ENVIOUS OF THE CARE-FREE LIFE OF THE STUPID.

I'm in community college. I'm trying to get a handle on life and take advantage of the opportunities out there, and I knew that I was going to be met with a lot of challenges. I just didn't know those challenges were going to be in the form of some of the dumbest fucking people I've ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on.

You know how in movies they always show Jr. Colleges as these run down, dilapidated buildings where ther desks are held together with Elmer's Glue from 1927 and there's always a substance dripping in a corner onto a radio that's still plugged in and the bare wires exposed and sparking. That's not my school. My school actually looks like a university designed by God Himself. But the students in the school, they belong in that stinky, smelly, moist school brought to life from the darkest recesses of human misery. Not all the students, just those special ones that make up the FUCKING MAJORITY!

I'm stuck in Math 125, which is actually cooler sounding than it really is. Cuz if you call it by it's Christian name, I'm in Elementary Algebra. I'm no good at math, I fully belong in this class but I wish they would just change the name to Math For Dumb-Dumbs and be done with it. This probably why there are numbers at the end of every class. It's code so that all the teachers can talk to one another and laugh about the jugheads in each class based on what number they're being forced to teach.

My professor, a gentle little man who I'll call Mister Miyagi for the simple reason that he reminds me of. . . .Mister Myagi but absent the fighting technique or self confidence skills. Let's just say his Engrish isn't all that great, which makes listening to him that much more difficult. But his stubborn refusal to curb the shinanigins of my fellow classmates leads me feeling at times like I'm about to start a riot. I thought my Pre-Algebra class was bad! I once likened my Pre-Algebra class to Anotonia Banderas' TAKE THE LEAD in which I suspected my class of misfits and mouth-breathers could be reached by a dance teacher. And then we would bond together as a team, take to street dancing competions, and then finally win big at the National Dance-Off. All while learning basic math skills. Pre-Algebra is home to where I heard such monumental math break throughs such as, "Oh! You CARRY the 4."

Math 125 makes Pre-Algebra look like a sensual honeymoon in a hotel where you have a giant champagne glass as a hot tub, the beds are circular, and Sinbad is playing on the main stage. The cast of characters in Math 125 include(d):

THE FAT "METAL" GIRL: Whose every article of clothing she owns/wears is from HOT TOPIC. Including her far too tight belly shirt, her jeans that will burst from her like an airline stewardess being sucked out of an open hole on a pressurized airplane if she inhales too deeply, and her green and white striped gloves missing all the fingers. Thank God she brings her laptop to class so she can sit next to me and IM her bff's during lecture, because otherwise I might not think she was cool. She also does me the courtesy of eating the foulest smelling Cup of Noodles ever invented while making snide comments about the teacher, and telling everyone within ear shot how good at math she is and why she's shocked she failed all these tests.

THE GUY WHO THINKS HE'S A GANGSTA' BUT WOULD SHIT HIMSELF IF ONE ACTUALLY KICKED IN THE DOOR: He's chubby, wears his pants down his knees, and hit baseball hat about thirty degrees off center. He talks to the only cute in the chick during class because he actually thinks he can somehow convince her to blow him in the bathroom during break. She amuses him because she has nothing better to do, like take notes. I'm sure his self confidence is through the roof! You can tell because he talks loudly about his weekends during class and constantly says, "Isn't that right Mister Xu?"

SIR EATS-ALOT-AND-THEN-BELCHES-ALOT: This fucker sits right behind me. Chewing on everything from sandwhiches and chips and then burpin in my ear for the first hour twenty. Thankfully he's never around for the last hour twenty because he leaves at break to head home. He is blissfully content to eat and run and not care about the tests because he just sits in the back commenting on how everyone is a loser but him. Ahh, to be so naive.

SQUAKER: This is the chick who will sit and talk to anyone who will listen, because she has to prove to herself that she's hot and worthy of male attention even though she isn't and she's fishing for men in the most polluted lake possible. The easiest way to identify her is to just listen to what the teacher says, and then she'll repeat it out-loud like it was her idea. The conversation in her head must be, "God, everyone must think I'm so smart. I hope they never find out that I'm not. Why do I itch so bad there?"

ONE IN A MILLION: And we come to my favorit part of the peanut gallery. A gentleman so irritating that if there were enough students in there that wanted to actually learn, we would rise up as one and slay him. The guy who will shout out answers whenever possible. But even funnier is that every answer he's ever shouted out has been wrong. Realizing that he knows literally next to nothing, he will then begin shout out other numbers in an attempt to get the right answer. I suppose his theory is if you shout out enough random numbers, sooner or later you're gonna find the right one. Just the other night after his rainbow of auditory guesses plauged the room, the teacher revealed the answer was 3. If he had just started counting instead of guessing, he actually would have been correct by his third guess.