koyongi

So last night I decimated a deer with my car.
My airbag punched me in the face, but I'm okay.
My car is not.
More to come.

www.missouri.edu/~defgf3/

Two finals down, one final and one paper to go.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17422250/

This is ridiculous.
This is one of the few reasons I actually read as a kid.
And the FIVE PERSONAL PAN PIZZAS A YEAR you get for reading don't exactly seem to promote childhood obesity...

On another, less fat, note, we murdered K-State in the driving snow on Saturday, fifty-something to nothing.
After our 5-0 victory over Truman in the 6-inch deep mud last weekend.
This weekend, our first real match. KU and OSU in nice weather in KC.

It all started at 9:30 this morning when I got to Trademarks.

Well, actually it started yesterday. Let's start there.
Yesterday we found out that all our collegiate league matches have to be played by the USA Rugby National Collegiate Championship rules. This includes eligibility rules that excludes anyone who's not a Mizzou student (naturally), who's not a full-time student (makes sense), and that started college more than five years ago (getting stupid). So anyway, this left us with only 17 eligible players, and me unable to play. So, our choices were to lie, play short, or forgo our chance to go to Nationals and not play our league matches under the rules. So as of this morning, that's up in the air, pending a meeting after practice tonight.

So I get to trademarks at about 9:25 and read the board. It turns out we don't have class tomorrow, but we DO have a makeup class today at 1. Now Tuesday is supposed to be my easy day – class from 9:30 until 10:45, class from 2-2:50, and practice from 5:30-7:30. So now I have makeup class from 1-1:50. Normally, this wouldn't be that big of a deal, but it means that I have to read for said makeup class and my 2:00 class during a 2-hour break instead of reading for one class in a 3-hour break. Now, normally this, too, would be easy, except that club sports tier forms are due today at 5.

In Mizzou Club Sports, you are separated into four different tiers based on how many people play for your team, how many competitions a year you do, and how much fundraising you do. Your university funding is based on what tier you are. This year, women's rugby is a tier 2, which means that we get $5000 a year, so long as we have more than 20 people, play more than like 15 days a year, and fundraise at least $3000 a year. If the tier form doesn't get in, we are automatically tier 4, and only qualify to get $2000 a year.
I've been working on the tier form since the beginning of the semester, and it's not that hard, except you have to prove everything on the application. This is especially hard, because I've only been treasurer (and pretty much running all administrative aspects of the team – money, roster, entries into tournaments, driving arrangements) for a semester. (Everything before I took over is a big black hole – We missed a tournament last year because someone forgot to pay the entry fee. The tournament we did go to, we forfeited our first game because no one found out it got moved. When I inherited the checkbook, it didn't even have a ledger. I didn't even know which bank we used or how much money we had or where our checks had gone. My first check bounced.) I had already turned in the roster, so I requested a copy of it so I could submit that with the stuff. I get e-mails from the Missouri Rugby Football Union with our schedule for the last two semesters. I've already got numbers for the fundraising, since I'm the treasurer, but I need to get bank statements and the like to prove it. I sent out an e-mail this morning asking the other officers if they got the e-mail we were supposed to get confirming our rosters and competition dates (stuff Club Sports is supposed to keep track of) and if anyone knows where the bank statements from January, February, June, July, August, October, or November are, but still no replies. So I e-mail Christine, who's in charge of rec sports, and is usually pretty helpful, but has been pretty MIA lately.

