Welcome to the jungle

The school cafeteria at a small private school is really just a x-large serving of crazy. Peak lunch hours the place is packed with everyone you've ever met, played tonsil hockey with over a keg, crushed on, secretly hated, openly hated, whatever. Much like the layout of the high school cliques in the Mean Girl's cafeteria, there is an unofficial, unorganized sense of order at the dining hall.

The soccer team sits at the tables closest to the check out line. Forming a barricade, taking up three tables, these boys are hungry and unapologetic. Mixed into them are the team's hoe train or groupies. Elite spots are reserved for the girls who score a "coveted" seat at one of the designated boys tables. The rest are forced to fight over the surrounding area tables, close enough to have some contact with the Adidas clad toolbags. The groupies are made up of: the girls who followed their high school boyfriends to college soon to find out he fucked half the freshman class before she got there, girls who triple barrel their hair just to go to class, the vodka sluts, and the prude "i only give handjobs" wanna-be-sluts. Considering the practically 70 to 30, female to male ratio, girls get very territorial, which really just gives the boys all the control to screw 5 girls per weekend and keep them all coming back for more. Maybe your faux "hippie" headbands are tied a little too tight girls, take them off and think!

Strategies come into play during peak lunch hours when there are people you don't want to say hi to and the ones you plan on "accidentaly" bumping into.

Things that make a successful cafeteria session:

-Seating: getting a seat facing the check-out lines, so when your friends are all gushing about how hot their Professor looks today, you don't have to do an obvious neck turn to look.

-Sunglasses: on entering the jungle shades are a good idea to let you stare at whoever you want without them knowing and averting eye contact from those sloppy drunken make out people you'd rather forget about.

-Discretion: Code names for people are important for not getting caught talking about people. Names like: HB (Huntington Beach Boy), Fergie Girl, Big Poppa, Curly-Bob, are all code-names that are not necessary used with malicious intent, rather a lack of knowing what a person's real name is. Also a good idea is to master the clock directing system, so when your best friend says, "Arch-enemy at 12 o'clock." You can throw your dirty look in the right direction.

-Truth or Dare: a packed cafeteria is really just one big distracted audience. You can get away with murder. A few more harmless dares are just to stand on top of a tall chair and act like your looking for someone for about 15 seconds. People begin to stare in confused disgust. Another is to go up to palm trees in the center of the hall, shake them vigorously while yelling "Where are all the apples, the apples are gone!" Really you can do whatever you want.

The cafeteria staff itself is on a whole other level of insane. There's the regulation laid back chef, who thinks he's so much better than his job and makes sure you know that. Josh walks around with his pluggs in his ears, complaining about his life, when in reality I just want him to make my grilled cheese extra cheesy. He's the guy who has slept with 10 percent of every incoming class since 1990 and will continue to do so until he dies. (I'm not kidding.) Please wash your hands before returning to work.

There the Caf-Nazis, who love calling Public Safety when they catch you stealing a bagel. Elise and I have been told numerous times that we are "at the top of her shit list." Being brats, we replied "t least we're on a list."

Of course there are the fabulous little old ladies like May who refills the cream cheese and mutters to herself in another language when I say hi. There is also Julia at the Mexican Bar who has one droopy eye and may just be the love of my life. There are the Asian ladies that always tell the girls how pretty they are, which has resulted in questioning of their sexuality.

My personal favorite is the black lady that works the vegan bar. She likes to do everything real slow and don't you rush her! Her gold framed sunglasses never leave her head and the thorny rose tattoo on her wrist is so clutch. When a source told me the tattoo was there to cover a bullet wound, I immediately went and got some vegetarian chili, although I was full, so I could see it for myself before telling all of you. It's true, it's so beautifully true.