Things I Mutter Aloud To Myself as I Drive Through the College Campus Near My House

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Things I Mutter Aloud To Myself as I Drive Through the College Campus Near My House

Roll On You Bears. I like to keep up one side of a conversation with the Collective You, whenever I drive through campus on my errands in Berkeley. I start teaching a writing class in Cal’s Extension program next week, so the likelihood that you’ll see a middle aged woman commandeering a Volvo station wagon and moving her lips as she drives past you is about to spike.

“Your mother wants you to wear a helmet when you ride your bike. She would cry if she knew you were riding without one.”
“You can’t pretend to me that you aren’t freezing in that skirt. Your legs are blue.”
“I think that’s called a longboard. Or is it a skateboard? How do you tell the difference?”
“Look at you, polite kid with clean shirt making eye contact with me in the crosswalk. You’re gonna go places. See me waving? I approve of you.”
“THAT fraternity? Girl, you are crazy to walk into that fraternity by yourself at dusk. Don’t you see the couch on the roof and the keg tipped over by the front steps?”
“Are you seriously college aged? Or is the preschool on this side of campus? I am a thousand years old.”
“SHOWER. It won’t kill you. We know, we know, you speak for the trees.”
“If you don’t want us all to realize you’re doing the walk of shame, at least put the sweatshirt on right side out. You are fooling no one.”
“Big Game Schmig Schmame.”
“Whoever convinced you to wear a bikini with no cover up to walk from campus all the way up to the Strawberry Canyon Pool just won a bet with his frat brothers.”
“What is the name of your mascot, again? You know, the bear with the little hat? Oh, that’s right. You can’t hear me. Thank god. Get outta the crosswalk.”