-Why are the last few days before you leave for college when you run around trying to see everyone you didn’t bother to hang out with the whole summer?

-Why do I come back after a year away at school and my family has changed the seating arrangements at the dinner table? And how come my room has become the storage area for old clothes and my sister’s shoes?

-Before I left school, I sold my books back. I think it’s pretty obvious that the campus bookstore is the biggest rip-off on the planet. How can they give me $10 for a $60 textbook? I swear I never even opened it. It’s brand new! And wait a minute, wasn’t there inflation in the last year? This book is actually worth more now! You should be paying me you blood-sucking bastards!

-Ever notice that in high school, the school year sucked and the summer ruled, but now the summer sucks and school is awesome?

-The best scene is when you come home wrecked and go in to talk to your half-sleeping parents. You try your best, but you always come away thinking you either talked really loudly to them, slurred your words, acted suspiciously, or smelled.

-Being at home made me realize why college is so great: college is a consequence-free environment. You don’t have to drive anywhere and your parents aren’t around. There’s absolutely no reason not to party!

-I hate those kids who finish all their exams early in finals week and call you up every night while you’re still studying to tell you how drunk they are.

-Isn’t it weird being home and sleeping late? At school, you never notice anything, but at home you’re just waking up and your parents are coming home from work already. It makes you kind of think you’re missing something.

-When deciding what clothes to pack for school, don’t you consider every conceivable situation? I’m like, what if it’s hailing on a party cloudy day and I’m playing tackle football in the mud… I better take this old sweatshirt just in case!

-And since you take basically all your wearable clothes, you end up wearing whatever is left the day before you leave. I had on a pair of short shorts from 1986 and those high socks with the colored stripes on top!

-Over the summer, I realized that my mom has superhuman abilities. She is able to sense when a really important moment in a sporting event is about to happen and walk in front of the TV just in time to block it from view.

-I also realized that my parents are from a different planet. I told them that Puff Daddy and Jimmy Page were working together on a song and they were like, “Who’s Jimmy Page?”

-I didn’t even know 6am existed until I started interning this summer.

-Do you have that friend who is always looking for stuff to put in his college dorm room? They’re like obsessed scavengers. Every time they see a sign they’re like, “That would look awesome in my room! Watch my back while I climb this pole.”

-This time I get to be the dumbass with the Quote of the Month. I was on vacation this summer in London and was talking to some English kids about drinking games. I asked, “So, do you guys play quarters?” And one guy was like, “Bloke, we don’t even have quarters.” Fuck me.

HOME

-Taking exams at school is easy. Figuring out the curve is the hard part. I have no idea how the curve works. How do I get a 25 and get an A? How do I get a 95 and get a C? Do you ever get the feeling that the curve is just one big conspiracy against you? Like before you got to class the teacher and everybody else figured out the exact mean and standard deviation that would screw you the most? Those bastards.

-The worst part about the curve is that my parents don’t understand it either. Like the following conversation between my dad and me. Dad: So, how was your test? Me: Pretty hard, but everyone else thought it was hard too so the curve might not be that bad. Dad: Don’t worry about anyone else but yourself. Me: I know, but if everyone does badly, then I can still do well. Dad: Why don’t you just try harder, are you on drugs? Me: No Dad, its the curve. Last test I got an A even though my test grade was a 46, because of the curve. Dad: You got a 46? We’re not sending you any more money.

-Of course the only way to beat the curve is to not take the test. How? Make an excuse! I’ve heard some whoppers in my day, but here’s one my unnamed friend at UCLA used. He did no work for his Accounting class and got a D. So he told the department head that he had swollen testicles the whole semester, was in a lot of pain, and was too embarrassed to tell the professor. He got the grade dropped! I love college.

-Everyone is always saying, “I go to bed so late. I don’t sleep enough. I have to catch up on my sleep.” I get too much sleep. I’m sleeping all the time. I have to set my alarm just to wake up at 4pm. Catch up on sleep? I think I have to catch up on my “awake” because I have no clue what the hell goes on during the day.

