i like to MUITO, MUITO...?

By now, I'm sure you're sick and tired of my Portuguese stories, so I promise this one will be short, but I just had to tell you what I did, today.

In class, we split into groups of three. Of course, I was with Mr. Annoying, and another boy. A very, very sweet, kind RM. We'll call him RM. Our professor listed a bunch of activities on the board we, as a group, could chose to do to help us use Portuguese words...or something along those lines.

The list was something like

• recite a poem together
• count to 50
• sing happy birthday
• sing "i like to move it" from madagascar

Yeah, guess which my group chose? Yup. To sing that stupid "I like to move it, move it" song. In Portuguese.

So the three of us graced our class with, what I'm sure was a beautiful version of King Julian's obnoxious, yet catchy song.

RM and Mr. Annoying had this baby down. RM even drummed the rhythm with his pencil and my pen very seriously.

My version went something like this, ::mumble:: ::mumble:: ::mumble:: muito, muito ::mumble:: ::mumble::

Apparently 'muito' means something along the lines of "move it." Even though I swear it doesn't. I thought that word meant 'very' or 'many.' I guess I don't know as much as I thought I did.

I go to college. I have adventures.

If you've read my previous post, you will recall that there is a boy who really enjoys pressing my buttons in my Portuguese class. Well, I have another story for you, regarding him, yet, again.

K. So I was just sitting in Portuguese, focusing all I could on the lesson, when Mr. Annoying leans over {yes, he sat next to me, again, today} and sets a piece of paper on my desk.

Below, I've scanned in our note... But you just can't read his light pencil, he chose to use. So, allow me to interpret... And give you the background details, too, of course.

He passes it to me, and it says:

"Chelsea

I really admire your work ethic and hard work in class. Don't give up on whatever your dream may be. I can't wait to get to know you better as class progresses.

Mr. Annoying {except, it says his real name}"

I look at the paper, don't touch it, read it, then look back up at the professor. Aka I ignored him.

Mr. Annoying sits there, staring at me, for a few minutes, then leans over, grabs the paper off my desk, scribbles some words on it, and hands it back to me.

I read what he said... It looked like it said "doss Gack." I don't know what that means, though. So I ignored it. Then he leaned over, again, and whispered evily, "Pass back!"

I decided to have some fun with him, so I picked up the paper, and passed it back to him. He grabbed the paper, glared at me, set it back on my desk and told me I had to write on it.

So, then I write:

"Oh, thanks!"

...and pass it back...

He writes, passes it back to me:

"I can help you with your portuguese since your so behind"

{what a poo. why would he say that?!}

I write back:

"Well, thanks, but I'm doing study group and signed up to go to the tutor and, I know some people who can help me out."

I pass it to him, he passes it back... (I felt like I was in fifth grade with all this note passing)

"Your waisting paper"

Uhm.. What? Thanks, dude.

I mean, really. I don't even know what he meant by that.

Oh, and by the way, I'm spelling everything as he spelled it. I didn't make those spelling and grammar mistakes, just so you know.

I take a minute...and write back:

"Okay : )"

He takes it, glares, again...his favorite facial expression, I think, and writes back:

"Whatever"

I didn't pass the note back, after that.

Here is the original, hard-to-read copy.

He's just adorable, right?! He is the creepiest slash worst flirt I've met, and believe me, I've met some weird and creepy flirts, before! Here is what really bothers me, though. I wear a wedding ring to school...its job is to ward off weird-ee's who may try to come onto me, and usually, it works. Not this time, though, of course. With my moms help, we decided next time he tries to "flirt," I'm going to have to give him the speech, "Hi, I'm married, my husband wouldn't approve of your creeper actions, I suggest you stop..." You know, that kind of stuff..

So that was that.

Then, I'm walking back to my car. More like, I'm hiking back to my car, up and down the 702.69 stairs I have to travel across and up the multiple hills, that are all most likely a 98 degree incline, and at the first cross walk I cross, a big, white "pimped-out" suburban pulls up next to me with a handsome looking college boy, who politely asks, "Can I drive you to where you need to be?!" Sure, sure, he was attractive, but my inner stranger-danger alarm was going BEEEEEP BEEEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!! I turned him down, telling him my car was just up that hill {that really, really steep, hot, dirty hill} and that I'd be fine. He then continues with, "are you sure? Its kind of a long way..." "Its hot outside..." "Its no problem for me..." Ick. Don't worry, I stuck to my gut feeling and kept rejecting his not-so-kind-sounding-now, offers, and went back to walking up the hill of evil. That guy wanted me in his car waaaayyy to badly. Again, I say it, ick.

Then, I'm about mid-hill, and a little beat-up, quite dumpy looking greenish/brown car pulls up to me. Guess what was inside?! Mr. Annoying!!! GAH! Can't catch a break! "Hey, Chelsea, can I drive you to your car or your apartment?!"

First of all, ew. Second of all, ew. And third of all, H no! you can't Mr. Annoying! Why would I want you knowing where I live or what my car looks like!

I told him, not as sweetly, as I did the first guy, my car was just in the parking lot to my right and I'd be fine. Mr. Annoying continues with, "We should talk and get to know each other, more!" This time, I glared. Said, no thanks, and the car behind him honked and he drove away.

