Ariana Brookes Brookes is a third-year
English student who knows that Diet Coke is the drink of champions.
E-mail her at abrookes@ucla.edu.
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UCLA is like a science experiment in which you discover that oil
and water just don’t mix. On one hand, UCLA is located in
L.A., a city of excess and wealth. On the other, UCLA is definitely
known for its laid-back attitude toward life.
That said, life at UCLA can be a little confusing for those not
used to the jeans and T-shirt lifestyle. While one would expect
UCLA to live up to its ritzy surroundings, in truth, UCLA is about
as ritzy as the local 7-Eleven. The following is a fictional
account of what can happen when you come to UCLA refusing to take
that much needed “chill pill.”
8 a.m.: It’s 8 in the morning and she’s already up.
Her $10 Kmart alarm clock is blaring away and the birds
haven’t even started singing yet! I’d give my diamond
tennis bracelet to hear the sweet voice of Marie right now. (Marie
is my maid ““ my lovely, beautiful, no-need-for-an-alarm-clock
Marie.)
If that girl (and by “that girl” I mean my new
roommate) doesn’t shut that alarm off soon, I’ll see
her in court. (My daddy is a litigator who gets $500 an hour just
to argue with people … kind of like Cher’s dad in
“Clueless.”)
10:30 a.m.: I don’t think I’m down with this
“group bathroom down the hall” deal. I told daddy that
I wanted one of those suites, but no, I get stuck in a double in
Sproul Hall. I have to wear flip-flops in the shower and blow-dry
my hair in front of other girls. What is that about? On top of
everything, I have to walk down the hall in my robe for the whole
world to see. No one sees me looking anything less than my best,
and I swear on everything holy that if a hot guy sees me looking
like this, I will sue the school!
11:30 a.m.: Oh no, oh no, oh no! I think I’m sweating!
It’s so hot, so very hot, and I’m wearing my brand new
Prada silk sleeveless blouse! I think I might die. How can I
possibly be expected to walk all the way to campus everyday? By the
time I make it to Dodd Hall, my hair will be flat, my makeup will
be dripping off my face, and God forbid I should smell like sweat!
Maybe if my dad donated some more money to the school, they’d
consider putting in some sort of electronic walkway like the ones
they have at the airport?
And look at these other girls walking down the street, in
public, wearing shorts and T-shirts. My God, have they no
shame!
1 p.m.: I cannot believe the men in this school. I’m
sitting in lecture waiting for class to begin and this guy asks me
out. OK, he was kind of cute, in that “I shop at Gap kind of
way,” but come on! He actually asked me if I’d like to
go see a movie with him some time. A movie? Maybe I’d go to
dinner at Spago, if he was lucky, but a $6 movie? Is he crazy? Does
he actually think that I’d grace him with my presence for $6?
Doesn’t anyone at this school have any grooming?
I was offered no personal attention during that 500-person
history lecture, and I always get personal attention. And God only
knows what my TA was wearing. I’m sorry, but tight denim
shorts are just not allowed on men, ever.
 Illustration by RODERICK ROXAS/Daily Bruin 4 p.m.: I
actually met a girl this afternoon who lives in the same universe
as I do. She was standing in line in Ackerman Union waiting to buy
some sushi from the Japanese place, when I spotted her cute Chloe
top and knew we could be friends. It turns out she’s from
North County San Diego like me! What a relief to know that this
school isn’t just full of a bunch of people who have never
been to a fashion show in Paris. She told me that it’s
supposed to be pretty wild tonight over at the frats, and that
there are even some fraternities where having money is common!
Fabulous. I love soirees. So, she’ll meet me in front of
Sproul Hall at 9 p.m.
6:30 p.m.: Ahhhh! This is what they call food? They tell me that
UCLA dorm food is rated as one of the top in the nation, but come
on! If this is considered good, what must they be eating at other
schools? It looks like it will be salad every night for me. I did
hear that they have sushi for lunch every Monday, but what am I
supposed to do for the rest of the week?
It was bad enough that I had to eat lunch in a cafeteria in high
school, but now they expect me to eat in one three times a day. I
better call daddy and have him send up a care package or some
money. Maybe I’ll just eat out every night. I can always take
a cab down to the village and eat at Eurochow.
10:30 p.m.: I’m at the frats and there’s nothing to
drink but beer. Beer! Has it really come to this? It’s not
even good beer, and I have to fight just to get it. What happened
to cocktails, good old-fashioned alcohol or maybe a nice, aged
white wine? And I’ve had to hold onto my purse all night so
it won’t get stolen.
There isn’t even any food. If this were my party, there
would be waiters walking around with mini crab cakes. Instead,
I’m forced to tumble down to In-N-Out if I get hungry. Why,
God, why?!?
12:30 a.m.: As if I hadn’t dealt with enough already, I
broke my Manolo Blahnick shoes walking back to the dorms. I
can’t believe it, a $400 pair of shoes down the toilet.
It’s terrible how those sidewalks near the dorms are so full
of cracks. That’s why I fell ““ it was one of those
horrible sidewalk cracks. It had absolutely nothing to do with the
fact that I was a bit tipsy ““ nothing at all.
I also spilled my Diet Coke all over the floor at In-N-Out,
right in front of a certain celebrity whom I will not name.
I’m so tired right now that I can barely think, let alone
write, but I know that if I don’t write this down in my
journal I will regret it later.
I’ll need this to use as evidence when I explain to dad
why I need to go to Europe during winter break. There’s only
so much a girl can handle!
And now off to bed. I have class at noon (how are they allowed
to hold classes that early in the morning?), and I’m sure my
charming roommate’s alarm clock will be going off in a matter
of hours. Ta-ta.