Part deux-My New TV Show

     As some of you know, I have been attempting arduously to get my own reality show on MTV.  I continue to fail in doing so, thus I have simply resorted to thinking up names for my hypothetical show.  Since "Heroes, "Supernatural,"and "Revenge" are already taken, I have no idea what the title of my show should be.  So far I have only thought of awesome nicknames for people to call me, while shooting scenes: Mollyrancher, hot taMolly, and GuacaMolly.  Yes they are all food-related, and two of them are Mexican-related, but I'm open to suggestions.  I have also started pretending I have my own TV show in my everyday life, to keep myself from being disappointed and discouraged while MTV "thinks about it."  Pretending you are in a TV show can sometimes be a little weird, but it actually has made my life incredibly more interesting.  It makes me think about what people would want to watch me do on a regular basis. My friends have approached me and held many interventions saying I should stop, but it's relatively impossible to stop pretending like you're constantly being filmed and watched by millions once that idea has popped in your head.  Just ask Snooki!! This idea has delved so far into my creative conscience that it has affected my life choices and daily habits.  Luckily, my pseudo-show has actually kept me from doing some semi-embarassing things that I would never want anyone to see.  For instance, my daily facial exercises-- I'm fairly certain no one would want to watch 10 minutes (ok, 20 minutes) of me practicing my different faces every morning in the mirror.  Also, I'm ABSOLUTELY certain no one would want to watch me studying. SO BORING, right?  I know exactly what makes good television, and my life is it.  Help make it happen! Join Mollytheism on facebook! (Not sure how that correlates to my own TV show? Join and find out!) 


-Dame Shirley 

Flirting with Disaster (numero uno)

Welcome to my two-part introduction to the beginning of my second year at the greatest school ever (CAL POLY SAN LUIS OBISPO GO MUSTANGS.) This quarter has been the epitome of awesome.  It all began with a simple guitar, an artichoke that looks like a radish, a spectacular group of friends, and a lot of cookies. 

First off, basically every week I develop an unofficial list of new things that I love, and a bigger list of things that I hate.  This keeps my world in order, and makes me feel powerful.  One of the things I have learned to hate are “that awkward moment when...” facebook statuses.  Yes, we all have awkward moments, and yes it helps to talk about them with others at times, but is it really necessary to turn them into something so trite and stupid-sounding, put it on facebook, then hashtag it? NO. Anyway, I made a rule a long time ago that I can’t hate things until I try them, then and only then, can I unveil my undeniable loathing for it.  (Read the first Twilight book, went on a date with a tool, ice-skated, ate a whole peanut, listened to Mayday Parade, watched Two and a Half Men... etc..)  So, in the spirit of this promise I made to myself, I have decided to make my own list of “that awkward moment when...” scenarios, that I have experienced in my first quarter at Cal Poly this year.  

That awkward moment when...

...you are walking past a cute boy on campus, and all of the sudden you become extremely aware of your legs. 

You suddenly realize how freakishly you walk. You don’t simply trip over your own feet, you start walking with an interesting, unexplainable hop. You drag your left foot more. You try putting your feet one in front of the other so your hips swing back and forth more, but can only swing it on the right side, so instead of looking sexy, you look like an ostrich trying to avoid a pile of cow manure.   (You won’t understand the ostrich reference until you’ve been in this situation.) 

...you daydream in class and realize you’re staring directly into the eyes of a confused stranger. 

There’s not much to say about this one, just that it is that rare human moment that no one wants to discuss or explain, simply forget about it. 

...you are sitting next to an infant in a stroller and he/she (you can’t tell because boy and girl infants are basically synonymous) makes eye contact with you and doesn’t look away.  

You keep looking because you’re so confused, but don’t want to be a jerk and ignore him/her.  At the same time, do they even have feelings yet?  Will he/she remember that you ignored the look? Are its parents aware that their baby is acting like a Chris Angel wannabe? It’s so juvenile...

