It’s that time of year again. The sun is out, fucking birds are everywhere, fracking becomes a thing we care about, and people crowd every bit of available space because, “it’s so nice out.” Ugh, spring’s the worst.
This is why spring sucks.
People try now.
Just because it’s nice out, people are desperate to put on a sundress, fix their face (make-up), and throw on a pair of cute sandals. All of which gives their mom a reason to love them more and not question their sexuality. In the meantime the gargoyles (my people) are limited to lurking in the shadows because wearing flannel, socks n’crocs, and jeans, basically looking like you straight-up rolled out of a ditch, is frowned upon in the spring.
Why? Why is everyone there. Get out. Go compost your hacky sacks and hammocks you dirty, wannabe hippies. Where do you think we are, Boulder? And stop showing off your spring-onset “skills.” All of the sudden, everyone’s an expert hula-hooper, tanner, frisbee-er, dog-petter/watcher, rope jumper, and the list goes on.
There is nothing more stressful than having to maneuver your way through a game of adult tag, where the risk of being mistaken for a player is abnormally high. If you get tagged, you have no other option than to join the game. You can’t just back out. You’re in, now. It’s do or die.
So do me a solid, quad dwellers, and vacate the premises so I can walk to my dorm without having a panic attack, or getting sued for being too zealous, again.
Everyone is suddenly an “athlete.”
FYI, standing in a circle while tossing a ball between 14 people is not how you play baseball. Using a four-year old’s bowling technique as your reference for throwing a football is not how you sport. Christ on a bike! You go to DePaul. You’re NOT athletic. The only people you’re benefitting are those who park it in front of a window and laugh at you. Pick up the ball, pull your ukulele out of your bag (we all know it’s in there), form a bongo circle, and pass that blunt.
Just save yourself the embarrassment of reliving your fourth grade recess experience.
Ugh. The families of Lincoln Park. They think that it’s okay to come out and picnic with their toddlers on a piece of grass where 21 year olds go to watch each other tightrope walk rather than create a LinkedIn page. No college student, regardless of whether they know what money is and how to properly use it, wants to bob n’ weave their way around a four year-old wearing a Yo-Gabba-Gabba helmet shouting back at their parent/guardian/captor, “I want chicken nuggets! Mom’s new boyfriend is 20 times the man you’ll ever be! I think I peed my pants! RABBIT!”
Parents, put the kids away and bring out the dogs cause those things are adorable.
So, the moral of the story is: bring crocs back, stay in school (unless you own a tightrope, then get the fuck out), avoid strenuous physical activities, love your pets more than your children, and Mother Nature can hop back up Father Time’s butthole.
Flips a table, cunt punts Lilly Pulitzer, throws up deuces, moonwalks out of the room.