at last the remedy has revealed itself. I have some very funny friends. Some of whom may become funny professionally. (funny just like normal. Just more professional.) I think some of you, my funny friends read this. (Mark I’m calling you out and testing you: Text me when you read this.) In the last year all of you have probably had very funny things happen to you. E-mail them to me at michaelp35@gmail.com. I’ll read edit, post and comment. We all can enjoy. Thank you for your time.

TOPEKA ATTORNEY

On Little Old German Ladies

On Friday I went to the local store to buy some firewood since it was suppose to snow (Wasn't Saturday the first day of spring? Weather=fail). While I was at the store I picked up a rose fo' my lady. When reaching the check out line a little old German woman who had a full cart insisted in a thick accent that I go in front of her since I only had a rose and some wood (heh, immature joke).

I replied, "are you sure?"

She said, "of course"

Me: "Thanks"

German lady: "My pleasure, and the young lady who is receiving that rose is very lucky." She then paused thoughtfully and added, "or young man."

huh.

I replied, "uh thanks... its for my wife. A lady wife...thanks..."

My first thought was, what a remarkably tolerant old German lady. My second, more sobering thought was, I must be giving off a really different vibe than I thought.

Later I was pondering my second thought. (can you ponder a thought? Ugh, redundant. If I wasn't so shocked by an old German lady insinuating I might be gay, I wouldn't be so sloppy.)I think of myself as a kind of masculine guy. I'm 6'5" 245. I like beer. And and... Sports. But if I'm honest I'm not always into the most masculine things anymore. I dig Rufus Wainright, musical theater and I laughed at my wife when she suggested I chop my own wood. (heh). I feel dual pressures. I don't want to be a slob but it's my worst fear to be considered metro...

Ultimately, I think the problem is that there is so little in society that allows men to be men in a positive way. We are either bumbling idiots or effeminate. Well, I refuse to be labeled. I choose be balanced. Intelligent, masculine and Pensive. I can make the immature "wood" jokes, read philosophy, drink a beer, watch a UFC fight and chill out to "cigarettes and chocolate milk" (a rufus song...) I choose to be the Dos Equis Man. End of Blog. (You may chant something masculine if you like. Even the ladies. Especially the tolerant German ones.)

TOPEKA ATTORNEY

On the Sum of Human knowledge

We live in an age of instant access to infinite amounts of knowledge. There is little you can't learn without two quick seconds on google. Bar debates over beers are now quickly settled by the iphone mediator. So I was wondering how we as humans use this instant resolution of quandaries both great and small. Well, I'm sure more scientific studies have been done but I noticed that google likes to finish my sentences with what I assume are popular searches. These often puzzle me or make me laugh. I will share some of these with you. I will note if you wish to conduct a similar experiment hit the clear button at the bottom of the drop-down list otherwise you will only be engaging in introspection (although not a totally unworthy goal)

These are the first suggestions google has for certain queries:

If you type in "how to r" google finishes your thought with "how to roll a joint"

"How to t" google finishes with "how to tie a tie"

"how to y" google finishes with "how to yodel"

"How to u" = "how to unlock an iphone"

So far the google profile we have created is an inexperienced joint smokin, tie tying, yodeler who likes to hack iphones. (This is a man I want to meet)

This is it folks. We have infinite access to knowledge and we want to conduct illegal activity, look nice at work and yodel. The yodeling I get. . .

You guys should create your own funny google profiles of the American knowledge seeker and post it in the comments section! We could have all kinds of fun. Nothing too inappropriate please :)

TOPEKA ATTORNEY

Lizzy Patton and the half froze grass (or Lizzy Patton and the prisoner of F-150skaban)

Saturday was going to be a rather lazy day. It was supposed to snow/ice so I wasnt planning on going anywhere. Liz was working in Wichita, so Joey (who just got a promotion) was going to come over and we were going to play some Wii and generally chill out. About an hour into our Wii extravaganza. My wife called and said she had been in an accident, that she was fine and then hung up on me... Ok. Well I'm glad she's ok but the use of hanging up as a use of tension was not necessary. I felt sufficiently tense. After calling back she said, "I'm getting into a Red F-150 here's the license plate number." She then told me the number using the phenetic alphabet for the letters. "TENGO TENGO BRAVO 956!" (yeah I married an army brat)I was confused. I replied,

"what?"


Liz:"TTB TTB!Quickly! TENGO TENGO BRAVO 956!!!"

Me: "uh, ok. got it. I think. . . Why am I writing this down again?"

Liz: "Just in case they take me. You can find me."

Me: "huh. good thinkin. Do they look like they are going to take you?"

"gotta go"

click.

