Thursday, February 12, 2009

This legal brief brought to you by the fine folks at the Coca-Cola Company of America

Going into the kitchen on my floor at work at 6 pm and looking at the bin for aluminum recyclables is mildly terrifying. You non-lawyers have no idea how much caffeine goes into making your legal system function (and the can bin doesn't even account for the tea and coffee).

Monday, February 09, 2009

Small consolation

Last week was pretty hectic work-wise, and I churned out 3 fairly substantial research projects in the course of the week, all of which were passed on to the client as I finished them. Spending a week working late doing nothing but research memos is undoubtedly a drag. But there is something oddly gratifying about seeing one's work in PDF format. It has such a sense of finality and officiality to it.

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Christian Bale will destroy you

On the radio today, I learned that Christian Bale apparently does not have patience for directors of photography who distract him by walking in the background while he is filming a scene. Hence, this tirade from the set of Terminator: Salvation. Amusingly, Bale -- who normally stays in character during a shoot -- is so angry that his American John Connor accent is blending with his natural Welsh accent into a geographically indistinct mishmash of absolute rage. Lesson: if you cross Christian Bale he will destroy you (and, subsequently, his own reputation, on the Internet...and this is not the first time that's happened).

Effective advertising

Apparently PETA's proposed Super Bowl ad was too hot for NBC (which also rejected an ad from the comically absurd Ashley Madison married personals website). So I had to see for myself:

I'm not convinced enough to become a vegetarian. But I do hate PETA slightly less than I did before.

Save me

My office officially sounds like the sick ward of a prisoner of war camp. The sounds of wet, hacking coughs and gut-busting sneezes and tissue-rending nose blows seem to emerge from the ethers on all sides. There are moans that make me think someone has had a leg amputated. And closing my door is an exercise in futility, because all the air from the vents is recirculated anyhow.

If I don't make it, tell my family I... *hack*