Begging The Question

Friday, July 08, 2005

Friday Spies © : We Are Really Reaching This Week
I've let Milbarge down two weeks in a row now, and for that I apologize. Here are the questions he drummed up this week. I'll answer them as I can throughout the day, and I promise that we will get our act together next week.

1. Tropical Storm Cindy and Hurricane Dennis are causing trouble in the Southeast this week. Share a natural disaster story.

My family survived a tornado passing over our house when I was about 4 years old (incidentally, the same year I ran away from home the first time). The only damage was a minor injury to my little brother's toe from a golf-ball sized piece of hail that struck him in the foot.

2. What is your favorite work of art?

Bistro

I don't know if it is my absolute favorite work of art, but I really like the mood that Juarez Machado evokes in Bistro.

3. Do you squeeze the toothpaste tube from the middle or the bottom?

The middle. The top is just dumb, the bottom is too efficient. I just grab and squeeze.

4. What is your favorite "cult" film?

Bad Taste. How Peter Jackson showed this movie to anyone and was then given a bazillion dollars to make The Lord of the Rings, I'll never know. Bad lighting, bad acting, juvenile special effects, dubious plot about chainsaw-wielding aliens, unintentional hilarity - this movie has it all.

5. Would you go into space if given the chance? Where would you go?

No, I want space to come to me. Besides, NASA and it's ilk don't really have the kind of safety record I'm looking for. I've got a better chance of surviving a blindfolded marathon in rush hour traffic in L.A. than I do in making it to space and back on the shuttle.



Thursday, July 07, 2005

Independence Day Weekend: Part Deux
Go here for the first part of the story.

We pick up this tale with our intrepid hero (me) and his very drunk sidekick (the groom) going through the motions at the wedding-day brunch. I scarfed down food and coffee (the first caffeine I've had in almost 3 months) in between explaining to folks that the groom was not in fact going to die - he only looked like he was - and calling to apologize profusely for my drunk dials of the night before.

Knowing glances over sunglasses and hungover head shakes were exchanged between me and my fellow revelers while we endured the slings and arrows of the groom's family who one and all exclaimed, "How could you do this to him on the night before his wedding?!?" My response was, "He asked for a good time. He got it. I can't be responsible if a grown man can't hold his liquor." I think the groom spent more time in the bathroom than he did at the table, but by 11:30 he seemed to be over the worst of it. We drove back to the hotel and he hit the rack while I checked into my own room. We are friends, of course, but I'm not sleeping on the fold-out bed in the honeymoon suite I don't care how close our friendship is.

My early afternoon consisted of a long nap, a cheeseburger, several Advil, and a shower. We had to be at the church at 4 pm for photographs. The groom seemed in good spirits at 3:45 and we made it to the church without any trouble. Photos went off without a hitch, likewise the ceremony which was beautiful (and mercifully brief for a Catholic affair). More pictures followed the ceremony, and then we finally hit the reception hall at the YWCA for drinks, dinner, dancing, and more photos.

Before the wedding party was allowed to sit down in the banquet room, the photographer wanted to shoot some "informal" photos. As we were setting up for one such shot, an elderly woman in a tangerine-hued pant suit approached the groom, gave him a big hug, and with the most sincere smile looked up at him and beamed,

"Ooooooh, aren't you excited?!? Tonight is the night!"

To this I responded by spraying a mouthful of beverage all over the best man. The groom shook it off pretty well, but the fodder for my subsequent tequila-fueled evening was provided in that moment.

Finally we were permitted to find our places in the banquet hall. I was seated at a table with all the other law school folks, a small table in the corner far away from the bride and groom and any other respectable people. That turned out to be a smart move because it wasn't long before the law school table turned into the "we're going to finish this handle of Cuervo or die trying" table. The other attendees were jealous but none of them were eager enough to join us. Just as well, for that meant more tequila for us - and more tequila was absolutely required after the bride's father's toast.

