Look, we all get it. College rivalries are great. We are playing you in football on Saturday, and for some reason your pea sized intellects have deduced that this warrants you driving all the way across the bay to ruin the sleep of hundreds of graduate students, their spouses, and their children multiple times in the middle of a school/work week with your 8th grade trumpets.
Congratulations, we all know you play the trumpet, and that you can drive quickly in and out of our parking lot. You’ve come a long way, I’m sure.
However, if you had paused and thought it out (a process of which I am seriously doubting your capability), you would have realized that you decided to used your trumpets in GRADUATE HOUSING. Which means, of all the students on campus that you chose to rudely awaken over and over in the middle of the night, ABOUT HALF OF THESE PEOPLE WENT TO BERKLEY FOR UNDERGRAD. Next time, I recommend you read a campus map. The numbers and letters all come together to point you in a crystal clear direction to the undergrad housing, where the little 18 year-olds are no doubt still up until 4:00 am, and would be delighted to kick your sorry behinds.
In the meantime, I hope you’ve been caught by campus police, that you’ve been fined, that your punishment also consists of cleaning my bathroom with your toothbrush, and that next time you’ll actually, you know… read a map.
Your truly,
Disgruntled sleepless cranky face girl
PS I hope we beat you on Saturday.
2 comments:
can we coin the phrase "that's so cal?"
ps- you always have the most curiosity pique-ing titles.
I really enjoyed this post. I really like you.
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