To, like, the girl in, like, my Film History class who, like, likes to say the word like, like all the time: Shut the fuck up before I, like, vomit all over your vocal cords so, like, they finally smell the way you talk.
To nap: I really like doing you in the afternoon in my bed.
To the kid who decided to take a shit in the Hill stairwell: You suck at life. And we will find you.
To the Theos juniors that get their hair chemically straightened: Just when you're house couldn't get any gayer...
To My AEPi Senior Neighbors: Playing trashy techno at maximum volume does not compensate for the fact that you're actually having a three person loser-fest on your porch. Turn it down before I come over there, break all of your CDs, and cut your wrists with them.
To Pat Maloney: You single-handedly caused the demise of Road Rules. Stop prancing around campus like a leprechaun and fucking graduate already.
To anyone at Pottruck "running" on the treadmills at less than 6 mph: What you're doing is not called running, it's called wasting space.
To Leah Popowich: You are the hottest girl at Penn. This was decided unanimously.
To the chunky shemale who took my sloppy seconds: If he couldn't find my clit, he definitely won't find yours. There's way too much to sort through.
To the racially-confused Theta senior who took a pregnancy test in the Huntsman bathroom: Good luck figuring out who the father is.
To the girl in my photo class who flirts shamelessly with the professor: You're not fooling anyone. We all saw you trying to rub up against him in the darkroom. To the anorexic girls at Penn: I put whole milk and regular syrup in your skim sugar-free lattes everyday.
To rich white girls with problems: Splenda and Adderall won't fix anything
To the students who work at the Rodin front desk on Saturday nights: Is it really necessary to call security every time I roll up completely trashed and try to sign in a guy whose name I clearly don't know? I know you have no sex lives, but that doesn't mean you have to ruin mine.
To the girl flyering me about cancer on Locust Walk when I walked by sucking down a cigarette: I had a good laugh. We should do that again some time.
To the photographers of The Walk hogging all the studio time on weekends in Addams: Please stop, it's quite irritating. And so is your music. And so is your make-up. And so is your magazine. And so is your fashion sense. Nice lighting though.
To all the frat-dogs with your shirts off: There's no need to play shirts versus skins when you play volleyball. In case you didn't know, you stand on opposite sides of the net.
To the AXO dropout who thinks she "belongs in Theta": Stop showing up at our events. We don't like you. We know you "live life out loud, no regrets" - we just regret that you're not out of our lives. Go pee in another garbage bag or something.
To the Asian girl in my film class who completely ignored the democratic process of voting in deciding which movie to make and insisted on making her own Asian identity film: Red China is in great hands for the next 50 years. I hope you move there directly after graduation.
To the bald white man from Metropolitan Bakery: You are really mean.
To the people that construct sandwiches at Fresh Grocer: Yes, you are putting six pounds of meat on my sandwich, but I nearly strangle you every time because you work in slow motion. Why can't I TiVo this process?
To my Hist489: Sociology of History professor: You're a huge bitch! Oh shit, that's an independent study. Oh well.
To my ex-boyfriend who comes in fifteen seconds (or less): That's not normal. Good thing your new girlfriend is a prude and hasn't figured it out yet.
To the toolbag sophomore M&T in BE: Stop bitching all the time and cut your hair - your head looks like a penis.
To the girl I hooked up with in the fall: 'I'm not a lesbian but I'm SO drawn to you.'
To the notorious de-friender from the OC: Having your mom call your ex-friends to yell at them only clarifies that you are socially retarded. Enjoy a life of solitude on the East Asian floor. Love, loyal to 1813.
To the Reach-a-peer help line: You have now become obsolete with the addition of the new live poke feature on the Facebook. Thanks for the memories.
To the taken, wannabe ZBT Londoner: It was nice fucking you three times ... Oops, so much for 'keeping things quiet.' PS - no, I will not have sex with your virgin friend for his birthday. Love, your dirty mistress.
To that senior in Pi Kapp: Please cut your fingernails.
