Nott N. Annagramm
Staffwriter
Fucking with Farnam Jahanian, 2029
Bio
I am a collective hallucination
Fun Fact
I was born from a dream Farnam had after eating too much at Schatz
Previous Work
Stop Calling Your Parents So Late At Night, You Whiny Little Bitch
It’s the middle of the night and you feel like shit. Maybe it’s 1 a.m., and you just realized there was something due at midnight. Maybe you’re being kept awake by your fifth cold in three weeks. Maybe it just hit that you actually kinda sorta miss home a little. Whatever the circumstance, the sun has set and you feel like the steaming hot pile of garbage outside Donner. Naturally, the best solution is to call your parents, right? WRONG. And if you thought that for even a moment, then the only reason you should be anywhere near CMU is if you’re in the Infant Cognition Lab.
First of all, your family obviously does not want to talk to you. They’ve had to deal with your bitching for 18 years, and they don’t want you interrupting their beauty sleep to bitch a little more. Why else would they pay an exorbitant amount of money to send you to a university that isn’t even in the top 19?
Next, you know you have homework to do. I would apologize for reminding you of this during your leisurely perusal of ReadMe, but the sweet payout I’m getting from my TAs for saying that is way better than “manners.” Anyways, PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN AND DO YOUR DAMN WORK. (But don’t put down ReadMe, it’s obviously more important.)
Lastly and most importantly, your roommate is sick and tired of you crying into your phone when they have an 8 AM class tomorrow morning. Their life already sucks enough at CMU; you don’t have to make it worse by reminding them about how Ciao Bella has nothing on their grandma’s crockpot meatballs and spaghetti. If karma has anything to say about it, they’ll be keeping you up tomorrow night by telling their grandma they miss her for the 47th time on a single call.
You may be asking yourself, “If I can’t call my parents when I’m depressed, what should I do?” The answer is actually quite simple: read more ReadMe! There are plenty of sad, unread copies of prior issues strewn about campus that need much more love and attention than you do. The paper is literally asking you to read it; how could you possibly refuse? But if this article works too well and you aren’t able to find a single copy of 4.2, don’t you dare sob about it to your parents, you whiny little bitch.
Students Rush to Graduate as End of World Looms
DECEMBER 20, 2012 - While CMU students have always tried to graduate in less than 8 semesters, only the quickly approaching demise of all life on Earth could incentivize even the most burnt out underachievers to get their degree before spring. Despite astronomers’ insistence that Sagittarius A* is too far away to cause any gravitational disruptions, professors are still drowning in capstones about how said black hole affects the futures of every single major. “Grading is somehow more repetitive than usual,” states one anonymous TA. “There’s usually some variety, but when we’re all gonna die tomorrow, that’s the only thing those twerps can think about. This is an econ class; we shouldn’t give a shit about planetary alignment!”
However, academic anxiety is not the only emotion the apocalypse seems to inspire in Tartans. Several students were found crowded around Gates sobbing into each other’s arms because they will all die virgins. After an enterprising student asked them why they couldn’t just have sex with each other, they all immediately stopped crying and went back to their dorms.
In other news, the drama students have formed a cult celebrating the apocalypse, but absolutely nothing has changed about the way they act. Their only new actions have been to paint “THE END IS NIGH” on the Fence in the most garish colors they could find and sing songs from the second act of “Into The Woods” instead of the first.
As all psych majors should know by now, the final stage of grief is acceptance, so the students soldier on through their courses despite the apocalypse. Some even find their imminent doom reassuring, since they won’t have to go job hunting afterward. However, the most common sentiment seems to be apathy, because “at least it’s not 122.”