Shirt Tales

The other day at work (and by the other day, I mean back in May), I had to designate experts for trial; it sounds good, but it was me helping the paralegal put “Plaintiff’s Exhibit ‘A’” on expert reports. Good fun. This involved a bunch of piles of paper on the floor which I had to lean over a pick up. Our chairs are designed with an inexplicable (though someone will likely explic it) bulge near the bottom. It isn’t a gentle lumbar-shaped buldge, but a sharp jutting-out. This pulled on the back of my shirt, so that every ten or minutes, I ended up with a Kelso tuck. As much fun as it is to look like Big Randy the Baby Daddy, I didn’t think the look was for me (I don’t roll like Kelso). This made me have to constantly look around before sticking my hand down the back of my pants to fix them (at least my shirt stayed tuck in the front).

Another fun situation happened earlier this week when I went to the bathroom (I know that sentence looks bad, but deal with it). I went to the sink to wash my hands and apparently leaned against the counter in the process. Little did I know, but someone had splashed so much water onto the counter that there was standing puddle; it looked like someone tried to baptize a cat. This caused a lovely dark, wet spot right across the front of my pants, just a little bit below the waist. I don’t know much about the practice of law, but I’m pretty sure being branded a pants wetter is a bad thing. To say the least, it won’t make me seem more like Miles Davis. This left me with the Hobbsean choice between violating every law in the business-casual universe by covering the spot with my shirt tail, or looking like a big-better, bed-wetter like Cory Cougar. I ultimately decided to opt for the sloppy-but-in-control-of-my-bladder look. If someone saw me and got mad about my shirt, they might confront me, allowing me to disarm them with the witty story you are now reading. If someone saw me and thought I had gone number one on myself, they probably would have said nothing, told everyone about the incident, fire me and burn my chair.

In addition to my pointless blather, I have an interesting medical fact. When reading a case about a guy faking an injury to sue an airline, the case stated that a doctor had treated Mr. Robinson for cervical injuries when he was a child. This, much to my surprise, referred to neck problems. I want to give credit to Mandrew for having the courage/lack of foresight to put “cervical” into a google search on his work computer (unlike you slackers at the “God-forsaken hell-hole” DA’s office or the Valley, which actually is Hell, they monitor our internet traffic).