Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Average Car Goals

As those of you who follow my blog every week (Hi Mom!) know, a few weeks ago my car broke down. If any of you reading this had the pleasure of meeting my car, you know she's a 60-something grandmother from New Jersey with a smoking problem, a foul mouth and a bum hip. Or at least, she was. Ilene was put to rest a few weekends ago. I'm sure I will see her again in Heaven one day because as far as safety was concerned, Ilene was certainly "the least of these" and I know a few people who gave their lives to the Lord after just one ride. She was an organ donor and I can only hope that soon there will be pieces of her all over the highways of North Carolina. And no, I would not be surprised to see that a piece of Ilene  had fallen off of another vehicle and was literally on the highway. Until then, I will see her in every squeaky fan belt, sketchy transmission, and broken spare tire mount I come across.

With Ilene firmly in my past, it was time to get a new car. Now I had no idea what I was getting myself into, the only way I know how to identify cars is by color and cheeky bumper stickers. So I told my parents that I didn't have many opinions on cars, my only request was no PT Losers, to which they quickly agreed. They picked out some cars to look at and Saturday morning we headed out, my parents with internet printouts and notepads, myself with equal fear and excitement.

It became apparent very quickly that my dad should do all of the talking. I'm pretty sure the only helpful question I asked all day was "where is your bathroom?" My dad was there to play hardball, talk numbers and drink complimentary coffee. Missy and I just pointed out what we found pretty or unacceptable (manual better). At Nissan my mother and I did a lap around the lot in search of more color options. We learned to avoid the pricier Altimas and Maximas, or as I like to call them, the cars with earrings (turn signals on the side view mirrors). At Toyota we learned the importance of finding a car without a gullet. To most people gullet means the throat or esophagus but I used it to indicate the leather bag that accompanies the PRINDL or emergency brake in some cars. For those of you who didn't watch the Suite Life of Zach & Cody in middle school (and high school, be honest), the PRINDL is the gear shift. Which brings me to another point, PRINDL placement is key when you are car shopping. After the 4 Cs (color, cup holders, CD player, chrome details), PRINDL location is the next thing I look at. Dad was in charge of the 5th C-cost. My big mistake of the day was not wearing a shirt that said "I'm a Republican!" because Toyota kept trying to sell me a Prius. Stop trying to make Prius happen.

And then came the test drives. My parents are middle class, working, average Americans. But you would have thought these two were having trouble deciding between a Rolls-Royce and a Bentley if you'd heard them on Saturday. They asked some of the most bougie questions you've ever heard, as if I were used to a luxury vehicle. I constantly reminded them that Ilene was a 2002 Kia held together with zip ties, duct tape and prayers, almost any other car would be an upgrade. But they kept going with the "what is bluetooth?" "can you really fit a whole drum set in the trunk?" and then Missy chimed in with "her friends won't be able to hear the radio in the back seat, can you balance the speakers and send more volume to the back of the car?" Can cars even do that? And why is Missy so concerned with the passenger experience?  Passengers were thankful to survive a ride in Ilene, I'm sure they won't mind if they can't physically feel the bass line of all the Taylor Swift songs I blast while driving.

Test drives were particularly stressful for me because my dad made me drive so fast. He asked me to go 70 once with the salesman right there in the car. The whole time I was thinking "if I wreck, our insurance will have to buy them a replacement car and a replacement Scott".  Now granted the speed limit was 70, but I like for my parents to think that I drive exactly the speed limit everywhere, or perhaps a few miles per hour below if I'm running early. Ilene would shake when she got above 65 so going 70 was a horrific experience I hope to never repeat...with my parents in the car. When I drove the car that we eventually purchased I was with my brother and the dealership let us test drive it alone (my brother is 17 and an even worse driver than I am). When we came back home my dad asked if I had let Patrick drive it too. As if! He's lucky I let him ride in it at all.