-Isn’t this one of the greatest moments in college? You’re wasted, absolutely trashed. You go back to your room and you’re kind of fucking around when the phone rings. It’s your best friend from home. And he’s wasted too!! You both scream for 25 minutes about how wasted you both are and how you’re going to visit each other at college and get wasted and how you’re gonna get so wasted over the summer. Then you both pass out and don’t remember you even spoke to each other. I love college.

-The one thing I’m psyched about leaving school for the summer is not smelling like smoke all the time. Doesn’t it seem like every single person in college smokes cigarettes? I personally don’t, but, inevitably, I’ll come home from a party (or anyplace else), and as soon as I pull my shirt over my head, there’s that nasty smoke smell. Even my shoes smell like smoke. I might as well fucking smoke.

-The dry cleaners on campus here suck. They’re the worst. I wear a pair of khakis, I get some dirt on them, so I take them to the dry cleaners. You know what the guy says to me? “I don’t know if we can get this out.” What the fuck do you mean you can’t get this out? It’s fucking dirt! What purpose do you serve? I bring in dirty pants and you give me back pants that are still dirty, folded nicely on a hangar with a plastic bag? What kind of bullshit is that? You’re the fucking dry cleaners!! Get that shit wet if you have to.

-This past weekend was Spring Fling here at Penn – a three-day party where everyone gets absolutely wasted. It was fucking ridiculous. This is about all I remember: kegs in every dorm room, a forty-foot funnel in the stairwell, crowd surfing. I love college.

-How about those kids in lecture who write down everything. Teacher puts something on the board, he writes it down. Teacher sneezes, kid makes a note of it. The kid is writing shit when the teacher isn’t even fucking talking! And you’re sitting there thinking, “Should I be writing this down?”

-Well, freshman year is almost over and it was the best year of my life. You can sure learn a hell of a lot in one year! School is pretty confusing, but I’ve come up with “Karo’s Theory on College Life,” so here goes. There are four basic things to do in college: 1) hang out with your friends, 2) hook up, 3) get wasted, 4) do work. Problem is, you can only accomplish three out of the four things at any one time. You can get drunk with your boys all the time and then go hook up, but you probably won’t do any work. You can get some work done, chill with your girlfriend, and get wasted, but you’ll never see your boys. So that’s what college life is all about – constantly striving to balance all four. The only problem is that by the time you finally figure it out, you’ve graduated. Fuck me.

HOME

-Well, I just got back from Spring Break in Cancun and what a fucking amazing trip it was. It’s like a whole country built for the sole purpose of getting fucked up, and boy did we ever. Here are some of the crazy stories that happened to my friends and I in sunny Mexico.

-Not only is it easy to get in trouble with the law in Mexico, but people there will go out of their way to take a bribe. In the hotel we were staying, people who weren’t guests were not allowed in after 5pm. So a friend of mine tries to sneak this girl in but keeps getting caught by the security guards. Finally, he goes all the way around the hotel and tries to get in the back. Only this time, he gets caught by the manager, who has him handcuffed and arrested. The funny part is not that my friend bribed the guy to let him go, but that he actually charged his bribe on a credit card! Only in Mexico.

-But wait, there’s more. Another friend of mine gets caught by the police for getting it on with some chick on the beach. The cop takes him to the police car where two other couples have also been arrested. So the cops let the girls go and take the three guys in the car and start driving them to the police station. My friend and one of the guys both whip out a hundred dollars and bribe the cops, but the third guy doesn’t have any money. Listen to this – so the cop drives them to an ATM so the kid can take out money to bribe them and, when his card doesn’t work, drives them to two more ATMs before he finally takes out enough money for the bribe. Absolutely ridiculous!

-At one of the clubs in Cancun they have a foam party where they pour all these bubbles on the dance floor. It’s pretty cool, but the bubbles get really high and they’re pretty disgusting. I accidentally inhaled some of the bubbles then threw up right on the dance floor, but no one saw because everyone is covered in bubbles. A couple of kids said they just pissed right on the dance floor. After I heard that I got the hell out of there.

