You are all going to hell.

Not Hell hell, but college hell. Here at Syracuse, it’s the equivalent of being a starter on the present football team or living on South Campus.

And no, not everyone is going, just these people:

Everyone using the handicap button to get into Schine. You are not just hell-bound, you are disgustingly lazy. ‘Oh, this door, so moderately heavy … I can’t waste precious energy pulling on it, or I might overheat inside this luxurious coat. I might as well use what calories I can spare to push this button.’ Can you imagine being a handicapped person and seeing some bipedal jerkoff using your button? You have to earn that button. You don’t park in handicap spaces because you’re too slothish to walk, do you? Next time you’re at the doors, pull on the handle, breathe out as you exert and mentally celebrate your ability to walk through unaided. If you still really can’t do it, call eight or nine of your dance team partners; you should be able to manage together. Then you can celebrate with Dunkaccinos!

But sadly, those jokers are not the laziest people on campus. That honor, along with a place in college hell, goes to you, Girl Who Uses the Elevator in Haven to go to the Second Floor. I would assume that perhaps your takeout box is too heavy to carry up the stairs, but we both know the only things in there are a hollowed-out bagel and some vegan pumpkin pie. That brings us to our next offenders.

Vegans. You know why? Because I just don’t like you. No, actually, I’m just entirely jealous of your preferential treatment in the dining halls. There’s always a sparkling glass case in there with food just for you. But why isn’t there one for me? Where is the case labeled, ‘Food for guys who really love tacos?’ I’ll come clean. It’s this bitterness that often results in ‘someone’ leaving a slab of sandwich meat on top of your soy brownies.

Lastly, I condemn a group that causes me a major inconvenience: girls who do not dress like every other girl. Seriously, the 14 of you that are holding out are really messing me up. Quit kidding yourselves: inevitably, you too will give into the pressure and don the Northface, Uggs, stretch pants and bug-eye glasses. And on that day, I can finally stop trying to remember the individual names of every female on campus and simply refer to you collectively as ‘Girl.’

Actually, there is room for one more category. Sorry misogynists, but your day has come, because – oh no! Hey, get your hands off me! Back off! No, I can’t play quarterback! What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?

Published on January 31, 2006 at 12:00 pm