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Everything We’ve Learned at the Base of a Southwest Toilet


There comes a time in one’s life when they must reflect and really grow, take a spiritual journey towards enlightenment and become an adult. To step back and consider the processes that brought them from the adventurous young tot striving to be just like their older sibling, to the person slumped over a toilet in Moore, sweating and gasping for air in between dry heaves.

It seems like only yesterday they were wide eyed and innocent. And here they are today, face to porcelain with metaphorical knives of fire driving into their bellies, and their friend Mitch coming in every fifteen minutes to say something like, “dude” and laugh, “fuck, man, this is pretty gnarly.”


Where did those days flutter off to? The days when saying words like “hell” or “damn” were capital offenses, just something learned from the older kids during recess. Now they find themselves at 1 a.m, eyes rolling back into their skulls at the pain of their headaches, desperately salivating and spitting up what little stomach contents remain.

Where did they go wrong exactly? Who is at fault? Was it their friend Brittany, who urged them to take that third shot of Cherry Rubinoff when they knew that Berk Late Night had perhaps upset their stomachs a little? Or are they themselves to blame, symbolically taking the third shot of symbolic youth at their own symbolic urging, symbolically?

As they kneel there with waves of nausea thrashing in their bellies and mucus dripping down their chin, it is important to consider these questions. How did they get from the person they once were to the person they are now, one might ask. Are they kneeling in pee or water? Is that their blood, or the blood of that gross boy in Phi Sig?

When they lay their heads to rest against the gritty side of the bathroom stall they will realize that the world is full of heartbreak, and that they were made to be hurt. That they accept the love they think they deserve, and that if someone is right for them, that someone will return. That that someone might be a toilet.  And that “evol” is love spelled backwards, and “evol” sounds kind’ve like evil, which is bad, but love is good? So like?

They may also realize that it’s never a good idea to try to impress their crush by detonating a beer in their dorm room – seriously who the fuck do they think they are? They learned of the resiliency of frats in denying them attendance to parties. They have learned that UMass toilet paper is sandpaper, all it’ll do is irritate.

At long last, after what felt to be an eternity of excruciating psychological and physical torment…it’s over. By this point they reach catharsis, realizing that time is all, and nothing at all. That they are just young, and dumb, and unsure, vomiting on the floor of a cold bathroom in Southwest.   



WATCH: Here’s a real shocker: old rich white guys don’t care about women’s health.



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