The bride's father is rather diminutive in stature but otherwise bears a striking resemblance to John Denver. The toast, unfortunately resembled John Denver, too, in that it took off and initially seemed like it was headed in a nice direction before unexpectedly going out of control and crashing in a flaming ball of fire. The toast - paraphrased for you because I wasn't live blogging the event - went a little something like this:
[Bride] and [Groom] are so lucky. They are so in love, this is there special day, and I am so happy for them. They are such special people. [Bride] is truly special and [Groom] knows that. [Bride] is a kind, caring, warm person who makes friends of even her enemies. She's just the friendliest person you'll ever meet. She's very, very friendly. Growing up - and [Groom] I know you know this - she had a lot of boyfriends. I mean A LOT of boyfriends. So many boyfriends I couldn't keep track of them all. But no matter how things ended between her and a boyfriend, they always remained friends and it wouldn't be unusual on a Friday night for [Bride] to be entertaining several of her old boyfriends at the house. They were all just so nice to her and she was so nice to them. It's almost as if she never broke up with any of them - it's like some of them never left our house. And [Groom], that's just the special kind of lady you've married today.
The toast lacked obscenities so it did not reach Costanzian proportions, but any toast in which the bride's father essentially calls his daughter a slut is one for the ages. My table toasted him heartily with cheers of "Tonight's the night!"

From there, the evening progressed to dancing (other people), more drinking (me), more dancing (not me), more drinking (me), many more "Tonight's the night!" toasts to the groom and, finally, a drunken walk to the hotel through downtown Columbus. The hot, muggy walk sobered me up a bit so I was able to avoid any more drunk dialing that night. All in all, a very good evening and one of the best weddings I've had the privilege of participating in (and I received as my groomsman's gift a very nice Mont Blanc pen engraved with my law school crest). I can imagine ways in which the experience could have been more enjoyable for me, but for the newlyweds it seemed just about as perfect as they could have hoped for. Congratulations to them and I hope they have a long, happy life together.



Wednesday, July 06, 2005

I Killed a Man in Reno Just to Watch Him Die: UPDATED
Per Sherry's request, I present below three statements about me. Two are true, one is not. Feel free to leave your guesses as to which one is a lie in the comments. I apologize if this post is a little blue, but since all I do on this blog is talk about myself (and the more mundane parts of my life at that), I'm running out of secrets for these kinds of revealing posts.

1. I made out with the student-teacher in my high school French class. LIE

I didn't kiss anyone in high school. No students, teachers, or student-teachers. I did study French, though.

2. I modeled nude for art classes in college. TRUTH

The drawing classes at my college needed a new male model because "Billy" the previous model was so unattractive in so many ways that the students revolted and refused to return to class. There was also a lot of laughing and joking about certain parts of his anatomy. My girlfriend at the time was in the class and mentioned that the models made $15 an hour. I half joked to her and the professor that I would have signed up if only I had known that you got paid to do it. The professor immediately took me up on the offer and so began my brief career as an art model. It was an easy gig except for having to stand perfectly still for 20-30 minutes at a time. The being naked in front of a lot of people part wasn't as embarrassing as you might think.

3. I turned down two girls' offer of a threesome. TRUTH

Two Canadians, lots of alcohol, etc. I politely declined for a couple of reasons: (1) I didn't know anything about them and I was not prepared to come home from Canada with an STD; (2) I was dating someone at the time and whatever other faults I have I am not unfaithful; and (3) Not to upset the order of the universe, Centinel, but not every straight man is into this situation. I'm not going to judge anyone who is into it (Who am I to judge? I have my own predilections and peccadilloes that may or may not be shared by any of you.), but the menage a trois doesn't do anything for me. First, because I'm not interested in sex solely for the physical aspects of it. I've never been the random hook-up guy, the take someone home from the bar guy, or the one-night stand guy. So I'm not having sex with someone unless I'm in a committed relationship with them. That leads to point number two, which is that I am not one to share. I'm jealous (some might say overly so) and I'm not interested in sharing the physical and emotional intimacy of the connection between me and my significant other with some third party, regardless of who that third party is. As far as I am concerned, it's no less violative of our relationship simply because it's another girl instead of another guy. Moreover, I would hope my partner would feel the same way. Third, frankly, it just doesn't do it for me.

