To the Theos boy that likes to lick my butthole: Is this also how you clean your Audi rims?

To uncircumsised Europeans: I wish only one of your heads wore scarves.

To the kid with the salami in my French class: Put that away, it is the morning.

To the boy I was hooking up with: We've had sex three times but I STILL can't recognize your face in VP, and I don't know who that's more embarrassing for.

To the boy in Zete who asked me not to tell anyone he was bad in bed: I told.

To the girl who eats straight out of a frosting can in the Huntsman Forum: You are doing life right.

To the guy who dumped me on Locust in the middle of a Mask & Wig protest: The protest lasted longer than you ever did.

To the Castle arsonist: Next time can you please burn a building that my classes are in.

To the guy I made eye contact with while picking my nose in Fisher: Don't worry; I got it.

To the girl who punched a guy in his crotch with boxing gloves on Halloween: You've got balls.

To the judgmental nurses in SHS: Do you really need to know how much I drink and how often I fuck to figure out I have a sinus infection?

To the 24–year–old who introduced me to bondage: You're still on campus; who's really tied down here?

To the grey hair I just found: Thanks for reminding me we're all just slowly creeping towards death.

To my NSO BEST FRIENDS EVER!!: I can't fucking stand you. I watch your snap stories out of courtesy.

To the guy who came to visit me while studying abroad: 4,000 miles wasn't enough distance for you to get the message?

To SigEp: I will fuck as many of you as I need to in order to steal your dog.

To the WilCaf barista on Wednesday mornings: I can't tell if I actually think you're cute or I have caffeine goggles, but either way I love you.

To the cute guy who lives a few floors above me: I don't even care that you hooked up with my sister.

To everyone who went abroad this semester: I can't wait to see how much weight you've gained from all the local cuisine you Snapstoried.

To Hummus: Your free pickles and olives are my cocaine.

To the boy who lit the fire in the Castle closet: Thanks for helping us all understand there was no one hiding in there. I guess this ends our game of European or gay?

To kale: You taste horrible.

To the Apes sophomore who sent an apology email to my sorority listserv: ΣΔΤ a dick.

To the bathroom on the 6th floor of VP: Thanks for creating the most welcoming and ideal pooping environment.

To my closeted roommate: It's alright, it's okay, we all know you fucked a guy the other day.

To the Cornell guy I made out with at Oktoberfest: Does puking in your mouth count if I don't remember it?

To the blonde Tridelt senior who puked in my shoe: You puked in my shoe.

To that basic bitch on 2nd floor Riepe: Tuesday at 2pm is a bad time to get crossfaded. (Ed. note: We disagree.)

To the guy at the DP who told me we should have sex over FB chat: What are you waiting for?

To my roommate: Thank you for letting me hook up with a complete stranger in your bed because I was too blackout to find mine. Way to take one for the team.

To the boy I awkwardly made eye contact with on 6th floor VP: I was just zoning out, not judging you for doing coke off the table.

To the girls on campus that rock black and shine gold: Glad you thot Theta :).

To that girl complaining about how stressful OCR is: I know the closest you've been to an info session is the omelette line at Bridge. Calm down.

To the guy who hangs out in his first–floor room on Chancellor naked with the shades open: I see you.

To SAE: You were cute until you started trying harder than will.i.am at any concert, ever.

To my professor: When you slip on your Crocs every morning, does the impending day of sheer comfort ever overwhelm you?

To the one they call needledick: Yeah, I lied about stopping after you graduated. Also, you have a needledick.

To the Wharton kid who calls the rest of the recitation "my colleagues": Your colleagues think you should do less.

To the guy obsessed with LL Bean: You are my role model.

To the seemingly middle aged woman in my comm class: Stop bottom shaming me through your pointed questions.

To the Chipotle door: One day, you will open on my first try.

To the gay boy who complained about a guy's dick being too small: News flash, you also have a micropenis.

To the non–sensical Tridelt in my creative writing class: Your name is a hashtag in my group chat

To my stoner hookup from last semester's PoliSci class: I stopped booty texting when I found out you were libertarian.

To the boy whose foreskin I bit: Sorry, I thought that was part of foreplay.

To the boy who did a line of coke off of my penis: You unfortunately look like a coke whore.

To the freshman girl I made out with: I'm 100% homosexual.

To my Uber drivers: Thanks for driving me to DRL every Tuesday and Thursday.

To the sorority bitches in my comm class: Take off your stack of Cartier bracelets when you type, it's so FUCKING LOUD.

To that boy who wears all Lulu to the gym: Stop talking about it! You're hot though. (Ed note: Sorry, I’ll keep it on the DL next time).

To Theos boys who wear "joggers": You don't look trendy, you look like you took a fucking dump in your pants.

To all the closeted senior guys: College is the time to experiment, and I am here for you.

To the Swedes of Penn: Why aren't you hotter? You're supposed to be hotter.

To seniors who think they're impressive for graduating a semester early: Congratulations on suffering through the living world sector earlier than you had to.

