Sculpture 101

Hey everybody! Sorry about last week. My Internet was out at home and I wasn't about to write a 1,000 word document on my smart phone-are you impressed I have a smart phone? Good me too. I have enough problems with typos as it is. I did however end up going to the DMV instead of posting--I know exciting!--and was planning on telling you all about that glorious experience, but instead, I'm saving that for next week, and would like to share with you a story from my college years, mainly because I was thinking about it the other day, and realized that it is a story that needs to be shared.

Ok so I was in liberal arts college back in the day. And if you know anything about the advisers in any liberal arts college, you know that they are generally a bunch of free thinking aholes that encourage you to take classes that "you like" or that "sounds fun" without ever explaining that there are things in college called requirements that you must meet in order to graduate in 4 years. So. As a sophomore, baby Maria ends up taking 4 different Art classes for no reason, that don't end up meeting any of her major requirements. Don't get me wrong, I actually enjoyed these classes very much. But the fact that I wasn't planning on majoring in Art because I don't like living in a studio apartment and not bathing for weeks on end should have been brought to my attention before I wasted my precious Pell Grant on Sculpture 101. But so it goes.

Here we are in Sculpture 101. And I am confronted with the largest accumulation of Art People I have ever seen in one room at a time in my entire life. Art People are an interesting breed. Something you should know right off the bat is that they are exceptionally cooler than you. Its just a fact. Accept it and move on. Snuh. So here I am in this room filled with people that are cooler than me. And all I'm thinking is sweet, I get to play with clay for the next 3 hours.

I'm looking around at the Art People trying not to be intimidated, and notice that there is this little blond haired girl with a felt bag hanging by a string around her neck. Nothing that weird there. We are in an Art Class. I'm sure that's just where her soul resides when its not out being her Muse or whatever, I says to myself. But then I notice that the bag....is....moving. And she keeps making a point to touch the bag and move the bag, and makes sure that the other Art People are noticing her touch the bag and move the bag. Side Note**I'm a big eye watcher. Chances are if we meet, I'm going to watch where your eyes go, so that I can document the exact moment that you glance around for other peoples approval. Its just a thing I do that makes me feel better than you. Just let me have this please. Thank you**

 So this bag shifting and eye glancing continues as the Professor is talking and explaining how the year is going to go. About 30 minutes in, and blond chicky slowly reaches up to the felt bag, pulls the draw string and takes something out. Its in her hand and I cant see it very well. I just assume its a toy or her phone or something not alive. I am mistaken. She is holding in her hand, in the middle of Art class, a  fucking live creature. At first it looks like a hamster, but then after my initial shock wears off I realize that it is in fact, a baby flying squirrel. I shit you not. For those not aware, flying squirrels are much smaller than normal squirrels, which would explain how this one fit into a tiny felt bag on a string. This is what a flying squirrel look like: http://www.jandaexotics.com/images/Flying_squirrel.jpg

Now. I love small animals. I think we established that in my Small Pets post. I think they are cute and fun and interesting, even if I'm not very good at keeping them alive. But. To bring an animal into a college level class, and then to take it out, unprovoked while the professor is making his opening remarks? What the hell?

At this point I'm alternating between these 3 emotions: Jealousy--how the fuck did she get a flying squirrel, I want a flying squirrel, Curiosity--I wonder if she will let me hold it, god damn it I really want to hold that thing, and Annoyance--what the hell is wrong with you? You are holding a flying squirrel in the middle of a college class during a lecture by the professor and are in the center of a circle, and thus visible by everyone. Please fall off a cliff and don't survive.

At this point people are flat out staring, some of the more outspoken APs are making comments out loud about this spectacle, and the professor is trying very hard to ignore the fact that he is now competing for the Class' attention against something with a heart the size of a pea. Crazytown is fucking loving this. Shes eating it up. Shes got a hint of a smirk on her face and is staring directly at the professor with huge eyes like this is a completely normal thing that she is doing and that she is paying close attention to every word coming out of the professors mouth.

But Wait. It gets better.


Craytown realizes that the initial shock is wearing off. Shes losing the crowd, and she cant have that. Crowd loss at this point will result in an hour and a half of cutting in the bathroom when she gets home, so instead, she gently sets tiny baby flying squirrel #1 on her shoulder, and proceeds to reach in the felt bag and pull out tiny baby flying squirrel #2, AND tiny flying squirrel mama.



I'm about ready to spontaneously combust. What the Fuck is going on? Why isn't anyone acknowledging how messed up this is? Why isn't the professor telling her to put her live animal friends back in the felt bag from whence they came? My OCD and anxiety are on overdrive and internally I'm having 15 strokes.
 

 I'd like to tell you that the professor put a stop to this insanity and made Crazytown feels stupid about her child-ish need for attention. I'd like to tell you that Crazytown was embarrassed and that for the rest of the semester she was normal and didn't resort to extreme measures to get what she craved. I also really wish I could tell you I went up to her after class to say something kind in the hopes of easing her embarrassment and thus was allowed to hold tiny baby flying squirrel #2. I wish I could tell you these things. But I can't. Crazytown continued to bring the squirrels to class until the Professor, after 3 weeks of this nonsense, finally asked her in a far too nice tone to "please stop taking the animals out in class" to which Crazytown simply shrugged and roller her eyes like he asked her to stop chewing her gum so loud.


The morale of the story is as follows: If you own a baby flying squirrel(s) that you carry around in a bag on your neck, for the love of Christy Brinkley, don't be a douche: let me hold one.