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What to Eat at the Stu Based on How Much You Hate Yourself

Whether you like it or not, the heinous excuse for food they serve up at the Stu is your reality. With all the equally awful options of what to eat, you may have a hard time deciding. Instead of spending 15 minutes contemplating which cuisine to indulge in, use this guide, based on your spiraling self esteem, to decide for you!  

If You’re A Real Narcissist: The Demon Breakfast
If you’re the kind of person who can look in the mirror while masturbating, or honestly look in the mirror at all without being instantly repulsed, go right ahead and let everyone know by purchasing the Demon Breakfast at Scramble. This is the big kahuna of meals at the Stu. Show everyone that you’re super proud of that dad-bod you’ve been nursing since the beginning of fall quarter, and don’t think twice about the massive amounts of food you’re shoving down your throat. The huge shit you’ll take 20 minutes later will be big enough to fit in Father Egan’s stupidly huge hands, but your shit will never be bigger than your ego.

If You Don’t Really Care About Anything, Including What Goes Inside of You: Stu-shi and a Bagel
At this point in the quarter, you’ve probably put a lot of things in your mouth, some more desirable than others. You definitely don’t care about what goes in your body, but in like, a cool way. You don’t hate yourself enough to eat a salad and deprive yourself from the joys of eating actual food, but you don’t really respect the “temple” that people say your body is. Inhaling a pack of Stu-shi could be satisfying, but so could a subpar, barely toasted bagel from Brownstones. Honestly, you might as well go for both because who knows when your next meal will come around.

If You Hate Yourself But Pretend Not To: The Salad Bar
If you want people to think you respect yourself when everyone knows that you just binge-ate a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos in your closet, the salad bar is where you’re headed. Making it there requires some sort of horse blinders to get you past the monstrosities they call food at Ranch. Don’t even think about stepping in line at the deli. How could you even consider putting that many carbs in your mouth? Go straight for the spinach, and don’t even add any of the things that make salad edible, like ranch dressing or croutons. Everyone knows you’re shrouding your self-hatred in stupid, limp lettuce, anyway.

If You’ve Accepted Full Self-Loathing: Anything from Ranch
Chances are you fit in this category, because let’s be real, we’re all full of shit on the inside. The only Stu food fitting enough for a bottom-of-the-barrel person is the deep-fried baskets of regret they serve up at Ranch. You might as well get “chicken bacon ranch sandwich with a side of mozzarella sticks, please,” tattooed on your back next to those Mumford and Sons lyrics. Take your tray of garbage and march yourself straight to the bathroom, because by the time you shovel that into your face hole, your colon is going to be the only thing more in shambles than your self-esteem.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter how much you hate yourself, because every meal from the Stu ends the same way: with a painful trip to the porcelain throne.

If binge drinking is a huge problem, why sell it in bulk, cheap as hell?

 

 
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