Dean Sniegowski sighs, “Another cross cultural analysis course wasted on crosswords.”

The mice had found the cheese, classic. The moths were swarming my intermittently functional fridge light. A new set of morels had begun to sprout from a set of button mushrooms I had previously purchased at Trader Joe’s.

The coffee cake beckons to me. “Please Justine. I know you disavow coffee cake for illegitimate reasons of ‘I have no coffee in me, I’m all sugar, and you’d rather have your black coffee and occasional cortado burn a hole in your stomach,’ but please Justine, I’m only $3. I’m rose glazed. Wouldn’t you like to know what a rose tastes like?”

You’ll imagine my profound disorientation when I couldn’t find the “ethnic section” complete with tostadas, instant madras curry, white people trying to make TikTok cucumber salad, and of course, my Lee Kum Kee Sauce Chili Garlic - 8 oz.

It’s not in Philadelphia that I will write my magnum opus or cure my own common cold, but in a place unknown to man.

The States are most United in their shared touch starved-ness: the source of all health woes.

Don’t mince words, butcher them.

Now, if I die in combat – as I drive my digital billboard truck – there is no way that anyone at Penn or Liz Magill (we’re both Type O) will receive my bleeding heart, my “BRN” eyes, or my fat ass.

I tend to assume the worst in women and I tend to be right. She’s “depressed?” Yeah, that’s code word for disinterested. She has other friends. Yeah, more like men. She’s 'gay'? Yeah, more happy without you.

The brothers, sisters, and siblings sought to address the low BMIs and high protein powder intakes of their members. You can guess which problem each house is afflicted with.

What you never hear these medicated girls say is, “It’s time to eat a little Something Something!”

Freshmen of the future, I’m coming for you.

Oh Herr Engels, Herr Marx, Chairman, Uncle Ho. I thank thee for my great fortuna. Margaret from Ohio does indeed support labor. 

Each time I see the oh so not recognizable Amalfi Coast, a discreet half image of Big Ben, or the completely unfamiliar Sydney Opera House, my mind fills with textbook figures of gouty white men in uniforms stepping out of armed ships and [ACTION REQUIRED] emails. 

The people manning the booths were completely unfashionable and some clubs – see MERT – even prided themselves on NOT being drinking clubs.

Turns out they were a group order of fakes in their own right. 

He’s just a man to me. I always wondered why I looked Wasian despite having a white dad. Well now I know, this fool failed the test.

Wax may be a public pariah but this part of her identity remains pubic. 

I used to go to class and the stupid whores with Dior bags would scrunch their nose jobs and say, “It smells like greasy meat and gasoline in here.” Well girls, it didn’t just smell like it, you were smelling it!

Her children are homeschooled so that they don’t deprive other students a spot at Germantown Friends. Her husband teaches them, because he’s her bitch. She killed her dad to smash the patriarchy.