The Scab Eaters of the Future

So it's official. Every single person in my Business Law class on Tuesday nights has something wrong with them. EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON. Including me... but you already know that I have something wrong with me, it's called myself.

But today, I'm not ranting about myself. I am ranting about the ick that is in my class. But first, some context on why I am there. I am a Prelaw minor, one of my core classes is BUSINESS LAW. The law of business is quite simple: is it ethical? No? THEN DON'T DO IT. Oh, and pay your employees and don't discriminate. And don't fuck with minors... contractually at least.

The class is quite easy, the lectures boring as hell (not due to the professor, but due to the material being presented STRAIGHT OUT OF THE BOOK), and the thing that keeps me entertained for 2 to 2.5 hours is the people in the class. Each person brings with them a new level of discovery for me. So far, I've learned business law is the home for the future scab eaters.

No, I'm not kidding.

There are maybe forty people in the class registered and usually only thirty people are there every class. Unfortunately, I am one of those people. I attend SOLELY on the basis that I want to get my moneys worth. I really have no reason to attend this class. I really do just sit there, drawing what appears to be a farm of obscure bunnies and text messaging people off of Nigel. Oh, and I sit and stare are the people in this class. Why? Because honestly, you just have to.

There is one greasy guy who has hit on every girl in the entire class, myself included. I flashed the fake engagement ring (I did it before Tom, but not I do it for Tom) and he still didn't take the hint. This guy is relentless. He didn't take the hint when THREE of us (at the same time) said: "You're not getting up in this vagina. Beat it." He probably did when he got home too.

There is this one guy who always has a computer. I have no problem with people who use computers to do their work during class, but I know that if given a computer I would sit around and update my blog and not pay attention. This guy, obviously, does the same thing that I do. Last night he checked ebay for some items (he is currently bidding on a 1974 issue toliet seat... no I'm not kidding). He also played online poker, badly I might add. I'm watching him like "YOU HAVE NOTHING YOU MORON, FOLD!" But he kept betting... moron.

There is the guy who always falls asleep next to me. He drools. I've made a nice system. I'm okay next to this guy, we talk formally - usually about how we could get out of class early if the professor would stop talking about his clients and just plow through the material. However, you have to have enough room to breathe. When he drools, the water works turn on. And as funny as it is to think I'll get hit with someone else's drool, I'm not down with that. So I have a nice boundary of YOUR SIDE and MY SIDE. I wake him for anything important. As you can tell, this guy and I have a nice "table relationship."

There is the girl that took the ELEVATOR out of spite. She knows I hate the elevator, and yet she took it. I walked all 48 steps down from the third floor to the first floor, waited for her to get off the elevator so I could say ONLY THIS to her: Pussy.

There is the guy who has a wound on his left elbow and has for the entire duration of this class. Why? He picks at it every Tuesday night. Let's be honest. This guy picks his scab, EATS the scab, then LICKS all the blood. There is a picker, eater and licker in the same person. I'm terrified that I'm going to get some random ass blood disease from him.

There is the girl that talks to everyone that no one likes. Stop playing the airhead, you're in a 300-level class. HUMOR ME AND ACT LIKE YOU HAVE A BRAIN. Thanks, and while your at it stop flirting with the married man next to you.

There is the professor that called the Corpse Bride "interesting." For that reason alone, I totally plan to give him a mild report at the end of the semester. We don't call Tim Burton's work "interesting," we call it GENIUS!

And then, there's the girl who thinks that WHITE IS NOT A RACE. I know her through Tom, but due to clashing personalities I don't talk to her if I can help it. She's got a "holier than thou" attitude that I can't deal with. Third class and we may have formally talked three, maybe four times. Each time was because Tom was there and it just progressed from there. She currently bitches that he doesn't call her - I'm half tempted to tell her ITS BECAUSE HE'S WITH ME AND NOT YOU... STEP OFF BITCH. But she's leggy. And no one should trust a leggy person. Tom does spider legs on me and it's like DAMNIT I SHOULD NOT TRUST YOU, YOU LEGGY BASTARD! Anyways, last night someone said that white men under 40 are not protected by an anti-discriminatory law. And someone said, they technically are under race. And this girl, who shall remain nameless said, WHITES NOT A RACE.

So there you have it, the future wannabe-lawyers of America. The eat scabs, they fall asleep and they believe that white's not a race. And now you know why its more fun to watch the people than to listen to the professor. They are all so... special... in their own little unique way.


At 9:46 AM, October 12, 2005 , Anonymous Tommy said...

...maybe it's because I'm Irish.

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