Amazon Deals

Good marketing works wonders on me. Every online store must love people like me! Even as I write this, I've flipped over to Amazon.com twice to look at the "Today's Deal's" page, even though a new deal isn't due to appear for another hour. Luckily, they sell a lot of DIY equipment, so I'm not buying much, but that doesn't stop me from following the website punctiliously. I hate it when I have to leave for class every day for fear that a great deal will appear as soon as I step out of the door. Then, it's always such a relief when I return home to find that whatever went on sale was some grass-cutting or baby-feeding device. It's Saturday today, so no class, but I did (in a moment of madness) promise a friend that I'd meet her for lunch today. I think I'll have to tell her that I'm too busy studying for finals today.

Exam Season

I bought 11 pairs of shoes today. It really wasn't good for my credit card, and it really wasn't good for my tiny closet, but it had to be done. My girlfriends spend the weeks immediately before exams desperately vacuuming every last speck of dust from their floors and rubbing every piece of metallic-wear until they sparkle. My guy-friends suddenly discover the gym and religiously visit those hallowed halls as if sweating profusely will making God answer their prayers about passing law school exams. I crack jokes and laugh at them, but secretly, I envy them. Once exams are over, they're left with immaculate apartments and muscular bodies while I sit fat and penniless in my unkempt apartment filled with shoes I'll never wear.

Crêpes

Have you ever encountered any problems with the word "crêpes?" I ask because the word seems to be a total mystery in America. A couple of years ago I was walking past a crêpe shop in Santa Monica, Los Angeles, when a guy behind me asked his friend, "What's a creep?" I was so shocked I turned around to make sure it wasn't a child asking the question. Then last night, I told my friend the "creep" story as we sat in a restaurant eating crêpes for dessert. However, my story didn't produce the desired polite laugh, and instead, she popped out with the question/accusation, "I always thought it was crêpes (kr-ay-ps), but you call it crêpes (kr-eh-ps)." I stopped in the middle of cutting my crêpes and looked down at them, wondering whether blowing on the powdered sugar would distract my friend from her searching question. Finally, I shrugged and made some excuse about how all British people butcher French words. When I got home, I immediately sat down before the computer. Google once again came to the rescue, and a happy gloating sensation filled me as I realized that it was the Americans that butchered French words.