Well, for the 35468582475823652th semester, anyway.
Apparently I’m on the 5-year community college plan, no thanks to my fickle attitude towards majors early on. Fashion? Culinary? Undeclared? Finally English? Took long enough for me to realize writing comes easy for me, and, despite my lack of direction for an English-related career, I may as well just major in the damn thing and get it over with.
If only I could tell Hayley of 2008 that… but then again, I’d also tell her to dump her shit-hole boyfriend, finish writing that novel and to keep all those adorable clothes I insisted on selling to a boutique–I miss them dearly.
If I learned anything besides 5 hours of teachers yapping about their grading policy yesterday, it was that college is the perfect place to judge people.
I don’t know why I’m not getting a degree in being a judgmental bitch. Because that’s what I do all day, every day, that I’m on campus.
I judge the clothes people wear–some dorky, some outlandish, some looking like cattle, stamped with a brand on every square inch of their body. I judge how they talk. I judge what they look like.
So what if I immediately gained a personal vendetta against the annoying girl who looks oddly like an opossum in one of my classes? She interrupted the professor multiple times with stupid-ass questions, tittling away on her laptop (because you need to take notes on the syllabus?) and genuinely looked bored when we did ice-breaker introductions. I’m sorry we’re not all uber-dorks like you; therefore, if she didn’t care to know us, why should I care to know her and subsequently stop judging her? Exactly. (Also, I feel bad because opossoms are kind of cute if put in the right situation, but I swear, she’s a dead-on lookalike and sadly, isn’t cute in any situation thus far).
So what if I judged the … eccentric people in some of my classes, some people who may, at one time, read this blog? I get it: we all have personal quirks that set us apart from the next person, but do you have to be obsessed with vampires, witch-craft and magic? I mean, COME ON. Magic’s fake. I wish I had super-human powers because I’d invent awesome things like a house-cleaning robot and money trees. But sadly, your pining over the ever-tumultuous relationship between werewolves and vampires and the fact that fantasy-fiction will be all I’m counting on reading in my creative fiction writing class really depresses me and warrants me to publicly judge you.
So what if I categorized my entire school into cliques: magic nerds; jocks; wannabe ghettos; “hot people”; hipsters and special-ed? And by hot people, I don’t mean people I find attractive. I mean the people who find themselves (albeit incorrectly) attractive.
Just so you know, there are plenty of wannabe ghettos on campus. I don’t know why; our school is smack-dab in the middle of an upper-middle class community, yet I see people attempting their best “street” look to look hard or whatever. Apparently being ghetto in this town means living in a neighborhood that isn’t gated or driving a car that doesn’t date further than 1998. And wearing clothes your dad’s platinum AmEx bought you. Boy, living in the ‘hood sure is terrible!
Okay, don’t get me wrong. I’m not that big of a jerk (yes I am). And I’m not trying to alienate myself by making fun of people (okay, sometimes I do that). But the reality is, we all judge. That’s why we go to school: so we can learn what to do and what not to do–that includes how we act, and what better real-life examples than your fellow peers?
You can learn that there really is no difference between regular vampire stories and Twilight even though those kids think differently (a vampire’s a vampire); you can learn that tanning yourself to a crisp, Cheeto-orange isn’t flattering, but if you want to land yourself a douche-bag boyfriend, it’s the key to success; you can learn that if you want to be widely hated in your class, speak out of turn, wear obnoxious clothing and ask inane questions; you can learn that sometimes, abortion is justified–or at least birth control should be more acceptable, as 60% or more of the population is absolutely ridiculous and shouldn’t exist.
It’s simple. College is the place to learn, grow, and unapologetically judge others.
Oh, and parking sucks.
Degree now, please.
Since I had a really tough day being critical of others, I decided to make these yummy crispy bars to relax in the comfort of my own absent-of-opossum-people home. I didn’t have any Rice Krispies, so I substituted Cap’n Crunch instead. Similar-ish to my more recent Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch Krispy Bars but with no M&Ms, no peanut butter, and more Reese’s.
Think of them like fraternal twins. Then make both, eat, and compare. Then judge people, so I don’t have to be the only bully.
Reese’s Cups Cap’n Crunch Crispy Bars
8 cups Cap’n Crunch cereal, regular flavor
1/4 cup butter
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 10.5-oz bag mini marshmallows
About 16 Reese’s PB cups, unwrapped
1. Lightly grease an 8×8 inch baking pan with cooking spray; set aside. Place Reese’s cups, tops down and bottoms up, along the bottom of the greased pan, cutting any extras to fill side gaps. Then, place the cereal in a large bowl.
2. In a medium saucepan, melt together butter and vanilla over low heat. Stir in marshmallows, and continue stirring until completely melted and combined. Pour marshmallow mixture on top of the cereal, turning to coat evenly with a rubber spatula. Once cereal is coated thoroughly, spoon into the greased dish and gently press cereal mixture in to fit.
3. Allow mixture to cool, about 15-20 minutes in fridge or room temperature for about an hour. Cut into squares and serve, and store airtight.
A good alternative to the traditional Krispy treat, and another fun twist on my previous post!
Also, a good comfort food against the annoying nerds, ditzy chicks and animal-esque people of the world… or campus.
And if I have any new readers from school, hello and welcome! I promise I don’t hate you and I’m really nice. If you’re convinced otherwise, I’m 90% positive at one time I’ll bring our class treats, so if you accept bribes, I’m open.
Happy First Week, everyone!