-A lot of other shit happened, most of which is too raunchy even for me to write. But the one thing I learned about Cancun is that people there love to try to cheat tourists out of money. A bus ride costs three pesos. I give the guy ten, he gives me five back, and then looks at me like I’m the fucking idiot. Only on Spring Break.

-And now for some ruminations on second semester. Does your mom still ask you about the kid you met the first day of school? You know, you meet this kinda dorky kid the first day and for some reason he’s already been there a week and knows everything, so he helps you move in and set up your computer? Every single time I speak to my mom now she asks me about him. Mom, I haven’t even seen that kid since!

-Is it a general rule that after you become a junior in college you always tuck your shirt into your pants? Just look around: freshman and sophomores are untucked, juniors, seniors, and everybody else are tucked in. And it gets worse, too. Your dad’s pants are above his belly button and your grandpa’s pants are up to his nipples. Eventually you don’t even have to wear a shirt anymore!

-My name is Aaron Karo. My email address is aaronkar@wharton.upenn.edu. They couldn’t give me the last fucking letter of my name? Now I have the dumbest address ever. Who the fuck decides this shit? I want my “o”!!

-Do you know kids who live in the football player parallel universe? It’s those kids who were big-time players in high school but are too small or not good enough to play in college. But they still wear their high school jersey and letter jacket and hat because in their mind they’re still playing football. It’s actually pretty sad.

-And now for the Quote of the Month. My buddy Adam from Penn, when asked by the girl he was seeing why he hooked up with another girl at a party, responded, “I thought it was you!” Hey, you have to give him credit for the effort.

-If you’ve been following the news (and if you go to college, you probably haven’t), you’ll notice that everything going wrong in the world today is being blamed on El Nino. Tornado in Florida? El Nino. Stock market crashed? El Nino. So I figured it would work for me and told my mom El Nino was the reason my GPA was so low. Didn’t go over too well. Fuck me.

HOME

-Well, we’re finally back to school.  Thank God!  Home got boring after about thirty seconds.  Here was my schedule: sleep all day, wake up, shower, eat, take a nap, eat again, watch Breast Men on HBO, get fucked up with my high school boys, come home, repeat for three weeks.

-And at home I ate so much earlier.  At school we eat dinner at like 7, 8, or 9 o’clock.  At home I was like sitting down to eat at 5:30.  I was like, what the fuck is going on here?  I felt like I retired and moved to Florida.  Two more weeks of that and I swear to God I would have been wearing blue polyester pants and playing shuffleboard!

-And what about using the phone at home!  At school I have my own line but at home I don’t.  I’m picking up the phone at home like, “Yeah, what the fuck do you want?  Oh… Grandma… um, I wasn’t talking to you, I swear!”  Plus at home all you have to do is dial, I’m sitting there dialing nine, entering my personal access code, I’m like why the fuck isn’t this working?

-Being at school so much really does fuck you up.  Did you ever notice that the temperature inside your dorm is always the same, year-round?  I wear short sleeves every day.  I go home and it’s like since when did it get so fucking cold in the winter?  And what’s with this drinking water straight from the tap?  At school I have to send that shit through two Brita filters just to avoid getting tuberculosis!

-Before I left for winter break, my RA kept reminding me, clean out your fridge, clean out your fridge!   I’m like, why the fuck would I clean it out now when I’m going home for two weeks?  I’ve been here for four months and haven’t cleaned it out once!

-So this chick is driving me home to Long Island from school and we stop at a toll booth on the Jersey Turnpike.  My friend is playing around and flirting with the toll collector, who happened to be fairly young.  We find out later that he wrote his phone number on the back of her toll receipt!  What the fuck was this guy thinking?  What is my friend supposed to call him up and go, “Hi, this is the girl from the Honda, meet me at Exit 10”?

-And now here is a Quote of the Month.  Recently, my friend Harlan C. from Penn, while discussing the Year 2000 problem in which computers won’t be able to recognize the date change, actually said, “I don’t understand the problem, what did they do in the year 1900?”  Fucking idiot.

