Don't Honk if You're Horny

So, I know that I’ve talked about this issue at least once before, but it continues to be such a problem, in (my) daily life, that I felt the need to discuss the issue once again – only this time I’m going further in depth.

As a female pedestrian, I am at the risk of experiencing unwanted honks from random drivers, or – worse! – the disgusting lean-out-the-window-and-holler/blow-a-kiss. Now, I know that you might be thinking that there are more important issues (like the Ground Zero community center, the state of the U.S. economy, our immigration policy, the drug cartels, net neutrality, or any number of potential political candidates, whose signs are plastered all over my beautiful city like a plague, and why they are the messiah and/or the anti-christ) about which we could be talking, but, I assure you, this is a pressing matter.

As I am forced to experience this frenzied, testosterone influenced, honking phenomenon nearly every day that I walk to the train, I have repeatedly asked the question: “Why are these random people honking at me, and what is their motive?” I guess I’m also asking this one: “What is their major malfunction?!”

Oh, and before I get further into this, I have to say “No worries (Mom)!” because I never feel endangered in any way by these honking not-so-secret admirers; it’s merely an issue of annoyance and, frankly, confusion.

Now, for your viewing pleasure, I have created an outline (with pictures) which shows the most likely reason for and process of the “honk”. Enjoy. 

 There he is: the perpetrator. He is minding his own business, trying to get from point A to point B, whilst drowning his daily sorrows in the best of the 80’s, 90’s, and today, though it appears he would more likely enjoy classic rock… but he knows this song… You know he knows this song, and he knows he knows this song! 

There she is: the victim. Skipping joyously to her destination… or slowly dragging her feet because, even though it’s nearly October, it’s hot and, like my Daddy would say, she’s sweatin’ like a whore in church. 

The perp spots his victim. Drool forms at the corners of his mouth as he goes into a rabid state, his need to address the victim’s beauty outwardly rising from his toes to the back of his throat like wildfire.

I am not exactly sure if the wildfire thing works in this situation, but stay with me here; I needed a comparison and that was the first thing to pop into my head, since my head has been swimming with thoughts of Panem and Katniss Everdeen for the past three days (and NO commenting about the end of the third book! Give me time to finish!)…

Back to my rant.

I think this one is self explanatory.

Honk!

At this point, the driver is satisfied, knowing that his compliment has been well received.

 At the same time, the girl feels outright degraded – singled out by the disgusting display of chauvinistic misogyny. 

This is the kind of small-scale terrorism that leads to bra burnings and inter-office law suits; Breezy says I just need to learn how to take a compliment.

Freshman vs. Senior

Well, it has taken long enough, but I am finally a senior in college! I have actually been a senior for a few weeks now, but it’s kind of hard to believe because it still feels the same as it did when I was a freshman, except for now I am getting so anxious to graduate that I think every assignment I have to do is “dumb” and “a complete and utter waste of time” and I have already learned enough to be handed my degree and sent off to the real world (and I know that I won't learn anything new between now and May).

            So, while dragging my feet to class the other day, I got to thinking: how much has changed since my freshman year of college? And then I decided to compose this list. Don’t you feel like it was important to know my thought process? I guess I did because I told you. I could have just plastered a title on this bad boy and given you a bulleted list, but where’s the fun in that? Also, I added pictures, which shouldn’t come as a surprise to any of you.

            Since my freshman year of college, I have become older and wiser. I guess the “older” part could have been omitted because it is implied that it has been at least 4 years (closer to 6), but whatevs.

            I am now old enough to get into bars and drink legally, but I drank WAY more when I wasn’t. In fact, if my freshman self met my senior self at a house party (which would never happen because freshmen bother me - they look like they're 15!), it would probably challenge me to a chug-off, or at least a few rounds of beer pong (as I have NEVER been good at chugging), and severely kick my light-weight ass.

            I now have the power (and experience from so many times of puking in public and on random objects – one being the sink in a friend’s bathroom, where pinkish remnants (I was drinking cranberry juice and Burnett’s vodka out of a pitcher because there were no glasses - which explains the color and the reason why I was throwing up in the first place) were still there when I returned weeks later) to choose between getting smash-hammered-blackout-drunk and having a few cocktails/beers but still having a good time.**

**I sincerely apologize if that double parenthetical sentence (I think I made that term up just now) was too much for you, but there was no other way to explain. Now that I'm looking at it, I'm thinking it's verging on Inception with all of its levels. Sorry, back to what I was saying:

 PS: I don’t usually puke confetti; I was just trying to make this a more pleasant experience for you.

            So that is how I have changed outside of the classroom, now I’ll tell you how things have changed within the classroom (and I’m avoiding my homework right now, so I’ll include a chart for your viewing pleasure – you’re welcome).

 

*FYI: in case you didn’t know, you can click on the pics to enlarge them :)

Here are the main differences:

When I was a freshman, I was free to skip class whenever I wanted to do so for the following reasons:

1.      My classes were all lectures with hundreds of students, so the professors wouldn’t know anyway.

2.      All the professors ever did was show PowerPoints with the words from the book posted verbatim, so I could have (but never did) learned the material on my own.

3.      The only thing that mattered for my grade was my performance on exams and midterms, so basically I just had to skim (not “peruse”, that means something entirely different) through the book the morning of the test and get an A or at least a high B.

As a senior, I am not allowed to skip class whenever I want to do so (even though I am paying a ton of money and I am an adult, so I should be able to choose when I show up and when I don’t – AND, the professors still do the PowerPoint-based-on-the-book thing) because:

1.      There are less than 30 people in my classes, so the professor will totally know (unless she’s really old and doesn’t know anyone’s name anyway – even if they have had a class with her before).

2.      My professors say that each class is important for my future and the job that I will have (even though I have now been taking practically the same class, covering the same material, for three semesters and – I’m not trying to brag or anything, but – I probably know more about the topic than the part-time professor who is teaching it – AND the professor will literally yell at the class if we aren’t taking notes on said topic, as if we are in middle school).

3.      Attendance points are close to, if not the same as, the amount of points I can receive on exams and midterms (which is stupid, because if I can pass the exam that the professor has created without being in class that is not my fault, but the professor’s for creating such a simple test).

There are probably more things, but I now have 30 minutes to finish an essay, so I should probably do that...