Love and Other Things I'm Bad At (13 page)

10/16

Mary Jo and I got into a huge fight this morning because I told her that Joe was only using her. She said he wasn’t and that I was really mean to say that, and only someone as “jaded and skanky” as me would have such an evil thought.

Jaded and skanky? Sounds like a kids’ show. 2 new dwarves have been added to “Snow White”: Jaded and Skanky! Oh—don’t forget Critical. I’m just getting so many compliments lately, I can hardly keep track of them all.

Can I help it if I’ve gone on a
few
more dates than Mary Jo? Which isn’t her fault. And it isn’t my fault. She should trust me when it comes to Joe.

Want him to drop out of this school and stop ruining Mary Jo’s life, and, by transitive property, my life. I hope he flunks out. Soon. Sometimes I feel like I am more involved in their relationship than my own. But that’s because theirs is in town and mine isn’t. Where is mine, exactly?

10/17

Mary Jo and I are talking again. Or rather, we were, for about 3 minutes. Mary Jo aced her bio midterm yesterday; Joe didn’t. So after they got their midterms back, he broke up with her again.

Mary Jo very upset. So upset that she mistakenly started talking to me again; forgot about silent treatment.

I tried not to say “I told you so,” but I’m not very good at that. I have this thing where I just really really enjoy being right. Except that I wasn’t enjoying it, because Mary Jo started crying again. Whatever I said came out totally wrong, and she went out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

“What was that all about?” Thyme asked, coming across the hall. Behind her, loud reggae music blared. “There is way too much hostility around here. I think it’s because of the asbestos in the carpeting.”

“No, it isn’t,” I said. “There’s nothing wrong with this dorm! Except the people in it.” Then I slammed the door in her face. I really don’t know what came over me.

Oh crap. Now Thyme hates me. Mary Jo hates me. Krystyne came by, pretending she wanted to “chat,” but was fishing for information to fill out her weekly “conflict report” to the housing office.

10/18

Mary Jo is on a hunger strike. I went to get a fruit juice from the fridge tonight, and discovered the cupboard is bare. Completely. “What happened to all the food in here?” I asked.

“Oh, I got rid of it all,” she said.

For a split second I wondered if she ate it all. One of those breakup-induced binges. But she said she threw it out because her sponsor told her to remove temptation from her life.

“Sponsor?” I asked. “Temptation?”

She’s joined some on-campus group that makes it sound like dieting is a religion.

“How about if you just sort of cut back?” I suggested. “You only have like five pounds to lose, at most. At most! And you look fine anyway and shouldn’t worry about what Joe said.”

“Easy for you to say,” Mary Jo grumbled. “You’ve dropped at least ten pounds since we got here
and
you have a terrific guy back home waiting for you.” She made it sound like we were off at war together, sharing a bunker.

Then she showed me all these brochures from this weight-loss group. Scary. She’s convinced she’ll get Joe back if she does this. Should I throw this stuff out so it can’t work?

Meanwhile, I’m supposed to be organizing this giant rally for Saturday, have to meet with the group tomorrow. Need new ideas.

10/19

Where is Grant when I need him? Not home again. Left a message. Just got back from huge party at Mark/Marc/Marque’s house. One of his roommates has it every fall, and it’s called the “Oshkosh Slosh,” because he’s from Oshkosh and so are a bunch of people here. I didn’t get sloshed, but I did dance a lot. Maybe a little sloshed, earlier, but switched over to water 3 glasses ago.

Funny thing happened. Was talking to Marque about Grant and how much I miss Grant and so he asked if I had a picture. Which I do in my wallet. Crumpled but still cute. So I was showing it to him and he was totally impressed. Marque and I sat on the stairs and talked for an hour about relationships and how hard they are and how great they are, etc.

Then Marque asked if I worry about Grant being with other women, because after all he is hot. Marque said if he dated Grant he wouldn’t let him out of his sight. I thought that was very funny so I kept laughing. Then suddenly it wasn’t funny and I was almost crying. Then Marque hugged me and said just because he was paranoid and insecure didn’t mean I had to be.

