I’m a senior. I’m too GD old to be taking the freshmen campus shuttle, but I’m also too damn old to keep these legs walking miles to campus a day (Okay, exaggeration, but too lazy is most definitely accurate). But the more I ride the shuttle, the more I realize that so many people are doing it so wrong.
- Wait your damn turn to get on the bus. You wait for the other people to get off. It’s like an elevator. You’re not going to shove your way on just to have it clear out two seconds later. Just slow down, it won’t leave without you. You will get on. Calm the f*ck down.
- If there is an open seat behind me, across from me, any damn where on the bus, do not f*cking sit with me. This tiny ass bus seat is my personal space and you’re invading it. It’s only acceptable when there is literally no other seats available. Otherwise, f*ck right off.
- Say thank you to the shuttle driver, think about how much you hate riding the RamVan and realize that the driver is on it for an 8 hour shift. Be gracious, you rude little assh*les.
Follow these rules and you can avoid making everyone else’s time spent on that miserable glorified school bus just a tiny bit better.
Is it too early in the semester for me to see how many times in a row I can snooze my alarm before I have to wear pajamas to class?
Because I am wearing pajamas to class today. The snooze button won.
Is it too early in the semester to be behind on everything?
Because I have about 87 projects coming up or due that, I don’t know, I just haven’t gotten around to starting.
Is it too early in the semester to completely shut off every single ounce of motivation that I have to finish?
I am really a non-confrontational person, but when I hear that you are talking sh*t about me behind my back, it makes me feel even more sorry for you.
I’m sorry that I am not 15 years old and in high school anymore. Your words mean even less when I hear them from other people. If you have a problem with me, talk to me. We’re all adults here. Tell me about it. I’m sick of all the pettiness, avoid me, tell this person, whisper down the lane.
I really cannot be bothered with you as a human, and really couldn’t care less if you like me, dislike me, poke a voodoo doll of me with pins. I. Don’t. Care.
But just know, your pettiness reflects your character, not mine.
Hey Germs around the world; f*ck off,
No, that doesn’t mean anything other than germs. I mean all the little things that weasel their way into your body and make you feel like sh*t. You’re assh*les!
I think that you’re mean spirited and you make me feel bad. I want you to go away and not come back. You’re like that mean girl in the seventh grade who laughs at my new shoes, even though I think they’re cool. Except, you’re a germ laughing at and crushing my health, even though I think being healthy is cool.
A Seriously Delirious and Drugged Up on Nyquil MazzyMaz.
I don’t wanna. I can’t. Stop making me.
I’m at that point where I am so close to graduation, so it would be a total waste of an investment of $80k+ to drop out, but not gonna lie, I consider it daily.
College would not be so bad if there wasn’t homework and we got paid to be there. Oh right, so a job.
College is a job and I’m not even getting paid. And don’t whine at me with this bullish*t about “you get paid with grades and a degree.” No. That is not payment. That is good collateral damage after sleepless nights, billions of written words, grade haggling with professors, and so many meals not made by my chef/genius mom.
I thought that last semester was hard. I was a whiny lil b*tch because I was heart broken, I was eating my feelings and London was 3,500 miles away. But no, nope, I think it might just be that being a senior sucks.
I can’t d*ck around with my friends every single night because the thesis writing has amassed in not sleeping due to writing endlessly. I can’t keep drinking because my liver can’t handle it. Neither can my metabolism. I have to find a job because I have to pay my student loans six months after graduation. I have to pay rent and bills and still have spending money when my friends want to do adult things like having real conversations over a nice dinner. What the hell?
I’m over it. Can I be a junior again? Less commitment to adulthood.
So, I’m not a very openly emotional person, but I do have a habit of sarcasm-ing my way through a story. I am pretty open about what’s going on in my life, but I don’t always appropriately address how those situations make me feel.
My sarcasm also sometimes is so well developed that people actually believe that I am aloof and don’t really see what’s going on, so I’m constantly given advice about how I should act or be in a certain situation to avoid getting hurt or worse, expelled. (That’s a Harry Potter joke and if you don’t get it, I just don’t think we can be friends anymore).
But I just wanted to clear something up, just because I act like I don’t care, constantly, it doesn’t actually mean that I don’t care. I am extremely emotionally intelligent when it comes to other people. I also am pretty good at protecting my own emotions, some times a little too good. So, while it’s nice to have people that care for me, it also felt necessary to say that I can handle this. So, I love you, but let me do this. You can say “I told you so” later if you must.
What’s good, f*cker?
Have you lived a full life? Are you happy with the things you’ve done? Could you die right now knowing that you left your mark on the world? Because if not, you might want to get those things in line because I’m about ready to kill you.
Nothing is worse than seeing your best friend sad or upset or crying, especially nothing is worse than when it is caused by someone that you know is so not worth their time. Watching them trying to figure out what “they did wrong” makes me want to vomit.
You are just an assh*le who didn’t recognize this beautiful creature lurking right before you, and abide by their simple request, whether it be for space or for more of your time. So, basically, if I didn’t already think you’re an idiot and scum, I certainly do now.
I also can’t tell you how many times I tell my best friend to let you go. And just know, that if they ever do go back to you, I will bite my tongue since you’re already dead to me, but the second you slip out of line, you’re toast. I know people who know people. The Jersey Italians will know your address.
A Supremely Pissed Off Best Friend