Arr, the Barrr

I had genuine optimism about spending the summer wrapping up the I Fought the Law comic strip in a satisfying way and setting the stage for its next incarnation, but the likelihood of me posting anything on the Inter-web that isn't somehow related to the bar exam for the next two months is becoming increasingly slim. I have a stupid little cartoon that I drew on some hotel stationery (-ary?) that may find its way into the digital universe if I ever gather the energy to hook up my scanner again. But as usual I make no promises.

This is not to say that I'll be blogging regularly about my bar adventures, either. For that kind of dedication I direct you here, a blog which I may have discovered earlier if Cement Horizon still told me who links to me (not that I'm complaining, I just miss it is all). I met the alliteratively initialed woman behind the blog this morning during break. She appears to have brother and sister dogs. I have brother and sister cats. It's like we're vaguely similar in some ways.

I also had golf lesson number two today. I was extremely agitated for the hour or so leading up to the lesson since I was stressed about all the crap I had to do today that didn't involve golf, but I came away from the lesson feeling surprisingly relaxed and refreshed. All this despite the back pain and the excessive man-handling by my Miyagi-esque instructor. No farts today, though, which was good. I suspect that golf will cease to be at all relaxing the minute I step off the driving range (where there is no failure) and onto the course (where there is aught but failure).

The BarBri Property lecturer has a daughter named Remington. Who does that?