Bologna sandwiches

This week is homecoming week at my college. Meaning there's something to do every night that is school sponsored, and then there's the something to do every night that is sponsored by Jack, Johnny, and the Captain. Since becoming an RA this past year, I've noticed that administrators think that RAs have a lot of free time and that they'll jump at the opportunity to do anything for the school. Well, that's not really how I think of my job. However, I gave up two hours of my Wednesday night to do a good deed for my school, judging men based on their physical appearance and how much derriere kissing they'd be willing to do. I was the only student judge, lucky me. The director of Res. Life and a professional staff member were the other judges. Those hosts were glad that I showed up to judge. They demanded that I share my bitchiness with the crowd. "Say whatever you want, whenever you want. Just jump right in!" Well, alright. I'm glad to know that my saltiness is known school wide by people I don't really know. After the show, one of my friends who had competed told me that the male host went backstage and said something along the lines of, "You know that chick judge? She's so fucking funny. She's going to rip all of you apart if you're not funny." Okay, he knows me pretty well I suppose. I think this is because I'm such a nasty cunt when I'm hypnotized, and I've done that twice.

The judges were told of all the contestants before hand and since my school is pretty small, I knew or knew of all of them. Two are friends, the other two I know of. One has called me a bitch for doing my RA duties. Let's just say he didn't win. Neither did underclassmen number 2, who has fucked around 5-10 girls since being in school for a whole month and a half, including one of my close friends. I tried to go into it without being too judgmental, but it got the worst of me. When I saw Mr. Fucksalot come out in his formal wear, I raised my hand to comment. "Yes, our judges seem to have some comments. What did you think of his formal attire?" "Oh, he was nicely dressed however, I have to call inappropriate use of a Mohawk," I replied. Mr. Fucksalot looked a little shocked as the audience laughed and clapped. He must think that just because he's on the football team that it's okay for someone over the age of 14 to have a mohawk.

We proceeded to the talent section and then to the Q&A section. As the contestants answered, I scored them. I was unbelievably biased. Even I was surprised at how bitchy I was being to the two underclassmen. When Mr. Fucksalot answered his "name something romantic you would do for a girl" question, I had to jump in. His talent had been making a grilled cheese sandwich on an ironing board. The male host saw me chomping at the bit to insult this poor boy. "Looks like our judges have a comment." "This is for contestant number four....is that a grilled cheese in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" He blushed as he pulled out a 3/4 eaten sandwich from his basketball shorts. It really was a grilled cheese sandwich in there. The crowd erupted in laughter as he pulled it out and took a bite then offered it to me. No, thanks Mr. Fucksalot, I'd really like to remain Herpes free for the moment.

After the show, several people commented on how funny I was, but I didn't really feel like I was being funny, I was just being a bitch because I'm horny. So, I tried to avoid prolonged conversation and get to my room as soon as possible to finish homework to take my mind off things. Didn't really work. So I ate a bologna and cheese sandwich and washed it down with some water. Bologna sandwiches always make me feel better, probably because my grandma always made me bologna sandwiches for lunch when I stayed at her house. I swore that she had a secret recipe for them when I was a kid because they didn't taste the same when I made them or when my parents made them for me. At Thanksgiving, she'd make me bologna sandwiches because I hate turkey. When I was ten, I finally asked her for her recipe. She wrote it down: "Two pieces of Wonder bread, Miracle Whip, Plochman's mustard, two slices of American cheese, and two slices of Oscar Mayer bologna. Spread Miracle Whip and mustard on each slice of bread, place one piece of cheese on top, then layer with bologna, and cheese until you end up with the last piece of bologna on top." Even after I had the recipe and I made it myself, it didn't taste as good. I called her to complain. "Well, there's another ingredient," she said. "Gramma! Why didn't you tell me? What is it?" "It's love, sweetie, that's the special ingredient."

I'll be 81 and eating bologna sandwiches thinking about that conversation and feeling the comfort of having had an amazing grandmother.