Monday, April 23, 2012

College: A Wrap Up. (And Also Boobies.) Part One!


Disclaimer: If you’re here for a story about boobs, that’s not until the end of part three, so you should probably come back in a couple weeks.

I’m going to attempt to sum up my college experience. Some people reading this may already know most of this, so if you want to skip to part three, wait a couple weeks.

Last year I was in my senior year of high school and I was starting to get responses from the schools I had applied to.

Due to bad luck, I only got to take the SATs once, despite my intentions to do it at least two more times.

I got rejected from half of the schools I applied to. Kind of. I technically got rejected from all of them (because I’m a moron and I didn’t pick a backup school) but UConn never responded to me at all, so I’m not going to admit that they rejected me. I’d like to think I got wait-listed and then there was a small fire that destroyed any evidence of my possible acceptance.

Anyway, I cried to the school counselor and she told me that another student had applied to Rhode Island College late and got in.

So I threw together a shitty application, had my guidance counselor fax it over, and got a call a couple days later saying that I was accepted.

Looking back, I probably should have tried this with URI so I could have been with my friends, but I had the crazy idea that I could make new friends and double the amount of friends I had.

THIS IS WHY I DON’T GAMBLE!

I had maybe two friends. Three at best.

I was fucking one (more on that in a bit), the other lived off campus, so I only saw him two or three times, and the other I didn’t hang out with until right before I dropped out. And then I never really heard from her again.

That part of college sucked. I’m pretty sure I have some form of social anxiety. I’m the kind of person that would hide in the bathroom with a bottle of vodka until I was drunk enough to be around new people.

I tried talking to people a couple of times, but I seemed to scared them away.

Exhibit A: (This is briefly mentioned in a previous post, but this is a recap post, so I’m including it. I think it’s a lot more in-depth, but you can skip it if you want.)

I was in Spanish one day and one of the girls in the class had talked to me a couple times. So I decided I should initiate conversation.

This came in the most unusual form ever.

I was flipping through my Spanish textbook when suddenly I saw the funniest thing in the history of Spanish textbooks.



See that? Look close. At his butt.

It’s a buttcrack. After seeing this, I promptly sent it to everyone in my contacts.

It wasn’t a shock to most of my friends. I send weird stuff like that all the time.

Anyway, the girl (Lindsay) was sitting in front of me that day. So I tapped her back and said “Turn to page 75 of the textbook. He has a buttcrack!!”

And she did. Then she said “Oh. That’s really funny. I never would have noticed that.”

I thought I had finally done it. I thought it was the perfect way to make a friend. And when you make a friend through a buttcrack, that is a friend for life.

But then she didn’t sit near me for two weeks.

I thought I had blown it. Buttcracks are usually a hit or miss, and I had missed.

And then the unthinkable happened.

She sat near me again a few weeks later and we ended up doing a worksheet together.

Part of the worksheet was putting your desired future career into Spanish.

My real answer was “Undercover lingual agent for the CIA” but I didn’t want to put that into Spanish, so I panicked and said “Uhh…Playboy?”

SHE LOOKED HORRIFIED.

I was all “Maybe? Maybe not. My real answer is complicated. Honestly, I’m not taking Spanish ever again after this semester, so I don’t care if anyone thinks I want to pose in Playboy. I probably never will.”

Lindsay: “Oh…Well, my answer is complicated too. Let’s just look up your answer too.”

And then she never sat next to me again. In fact, she sat on the polar opposite side of the room. In fact, she sat on the polar opposite side of the room for the rest of the semester.



Exhibit B: Hot guy makes fun of me for using so much cream and sugar in my coffee.

Despite a gorgeous guy clearly hitting on me, I just say “Black coffee is icky.”

He laughed, and he was clearly still interested, but I had a really bad day (rain, Psychology, Italian, bitchy-evil-Satan-spawn roommate, etc.) that I JUST WALKED AWAY.

I hate myself sometimes. I really do.

2 comments:

  1. I tried black coffee, it was icky. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but I deffintly will not try it again in the future.

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    Replies
    1. That's because most all you 'mericans don't know how to make a decent cuppa coffee :p

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