What I lack in general motor vehicle knowledge, financial understanding and common sense, I make up for in stubbornness. I wanted a black car. I got a black car. Goodbye Ilene, hello Cordelia. I love my new car more than peanut butter M&Ms, just to put my relationship with Cordelia in perspective, we couldn't be happier.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

My Suburban Life

Today marked the beginning of my last Fall Break. Ever. It's a little emotional for me but I want you all to know that I am really living it up for senior year Fall Break. And by living it up I of course mean ballin on a budget. I spent tonight gettin turnt with my roommate's family in the suburbs. I don't really have the authority to label any place as the suburbs on account of I don't think I've ever actually been in the suburbs, but they have a homeowner's association so it's a neighborhood at the very least.

In any event, my actions today were nothing short of utter white girl tomfoolery, so I decided it was my duty to report back on what was a new white girl frontier for me.

When we first arrived at my roommate's aunt's house, there were two soccer moms walking their dogs down the sidewalk outside and an unfinished house across the street that I mistook for a barn (I obviously don't get out much). Naturally, the dogs both looked like they had a good 30 pounds on their owners and one bore a closer resemblance to a polar bear than a dog but I'm sure they have leash laws or something bougie like that to keep them in check.

Our dinners were actually plated, there were sauteed vegetables, green bean casserole, stuffed mushrooms, pork chops with gravy and garlic bread. It was a dining experience. Dessert was a perfectly planned sundae dish with caramel and cookies that complimented the ice cream. Used to the ramen I make at school, I thought to myself "so this is how the other half lives" meaning of course those people out there who actually plan meals instead of microwaving a lean pocket whenever hunger strikes.

Post dinner activities included a joint effort at math homework, three liberal arts majors attempting fourth grade math, it was an ordeal. Next we all had to catch up on social media of course. My roommate's mother, God bless her, is looking at her phone and says "how many pictures can you take of yourself?" This naturally caught my attention as I'm working towards a degree in white girl studies and I get extra credit for every real world situation in which I expand the dialogue on selfie statistics. I literally just wrote about the evil that is selfie shaming last week, but this girl defied the laws on all that is good and holy when it comes to posting selfies. Instagram must not have a jail like Twitter. Shame. As my roommate's mother proceeded to show me this account of nonstop selfies, I suggested that she unfollow her. After contemplating that she agreed, saying "yeah, she is pretty much dead to me". So let it be known, she ain't no follow back girl.

What would a night on the neighborhood be without some apres dinner shopping? We had made strict plans to avoid the trap that is my all time favorite accessories store, but my roommate announced that she needed to go to Ulta because she "ran out of eyebrows". Bless her heart, she's a blonde and needed to purchase a new eyebrow pencil if she wanted to have eyebrows again. So we did what we do best and shopped. I bought what is quite possibly the most basic dress that has ever existed and more statement jewelry than a white girl could ever need.

For the drive home we played our favorite folksy/indie/bluegrass band and it was everything a white girl has ever wanted in a Fall Break. Minus the pumpkins. There were no pumpkins.

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

The Selfie Olympics

As many of you know, I have long been a supporter (actually the only supporter, I think I'm the founder) of the movement to end selfie shaming, a very serious social issue affecting teens and young adults and the Kardashians these days. As part of my campaign to end selfie shaming, I am dedicating this blog post to my favorite genres of selfies.

I'm sure some of you are reading this and thinking genres? aren't there just selfies and normal pictures? Um, no. Selfies aren't that black and white (well, sometimes they are but that's really more of an editing choice). Selfies, like almost everything you will learn about at a liberal arts college, exist on a spectrum. The good, the bad and the ugly.

I believe in empowering everyone to post selfies regardless of what size yoga pants you wear, what side you part your hair on, how cute your monogram is, and all the other shallow aspects that girls these days are judged on. While I fully support selfies, you gotta draw lines somewhere. More specifically, I have to draw lines somewhere, as the unofficial and in no way legitimate selfie commissioner that I have just appointed myself.

So basically people, help me help you. I'm not gonna endorse a 30 year old guy posting a selfie every other day but if you're a middle school girl who participates in Selfie Sunday every week, I'll let it go. Please consider these rankings next time you're on Instagram. Just consider this your selfie dictionary. Tell your friends. And please, someone tell my brother.