Yeah, I know guys, I'm gay or weird or a liar or whatever. I've heard it all before. My guy friends have never been able to understand why I have issues with the threesome and I don't expect you guys to understand either.

Congratulations to stag and lulu who correctly identified the lie.





Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love,
and let us judge all the rumors of the old men
to be worth just one penny!
The suns are able to fall and rise:
When that brief light has fallen for us,
we must sleep a never ending night.
Give me a thousand kisses, then another hundred,
then another thousand, then a second hundred,
then yet another thousand more, then another hundred.
Then, when we have made many thousands,
we will mix them all up so that we don't know,
and so that no one can be jealous of us when he finds out
how many kisses we have shared.
Catullus





Friday Spies: And By "Friday" I mean "Wednesday"
Due to my fantastic weekend in Ohio I was unable to timely answer Milbarge's Friday Spies questions. In the interest of providing some content I decided to make a half-assed attempt at them today. This post may very well put the lie to the phrase "better late than never."

1. Is Tom Cruise correct that we're not alone in the universe?

TC is rich and famous which means he must be smarter than the rest of us. So if he thinks we're not alone who am I to contradict him? Sure, we've got company.

2. What is a fashion trend that you would like to see go away, and what is a fashion you would like to see come back in style?

The fashions that need to go away:
For women: Capri pants need to die.
For men: "Dress" shorts. Get the behind me, pleated khaki shorts!
For both: Shell necklaces.

The fashions that need to return:
For women: striped athletic socks.
For men: French cuffs.
For both: Maintaining a healthy body weight.

3. I was going to ask what city will win next week's vote on the host of the 2012 Olympics, but everyone knows it's going to be Paris, so I decided to tweak it: What city that you have visited (or lived in) would be a good Olympic host city, and why?

Let's say Houston - it's big, they have lots of money, and nothing says fun in the sun Summer Olympics like the 110 heat and 110 percent humidity of a fine August day in Houston. Let the games begin!

4. Happy Canada Day to our readers in the Great White North! In light of that holiday, and our own upcoming Independence Day, tell us your favorite Independence Day memory. (And yes, those of you in other nations can use whatever national holiday you celebrate.)

I'm not sure if I have a favorite story, but Independence Day has always been my favorite holiday. Maybe not my favorite memory, but a cool one nonetheless, was two years ago when I watched the fireworks over the Yorktown battlefield. Celebrating Independence Day at the site of such an important battle in our nation's history is about as patriotic as it gets.

5. The Supreme Court ruled this week on one set of commandments, but we want to hear yours. What are the Ten Commandments of [X]? Pick a topic and reveal its ten most important rules. Phrasings with "shalt" appreciated but not required.

In the first place, I'm more of a standards versus rules kind of guy. Guidelines you see, not actual rules. But since I fall short of even the most modest of standards, I don't feel comfortable giving other people a list of "shalls" and "shall nots" by which to live their lives. It's a full-time job just keeping myself out of trouble.





My Independence Day weekend: Part the First
As you may or may not know, I spent the weekend in Ohio of all places. Lots of good stuff to report, but it's going to take more than one post. So, where to begin? Well, let's start at the beginning.

The festivities really began here on Thursday afternoon when my now ex-wife dropped by my office for a surprise visit. This unannounced pop-in was cause for great consternation, all the more so because of the anger she exhibited (at the time she was not yet my "ex" - a long story which we will not get into here). She dispensed with the usual pleasantries and launched immediately into yelling and screaming and demanded the keys to my Jeep or else "her lawyers would ruin me." When I inquired as to why she wanted the Jeep she explained very simply that it was the principle of the matter. What principle? She elaborated that she deserved the Jeep in exchange for how I've treated her and that I needed to be screwed harder than she was. Fine. She'd already taken my dog, why not provide the fodder for the second verse of the country song cliche and take my truck, too? The good thing about all of this was that in exchange for me signing over title of the Jeep, she signed the divorce papers (which were filed and signed by the judge yesterday).

