The 5 stages of living off-campus grief



Ah, senior year. We’re nearing adulthood now. The fresh promise of the GCB awaits us, rendering the years of sweating it out at an AEPi frat party almost obsolete. It’s a new era of sophistication, responsibility, monogamous hookups, and wine and cheese dinner parties!

And we get to do it all off-campus. Right next to the favorite haunts of the John St. masturbator.

Underclassmen, take note: living off-campus is not all that it seems. Sure, we get living rooms–full of shitty furniture that we found off of Craigslist. Seriously, those bastards in Keeney have nicer lounges than we do. Wine and cheese dinner parties aren’t as fun when you’ve spent your entire month’s allowance on manchego cheese.

Actually, that was entirely worth it. If I could spend all my money on the hard cheeses, I totally would.

And monogamous hookups? A recipe for declining libido.

The original John St. Masturbator

The Original John St. Masturbator

Also, I thought having a masturbator roaming your block would be entertaining. Like free pay-per-view porn. But once he started wanking outside my neighbor’s homes, I got… well, sort of sad. He seems so pathetic, with his long black hair and questionable dress choices. A hoodie and no pants? In September?  Who are you, Miley Cyrus?!

I went through an off-campus crisis. It went something like this:

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