10:03 a.m. - 2005-02-23
Excitement wrapped up in a problem
A night at my Math class.
Finding a parking spot at a big ass campus is like finding a virgin in California. My frustration at having to attend this jackhole of a class is immediately heightened when I have to fight some 19 year old asswipe for a parking spot. He probably slept all day and took a 6pm math class because you know, �what the hell�!
Walking to class consists of the following random thoughts:
�I fucking hate this class. Wow. Look how big that chick is. Her one thigh is actually bigger than my entire waist. I�m not sure what that says about her�or me. I fucking hate this class. Dude! Watch the fuck out. Jeez. He was totally gonna just run me over. Helllooooo?!! I�m in the crosswalk fucker. Shit. I fucking hate this class. Is that my teacher in front of me? Oh crap. He walks soooo slow. Not that I�m in a rush to get to class, but shit. I can�t just whiz by him. Like I�m rushing. But now I have to lag here behind him. Fuck. I fucking hate this fucking class.
Once in class, I notice the freaks around me. The �too hip to be square� behind me starts singing �Psst ahhh psst push it. Push it real good�. You know, trying to bring the funny and all. I snort out loud cause he wasn�t even born when that song came out. Then I frown to realize I was. Not only born, but going on 13.
I fucking hate this class.
Some girl walks in who looks like a bad JayLo knock off. She is actually wearing a great pair of high heels with rolled up sweats. She sits a few seats in front of me and as the class goes silent for the teacher, I am caught verbalizing my thoughts of �Fuck�really?� towards her outfit.
I don�t think we�ll end up friends.
Not with bad fashion sense like that.
We go through the routine of all the possible ways to graph a solution, I spend some more time thinking how ridiculously wasteful this is and how much I (say it together) hate this fucking class. My teacher, who by the way is FUCKING RUSSIAN, slurs his way through what he finds as a lesson and then gives us some practice problems. Through a series of small miracles, I not only finish my shit, but I finish first. I go up, give it too him and he marks it all wrong. He shakes his head in the universal sign of disbelief and then notices that I got the super-duper multimillion dollar bonus problem right.
Him: �Melissa, how is this? How you get the hard one right, but miss all easy ones?�
Me: �I guess I just expend energy on the important shit�.
Him: ����.Okay. I�ll mark you down as completed for this class. Do you have a last name?
(A few students giggle at the question)
Me: Yes.
Exit room.
Let him figure out his own bad English. I have to figure out his bullshit two times a week�
All the way to the car I am relieved that another waste of an evening is over and I can go home. To watch TV.
Brilliant.
