Dear Calculus Professor,

Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate the fact that you're a very eccentric and artistic person. In fact, I even kind of enjoy it when you go off on wild tangents during lectures even though the rest of the class is whispering things like "she's totally f-in batshit!" and "can I still transfer out?".

However, I most certainly do not appreciate the too-tight khaki pants and resultant camel toe that you have been sporting for the past two days. Seriously, it's the worst case I have ever seen. How do you walk up the four flights of stairs to our classroom without getting cut in half? Do you take the elevator? Did someone steal all your other pants? This is what I pondered during our 50 minutes together yesterday, instead of calculus. And today, when you walked in wearing the EXACT SAME THING, I was beside myself.

Did you seriously sleep in that?!?!


Ouch-ouch, ouch,

P.S. I'm also all set on the V.P.L. Thanks.
dear december/january,

you were so much fun.
so much fun, in fact, that i am taking it upon myself to implement a new policy for february:


you taught me that i don't need to be drinking both days of every weekend... and i certainly don't need to go cruisin' for the p every time i go to a party. i've officially renamed sunday "hangoverday" and i've been shoved headfirst into a friend's car-- before midnight-- as protection against the wrath of an angry 250lb woman . i felt almost nothing after 5 shots of soco on saturday, which would have had me throwing up a month ago, and i sent more than 100 texts in one night telling captain asshole (anyone remember him??) that me and my friend wanted to have a threesome with him.

also i want to have a liver when i turn nineteen.

thus, Celisoberuary is born.

no booze, no boys.
chicks before dicks.
beer is queer.
"sex can wait, masturbate!"

february starts on sunday, right?,