-I have one of those tote baskets which I use to carry my soap and shampoo into the shower.  It’s pretty disgusting already, it’s got all kinds of hair and soap scum on it.  What I don’t understand is how the thing got so fucking dirty in the first place.  It takes a shower every day!  Of all my personal belongings, this basket bathes most often, yet it’s the most gross!

-Speaking of showers, doesn’t it suck when you get in the shower and you realize that you only have a molecule of soap left?  First of all, I think to myself, “What the fuck was I thinking yesterday when I realized that there was no soap left?  Why the hell didn’t I get some more!?”  So of course, being the lazy fuck I am, instead of getting out of the shower, I try to splice my molecule of soap into enough to wash my body.  I think that’s how the first atom was spliced.  Some scientist was in the shower and he ran out of soap.  Of course that doesn’t work for me so I end up washing my body with Pert Plus.  Doesn’t quite do the same job, but who the fuck cares?

-I hate people who go to the University of Michigan.  All they talk about is sports.  I’m talking to my friend Claudio at UM, and I’m like, “How’s the weather up there?”  And he says, “You know we won the Rose Bowl?”

-And another thing, the name of this column is “Ruminations!”  Not “ramifications,” which is what some chick from Rutgers called it, and not “relicitations,” like some dude in Wiconsin called it (that’s not even a real word!).  So for all of you who have been asking me, “ruminations” means reflections or meditations.  There, now get it right!

-And now, another Quote of the Month, this one a bit more insightful, from Mike W. at Penn: “Women with boyfriends are basically men.”  Couldn’t have said it better myself!

-Well, Rush here at Penn just ended, and what a wild couple of weeks it was!  I’ve never eaten so much free food, gotten so fucked up, stolen so many bowling pins, seen so many strippers, or done so little work in my entire life.  It was great!

-It seemed like the most popular Rush event was the nine-hole golf course.  Now don’t get me wrong, there was absolutely no golf involved whatsoever.  Basically each hole is a different off-campus apartment with a different drink.  But at one house the third hole was a forty-foot funnel, so most people didn’t even reach the clubhouse, if you know what I mean…

-In the end, Rush was a great experience.  I got to meet a lot of cool people and get really fucked up for free.   Probably the best parts were going to the lame frats early and eating all the food before the people who were actually interested showed up.  In the end, I decided to choose ZBT, and man am I psyched!  Now all I have to do is survive pledging.  Fuck me!

HOME

-Well, first semester is drawing to a close, and what wild ride it has been. I have never consumed so many toxic substances, expelled as many body fluids, or did as much work as I have in the last few months. I guess college is kind of like an economics problem: you want to maximize toxic substances consumed, minimize body fluids expelled, and do a decent amount of work. Of course, that’s all theory. In reality, I end up doing twelve kegstands, puking my brains out, and sleeping through my econ quiz.

-Speaking of puking, you ever notice that when you have to throw up, nothing will stop you from getting to the bathroom? I’m drinking in my room the other night and I get that feeling in my throat, so I knock my chair down, bust open my door, sprint down the hallway, knock some chick down the stairs, barge into the bathroom, break down the stall door, and then what do I do? Throw up on the toilet paper dispenser, completely missing the toilet.

-So we all have finals coming up. What’s with these exams at night? My foreign language final is at like 6:30pm – it’s like a fucking meal. If someone asks me what I’m having for dinner that night, I’ll be like, “Italian.”

-I’m obsessed with this gorgeous junior girl who of course won’t give me the time of day. But I really don’t understand why. I don’t think she understands that she being a gorgeous junior girl and me being a lowly freshman guy, that the first eleven times we hooked up, she wouldn’t even have to move. I swear I would do all the work, she could just lie on her back the whole time. Why wouldn’t she want that? I don’t understand!

-During Thanksgiving break I played in an alumni soccer game. My graduating class played the current varsity squad. My team was sad. I have never seen such a group of finely honed athletes degenerate into a bunch of fat, slow, beer-bellied slobs in such short time, but I guess college will do that to you. Hell, we were winning in the first half until we ran out of steam and got crushed. Fuck high school kids.