Right, so sans Jeep but with my walking papers in hand, I prepped for my trip to Ohio to participate in the wedding of two law school friends. What a lovely vibe to bring with me to a wedding. I flew out of Reno at 12:30 am (!) on Friday morning, changed planes in Dallas, and arrived in glorious Ohio at 1 pm. A short $30 cab ride later I was at the hotel, changed into my suit, and headed to the church for the rehearsal.

Following the rehearsal was a lovely dinner for the wedding party, including an open bar of which I took full advantage. At dinner, the groom bemoaned the lack of a bachelor party and hinted about that he would not mind being taken out for drinks and shenanigans after dinner. The groom's brother and I felt obligated to make the groom sorry for ever making such silly requests and agreed to show him a good time that night. Well, as good a time as one can have in Columbus freakin' Ohio.

In between dinner and the debauchery was a decidely dull fireworks display dubbed "Red, White, and Boom" and hailed by locals as one of the best in the country. Color me unimpressed. I don't know if it was the Papa John's airplane that kept obscuring my view, the army of sleeveless, obese Nascar fans, or the dulcet tones of Lee Greenwood on constant repeat that did it, but by the time the show was over I was pissed off at Ohio and determined to take it out on the groom who chose this place as the locale for his wedding.

The impromptu bachelor party began in the hotel bar with 2 rounds of tequila shots and a round of beers while we waited for the rest of the group to assemble. Another beer and we were off for a bar down the block that called itself "The Jury Room." How appropriate for a wedding party composed of lawyers, right? Let's just say that they could have renamed the place "Twelve Angry Men" by the time we hustled out the door. We did monster tequila shots out of plastic Dixie cups - warm tequila with no limes because some punk decided we were too manly for limes - followed by more beers, more shots, and a body shot or two for the groom (off of the skanky bartender). Two hours and an unpaid tab later, we headed for the next closest bar.

On the walk to the next bar - appropriately named "The Metro" - I started getting ribbed for my jeans. Not that I cared, because I've heard it all before and in any event I like my jeans. But while someone inquired as to whether I bought my jeans in the women's department, I began to take inventory of our crew and realized that I was not even close to being the most metro guy there. The groom was safely ensconced in Dockers and a polo shirt, but my tormentors were in striped shirts, a polo with the freakin' collar flipped up, and a pink button-down. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. But I digress.

The scene at "The Metro" played out as before - shots, beers, more shots, more beers, and then, in an amusing turn of events, the groom decided to dance on a pool table. The bouncers were not amused with this stunt so we had to pull him off the table. Oddly enough, his dancing inspired a pair of young ladies to mount the table for an impromptu dancing / make out session which didn't seem to bother the bouncer in the slightest. It bothered me, though, because no matter how much tequila I've put into my body I'm never gonna be comfortable watching fat girls make out - on a pool table or anywhere else for that matter.

We took the table dancing as a sign that the night needed to draw to a close and thus headed back to the hotel around 3 am. I was sharing a room with the groom so I was tasked with lugging him back. He collapsed on his bed almost immediately and I managed to pull out the sofa bed before the room started spinning too fast. At some point in all of this I ordered breakfast to be delivered to the room ($40 worth, WTF?) and, knowing that I needed to stay awake a while longer or risk getting sick I did a little drunk dialing (fun as usual, though I hear that I said some very foolish things that night) and finally drifted off into the arms of Somnus around 5 am. I was awakened an hour or two later by room service, I downed a little coffee, and then cleaned myself up for the wedding day brunch that was to begin at 10:30. The groom, however, was moving a little slower and did not have quite as a rapid a recovery as did I. I'm going to chalk that up to the fact that I didn't do body shots of Bacardi 151 off of the street tramp-turned bartender, but who knows.

