Underclassmen Like to Complain, Too: A Housing Report
While seniors are busy finishing their theses, everyone else has their mind on something that is actually important, or at least something that I care about: housing. Some people desperately try to assemble the perfect group, avoiding that guy. Others come to the sad realization that they are that guy. But beyond finding a group and entering the lottery, the big question is, Where will I live? Here are my problems with some sophomore housing:
Alpa Delt: I guess I'm just not the frat guy type.
The Bayit: Not funny enough.
The Butts: They remind me of that serial killer's house in Silence of the Lambs. Even with summer courses there's no way I'll be able to tailor a proper skin suit by September.
Eclectic: Not hip enough. But I do look pretty good in girls' pants, if I do say so myself.
Outhouse: Sounds a little gay.
WestCo: Personally, I'm an EastCo man. Don't think I've forgotten about what you guys did to Biggie.
X House: Don't get me wrong, I'd love to be able to live here, but the bottom line is I can't, for a number of reasons. First and foremost, I can't dance. Secondly, my father is “The Man.” While we don't always see eye to eye, he is footing my tuition, so I can't really contest that he's holding me down.
This article was posted in the print edition as part of the Wesleyan Argus Ampersand. It is satire and should not be construed as fact.
Comment on this story