My name is Chad and I’m a whore. I am also a feminist. But Mr. Preacher: being a feminist is not what makes me a whore—I promise.
Wow. I never thought this day would come. After hearing the news two years ago about a freshman who managed to lose his big toe during the pool party, I always thought I'd be next. After all, I had already lost two Penn Cards, my pants, and at least a few brain cells during NSO.
Greetings, fellow members of Free & For Sale. I presume many of you are crossing the ol' Formal Reasoning and Analysis requirement off your respective Academic Planning Worksheets this fall. Perhaps the specter of MATH 103 or MATH 104 looms heavy on the horizon. If this indeed be the case, then have I got an offer for you!
Once I had this crazy idea, I couldn’t believe that no one had thought of it before.
Take this quiz to stay ahead of the curve and find out if your coworkers think you’re a real dick.
First of all, how dare you. I just don't get how you could say such a rude thing to a guy wearing such cool socks. I'm not saying that by having impeccable style I should be impervious to criticism, but, ya know, respect the fibers on my feet. Also, haven’t you noticed my eccentric short-sleeved button up? C’mon, I’m not on a beach sipping margs, why am I wearing this sweet Hawaiian shirt! That’s a pretty dope personality trait if I do say so myself.
"Yes, she loves Obama, but does that mean a pair of socially liberal, fiscally conservative pink shorts from J. Crew can’t turn her on?"
Uncover those smoke detectors!
"I politely coughed, to alert the baristas to my impatience, and they didn’t even look up. It pierced me to my core."
You know, I’ve tried to be sympathetic. I really have.