10. Artfie
Artfies are selfies that are trying to be artsy. There is often some obscure filter or collage app used to make a standard selfie look like a work of art, I don't really know, artfies aren't my scene. But I do know that THE WORST artfies are pictures posted sideways. It's not hipster, it's not edgy, it's not cute, it's not art, it's annoying. If you like a picture enough to post it, try posting it in a format that everyone can actually view? Just a thought.

9. Fitfie
Taken at the gym to show progress or muscle definition or abs (whatever those are?). Fitfies are increasingly being taken by women and it is important to note that female fitfies generally show the entire body while male fitfies have a concerning obsession with the upper body only, leading me to believe that many a guy skips leg day. The best fitfies are few and far between and don't use phrases like "stop making excuses" or anything else that puts others down for not posting a selfie every time they go to the gym.

8. Momfie 
We love taking selfies with our mamas! Momfies are important to take every chance you get, especially if your mama is as cute as mine (which I seriously doubt). Us girls take selfies with our daddies a lot too but moms are just better at taking selfies than dads. The best momfies are posted on days that aren't Mother's Day because you should love your mom during the other 364 days of the year too.

7. Hairfie
Hairfies are selfies debuting a new hairstyle/hair cut. Hairfies are often before/after pic stitches. Hairfies are fun if you wear make up to get your hair cut, or if you can actually afford to get hair cuts. Honestly, the best hairfies are celebrity hairfies but wedding and prom hairfies are a subtle way to mix up your selfie portfolio.

6. Sweetfie
This is generally more of an usie and includes you and your significant other, friend, parent, sibling, pet, pizza etc... basically anything that you care a lot about. Sweetfies are almost always accompanied by song lyrics or a quote or even worse, a paragraph. The best sweetfies are taken with babies and have rap lyrics as the caption. The worst sweetfies are boyfriend/girlfriend pics for no reason. And no, a one week anniversary is not a legitimate reason to post a picture.

5. Swagfie
A guy favorite, swagfies feature poses that the subject considers to be cool with a gangsta or funny caption. Swagfies are great when you need a picture with someone but you feel really ugly and just decide to go with that hideousness. Swagfies are good for group selfies. The best swagfies have captions that match the mood of the image and involve a photo bomb, woodland creature, or some other random element.

4. Femfie 
When you're lowkey tryna be cute/sexy but you pretend it's just a typical selfie. Femfies often use emoji captions (salsa girl, kissy lips, lipstick, one of the random shapes no one ever uses) because no one wants to post a picture and say "I think I'm super hot today" but when ya got it ya got it (or so I hear...). Femfies almost always feature a duck face or a vacant stare.

3. Stylfie
Similar to an OOTD (outfit of the day) post, taken to show off your hairdo, make up, clothing, accessories, or all of the above. Stylfies do not have to include your face and are often mirror pics. Stylfies work really well in collage format. Stylfies are generally captioned with only emojis, because really what is there to say about my VS hoodie, yoga pants and Uggs that hasn't already been said on this blog a thousand times? The best stylfies are mirror pics that you can't tell are mirror pics.

2. Funfie 
A funfie is any selfie or usie that you caption cleverly enough to make someone LOL. Funfies are my personal favorite way of sneaking a selfie. Sometimes, you post a funfie just because you come up with a really clever caption and decide that you need to share your cleverness with the world. And I'm here to tell you that's not wrong.

And finally, my favorite selfie.

1. Hapfie
Hapfies are any selfies or usies captioned with phrases like "such a beautiful day" "loving my eyes today" "so glad I got to see _____". Hapfies exist purely to show the world how happy you are, which I think is a beautiful thing because sometimes we take happiness for granted. The best hapfies come from a place of genuine contentment and we should all capture more of those moments.

Peace and blessins.

Friday, October 3, 2014

It's October 3rd

In honor of the 10 year anniversary of Mean Girls, White Girl Wednesday proudly presents, with the help from special guest editor Jean-Luc...

Which Mean Girls Character Are You?

