Mock Trial is ruining my life.

There is some unholy power in the world, and it makes me wake up at 8:00 on a Saturday, bleary and dehydrated from Friday-night revelry, to apply pantyhose to my legs and then walk a half mile through the slush in my heels.

I missed breakfast.  This made me cranky.  I was the cross-examiner you never want to face, the one who's confused, floundering, can't say esses because her tongue is dry, and is flailingly belligerent anyway.   It was a fifteen minute cross.  I felt disgusting afterwards.  I mean, I have excuses, besides my irritated physical and mental states, we switched a new witness in on prosecution, and most of my original cross damaged her credibility, so I was working ex tempore, so to speak.  So I sat down and wrote myself a new and better cross for the rest of the trial, creating a logical proof that should destroy the expert's credibility beyond all repair, allowing me to gracefully voir dire the witness during direct examination.

So.  That was my morning.  And I still haven't had breakfast, because once you've gone long enough without eating, it starts to feel like too much work to get up and make some eggs and toast.