...you walk around your apartment in just your underwear, trying to get your roommates to feel uncomfortable, but they are used to things like that, and don’t say a word. 

...you are described as a “good blower” in biology lab, because your makeshift “by-the-sail” jellyfish won the race.

...you instantly fall in love with a stranger in the car next to you, because you know you will never see him again. 

Everyone is so much more brave whilst driving in their car.  HELLO. It’s okay to flirt outside of a moving vehicle!! Isn’t it? 

...you walk into the wrong apartment with your pink Kevin Bacon shirt on, screaming “someone’s home!”

Then completely judge a strange boy for being in YOUR apartment, when in actuality, it is HIS apartment. 

...you’re walking on campus and see the boy who lives in the apartment that you mistook as your own.

Hide behind a bush? YES. 

...you try to come up with a nickname for someone on the spot, and it doesn’t work. AT ALL. 

Don’t attempt improv if you’re not good at thinking on your feet. It does, in fact, require thought. 

So finally, I have the right to eternally hate “that awkward moment when...” quotes. Please start hating them, also. 

-Dame Shirley

My last wishes as a Cal Poly freshman

I wish...

1. ...that the custodians in the dorms stop cleaning the bathrooms during the PRIME shower-taking hour of 9am
2. ...that the construction be finished NOW
3. ...that the '# of days without a construction accident' sign that has read "69 days" never be taken down or changed
4. ...that the unpopular, and possibly radioactive "VG's" burn to the ground, allowing for students to never call that dreadful eating place "the vag" again
5. ...that the library get freaking air conditioning
6. ...that people stop raping other people on campus, so the poor newly-elected president won't have to write another e-mail about it
7. ...that the English department get teachers that know how to speak English properly
8. ...that the health center hire more radiologists so certain students don't have to wait 4 hours to get an x-ray of a wrist that was hit by a frisbee on the beach
9. ...that the new radiologists they hire can spell the word "frisbee" correctly
10. ...that tuition be lowered instead of increasing it by 32%!!!
11. ...that bikers on campus look twice before they speed 40mph on a packed pedestrian sidewalk that is 1.5 ft. wide.
12. ...that Netflix make all of their movies streaming, so poor college kids can procrastinate EVEN MORE
13. ...that the campus buildings get some sort of distinctive numbering pattern
14. ...that 'Musty the Mustang' get a little looser-fitting shorts
15. ...that the guy to girl ratio stay the same, always
16. ...that the "odds are good for girls on campus, but the goods are odd" statement be instated in the Cal Poly handbook, because it's funny
17. ...that the Cal Poly freshmen boys buck up for next year and ask a girl out, because you're cute, but don't know it--and that is attractive
18. ...that the Starbucks on campus be open 24/7!!!!
19. ...that the pigs on campus be let loose every last Thursday of the month, just to keep us students on our toes
20. ...that no one ever refer to me as "Cal Molly" ever again
21. ...that the awesome/brilliant people I have met stay with me for the rest of my life
22. ...that my life be extremely short
JUST KIDDING

I love Cal Poly, and my year here has been magical.  I have definitely had amazing times: going to farmers market, Week of Welcome, picking up the "hella tight" California lingo, beaching it up, watching bands perform in the U.U., late night talks with friends, late night parties with friends, and most of all FRO YO. At the same time, I have had some hard times: missing my family, being deathly ill for 1/2 of winter quarter, awkward encounters with people I'm now trying to avoid forever, and most of all, pulling all nighters to finish a paper, or study for a midterm.  I will always remember my first year here as a wonderful, meaningful experience.  It was worth every penny.

-Dame Shirley

The Campus Health Center: The closest you'll ever get to Universal health care, but the farthest you'll get to seeing an actual doctor...

     Yes, college is the life... except when you get hurt or sick.  That sucks monkies.  No one is there to take care of you, and you feel so alone, you cannot even get out of bed to take a shower or check your myspace page.  Ok, maybe it's not THAT bad... but it can definitely be a burden.  I remember WISHING for pink eye in high school! Just to stay home and catch up on my work, or take a breather from the stress.  College is SO different.  A friend can't just pick up your work for you and say "see ya tomorrow, pinkie!" In college, you have to attend class.  You have to be seen with your pustule eye and runny nose.