1. What do you wear on Wednesdays?
A I borrow something pink to wear
B pink
C pink
D pink
E black to match my soul
F a football jersey
G army pants and flip flops

2. What is your favorite carb?
A crackers with cheese (but only enough for 8 people)
B butter
C diet Prozac
D Taco Bell (it's not a carb gah you're so stupid!)
E crack
F Kalteen bars (is protein a carb?)
G cake with a feeling-filled center

3. What is your hidden talent?
A math
I do car commercials in Japan
C big hair
D knowing when it is currently raining
E making wigs out of your mom's chest hair
F my hair looks sexy pushed back
G baking

4. What are you most insecure about?
A I have really bad breath in the morning
B I can't wear halters because of my man shoulders
C weird hairline
D sucky nail beds
E former BFFs
F my math grades or my cheating girlfriend

5. What is your best subject in school?
A math
B PE (I excel at games where I can let out my anger physically)
C British slang
D literally nothing
E art
F definitely not math
G creative writing (I write a lot of poetry)

6. What would you do for love?
A fail calculus
B Stay half a virgin
C not wear hoop earrings
D date my cousin
E whatever I feel like, don't worry about it
F get puked on

7. What will you be for Halloween?
A Zombie bride
B Playboy bunny
C leopard
D A mouse, duh.
E myself...Halloween is just another commercialized corporate holiday
F Quarterback
G A rainbow

8. What’s your favorite movie?
A Coming to America
B Varsity Blues
C Heathers
D Clueless
E The Exorcist
F Remember the Titans
G Steel Magnolias

9. What’s your deepest secret?
A I can’t actually read Swedish
B I’ve had a nose job
C I can't keep any secrets, even about myself
D I have ESPN or something
E I have a big lesbian crush
F I'm really bad at math, wait is that a secret?
G I'm an open book, secrets don't make friends

10. Where do you sit at lunch?
A with whoever seems nice
B at the popular table, which is wherever I sit
C to the right of the queen bee
D I just follow the person in front of me
E with my best friend
F with the football team
G by myself

Mostly As - Cady Heron 
You agree, you think you're really pretty. You're the new kid in town but managed to win spring fling queen and get more candy canes than Gretchen Weiners. The limit to your groolness does not exist.

Mostly Bs - Regina George 
You have a hot bod, man candy, an army of skanks and a cool mom. Not to mention 2 Fendi purses and a silver Lexus. Your idea of a diet is eating cheese fries. Your perfume makes you smell like a baby prostitute. You. Are. Flawless. But also no one will feel bad for you when you get hit by a bus. And you WILL get hit by a bus.

Mostly Cs - Gretchen Weiners
It seemed that you were doomed to be a beta for life. But through personal growth, reflection and changing literally everything about yourself, you finally became the queen bee of a new clique. Wait till your father...the inventor of toaster strudel...hears about that! At least you respect the rules of feminism. And you're totally just as cute as Caesar.

Mostly Ds - Karen Smith
So you need help spelling orange, so what? And we were all wondering why Cady was white! Don't worry about the h8ers, just tell them they can't sit with you. I wish you and Seth Mosakowski all the best.

Mostly Es - Janis Ian
You totally rage against the machine and have the whole angsty teen thing down. But hey, at least you know you're a mean girl. Just remember that calling someone a mean girl doesn't make you any nicer. And keep shakin that thang.

Mostly Fs - Aaron Samuels
You're a jock who always dates the most popular girl in school, until she cheats on you with Shane Oman. Just remember that you're so much more than your pushed back hair.'s October 3rd.

Mostly Gs - The Girl Who Doesn't Even Go Here
You have a lot of feelings, and that's okay. You feel nostalgic about the middle school days, and that's not okay. No matter how great everyone got along in middle school, never look back, those were dark days.

This quiz was beyond stupid and I didn't have a dominant answer, but I do have 4 candy canes - Glenn Coco
You go Glenn Coco! You rock because you're popular without even trying.

The End.
You can go shave your back now.

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

The Odds Are Never In My Favor

This past weekend I took my former friends to what is quite possibly the sketchiest Chinese buffet that has ever existed. I say former because all 3 of them have decided that it is in their best interest to no longer be friends with me after the events of this meal.