(sigh)"My wife's been taken."

About 5 minutes later she called back and told me the car (which happened to be my car) wasn't starting and she would need me to come pick her up. I was pretty confused/freaked out so I was already half way out the door ready to track down a red f-150 who was selling my wife into the slave trade. She also told me she was about 30 miles south of Topeka (an important detail) and asked me for the AAA info. After driving too fast in the poor weather and turning around in one of those breaks in the median that your not supposed to turn around on, I arrived at the scene of the accident. Liz got out of the F-150, thanked her captors and stepped into our Taurus. (Very kind of the slave traders to let her go. Also the nicest looking slave trader ever. Looked like a grandma.) I made the trek through the thick mixture of grass mud and ice to my car which she had wrecked.

The 2002 Nissan Altima vaguely reminded me of the car Harry and Ron had lost to the forbiden forest in the 2nd Harry Potter book. Half frozen grass and mud was hanging all around the bottom of the vehicle. The front grill was stuffed with mudd and the entire left side of the car was spattered as well. The tail pipe was roughly gagged with the muddy mixture (which was the reason for vehicle not starting).

A police officer arrived on the scene to help. He asked whether I had been following her I said no, I had just arrived. He asked me how I got there so fast. I thought the better question was what took him so long. (possibly in cahoots with the red f-150 slave traders). After we cleared the tail pipe of the icy mixture the car started relatively easily. After rocking the car back and fourth we managed to get the car dislodged from its position of post-mobility. (during which the police officer kept reaching his arm in my car in order to turn the stearing wheel while I was driving. I appriciated his help, however, I felt that this was a good way for him to become one with the mud.)

After we got the car "unstuck" we stood basically on a hill with the trench in between me and getting the car back on the highway. I became very aware of how sharp the drop off is from the shoulder to the grass. The police officer gave me instructions:

"Now what your gonna wanna do is go forward on this hill and gain some speed so you dont get stuck in the trench then, when your past the trench, drive parallel to the shoulder for a ways and try to get up to 35 mph. Otherwise you won't be able to pop back onto the highway. But make sure you dont take to long because theres that bridge up there and I don't wanna half to fish you outa that creak."

Huh. Fair Point. Ok. I gave it a go. Made it past the trench ok but ran into a problem on the stretch for which to gain speed for the "pop" back onto the highway. The car couldn't get past about 25 miles per hour in the muddy-ice-grass. But the bridge was coming on fast so I went for it. I made it over! But not without severly scraping the undercarriage of my car. (sigh) oh well it had grass hanging down from it anyway. I followed Elizabeth back to Topeka. She drove about 50 miles an hour. Understandable. We made it as far as my parents house and we parked my car there. A day later we returned to the car. On the bright side it started. On the down side we can't shift it out of park. (sigh)

TOPEKA ATTORNEY

On the Criminal Mastermind Lee Douglas

Sorry if you've heard this story 1000 times but I couldn't think of anything else to write this week/month.

Some years ago (Second semester of my Freshman year at OCU) I had a brush with the law. Yes, its true. Mild mannered law student by day, accomplice (ok more like witness) to a devious criminal by night (For the record I have never been accused or convicted of any misdemeanor or felony). A friend of mine was arrested in my presence and later convicted of possession of a firearm and discharging said fire arm within the City limits of the quiet town of Edmond Oklahoma.

Here is the back-story. It was a nice spring day and a few of my friends and I decided it would be a lovely day to go hang out at a park near campus. In this park was a pond. In this pond were ducks. (This will be important shortly.)After hanging out for a hour or so my friend Doug Daniels had the idea to pull out his Red Rider BB gun from his car and mess around. You know the kind. It comes in a box labeled ages 12 and up. (Apparently it should say, 12 and up minus freshmen in college). Now I completely understand that this was one of the dumbest things we could have possibly participated in, but what happens next was beyond what I expected.

After shooting at various signs and trees, Doug and the rest of us were a bit tired and all sat on a hill about 30 to 50 feet away from the pond. If you know anything about a Red Rider BB gun, you know that this is the very limit of the "weapon's" range. So Doug was arching shots at about a 45 degree angle in order to get the BB's to reach the pond. The general goal was to hit the ducks swimming in the pond. I will note for all you animal lovers that Doug did not hit one duck and am supremely confidant that if he had, the duck would not have noticed because the angle of the arch needed to reach the pond was such that there could not have been much velocity left. (Even if we have been at point blank range I doubt the bb gun could do any serious damage but that would just seem cruel).

