To UTV: Your ugly set and deafening sound make our eyes and ears bleed simultaneously. Please stop punishing us all for the failures of Penn athletics.
To Sigma Nu: Just stop.
To Mask & Wig: No Red and Blue at the end of Fling? A terrible decision that complemented the terrible set you played.
To the frat daddy who hate crimed the homos during Fling: Way to re-assert your masculinity.
To his girlfriend: Anal is hardly a fetish.
To the creepy couple in my Art History recitation: You're not nearly as intelligent as you think you are. So stop groping each other. Also... your ponytail annoys me. And why are you a 30-year-old freshman?
To Thomas Jefferson: Remember that time I told you that I was fucking John Adams? Well I WAS fucking John Adams! XOXO, Sally Hemings.
To the pedo-MBA with the bad male nose job: Referring to yourself in third person is ALMOST as cool as name dropping undergrads. You're totally right thinking cocaine binges with 20-year-olds will up your social status.
To Penn Environmental Group: Thanks for distributing recycling bins to all four of your members. It's too bad the carbon emissions you saved were offset by the massive ego of your president.
To the Fuzzy Chunk: Remember when you popped in that telepathic mind reader DVD? Remember how you completely lost your shit when the phone rang and it was "the magician" thanking you for watching? It wasn't the magician. The dude I asked to call you can barely read words, let alone minds. You can stop being paranoid now.
To morons who chain-smoke while walking down Locust: Picture this. You're marching along trying to get to class on time when you stumble into a huge cloud of ass gas. It smells of rotten eggs and broccoli and it seems to travel with you, no matter which way you move to avoid it. You squint and move your hands rapidly to fan it away, and only then can you see the fat fuck right in front of you, tooting as they go. This is my reality when you lead your death march across campus. All I can say is, you are damn lucky I haven't yet learned to aim farts at will.
To Puneet: No more years!
To SAC Exec Board: You're kind of like the really rich kid everyone passionately hates, but hangs out with anyway just because they have money.
To graduation: I'm going to pretend you're not there. Just like the clap.
To the girl in Chi-O whose name starts with a "J": Stop being such a whiny bitch. Love, the World.
To the girl who punched me in the face after formal: That's not what guys hope for when they get girls drunk. Punch me somewhere else next time.
To Penn administration: What is our school's name? UPenn? Penn? The University of Pennsylvania? Pick one and stick with it.
To Red Bulls: You keep getting bigger, we keep buying them.
To Fresh Grocer: There is nothing fresh about your food. You are the worst grocery store I have ever been in. EVER.
To the new DP editors: How can you buy beer on Thursdays if you're all like 19 years old?
To Zete: Animal cruelty, while fashionable, is not funny. We don't shout "Euro fag" every time you get out of your cages.... the llama deserves the same restraint.
To my liver: I can't even use mouthwash or Lysol wipes without feeling tipsy. Why are you such an asshole?
To the night sky over Philly: You look like a cross between a bloody tampon and vomited up sangria. In other words, a really bad night for Tri-Delt or a really good night for Sigma Nu.
To turning 21: Way to not change my life at all. What a let down.
To the shitfaced freshman loner: Let's recap, because there's no way you'll remember this. I was walking past your door on rounds, commenting to my RA friend on how trashed your hall was, when you stepped outside and barked HEY. We could smell your drunkenness from 10 yards away. You stood there for what seemed like hours, eyeing my credential, staring at us with bloodshot eyes. "Friends?," you said, with such sadness and sincerity that our hearts ached for you. Friends. FRIENDS?! Amazing! Congrats on getting off scott-free.
To my housemate: I don't know why I don't like you, but I can't help it. The only reason I'm glad to be graduating is so I don't have to pretend anymore. Thanks for showing me there's always a silver lining.
To our chick track team: I hear running nude reduces your times.
To the Sigma Chi seniors: Increased cocaine usage won't stop the hole that's sinking your ship. Trust us, we've tried. Sincerely, The Castle.