Granted, when I awoke that morning (okay, afternoon) with a craving for Chinese buffet food, it's safe to say there were no true standards to speak of. I would argue that in the genre of Chinese buffets, this one was just par for the course. But my former friends would tell a different tale and it would sound something like this...

We first realized things were amiss when we noticed the display of jeweled hair clips and bedazzled bracelets by the cash register. How bad is the restaurant industry faring that they have to resort to a side hustle of glittery accessories to make ends meet? Fortunately for this buffet, our next best option for Chinese cuisine was located next to a cat hospital in Durham. None of us had a particular taste for chicken chow meow, so we had to stick it out here. We waited to be seated and bravely approached the buffet.

Some of the key items on the buffet table included Chinese staples like egg rolls, brown rice, french fries, sesame chicken, lo mein and macaroni and cheese. One of the more notable buffet items was what appeared to be a spinach and cheese dish curiously labelled "garlic bread". Manning the buffet tables was a woman yelling into a walkie talkie with what we could only assume was  food needed, although I picked through the same pathetic display of sweet and sour chicken on 3 different attempts at the buffet, so who really knows?

Our cheapness beat out our common sense as we all decided it was necessary to attempt dessert in order to get our money's worth. I selected a cream puff, cheesecake square, Jell-O and orange slices. The cream puff had a texture that can only be described as lacquered, I couldn't even bring myself to take a bite of it. It felt like a fake dessert used for kitchen displays in Ikea. The Jell-O was also surprisingly difficult to bite into. I thoroughly enjoyed the orange slices. Solid citrus selection. But the real jewel of the dessert buffet was an ice cream cooler similar to what you would find at an ice-cream shop, with 8 different flavors that you could scoop yourself. The fact that I got to scoop it myself made it about 1000x cooler because I have the maturity level of a 3 year old. I was tempted to just hang out there for the evening and offer to scoop everyone's ice cream. I have long prided myself on my scooping abilities but that's a story for another day, and likely another audience.

Now it is important that you all understand that the ending to this story is 100% true, and in no way made up. I am reporting the facts, exactly as they happened. Prepare yourselves, I'll wait.

The waitress left our check and fortune cookies on the table. Our table of 4 was given 3 fortune cookies, and one fortune cookie wrapper full of nothing but air. Not a cookie sans fortune...a bag of air. You really can't make up stuff like this.

All things considered...that meal was still only the 2nd most tragic thing to happen to me last weekend.

Picture it. I'm sitting in my apartment, just studying away as per every Sunday afternoon (aka watching Law & Order: SVU), when I realize I need to eat supper. Due to a combination of various outside factors (I'm poor and lazy), my only real option is McDonald's (located approximately 2 stores down from the Chinese buffet...#foreshadowing). I decide that I don't need to take my phone since I'm only driving 5 minutes away to a drive through and coming right back. I think we can all see where this is headed.

Imagine my sheer horror when my car completely dies and I pull over on the side of a major highway just blankly staring and wondering what my possible next moves are as smoke rolls out from under my hood and I realize that I can't even crank my car to put my windows up so the carbon monoxide might kill me before the nocturnal predators if I don't act fast.

I contemplate walking back home but I thankfully recognize that my house is a lot farther away than I am currently imagining. Next I consider walking up to a person or a house, but I soon discover that is not an option as I am not wearing a bra. Honestly, it's a miracle I was even wearing pants. Had I been stranded in no bra and no pants, I would still be in that car on the side of 15-501 in Durham, resigned to die, welcoming death's clutches as they wrenched me from this miserable world.

Just when I think all hope is lost and I will die in the Kia that has been unreliably ruining my life for years, I spot a gathering of cars across the road. Upon further investigation, I realize it's a church and start making my way across the highway. This took so much longer than it should have because although a police car had passed me in my pitiful state earlier without stopping to help, I have a very real fear of being arrested for jaywalking because as you have likely surmised from this post so far, there are certain elements of bad luck and poor timing that seem to only happen to me.

