The next morning, my Dad, God love him, forwarded me two Craigslist ads for paralegal positions. Coffee cup in hand, Office Space-ing a copier with my slow-pitch softball bat came to mind. But, I assumed my Dad’s “get some sense” emails would peter out like Jonathan Taylor Thomas’ acting career. I assumed. Rather, it took a strong, yet polite text message to convince my Dad I would rather stick shoots of bamboo up my fingernails than file a demurrer with the San Diego Superior Court.