To the asshole from Hamilton Court who sold me out to "Overheard at Penn": What I do with my stuffed animals is none of your business.
To Cavs: Move to Jersey and take your crowd of construction workers and guidos with you.
To Asian Tourists: This is West Philly. Don't flash the peace sign. To 34th St. and the D.P.: Prepare your lawyers for another round of libel lawsuits.
To ES: If it weren't for your sun-shining, bird-singing, emoticon-filled, carefree e-mails everyday, I would no longer be an English minor. Have you ever cried? Native American Folklore!
To my Legal Studies eye candy: Please take advantage of me all night long.
To the chicken finger/perogie guy: No one's going to form a single-file line during Fling, so stop asking.
To the Tabard idiot parade: There is not enough money in the world to get me to march around wearing high heels and a lampshade hat, a tutu or a sumo outfit at midnight. So, are you retarded, or fantastically incentivized?
To God: Why?
To the Savory staff: Either quit or stop being so damn rude... and I'm still waiting for my damn chicken tenders.
To the man on the motorcycle with the bright yellow gloves and the multi-colored helmet who wouldn't acknowledge his surroundings and swerved in and out of the lanes to avoid us: You are a douchebag. Show yourself.
To the Subway under Commons: You suck. You haven't heard of wheat bread, you run out of cheese and the huge lady bursaring my sandwich can't even hand me the sub in a grocery bag without breaking a sweat. I hate you, and I'd like it toasted with southwest sauce. NEXT!
To the radioactively tan, platinum-haired sophomore chicks: Did you miss the bus on the way to state school?
To Peter from the Naval Academy: Thanks for giving me mono, asshole.
To the person responsible for staffing Jamba Juice: The joke's on you. It's getting pretty old though.
To everyone at Wharton: There are two sets of doors going into Huntsman, use them both. If it helps, ask an Econ major in the college, and they'll tell you how you should optimize the work.
To Wawa: As much as I love you, why can you never hire the proper amount of people? Either there is a line the size of our tuition, or there are four people standing behind the counter waiting.
To the graduation photographers: Were you twister spinners in your past life?
To the dickass who gave me dick ass disease: Dick. Ass.
To the staff at Cosi: Could you be slower? Really.
To X: D.I.B.H.L.A.C! Yeah, I was there.
To KG: In the history of journalism, you are the best editor ever! P.S. I also want to watch Flowers in the Attic with you.
To the junior class board: Good job not getting Hey Day moved. Now I have even less of a reason for those champagne flutes. Way to prioritize.
To the guy working the grill at 225 over Fling: You can give me your hot dog anytime; that big piece of meat you were flipping really got my juices flowing.
To the senior dating my girlfriend's roommate: It's not the sleepwalking that's weird, it's you.
To the Penn nerd who called the "frat-dogs" out for playing volleyball without shirts on: How does it feel knowing we're the guys who will be fucking your wife when she "goes to the gym?"
To the Chinese nerds who "lift" at Pottruck: If a girl can use the machine after you and not change the weight, you need to go home and kill yourself. Seriously.
To my Ecuadorian friend: Thanks for letting me sublet your apartment this past summer, just thought I should tell you I fucked some fat chick from Blarney's on your bed. without sheets. I win.
To you smug Whartonites: Thanks to a productive summer, I have now jerked it in every one of HH's bathroom stalls. I will be putting that on my resume for Goldman.
To the beautiful British stranger who went out of his way: You really did save my day. I can't believe I didn't ask your name. I can only trust in the gods of EuroPenn to bring you back into my life... hopefully with less clothes on...
To my slutty roommate: I thought the guy with the 4-inch penis had taught you a lesson. But no, oh no, you had to go looking for more... it's Fling, and you hook up with a gay guy. If you think this is recovering your dignity one weekend at a time, we need to enroll you in more ESL courses.
