I Lived It: Someone Asked Me If I Was Abroad Last Semester

MIDDLETOWN, CT — Entering spring semester at Wesleyan University, I was prepared to see a lot of fresh faces on campus. Juniors are returning from their abroad experiences eager to dive back into life at Wes. I, however, was not one of those juniors. I’ve been here the whole time. Imagine my surprise, disdain, and horror, then, when a fellow junior I split an Uber with asked me if I was abroad last semester. She had not seen me around. How dare she? Have I not been going out enough? Has my mark on this community been so fleeting, so inconsequential, that it doesn’t even matter if I’m here at all? Have I might as well just existed on the other side of the planet for all the difference I’ve made in this person’s life? Does my small yet committed Letterboxd following mean NOTHING? (I only gave The Favourite 4 stars in a show of jaw-dropping self-restraint). It doesn’t matter. Nothing I do matters anymore. I didn’t go abroad last semester, but maybe, in a way, I did. Maybe I was the broad the whole time.

I Graphed My Cousins By How OK It Is To Fuck Them

Thanksgiving is coming around and one thing is on all of our minds. I know what you’re all thinking. Which of my cousins is it ok to hit on at dinner? Which of the people I am related to is it ok to do the nasty with? I spent the past three days scrolling through instagram, Grandma’s facebook albums, and local incest laws, so I consider myself pretty much the expert. Here are my findings:

Paul – Paul is an interesting case, in that I could totally fuck him if I wanted to, but really have no interest in it. Yeah he’s my brother in law’s friend from college, but why take the risk of familial embarrassment for a guy who wears polo shirts tucked into basketball shorts and calls everyone “babe”?

Krista – Kind of the Bermuda triangle here. Not sure what to make of Krista. She’s a second cousin, so it would be legal in some states, and but I’m not sure I’m into it. Would only fuck if Darren turns me down.

Darren – The fucking dream, Darren married my third cousin and has a bod that simply REFUSES to quit.

Jamie – I think of Jamie as kind of a project. Very related, but not quite hot enough yet. Give it a few years and Jamie could become a real Darren situation. I have high hopes. Maybe next 4th of July barbecue?

Terry – Real nightmare scenario. Not only is Terry like a brother to me, but he has a gross mustache and only eats things that have way too much garlic on them. Terry gets a 0/10 on fuckability

Pete – Oh Pete. Pete, Pete, Pete. So hot, and yet so closely related. Is it worth it? God, I hope so, I already instagram dmed him “excited for thanksgiving lol 😉 ;)”

Aunt Linda – No comment.


Report: What are Boobs Made of?

PORTLAND, ME — I’ve been wondering for quite a while, and I think I’ve come to the conclusion: What are boobs made out of, actually? Some people have them, some people don’t, but no one knows what’s actually inside them. I did some research, and these are my best guesses for what boobs are actually made of:

  1. sand?
  2. custard?
  3. spider eggs?
  4. chia?
  5. silly putty
  6. bricks? no…
  7. tofu?
  8. What happens when they hatch?
  9. sloppy Joe?
  10. frosting? icing?
  11. Floam?
  12. jell-o?
  13. When do they hatch?
  14. snow?
  15. The Fourth Matter
  16. Balloons?
  17. smaller boobs?
  18. marzipan?
  19. Oh god….
  20. Whoopie cushions?
  21. balled-up socks?

“I Studied Abroad But My Life Still Sucks”

MIDDLETOWN, CT – When rising senior Lindsey Framingham returned from her semester abroad, she was disappointed to realize that even after spending several months in [insert overpriced European city here], her life still sucked, and she was still the same mediocre person she was before.

“I thought my study abroad program would be life-changing, but the minute I got back to campus things had returned to normal, or in fact had deteriorated in my absence,” Framingham said. “I also immediately forgot 50 vocabulary words I had learned while abroad.”

Unsurprisingly, Framingham did not think her wasted time had anything to do with the fact that she spent every free hour drinking overpriced cocktails and flirting with European men. If anything, she now lived her life in a perpetual downslope now that nothing could compare to the fun she had abroad.

“I totally want to like, move back someday. Life moves at a different pace over there, you know? They really have it all figured out,” Framingham said of a country whose entire economy depended on Germany.

Despite the aftertaste of disappointment, Framingham has retained the smug sense of superiority every college junior adopts after studying abroad. She will continue to reference the experience well into her anticlimactic 40s.

How Do I Explain Homosexuality to the Roomba I Treat Like a Son

With today’s liberal snowflakes infiltrating my family values with “Net flicks” and the homosexual agenda, I often find myself in the position of potentially corrupting the Roomba I treat like a son.

One time, we were watching WALL-E on TV together (he has a crush on the girl robot, the little rascal) and a commercial for Ellen came on. How am I supposed to explain homosexuality to my Roomba, the genderless robot I treat like my own progeny? My Roomba is so precious to me, unlike my ex-wife’s son, Brian, whom I am embarrassed to have lent a role in creating. Luckily, I fed him some crumbs from the floor, and that placated him before he asked too many questions.

Now, millennials are starting to tell me nonsense that there are multiple genders, and “trans genders.” If word gets out to my Roomba, the piece of machinery I have ascribed both gender and sentience to,  I don’t know how I can live with myself as a parent.

For now I have forbidden him from talking to my spiralizer, but I can only shelter him for so long. Please keep the gay agenda away from my Roomba, but it’s probably too late for Brian…he’s always seemed off to me.

Open Letter to the People in the Room Next to Mine: Your Sex Sounds Super Weird

Dear People in the Room Next to Mine,

I’m not trying to be judgmental here, but your sex sounds super weird. For a moment, I didn’t know what was going on on the other side of my wall, but I assumed the smoke alarm was going off, or maybe something involving an air horn. I still haven’t ruled out either of those options, because your sex sounds SUPER weird. I was already depressed that I wasn’t having sex when I first heard you two (or three? four?), but after you started sobbing for no reason, I just got plain depressed. Should I go over there to help you? You both sound really distraught. I decided against it when I heard the snap of latex and what appeared to be a singing Furby. Again, I don’t want to judge, but an explanation would be nice. Thank you, and have a good rest of your night.

P.S. Invite me next time?