Jerk n Goose

Last night, I returned from Lexington after spending the day with opposing counsel–one looks like a Jerk, another looks like Goose, therefore I will call them Jerk n’ Goose. After spending 7 hours with them dealing with their bullshit and engaging in verbal warfare, I was happy to finally be leaving Lexington and, more particularly, to be leaving the company of Jerk n’ Goose. I was able to procure an earlier flight home, and I happily boarded the first leg of my flight to Charlotte.

By the time I boarded the flight, I had already changed out of my, “Don’t f*ck with me” suit–the same suit that makes me look somewhat less like a law student and more like a lawyer. I was comfortably dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a college sweatshirt, and ready to retire in my oh-so-uncomfortable plane seat. I was prepared to slide into fetal position and rest my head on the window of the plane to fall into a horribly unpleasant but yet-so-satisfying nap. The plane lands and I rise out of my torture seat to see, across the aisle, Jerk n’ Goose, who are still in their Brooks Brother gear. I waved hello and bolted out of the airplane, cursing the fact that Jerk n’ Goose had now seen me in less-than-professional clothing.

I then ran through the terminal (if you ever fly on US Airways, you will realize that 50% of the people in the US Airways terminal are running at full speed to get to their next flight). I stopped at Sbarro to pick up a quick meal and guess who I see? Jerk n Goose–because of course, out of the hundreds of choices at Charlotte airport, they decide that Sbarro is the way to go. (Side note — has anyone thought Sbarro was actually Sharro? They really need to close the “b” on their logo. Bastards. Making me feel stupid . . .)

Next time I see them, they will probably carry smug grins on their faces, in an attempt to intimidate me. Try me Jerk n’ Goose. I may look young. I may enjoy the comfort of sweats. I may eat crappy Italian food. But at least I don’t look like an asshole. So take a look in the mirror my friend — and realize that you belong on the Island and that you can bite me.


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Filed under Legal Woes, Life

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