Over breakfast Carson cleared his throat, stammered a bit, and revealed to me that he is divorced. And has a child.
There’s a reason dating a lawyer from your firm is unanimously frowned on by management, mothers, girlfriends, and shrinks.
I felt it necessary to represent female law students everywhere with this list of the types of men we girls are forced to turn to for arousal in dire straits.
Why have I been cursed with the following completely useless set of characteristics? I’m too hot for the courtroom; I’m not hot enough in a bar.
I might not die alone, clutching a dog-eared copy of Eat, Pray, Love, after all. I have a newfound source of hope. And I owe my appreciation to the most unlikely of impetuses for discovering it: Watching a Cincinnati Bengals game. I’m not referring to the substance of the game itself. Besides, the final minute…
Saturday night, I received a gleeful call from my best friend from college to report that she just got engaged to her wonderful boyfriend. They met when they were seated next to one another by chance at a destination wedding two years ago. Then this morning, I got a gleeful call from my little sister. …
Female big firm lawyers must withstand many tests of emotional constitution in order to earn enough respect to be accepted as one of the guys
I’ve figured out the secret to avoiding psychological self-implosion and irreparable burnout in the hellish world of BigLaw.
I actually feel really, really badly for Jessica Simpson. Mainly because she and I have a hell of a lot in common.
All I can do is hope that there is a special circle of hell reserved for insurance execs, where they spend eternity in an endless Jenga competition