After I rather stealthily made my way across 15-501, I tried the front doors of the church and found them locked. Now I hesitate to say that I broke into this church, but I did actively scan the perimeter for security breaches and eventually found a way in. I saw and heard no one as I skulked around. I finally discovered where everyone was. There was a wedding happening at that very moment. Not only am I possibly breaking and entering and trespassing (not to mention the earlier jaywalking offense) but now I am wedding crashing. What a day.

I tried to talk to the priest? pastor? preacher? reverend? whatever Lutherans call it, he was wearing robes, but he ignored me. He gave me a mere nod and walked away, didn't even try to lead me to the Lord or anything.I decided it was in my best interest to just go ahead and use their phone because it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission, what would Jesus do, all that good stuff. I reminded myself of those points as the operator informed me I was making a long distance phone call and charges may apply. After dialing all the phone numbers I knew by heart (911, 877-CASHNOW, 867-5309) I finally got my grandpa on the phone. This is where I realized that I would definitely survive so the story kind of goes downhill from here.

In any event, I lived to blog another day.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

50 Shades of Fall

White girls love fall.

It's, like, the rules of feminism. It's an understood principle that governs our world and is universally accepted. It's like knowing that a white guy with dreadlocks will have strong opinions on which brand of longboard is best. Like knowing that all craft beer brewers wear flannel pajamas.

Being a white girl who does not love fall, I'm a political prisoner. If the white girl authorities (Taylor Swift, Lauren Conrad and Ariana Grande) found out about this they would revoke my government-issued white girl card and I would no longer be able to create the perfect messy bun or get over 50 likes on a selfie.

While I'm not obsessed with fall, in the words of Jean-Luc, I don't hate it. In fact, I would argue that fall is an important part of being an American. They don't have seasons in Canada, it's just all white. There is only 1 shade of fall in Canada. White. Not eggshell and ivory and off-white and cream. Just white.

Being a patriot and a pioneer in the little-known and terribly underfunded field of white girl studies, I took it upon myself to compile a list of the 50 shades of fall. I quickly changed this to the odd-numbered 25 shades of fall when I remembered that white girls can't even. Picture the first numbers on this list as the first shades of fall, a vibrant summer-y yellow that follows a gradient into harvest orange, the official color of fall and infinity scarves everywhere. Without further ado, I present 50 shades of fall, the 25 signs that winter is (eventually) coming.

1. The first time that you step outside and don't immediately cremate.
2. A white girl posts a picture on Instagram of an aptly named "fall outfit".
3. The caption of that Instagram post is nothing but leaf emojis.
4. You start brainstorming Halloween costumes.
5. You buy candles with names like baked apples and toasted marshmallow.
6. Fall-themed monograms. They're a thing.
7. You pay way too much for your Halloween costume.
8. Your Pinterest is nothing but pumpkin recipes. (Pumpkin meatloaf. Pumpkin quesadillas. Pumpkin buffalo wings.)
9. Someone you know has a bonfire.
10. You spend more than 2 minutes outside and don't end up covered in bug bites.
11. Leaves change colors.
12. 3 words. Carmel apple pops.
13. You start seeing riding boots where chacos used to be.
14. You forget about all those sad Sundays spent waiting for football season.
15. Pumpkin spice lattes come back.
16. You buy a pumpkin to use as a decoration (actually baking pumpkin pie is your aunt's job).
17. You attend a bonfire and make smores.
18. Hocus Pocus comes on for the 10th Sunday afternoon in a row.
19. You watch Hocus Pocus for the 10th Sunday afternoon in a row.
20. Someone invites you on a weekend mountain trip.
21. You spot a white girl walking a dog that's wearing a vest or coat or scarf.
22. You take a jacket everywhere without even thinking about it.
23. Leaves fall. Get it? Cause fall.
24. You eat approximately 17 kinds of fried food at the State Fair.
25. Everywhere you look you see at least 10 white girls wearing yoga leggings, Uggs, a Victoria's Secret hoodie, and an infinity scarf holding a pumpkin spice latte and the latest iPhone and 1 white guy who is still wearing shorts and a t shirt.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Senior Year So Far -Brought to You By Buzzfeed*

Like all great plagiarists, I often imitate or adapt or completely rip off the style of some of my favorite writers. I would label my writing style as Carrie Bradshaw meets Chelsea Handler, and they don't really click so then Chelsea Handler goes off and has a catty conversation about it with David Sedaris. This week's post is the byproduct of those chance celeb encounters, and by that I mean it's basically me ranting about how my senior year of college has gone so far. As a testament to the student mindset that I'm by some miracle in possession of, I'm going to outline the 3 main themes of this post to make it easier to study later. 1-Don't trust these profs. 2-Study, study, study let's all win trivia. And 3-How to not sit in my seat in one easy step.

