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.
"The complete eradication of the farm, totaled at 227 ants, was initially attributed to the 13 days the package spent on a poorly ventilated, sunless shelf in Wien, during which time Michaels reportedly attempted to muster up the testicular fortitude to interact with the package staffer."
"President Lee Bollinger cited the organization’s 'lack of transparency' and 'ethics concerns' as incongruous with the university’s vision."
“We water the soil with broken dreams, fertilize it with internship offers, and voila, out they come.”
1. Stimulate James McShane to near ecstasy at the mere mention of “theft alert.”
Learn a thing or two from the Fed's wisest.
"Usually we let the admissions process grind them up and spit them out, but we had to step in here."
"Columbia must have been his safety school. Anyone with a dick that nice applied to Harvard early.”
"To all the students emailing me to 'talk about the class,' just drop it. I’m not interested."
"Approach the first hot girl you see, taking the shortest path possible—use Dijkstra’s algorithm here if necessary."
"I'm submitting my piece into the veritable marketplace of ideas, where everyone will applaud me for my bravery and insight."