Then a bunch of Badicals showed up and we all danced and I forgot about missing Grant. At one point I did tipsily harass Wittenauer about his first name, and he said as if his initials weren’t bad enough, he was also a 3. What? I asked. He’s a lot cuter than that, I thought. Why was he rating himself only a 3?

Then he cracked up laughing and said he had a 3 at the end of his name. Like Junior, but a III. So his initials are actually WW III. Can you even believe that?

“I’m surprised you can spend so much time trying to change the college name,” I said. “Don’t you want to spend all your time changing your
own
initials?”

“Is there a group for that?” he asked. “Do you want to organize one?”

“Actually, yeah,” I said. “But I’ll tell you my middle initials some other time.”

What a fun party. I really need to go to more parties.

10/20

I have decided not to drink at any more parties. Or drink anymore at parties. Or even go to parties. Not fun.

Have a major headache, still, and lost my wallet last night. I have no idea where. Completely irresponsible of me. I’ve retraced my steps—well, okay, so I can’t remember every single step. I’m not Thyme. She did use her photographic memory to go through all the routes we walked together.

Funny how easy it was to make up with Mary Jo and Thyme. Perhaps Thyme’s photographic memory is failing and she doesn’t remember me shutting the door in her face?

I skimmed the Lost & Found section of the paper, and I’ve been to every Lost & Found desk there is.

“A wallet? Er, no,” everyone said, trying not to laugh, as if everyone knows that no one ever turns in stolen wallets.

It’s not like I had much in there.

Just my entire
life
history
. My complete identity.

Feel very weird about hanging out and laughing with Corny last night. Like I did something wrong, had too much fun or something, and now must be punished.

Which is why Krystyne just came by and told me I had to go to a housing workshop tomorrow at 1
P.M.
Mandatory.

10/21

Housing office called it “So You Got Off on the Wrong Foot: A Remedial Roommate Workshop.”

I called it “Three Hours of My Life—Gone.”

Mary Jo and I were there, along with Thyme and Kirsten and about 50 other miserable-looking students. Housing office won’t let you move, but will spend time and money to force you to get along?

We had to do all these really stupid exercises to rebuild trust. Then we were supposed to turn to each other and each person got 2 minutes of “freestyle open expression.” I went first, and I didn’t even talk for 2 minutes, and if I did, it was all about Joe and what a bad choice he was for Mary Jo and how I wanted to protect her from him.

Mary Jo then started her rant and couldn’t stop. She said, “No wonder you want to change the school’s name. You don’t agree with
anything
. You think everything should be one way,
your way
, and when it’s not, you decide it’s wrong,” blah blah blah. I stopped listening, which was a mistake, because part of the exercise required repeating back what she had said.

“You never listen!” Mary Jo cried. “That’s another thing that drives me crazy.”

We left there with a giant 3-ring binder called “Cope, Don’t Mope.” And some extra credit that has to count
some
where.

10/23

There was some mail waiting for me today. Not the good kind. The kind that comes from the bank when your account is overdrawn. Well, of course it is, I thought—my
wallet
was stolen, my
Tyme card
was stolen—I’d already called the bank to report this, so I’m not responsible.

I went down to the bank to talk with a customer service rep. Unfortunately I got the same cranky woman who couldn’t spell my middle name and lectured me on balancing my checkbook and not bouncing checks. “I was just about to call you, Ms. Vun Dragoon Smith,” she said. Like I was about to make her day, because she could get all her bitchiness out in one customer transaction and then go home early. I tried to explain that the checks had bounced because someone stole my Tyme card. I told her I’d never actually written a bad check.

“Do you understand the
concept
of checking at all?” she said, as if I were 7 years old. “Listen, you are in big trouble here with us. And I warned you, didn’t I?”

“But don’t you see? We’re dealing with a case of identity theft,” I said. “Didn’t you see that Sandra Bullock movie?” I explained how easy it was to have someone take your name, everything about you, and start acting like you, and start spending money like you—

Then she went to a file and came back with my signature card, and also photocopies of the bounced checks. They were all ones I’d written myself. A few of them while slightly impaired, apparently. Couldn’t quite make out who they were to. It had nothing to do with my Tyme card.

“I’m sorry. Your account has been closed. Permanently,” she said. “And you owe us two hundred dollars in fees.”

Then she smiled. Yeah, she’s so
sorry
. She lives for this.

