Pretend this is taking place in front of Dartmouth or something.
When we last met, I had just reached home after scaling a two-mile hill while clad in pseudo-Goth shit. It wasn't too fun. Unfortunately, I had to do it the next day too. What made it worse is that literally 5 minutes before I had to leave for campus (Class starts at noon on Tuesdays, so that's a bonus; I'm never one to pass up the chance to lounge), I stub my toe. Really, really, fucking hard. And I end up breaking it.
What the fishsticks am I supposed to do now? I have decent shoes now, so the age of Uggs hath ended, but I have no means of transport, since I don't have a car.
Apparently, the answer is downing four ibuprofen, putting 6 pairs of socks on my injured foot, and hobbling downhill like I have Nerf legs. I looked like I was reenacting the Ministry of Silly Walks skit from Monty Python.
I finally make it to class, two minutes before it starts. Today's first (and only) class is Statistics. Now, I'm not a math person, but for some reason, I was able to remain oddly interested and engaged. Well, that might be because of the professor, who was either REALLY GODDAMN EXUBERANT, or the loudest person on the planet. Also, her face looked like it was one big melanoma.
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There was a wine glass in this picture, too, but she shattered it.
I hitch a ride home with Carter (my friend from the first blog), and I sleep the rest of the day to get my mind off the pain. I wake up 14 hours and several ice packs later, so that I can get a ride to school in time for class. Time for another round of History. I'm not too excited, because it means I gotta deal with Queen Cunt again. Or so I thought... (not so subtle foreshadowing)
After a few more demeaning YouTube music videos about ancient events (I'm not linking them this time; this is for your own good), I begin to construct my FACE OF RAPT ATTENTION!
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Sorta like this, but less gorilla-like.
Usually, it works like a charm, but since Granny Egypt here decides to derail the RL thread and argue with two Swedes in the back of the room about whether the 49'ers were better than the Seahawks (wtf?), I quickly get bored with this little charade. I then start to focus on the raging debate going on between student and teacher. I don't know shit about sports, but it was hilarious to watch my professor struggle in vain against the valiant Swedish bastion of logic. I don't know who these two guys were, but they were just amazingly quick thinkers. Eventually, the argument subsides, with Swedes A and B emerging as the victors. The rest of the class is spent studying the Fertile Crescent, with the professor trying to make jabs at Sweden at every possible time. I think she was just ornery because she had to shell out 25 cents to the winning team; something about the Niners not winning a game or something. I dunno, sports aren't my forte.
At last, the clock strikes 10, and class is adjourned. I shakily rise and begin to leave, but a hand on my shoulder stops me. It's the teacher, who asks me why I was texting in class. I'm a bit discombobbed at this, since I don't ever text, but I realize she's talking about my blood-glucose meter that I used during the debate. When I explain to her that I have type 1 diabetes (I'll probably talk about this more in a future blog), she immediately drops the sternness that until now had comprised her image, lowering her voice with it. She tells me that she knows a lot of students who have diabetes, and that she herself has a relative with the condition. Apparently, she's partial to diabetics, so she apologizes for her bluntness and sends me on my way.
Maybe she's not so bad after all. I feel kinda guilty for calling her Queen Cunt before. =(
Next up is English. Again, Carter is there, along with another student I had befriended the day before. I'll call this fellow Arky. Our assignment is to discuss something about some essays and write something about something else. I don't really remember, because I'm too busy defending my position to Carter and Arky about how Britney Spears would thrash Christina Aguilera in a bar fight. Don't ask how that topic came up. Also, I think Carter mentioned ebola virus somewhere, but I can't for the life of me remember the context. I'm sure it was relevant to my pop star brawl discussion somehow.
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One of them has a broken beer stein behind their back. I won't say which.
FUCK, now I gotta climb back home... T_T
And that concludes part 2 of my college adventures. Hope you guys enjoyed it; more is to come later on.
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Oh, and for those wondering where the love story part comes in, there wasn't one. I was trying to choose between that title and "College: The Sequel" for my blog title, and the former seemed to be more provocative. If you're really starving for some romance, I'll be a gentleman and provide this scene from Titanic. May it satisfy your collective raging libido.
EDIT: I just went to the kitchen, and HOLY FUCKING SHIT BALLS we have a new toaster! It's orange and ugly and fuck!