1. Don't trust these profs.
I'm not sure what leader in the education world decided it was a good idea to have students teach other students, but I hope he got fired before he got tenured. In elementary, middle and high school I appreciated this strategy because teaching something helps you learn the material a lot better, and presenting to the class was generally a project or group assignment. But now that I'm in college it just feels like doing my professors' jobs for them. 
I don't mind leading a discussion or giving literary analysis in front of the class every now and then, but preparing a presentation and lecturing on the text book? It's difficult to look my religion professor in the face after that one. He's gotta be making well over 100 grand a year and wants me to do his job for him? My mother is a fifth grade teacher, so she gets paid a lot less for actually teaching her class herself instead of farming it out to the students. And she is spending her hard-earned salary to send me to college so I can teach myself and the whole class about characteristics of Vishnu portrayed in the Ramayana and the Mahabharata instead of learning from a professional? I barely even know how to spell Mahabharata! Yeesh.

2. Study, study, study let's all win trivia.
So far this school year I have devoted more time to studying for bar trivia nights than actual classes and tests.
And I regret nothing.
Allow me to explain. The bar we attend Trivia Tuesday at always has a round called "This Day in History" so it's not a gamble to study. It's a sure thing. I could spend hours studying Persian literature and then be quizzed on Arabian architecture instead. But I know good and well, every Tuesday when I go to Goodfellows for trivia, there are going to be at least 5 questions on other events that have happened on that day.
If I do say so myself, I'm a pretty solid trivia team member. This is mainly due to the fact that the winners get bar credit and I don't drink, so there is one less person to share in the spoils of victory. Also, I know things sometimes.

3. How to not sit in my seat in one easy step.
Spoiler alert! The one step is DON'T SIT IN MY SEAT.
Sitting in my seat is quite literally the fastest way to make me hate you. If it's the second day of class and we're in a classroom where I haven't already formed a committed relationship with a specific seat, I can overlook it. But once we're past the third week of classes, I really need you to not.
Almost every classroom has them. The nomads. They wander to a different seat every day, not caring at all about the lives they're uprooting. They have no respect for the well-established principle that 847 out of 848 students have a seat they always sit in.
I almost understand it. College. No assigned seats. No rules. Don't let it go to your heads people! Please, for the love of my education, if nothing else. When you sit in my seat and you have no seat of your own, I have to sit in someone's seat. You force me to become the person I hate the most! And the cycle just repeats itself until you have single-handedly ruined everyone's life.
My question to those of you who sit in other people's seats all willy-nilly is why do you enjoy ruining lives? Did your parents not give you your own seat at the dinner table when you were younger? Are you bitter that after being the baby for years, your younger brother was given the seat next to mommy and you had to sit in the corner? I would recommend you see a therapist immediately to work those issues out with professional help instead of taking your anger out on innocent students such as myself. A little couch time goes a long way. My therapist, who declined to comment for this post, is my best friend, no matter how many times she politely requests that I not call her that.

So fellow college students, I know you're all busy procrastinating right now, but please take some time to read this. Especially number three. You know who you are. Don't let it happen again.

*I have often stated that Wikipedia is the official sponsor of my collegiate career and while that is still very true, Buzzfeed makes for a more appropriate sponsor for my senior year. This is mainly because a lot of my classes have attendance components even though I'm actually 21 years old and I would assume capable of making my own decisions. I would also like to add that in my defense, I never really skip class I just sometimes have to strategically miss class, which is completely different. In any event, my attendance in mandatory classes would absolutely not be possible without Buzzfeed. So thank you Buzzfeed, I couldn't do it without you.