Meow, hiss, scratch, etc.

Friday night, I was as close as I've ever been to getting into a cat fight.

Which isn't saying much, but still.

Now imagine that you're hearing windchime-like music that takes you back to yester-year (in this case, like a month ago.) The j-school has set up a happy hour with the law school. Everything is hunky-dory until one girl writes on the Facebook event, "Journalism?" Another law student jokes about how journalism people think they can keep up with the law school kids (in terms of drinking) and they're gonna show us j-school people how to drink (lol, winky face, other emoticons symbolizing a joke).

At which point, the first girl responds with, AND I QUOTE:

"I'd drink too if I was paying for an education that led me to a dying field with no job prospects or financial security."

WHOOOOAAAAAAAAA.

Can we just agree that that statement is all kinds of wrong? Because I could write for the rest of the night about how we're all actually being PAID to be here and journalism is far from dying, much less how there are more people in law school right now than actual LAWYERS in America.

Anyways, this sparked a bit of a semi-joking, semi-evil back-and-forth (I seem to be very hyphen-happy tonight) between the two groups of students, essentially ending in the journalism kids wishing the law students good luck with the crushing debt they'll face in three years. Although it was a very classy debate, I managed to keep my wiseass mouth shut and took no part (except mentally) in the bickering.

Now windchime back to this Friday night.

My darling law school roommate Tina invites me out with her law friends to a grill where they were showing the Carrier Classic. I agree and off we go.

While watching the game with what seemed like the whole law school, I turn to the girl next to me to start conversation... "Are you a 1L, too?" I ask, with all the charm and adorableness in which I approach everything in life. "Why yes, I am....blahblahblah." We talk for a couple minutes, eventually getting to how I'm in the journalism program.

She brings up the law school/ j-school Facebook event and then insists on introducing me to the girl that started it all, who happens to be standing behind me looking like a hot mess. "No, no that's really not necessary. Seriously. We don't have to do that," I say, to no avail.

Once we're introduced, the girl (who has had a beverage or two) exclaims, "OH MY GAAWWWDDDDD, I HATE you journalism people!"

I'm sorry...do you know me? No. But now that you're about to, I'll make sure your hate is justified.

So somehow we get to the subject of me looking for an internship. "Hopefully it'll turn into a job offer," I say.

"We don't HAVE thosssse," homegirl says.
"Job offers?" I ask with my best "I had no idea that sounded bitchy" look on my face.
"Uhhhhh, no," she replies. "Internships."
*Smirk*

This continues on for a while, me feeling more and more vindicated as homegirl starts to realize that her inebriation level leaves something to be desired, and that my perfect storm of journalistic skills, sobriety and smartass genes makes me much better with words.

She later goes on and on about how she's a Penn State fan and Joe Paterno is a legend. I ask how this has anything to do with my program and she says he's getting fired because of the media, and my program "is the media." I look forward to her career as a lawyer.

Through the ten minute stream of accusations and sheer hatred, I did my best Sorority Cindy impression by smiling and pretending to be patient with this numbnut. In fact, all that was running through my mind was my mother saying I can never hit first, and subsequently two words:

SWING, BITCH.

Oh, it would have felt so good. But alas, I cruised home on the high road, and that is where the story of my first almost-fight ends.