10/25

Excellent news. Marque found my wallet at his house! Took him out to Koffee Kitchen to celebrate. After we ordered I realized I had no cash. Had to ask him to cover the meal. Very embarrassing. Now owe him 2 lunches.

Called Grant on the sly from Funders today. Told him about finding my wallet and joked how Marque was only keeping it because he thought Grant’s photo was cute. He didn’t even
laugh
. He was all preoccupied with something.

When I hung up the phone I felt vaguely insulted. Like it wasn’t exciting to hear from me?

Went over to find Wittenauer, but he was wrapped up in a call to some former senator, discussing the needs of higher education.

What about
my
needs?

10/26

Mental breakdown. Sampled one of our Brat Blankets and a Knockwurst Knot today. I should have known it was only a matter of time, after all I do have this weakness for hot dogs. Also I’m completely broke and need free protein.

Anyway. They were actually almost yummy. Delicious. Way better than Oscar’s cheapo hot dogs.

Sorry, body.

Sorry, PETA.

Sorry, cow somewhere, pig, whatever.

It’s just that everyone was talking about how good they were, and they did smell good, and . . . well, there’s no
excuse
, really. And I did pay for it afterward because my stomach went into a panic. So I don’t think I should be criticized, especially not in my very own journal, so just
back off
.

Wow. Meat really brings out the testosterone in me. I’m yelling at a notebook.

Afterward I was hanging out with Thyme in student coffeehouse. She kept talking about how healthy she’s felt ever since she purified her body, and I was sitting there listening to rumbling of digesting bratwurst.

Why do I have this capacity to just toss my convictions aside when a situation gets too difficult? I’m really not a credit to the cause. To
any
cause.

10/27

Must revise earlier statements about cows. Turns out they are much smarter than I thought. Also somewhat vindictive.

I went for a bike ride this afternoon. There’s this bike path on the outskirts of town, so I thought I’d check it out now that weather has warmed up, snow has melted. Also I’ve been feeling very flabby from eating too much junk food, too much meat, not enough fruit unless you count fruit roll-ups.

So I was riding along—sunny afternoon, rapidly turning cloudy, but trying to ignore that. The path turned so that it was sandwiched between 2 cow pastures. Cows seemed cute to me. Lounging, gnawing on grass, etc. Then I turned a corner and a cow was standing right in front of me. It had somehow escaped from the pasture.

Decided to ride past; wasn’t going to let 1 Holstein get in my way. Kept going. Suddenly 3 cows in front of me. Then 2 more. Farther ahead, cows standing in a line, barring bike path. Giant hole in barbed-wire fence suddenly very obvious.

Cows seeking revenge on me! Bad karma from eating meat yesterday.

“I’m sorry!” I yelled. “I’m really, really sorry. It won’t happen again!”

Cows ignored apology. Well, of course they would—it was a bratwurst, not a hamburger. Started coming toward me. Turned and sprinted back past 1 lonely cow that started cantering beside me, hooves clicking on bike path, my heart pounding in my throat. Courtney vs. Cows. Felt like Lance Armstrong as I raced all the way back to campus. But much, much slower.

From now on, no eating meat. Or maybe no riding bike in the country. To get cow karma back, I will only say nice things about milk, cheese, cottage cheese, sour cream, ice cream. All dairy products are bright and beautiful. And dairy cows rule.

Next time I need to at least bring some carrots or hay or whatever it is cows like to eat. But that might make them chase me more. Probably not a good idea.

So to make amends, Thyme and I went to fish fry at Brat Wurstenburger tonight. I’d heard it was a popular Friday-night thing, but didn’t realize—the place was
packed
. Thyme kept asking our server, named Dot, whether the fish had come from polluted waters and whether they were actually fresh. Dot got this little eye twitch as she listened to Thyme, but kept answering her politely, telling her the perch came from lakes nearby, she knew all the fishermen who caught them—

“Fisher
people
, you mean,” Thyme said.

“I’ve known them for years, two of them are my sons, and they’re named Steve, Eric, John, and Wayne,” Dot said curtly.

“She didn’t have to be so rude about it,” Thyme complained after Dot left. Like Thyme hadn’t been as rude as possible herself.