Fuck My Life 101

Have you ever been in a situation where all you're thinking is:

"NO."

NO, this can't be happening, NO, this is not my life, NO, I do not want to try your free samples. Or maybe you add your own personal flair, such as, "Hell NO, oh NO, god NO, or maybe it's more like that one Oldies song where they just sing "no" over and over again? Like, "no no, no, no no, no no no no no no!" If anyone knows what the hell I'm talking about. Well, this was exactly what was running through my mind my first day of classes.

First Class: Fuck My Life 101

More commonly known as Math, I already knew this was going to suck. All I could think about were Math classes of my past.

7th grade: We would say the pledge of allegiance at the beginning of every class. I, having had ice cream for breakfast that day, said the pledge very quickly and then sat down. Yes, I sat down while everyone else was still saying the pledge. Look, it's not a big deal. I said it, didn't I? Really, if you think about it, it means I obviously love my country more for being that eager to pledge to it. But not according to my teacher. She looks over, sees me, looks back, does a double take, and that's when all hell broke loose. I'll never forget the day I was yelled at for finishing the pledge before my peers. Oh and by the way, Mrs. Fuckwad, standing for the pledge isn't even required anymore. So go stick a #2 pencil up your #2 passageway you bitch.

I chose this particular Math class because the professor's name is Boris. How. Awesome. Is That. It never actually crossed my mind that Boris is a foreign name and therefore might entail that the professor might be foreign, as well, meaning he could in fact have a foreign accent, meaning he might have an accent that my cute little American eardrums wouldn't be able to comprehend.

Not being able to understand the subject material AND the teacher supplying it is what I call TOTAL SUCKAGE OF MY YOUTH. Moving on.

Second Class: I Wouldn't Know Because I Never Found The Damn Building 101

It's not my fault. I have bad eyes.

Third Class: Old People Everywhere 101

Night class. Great for me! Insomniac! Woo fuckin' hoo! I walk in. BAM! Old person. BAM! Old person. BAM! BAM! BAM! They're everywhere, man! This is Spanish class, not Knee Surgery class. Okay, they weren't that old. But if you're sitting there telling me all about your two teenage boys and referring to yourself as 'Ol' Momma' then you qualify in my mind. I'm here to learn ESPANOL, not hear you speak to me about how you're too old to learn a new language. Believe me, I already know. And what is it with old people and touching me? Touching everyone? Touching little boys? I DON'T KNOW! All I do know is that every 8 minutes my knee was being touched. Touch your own knees, grandma! Tell me what the weather forecast for Wednesday while you're at it! And quit saying HO-LA. It's pronounced Ola. The H is silent, Miss Daisy. LIKE HOW I WISH YOU WERE.

Ah, what a great first day! I'm in college now! Who cares if I don't show up to class! Who cares if my knees have been sexually harassed! Who cares if my youth has been sucked by a Russian man! Who cares if I don't know what the hell I'm doing! As long as you read about it, I'm here to write about it.