HAMILTON, NY — No matter how many times I pull down to refresh the weather app, the temperature values won’t go past 38°F. Gazing out my third-story window wondering when my husband will come home from war, I can’t help but think: why me? Why me, God? Why punish me so? It’s not April (or May – who knows when the fuck these things are printed), it’s January 108th. What April showers? How can we have May flowers when there is literally no living foliage anywhere on campus? Not a single plant is doing any photosynthesis; I don’t remember the last time I saw the sun. I forget what it feels like to be warm (and loved; seasonal depression is turning into a year-long party). Naturally, I went out to speak with some fellow students and ask for their thoughts on the weather here at Colgate.
“God damn, I walked outside one morning, and I swear it felt like my nipples could cut glass,” says first year, Cravin Moorehead. Then I spotted captain of the squash team, Lou Skunt, on the ground rubbing his hips. “Yeah, I just slipped on the black ice and totally ate ass.”
It hasn’t just been cold here up on the hill, it’s been windy. Windy as fuck. I was strutting my way across the academic quad to class when suddenly I’m lifted up by the gusts of fucking Thor and wooshed all around, until finally being heaved cock-first back onto the pavement.
“Incredible,” I said as I picked myself up and adjusted my now Flat Stanley genitals in my jeans. “I haven’t been blown like that since that first time I got into Phi Delt,” exclaims one dirty-rushing freshman. The freezing temperatures have also been taking a toll on wardrobes too. Canada Gooses, black yoga pants, and fresh Timbs as far as the eye can see. Brad and Chad don their full Patagucci outfits and flex on us peasants.
As the year winds down, Mother Nature takes no breaks when delivering her cold, hard vengeance on us.
The Monthly Rag 
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