So, I go to the bank, and make a deposit (fortunately, it took a mere three months to get reimbursed for our gas expenditures from last semester), ask about statements and stuff, and head home. I skim my reading, and start getting the paperwork together for the tier form. Unfortunately, my internet isn't working, so I can't print off our online bank statements or some e-mails I need. That can wait until class. So, I eat some food, read more for class, and head to class.
I spend most of Trademarks half-listening and taking very incomplete notes while looking up our bank statements, and all the e-mails I'll need. Then I head to Evidence. I get the e-mail back from Christine, and apparently they have us down as having 14 members and 6 competition days for the year. This is all wrong. Now, a rugby team is 15 players. We had 29 girls on the roster just last semester. We played 17 days last year. So now I have to find even more documentation about the stuff that Club Sports was supposed to be keeping track of. I'm still sorting through paperwork when coach Nick pops up on googletalk and says “you there?” I reply that I am, and an e-mail notification pops up from him. Well, it's a forward of an e-mail he got. It reads:

“This email is to let you know that MU Ladies still owe MRFU 187.50 from 2006 and USA 150.00 club dues, MO 25.00 per player plus 75.00 for late schedule in 2007. This must all be paid by Thurs.night or you will be unable to play this weekend or any time til it is paid in full.”

Thankfully, I had already navigated the very un-user friendly USA Rugby site to pay our $150 USA Rugby dues. Now, I e-mailed the Missouri Rugby Football Union treasurer a month ago asking about how much we owe and who to pay it to. So did Shelly, the match secretary. We never heard back until today. As you can see from this e-mail, there is no indication of exactly how much we owe, who to ask, or where to send it to. So, I e-mail the guy that e-mailed coach asking about it. His reply is thus:

“Becky you can go to MO's website and get all the info you need. Jan from the Union will respond to any questions you post on the website. She is the one that you need to get this cleared with in order to have any games.”

I obviously have already been to MRFU's website on multiple occasions trying to get this figured out. It hasn't changed any since then. I can't even find where to post questions on the website, so I forward the e-mail exchange to Jan, a MRFU board member whose e-mail IS on the site.

At this point, SMR pops up on google talk as well, asking about something to do with property taxes and licensing and our cars and Phelps County and Boone county and California and stuff, and he's not making much sense, to me at least. Eventually, we get that figured out, and I get back to talking to Coach, who is trying to get himself officially registered as our coach, but can't find our team on the list. I finally figure out that it's because we have a women's team and he's a guy, and he just registers at-large. When he finally gets registered and I finally go to put him as our coach, we find out that he has to have a background check and first aid training and all kinds of other crap on file with USA rugby to be qualified to be listed as our coach. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Keep in mind, I'm still in Evidence, and still trying to write down everything I can possibly catch about Federal Rule of Evidence 803(1) and (2) as the professor is zooming through slides and I'm just hoping I don't get called on.

I get out of class, and head to the computer lab, where I print off rosters and bank statements and checkbook ledgers and e-mails and schedules and everything else I can possibly think of to be documentation for the stupid tier form. Luckily, Jan from MRFU gets back to me rather promptly. I calculate how much we owe, and ask her if I write a check for that amount and send it out today if we'll be good.

So I go home, and start compiling paperwork. I'm highlighting and writing and adding and subtracting and stapling and collating and e-mailing. I finally finish up all the documentation for the tier form, as best I can do. It's not exhaustive, but it's enough to qualify us to stay in tier 2. Jan writes back that I need to send the money to the MRFU treasurer (the one I e-mailed a month ago that never got back to me). I write a check (which is pretty much all the money I deposited earlier in the day – it's a good thing that check came when it did, or we wouldn't have been able to pay), and a strongly worded letter to the treasurer of MRFU, explaining about how it's not our fault this is last-minute, because she never replied to any of my e-mails, and I enclose a copy of today's e-mail exchange with various MRFU officers and a copy of the e-mail I sent her over a month ago asking about how to pay all our stuff. At this point, it's about 4:45.

I get all my stuff together and head out the door. I make it to the post office in time, drop the MRFU payment off, and head to the rec center. There's a basketball game tonight, so streets are kinda full. I was so stressed out, I also almost ran over a few pedestrians. I park my car, head into the rec center, go to the Club Sports office, and go to Christine's office. I walk in, drop my box of rugby shorts and socks (did I mention I'm in charge of that too?) and rugby paperwork on the chair, dig out the tier application, and as I'm putting it on her desk she says, “I can't take that.” I say, “You're kidding. Why?” She says, “It's after 5:00.” It's 5:12. I drop the papers on the desk and say “You have no idea the day I've had.” I proceed to explain everything that's happened, and she just says “It would be unfair for me to take it.”