-Our first semester of college is about over and some things are exactly the same as they were the first day: I still don’t know anybody’s name (I’m always like, “What’s up bro? “How’s it going, man?”), I still don’t know how to do laundry (did you know you have to wash your sheets?), and my room still reeks (I thought that milk lasts like a month or so!). Things that have changed since the first day? Drinking capacity: increased. Sleep time: decreased. Taste for beer: increased. Taste for shitty, cheap beer: increased exponentially. Personal hygiene: decreased. Need to get fucked up continuously: increased. Long range projectile vomit ability: increased exponentially. Accuracy: decreased. Fuck me.

HOME

-Dry-erase boards. Now there’s a great invention. My pen was stolen the first night so now it’s fucking useless. And stupid me I put it over the peephole by accident and now I can’t get the fucking double-sided tape off so I’m stuck with an obsolete piece of glorified cardboard on my door. Who the hell stole my pen anyway? Is there some underground black market for pens whose mark can be erased so easily? And if there is, who the hell is stupid enough to buy them? It’s just one of those college mysteries.

-So I’m walking back from a frat party at like four in the morning, alone and drunk off my ass, and this homeless guy comes up to me and mumbles something. I didn’t have any change, but I was drunk so I gave him a dollar bill. You know what the dude said to me? “I don’t think you understood me, man, I asked for a cigarette.” So I say, “How can you be so picky? Don’t you know that beggars can’t be choosers?”

-Let’s go back to the bathroom situation. The most difficult part of taking a shower in a communal bathroom is the take-your-towel-off-before-you-get-in-the shower-but-don’t-let-anyone-see-you-naked maneuver. It’s really difficult! If you aren’t quick enough, your towel will get soaked in the shower, but if you’re slow, the dude using the sink right next to you will see all you have to offer. Plus, you have to get the towel to hang correctly on the hook while making sure not to let it touch the pool of urine right below. It’s a fucking obstacle course!

-Let’s continue on the shower situation. I don’t know about your shower, but whoever designed my bathroom’s shower curtain made it as aerodynamic as possible so that the slightest gust of air blows it completely off. If someone slams the door hard enough while you’re taking a shower, the curtain blows right out the fucking window! And it always happens when you’re washing your face so that your eyes are closed and don’t notice the curtain is gone for like two minutes.

-You guys have that cup. I know you do. You know, that one all-purpose cup that you use for everything from cereal to orange juice to shots of Johnnie Walker Black Label and never ever clean. At the end of the week that shit is sticky as hell. And there’s always that poor spoon that gets stuck in the cup forever.

-Is your hallway like the Loud Music Awards? It seems that everybody is trying to blast their music as loud as possible. This one fucker went away for the weekend and left his stereo on full blast with that Jamiroquai song on repeat. He’s dead now.

-This has nothing to do with college, but, hell, this my thing and I’ll talk about whatever I want! Isn’t one of the greatest feelings in the world when you discover pockets? You know, when you get a new pair of sweat pants or a fleece and you don’t think it has pockets because they’re kind of hidden, and then like two weeks later you just put your hands in there and find them? Such a great moment! What can I tell you? I’m a simple man.

-Do you have any classes in one of those large, semi-circular lecture halls with swivel chairs all around? The swivel chairs are pretty cool, but sometimes I feel like I’m flying in the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars. Come to think of it, the kid next to me does kind of look like Chewbacca…

-For some reason my friends find it funny to email me all these porn videos. For instance, just today I got one of a girl blowing a horse. Now that was just what I needed before lunch! I get so many fucking pornos that I think my computer has a virus. No, not like a computer virus – an actual sexually transmitted disease. Right now I’m wearing a full body condom just to write this. Fuck me.

HOME

-How’s the electricity situation in your dorm room? My room breaks every fire hazard law in the state of Pennsylvania. I have like a surge protector plugged into a surge protector connected by three extension cords. And behind my desk, oh man, that’s where stray wires go to die. If I ever spill a glass of water back there the whole damn place will blow up.

