Love And Other Things I'm Bad At Part 8

"Oh." He almost glared at me. Like what is wrong with Colorado??? And even if there were something he didn't like about it, how is that my fault? Did I discover the state?

"What's that b.u.mper sticker?" he grunted as he pointed at the T or D one on the wall.

I told him it was a place where I used to work. In the evil state of Colorado. I said it was a really popular place to hang out. He looked confused when I described the smoothies. "It's like Dairy Queen," I finally told him. Doofus.

"I hate Dairy Queen," he said. Idiot.

"Me too," Mary Jo said. "There's not enough b.u.t.terfat in the ice cream, it tastes watered down or something."

"Well, it wasn't like DQ, really," I said. But there wasn't much point getting into it, not if they didn't know what I was talking about.

I left and went to the library, where I am now. If they keep dating, I will be spending a lot of time here. Which is just as well, I can ace all my cla.s.ses and get my degree in 3 years.

9/29.

GO AWAY. If you concentrate on something intensely enough, it will happen. Right?

Oops. Forgot crucial component of my thought.

Go away, JOE.

I'm waiting. Nothing's happening. It's practically midnight, and Joe has been here since like 4:00. First he and Mary Jo were doing math homework together. So I went out for a while. When I came back, they were using my computer to look up favorite country singers' websites. Had to listen to bad songs filtered through my computer.

Went out again. Came back again.

Now he and Mary Jo are deciding what kind of pizza to order. Which means he'll be here waiting for pizza, then eating pizza . . . then I'll be listening to Joe talk about how Wisconsin pizza is so much better than Colorado pizza . . .

"So, um, Joe. Do you have a roommate?" I finally asked.

"Yeah. He's really loud, though," he said.

And you're not??? Go away!!!

Mary Jo just went to pay for pizza downstairs and I am stuck here with Joe.

"Are you writing a paper or something?" Joe grunted.

"This is my journal," I said.

"Journal?"

"Like . . . a diary," I explained. How long exactly has he been living in civilized society, anyway?

"Oh." He looked fairly bored. "My little sister keeps one of those. She writes all about boys. I stole it once and read the whole thing. Pretty boring."

Just as I thought, he's such a wonderful person.

JOE: If you are reading this right now?

You're too close.

GO AWAY!!!.

9/30.

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," Thyme said as we marched toward the football field this morning. Her, me, the rest of the Badicals. Wittenauer couldn't be there as he was busy dancing in front of the crowd, sparring with opposing school's mascot, which was a cow, which could destroy ear of corn in seconds flat.

We set up at the CFC end of the field. I draped a banner from the uprights that said "Ozone End Zone." Yes, my brilliant idea. Thank you very much.

Whenever cheerleaders chanted "C-F-C!" we waited until they were done, then chanted, "No more C-F-C! No more C-F-C!" and "Change the name! Change the name!" Somebody had stolen some bullhorns from a gym office, so we were very loud. We interrupted the halftime show by charging across the field carrying flags and spray cans, wearing CFC sweatshirts with big circles and red lines through the initials. The one campus security guard that was working kept trying to chase us, but Corny/Wittenauer diverted her by chasing her instead-great comic relief, especially when she slipped on the field and fell in the mud. It was so awesome.

Except for one small problem.

n.o.body knew what to make of us. n.o.body got it.

Also, my floor seems totally split about the whole thing. Early in the game, before the football team forced us to get out of the end zone, Tricia and some other girls from the floor went by and glared at me. I heard Tricia mutter something like, "She doesn't even eat meat," and "so on the fringe."

But then Annemarie came over with the other half of our floor and they all high-fived me and Thyme, and said we were hilarious, so we felt better until Thyme pointed out that this wasn't supposed to be funny, it's a very, very serious issue. While she was talking, Mary Jo and Joe came walking up.

"Um, what are you guys doing?" Mary Jo asked. Like all our signs and banners didn't make it totally clear.

"This is a joke, right?" Joe asked. "Nice sweatshirts." He kept laughing at us.

"Some of us are less evolved than others," Thyme said.

"Why would I want to be involved in this?" Joe replied.

"Evolved. Not involved," I told him.

He looked at Mary Jo and they had some secret exchange and then they left. She's not home tonight. Ew.

10/1.

Just got back from cafeteria. Have another protest group idea. They started this new "theme" meal-thing tonight, called Oktoberfest. Basically it's supposed to reflect German cuisine, so the bins are full of meat simmering in cabbage juice and there's potato salad with bacon bits.