I say “I'm going to leave this right here because I don't want to look at it anymore,” pick up my box, and walk out. It's everything I can do to not throw the box at the wall, and as soon as I get out of the office, I burst into tears. I'm sobbing as I walk down the hall, and I finally collapse in a corner with my face in my hands. I sit there for a few minutes until I can compose myself somewhat, because I don't want to walk through the entire rec center with snot and tears running down my face. I go out to the field where practice will be, sit by a fence and cry while I send text messages saying “I'm having the worst day ever.”

Then I get a text message from Christine saying that I can appeal to the Club Sports Executive Committee if I want. Thanks. Every time someone comes over to talk to me, I start sobbing. Jackie gave me a big hug, and that helped a little.

I made it through practice, and it was pretty fun, because it's the first time we've been outside all semester. By 6:00, I could tell the story of my day without crying. Michelle says that we'll probably be able to win the appeal, which is good, but it's just one more thing I have to do tonight. We had a meeting after practice, and everyone pretty much agreed that we should play as a team and forget about Westerns, which I'm happy about, but I'm kinda sad that they won't get to go.

But anyway, that was my day.

So last week I reported that I set PRs in squat and bench.
Well, last night I set a new squat PR. 20 pounds more than last week.
Yay!

Today I finished my externship textbook and now I'm gonna go return it.
I'm a broke little girl.

I was just on facebook looking at my brother's ex-wife's pictures.
It kinda made me sick.
But I guess I have no room to talk...

Just so everyone knows, I've done PRs on squat and bench this week.
245 on squat, and I could have gone higher, if I trusted my spotter...
175 on bench, finally.

Grades are in and I think I'm finally getting the hang of this law school thing!

Constitutional Law - 85
Antitrust - 86
Intellectual Property - 88
International Law - 81

If you'll remember, last semester my grades ranged from a 77 to 82, and my first semester was even worse.
My GPA this semester was an 85, which brough my cumultive GPA up 2 whole points to an 80.682.
And my rank is going to go up by 10 or 15 spots.
I'm happy.
Very happy.

Time to go deadlift.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Rejection letter from Shook, Hardy, and Bacon.
Now I have to start looking again.

I've just had one of the most random days ever.
Let's start at about 6 last night.
I had some friends in town and we went to the Rockhurst-Rock Bridge game.
We went out to eat afterwards, and then came back to my apartment to crash, because I had to be at the pitch to leave at 5, and they had to leave at 7.
About midnight, Caitlyn wakes up and says "um, guys, the door is open" (my door sometimes doesn't latch when you close it). I ask her if the cats are still inside, and she says yes. I'm laying there feeling relieved when she says, "well, the big black and white one is here, but I don't see the little one."
So, I proceeded to spent the next three hours looking under cars and yelling for Selena. I even went to far as to run an extension cord outside and have the printer by the front door making copies (Selena loves the printer).
At about 3:00, I gave up, made some "Lost Cat" posters, put them up around the neighborhood, got my stuff together, and headed to the pitch.
We took about three hours to make it to Western Illinois University, but it took the rest of the cars another two hours.
I rode with the coach (in his sweet Audi), and he told me that since I'm probably a lot stronger than the other girls, I should be concentrating on ripping the ball away from them.
AND IT WORKED.
I stripped at least 15 balls today and should have scored two trys, but the sir was a retard.
He called the first one held up (it wasn't), and he said that I went down before I placed the ball (I didn't).
Either way, we lost 10-5 and it was a ripoff. But I had the game of my life.
After the match, I checked my phone and had two messages from people saying that they'd seen Selena and she had run up a tree.
So, when I got home at about 6:30, sure enough, Selena was up a tree. Like 40 feet in the air. A very large tree with no branches for at least 20 feet.
I spent a couple of hours out there trying to coax her down. She obviously wanted to come down, as she'd been up there since before 10, but she didn't know how.
I called animal control, but they wouldn't help me.
So then I did the most cliche thing possible.
I called the fire department.
The guy answered, and I was like "This is going to sound really cliche, but do you guys actually get cats out of trees?"
He said sometimes they did, and he sent a truck over with three strapping young firefighters.
They got out a big ladder, leaned it up the tree, and one of them went up to get Selena. So of course, she ran away from him.
Then I had to go get a can of tuna out of my apartment, and I got to hold the searchlight while a second firefighter took the tuna up to the first one. After a few minutes, Selena finally got close enough to the firefighter that he could bring her down (and all the while one of my neighbors was watching and giving a play by play "she's about five feet from him now. she's moving toward him. now she's moving away from him.)...
They gave me my kitty, I continued to feel extremely ridiculous, and then I brought my motor-oil and dirt-covered kitty inside.

