those constant little reminders

I was sitting in the school coffee shop the other morning, reading the newspaper waiting for class to start, and I pick up bits and parts of a conversation between a girl and a guy:

girl:  i didn't think you'd remember me

guy:  for sure i did

girl:  cool...

(awkward silence break)

guy:  so what are you up to this weekend?

girl:  i think i might go to the pub.  but maybe not.  maybe just pre-drink at my friend's house.

guy:  cool.  do you have an i.d.?

girl:  oh yeah totally

(rummages in bag, pulls out card and hands it to him)

girl:  it's not me, but i think it should work.

guy:  oh yeah.  it will totally work.

At this exact moment, they both stopped and turned to face me.  I guess my eyes were burning holes into the sides of their heads.  I casually coughed and looked at the time and then continued reading my newspaper.

This had never occurred to me, before that exact moment, that more than half the people in the bars or pubs or wherever, are underage!  Now everything starts to make more sense.  Now I realize why I hate every local watering hole in this town.  

Also, just a few moments ago, I received an email from some silly Off Campus Housing email list I accidentally signed up for at the beginning of the year.  A Sexy Girl's Halloween party.  At the school.  "No boys allowed".  

What are we?  17?  Oh wait, most of you are...

saturday night life lesson

1.  When you're bored on a Saturday night and decide to take a little stroll to get some fresh air and then find yourself in the line to get into a pub which plays hip hop and dance tracks from 2004 from an ipod no less, and there is a $5 cover, so you wait 15 minutes in the ATM line but are behind a drunk guy who keeps swiping his card wrong and forgetting to press the buttons, and finally you get out the cash to pay the cover and the girl hands you an "Admit One" coupon like you're at a fair and you ask her what it's for, and she says proof of payment, but no one even asks to see it so you could have skipped on paying the stupid cover in the first place, and you wait for another 20 minutes at the bar to just get a one lousy drink, and you're weaving in and out of a sea of blonde girls who are all wearing the same shirt and a mass of drunk guys in baseball caps who keep bumping into you as you maneuver your way to farthest, darkest most secluded corner of  the "pub" and mock the people dancing to the shittiest songs you've ever heard in your life while text messaging your friends in Toronto, until the creepiest oldest guy in the place comes up to you and asks you if you want to go to a house party with him, just think about it a little more,  and then stay home.

typically stereotypical

So far, the stereotypes I had in my head regarding professors have been pretty accurate.  I'll elaborate.

Economics:  male, brown slacks, running shoes, messy gray hair, big gut.  Does not care about his appearance and has an overall dry personality.

Political Science:  male, tweed sports jacket, dark chino pants, brown casual walking shoes, glasses.  Prone to go off topic and can't use Google search that efficiently.

Anthropology:  female, long braid, birkenstock sandals, khaki coloured linen pants, loose flowing shirts, ethnic jewlery.  Extremely passionate about what she teaches and pronounces names of cities and countries in the proper pronunciation. 

Spanish:  female, long colourful scarves, necklaces, thick black curly hair.  Always smiling, and speaking in a thick Spanish accent.  

Art:  female, wears a smock covered in paint, charcoal on her fingers, carries a pencil, frizzy unkept hair.  Extremely passionate about art, hates the students who took the class because they thought it would be easy, completely forgetful.  

from the four corners of the spectrum

1.  How is it that I am able to sleep through my alarm and miss my favorite classes like Spanish and Political Science, and, I've yet to miss an Economics class.  Could that be any more ironic?

2. Walking home in the rain this morning, I noticed that the river looked like the Chocolate River in Willy Wonka and got super pumped.

3.  The other night, on my way to meet up with someone at the student pub, I passed a house party.  With live fiddle music and highland dancing in the living room.  I've never wanted to crash a party so badly in my life.

4.  I heard through the grape vine that a professor at my school had gotten arrested for child porn.  I so hoped it was my Economics teacher.  It wasn't.  In fact, it wasn't a professor at all, but a well respected bishop.  Are we really that surprised though?  Really?