These freshmen just come to their Quaker Day, see a mirage of colors, grab the first bandana they see, and get straight to the felonies.
Next thing you know, you're transferring out of Wharton and into the School of Working Makeshift Iron Blast Furnaces on the College Green.
For months we’ve been getting complaints that our ingredients aren’t clean. How can anything be cleaner than meat that was literally just washed in water?
You try to speak. I silence you with a forceful yet caring neigh. You gaze into my eyes, stunned at my display of horsey power. I lean in and whisper into your ear the wise words of 90’s R&B icon Ginuwine: Ride this pony.
Oh, what’s my major? I’m really glad you asked, it’s LET’S CUT THE FUCKING BULLSHIT AND SMOKE SOME CRACK-COCAINE.