Who invented bacon bits? Why do they seem like a good idea for any kind of salad? Wrong wrong wrong.

I asked how long this theme was going to go on and Larry, Caf. Supervisor, said "All month!" and I said, "Okay, but what Oktoberfest feature do you have for vegetarians?" and his smile disappeared and he said sauerkraut was a vegetable.

That's when I noticed that lots of people in the buffet line were staring at me. Pointing fingers. Should have gone to a bigger college, where no one would remember me. Should have colored my hair a boring brown, or should maybe wear large hats from now on. But that would be running away from my idea. I can't do that. I believe in what I'm doing. Even if it means that my floor is broken into factions and some people don't want me there.

When I got home, Joe was in our room. I didn't want to be there. Thyme was fighting with Kirsten. So I knocked on Annemarie's door. She turned down the music, told me to come in. I asked if I could hang for a while. She said sure, I slammed door behind me, she turned up music. Music is so loud I can barely think, let alone focus on completing sentences. It's perfect, actually.

10/2.

Like dishing up glorified pigs in blankets is not bad enough! I got this ultimatum from Jennifer today re: the regimental hairnet. She found one hair in the cheddar spread and claimed it was mine because it was orange, and my hair is sort of reddish. Never mind that the cheddar is orange!!!

"Courtney, I'm not telling you again. Either wear your hairnet, or get your hair cut short. And don't forget to mop the ladies' restroom."

I felt like Cinderella. Mopping the ladies' while Mark/Marc sat in a stall and smoked his Benson & Hedges 100. Only consolation is that everyone gets treated the same way. Very very poorly.

10/3.

Thought I had a brilliant idea today.

Need to stop having those thoughts. Wrong every time.

Thyme convinced me to get my hair cut to avoid having to wear evil hairnet, to avoid Jennifer's constant reprimands. I thought about it for a while and decided I'd look okay with short hair. "Anyway, there's power in really short hair," Thyme said, throwing in some details about I wouldn't be oppressed by society's rigid standards of beauty, etc. She made it sound like she was going to shave my head, so maybe I should have stopped right there and then. But she was being so funny, pretending to run a real beauty salon. She gave me one of her roommate's magazines to read while I sat there waiting for her to chop it off. She was getting everything ready. She said she worked one summer at a hair salon. I trusted her. Why? Couldn't I just look at her hundred-braid hair and realize a short cut would not be her specialty?

But I was reading the magazine and having a great time until I came upon this article: "So You and Your Boyfriend Go to Different Colleges-Can It Work?"

They had all these stats about how few LDRs survive freshman year, and who cheats first, and all these way-too-easy-to-read pie charts that caught my eye when I tried to look away. The really big pieces of pie represented the couples that didn't make it.

"This is all a bunch of c.r.a.p," I said as I threw the magazine across the room.

"Oh, I know, I hate those magazines," Thyme said. "I just thought you might see a short hairstyle you want."

I tried to smile. But then I saw what Thyme had done to my hair, how much of it was on the floor, how little was left on my head.

If only I'd looked at the stupid celeb hair photos instead of the article that was far too relevant to my personal life. I'd still have good hair and wouldn't be depressed.

I called Grant to tell him about my new 'do. He couldn't talk for long because he has a bio exam tomorrow at 8. Quite obvious to me that his program is about 100 times more challenging than mine right now. I am stuck in Intro World. Everything's 101 and below.

Just got up to check my hair in the mirror again. "It's very, um, flattering," Mary Jo said. "It really shows off your ears."

I need new earrings. ASAP.

10/4.

"Courtney, you certainly look . . . unique."

This is Dean Sobransky's idea of a compliment. Isn't he supposed to be making students feel okay about themselves?

Turned out his so-called small talk about hairstyles was just his way of stopping by my cubicle so he could ask me about what happened on Sat.u.r.day. "Your little protest was, well, unique." Like that's the only word he knows how to use when he can't say anything nice.

"Thanks," I said. "We enjoyed it." I turned around to start dialing. Didn't even have a card ready for a person to call, but I didn't want to talk to him about my C-F-C ban idea.

He hovered by my cubicle, then actually put his hand over the thingy to hang up the phone. "But . . . er, well, of course you don't plan on continuing that," Dean S. said.

"Well . . ."

"Do you?"

"Umm . . ."

