The Misadventures of BPG: Nontraditional College Student #1

  Many things have happened at the Harvard on the Hill in the past two weeks. Over the course of the next four years I will report them here on the blog, as they are too darn funny to keep inside. You, my amazing audience, will no doubt hear hilarious stories of conversations with complete idiots, mishaps in parking lots and let's not forget the occasional crazy professor that I will have to win over with my smarts because personality just won't cut it. I'm sure you'll also hear stories on a more serious note........but let's be honest, ya don't get much of that from Brandi so don't count on it. I must warn you: the past few days have drawn a bit of cynicism from the depths of my glittery pink soul. Beware that many smart alec comments will ensue. It will at times be very facetious, very tongue in cheek and possibly a little raw, however, don't worry, it will always be CLEAN. And yes, I'm keeping Jesus in mind. (Don't I always?) Embrace the cynicism and, as always, enjoy!


  It's amazing how much one can learn in the first ten days of school. Oh, no, I'm not speaking academically, although I have experienced and learned much in that area as well. So as not to make anyone feel small with my amazing academic prowess, I'm going to stick to the social aspect of all that I've learned, indirectly, over the past ten days of school.
  First of all, apparently high school/college kids know EVERYTHING. When I say EVERYTHING, I mean EVERYTHING UNDER THE BLAZING SUN. There's nothing one can teach them. There's no use in trying. Just give up. There really is no purpose for them to attend an institute of higher learning because they themselves should actually be the ones teaching. It's amazing how smart they are, really. They're 18. They're free to ascertain and make their own decisions, to be independent. They're adults. However, I like to refer to them as "toddlers".....as this is how they seem to act.
  Now, I will give credit to the few that have extended their little paws and acted like humans, acted like adults. I've met about five, the other new little friends I've made are closer to my age. I'll get to the toddlers in another post. This is, after all, just an introduction to some of what you'll be reading. It's only appropriate that I introduce you to the cast of characters.

   The Toddlers: The children who attend Dalton State College.....especially the ones who annoy me.

   Jamie: An adorable young lady who is, I promise, Disney's Pocahontas. She's painfully sweet with dark skin, high cheekbones and long, flowing, shiny, Pantene Pro-V perfect dark brown hair. No, she doesn't wear animal skins, but I swear the gal has got to be dating the John Smith of the Roadrunner soccer team. She's smart, well mannered and I appreciate her willingness to ask for help as well as her innocent and wide eyed demeanor.

  Allyson: Oh, Allyson....in a word: talkative. I love this beautiful gal, partly because she's SO friendly it's just too hard not to love her to pieces. The other part? I never thought I'd meet someone who could talk more than me. Yes, she has won the "Chatterbox of the Year" trophy, hands down. We have one class together: English. How appropriate, right? On the day we met she plopped down in the open seat to my left and in her red headed, freckly, bubbly self said, "HI! I'm Allyson!"

We hit it off immediately, however, it was hard to slow Big Red down; she kept talking even as I stared straight ahead at Dr. Dinosaur, which is what she refers to our English professor as. She informed me she was getting married in two weeks and was five months pregnant. She's not even showing. Her tummy is completely flat. Mine wasn't that flat before I got pregnant so I get a little green as I watch her doodle "I heart Mike" in different colored gel pens throughout her English notes and syllabus. I feel right at home when I'm sitting next to Red and I'm pulling for her get that RN degree she's after. 

   Ben: I thought I'd escaped typical teenage boys when I graduated from high school. I was wrong. Ben's pretty quiet with his curly brown hair and ice blue eyes. He hides under a ball cap every day....come to think of it, I've never seen him without a hat placed on that thick head of hair. He doesn't say too much; he basically sits and laughs at every word that comes out of my mouth. And when he does his perfectly straight toothed grin lights up his entire face. His dad's probably a dentist. Ben sits to my right in English. In passing conversation he informed me that he is dyslexic. I don't know if he realizes what an impact that made on me: if he can do school with dyslexia, I should be able to do it with MS. Ben clearly likes the F word and the S word. He also claimed that he was going to "rape" his sentence homework we were assigned a few nights ago. Again, I'm learning something new every day.

