Dear Child Who Bought Too Many Balloons and Is Now about to Float into Restricted Airspace,
Earlier this year, I was biking to class when I got into a pretty nasty bike accident. Since then, I’ve been too afraid to ride my bike around campus, particularly in between classes. Do you have any recommendations about getting back my cycling confidence?
Sincerely,
Traumatized in Terra
Dear Traumatized,
Listen, can you call my mom? I think she’s still at Trader Joe’s in the produce aisle – Oh my god OH MY GOD. Don’t look down. What if I…just…let a few of these balloons go. Like, maybe…one – oh Jesus – okay. We’re up here now. Just ride your bike, while you still can.
Dear CWBMBINFRA,
I’m currently debating whether or not to pursue a minor in English. Should I do it?
Sincerely,
Fuzzy in FloMo
Dear Fuzzy,
I KNOW I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE. Sorry, I’m just trying to tell the people at that military base below me that – NO, I KNOW I’M NOT – I CAN’T CONTROL THESE THINGS – THEY’RE JUST NORMAL BALLOONS FROM TRADER JOES. Okay, Fuzzy, do what you feel passionate about because one day you could be out buying some Joe’s O’s, and, next thing you know, you’re drifting into a military no-fly zone. Life is fickle, Fuzzy. Carpe balloonem.
Dear CWBMBINFRA,
I was at Phi Psi last week and seem to have lost my wallet (it’s a black leather wallet with a few credit cards). If you see it, could you please get it back to me?
Thanks,
Moneyless in Manzanita
Dear Moneyless,
…I think…I think they’re sending help to get me down from here. Yes, YES, here we go. Wait, is that a MiG? Oh dear God, it’s coming for me. Fuck your wallet, Moneyless. Fuck Trader Joe’s. Fuck balloons.
