I am tired and aggravated, and do you know why? I’ll tell you why. When I got into Stanford, I imagined palm trees, perpetual sunshine, and the best times of my life.  What I got were flipping 6 am wakeup calls from the clubs I signed up for.  But they weren’t even something competitive, like varsity, ya know? They’re just clubs.  I just picked up a pen at the activities fair and wrote down my contact info because they looked so desperate.  I mean, nobody was signing up for their clubs, so I felt bad and stopped by.  But, anyone could have done that.  So why in the world are they pounding down my door at flipping six in the flipping morning to initiate me into some organization for saving the alcoholic lost souls of the San Francisco Zoo’s koala exhibit.  I mean, what the fudge?  Really? You had to wake me from my beauty sleep to congratulate me for being able to hold a pen and scribe my name and info?  What. The. Fudge. And what’s with that glittery shizz you sprayed all over my door?  Are you trying to get R&DE on my ass?  Huh?  Do I look like I put “glitter-sprinkled carpet” on my room condition form? What if I get a lawsuit from R&DE huh?  And all for your sad little alcoholic koalas.  I mean, where are your priorities, man? Do I look like I flipping care?  Huh? In fact, if I ever see one of those koalas now, I’m gonna offer it a beer, and then as it’s little koala life spirals out of control, then you’ll wish you’d just let me sleep.

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