     As you may have taken from this oddly specific example, I did in fact get some sort of eye infection recently while living in the disease-infested dorms.  I had a sinus infection and pink eye.  Not a good combination when you're trying to look adorable for the hot rugby player in your bio class... Not at all. It's one of those rare cases when you actually have to say "EXCUSE ME, MY BOOBS ARE DOWN HERE!" to someone that cannot stop ogling at your bloodshot, yellow-crusted eye ball.


     The previous day I had been sitting on the beach, minding my own business, getting my tan on, when all of the sudden, seven 30-year-old guidos started playing frisbee right next to us.  I thought nothing of it, and continued to 'tan my hide,' when all of the sudden a frisbee came shooting down from the sky on a trajectory path directly to my neck! "Heads up, pretty ladies," I heard from 10 yards away, as my heart began to pound rapidly, my life flashing before my eyes.  I threw my forearm up to protect myself any way I could, and the frisbee got me.  It got me real good; providing me with yet another excuse to go see a doctor, aside from my sinus infection, and my about-to-be pink eye.


     The campus health center is a tiny building with like three nurses, one radiologist, and three physician's assistants.  The first time I entered the health center was after thanksgiving break, for my first sinus infection.  I will not sit here and complain about how they prescribed me over-the-counter nasal spray and sent me on my way, after waiting 2.5 hours in four different waiting rooms.  If I were to voice my complaints, I would state that the absolute worst part about the health center is that they aren't like normal hospitals where they scoot you around from waiting room to waiting room, interacting with different nurses, making you believe you are actually making progress to see an actual doctor.  NO. The health center has a clock on every wall, they have two waiting areas, both visible from the main lobby, so you can not only see how much time you are wasting, but also all of the people who are waiting before you.  Once again, I will not even begin to complain about how horrible the health center is.


     If you are prone to illness, maybe college isn't right for you.  Also, if I ever find out who gave me pink eye, I will lock him/her in the health center for all eternity.  




-Dame Shirley

"Shlerft!"

     I'm surprised I found my way out of the womb.  I have a big problem with navigation.  I have never had a speech impediment or stuttering problem my whole life, until I am asked which turn to take in a car.  I am naturally a very decisive person, so I make decisions quickly and am pretty good at thinking on my feet; except when navigating.  Ask me which turn to take next on a road, and you will get a reply from me in .2 seconds sounding something along the lines of "shlerft!"  After many failed attempts at finding our way back to campus, my friends have learned to ignore my navigational instincts, but unfortunately, my own body has not.


     My first quarter of school, I had absolutely no idea where I was going.  Before school started, I would look at maps of campus, trying to get myself oriented with the buildings.  I would spend my time walking around campus, memorizing numbers of buildings, counting feet between classes, and timing my days perfectly so I would have ample time to get lost.


     My second day of public speaking class, I decided to cut through campus like all the normal kids, instead of trotting all the way around North Perimeter Rd. to get to the English 22 building.  I noticed a kid from my class and decided to follow him.  I didn't want to follow too closely, because I was still super concerned with looking like a 'newb,' so I went in a different door than him.  I had one of those moments after I made my way through the door where I knew I had made the wrong decision.  BUT, I was too stubborn to turn around and just follow him.


     I immediately started freaking out when I recognized NOTHING.  I needed to find room 118, and fast! I had been to this building before, yet nothing looked familiar. The numbers on the classrooms were different and there was no sign of anyone from my class.  I began to breathe deeper and deeper as I tried to figure out who I would call in this situation.  I walked into a random classroom and asked a crop science professor where my classroom was.   He gave me directions, but I didn't hear any of them because I was TOO NERVOUS. How could I be lost? I had been to this classroom before, on the first day of public speaking! I should have taken the long way. I would have totally preferred looking like a stalker to getting this lost.


