Franz Kafka’s “The Thesis”
K. often wondered if he had become trapped in a time loop, like that movie Palm Springs. “My thesis is 467 pages long. What else is there to do?”
K. often wondered if he had become trapped in a time loop, like that movie Palm Springs. “My thesis is 467 pages long. What else is there to do?”
What did you say, maggot? You’ve got “a fever”? Dude, go get that checked out right now. Brother Cody, open the window.
Well, would you look at that. Normally everyone condescends to us and makes fun of online college, but now I guess we’re all in the same boat.
You too would like to manage the front desk of a dilapidated alcohol peddler who mostly sells Malibu rum to teenagers with fake IDs.
Deep, deep down, I do miss cleaning the bathroom after my son eats Chipotle’s Super Burrito with extra queso.
The college group chat will be remembered for its many colorful names, conferred by different members of the chat across its 11 years of existence.
I deserve my on-campus mansion. I am enough for my on-campus mansion. No one can take my on-campus mansion from me.
And before you get skeptical or overthink our business model, this is NOT slave labor repackaged as a benevolent good.
How am I supposed to get people to think I’m cultured and experienced if I don’t have the selfies with European landmarks to prove it?
My boss trusted me enough to get coffee and sometimes even pick up an occasional muffin. In addition, I became well-versed in Excel.
There's no better job out of college than playing in the MLB. Great pay, fame, and most of the time you’re standing around and not doing anything.
Persistent Car Salesman: Hi, Jared, it’s me, Buddy (at least that’s the name you call me by). Well… I’ve written a screenplay!