Then I took a shower and now I'm going to bed.

For all of you out there who are scared...
I also benched 150 last night for 6 sets of 4.
I was doing more than the guys at the other four benches.
It pretty much made my night.

And all that after giving blood 6 hours earlier.

Tonight I squatted 215 for 6 sets of 4.
It's my best squat night ever.
Again.

We played a game called Rumbleball last night at rugby practice.
It's like rugby, but without the backs.
It's the greatest game ever.
But, I'm also more sore and more bruised than I was after the actual match...

Update:
I interview on the 25th.
They're gonna take me to dinner and put me up in a hotel, and then interview me in the morning...
I'm psyched.
Now...what to wear?

I watched Monday night football with some of the Mizzou football players last night.
It was pretty fun.

I got a callback today from Shook, Hardy, and Bacon, the KC IP firm I interviewed with last month...
I'm excited.

So here's an e-mail I got from my mom today.



From: Cassie Schmidt <cassie@avenuegifts.info>
Date: Sep 6, 2006 1:41 PM
Subject: Pregnant?
To: Bicky <koyongi@gmail.com>

One of my customers said they heard you were pregnant. Did you forget to tell me?



The weird thing is that I had a dream the other night where I was.
Huh.

Ways to make yourself an unwelcome houseguest.
1. Break my toilet paper holder (like rip-out-the-drywall-break).
2. Cook a steak dinner in my kitchen without asking (and don't make me any).
3. Somehow get butter on the side of the cabinet while doing so.
4. Leave the dishes in the sink with grease baked on that will take weeks to get off.
5. Try to have sex with me after I've repeatedly said "no".
6. Repeatedly insist that you are the coolest person in Missouri.
7. Dislike McNally's.
8. Like Quinton's.
9. Be late to work out.
10. *GO THROUGH THE BOX NEXT TO MY BED WHILE I'M IN CLASS AFTER BEING INSTRUCTED NOT TO DO SO.*
11. Touch me repeatedly and in a very annoying manner when I've made it very clear I do not want to be touched.
12. Throw up when I buy you a shot of Jameson's.
13. Slam my arm in a sliding patio door.
14. Threaten my friends if they call me to come to afterbars.
15. Not go home when you say you will.

So that was most of my weekend...

Four days down, a whole lot to go.

So I'm making a habit of working out before my 3:00 class, then sitting by the pool at the rec center while I read for my afternoon class.
When I'm not reading, I enjoy people-watching, because what else is there to do?
I have noticed a couple of things.
Only like 2% of the patrons of Truman's Pond are overweight.
At least 80% are disgustingly tan.
Less than 10% are male.
Even less than that have tattoos, and of those, at least 90% are male.
Somehow, I fall into the superminority of not-incredibly-tan-more-than-one-tattoo-not-incredibly-thin-female.

It's funny, because when I was deadlifting in the weight room in a wife-beater, I feel happy to have inherited so much of my genetics from my dad's side.
Then I get outside in a swimsuit, and I suddenly wish I'd have gotten more of the effortlessly-tiny genes from my mom's side.

Stupid Mizzou.