     I literally started to run, my peers staring at me as I passed their comfortable classrooms, sprinting.  Finally, I started to ask for directions again, this time it was to an entire class standing outside a door waiting for their professor.  I panicked even more and yelped, "DO ANY OF YOU KNOW WHERE ROOM 118 is?" ...thinking they would be sympathetic to my "newbness." My professor walked up behind me right after I said this, and opened room 118, giving me the most judgmental look I have ever seen, as MY class followed her in from the hall. How embarrassing....  I guess you can never prepare yourself for your own stupidity.


-Dame Shirley

UTTER BRILLIANCE

     I get all my brilliant, profound ideas at night.  I purposely drank a grande black full-leaf tea at 8pm this evening so I could begin my "This I believe" essay for English 145.  The assignment is a 600 word piece explaining and justifying an idea in which I believe.  My professor says it's easier to figure out what exactly I believe, by making a list of things in which I do NOT believe or things with which I disagree.  UGH. 
     My list thus far:
Anarchy, immortality, ghosts, excuses, power walking, mutual love at first sight, the ability to speak a language completely fluently, Charlie Sheen, never regretting anything, illegal immigration, 'myspace,' teaching students only to pass a certain test, 7am lectures... 


This is approximately 1/64 of the list. I'll let you know how the finished product turns out, (as long as I don't over-think myself into oblivion first.)  


-Dame Shirley

Molly Mackay-Occupation: Grocery Bagger

     The most pristine of jobs, glorified by young and old alike--BAGGING.  It may sound simple and trite, but if we didn't have baggers in the world... I'm actually not going to finish that sentence.  I work at the United States Air Force Academy commissary.  For those of you who have no military background, a commissary is basically just a grocery store, but for military personnel and their dependents.  It's basically the place to be.  I have worked at this classy establishment for almost 3 years.  Time has just flown by.  Especially time spent at the commissary... it's practically Disneyland for poor teenagers that don't have enough money to pay for college textbooks.  Whenever I'm home for break, I spend every waking moment I can at the commissary; bagging, loading, unloading, and bagging.
    
      Here's the breakdown of my commissary's bagger system.  There is a head bagger on lane 9, we call him "el jefe." If you don't know what that means, go buy a Spanish dictionary and slap yourself in the head with it.  There is a long line of baggers in front of the customer service office (where the real head honchos are) they pretty much watch us like hawks, devouring any bagger who double bags without being told by a cashier first.  Whenever a lane opens, a bagger walks up and asks "paper or plastic?"  Then if the customer isn't 'green' enough to bring his/her own bags, we proceed putting their groceries into bags.  Canned goods with canned goods, produce with produce, meat with meat, ice cream with cold jars of pickles.  It really becomes second nature.  Just make sure you remember to put the bread on TOP in a bag of what I call 'the crushables.'  You may think this is all we do, but this is the commissary we're talking about, we actually take it a step further and bring the customer's groceries out to their cars and load them.
     
     As a bagger, we only get paid in tips.  Which can sometimes suck monkies if we only have 3 customers in 4 hours.  Most of the time, we get paid on average about 12-15 an hour.  This mostly depends on how you treat your customers, your gender, your customer's gender, your customer's age, and many other factors that are incredibly politically incorrect and should never be discussed with non-baggers, or what we like to call, 'muggles.'  As a bagger, I have learned to read people very well.  If you get a customer who is a cadet at the Air Force Academy, and you are a female bagger, you are going to get tipped very well.  If you get a customer with a red, shiny porshe, he is most likely an enlisted man who is in debt up to his eye balls and is going to tip you 43 cents and a piece of pocket lint. Yes, bagging is the life.  The customers are may favorite part of my job (the ones that tip me well,) and it is always incredibly rewarding talking to the soldiers that swing by the commissary on their way home.  If I were to fight oversees for 14 months, the first place I would come back to, would be the commissary.

-Dame Shirley