I had a dream last night that Bęthberry made a facebook event for a midwest-moot and put me in charge. I kept insisting this was a bad idea because when I'm in charge it ends with everyone drunk on vodka and rum eating cheese and crackers. I'm pretty sure I even cried, but she refused to be swayed by my tears, judging them inadequate for getting out of planning a moot.
I woke up feeling miserable and a little mad at Bęthberry. And then I thought a midwest-moot would be fun, but I'd need to bribe someone to plan it because it'll end in drunk BDers stuffed on crackers and cheese if I do.
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"Let us live so that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry." - Mark Twain
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