I’m On The Dean’s List, Little Does He Know He’s On Mine Too
I’m going to get that son of a bitch.
I’m going to get that son of a bitch.
What a quarter this has been. From late nights ripping my hair out behind a bookshelf in Core, to late nights ripping my hair out in the corner of the quiet section in Mudd, I truly feel like I’ve reached the limit of what I’m going to accomplish at Northwestern. This has all brought me to one conclusion: I could die and nothing on this campus would change. If I got rolled over by a steam roller, I’d just be
I’m a little concerned – how does Santa Claus get into the dorms if they don’t have chimneys?