Wait, Memo One was due this week? I had no idea... Just kidding! But, at least it's over. You made it! Congratulations!

Now that the stress of the first writing assignment has subsided, you can move on to worrying about the really important things - like your reputation. Many 1Ls have made the wrong move their first semester of law school and the thought of being a law school social outcast has produced most disastrous results: transfers, nose jobs, shaved heads, and, worst of all, drop-outs. But worry not, dear ones, I am here to personally ensure none of you suffer the same fate.

About a year ago, the Class of 2011's Section 11 was sitting in Torts learning the law of products liability. We were discussing a case involving a man who, despite the large, colorful labels and warnings, had removed the guards encasing the blades of his electric power saw. Needless to say, this Einstein injured himself, and of course he sued the manufacturer (otherwise the genius' litigation would have never made it into our casebook). I sat there in complete disbelief that judicial resources were even wasted on such a ridiculous claim by a clearly ridiculous individual when our professor began to pose hypotheticals about similar products liability situations. Torts is the ultimate class for hypotheticals - the possibilities are absolutely endless. In any event, the professor introduced the concept of misuse as a manufacturer's defense to products liability claims. He explained that there was a seemingly harmless product a while back that had stormed onto the cosmetics scene and had become all the craze in women's nail care. Naturally, this product was not intended as a moisturizer for human hands, but nothing comes between a woman and her mani/pedis (after all, Foxy Brown went to jail after violating her probation for slapping her manicurist in the head).

What is this elusive cosmetic creation? Hoof cream. Yes, the kind that is used on horses. The professor asked if anyone was familiar with this product and a lone, pale hand slowly began to elevate from the front right corner of the classroom. This naïve student confirmed the incredible moisturizing effect of this "hoof cream" and admitted to using the product herself. Big mistake, girlfriend. She quickly became known as "hoof cream girl," and the name has stuck. Is that how you want to be remembered? As some unfortunate example in torts class?

The threat is not only apparent during products liability discussions, but reaches across all law school courses (of course, torts is probably the most dangerous). I only narrowly escaped an unfortunate nickname similar to that of "hoof cream girl." In discussing animal liability, the most common perpetrators are often dogs, cats, birds, and any other usual household pet. Not anymore. In February of this year, a pet chimpanzee named Travis attacked a 55-year-old woman who was bringing the animal an orange toy in an effort to help his 70-year-old owner calm him after the tea laced with Xanax failed to adequately tranquilize the beast. There are so many things wrong with that sentence. First of all, a chimpanzee as a pet? Come on. It's like the owner wanted to end up in Richard Epstein's Cases and Materials on Torts. Second, chimpanzees are not small so what is a 70-year-old woman doing caring for Travis? Finally, tea laced with Xanax!? Really?! However, the mistakes of Travis' owner are not of my concern here. There is a lesson to be learned that has nothing to do with strict liability for animal owners.

This national geographic nightmare occurred in Stamford, Connecticut. Guess where I'm from. Stamford, Connecticut. Could you imagine what would have happened to me in torts had this gorillas-gone-wild scenario taken place a mere six months earlier? I would have been sitting in class, oblivious to the downward spiral my life was about to take, and the professor would have asked if anyone was from Connecticut. Clueless, I would have raised my hand and confirmed my residency. Then, I would have been asked if I had ever owned a chimpanzee and if it had ever attacked anyone. The chuckles, snickers, and giggles would have been uncontainable. Bottom line: I would have been "Chimpanzee Chick" throughout my entire law school career. Awesome.

Thus, be careful when you volunteer an experience in class. You could be committing social suicide.