To my Bolivian roommate: I want to thank you for finally cleaning up the three separate steaming piles of shit you left on the bathroom floor and toilet seat at 10 a.m. the Saturday of Fling. Never mind that it took you 48 hours to do it, and you still haven't washed your poopy ass. Evo Morales would be proud.
To Santa Claus: I'm cancelling Christmas, but you're cordially invited to a barbecue with Kenn Kweder in Perelman Quadrangle.
To my "hottest" Economics teacher: You're a full-on Monet - good from far, but far from good.
To that guy who always kicks out the lights on the Locust bridge: You are not badass. You are not funny. You are a drunken asshole who needlessly wastes all of our money and should consider jumping off a bridge instead of vandalizing one.
To Castle: I know Wiffle ball is not really a sport, but wow, you guys really sucked at it. Maybe you should practice or something before you challenge us again.
To Hillary Clinton: Can I put my superdelegate in your butt?
To the guy who had to pour out his $300 bottle of bourbon after getting busted during Spring Fling: That really sucks.
Dear Simba: Please stop trying to get in my pants. I don't want to hear you roar. Love, The Rabbit.
To the baseball house on 40th: We can see all of your parties from our windows. We love the dance moves you bust out when you think no one is watching. We also love those sexy PJ pants. Do your girlfriends know about those? Love, The Watch Tower.
To the prefrosh: Way to spend all of Fling weekend spitting pick up lines at a house full of senior girls. Graduate high school and then call me. Love, Your Future Peer Advisor.
To the Castle: Locks of Love is taking donations. Please shave your chest hair and help out kids with cancer.
To the Dairymaid: No, I am NOT getting back together with you. Please graze in other pastures. Love, Your Newly Lactose Intolerant Ex-Girlfriend.
Dear KA: Getting Kweder still doesn't make you cool. Leave campus already.
To the Hill breakfast guy who makes eggs: How come when I ask for three eggs over-easy, you look at me like I just committed original sin? I would love to chat sometime if I didn't think you were going to literally shoot me whenever I request my eggs.
To the dude in the men's room at LTs who had those ugly chicks doing a line off his dick: Yes, yes, I would like you to put your cock away. It's awkward.
To the Beta who had sex with me while I was blackout: The fetus is on your doorstep. Enjoy.
To the Kappa Sig whose game consists of a hammock, a gay wingman and a moderately-sized penis: I saw the brown stain, joke's on you.
To Phi Delt: You are one pair of chinos away from cool. And one tax bracket away from A's.
To the guy who claimed he was in Pike: Sorry I bailed on you mid-makeout... call me next year and we'll make something happen. P.S. Let me know if you need a date to prom.
To the kid who let one rip during math lecture: The DP may hide you from sight, but it doesn't take away the shame - it probably just adds more.
To Juicy Campus: No one cares.
To the leather jacket-wearing cop: Why should you get to wear leather while the rest of your colleagues over at the precinct wear the standard-issue cotton? You look like you just walked off of the set of Robocock.
To Kermit the Frog in Kappa Sig: Exactly one of us can stand being near you for more than two minutes. Love, The Bank.
To La Fontana: When you take a reservation, the party usually wants to eat at the time they specified. Not two hours later.
To my TAs who are unaware I'm taking their classes pass/fail and actually think I care when you alert me that my average is 60%: YA DUMB.
To the people who fart on the treadmills in Pottruck: The coughing you hear behind you can be interpreted as me attempting not to boot all over the elliptical. You give a new meaning to "Trail of Tears."
To my GEOL103 TA: If our tectonic plates converge, will you split my subduction zone?
To Triangle Diner: COME BACK.
To H.: You crazy shit - she's actually my mother. Please stop calling, leaving notes under the door and sending flowers on mother's day. Sincerely, Chelsea.