-Penn is fucking awesome – we just got a steam room in my hallway. Yeah, remember in the last issue when I said that our bathroom water has only two temperatures, off and thermonuclear hot? Well, now the shower is broken. It’s been running continuously for seven fucking days! The shit’s so hot it turned the place into a fucking steam room. We all go in there and sit around in towels talking about the stock market. It’s great.

-Let me just be honest. I have no idea what an imperfect monopoly is, I can’t conjugate a Spanish verb, and I can barely spell calculus, let alone derive anything. But I can buy a keg, tap a keg, fix a keg, pump a keg, and do a kegstand, all with my eyes closed. College, ya gotta love it!

-I have discovered the best spectator sport: watching kids fall asleep in class. Everyone’s done it, it’s fucking hilarious! You know, first their eyes start to close, then their head falls down, then back up again, then down again, then up again. I love it, pretty soon everyone in the class is fixated on this poor fucker who can’t keep his eyes open. Of course, it’s always funny until it’s you. Then it’s like, why didn’t you assholes wake me up!?

-So it was Parent’s Day the other day, you know when all your relatives come up to nag you for a weekend. They might as well call the day before Hide-the-Beer Day, because all you do is empty the fridge, clean out all the bottles, and take down all the pictures of you drunk off your ass from the wall.

-Speaking of parents, I almost got my ass kicked when they visited. If you read the first issue of Ruminations, you know that I have no idea at all how to do laundry. I asked my dad if I could get the laundry service and he said something like, “Be a man and wash your own underwear!” That alone confused the fuck out of me. Anyway, I went behind their back and ordered the laundry service. Little did I know that when my mom came to visit I would have to take a quiz on the laundry room: “How much bleach do you use? Do you need more quarters? Do you have enough static guard?” I had no idea, I just bullshitted with her for like an hour. It’s those situations that make me wish I was Homer Simpson. Whenever he faces a crisis, he could just scream and jump out the window. Is this where my Ivy League education has gotten me – wishing I was a cartoon character? That’s pretty sad.

-I’m sure by now most of you have gone back home for at least a weekend. That’s an experience. You go home with that attitude like, my parents better not try to control me! I’ll do whatever the fuck I want! Three hours later I was taking out the garbage and washing the dishes. I guess when I said my parents couldn’t control me, I didn’t realize that what they did control was the car, the house, the money…

-How comfortable was your bed at home? I don’t remember it being this comfortable! It felt like I was sleeping in a cloud with the Care Bears and Snuggles. And I don’t even have one of those egg crate things underneath my mattress!

-When I was home, I also visited my old high school. Now there’s a depressing experience. All the teachers look the same and they’re all doing exactly the same shit. And the new senior class sucks dick. It’s like we graduated but the rest of the school got left back. Well, at least the freshman girls looked pretty nice. Oh man, did I just say that? Fuck me!

HOME

-How hot were the first few days of school? I had like fifteen fans going at once in my room and one mini one that I kept directly in my face all day. That’s basically who my good friends are now – the ones who had the best fans, because you were always in their rooms. This one kid had an industrial-sized fan and a grilled cheese maker – he’s my best friend now.

-My school has an obsession with naked men. If you get shut out in beer pong, you have to run naked to the 7-Eleven and back. The night before the first economics exam, if you think you’re going to fail, you streak across the Quad. And on the day of the first snowfall, people run naked too. So all the guys are always grumbling about these stupid traditions. Now, if the girls were running naked, though, it would be a different story. We’d all be sitting around making up shit like the girls have to run naked to my room and back every odd Wednesday. I would serve refreshments. It would be great.

-So I have all this money on a debit card. It’s great, because it’s not real money – you just swipe and poof! – free food! Of course, when my mom gets the bill and asks me how I spent $12,000 on hoagies and Mountain Dew, I’ll just be like, “It was for books!”

-It finally happened. I drank too much and threw up. In my room. I remember nothing. I just woke up in the morning and there was vomit on the rug, mostly concentrated in my left shoe, and Rice Krispies all over the place. “The left shoe?” you ask. Well, my only guess was that the garbage can was too far away. The Rice Krispies on the other hand, I have absolutely no idea where they came from.

