The California Aggie
The University of California-Davis

The College Press Exchange

There are only two kinds of people who are happy about going back to class. Half of them spent the summer watching “Dukes of Hazzard” reruns in their underwear and the other half are first-year students.
While humming and skipping down the steps of the chemistry building is a pretty sure sign that you’re new to this whole college scene, sheer joy at being on campus is by no means the only dead giveaway. Don’t worry if you see a little bit of yourself in this list, all of us have been there:
You call yourself basically a vegetarian, even though you still eat chicken and fish.
You own several baby tees with insightful icons or single-word statements displayed on them and little plastic barrettes are a staple accessory for you.
You are currently making an attempt to grow facial hair in an utterly misguided quest to appear more mature and attractive to the opposite sex.
You save alcoholic beverage containers the way a hunter would mount the head of a particularly exotic kill.
You wake up more than an hour before class because you need the grooming time.
You plan on getting something pierced this week.
You’ve joined so many clubs you won’t have time for homework because your resident assistant told you clubs are a great way to meet people.
You recently wrote a poem about lifetime transitions that included the word “loneliness.”
You wake up in a lecture room with your cheek in a puddle of drool because your hall was partying on Sunday night.
You found a new soul mate … yesterday.
All of your underwear is pink.
You avoid eating at the student union because the lines confuse you.
You think mochas count as coffee.
You’re flunking chemistry and you don’t even know it yet.
You think RSVP is kinda cool.
Your roommate and her boyfriend have discovered sex and frequently engage in it while you’re asleep.
You’d be willing to part with some serious cash and possibly an expendable body part for a fake ID.
You’ve put some deep reflection into every poster on your wall and asked yourself, “What does this say about me?”
Your answering machine message is about five minutes long. It includes at least one sentence spoken in unison with your roommate, a 30-second musical interlude and a reference just obscure enough so that you, your roommates and your intimate friends will think it’s hilarious and the rest of the world will think you’re a psychopath.
You still have this message on the machine when a potential employer calls about what could have been your first college job.
You type up your notes after class and no one’s paying you to do it.
You honestly believe the guy you’re chatting with online when he says he looks like “that guy who plays Superman on the new show.”
You spend more time writing e-mail than you spend sleeping.
You have pretended to be drunk.
You rarely cut class for the first few weeks because you’re afraid somehow your parents will find out.
You find yourself doing errands in groups of five or more, on a weekly basis.
You’re concerned when you go to your professor during her office hours and she doesn’t recognize you.
You are enrolled in one or more of the following classes: cultural anthropology, comparative literature, psychology, entomology or human sexuality.
You firmly believe you will graduate in four years.
You’re not too worried about how you’ll be paying off the $5,000 in loans you just accepted even though you’re a medieval studies major.
You think roommates should be best buddies, too.
You don’t see any problems with letting people you just met borrow your compact discs and clothing.
You’re on an intramural team with an oh-so-clever name like, “Kick Your Butt.”
You eat cereal at least three times a day because it’s the only dining option you recognize.
You think that getting a job to earn a little extra cash would be pretty fun.
You sleep in a bunk bed.
You sit in the very front or the very back of a lecture hall.
You actually check your mail box everyday and expect to find more than junk mail.
You’re still figuring out this whole checking account thing.
You’re applying for credit cards based on the quality of the giveaway item.
On Saturday night you “freaked” with someone on the dance floor at a party. You were sober.
You’re still premed.