1. Now I have 40 more Facebook friends. Can some1 say #popular?
2. Sleep
3. When I speak to people, there can be a natural pause in the conversation and I don’t have to worry that the other person will think I’m weird or awkward
4. Today my alarm went off and I was like oh I should get up and shower and then I was like nah and slept for another 25 minutes
Try not to think of everybody and their pledge mom hooking up on these.
Listen up. If you’re over 18 and your mommy still does your laundry, you’ve probably realized by now that you’re going to be SOL in the big scary world. Hey, it’s okay – at some point in your life, Momma stopped brushing your teeth, washing your hair, wiping your ass, and all the other things that kept you fresh-smelling and somewhat socially acceptable.[1] You’re gonna learn to do laundry on your own, too, because the ability to remove Svedka and BO from your clothes is a basic function of self-sufficiency and personal hygiene.
So you’ve taken the first step and decided you don’t want to grow up to be Buster Bluth. But if you ask your friends how to do laundry, they WILL remember for the next four years[2] and they will tell the hotties at da club and the hotties at da club will think you’re a pampered dumbfuck (you might be) and YOU WILL NEVER GET LAID. So here’s your (mostly) shame-free guide to being the independent fucking human you are expected to be in higher education.
Before you start, plan accordingly.
I’d give him the head of state.
I’m no political scientist. I have never peered over the edge of the fiscal cliff; my knowledge of U.S. foreign policy in Afghanistan is hazier than the only night I’ve ever been to the Deuce; and I picture the inner workings of the White House as strikingly similar to the Department of Mysteries in Harry Potter.
I am, however, a sucker for cool people doing cool shit. So SUCK IT, political ideologues – this election day, I’m gonna vote for Obama because he is both a PILF and the epitome of badass. Never mind that I believe in his straightforward adherence to old-fashioned democratic ideals – as in, equality in everything from universal health care and marriage to freedom of choice – or his defense of national parks, or the respect he commands internationally. That shit pales in comparison to his killer dirt-off-your-shoulder. The Obamas, ESPECIALLY Barack, are rad. Just like, super cool. Honestly, even if Obama was all, “Let’s just put Sasha and Malia and the dog in charge while I go surfing in Honolulu and smoke some weed,” I’d vote for him anyway. A cool president is worth a million jobs in the manufacturing sector.
You know what else is worth a million jobs in the manufacturing sector? Amateur poetry. And everyone knows that the best form of amateur poetry comes in snack-size haikus – traditional short-form Japanese poems that follow a 5-7-5 syllabic pattern. So without further ado, I present an artistic homage to my favorite prez’ campaign in a manner that’s about as political as a toy poodle.
On Michelle’s super-toned arms
Graceful, burnished, buff
Those arms could lift our nation.
Can I vote for them?
On Barack’s Rad Music Taste
Let’s contrast your tunes
– Kanye, Bruce, Aretha – Mitt’s:
Toby Fucking Keith.
On the fact that he has a puppy named in accordance with said music taste:
You’re the First Dog, the
Second Bo, the third chillest
White House resident.
On Weapons of Choice
In a real battle,
Your horses and bayonets
Would smash Mitt’s Big Bird.
On the book he wrote/dedicated to his daughters WHILE BEING A PRESIDENT
You wrote a FUCKING
KID’S BOOK about national
Heroes. Marriage me, plz.
Now that you’ve learned a little more about America’s favorite chiller firsthand – and gotten a little lesson in poetic brilliance along the way – I challenge you to come up with a haiku of your own about Mr. Barack! Challenge yourself and make it politically relevant. Better yet, make it dope.
Rock out with ur barack out,
Gwyneth
Sherman Ave 