I take a lot of classes about race, discrimination, ethnicity and history of other cultures. It is what I study in my free time and what I love. I can even study this subject for more than 8 minutes at a time. My African-American History class is one of the best I have ever been in. The professor raps, dances, and teaches us to say dirty things in Yoruban (a west African language). I am one of the three crackers in the class, which makes for good times. I have also learned a lot about interracial relations.
- I am not allowed to laugh at any of Dave Chappelle's jokes unless I am accompanied by a black friend
- White people smell bad when wet
- White girls have "no butt"
- I will never be able to shake it as well as a Black girl
Last week an announcement was made that in honor of Black History Month a variety/talent show was in the works and everyone was invited to contribute. You could dance, read a poem, perform a song or monologue, or anything else having to do with Black culture. I suggested that I could maybe sing a Natalie Cole or Aretha Franklin song while shaking my non-existent butt. The class laughed, and the announcer said, "On a serious note....maybe you could make some cookies."
I was just trying to show my support for the Black community. Why does there have to be discrimination against the white girl?
I am totally going to make those black/white cookies where you dip one half in white chocolate. Or maybe the chocolate chip cookies with white and black chocolate chips..... that will show 'em.
Update: Everyone liked them.
I am pleased to announce a 4.0 GPA for last fall semester!
Yes, I realize that I go to a community college but I figure a 4.0 GPA at VCC is equal to at least a 1.7 at a normal university. So at least I've got that going for me.
A 4.0 is a privilege that I will not take lightly. I worked hard to excel. I attended a record setting 75% of my classes. I also visited all professors during their office hours pretending to be concerned about whatever the subject they taught.
One of my classes was Statistics, I do not enjoy math. That is probably why I am still in school, and why I will always be paid minimum wage (although I just discovered you don't have to be good at math to donate your eggs, which I hear can earn you the big bucks.) I think math is interesting but severe ADD prevents me from doing it for more than 8 minutes at a time. After the 8 minutes, I inevitably found myself doing one or more of the following:
-looking at stuff
-playing Mario Kart or Guitar Hero
-biting my hangnails off
-screwing off on facebook or darkroastedblend.com
-bugging Jared by placing my huge head on his shoulder and obnoxiously asking "whacha doin?"
-drawing pictures of people I hate
-drinking too much water so I can take a lot of pee breaks
My lack of self-control was pretty evident. But did I quit? No. Even though I failed the midterm, I nailed the final, ensuring my 4.0.
To make my success even better Jared told his grandparents and Dad. I got $5 from his grandparents. His dad sent out a family update email to all Jared's highly educated siblings, bragging about my groundbreaking achievement.Telling people with doctorate and Masters degrees that you nailed straight A's at a community college is like telling telling someone you were potty-trained at age 15. Anyway you say it, you sound like an idiot.
Next time I will save my bragging for pants-peeing teenagers. Or the homeless.
Due to a recent Facebook post I have had to answer questions regarding a key moment in my life.
I am not the pageant type.
I'm sure anyone who knows me will vouch for that.
I don't think I am the answer to world peace, I could care less if the arts are taken out of elementary schools, and I only recycle when it's convenient.
What I do like is winning stuff.
When I heard that the local Miss Riverton pageant promised a fake tiara, scholarship money and a chance to beat other people, I knew I had to join in.
That is why I competed and lost. Three years. In a row.
The first pageant in 2002 was fixed. And by fixed I mean I was competing with Tandra S. She was the girl to beat. Ultimately this girl could have won with her eyes closed. She is tall, beautiful, friendly, and I am pretty sure she likes puppies and world peace.
Miss Riverton 2002
won: pity from my parents
lost: only a slight amount of self-respect
Pageant number two promised to be better. Tandra couldn't compete, I had experience under my belt, and my gold sequined dress had a high slit. I thought most of my competition could be easily beaten. There were a few girls that I had to keep my eye on though.
Sara C. and Heather T. both had solid talents and good intentions. Two things that I desperately lacked.
After the judges interview where I talked for 10 minutes about the wonders of snowboarding, I preformed a sexed-up version of Marilyn Monroe's "I want to be loved by you." I had practiced in the shower a lot, so I knew it would be a crowd pleaser.
Confident I had the win in the bag, disappointment came when an excitable theater-geek girl was handed the crown instead of me. I did win first runner up and a ride on a parade float that advertised me as the loser.
Miss Riverton 2003
won: small amount of money, a drunken pervy float driver, trip to the rodeo to stand behind Miss Riverton while my sandals filled with animal feces. Also met some of the coolest girls ever namely Aubrey, Tennille, Tashina and Monica.
lost: to a chick who was more sincere and a better singer than I was. She must have practiced in her shower for hours. Plus I don't think she had been arrested before.
The third try was a futile attempt to recapture self-respect.
This didn't happen. Instead everyone in Riverton got a good look at my camel toe. Though I believe that this had a lot to do with me winning the swimsuit competition that year, I would have rather saved my vagina's public debut for something a little more classy.
Miss Riverton 2004
won: $50 for flashing a little skin/toe
lost: to a wallflower with an evening gown that looked like 5 year old's party dress and a who had a bad case of butter face.
I also lost my vagina's friendship and trust.
And your welcome.
amen.