-You have to love the communal bathrooms in dorms. When you have to take a shit you go through that little ritual. You know what I’m talking about – first wipe down the seat, then put a strip of toilet paper on each side and, depending on the size of the shit, maybe one on the back of the seat, too. Like that little piece of single-ply generic brand toilet paper is going to stop you from getting hemorrhoids!

-Speaking of bathrooms, all my friends who share a bathroom with just one roommate always brag about how great it is. Personally, I would rather share a toilet with ten other guys than just one. It’s all about the uncertainty principle. When there is something disgusting on the toilet seat in a communal bathroom, you’re never sure who did it. But if you only share the toilet with one other person, you know exactly who the dirty little fucker is – your roommate!

-Continuing on this bathroom theme, my bathroom water has only two temperatures – off and thermonuclear hot. Just about the shower’s only use is for boiling water to make coffee. Even the toilet water is hot – when you flush so much steam comes out it’s like fucking Old Faithful!

-With the increasingly cold weather and the increasingly packed frat parties, comes the paradox of clothing. If you dress warmly for the walk to the party, you’ll sweat to death inside the frat. But if you dress lighter, you’ll freeze to death before you even make it. So really the question is, before you die, would you rather have a couple of beers first?

-How funny is your 9am class? It’s like every week you look at your schedule and say, “Ha! As if I’m waking up for that one! Not a chance in hell!” It’s hilarious to think what you were actually thinking when you scheduled that class.

-The thing with email is that it is so easy to fuck up so hugely. Case in point, the other day I wrote this fairly long letter to one of my good friends, describing in detail my excessive partying and joking about what the girls call me after a night in bed. And then I accidentally sent it to my English professor! The worst part is when the accidental receiver writes back, it’s always something embarrassing like, “Nice message, Big Daddy.” Fuck me.

HOME

-First of all, can you believe we’re in fucking college! Do you remember what your room at home looked like? Or what your parents look like? Shit, what the hell happened!?

-When my mom asked me if I know my way around, I said yes, but what I really meant was that I can only find the one room I have class in in each of only four buildings, the frat houses, the places that sell beer, anything open 24 hours, my room, twelve other kid’s rooms, and 7-Eleven.

-I have no idea how to do laundry. No, no, not like I have some idea but just don’t know how much fabric softener to use, I mean I have NO IDEA how to do laundry. I just had this vision that there would be some cute chick in the laundry room every time I went there who would show me how to do it. Dreams die hard, but I have no underwear.

-I really really really really really really really really miss my mommy.

-Three weeks? It seems like three years! Jesus! Every day seems likes a week! Every week is like a month! What the hell is going on here!?

-I have entered a communist society. I own nothing, it all belongs to the university. I have no money, it’s all my parents. My meals are served in little square portions at one brick building during only certain hours of the day! Help, I’m in Russia!

-OK, it’s been fun, now it’s time to go home. Wait, what do you mean this isn’t camp? It seems just like camp! What? Four more years!?

-Do you remember how to drive?

-Back to the cafeteria food – are you kidding me? Honestly, what is this? Mystery meat? My general rule of thumb is that if you have to ask what it is, just have a salad instead.

-College life is like a fucked-up spin cycle: Sleep, Beer, Eat, Work (a little), Beer. Repeat as necessary.

-How can these teachers be soooo boring? Aren’t there any screening processes? Do they just pick these guys off the street and say, “Hey, want to be an Ivy League professor?” I swear to God I have that guy from “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” for at least three classes.

-If campus is supposed to be so diverse, how come everyone is white and from Long Island?

-Are you good with names? I fucking forget them as soon as I hear them. Might as well not tell me at all! I have no idea what anyone’s names are except my own, the kids I went to high school with, and that one hot girl who I have never spoken to but stalk from afar.

-Remember when we were in high school and we used to check our email on AOL and all our friends from college would forward us this funny shit, and we’d be like, who the hell writes this stuff? Oh, shit, I’m one of them now. Fuck me.

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