"Good. I'd hate to create such a diversion on campus . . . which could create division . . . which might lead to dissension . . ." Then he got to the real point. "Especially with Parents Weekend coming up! We need to put our best foot forward. Don't you agree?"

Totally forgot about Parents Weekend and the fact Dad has promised to come. Jotted down a note to call him before my shift was over to confirm.

Fortunately another Fun-Times Funder called Dean S. over to her cubicle just then. Wittenauer rushed over and asked if Sobransky was giving me a hard time.

"Parents Weekend is exactly why we have to keep it up, be vigilant," Corny insisted.

"Yeah, but it's different for you," I whispered. "You're in costume. You're happy corn. No one knows you're in on the whole thing."

"Don't give up," Wittenauer said. "We're all in this together, and we're going to make things happen here. Okay? Trust me." He rubbed my shoulder and I felt this weird pang. First human contact in 6 weeks. Okay, first boy contact. Hugging all the members of the food co-op when I met them doesn't count.

Went to Wanda's Wauza Beauty Shoppe this afternoon. Wanda gave me this sad look and started telling me if I wore more makeup and maybe got one of those push-up bras, maybe people wouldn't look at my hair so much. And I should come back in 36 months for a trim. A trim. Like I'll need one.

When Joe came over and saw my hair today, he just laughed. And laughed. And started calling me "Truth or Hairless." Like that's even a joke. Certainly not funny. Mary Jo was laughing, too. Too afraid to stand up to him and explain that it wasn't my fault.

10/5.

Tried to talk to Mary Jo today, about Joe. I think he is truly evil. Insists on calling me "Truth or Dairy Queen," which is not even a good name for a cross-dresser.

And also, I want our room back. Next thing you know he'll be sleeping over, and THAT CAN'T HAPPPEN.

So we went to breakfast together, and over dry bran cereal and a banana, I said, "Mary Jo, have you ever thought about . . . I don't know. Breaking up with Joe?"

She laughed. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Look at all the cute guys walking around," I said.

I should've looked up before I said that. I never realized that most hotties don't show up at the CF caf before 8 A.M. Lots of guys wearing sweats and carrying stacks of donuts do.

"Anyway, you could go out with any guy here you wanted to," I said.

"That's not true!" Mary Jo said. "Besides, I'm really happy with Joe. Why are you bringing this up? He didn't do anything to upset you, did he?" She looked very concerned as she b.u.t.tered a b.u.t.ter roll.

"Oh, no. Not at all," I said. She's so sweet sometimes, it kills me. I can't just demand that she break up with her boyfriend. That wouldn't be fair. I can, however, continue to strongly suggest it.

10/6.

Parents Weekend started tonight. Dad's coming tomorrow. Mary Jo's parents couldn't come because they're busy with a cow crisis, so 1 of her 6 brothers came-Ed. Mary Jo kept leaving us alone in the room while she went to look for Joe, who wasn't answering his phone. Joe was supposed to introduce her to his parents and then they'd all go out to dinner, but he never showed up. Mary Jo was completely devastated, not realizing that 1 meal without Joe wouldn't kill her and would only make her stronger. Maybe strong enough to dump him.

***ARE YOU READING THIS, JOE? I HOPE YOU ARE.

Anyway, Mr. Ed just sat there and stared at me, so I kept nervously talking. He kept smiling and nodding and laughing. He really needs to get out more, because I wasn't being very entertaining at all, plus I have a chopped pixie cut. I think they need to find 7 brides for 7 brothers. 6 brothers. Like, soon.

Later, after Ed finally convinced Mary Jo they should go to dinner without Joe, and after Ed made a dozen excuses for Joe in order to make MJ feel better (very sweet of him), I ran into Thyme in the hallway with her parents. She calls them "Mother" and "Father." Mother wears lots of plaid wool and expensive jewelry and calls Thyme "Morgan." Father wouldn't get off his cell phone, but did brusquely shake my hand. I think in their case the apple does fall far from the tree. Saw them pull away from dorm later in Jaguar, just as Dad was pulling up in rented mini-van. Mini-vans rule my life. Also ruin it.

Wait a second. Thyme said her family had lost all their money. So how can they drive a brand-new Jag?

10/7.

Work today was insanely busy. You don't want to know how many visiting parents want Knockwurst Knots for breakfast. Bluck. Shudder. Etc.

"This place is making so much money, it's disgusting," Mark/Marc/now Marque said as he shoved a wad of twenties into the safe. "The register is like overflowing. And we're making six seventy-five an hour? I don't think so."