Are you there blog?--It's me, Melanie.

I have developed a serious obsession for a local restaurant. Mama Kat's envelops my every thought. I want nothing more than to be a 'regular' there. When I walk in, I want all of the employees to be like: "Hey Mel, want the usual?" It's a serious life goal. Which may expose to you a glimpse of my pathetic ambitions. The worst part is that I'm not sure if I'm more obsessed with the breakfast burritos with avocado, or the idea of being a regular. Either way, I'm giving ole Mama Kat good business. Which is good, viva la small businesses. oops politics. sorry.

My armpit itches, but I am afraid to scratch it at the risk of looking slovenly at work. Though posting blogs probably doesn't do much for image either.

So earlier, I went to Palomar Community College to drop off my transcripts so that I can go to summer school. And naturally, I have no idea where I'm supposed to go. So I park in a faculty lot because it was closer, and get out of the car like I own the place...in case the almighty campus security was watching from afar. As I'm walking towards ambiguity, I notice a puddle to my right side. I quickly realized that the puddle had overflowed onto the pavement my sandals were trying so hard to latch onto. For a moment, I am lifted from the pavement and my entire body is flailing back and forth until I hear a splash. Then I feel a wetness. Then I hear an "Oh my goodness, are you alright?" I had fallen into the puddle. cool. So I just start laughing, but nobody joins in. Searching for my own composure, I grab my belongings (which have also been scattered throughout the mud) and go to the bathroom nearby and attempt to wash off.

Then! I finally find a map, and make it to the admissions office. They tell me I'm in the wrong place. Apparently, 'admissions' doesn't mean admissions. The employee says "Ok, just follow that guy, he's going to the same place." I look around, there are like 6 guys walking out the same door. I make a weird face and say "which guy...." All of the sudden some guy turns around and raises his hand and says "ME!" So I follow. I then realize I am following a special needs person. Not that I am opposed to it in any way, he totally knew where he was going, and gave me a tour. Palomar became Disneyland for the duration of the walk. He goes into the office, takes care of his business. I do the same, but as I'm doing so, I notice that he's still in there...waiting. Once I'm finished, I flash him a smile and say "Thanks for the tour!"

I'm walking back to my car and I hear footsteps behind me. It's my ex-tour guide. I hoped he coincidentally parked in the faculty lot too, then considered whether or not he was faculty, even my paranoid side came out and wondered if he was an undercover campus security man trying to meet his citation quota. I walk up to my car and he was still behind me, so I turned around and said something dumb like "How are you doing?" to see why he was following me. How are you doing? Really Melanie? ugh. He then says "I just wanted to follow you, since you followed me." I'm such a jerk. 

Are you there blog?--It

Bong Hits 4 Jesus

Ok, so my neighbor slash future roommate got a snake today. A real life one. I walked down there and it was just hanging out....around Steven's NECK! What the eff is that? I swear it breathed fire. I ran faster than Forrest Gump up to my room and locked the door behind me.  Snakes are disgusting, I'm researching them because I am always less afraid of things that I know a lot about.--Not that I am a snake baby though. I'm strong. I'm every woman, it's all in me. On the flip-side, I can make phallic jokes about Steven's 'snake'. yes.

The other day in the library, they had a stack of FREE BOOKS. My frugal self decided to go look at these...nothing good. As I was walking away though, I found a really fat leather bound book.  The book was about the history of the Nursing Association or something. Who cares right? I decided to make one of those hollowed book boxes out of it. Let's just say it's harder than it sounds. But definitely a good thing to focus my energy on AFTER finals. maybe. 

I haven't been to the grocery store since February. I know what you're thinking, and yes, I have been eating out a lot instead. But this morning I was way too lazy to walk down 4 flights of stairs to my car and drive to get something to eat, so I decided to improvise with what I did have. In my possesion were tortillas, half a jar of alfredo sauce, 1 frozen chicken strip and some Froot Loops. After seriously considering Anorexia, I decided to make an Alfredo and chicken Quesadilla. I made it, took a bite, and seriously considered Bulimia. 

Thank god for Del Taco.

ridin' along in my atuomobile

Whenever I'm driving around in my car I swear that the ENTIRE world is watching me. And even when I'm alone in the vehicle, I act like I'm in the view of the public. I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in this feeling either. But, I realized that I never really look at anybody while driving their car, so I would assume nobody really looks at me. Not that being in the public eye stops be from belting out Whitney Houston, but while singing my lungs out, there's the feeling that the person in front of me is looking in their rear-view mirror laughing at me. It's kind of awkward.
Cars are weird. You drive on public streets, in your private vehicle. It's like you're bringing a little bubble of your personal life onto the streets, with a lot of windows. All of these little bubbles obey the same traffic laws and flow in certain patterns. Our bubbles are at the mercy of directional signs and arrows. It's just a weird concept to me.

So, I took my final exam in spanish class today. It wasn't half bad, for a final. I mean, there are plenty of other things I would have rather been doing at that moment, like eating a sandwich, but it was tolerable. I had been freaking myself out about it for the past...ok...like only 3 or 4 days; but in Melanie land that's close to a millenium. But I even had the dishwashers at Panera Bread ONLY speak to me in spanish, I watched spanish soap operas, and listened to spanish radio. I basically converted my world to mexico. Ole! Hopefully I was able to get in touch with my dirty Sanchez and ace the exam.

Ha Ha that last sentence could be taken out of context for a good laugh.

Lessons learned: driving is weird, and spanish is hard.

Alexander the Grape

The other day a lady came into Panera Bread, ordered something and when I asked to see her I.D. her last name was none other than...Tampon. Yes folks, same spelling and everything. Step right up to see the world's worst last name. Or maybe she pronounces it tom-pawwwn. You don't know how bad I wanted to make a comment about her name, but I was sure that I wasn't clever enough to think of something she hadn't heard before within the few seconds it takes the computer to process the credit card, so I just returned her card and laughed hysterically on the inside. I, of all people, should not being laughing at crude last name humor, but come on...TAMPON? Pretty soon I'm gonna see Patricia Pad, and Cory Condom ordering a sandwich.

I think I'm still immature for my age...and to prove this I would like to point out that I love being immature. I love giggling at words like penis and vagina, and I really like seeing people who have a worse last name than Slocum. The other day, I was walking up the colossal staircases on campus, and I tripped and ate it hard. Im not talking about eating a quiche, I'm talking about eating it big...thanksgiving proportions here. I fell smack into the pavement, and NOBODY laughed. Why can't everyone just lighten up a little bit and laugh at the kid who fell like old days? The lack of laughter just made it super awkward instead of funny and embarrassing.

Sorry for the lack of transition here, but why am I so attracted to 80's dancing? I mean, what's not to love about cut off sweats, leotards and head bands?! Turn me on baby. Maybe it's because I'm just really bad at bumpin' and grindin' to the mainstream hip-hop songs they typically play at clubs and I'm living vicariously through Flashdance and Footloose. Don't put down my love of high top shoes and Kenny Loggins, there are worse things I could be trying to live through...like David Hasselhoff or Mao Ze Dong (yes, they are comparable public figures). Or maybe it's because of the way my hair dries into the perfect 80's poof and the times of today make me burn it with a flat iron. I feel like I'm trying to straighten something I shouldn't be, like a gay man.

Wise words for today: If your name has "tampon" in it, change it. And the world would be a better place if we just embraced the running man in all of us.