To those who went to Transit during Fling: Congrats on reaching the zenith of your existence - I bet slamming people to the ground on the way to the bar, while ashing on Chanel purses felt as good as when you're coke habit finally paid off, and you could fit into your old jeans. The future prospects of the Devil are looking better than yours.
To the porcelain faced, platinum blond salesperson in Douglas: Am I in MANNEQUIN 5: Attack of The Perfume Samplers? You are truly a frightening human being... or doll... I'm still undecided.
To whoever spray painted "BETA IS GAY": You have nice handwriting.
To Beta: When I wrote "BETA IS GAY" I meant gay in the classical sense... as in retarded.
To The Hills: More goes on during 30 minutes in my doctor's waiting room than in one show. But LC's eyebrows have never looked better.
To the gluttonous freshman snob-whore: It would seem impossible, but you've exceeded your brother in sucking at life. I wish your silver spoons were silver forks, and you would both fork yourselves.
To Penn Espionage: Why don't you exist? And if you do... good work.
To our "besties": LEAVE US THE FUCK ALONE. Love, the people you think you are friends with.
To football and women's track: Thanks for sleeping only with each other and containing the spread of syphilis around campus.
To Sigma Kappa: You're nice.
To the guy who swipes my PennCard at Pottruck: Looking at you gets my heart racing. Meet me in the locker room to release some endorphins.
To the guy in my History class who cut his nails during lecture: That was the most vile thing I've ever seen. Did you notice that nobody ever sat next to you again?
To the UA Chair: We all stalk you. Block your profile.
To Stephen Colbert: I called Monica and asked for pointers. Now will you let me intern?
To the thirtysomething musician who plays blue grass at Fume: Make like Tenacious D and fuck me gently.
To the hot guy in my PSCI051 recitation: I'll let you violate my international norms if I can straddle your bandwagon.
To every Penn frat boy: Do not tell me, in inches, approximately how big your penis is. Especially when you're naked and I can see that you're lying.
To every EuroPenn wannabe: Do not tell me, in centimeters, approximately how big your penis is. I know 12.7 centimeters sounds impressive, but I can divide. So no, 5 inches doesn't really do it for me. Also, waxing. Try it sometime.
To the kid who is the doppelganger of Todd from Wedding Crashers: When you creepily gaze at someone from over your shoulder, trying to undress them with your beady black eyes, you should look away when making eye contact. A piercing glare just reminds the person that you're probably into being the S&M gimp.
To my landlord Judy: You may be confused, let me clarify something - coming into our house at 8 a.m. pantomiming knocks and screaming "KNOCK, KNOCK IT'S JUDY!!!" is NOT the same as actually knocking on the door. I'm more scared of you than the guys who sell crack cocaine outside my window.
To Kweder: I saw you sober at ATO - you have duped us all.
To Mr. Ryan: I'm 22, I still use my fake ID and you still take it.
To the Smoke's Smoking Dungeon: I never thought I could secondhand smoke a whole pack.
To J.W.: Can we please have our v-cards back? -Class of 2008
To Phi Delt: U R so fucking hot right now! -Vajayjay
To Vajayjay: You left your thong in my room. It's tacked on the corkboard if you want to pick it up. -Phi Delt
To Bartender Joe: Change your clothes, but besides that, don't ever change.
To Roasti-Toasti: How's jail?
To Febreze: Thank you for four years of cleaning solution, air freshener, laundry detergent, cologne and antiseptic.
To the library security guards who wouldn't let me use my passport because I lost my PennCard: The student behind you just stole a laptop. and headphones. and a rolling chair.
To my parents who keep reminding me that I'm about to end a four-year vacation: Now I understand why the Hernandez brothers did it.
To 1 in 4: 0.25.
To the seat-stealing University official: Thanks for kicking me out of my front row seat at the Colbert Report after I waited around for hours to get there. Just imagine my happiness in seeing you plug your ears in agony during the Roots' screaming guitar riffs. I wish they'd blown out your ear drums, you ass.
