She Doesn't Even Go Here!

I graduated from college in May.  I was so ready to be done with that place and start the next chapter in my life.

But somehow come August I found myself on campus again... sleeping in my old roommate's bed in her on-campus apartment right across from our old apartment.  So much for moving on with my life.

The first day of classes I showed up in all of my old professors' offices and even went to a couple of their classes.  Everyone who saw me was confused... "Wait, didn't you graduate?"  "Abby, what are you doing here?"  "Shouldn't you be working or something?"

A devoted Mean Girls fan, one line kept ringing in my head--"She doesn't even go here!"

I stayed at Point Loma Nazarene University for the first week and a half of the fall semester.  After I had thoroughly worn out my welcome, it was finally time to move on.  On to Ann Arbor, where I would finally be getting a job and being an "adult."

So I moved into my new where I live primarily with University of Michigan graduate students.  "What are you going to school for?" a couple of them asked me when we met.  "Umm... I'm not actually in school right now..."

I got a job at a cafe on the UM campus, which also just happens to be two blocks from my house.  Since my work is on campus, I even have a UM ID card.

Every single person I meet automatically assumes I am a UM student.  I wear my Michigan shirt, hang out with students, go to the bars that students frequent... and basically do everything I can to make it seem like I am a student.

Every single time someone asks me what I'm majoring in or what year I am, the same thing pops into my head--"She doesn't even go here!"

Fortunately Tina Fey has yet to show up and kick me out.  Maybe someday I'll stop pretending I'm still in college, but until then I'm just trying to bake my cake full of rainbows and smiles, hoping we can all eat and be happy.

At a UM football game in the student section with my housemate Andrew, a real UM student

Accident-prone

"Why did you fall?" the nurse asked me.  I guess just telling her I hit my head on a concrete wall wasn't enough information.

"Well, I had been drinking..."

"Okay.  Was this in any way related to domestic violence?  Did someone push you?"

"Nope.  I just fell."

Less than three weeks after college graduation and I was in Urgent Care in Novato.

"Do you drink a lot?" the doctor asked me when he came in.

"No, not a lot... I mean, I had a lot that night..."

I can understand why the doctor at Novato Urgent Care would think I drink a lot, though.  Less than three months earlier I had been in this same Urgent Care, this same room even, with another drinking-related injury.  The first day of Spring Break I had come into Urgent Care on my way to my aunt's beach house just to make sure I hadn't broken my foot when I fell in a parking lot the night before.  A few quick x-rays determined that there was no break; I had just torn some ligaments.

I was lucky this time, too.  The doctor told me I did not have a concussion, which was a relief.  That might be the reason Novato has my favorite Urgent Care: they always give me good news, and it never takes more than half an hour.

Last time I went to Urgent Care in San Diego, though... wow.  I guess the San Diego Urgent Care wasn't too bad; it was really the Emergency Room that kept me waiting.

The week of my 21st birthday I was having some serious trouble breathing, so my friend Julianne took me to the Urgent Care.  They didn't have the equipment to run the necessary tests, so he redirected me to the Emergency Room.  Six hours in the ER revealed that I did not have a pulmonary embolism (thank God!), but just had some swelling around my lungs.

Three trips to Urgent Care may seem like a lot, but this is something I have done my whole life.  The first trip I remember was to the Urgent Care in Sonora when I was 11 after I had gone off a water slide into a 3" rusty nail.  I remember grabbing my foot and pulling out what I thought was a twig.  After an emergency tetanus shot and walking on the side of my foot for a few days, though, I was fine.

My trips to the Urgent Care started before I was even a year old, my mom tells me.  I have been to Urgent Care facilities in Lodi, Sonora, Eureka, San Diego, and Novato.

A couple years ago I was sitting in a doctor's office after I had fallen at a park in Eureka (not drinking related) and the doctor was taking a look at my medical history.  "Are you accident-prone?" he asked me.

I laughed.  Accident-prone.  I guess you could say that.

Pre-tequila shots and pre-hitting my head. With Julianne, who has gone with me to Urgent Care twice.

Where to Meet Guys: Fashion Nail

Every girl needs to get her nails done every once in a while.  Especially in the middle of the semester, when everything gets really crazy, it's good to take some "me" time every once in a while.

So last week Katrin, Alicia, and I decided to go down to Fashion Nails, our favorite nail salon on Rosecrans.  It is, of course, run by cute little Asian ladies.  And they only charge $19.99 for a Mani Pedi!

We went in at about 6:30, picked out our colors, and were each assigned to a cute little Asian lady.  As usual, I picked out the brightest, most obnoxious pink I could find.  When I get my nails done, I like people to notice.

I was the first to get my nails painted and was sent to the driers at the front of the salon while Katrin and Alicia got their nails painted in the back.  I stuck my hands in the hand drier and my toes in the toe drier and sat gazing out the window at Rosecrans Street.  It wasn't very exciting, but my nails were wet, so I didn't dare open People Magazine to find out what Carrie Underwood had to teach me about style. (Too bad, too, I would have really liked to find some jeans to fit my body and budget.)

I glanced at the magazine cover from time to time, but mostly just stared blankly into the darkness of the street.  A few people walked by, but not too many because by this time it was about 7:30.  However, as I stared out the window, a face suddenly appeared.  A rather attractive man of about 30 stood with his face inches away from the window, smiling at me.

I am generally a friendly person, so I smiled back.  He and his friend walked past the open door about ten feet away from me and he yelled in, "Hey!  What's up?"

"Hi..." I replied, a little hesitantly.  He and his friend then walked across the street to Jack in the Box.  I giggled to myself and glanced at Carrie Underwood again.

Ten minutes later I looked up to see the two guys walking back across the street.  Instead of just walking past the window again, the guy who had smiled and said hi earlier walked in the front door of Fashion Nails.

"Hey!  How's it going?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Pretty good..." I replied, smiling.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, you know... just got my nails done."

"Oh yeah?  How much did that cost?"

I have never met a guy who was so interested in nails.

"So, what's that thing your hands are in?"

"It dries them..."

"Oh, so it just blows on them?  I could do that for you."

We made small talk for another couple minutes before we said our goodbyes.

"We always see girls sitting there staring out the window," my new friend told me.  "It was really nice of you to smile back and say hi; usually they just stare back like 'huh?'."

Katrin and Alicia finished up in the back, and we all walked out to Alicia's car.

"Did you see my friend?" I asked.

"Yeah!" Alicia said.  "Did you know him?"

I told her the story, and she laughed and said something like that would happen to me.

"Yeah, I do have some random stories," I agreed.  "But I never thought I would get hit on at Fashion Nail."