  Kieme: Her name is pronounced Kee-AMY. Yes, she wrote it phonetically for me on my Math 98 homework. Kieme is only part of her name.....only two syllables in the eight she acquired in her first name alone. Kieme is a gorgeous, dark as night African-American girl. She's gotta be 5 feet 10 inches tall with curves that will knock any man down. Her long braided black hair is usually thrown into a ponytail or loose bun that always looks stylish. And I've never seen eyebrows that perfect on any human in my life. (She has them threaded.) Her daddy is Nigerian, hence the eight syllable first name and she's from Stone Mountain, GA. Kieme cracks me up thinking I'm so great at math; she's always asking me if she's doing something right like I've got all the answers. We work together as a team in class, helping one another to understand the purposes of the alphabet being mixed with numbers.

   Amanda: *GO RON PAUL!* This and her daughter are apparently all that matter in the world to Amanda. Just get a mental of this gal: I walked into History our for our second time in class together and there she sat at the table we occupy with two other girls. Amanda has an aura about her; she's headstrong and determined; fearless and independent. She reminds me of Red Sonya. When she's in a room she soaks it all up commanding not attention, but respect. I bet she makes any man that crosses her path her........well, you know what she makes him. Anyway, she was sitting in class, red hair flowing down her tan and freckled back, wearing a fitted white spaghetti strap tank top. Her tribal looking green tattoo on her upper right arm was more visible that the last time I'd seen her. Her acrylic nails were long and French manicured with American flag blue  and white. I crossed to the other side of our table and read her shirt: I HEART RON over a picture of Dr. Paul himself. I knew then: This gal is my new best friend. She's super right wing and I bet she carries a Glock in her glittery pencil case......right next to her large game hunting license. Yes, I believe God placed me in a class with her for a purpose.

 I have a few other characters I've talked with but not been formally introduced to. I'm sure we'll meet eventually. I've also found a few that I hope to never meet such as Vegan Boy in my Sociology class. I have nothing against vegans; I've got good friends who are vegans. This one in particular just thinks he knows everything it's clear he's not teachable. Again, why is he in school if he knows all of the answers? He uses unnecessary big words every time he opens his mouth and has zero respect for others' opinions; he doesn't take "that's incorrect" for an answer and has a very cocky attitude although I have yet to discover why. He came out of the veggie crisper in class one day, using himself as an example for the teacher. His family is not vegan; he just doesn't like meat. I see a little more in this kid: he's trying overly hard to be his own person and make his own choices, to be a "real live adult".

Son, the way to be an adult is not to change your diet. It's in the way you conduct yourself. Being an adult isn't even about paying bills, getting married and popping out a few puppies. Just be responsible. Just do unto others. JUST BE YOURSELF and the rest falls into place.

Kids have made this whole adult thing into something it isn't when in reality all the world, including your parents, expects of you is for you to be a responsible contributor to society.

Enough of that mess. I'm now moving on to what I've experienced the past two weeks. Aside from being run over by overgrown toddlers every day, the parking hasn't been as bad as everyone has said. "How did you score that?" you ask. Easy. Remember the Swagger Wagon? Yes, the one I often complain about because it's just not cool to be this young and have to drive a BarbaraVan....with a wheelchair ramp and handicap tag....

Oh, yes it is.

Guess who parks in the same open handicap spot every single day? And it only takes me .3 seconds to get there. Boo-Yah. No, I don't even care anymore. If those brats are gonna run over me, act like they know everything and be so disrespectful it makes me wanna slap their mommas for allowing them to leave the house, finding a parking spot in no time at 8am on Monday morning right next to the building is perfect revenge, despite the freshly painted birds that fly my way. As I pull into my spot I throw my head back in maniacal laughter and like Kathy Bates in Fried Green Tomatoes I say to myself, "Towanda, the Avenger!!! Righter of all wrongs!!!" I can do this; I'm older and I have more insurance.

To close my post I'll give you the end of my day on Thursday, which is my last day of classes for the week. After I almost had it out with Vegan Boy on Wednesday, I was numb faced and ready to pounce.....come to think of it, I'm still a little riled which makes me look forward to Monday's class that much more. Anyway, I'd been steamrolled by the Toddlers; my butt, the oddity it apparently is, was constantly watched; an 18 year old clearly has a crush on me since he stares all through History and lights up like a firefly if I look his way, bless his little heart; two kids were making out in broad daylight in front of my Swagger Wagon, clearly a family friendly, rated G vehicle. Just take your NC-17 movie elsewhere! After this I was followed out of the Stupid Center (aka: Student Center) by a hippie with dreads who wore a beenie, played an out of tune guitar and sang badly only to find a pair of hot pink and black gingham silk panties on the sidewalk next to my van. So this week I will pose this question:

What about that dern van just screams "SEX"?


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