About a week ago I was leaving work when A called. I was going to a bar in the French Quarter to meet some friends, and while she filed papers in her office and I headed across Canal Street, we talked about our days (this is usually the favorite part of my day). I mentioned something about the trial I was working on, our chances, and how I hoped
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also, if the law school thing really looks like a possibility, you would not go amiss getting in touch with tim garrison at PSU--used to be a DA somewhere in kentucky prosecuting the Klan mostly...now does legal history focused on how the indians got screwed out of their land. and loves getting PSU students into law school.
and lastly--if they still have that bar in the faubourg marigny (charlie's, i think it was), where you can have a beer and do your laundry at the same time, it's worth a visit
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I've drank in the backseat of cars, in the front seat of cars, on the sidewalk and on the bus. My drier crapped out this morning. The Laudromat is the next logical step.
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