Embarking on semester numero dos at the local “Harvard on the Hill” aka College of San Mateo I have become more and more saturated and seasoned with the culture and atmosphere of a community college. Throughout this saturation / seasoning process I have become acquainted and aware of many of the different stereotypical people who inhabit the same classrooms and auditoriums I. I share them with you now:
Sometimes known as the compulsive hand-raiser, this lil fella can be observed leaning over and repeatedly asking his fellow classmate for help something or perhaps me may simply remarking on the presence of trees outside. Raging Dumbass is the reason why teachers take forever to explain their grading policies. Raging dumbass is the person who believes whole heatedly that he/she is the only student in class, therefore, when the teacher asks a rhetorical question, Raging dumbass feels more than obligated to offer a less than revelant answer. Raging Dumbass is the Rod Farva of community college.
Hyphy Squad ( macdrewannabea – speakerblownicus )
Next on the menu we have the Hyphy Squad. You assholes come in early just to occupy the nosebleed section of the auditorium, roughly 100% of you jerkoffs have the backpacks with the built-in speakers that sound like rhino ass blaring “That Go” on repeat. Your all loud. I know it’s hard to stay thuggin when teach is spittin bars about functions and exponents n shit. Thank god for the fusion of keek da sneak and jansport backpacks. Yee bitch.
Overworked, Over-Caffeinated Foreign Math Teacher w/ Tourette’s Syndrome (spazicus-manicuz)
God bless you man, your knowledge and understanding of elementary algebra is commendable, the same goes for your uncontrollable urge to spaz out and clear your throat and bat your chest with your wrist watch. You work at three different community colleges teaching eight classes during the week, you stumble into class everyday like the fuckin Tasmanian devil on crack. I have never seen you without big gulp-sized coffee in your mitt nor have I seen you exhale. You sir are a spazicus-manicuz. Good day sir
I type this now with the fingers of a high school graduate, a man who would eagerly brandish his flashy new diploma around jus as soon as he would whip out his ass. Four years lived, and another chapter written in the greatest story ever told. I stood with my Aragonian brethren and lovely ladies one last time before I walked the line. Family was there, I appeased the parentals quite nicely I’d say. I posed a bit with the second family and the Christa. Sometimes I forget jus how big my cranium is until I try to squeeze into headware like a fat man in a little suit.
When all the names were read, every speech spoken, every Yi, Chong, Yee, Yip, Wong, Wu, and Wee was announced, I hightailed it into the gym, snagged my diploma and hopped in grad night bus that would take us to the boat which was equally tremendous. The atmosphere was seaworthy and bittersweet, I’m still thinkin I have school on Monday.. I will definately miss some things, my homie Matty E. who got himself into Cal Berkely a school I can hardly spell, I’ll miss his behemoth ass. Speaking of behemoth. I won’t miss everything though. I have never seen Ian smile like this.. Overall I’d say the boating expedition was a winner, from Kashi jumping through the celing during kareokee to the hypnosis. Good times.
Click here to see all the pics from Graduation Night
I really must say “big ups’ to my man K-Dubb, not jus for the badass NBHQ shirts, but for lookin out for me and lettin me know about his righteous parties with assloads and assloads of people. I did the usual and scooped up the nearest cooperating female and yes, I was rocking an NBHQ shirt at the time. To say the least, “it was cracking”, Hey! CHAWLES was there too!
The latest happening was our late night outing to the beach, in my car I carried the girl, the girl 2, and the bro of 14 years. I have greatly missed lighting everything on fire. CZIG was present, and we touched sticks, it was hot. Swell times meetin new cats and chillin with the oldies. Another buncha “big ups” to K-Dubb.
And so once again I have experienced another “last”, never again will I go dumb in a gymnasium, or on a lawn, or anywhere on my high school campus. No one will ever hear my thunderous stomps put dents in the dancefloor, no one will ever feel me crush their toes the midst of a slow jam, the luau was it, and if you didn’t go, ya missed it. Time has passed, friendships grown, and sustained, I am still confident in my abilities to grab the womens these days, and yesterdays. I have but two words of advice to share with the incoming seniors reguarding the luau dance:
I tried my best to fool people into thinking I had hips and any remote control over their movement but still managed to fail miserably in contrast to this lovely couple of vivacious vixens.
Meg got her tongue pierced, she wouldn’t let me touch it, I told her my priest says its natural, but I accept that she has different views and I guess we can hold off on the tongue touching. The cracked out expressions must continue though.
So I’m a sweaty bastard, notice my facial perspiration after hopping around for a few minutes trying to pass it off as dancing. Now check out these scary motherfuckers Martin rockin a god damn trenchcoat in the god damn sahara desert climated gym. Wanna run into that mother at the 711? He’ll kill your ass then send his dog to come eat your face off.
Senior activity is that surge of momentum that spins the wheel of time ever faster, and realistically, besides graduation that was probably the last time the whole senior class will ever be together again. I’d say that in itself warrants celebration and that we did. Buddy Jilly is shown here gettin CRAZY hyphy in the early morn. This pic tickles me cause it looks like Natalie is the baby and Ally is her hippy mother, Joe thought the same thing. Ian & I were bus buddies, (enjoy my snaggle tooth), I’m pretty sure the last time I was on a bus I didn’t hit my head on the ceiling, ahhh the magic of steroids!
In case you were unlucky enough to not attend or if you were even unluckier being a junior or under let me fill you in: We are shipped off from school to the park in buses and then unleashed to go run around, skate with no pads, jump,jump, jump around, be emo, THE CHOICE IS YOURS!!!
Then began the waterfight in which no one was spared, not even teh teachers. I’d like to think we did the community a charitable service of watering their park lawn with gallons and gallons of fighting water rather than saying Rachel poured bottle after bottle down my hairy asscrack.
Did I mention I went to this celebration sportin my highlands shirt representin the c/o 1999 5th graders cause I like to do it big at events such as these.
I must say those 4 and a half hours of water soaked grabass were some of the best and shortest lived memories I shall retain, it wasn’t two blinks later that we were averting the school provided buses and cramming ourselves into Ashley’s dad’s suburban, Ian’s expression is menacing isn’t it?
We got back to school right as it got out and the jealous juniors were gettin out after pushin pencils and sniffing ass all day with plans to head over to the beach to sustain our funtimes. Now I must place a tidbit of blame on myself for not protesting when the Half Moon Bay beaches were suggested and me, feeling how I feel about Half Moon Bay should have ripped out the larynx of whoever uttered its ugly title. As soon as we got in our cars and headed down skyline we immediately noticed our almost tropical San Mateo weather whither into a nipple raising Half Moon Bay climate. Needless to say we hightailed it back to Christa’s pool and I swiftly exposed my tots picked up sommore girls ate some pizza and called it a kickass day.