To Kate the waxer at Adolf Biecker and Andy Laundry: You should write the Round Up considering you know more campus gossip than highbrow can ever hope to know. (Ed. note: Staff applications are coming out soon.)

Shoutout to no shave November: For giving NJBs the chance to feel like men for 30 glorious days.

To the Asian guy who cried freshman year about only getting BJs: I hope you've found better ways to cope.

To my roommates who started sleeping together this year: You're redefining the meaning of sisterhood.

To the bitch who cut in front of me in line at Mark's Cafe: I would've told you about the toilet paper stuck to your shoe, but it seemed like justice.

To last night's DFMO: What gives you the right to sit next to me in Frontera?

To the boy in Theos who said we should talk again soon: Does Venmo charging you for half of my Plan B count?

To the abroad boyfriend who I told all my home friends actually existed: You have three weeks to save me from being a liar.

To the bitch who ate my cereal: That was dog food.

To the girls with abroad blogs: Drinking a beer in a pub doesn’t make you cultured, only fat.

To the sociology professor with the great body: If you didn't wear tight pants every morning, I wouldn't be at your 10am.

To Wayne Gretzky: You said I miss 100% of the shots I don't take, and now I'm an alcoholic.

To the British exchange student who dressed up as Dracula for Halloween: I vant to suck your cahck.

To that Phi guy: Thanks for the rose, but I still think you should have told me your sperm was visibly in my hair all night.

To the girl who thought I would ruin her Uber rating by drunkenly yelling at the driver to turn off his sad classical music: Yeah, sorry :/.

To the job application that asked me what my greatest accomplishment was: Does going to the gym last month count?

To my ex with the weird snaky penis: You really know how to slither all over me…my roommate…and my other roommate.

To the long–haired WilCaf man: Hands down hottest sex I've had at Penn. Can I come into your house one more time?

To the JAP who wears both an Apple watch and a Cartier watch: I hope Siri has helped you learn how to read an analog clock.

To the HUP doctor who told me I'm on a bad trajectory in life: I'm sorry that you had to clean up my burrito puke at 6am. But also, fuck you.

To my Phi Delt hook up: I just stayed because there was a dog.

To the guy I bled on this summer: I'm sorry I bled on you, and I'm even sorrier that I ran into that dude from my French class in the hallway while naked and drunk and bloody.

To the SAE sophomore who is always white girl wasted: You licked my ear at a downtown, and I haven't washed it since.

To the freshman boy who bragged about being in Wharton: You are not the only person I know in Wharton

To Iztaccihuatl: Please lift the restraining order. I'm sorry.

To the fuq buddy who stole my Keurig: …Why?

To the boys on 40th and Sansom streets: I'm sorry I hid ten gallon–sized Ziploc bags of tap water all over your house. Five found, five to go, bitches.

To the Uber driver that gave me a one star review: I had a five star orgasm in the backseat ;).

To the bouncer who told me if I didn't want a leak I shouldn't have put vodka in my crotch: You are a wise man.

To Qdoba: You is kind, you is smart and you is better than Chipotle.

To Renea, the KCECH security worker: Thank you for always complimenting me on my date night outfits. You are sweeter than the guys I go out with.

To my bf: I'm sorry for the shitty handjob last week.

To the football player with a cat named Timone: I respect you.

To the guys in MARS: I'm shouting "YES!"

To the WilCaf Baristas: Is it just me, or is there something brewing between us?

To the Theos senior who told me he was "worth the chase": I already went on a run today.

To the girl who eats parfaits ten times a day: Are you cultured enough yet?

To the guy who turned on his fireplace application while we were hooking up in the Quad: The fire was as warm as you are.

To the British guy in Castle I hooked up with last year: Sorry for not showing you the secret to my Christmas Puddings.

To the cute redhead in my chem class: I Sulfur when you Argon. (Seriously though, why do you skip class every Friday?)

Shoutout to the Ivy League Snapchat story: For being a better matchmaker than J–Swipe.

To all of Pi Lam: PLEASE go to church.

To the junior girl who's a total narcissist: I'm glad you have so much fun watching yourself dance in the mirror when you're out; must be nice to have a dance partner who's always in sync with you.

To my housemate whose period blood dripped on her carpet one morning: Pollock would have applauded your drip painting.

To Owls: Your spirit animal is Antonio from Despicable Me 2.

To the hot senior boy from Hong Kong: Dig deep enough into my hole and we can end up back in China.

To the Beta senior who now ignores me: I'm not sure which is uglier: your personality or your O–face.

To the St. A's boy whose clean laundry I once peed on while blackout: Sorry, but don't leave your hamper of whites next to the bathroom at a frat party.

To the guy at CVS on 40th Street who always asks if I've "found everything alright": I'm buying tampons and Cheez–Its. I think I'm good.

To the hot Swedish blonde boy I see in first floor Huntsman study lounge multiple times a day: Have my children. And me. I love you.

To my orgo professor: Congrats! You've fucked me the hardest.

To the guy I hooked up with on my birthday and the jar of Nutella I ate afterwards: Why did you have to finish so quickly?

To the 132: Your optimism is cute.


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