After complementing Doug on a rather close shot I look to my right and saw a Police officer running toward us with his gun drawn! I told Doug he had a rather urgent need to put the bb gun down. The police officer repeated this request but in a more colorful way. The young officer yelled, "Freeze! Pecker head!" (a phrase I hope he uses often) Doug immediately tossed the rifle to the ground and put his hands up. The officer proceeded to efficiently and a bit roughly turn Doug around face down on the ground a cuff him. Now at this point we were all pretty scared beyond the belief of our innocent upbringing. But I figured we would get chewed out and the bb gun would be taken away. Worst case scenario, I thought Doug would be issued a hefty ticket. However, the officer told us we all needed to leave and we watched over our shoulders as our friend was read his rights and put in the back of the squad car.

We were stunned. We had no idea what to do. After we got back to campus Reece's phone rang (Reece was Doug's roommate) Doug told us what the bail was and gave us all the information we needed to tell his parents. None of us had enough money to bail our friend out of jail so Reece called Doug's parents and let them know what was going on. They lived in Texas and were not very pleased with the situation. They decided they would drive up the next day to post bail. So knowing our friend was going to spend the night in jail we did the only thing we could do. We went to Wall-mart and bought him a plastic butt donut. We also asked if they had any congratulatory cards for friends getting out jail. They did not. (untapped market for any of you enterprising minds)

Later that night we were sitting wide eyed in Doug and Reece's Dorm room debating whether Doug was tough enough to withstand a night in Jail. When my roommate called me and told me to quickly turn on the television and watch NBC's local news station. The lead story. Lee Douglas. The duck slayer. The smug field reporter was on location at the park. He began. "Duck season is months away but one sharp shooter couldn't wait." He preceded to tell the sorted tail with apparently made up details. "Lee Douglas a student at a local university took a pellet gun and stood in this general area" (It was not that general area.) "and shot at the ducks swimming unsuspectingly in the pond. The local community is outraged." It cut to a lady and a her son who were at the park, and clearly had just been told about the incident from the anchor man. She stated, "I don't know why anyone would want to hurt the ducks. We just come here and feed the duck krispy cream donuts" (Krispy Cream donuts?! only in Edmond Oklahoma.) I ask you dear reader who is the criminal master mind here? The man who he passively tries to shoot ducks unsuccessfully or the women who tries to fatten those ducks up with expensive donuts who clearly means to return later to make Fois Gras. (a fancy duck dish comprised of a duck who has been overly fed)
Anyway, I digress. To sum up: Worst news report ever.

Doug returned to us the next day. I will note he did not need the butt donut. The judge who was first assigned to his case was quoted as saying, "this could be the next timothy McVeigh." This is in Oklahoma mind you. Doug's lawyer shrewdly was able to change judges. The new judge laughed at the case on the bench and said time served. Ducks will never be safe again.


TOPEKA ATTORNEY

On Harry Potter

After graduating from Oklahoma Christian University a few friends of mine decided to take up the sport of golf. We thought we had entered into a new world of the elite. Young, soon to be rich (or so we hoped) and full of care free joy. Golf represented a quest to sell out as quickly as possible. The old cliche says, Pride goes before the fall (is that in the Bible? I probably shouldn't call it a cliche if its in the Bible.)

My "fall" occurred on an auspicious day when I triumphantly returned to Oklahoma and my then 5 month old pass time, golf. That cool fall morning Elizabeth had gone shopping with her friend while Reece and I, who were perhaps a bit hung over, decided on a refreshing 9 holes to start our day (he had moved into an apartment complex that had its own golf course). The full 9 holes would not be played that day.

The 3rd hole brought no unusual occurrences at first. I drove well, down the center (ok that's a little unusual) and Reeces ball landed somewhat to the left. I was toward the end of the fairway and didn't have far too go before I hit onto the green. There was, of course, one obstacle that I had foreseen and one that I had not. The obstacle I was aware of and worried about was the water that flowed lazily between me and par. The unthought of obstacle was the cart path that lay just about a foot in front of my ball. A ball, I might add, that was quite hard. I swung my club with neanderthal strength. It connected with the Ball. Instantaneously, a flash bomb went off in my head.

Totally and utterly confused I saw Reece running toward me repeatedly yelling, "are you ok? are you ok?"

I replied, "My head hurts a little bit." (understatement is fun even when you have a concussion).

I felt the place where ball had made contact. I pulled my hand back to see that it was now covered in blood. I looked down at the ground there was splatter. The hot liquid continued to run down my face. Reece asked if I was going to pass out. I didn't think so. But I was pretty confused. I told him I didn't have health insurance (so much for the wealth). We covered my bloody head with my shirt (which incidental had Arabic writing on it from a Model Arab League competition I had once attended) We found my Ball it had cleared the Water. That's right. The ball had struck the corner of the cart path, bounced up, struck my forehead and went across the hazard only to land in the rough to the right of the green. I still have the scar on my forehead. It defiantly declares without my permission, "golf is not my sport." But on the bright side I can dress up like a giant Harry Potter for Halloween.

