Ugh, I don’t even know what to write for this lil contest you guys are having. I want the money though, baaaad. I should just paste some “30 Rock” quotes or some tweets from Cher (her feed is a fucking goldmine, filled with just the finest examples of inconceivable
grammatical errors, incomprehensible punctuation, absurd spelling, you get it). That would be so much funnier than anything any idiot at GW can come up with, about how the SA is irrelevant (snooze fest) or how tourists need to learn to stand on the right side of
the escalator (never gets old!) or how GW girls like Starbucks and jeggings or whatever (ha ha ha! keep writing these things everybody, they’re great!) or the Vern or blah blah whatever.
J Street food sucks, Columbian College advising sucks, Hugo Scheckter sucks, yadda yadda yadda, we get it. Half the shit you all complain about, man. I’m telling you. Complain about something that matters for once. Disgusting mustaches, for example. Only Ron Swanson, John Bolton, and my uncle are allowed to have mustaches. NO EXCEPTIONS.
There are lots of pretty great things about your lives, you ungrateful shits. You probably have your own fucking bathrooms in your GW dorm rooms, unlike kids in the third world/at state schools. Those are basically the same though, aren’t they, state schools and The Third World? Huge crowds of miserable people, living in close quarters with 10 or 15 people to a room. We should, though, give some of the food at these all-you-can-eat state-school buffets to The Third World. See, while you all complain about loud construction outside your window in the morning (the horror!) and how there’s no student space (uh, study in your lavish dorms maybe), I’m solving world hunger. Take a page out of my book here and put a cork in it.
Yeah, your lives are pretty good. You have like, food and medicine. Blankets for when you get old, air conditioning when you’re hot. Hulu for when you’re bored. Maybe you should try, oh, I don’t know, GETTING CHASED AROUND BY TIGERS when you’re bored. Maybe you’ll stop complaining. Or maybe you won’t because it’s all we know how to do. It’s a generational thing, I guess. It’s so Gen-Y or whatever we are.
Look at me, I’m complaining about you all complaining. And inevitably some moron with no sense of humor will comment and complain about how I’m complaining about you all complaining. And then someone else will reply to that comment with a complaint about how he’s complaining about me complaining about you complaining, and THEN with any luck we’ll all explode and the world will end and it’ll all be over, only a swirling cloud of dust and smoke left behind. Where once there was a great planet, nothingness. And the Ancient Aliens will tsk tsk at us from the skies for taking all the great things they gave us — pyramids and airplanes and Stonehenge — and using them to complain about things on blogs. That day is not far off.
So let’s just stop the complaining. The world will be a better place, we’ll all stop the murders and start the lulz. Please, y’all.
(Sorry for the abrupt ending. This thing is due like RIGHT NOW and I forgot about it till Five Minutes Before RIGHT NOW. Thank you in advance for the cash moneys, GW Patriot.)