Dear Driver of the Car Behind Mr. Annoying,

I love you. We should be friends.

Love, Chels

That was my college adventure, today.

Since I was at school, and I just get filled with knowledge there, let me briefly tell you what I learned.

1. Mr. Annoying is still really annoying, and writes stupid notes.

2. Even handsome guys, in pimped-out suburbans can be freak-show attackers.

3. My inner stranger-danger alarm is working well.

4. I should find a new parking spot that doesn't require so much hiking, etc.

5. My backpack probably weighs more than my dad.

boha {translation: stupid}

You know that song on Wicked called Loathing? Please, play that through your head while you read this post. It will really help capture the emotion I'll be trying to portray. Thanks.

College has started, and I went into this semester with a shocking, gung-ho attitude. I was ready to dominate all my classes, get amazing grades, make new friends, and all that college life jazz. Basically, my intentions were really high. This semester was my semester. Was... {sigh..}

This ^^^ happy-go-lucky attitude of mine was instantly crushed when I walked into my Portuguese class. My beginners Portuguese class. My Portuguese class you're supposed to go into have no, zip, zilch, zippo, prior knowledge or experience with the Portuguese language.

Um, hi. I walk in, sit down, and guess what I find out? My entire, and this is no exaggeration, I swear, entire class of "beginners" in Portuguese, speak the language, if not fluently, almost fluently.

It all comes down to this, they know the language. I know the language NOT.

My lovely professor has apparently decided to pay no attention to little struggling me. I guess in her mind, because 99% of the class knows the language, she can go on her merry way and keep on progressing with the lessons, having almost solid Portuguese conversations with the whole class. Oh, wait. Not the whole class. There is that little underdog Chelsea who is so utterly lost, she is constantly contemplating running, screaming out of the classroom in a fit of frustration, anger, embarrassment, confusion, etc.

What makes the matters worse, is I sit next to this guy. This guy who I'd enjoy stabbing in the eyeball with a pen. He is an RM, who {of course} served in Brazil, and consequently speaks beautiful, fluent Portuguese. Upon first meeting Mr. RM, I thought BOO-YAH! this class will be an easy A because he'll help me. Boy, was I wrong. He. Is. A. Jerk. A big ol' nerdy, evil, goody-two-shoes, thinks he's Mr. perfect, know-it-all, jerk. The two of us are often paired together since we sit next to each other. Actually, let me rephrase that. Since he sits next to me. I try to avoid him and his arrogant ways, but no matter where I sit, he always manages to weasel his intelligent little body to the seat right next to mine. I'm pretty sure he's trying to impress me. Trying to flirt with me... Well, he's terrible at it. Anyway... So we're partnered a lot. He thinks he's so fancy, so sometimes he'll talk to me in only Portuguese. Or laugh as I struggle through taking notes, trying to spell things right, and remember what I'm speedily being taught. I want to slug him. I could probably take him.

Dear Know-It-All Partner,

Congratulations in being fluent in this language. I'm proud of you. Good for you, for serving a mission. You rock. But guess what?! You are in a BEGINNERS Portuguese class, and I am a beginner. Yes, I'm the only beginner, but still... Just, be nice to me, you big weird-o.

Love, {kinda}

Chels

Here's an example or two. Today we learned, in Brazil, if someone were to ask you if you like their cooking, basically you just say "oooooooooo," very dramatically. ....We had to ask questions back-and-fourth with our partners, and of course, this is what RM asks me. But he didn't ask me in English. He asked me in Portuguese. Normally, that'd be okay in a Portuguese class, but he knows all too well, I barely speak it. So really, its just freaking annoying, and he knows it. I don't know how the heck you say "Do you like my cooking?" in that language... So I stared at him, trying to hold myself back from snapping his glasses in half. He then says in a snotty, I'm-clearly-so-much-better-than-you, voice, "Do you like my cooking?" I answer him very unenthusiastically, "oooooo." Stupid.

Our professor allows us to look at our notes when we're practicing conversations with each other... So silly me to think I actually can do that. Any time I'm paired up with Mr. Meanie, and I start to look at my notes, he scolds me, "Don't look at your notes. You won't learn that way." I ignore him, look at my notes, and answer, most likely butchering the pronunciation, which I know ticks him off. So in a way, I totally love the fact I'm the worst at Portuguese.

Now besides all that, I have some more venting to do.

Is that annoying?! For goodness sakes, this class is supposed to be filled with a bunch of clueless English speakers. Yet, instead, its a bunch of talented, bilingual students, and Chelsea, who is very jealous of them, all.

In my defense, I do know some Portuguese. Just look at the title of this post! I'm learning it, but only because I study my little bum off at home, since my professor moves at the fastest pace, EVER. If this were truly a class of beginners, I'd probably be doing just fine, but because I have such fabulous luck, of course I'm in a class with a bunch of braniacs. Really, could this be cooler? {said insanely sarcastically.}

Looks like I'm going to have to break out some serious yoga and mediation to deal with the stress of my enemy language. Portuguese.