TOPEKA ATTORNEY

Upon losing all faith in humanity

Recently I was stopped at a red light with Elizabeth. At the intersection there was quite a bit of construction so that the lane to my right was closed. This presented a mild difficulty for the people turning left onto the road which I was traveling on. Apparently so much so that instead of turning into the correct place they actually turned in the turn lane going in the opposite direction. Whats amazing is that they didn't actually realize there mistake until they were face to face with an oncoming car and nowhere to turn because to their left were cones and to their right was torn up concrete. Beyond that torn up concrete (and just a single lane further to their right) was the correct westbound lane. What is particularly amazing to me about this is that not 1 but 2 other cars followed the first guy into the incorrect lane. This is about when I discovered that humans are lemmings. I really wish I could have witnessed how this situation resolved itself but alas my light was green and I too had to blindly follow the car in front of me. My leader did not go off any cliffs (continuing with the lemming metaphor) but he did have a delightful bumper sticker which stated plainly and defiantly, "what the f*ck are you looking at."

(sigh)

Now I haven't actually lost all faith in humanity. But really. Not a great showing lately guys. (lets segway into a pep talk for humanity)... just kidding... but seriously. Maybe something like, "lets get out there and shows those condescending squirrels what we've got. With their judgmental little eyes and their tree top homes. Well we have it pretty good too squirrels . . . heh (indecipherable grumbles) squirrels . . . . "

This post has taken a turn for the weird and with that I am done.

TOPEKA ATTORNEY

CHARACTER EDUCATION KANSAS

Another Vintage Post

I couldn't think of anything very funny to write so here is an old post from the old blog.

Wendy's Drive Through
After I got off work the other day I was quite hungry so before I headed over to the hotel which my mom and little bro were (they were stopping in for the night on their way back from enrollment at Baylor) I went across the street to Wendy's. I ordered, casually, a number 6 combo meal. (thats the spicy chicken sandwich and it is Delish!) The total came to 5 dollars and 30 cents (the numbers are rounded to protect the innocent and because I don't remember exactly how much it was accept that it was over 25 cents which is part of my story so I will continue) anyway when I pulled up to the first window where you pay, (because just one window to pay and recieve your food is just to much for me to handle) I handed the cashier, who was a long haired freckaled faced boy of about 17 years of age, a 5 dollar bill and 50 cents, However the freckaled one dropped my fifty cents! I was about the open my car door to try and retrieve the lost coinage when he said:

"Wait! I'll Get It!!!"

I was a little puzzled at his respose because he was in the building and me being outside.
But then he proceded to crawl outside the drive through window! And as he landed inbetween the ediface and my car (which he was uncomfortably close to by the way) he plainly stated:

"Its Magic!"

He dissapeared for a moment and remerged triumphantly with only one of the quarters and held it up proudly to show me and crawled back inside the wendy's. I was to surprised by the entire situation to object when he told me I was short a few cents and I just retrieved and few more coins from my pocket and proceded to the next window.

TOPEKA ATTORNEY

CHARACTER EDUCATION KANSAS

Have you met Matt?

It's been brought to my attention that I bear certain similarities to the character Marshall on the TV program "How I Met Your Mother." This guy has been with his now wife since freshmen year of college, is a law student (or was at the beginning of the show), is 6'4" and is generally hilarious much like myself (ok Jason Segal is alot more funny than me.)
As a result I have watched several episodes of the show and enjoyed them thoroughly. And has actually resulted in a humorous situation in real life which I will now relate to you dear reader. (who is in all probability only Elizabeth). About a week ago Liz was out of town so I went down to Manhattan to hang out with my brother Matt and some other friends. We went to a bar to grab a few drinks. Matt mentioned that there were a two girls he found attractive. I told him that he should go talk to them. We discussed the best way for his approach but we couldn't decide. Clearly, I had to take matters into my own hands. So as they walked by I tapped one on the shoulder and said, "have you met Matt?" Matt acted cool and was all like, "what? what's with this guy." and ended up talking to them for a while. I ducked out and went and sat at a table. (You might now be wondering how this relates to How I met your Mother. well if you don't know I'm not gonna help you. I know its bad story telling but that's how its going.) A few minutes later Matt came over to our table and we asked if he had gotten their number. He hadn't. We gave him a pretty hard time but before we left he remedied the situation.

Good job Matt. You made me so proud.

TOPEKA LAWYER

CHARACTER EDUCATION KANSAS