Stay tuned for the next installment of this series in which the phrase "Tonight is the night!" is uttered by an old lady in an orange pant suit, the bride's father gives the wedding toast of the century, more tequila is consumed, and someone gets a plate broken over his head. Good times.





All-Request: Centinel's Roundtable
Wrapping up my all-request week, I turn finally to Centinel's oddball request:
You're sitting at friendship bar in a nice Irish pub. You can choose 4 drinking/philosophizing companions. They must all be living and the following additional restrictions apply: (1) Co-drinker #1 must be a sports manager/coach; (2) Co-drinker #2 must be a musician; (3) Co-drinker #3 must be a politician; and (4) Co-drinker #4 must be a person currently in prison. Who do you choose?
When I first saw this request, I was thinking I needed to come up with a topic for this motley roundtable. That was the reason it took so long finishing the post. But then I re-read the call of the question, as they say in the bar review classes, and realized that if I picked well, conversation would burble up naturally, without my coaxing. Therefore, without further delay, I would choose as my drinking companions the following. For the coach, I thought about going with John Wooden, the former UCLA basketball coach. He's almost 95 years old, so I could probably out-drink him. Maybe. But he also seems like a genuinely interesting person, and I'm sure he would be a pleasant conversational companion. But given the rest of my choices, I'm going with Steve Spurrier, the former Duke and Florida football coach now starting at South Carolina. I imagine he'd be fun to share a drink with, while I listen to him make fun of everyone else. The musician would be Levon Helm from The Band. He seems awfully cool and down-to-earth, and I know he would have some stories to tell -- he acted in Coal Miner's Daughter and The Right Stuff, for crying out loud! I was thinking of choosing Jim Traficant for both the politician and the prisoner, but I think I want a more laid-back ensemble. So the politician will be former Congressman Ben Jones, better known as Cooter from "The Dukes of Hazzard." And, for the prisoner (the hardest one, obviously), the best one I can come up with now is Edwin Edwards. The former Louisiana governor would be a more palatable politician-prisoner than Traficant, I'm sure. Anyway, I think Cooter, Levon, Spurrier, and the Crook would be a mighty fine set of barstool philosophizers, although if a poker game breaks out, I'd better watch my wallet.



Tuesday, July 05, 2005

All-Request Ends and Odds
Milbarge addressed some of the all-request topics in this post on Friday and I thought I'd try to get back into the swing of things by answering the same questions.

Milbarge addressed "Frequent Citations" question about the barber first and so will I. "How do you feel about going to the barber? Do you like to chat or would you rather have peace? Do you go to a fancy salon or the cheapest guy with clippers you can find?"

I don't feel so good about going to barbers. I don't have the right hair for the one haircut that all barbers give so I always come away from the barber looking like a close-cropped 6-year old on school picture day, complete with a half-dozen cowlicks going every which way. So instead I spend the money and go to a salon. It costs more, but I get a scalp, neck, and shoulder massage, shampoo, and a cut where the stylist uses *gasp* scissors! It is a more costly but far superior alternative to the barber shop. I don't mind chatting with the stylist or people around me, but I don't feel compelled to engage any of them in conversation. If the stylist doesn't feel like talking, I am content to stare straight ahead, David Puddy-like until the job is done.

As for Citations's secondary request for law school horror stories, Milbarge and I were pretty boring in law school. There's just not too much to tell. Don't act so shocked.

Okay, Sebastian asked something about wrestling and women in skimpy outfits. All I have to say about that is that I don't care how skimpy the outfits are, I don't want to see any women associated with pro wrestling at all. I'm not convinced that any of them are actually WOMEN and, frankly, that's just not my cup of tea.

Next, kmsqrd posed the question "Crunchy/creamy peanut butter?" to which I say creamy! I eat a lot of peanut butter, but I avoid the crunchy stuff at all costs. I don't like foods that combine crunchy and creamy in the same bite and crunchy peanut butter is no exception. I just don't like mixing my food textures, which is why I don't like pineapples, lots of Americanized Chinese dishes, and crunchy PB.

