To alleviate your obvious disappointment as legitimized by the numerous e-mails I received after last week’s scene ran with only two photos of me and no column, I’m baaaaack! I guarantee this week’s lambastes will fill the gap of time between your facebook stalking of your Gender and Sexuality in Africa TA and toning that bulging gut.
Dear Salad Bar Traffic Jammer:
If there’s one thing I hate, it’s inefficiency. My people do not stand for such.
It is the exact reason why I hate you: yes you, at the salad bar, picking out the perfect lettuce leaf, making sure there’s exactly 1.5 ounces of Thousand Island dressing, and counting how many corn kettles will adorn your salad. Not to be rude or anything, but there’s this thing I have called a life (read: crying in the shower) that I’d like to get back to before Beelzebub is gnawing on my lower torso during the Second Coming. I’m sure as hell not wasting any time just so that you can have the perfect salad. What are you trying to prove? Are you parading the fact that your figure can’t afford the mozzarella or the dressing? Or are you trying to show off your OCD as some desperate cry to be noticed?
Fine. Here’s a platter and on top of it is your 15 minutes.
Now get the f*ck out of the line.
Dear Asian Boy with Perpetual Cowlick:
We have a bad enough reputation already: AZN Toads (aka CCL), eating cats (because you know we really do eat dogs), being legally christened a nickname and here’s the kicker: a lack of endowment (and I’m not referring to your trust fund). If we’re going to fight this together, we’re going to have to work from the bottom up.
This means tackling our most monstrous stereotype of all: the cowlick.
You know what I’m talking about: that bobbing appendage that moves in sync with your fast little steps through HGS. If there’s one thing our immaculate straight black hair cannot pull off, it’s the “I Just Got Out of Bed After a Night of Tantric with Demi — Ashton Kutcher” look. In reality, we end up just like we’ve been up until 4:00 am studying for the Natty Haz final three weeks before the actual midterm date or watching anime and programming our TI-89s, which is exactly what I’ve been doing — plus the hentai.
There is good news, however: this aesthetic disturbance is easily rectified. Ever hear of “pomade” or “wax sticks” (both of which can be purchased at your neighborhood Wal-Greens)? Even not washing your hair for a month works, though you’ll have to Febreze your scalp every other day. Or if you want to be completely shunned like me, you could throw on a beanie even when it’s hotter than the 9th circle of hell and look like a phallus.
Trust me: it’s worth it.
Then again, maybe you should embrace your cowlick… it could be the new Crocs.
Dear Wild’N’Crazy Party Boy With “Girls Gone Wild” Hat:
Hey there wild’n’crazy boy with your wild’n’crazy Girls Gone Wild trucker hat! How original and wild’n’crazy of you! Did you get it as a consolation prize for the time GGW was blueballed by their taping at Yale?
Or did you shell out 20 bucks just to legitimize your wild’n’craziness? I, and the rest of the student population, think so much more highly of you now, you wild and crazy chap, you! Wear it to class to obliterate the misconception that you are, in fact, another dork at Yale who hasn’t gotten laid since Jewish Summer Camp, or wear it when you go out at night to exude that you are supremely social, love the boobies, and support their latest achievement — “GGW: Island Orgy Volume III,” which shows profound transcendental growth since volume II.
Joe Aphinyanaphongs hides his cowlick beneath his trucker hat while agonizing over which salad dressing to apply to his mescaline greens.