I just got back from a party quite a ways away across campus and have a few thoughts I would like to share. Because I have a blog, I figure this is the time and place in which I should share these thoughts. These thoughts involve taking tests and drunk people - always a dangerous combination. Luckily, they are seperated by about eight hours. Now, everyone is safe and tested. Or something.
I never feel more self-conscious than when I'm taking a test in a large group of people. The problem is that I finish very quickly (you heard that right, ladies). It's a problem that I blame on Stephen Meyer. In first grade, we used to take spelling tests and then race over to the beanbag chair - first one to get there won. My teacher, Mrs. Cohen, was very concerned that we were rushing through our tests just to hold the almighty position of First on the Beanbag Chair. What ended up happening is that we were getting a very large majority of the tests right, just at a much quicker pace than everyone else.
Flash forward to Wednesday, March 29th. The last three days I have had finals in three of my classes in the College of General Studies. The second semester is truncated because there is a month long project called the Capstone that one must complete in a group with four or five other individuals, which I'm diving head first into now. CGS is also broken up into groups called teams, and my team, team X, is made up of about 60 students. When the departments have tests, they put about half of the kids into the big lecture hall to take their multiple choice tests (usually about 110 questions) for social science and natural science.
Today was social science, which included such breathtaking questions as "what war brought America out of isolationism?" and "out of the possible number of political scientists, which one said THIS that would be CONTRADICTORY to their ideas but more so to their IDEOLOGIES." Needless to say, it was fun times. The problem I have is that it's a scantron test and you have an hour and twenty minutes to complete it. Thanks to Meyer and our competitiveness, I'm usually done with half an hour to go. Usually, they won't let you leave. After trying to erase every little smudge and fully color in each bubble, there is still twenty minutes left. No cell phones allowed, no books, so Quicky McQuickerton gets to sit there and do nothing. It's fucking stupendous.
Sometimes, depending on when you're tested, you're let out early. Every time, without fail, when I hand in my test, I get the concerned look from the professor (mine or someone else in the department). "Now, are you sure about this? You can't get it back." I reply with "yes, I'm very sure, it's all your's." "Did you double check all of your answers? If you didn't double check all of your answers, you might have a problem." Once again, I reply, "it's just filling in a bubble, I'm pretty sure I can handle it." "Well, are you really sure about that? In the past, some kids-" and then I walk right by. I can't help the fact that I finish early - it's a gift and a curse (depending on where I am. YES I made the same joke twice!).
Because we really don't have any more formal classes, I went out and had some drinks with a few friends of mine from Team X (it needs an echo, so TEAM X exexexexex....). What was so weird about it was that on my way there, one kid kept talking me up. "Yo, Mike Anton is coming. Yes THE Mike Anton!" When I finally arrived I had a reputation of greatness--in what I don't know, but it was there, as random kids kept going "oh shit, you're Mike Anton!" There were also people on my team that I rarely (never) talked to in class who were incredibly excited to see me. Needless to say, my response was "yeah, it's great to see you too....pal!"
After some time smoozing and doing shots of vodka and tequila (to add to the captain morgans and no food in my stomach - I'm shocked I'm still alive) I went outside to see who I'll call Extremely Drunk Girl stumbling about on the deck. We were on the second floor, and to get up to that part of the house there was a staircase of about 15-20 steps, made of metal, that went up to a deck and then into the house. I started to watch EDG walk towards said steps. Needless to say, I panicked.
She sat down on the first step with her cell phone in her hand while doing the "I'm totally wasted" body move (you know the one - where your entire body starts to move in a wave back and forth like you're on a ship, only you're clearly not). I look at her, I look down the iron steps, and I jump ahead of her as she says "hey wai..wai wha are you doin don't...don't...wha are you doin!?"
It turns out her name is Margot. I got this from one of the few kids in the patio who knew her. One girl, Alicia, who was on my team last year, came over and was like "oh Margot honey are you ok?" Margot, the drunkard, started to lash her head about hitting the steps, sides, and banister. It was an impressive display. At that point, I cradled her head and refused to let her know. And no, before you ask, we had never met until just then. Alicia eventually went inside after trading a "yeah I know who you are" to me (who doesn't - I'm THE Mike Anton!) leaving me alone with Margot.
Margot and I had an interesting conversation. We talked about life, unicorns, puppies, and the increasing defecit spending. Ok, not the spending part. I asked her questions, rubbed her back, tried to keep her awake. She was content moving her ass off of the seat and balancing off of my giant ass legs about a half story above ground. Needless to say, I've been in less precarious and more fulfilling talks in my life. She asked if I was going to take care of her, and I said, "of course." And then she started to rub her hand on my stomach, underneath my hoodie and on my t-shirt. Quickly, she moved to the outside of my jeans and my thighs, later into my pockets. I have never been fondled and felt so dirty in my entire life.
Eventually some more responsible people came and we dragged her up the stairs and into some poor schmuck's bed. I had to pick up her iPod and her cell phone, as one fell out of her pocket and the other fell right onto the ground below, respectively. After dropping her in the bed and procuring some rickety looking paper back for a "just in case" vomit control, I placed her iPod and cell phone on the microwave in the kitchen, because I don't want to look like a thief (THE Mike Anton doesn't steal - he fights for justice with his eye lasers!). Apparently, this happens on a weekly basis, so everything is dandy.
The most interesting part of situations like these is when you go on trusty facebook. Aaahhh facebook - what would you do without it, besides work? I typed in her name and one of the first girls that come up is the one I helped tonight. As I looked, I saw that she is in a relationship with some guy. More so, it seems like a loving one, as there are pictures with the two all over her photo albums and a special "ilu" note in her About Me. And she was feeling me up like she paid for it. Just when I felt like I couldn't be more awkward, it hit a new level. The awkward turtle just laid some eggs (that is a joke for 5 people, so don't be upset if you don't get it).
What did I learn? I hate tests because they make me look fat, drinking 3 types of booze with no food isn't so bad, and drunk chicks scare the shit out of me in every way possible.