the radio just before you got out of the car (and that probably should have been the first sign, getting rickroll'd just before one of the most important moments in your life). how dare they cause you to fall in love with the largest architectural library in America, with their cobblestones and their fancy campus cafe and that one office with the giant Star Trek poster plastered along the wall and their Klingon extra curricular activity club. remember the fliers for a party that had various attention grabbers such as, "MEET JAMES FRANCO!* *James Franco appearance not guaranteed. He probably doesn't even like us." or, "LIKE JIMMY FALLON, BUT WITH JOKES." or, "THE MOST FUN YOU'LL HAVE SINCE TAKING A BATH WITH POWER RANGER ACTION FIGURES." oh, you'd show them good, with their snobby swim test to make sure you could swim the Manhattan in case of the entire island catching on fire, their required two years of physical activity ranging from soccer to horseback riding to badminton, their whole 'lol look Obama went here and gives us assloads of money'. so what if Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Jake and Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Franco and Jonathan Taylor Thomas and Franklin D. Roosevelt and the members of Vampire Weekend (your favorite band, seriously, Ezra Koenig, /god/) all attended and are, incidentally, all people you want to bang until King Arthur was brought back from the dead just to pull you out like Excalibur? Columbia's not THAT amazing. or anything.
you shouldn't write a book just for the sake of revenge, though. make it honest. consider the idea of writing one of those true-life comedy books, being the funny-girl with the mother whose idea of love is putting the cake on the highest shelf and a father who performs exorcisms with a straight face (though if you did that, it'd only be half true--yep. go on, guess.), and wind up having everyone wonder if you're a lesbian. funny girls are lesbians. funny, sarcastic girls are GRUMPY lesbians, according to the douchebag in the beanie that greeted you in the hall every day by shouting, "MORNIN', GRUMPSTER." it was cute, once, but who will be the grumpy one when one of you has a million dollar book deal and the other tests Fancy Feast for authentic flavoring?
but, uh, don't write a book for revenge.
it wouldn't be so bad to just. write almost exclusively about your life experiences, right? at the very least, they're comical. remember that time when you brought a guy
you shouldn't write a book just for the sake of revenge, though. make it honest. consider the idea of writing one of those true-life comedy books, being the funny-girl with the mother whose idea of love is putting the cake on the highest shelf and a father who performs exorcisms with a straight face (though if you did that, it'd only be half true--yep. go on, guess.), and wind up having everyone wonder if you're a lesbian. funny girls are lesbians. funny, sarcastic girls are GRUMPY lesbians, according to the douchebag in the beanie that greeted you in the hall every day by shouting, "MORNIN', GRUMPSTER." it was cute, once, but who will be the grumpy one when one of you has a million dollar book deal and the other tests Fancy Feast for authentic flavoring?
but, uh, don't write a book for revenge.
it wouldn't be so bad to just. write almost exclusively about your life experiences, right? at the very least, they're comical. remember that time when you brought a guy
