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This Issue 04/17/2008

Also in this issue

• Movie Magic
• Street Beats
• Shoutgun Sounds
• Editor's Picks
• Ropeadope Records

To the Smokes bouncer in Castle: You're lucky you work in the dark because otherwise everyone would see the glare from your bald spot.

To my a cappella group: Please stop getting drunk and making out with each other. It makes rehearsal uncomfortable, and I'm worried that this continued incest will produce deformed, mutant a cappella babies.

To the Junior Class Board: The one responsibility you have this year is Hey Day, and you couldn't even move it from a Tuesday... when everyone has class. Not boding well for Feb Club '09.

To the friendly receptionist at Planned Parenthood: It's kind of creepy that you know my name. I have this weird feeling you are counting my abortions.

To the kids that ride unicycles around campus: If you are going to use a ridiculous looking and inefficient means of transportation, why not take up penny-farthing? (look it up)

To my weird roommate who says we can't have a microwave because it's, like, bad for the environment: The last time you asked me to clean our apartment, I used all of the ozone-depleting, animal-killing, rainforest-destroying products I could get my hands on. Funny how global warming smells lemony-fresh.
To the Theta in my history recitation: What could possibly be going on in your life that would cause you to make that horrible face for 50 minutes straight? I'd give you a hug, but I'm afraid you'd steal my soul.

To the disgusting St. A's senior who buys people over by taking them to Turks and Caicos: You're fucking gross. Go get a life and stop talking about your parents' money - clearly it's gotten you nowhere.

To Pierre: What are you doing Friday?

To the llama at Zetes: We saw you get dragged out on a leash by some busted chick for a photo op. Don't worry, we've been through worse. XOXO, Beta.

Dear Mortar Board, Sphinx, and Your Sorry Ilk: You matter less than UA elections, and your vandalism/self-promotion is almost as bad. You're the most miserable group of self-indulgent pricks on campus since the Clinton campaign left. Choke on your shit and then tell me it don't stink. -The Guy Who Egged You

To the Ayuda Ball: You were more overhyped and less satisfying than the average Theos boy. Like sex with said boy, only half-naked cokeheads enjoyed it. Sniffles.

To God: You seriously had to rescue the Jews on 4/20 this year? Brisket and matza just don't quite satisfy like Ben and Jerry's.
To Pike: All things considered, I'm glad I ended up on the pavement instead of down some pledge's gullet. Congratulations on initiating another fine group of young men. Sincerely, the dead goldfish lying outside your house.

To the blond sibling in CGS: Stop cheating on your boyfriend for coke.

To Comic Sans: I hope you lead a sad, lonely life full of cats and "as seen on TV" appliances. I hate you.

To Penn: Stop making me feel like a 7-year-old in intergalactic battle school being subjected to the most rigourous stressful battle situations. Thanks.