"So, what should I do?" he asked, "I'm standing on a bubble right now. I could go either way." He shifted from foot to foot a few times to illustrate his point.
"Do it," I said, tilting my head in her general direction.
"Do what?" his eyes grew wide as he tilted his head the same way.
"Just go do it," I repeated.
He had been bugging me about her all lecture, she being one of the bleach blondes sitting a few rows down from us. He sat on one side of me, asking like he does every week, if I've noticed how many hot girls are in the class and how I thought he should ask her out.
I am absolutely the worst person to ask for relationship advice. Maybe my advice is good, but if it is, it's never exactly worked for me so I wouldn't know. Though I told him that you can't exactly expect a girl that doesn't know you to just go out with you and I figure that that was pretty good advice. Julie even said the same thing. We both said he should just go talk to her.
Though I stopped very, very short of saying that a girl that fake and baked who has already rejected him not once but twice is probably not worth his time since there are other girls out there that mistakenly think they're fat and would be flattered that he was even bothering to talk to them. Oh well.
Julie sat to my left. Through the course of the lecture, she drew a cow, a car, her boyfriend and miscelaneous squiggles all over her notes. In the margin of her paper, she wrote:
Forwards I am heavy, backwards I am not"Figure that one out," she whispered. I stared at it for a while and then settled into a comfortable daydream. A rather nice one, in fact. Julie poked me about half an hour later. "Have you got it yet?" she asked, drawing a circle around the riddle with her pen.
I leaned over and told her the answer. "I thought you were never going to get it," she said, "I thought you were going to have to call me up when we're really old ladies to ask me for the answer." She paused for a little while to take some sort of interest in what the prof was saying. "Just as well," she continued, turning back to me, "I'd probably be dead by then anyways."
During the class break they handed back peoples papers. I hate it when they do it in the middle of class because that means that there's no possible way you can get out of class without having to tell people what mark you got. In this case, I got 95% while the people on either side of me each got 65. They concluded that mine must have been marked by someone different and I agreed, though the writing on mine looked suspiciously identical to the writing on the other two. Sour grapes.
On Valentines day he got rejected by the girl he's still obsessing over today, but it's not just that. Last week he spilled his lunch and stained his pants. The week before, he totalled his car. It's something new and different every time I talk to him. I don't know if he's just more prone to this sort of stuff, or if it's just that he makes a bigger deal out of it than other people but I must confess that I gain a bit of a perverse pleasure out of seeing all this stuff happening to him. It's bad, I know. If you knew what a creepy, slimy bastard he can be sometimes, maybe you'd understand. If not that then maybe you can sympathize with how irritating it is to always hear him talk about his problems.
Anyways, he didn't do it finally and I was further miffed when he didn't bother to offer me a ride either. Oh well, maybe I actually deserved that, in a wierd and indirect way. He was in a hurry to write a paper, the same one I'm sort of writing right now. Mostly I'm just sitting and staring at my computer.
I have no motivation whatsoever this semester. I can't wait to go back to work.
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