Class on Thursday was not the same without the Enlightened One. The entire class wanted to know why Rasputin was not in attendance. And by that I mean we all wanted to know if he was now getting butt-raped in the local mental hospital. Professor pot-head refused to give out any information, so I took matters into my own hands.
I figured that the campus police would not willingly give out the juicy information, so I made a plan. I pretended to be Sacha, the girl that was hit in the face. I put my hair in a pony tail and got my nerd glasses out of my glove box. I didn't want them to recognize me as the creepy girl that hid in the bushes. I walked nervously into the office ( I wasn't really nervous, but my plan was to act like I was nervous about being clocked in the face again.) Looking over my shoulder like Rasputin could jump out me any second, I asked about his whereabouts. The officer tried to play it cool at first but I think he had a thing for scared girls in glasses. It turns out that Rasputin was taken to the school counseling center and prescribed some meds that should shut him up. That shouldn't matter though because he is no longer allowed on campus. The officer also informed me that he is allowed to take his classes online. That is just what Rasputin needs, more time online playing World Of Warcraft and reading about wizards.
I was hoping that something much more unfair and violent would have happened to him. I think the penalty for pretending you are God, and suggesting the class shove tampons in their butts, should be prison rape. But that's just me.
Dear Person,
If you are going to read this, I would advise that you put on a diaper. The following is likely to make you poop your pants. This past Tuesday I was almost murdered.... by imaginary fire-ball. Thinking back, I should have seen this coming. I have met more clinically insane people wandering public streets in Ventura County, California than I have anywhere else in the world . The fact that I have to pay out of state tuition and go to a community college only aggravates this problem. In fact, I believe there is actually a club for mouth breathers at VCC.
Disclaimer: For fear of further fire-ball usage, I will refer to the would-be maniac murderer as Rasputin. (I figure the physical resemblance between the two is a mean, mean joke God played on me.)
Sociology of Gender Roles is taught by an awesome ex-hippie Professor. I have taken other classes from her and decided this one would be entertaining enough. Our class was introduced to Rasputin when he raised his four-foot long arm. After an approval nod from the Prof., he gave a five minute long discourse of have the bow and arrow was originally made because it is like a penis. Nervous laughter from the class followed. Over the next few weeks Rasputin also committed the following social crimes:
1. Holding his freakishly long arm up 80% of the time to make his stupid 5 minute long comments.
2. Having freakishly long arms and fingers.
3. He would interrupt other students to let them know that he didn't approve of their opinions.
4. Forced the Prof. to allow him only 10 comments per hour and a half class.
5. Assumed that I was paying out of state tuition ($3,500) to hear him teach me about gender roles. He was one of those kids that have to prove they are smarter than you by regurgitating everything in the textbook.6. Consistently corrected and called out the Professor, which by the way, she should be sainted for. She was so patient, I assume it is a side effect of previous pot usage.
7. Announcing to the class that he is a "genius", while calling a girl a "dumb-a**" in the process.
8. Asking the Prof. if she was "turned on by the kilt?" in Braveheart.
9. When given the assignment of doing something against your gender norm, he said a good idea would be for a guy to buy tampons so "we can all shove them up our a**holes." (I wish I was making this up.)
10. He would hunch over and angrily grab onto the sides of his desk while giving the class death stares when everyone giggled at his comments.
11. Frequently spoke of the positive effects of mass genocide.
As my good friend Marianne pointed out, I do have a tendency to say the exact thing that will make someone the angriest. Though I did exercise some restraint, last Tuesday got the best of me.
I had already called Rasputin out a few times over the semester, and been the recipient of about 4 or 5 death stares. There was something about my comments that seemed to get under his skin more than anyone else's comments. Probably because I insult his intelligence and manhood. Who knew that telling someone that they had to have pubes to be considered a man was offensive?
After edifying the class about the importance of not judging others based on their education level, Rasputin informed us that every dumb person should be killed. I gently >:) reminded him that we should not judge others. Here is comes, fasten your diapers: He jumped up and threw his arm out at me as if he was throwing a fireball (like on the xbox game Fable) hitting my friend Sacha right in the face! Chaos ensued. While everyone was making sure Sacha was alright the men in the class told Rasputin to settle down, telling him that he was "lucky a guy wasn't sitting there or you would of gotten punched in the face." Rasputin was angry and could feel his powers welling up inside of him. He thrust his hand forth to emit an imaginary ball of flames to the left side of the class. He used his skills in wizardry to stomp on a desk, then fire-balled the other side of the class. The entire village of Gender roles 101 was now engulfed in the fiery flames of Rasputin's wrath. Rasputin raised his hands towards the sky and compelled us to "Recognize the enlightend one!"(he really said this.) A knight in shining armor stepped forth and saith,"dude, you are crazy, you need to sit down or you are going to get beat."
By this time I had packed up my stuff and fearing for my life, fled towards parking lot W. The rest of the class followed. I was about to get into my car when I thought of my pot-loving Professor who was all alone in the room with him. I turned around. I told campus police that Rasputin has taken revenge on classroom G 211. Police response was immediate. I hid in the bushes outside of the building for about ten minutes hoping to see Rasputin get tasered. But my legs got tired so I left.
I'm going to that class right now, hopefully something exciting happened. Update soon.
