After reading 50 Shades of Grey, women across the nation tentatively broach the subject of light bdsm with their husbands and boyfriends. Experts calculate that if the energy of all the blood that collectively rushed into those men’s erections had been harnessed, it could have ended our dependency on foreign oil. Unfortunately, those miraculous boners are expended wastefully in about 2.3 minutes.
The Arab Spring really starts to pick up speed, just in time for autumn. You come back from your incredibly meaningful socio- politico-trans-cultural exchange where you learned new ways of thinking, new ways of living, and, most importantly, new ways of drinking. Or, for some of you, you come to campus fresh off your post-high school summer high, bright eyed, unaware that you are leaving the last time you will be truly carefree.
Several older white Republican men try to show off their thorough knowledge of the female body, and utterly fail. You go to that first career fair of the year where you can’t find that “perfect fit,” but you leave confident that with hard work and patience, your future is secure. Big Game comes early, apologizes, we say it can happen to anyone, but we’re left wanting more, and turn to the Rose Bowl to meet our needs.
New Jersey takes a bath for the first time in decades,and discovers it was beautiful all along, under the trash and the tattoos, while New Yorkers freak out over a little rain. And we got our first Black president. Again.
You make your voice heard by telling Facebook it can keep its grimy paws off your pictures- not through coordinated boycotts or action or concerted effort, but with a vaguely legal-sounding status posted on Facebook itself, in the spirit of Martin Luther and our own founding fathers. You pretend to know what the fiscal cliff is in conversations with other people who are probably also pretending, or to pick up that cute economics major at that party. The world ends, but you still have to turn in your pset the next day.
The engineers among you head out once more to a career fair, with newly formatted resumes and newly lowered standards. You leave your names with all the usual folk and maybe one or two “curve balls,” then go back to your dorms to wait eagerly by the phone. When nobody calls, you become suddenly very into football and divert any questions about your future with “Who’s thinking about jobs right now? We’re playing in the Orange- uh, I mean the… Rose? Yeah, the Rose Bowl!”
Your antics are too much for the Pope, who throws up his hands and steps down. The Super Bowl pits two brothers against each other in a Shakespearian drama. You may find yourself repeating the same day over and over and over and over and over…
ResEd attacks our most fundamental freedom and tens of students answer the call to action. Many, however, are sidetracked by wildly popular Apps Lulu and Tindr, which streamline our favorite activity, superficial judging. Kim Jong Un gets angry over a negative Lulu rating.
You vote for whichever ASSU candidates interrupted your meals the least. Then, the last big job fair of the year arrives. You show up ready for anything- and we mean anything. You’re in your best suit, you’ve got a personalized cover letter for each and every employer there, sprayed with just a whiff of the recruiters favorite perfume. You don’t even want to think about what you had to do to get that information, but what you’re about to do makes even that look like pansies in the park. Slowly, you approach a Start Up…
May or may not be the best month. We ask MGMT to play ONE song for us, and they look down at us and whisper, “No.” People come together to talk excitedly about spending hours by themselves watching Arrested Development. Facebook reminds you of Mothers’ Day.