To the Kappa Sig freshman who tried to stick his finger up my ass: My experience was up there with getting my wisdom teeth pulled. I didn't go back to my dentist for another round, so please stop trying to hook up again.
To my ridiculously hot Geology TA from last semester: Thanks for teaching us about volcanoes. I want to help you erupt ... all over my face.
To the morphine guy that is in love with me: Are you a tranny?
To the hipster with the rolled pant-leg who is constantly riding his fixed gear: Come to the top floor of College Hall and ride me instead. Love, Philo guy.
To the senior George Michael Bluth look-alike in AEPi: Just because your sisters were in SDT, it doesn't mean you have to be IN every SDT.
To the girl whose hair I came all over in Acapulco: Too much teeth.
To the straight kid in Beta ... (that's the punch line)
To Penn Masala: Everyone else at Penn, on YouTube, and in India may love you, but I still hate you. And so does Pakistan.
To my little brother at Princeton: The fact that you are reading this goes to show just how fucking boring your school must be.
To the girl in Chi O who hooked up with Chef Corey: I hope the extra brownies were worth it.
To my roommate who insists on cum-shotting on his baby blanket: I just took Psych 001, and you're batshit crazy.
To the girl in my psych class who is constantly trying to sound smarter than the teacher: Participation counts for 15 percent of our grades, but being a total cunt only gets you 5%. I hope punching you in the uterus gets me an A.
To the Facebook-friendly couple exposed in last week's "Street Sweeper": Please please don't block your Facebook profiles. You have single-handedly maintained my faith in love over the last year, and by maintained my faith in love, I mean maintained my bulimia by helping me throw up on a daily basis.
To my resume: Why do you fail me?
To My Roomie: I know we are friends, but could you please stay out of my bed, especially when I'm in it? Thanks!
To the senior lacrosse gimp: Shave your bajingos and call me.
To my roommate: We all know your secret. Leaving Smokes early to call phone sex hotlines is not a substitute for the real thing.
To the sexy senior in Logic: Stop wearing cologne to class. I can't do numbers when I want to do you.
To the self-righteous Oz senior who spreads lies like wildfire: You are about as cool as Ray Ramano.
To my enemies: I sincerely dislike you.
To Melissa Lamb: We're not going to write a shoutout to you because you've already gotten too much attention. So don't think this is a shoutout, 'cause it's not. Really. Box-in-a-box.
To Mr. Squirrel: I'll let your watery left eye drip on me during our sexual romps under the oak tree. Please put your dick on my shoulder.
To the salad makers at Houston: If your strategy to systematically break down Penn students is to take 40 minutes to make a salad, then touch‚. I cry every time I want a Caesar.
To the students in my 19th Century Novel class: Why do you choose to say comments only using four-syllable words? Watch out, the last day of class I'm bringing a pocket thesaurus and will defenestrate your asses.
To Lisa and Mike: Dreams do come true in The Magic Kingdom. Sadly, all of ours have turned to nightmares after viewing your Facebook album. Question: Did you have a photographer, or were the pictures on self-timer? Really, the composition is exquisite.
To Greg Borgstede: Stop sending me emails about internships at the Philadelphia Zoo. Didn't I tell you my mom was mauled by a tiger this past Christmas? Plus, I'm allergic to pet dander. Wait, is it paid?
To my freshman roommate who sleepwalked and used our mini-fridge as a urinal: Guess what, I "sleepwalked" and came in your Crew conditioner. But on the bright side, your hair has a new sheen and is protein enriched.
To Spills: NO, having sex with dogs does NOT mean you'll have puppies. PS -What is all that barking?
To people who use the term "Loves It": What the fuck does that mean? Is it like "He/She loves it?" A grammatically incorrect form of "I love it," so you seem cool? Seriously, email me with an explanation: jenib@sas.
To the guy with strategically placed dark bangs from Metropolitan Bakery who served me my "tuna or whatever" sandwich: I don't care how much you hate yourself.
To QPenn: Way to fail miserably at ripping us off. Thank you for confirming our stereotype that the gay community is incredibly catty.
