I am sitting here, trying to block out the sounds of the XBOX (a machine that is living up to its full potential only when streaming episodes of Say Yes to the Dress) while I bask in my last night of freedom before the next chapter in The Book of Corinne (very similar to the book of Mormon, but with a lot less Joseph Smith and waaaaaay more levels of heaven).
Tomorrow is my first day of class at Oregon State University. I’m crazy excited, but honestly I’m a little nervous, too. I’ve spent the last 3 years rocking community college. I even gave birth to two children without taking time off and managed to do pretty well – and I’m not even a genius! (See the end of this post for evidence.)
But I’m shaking a little in my snowboots at the prospect of going to big girl school while also being a wife, the mother of two busy boy children, and a dedicated rater of webpages. I’m expecting OSU to be much harder than good ole Blue Mountain Community College and I’m nervous I may fail, weep while trying to write papers, or finally discover that I am supremely stupid.
Maybe something that will make me feel a little more confident is to take a moment to marinate in a few very special memories, while also saying goodbye to some cherished co-students. Won’t you sit with me in a freezer bag filled with the barbeque sauce of my experiences?
1. Goodbye, T-Rex Man
In case you don’t frequent Blue Mountain Community College, T-Rex Man is an adult male with the social skills of a really annoying 6 year old, who also happens to be missing most of his arms.
I know I sound like an enormous a-hole for making fun of someone who was born with so little by way of arms, but this dude is rumored to be a sex offender (although the logistics of it puzzle me) and is pretty much always trying to force me to have a conversation with him while I’m quite obviously taking exams. (Chatting = cheating = YOU DO NOT PASS).
So goodbye, T-Rex Man. I’m sorry about your arms and your social skills. Please stop talking to me or I may be forced to pull out my conversational weapons of destruction, which are basically furrowed eyebrows and asking you to stop talking to me, followed by the acceptance of your lengthy and awkward apologies.
2. Goodbye, Girl Who Snores When She’s Awake
I took a Spanish class the summer before B.T. was born but I didn’t learn much because the loud snoring of one of my classmates drowned out most of the words coming out of my instructor’s mouth. When this girl was awake, her breathing sounded like snoring. When she was asleep, which happened frequently and spontaneously, the snoring was kicked up a couple of volumes (like, all the way to 11). The instructor’s frustration told me she probably didn’t have narcolepsy or some other pre-approved disease that made it okay for her to drown out every other sound in the universe. Maybe she had an awful illness and was keeping it a secret. OMG. Secret narcolepsy.
Goodbye, Snoring Senorita. I give you my props for trying to get a college education even though it’s probably really hard to concentrate over all that noise.
3. Goodbye, Class Full of Humans Too Young to Attend College
I have nothing against the next generation, but referring to a college class as “this period” and heckling over whether or not you did the homework is so 15 years ago, which incidentally is the last time I heckled about homework. I, too, was kind-of a huge jerk in high school, but now I’m in my 30s and pretty well over the heckling stage. Really the only things I heckle about these days are stories about poop (I know it’s not classy, but I really can’t help it), “that’s what she said,” or most things posted on Engrish.com.
I should also mention that during the class o’ Beliebers, I heard the following gems:
a. Small town delusions: “There’s so much traffic on the freeways in Boise, I couldn’t go faster than sixty miles an hour.”
b. Agism: “Hey, elderly one, join our group.” (SPOKEN TO ME)
c. Big-city scare stories: “Yeah, and my cousin? She moved to Salem [the capital of Oregon] and someone got shot.”
And d. “I hate Asians.”
And now, as promised, here’s just one piece of solid evidence that I can’t possibly have a genius-level IQ.
B.T. once brought a pile of tiny rocks into the house, stuffed in his little boy pockets. I confiscated them, then had a small window of time to get rid of them before he noticed and became upset that they were gone. When the opportunity was upon me, I panicked, bypassed the front door (where I could’ve thrown the little rocks outside into the dirt) and sprinted the significantly further distance to the bathroom, where I DUMPED THEM INTO THE SINK.
Later, I spent a decent chunk of B.T.’s nap time picking tiny rocks out of the bathroom drain.
I did not happen to mention this story in my college application.