While in Miami last month, I bumped into Michael Bay ’86 at Nobu and chatted with him about the ungrateful shit-stain-like students of Wesleyan University. After Bay cut a check for $300,000.00 (that’s a lot of zeroes), some slouching nerd and/or virgin asked the esteemed director if he had Megan Fox’s phone number, and another archetypal assfuck asked how much money he has. I could go on about other ungrateful questions my new best friend and soon-to-be roommate fielded, but I have a more important issue to discuss: Wesleyan students’ being ungrateful of “college.”
Foreigners believe that college in the U.S. is a four-year fiesta and, at many schools, it actually is. But here in Middletown, Conn., Wesleyan more closely resembles a penitentiary than it does a university. No, I’m not talking about the Center for the Arts; I’m talking about you. Nobody seems to acknowledge or appreciate that we’re at college, an academic institution where you can get extensions, sleep until 3 p.m. or drink eight nights per week. Nobody celebrates life and has a smile plastered on HIS or HER face (a ze is like a unicorn—it doesn’t exist), and for that reason I flee my cell on Fountain Avenue for places like New York, Boston, Syracuse, Central Pennsylvania and Punta Del Este. But with gas prices continuing to rise and my growing more conscious of my carbon footprint, I ask why Morose University can’t be Middletown’s oasis of fun.
The girls are cute (enough) and the guys aren’t impotent; what’s the fucking problem? Where’s the party? Every Wednesday night since December, people have been packing my house, drinking all of my beer, puking in my bathroom and leaving without cleaning after themselves or saying “thank you.” Do you hear me crying about it? No! Because we go to college and my housemates and I do our part to make this place seem like a real, four-year (not community) college for you ungrateful losers.
You don’t see the DEA breaking down the doors of Eclectic, the ATF invading my house or the Surgeon General ripping a cigarette out of Sandy from Weshop’s mouth while she puffs away outside and finds serenity from swiping your ID cards. It’s fucking college. Turn off the TV and get up, get out and try to get in somebody. Don’t binge drink alone in your dorm rooms, apartments or woodframes, worrying if some drunk, bored asshole is going to steal your bike seat, lawn furniture or side-view mirror. Get off your haunches and make something happen, throw a party. If there was more fun shit to do, that drunk and destructive asshole wouldn’t be so bored.
If you, the student body and specifically the senior class, can’t sack up and salvage the year and help some freshmen break their hymens, the administration should consider accepting some cooler fucking people.
And, lastly, I’d like the Wespeak prize in singles.
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