By Gary Bernard
Springtime in New York. The birds are chirping, the sun is shining, and I’m looking for love. I just got out of a nasty croc-on-croc relationship, and for a while I didn’t know if I could love again. But when I saw the way your neon orange, foot-shaped shoes hit the pavement as you walked the last 2k of the color run, I knew you were the only one for me.
I feel like I already know you. You obviously own a Fitbit, and you probably burn through those 10,000 steps by brunch. You’re not a vegan, but you always ask for rice milk in your macchiatos. And sure, you didn’t vote for Jill Stein, but you thought she had some great ideas.
Let me bury my secrets deep inside that expensive leather man-bag you keep strapped to your lanky midwestern frame. I want to replace those orange scented candles that Housing confiscated from your dorm last February, and blast the folk rock station on Spotify while I slide between your burlap sheets. I swear it’s not a fetish—just promise me you’ll keep the toe shoes on. Whisper in my ear about the extra traction they give you for Ultimate while you upload every single picture from your backpacking trip to Pinterest. I would do anything for you. I’ll even switch from Cliff to Luna if that’s what it takes.
Was that you I saw the other day selling Herbalife? Wow. I never knew I could love so much.
“We engage with ideas from all over the world; Italy, Germany, France, England, New England…How could anyone still think that way after such an education?”
“Because I have integrity, because I have principles, I won’t be selling out anytime soon,” said a triumphant Emerson. “I’ll be out there in the trenches, living in a dumpy apartment in Queens.”
“Jeffrey has shown that through determination, kindness, and avoiding all conversations about abortion and military action, General Studies students can fit right in here,” said a school representative.
“I want to be forthright. Yes, as Dining Director of John Jay, I made a deal with Big Bean, just like Ferris signed exclusivity agreements with Inedible Broccoli and Lukewarm Yogurt,” he said in a statement.
“Three weeks went by, and not a word from anyone. Just yesterday I received an email from President Bollinger telling me to ‘keep up the great work!’”, said Columbia Housing Executive Director Joyce Jackson.
Perhaps the union is being selfish. Why should their right to proper compensation and treatment as employees supercede my mild curiosity as to what would happen without TAs to proctor my exam?
In response to the news, Associate Director of Residential Life Scott Helfrich told the Federalist: “The safety of our undergraduate students is our top concern. But if students decide to act irresponsibly and binge-drink in their dorms, it isn’t our fault that they’re lightweights.”
Thorpe’s fingers finally gave out, breaking last week in the middle of ADP Open Mic Night. Doctors speculate that significant damage was also incurred during his favorite class, Literature and Intersectional Feminism.
In the beginning of March in her sophomore year, she has scheduled an existential meltdown about her direction in life."