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6 Reasons to be Thankful You Don’t Go To BU

Despite the emerging smell of roast turkey, the cornucopias and enough pumpkin spice to KO a whole sorority, chances are you’re having trouble counting your blessings. Winter is breathing down your neck, your semester weight loss goals have gone from unlikely to comical… and instead of finding comfort in friends, you’re banished to home for another chance to help Aunt Esther post her new cat pics on Facebook. 

But it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving if we didn’t grit our teeth and storm through the ocean of first world problems that hound us. At the end of the day, Eagles always have a few things to be thankful for — we don’t have to crawl through the soulless, sexless, thankless underbelly of civilization just to earn a few shreds of paper and dignity.  In other words, at least we don’t go to BU.

6.) Boston Rep:
The very name Boston College commands respect throughout Beantown. Wear BC gear, and suddenly the town’s your oyster. Cambridge passersby stop and stare, Faneuil hall erupts into applause and orgasmic shrieks at your passing, and on a sunny day, the seals will pop right out of Back Bay for a high-five.

At BU, you’re lucky if you can sprint through the streets without all the resulting eggs and projectile vomit ruining your outfit.  Speaking of which…

5.) The BC Style:
For a crash course in pure chic, you can’t beat the BC education. Just look at all those classmates, decked out in their finest “too rich for the yacht club” Sperries and “dear God why do I keep wearing thin coats in this weather” North Face jackets. Even if you need to sneak in a day of sweatpants, just blend in with a group heading to Maloney elevator; high class = high camouflage.

Remember to pity for the BU labor-student, draped in a sackcloth bag with holes punched in the sides. Not even the snow wants to touch them.

4.) Jesuit Determination:
You know the stress headache you get whenever you think about competing with an army of overachieving high-functioning CSOM cash warriors? The terror in your gut when you confront someone batshit crazy enough to stick with Pre-med after freshman year? Embrace it!  The relentless pressure to avoid shaming yourself is a powerful tool. BC has given you the tools to handle the endless fear, jealousy and self-loathing that will probably follow you your entire working life. Push it down deep, and never look back. Sweet jump-roping Christ, don’t look back.

3.) C’mon. Their name is B.U.:
Some words just carry a stink about them — you know that if you met them in person, you’d jump back and gag. Skunk. Toxin.  Salad-at-Late Night. But you’d never think anyone would be oblivious enough to take the concept of a stinky name and title a school after it.

B.U.  Just try saying it without your nose crinkling in disgust.  It is one word away from P.U.  That name smells like a gym sock stuffed with Hitler’s earwax. Every syllable makes me want to stitch my nostrils shut and radio for a Febreeze-scented carpet bombing. BC has its problems, but at least saying it won’t make you choke on your cheesesteak. It really does suck to B U.

2.) Mascot Superiority:
Baldwin the Bald Goddamn Eagle. Look at him, spreading his wings across the vast green expanse of alumni field. Goggle openmouthed as his razor talons eviscerate the puny mozz sticks who dare challenge him. Cover your arousal as his raptor’s eye sinks yet another perfect beer pong shot. He is the Alpha of the Skies, Champion of the Mods, Guardian of the Work-social life balance. Domino’s is his natural prey, and courage his morning aftershave. He is Baldwin, and outsiders shall pay his tribute or suffer the consequences.

BU has a terrier. We don’t know its name (probably Terry). Want to know what happens when you leave a terrier in a cage with a bald eagle? Just picture Whitechapel if Jack the Ripper had a thing for puppies instead of prostitutes.

1.) Respect of Relatives:
For BU students, the faint disappointment of their family hits the minute they walk in for the holidays. At BC, that moment is delayed until someone asks what you’re doing after graduation. Then you’re in the same depressing boat as everyone else in your sorry demographic. Hmmm. Guess we’re not so different after all.

Give thanks, enjoy the break, and remember two things. One:  Hard cider and Fireball combine for an excellent way to tune out your racist great-uncle. Two: you didn’t hear that from us.  

 

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