Soupie recycled a Friday Spies question from way back and asked what physical and non-physical traits would we change about ourselves. I am generally happy with my physical appearance and I do what I can to keep myself looking good, none of which is not to say that I don't fall short of perfection. Believe me, I do. However, this is who I am and I'm happy with that. I guess if I was pressed to give an answer, I'd say that I wish I, hmm, I guess I wish I could have whiter teeth without resorting to bleaching them.

As for a non-physical trait, I wish I was less prone to losing my temper with stupid and/or annoying people. I wish I was more tolerant of idiots, or that I was at least able to bite my tongue instead of confront people for their idiocy all the time. Some day it's going to get me into a lot of trouble.

PG got all serious and asked "What would constitute professional success for you?" Good question. I'm not sure. I really feel like I'm treading water with this whole law thing and I don't know if I would ever be able to find fulfillment here (not that fulfillment is the equivalent of success, of course). I suppose success would consist of finding a niche where I could develop some expertise and proficiency in a particular field, being respected by my colleagues and clients for my abilities, and being recognized for the hard work I put in. Being the boss is not my idea of success, but being a lawyer was not ever my idea of the right profession. Truth be told, getting a book published on a non-legal topic would probably represent the goal I'd most like to achieve in my professional life.

Finally, C-dog asked "You're sitting at friendship bar in a nice Irish pub. You can choose 4 drinking/philosophizing companions. They must all be living and the following additional restrictions apply: (1) Co-drinker #1 must be a sports manager/coach; (2) Co-drinker #2 must be a musician; (3) Co-drinker #3 must be a politician; and (4) Co-drinker #4 must be a person currently in prison. Who do you choose?"

Hmph. I liked this question the first time it was asked as the main plot point for "Speed." But this is what we get for opening up the request lines. So, a coach? That's easy, I'd pick my dad. For the musician? How about Tom Petty. He seems like a fun guy. A politician? Bleh. What a way to ruin a night at the bar. Actually, truth be told I don't like the guy at all, but I'd choose Slick Willie because you KNOW that man knows how to party. And for the final member of our party - someone who is currently in prison? I'll go with OJ Simpson. Oh, wait, he should be in prison. Fine, then how about the Godfather of Soul, James Brown? If he's not in prison currently, just come back and read this post in another six months.





The U.S. Should Stick to its Principles on Darfur
We have been relatively passive members of the Coalition for Darfur, a consortium of bloggers trying to raise awareness of the genocide going on in the Darfur region of the Sudan. Eugene has done a tremendous job keeping us abreast of news about Darfur, and we try to post the weekly update here, too. I heartily urge all of our readers to check the CFD site more often than we link to it.

I saw an item that I had not seen mentioned at CFD (of course, I probably wasn't looking close enough), and I wanted to pass it along, and assuage a little of my guilt for not doing more to get the Darfur news out. This note in The New Republic's "&c." column points out the Bush Administration's cozying up to the Sudanese government even after declaring its actions in Darfur to be genocide. (I'm not sure if the "&c." column is subscription-restricted; if it is, I can email the story if you're interested.) An excerpt:
The Bush administration dealt a new blow to the moral force of international law last week when it hosted a state visit by Sudanese Foreign Minister Mustafa Osman Ismail. The minister was granted high-level meetings with Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, who promised to review existing sanctions, and her deputy, Robert Zoellick, who preliminarily accepted an invitation to Sudan's presidential inaugural next month.
Zoellick at least called on the Sudanese to take firm action to stop the violence in Darfur, and said that if he does go to Sudan for the inauguration, he would visit Darfur as well. Still, the State Department needs to make clear that including the Sudan in the international community -- including the lifting of sanctions -- will be dependent on seeing the government take action, rather than based on the hope that it will.

