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.