Looking back over the course of my college career-one month, a week, and five days to date-I can finally say with authority that there is nothing quite like college life.

Working all summer at my lame mall job back in Boston, I fantasized about my future here at Pomona. I imagined that everyone would be happy to the point of orgasm, and would periodically burst into song and dance around Marston Quad. My sponsors were going to be upright pillars of the student community. The other students in my sponsor group would be frightening young prodigies who did calculus for fun. My roommate would be a quiet academic who listened to Mozart on her headphones. Classes would be a joy to sit through after a well-rested night. The professors would be well-spoken and always interesting. They would never, ever consider assigning an entire book to be read over the weekend. The dining hall would be staffed by gourmet cooks who would prepare culinary delights from only the freshest of ingredients. The dorms would be veritable palaces; the rooms would be spacious and clean, and the hallways would be well maintained by my fellow students. The ambiance would, of course, be conducive to studying. Students would all be soft-spoken and well-mannered, and play their music at barely audible levels.

Instead, my sponsors are alcoholics and drug addicts who engage in strange sexual practices involving unicycles and the music of John Tesh. The people in my sponsor group smoke enough pot to get a small elephant stoned. Most of the time we talk about sex. Actually, we talk about sex all the time. At parties we take shots of Albertson’s brand tequila followed by chasers stolen from the dining hall. We go to dances under the influence and grind to hip-hop.

I’ve fallen asleep in class almost every day. I don’t know if the professors notice or not, but I’m sure my snoring is clearly audible from the back of the room. There is always at least one person in the class who hasn’t done the reading. I know this because that person is usually me. While I haven’t skipped a class yet, I doubt if my professors are fond of my habit of sneaking oh-so-quietly into class late every day. And yes, it is possible to start a paper after lunch and finish it by five. Whether or not it’s a good paper is subject to question.

In the dining halls, yesterday’s chicken cutlets are now today’s chicken sandwiches. I’m pretty sure that the broccoli and tofu stir-fry last night is tonight’s vegetable and tofu stir-fry. And of course, we all know that fro-yo is part of a healthy balanced breakfast. Cooking macaroni and cheese late at night, whilst slightly tipsy, is dangerous activity and should probably avoided. Fortunately, both Thai and pizza deliver until two. Those jeans I bought just before college don’t fit so well anymore.

I live in a dorm built by a guy who designs jails for a living. In addition to the cheerful décor of cinderblock walls, we have occasional access to the Internet. Sometimes we even have hot water in the bathrooms! People play baseball in the halls and skateboard on the carpet. And while you may want to go to sleep at 3:30 on a Wednesday night, someone else will think it’s the perfect time to blast "Who Let the Dogs Out?" from their speakers. There’s always a party somewhere on the weekends. Whether you can find it is a completely different story.

I’ve heard there’s a keg somewhere on campus six nights a week, but unfortunately, I haven’t figured out how to fake my student ID yet. Instead, I’ve discovered that "margarita" is Spanish for "Have you hugged your toilet today?", and that pretty much anything mixes well with vodka.

Those bottle opener key chains really aren’t that necessary; most bottles are twist off by now. But always carry a lighter to parties, because everyone smokes something at college. This will eventually include you.

The HEO gives out free condoms ear plugs, and dental dams. The condoms break, but there’s a condom machine in the laundry room. And those twin extra longs just aren’t big enough for two.

I’ve been here over a month by now and I still haven’t gotten used to the palm trees all over campus. I think its hilarious that Californians get chilly when the temperature falls under 75 degrees, and they say weird words like "hella" and "grubbin’". I still feel like everyone here is much more talented than me, and in weird and exciting ways. And even though our mascot is a small desert fowl, even though we eat in a church and even though getting laid is barely a yearly event, this is still the happiest place on earth, and I wouldn’t be at college anywhere else.

(A brief disclaimer: As I am currently drugged out of my mind on cough medicine, anything I have said so far should probably be ignored.)