You Did Not...And What Did HE Say?

Before I went to college and found other slightly degrading but hilarious hobbies, my favourite thing to do after school was Mugu-baiting. Mugus are online scammers, mostly from Nigeria, (the word Mugu is Nigerian slang for scammer) who spin a sad yarn about how they want to come to America to find true love / their father-sister-aunt-hairstylist's dog died thus leaving them alone in the world / they have an ass-load of money that they don't want, and boy howdy they'd love to give it to you. Somehow they manage to fool some people into giving them their bank account numbers and suddenly they stop contacting their now-penniless benefactor.

Mugus are seriously probably the funniest people I have ever encountered, but the scam-baiters who mess with them are even funnier. One guy posed as Donny Osmond and successfully baited probably 50 or more scammers. You can check out his website here. Reading through these and laughing my ass off, I decided I wanted to be just like Donny Osmond, so I waited until someone sent me an e-mail and off I went. I failed, since the scammer figured out that I was stringing him along pretty quickly - I had sent him Jennifer Lopez's picture and driver's license from the Internet, and I guess he knew who she was. Oh well, better luck next time.

But wait! Next time is right now! Here on My Opera, there was a gentleman who decided he wanted to e-mail me. He tells me that he is a good Catholic gentleman (whoop-di-doo) and that although he is 49 (his picture is of a guy who's at least 60) he believes that true love knows no numbers. He gave me his yahoo e-mail address like seven times in the first e-mail. Dare I?
I sent him back an e-mail telling him I was married. Sometimes I think I screw myself out of fun. I'm going to go play the Sims 2 now.

The college students have descended upon us! Hordes of whiny semi-adults, eager to spend their parents' money on booze and drugs [and the occasional textbook] have oozed into my town, and this weekend is their official moving-in before classes commence on Monday. Now, I generally have no problem with these people, despite the previous two sentences. They can be fun to hang out with, and once in a while, they're actually intelligent, but for the most part, they get in my way.

When I attended a different college across the state as a freshman, I was absolutely astounded by the lack of interest in learning that I encountered. I was always at least fifteen minutes early to class (I would seriously drag my ass up a steep hill, CHEERFULLY, in the freezing New York State winters), armed with notebooks and pens and my ears were always pricked for gems of knowledge from my almighty professors. However, my classmates didn't seem to give less of a shit.
My Sociology professor discussed this with the class once. This man was a saint - every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 10.00, he would stand there in front of twenty or so students that just didn't give a damn and lecture about the most interesting things, trying to entertain them as much as possible, but eventually finding it useless. So, after about the fiftieth time that he caught one particular "young lady" [term used extremely loosely] texting behind her massive purse, he threw a small piece of chalk at her that hit her squarely on the hand, and asked the class, "Why the HELL are you here?"
I put my hand up, of course, happy to answer him. "Well, Dr. G, I'm here because I want to become a history professor and teach other people what I know."
"Thanks, Sasha, but I wasn't really asking you. I know why YOU'RE here. Why is everyone ELSE here?"
Quite a few people mentioned sports - my school had a fairly good basketball team and that's how some had got in. Dr. G shook his head sadly and muttered something in Lithuanian about sports scholarships coming from the devil's asshole. A majority said for "Greek life." There were quite a few sororities and fraternities on campus [and even more off campus] that would pretty much accept all of the pretty, empty-headed dregs of humanity, and Super Texter happened to be a member of one of the most active sororities. She immediately screeched that she was proud to be a member of Kappa...Phi..Gibberish...and she would love her sisters forever. That got a snort from Dr. G and myself. Having grown up around academia, I know exactly how long "forever" lasts with these things. They graduate and pretty much lose touch with each other. They marry and have families of their own, and when a "sister" calls them up drunk one night, they slam the phone down and tell the mister it was a wrong number.
Both Dr. G and I were horrified by these responses. Why bother to come to college if you're not willing to do the most important part? Sure, campus living is fun [from what I can tell, I never experienced it first-hand] and you make great friends, etc etc, but remember, you're shelling out upwards of $10,000 a year. You aren't there for a social club - you are there to prepare for the rest of your life.

People sometimes view college as a necessity to make more money. I think that's pure bollocks. I love learning, which I understand not everyone does, but seriously, take some enjoyment in what you're doing. Pick classes that you're interested in. If you're Muslim, take History of Islam. If you're into music, take some Music Appreciation. If you like to write, take Creative Writing. Don't just take Gen. Ed then plow on through your specialty, wishing to God that the four or more years were over so you can start making the big bucks already. College is about doing new things, and not just snorting lines off of a sorority girl's toned stomach.
That being said: don't come to class with a hangover. No one likes the smell of last night's party on you - that's not perfume, that's disgusting. Read the damn book and take notes, it'll take, what, an hour or two of your precious time? You can play Halo 3 all you want after you finish studying. Go to your professor in his/her office hours if you have questions - they actually DON'T MIND. That's what office hours are for. And for the love of God, leave your phone in your dorm. No one likes it when the professor has to interrupt class to throw chalk at you.