The TNR story also links to a news item noting that Illinois became the first state to divest itself of investments with companies that do business with Sudan, to the tune of about $1 billion. (That article also mentions that Harvard University plans to divest as well.) Maybe consistent and widespread action like this on the state and local level will be an example for the federal government.



Sunday, July 03, 2005

Two Truths and a Lie: UPDATED
I posted these the other day, and I appreciate all the guesses (and Sherry's suggestion for the post). I will work through them in reverse order.

3. I did not attend, and was not invited to, my Mother's second wedding. TRUE

My stepfather proposed to my mother one year around Thanksgiving, and then that Christmas, they went away for a little vacation weekend, and got married during that trip. So no one else was invited, and the only people in attendance were, I guess, the Justice of the Peace and some required witnesses. They just didn't want to make a big production out of it, but I've seen pictures, and it looked like a nice, sweet time. The spot where they did it is kind of a famous point in a city I like, so I have been to the site of the wedding, but I wasn't there at the time.

2. I did not have a black person in my home until after I moved away for college. FALSE

This one is the lie. I worried that, between this one and the one above, I would make my family seem awful. I'm sure I knew people for whom a statement like this would be true because their parents would have a problem with it, but mine never did. One of the guys in our little gang in high school was the one black guy in my graduating class. (I thought some readers would guess this is true about me for the same reason it's true about Sebastian: like him, I just didn't grow up around a lot of black people.) Anyway, our friend went by the nickname Spud, and one reason we liked hanging out with him was because he lived with just his older brother, who was five or six years older than us (read: old enough to buy beer). So we usually hung out at his place or mine, although sometimes we went to Steve's basement because he had a ping-pong table. At least as far as we knew, Spud was pretty cool about being one of the few black guys in school with us, and would make jokes about being the token, etc. The last I heard of him, he was driving and got hit by a tractor-trailer, and got a huge insurance settlement, so he's probably doing better than I am.

1. I once dated sisters. TRUE

I'm a little disappointed in everyone thinking I couldn't pull this off. Although, on Fitz's recommendation, I left it ambiguous as to timing. I didn't date them simultaneously. But there was overlap, to a degree. Their names were Heather and Amy. Heather was two years older than me, and the brainy, responsible one. Amy was one year older than me, and the wilder, prettier, um...less responsible one. They went to our church but to a different high school. Their mother liked me a lot, but their father didn't care too much for me, I think. Go figure. Anyway, I had known the girls for years, but the first dating-type thing that happened was after a church youth group carol-sing for shut-ins one December. My brother and I were in the sisters' car. (Like us, they had to share a clunker of a car. Theirs was a beige 1976 Buick Skylark.) After visiting a few houses, we broke away from the group and went cruising around. Amy and I were in the backseat. She and my brother shared a bottle of orange Mad Dog 20/20, and I could taste it on her lips. We went out for a bit, and I remember going to that godawful Kevin Costner Robin Hood movie with her. Some time after that, Heather and I went out a few times, but she moved away for college and we lost touch. Amy gave me credit for getting her in to college, because she needed a trigonometry credit, and I tutored her -- I was ahead of her in math even though she was a year ahead of me in school. During that spell, we went out a little again. As far as I know, they never got upset with each other about it. My guess is that it was never that serious for either of them, and they both liked me as a friend, too. The weird thing is that despite how different they were, I still liked them both -- I wish I could have found the perfect combination of the two. So, it wasn't anything major, but I did officially date sisters, so the statement is true. I was a playa. Their dad probably still hates me.



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    Disclaimer

    The views presented here are personal and in no way reflect the view of my employer. In addition, while legal issues are discussed here from time to time, what you read at BTQ is not legal advice. I am a lawyer, but I am not your lawyer. If you need legal advice, then go see another lawyer.

    Furthermore, I reserve (and exercise) the right to edit or delete comments without provocation or warning. And just so we're clear, the third-party comments on this blog do not represent my views, nor does the existence of a comments section imply that said comments are endorsed by me.

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