Corgi on the Run: What I Learned During my 20 Minutes of Freedom

*****This afternoon while my family was watching the U.S Open, our corgi somehow broke out of the screen porch and escaped. Fortunately, he was unharmed and only missing for about 20 minutes. This is a memoir written from his point of view on what he did during his escape.*****

I roll over on my back, letting the Florida sun warm my belly. It’s a hot June afternoon and my humans are all inside watching other humans whack balls with sticks on tv. I’m terribly bored. I haven’t gotten a single head scratch in 37 minutes. I’m starting to grow faint from the lack of attention. How dare they leave me all alone on this porch?

I look over at the glistening lake, only 100 feet away. My mouth waters thinking about lapping up that murky lake water. The only thing that separates me from the lake is a thin screen. Maybe I should bust out and go swimming all alone. That’ll teach my humans to pay attention to Tiger Woods instead of me.

I tap on the screen door with my nose and am delighted to find that the red headed human didn’t close it all the way! This is my chance! I’ll be like Moana! No one knows how far I’ll go! I push the door open and waddle my chubby body down the steps. I really should cut back on the biscuits if I’m going to win that Corgi race next week. Oh well. Now’s the not the time to think about my body image issues, I’m free!

I make it down to the yard and realize I can do whatever I want now. I’m not constrained by the pull of a leash. I have no master.

The first thing I do with my freedom is run off the edge of the dock and belly flop into the water. The water feels amazing against my fur. I start to doggy paddle out into the lake but am immediately terrified by the number of turtles that pass me. Why are they all better at the doggy paddle than I am? I am a dog for goodness sake! This hurts my self esteem so I make my way out of the lake and shake out my fur. I’ve now been free for 4 whole minutes.

A heavenly scent wafts over from a few houses down. It smells like barbecue and forgotten dreams. I decide I must head here next and briskly trot towards the cook out. When I arrive at the source of the smell I find the most beautiful site I’ve set my canine eyes on: a grille full of meats and over 20 munching humans.

“Look it’s an orgy!” one of the human screamed. I start to wonder if I misheard them, they must have meant corgi right? I start to think of my own humans watching golf, no orgies, and they don’t seem so bad after all.

One of the tiny humans tried to pick me up and carry me inside so I snarled at him. This is my chance to be free, I certainly don’t want to join another household so soon. Especially not one that takes part in orgies.. Afraid of being captured, I flee the scene, heading further away from my house and my humans. I bet they don’t even notice I’m gone. I step on a snail just to feel powerful.

It’s been 9 minutes since I escaped and the sun is beating down on me. I think longingly about my favorite spot on the cool tile floor of my kitchen. Who knew being free would be so sweaty?

I see a pug approaching with his owner. Ha HA hA, leashed dogs, how pathetic. I prance up to him and dance a quick circle around him so he knows I’m free and he isn’t. The petrified pug then backs behind his owner as if he’s afraid of me. When did leashed dogs get so soft? I look up at the owner and realize she is also afraid of me. I look longingly at the way the human is standing between me and her beloved pet. I start to miss the protective pull of my own leash.

Seeing that the punk pug doesn’t want to engage with me, I decide to keep on walking.

Wow, it’s been 15 minutes since I escaped and I’m getting kind of hungry. I can’t go home yet though before they even have a chance to miss me. I want there to be panic. I want my picture up all around town on “lost dog” signs. I want the fame that comes from a truly beloved dog going missing.

I want them to make a tv series about me when I finally return. “The Unbreakable Corgi Schmidt”, a story about one corgi who was lost but persevered on his own until he was found. That way my humans will be watching ME on tv instead of men in khakis whacking balls.

I decide I’ll circle back to my neighbor’s house. I just want to be in ear shot to see IF my humans are calling for me yet. Not that I’ll go home if they are… even though it is dinner time and I’m very hungry.

I walk through our neighbor’s yard and freeze when I notice my neighbors are eating on their porch. Oh shoot, they’re going to spot me and tell my humans! I try to hide behind a flowerbed but my biscuit-filled belly is too large.

“Is that Cosmo?” my neighbor calls out to me, and anyone listening.

“Oh that is Cosmo! What is he doing over here?” another neighbor exclaims.

They start to call me over but instead I try to dig my way into the ground so I won’t be noticed. I hear someone nearby and look up to see my own humans approaching quickly. One of them is crying and the other is calling my name repeatedly. Jeez, I know I’m man’s best friend but these humans are soooo clingy.

I stop digging and try to act casual, like I never left home to begin with. My humans start petting me and scruffing up my fur. I roll over, feeling the warm June sun on my belly and the hands of humans who adore me.

Freedom could never be as sweet as this.

A List of Reveal Parties I’m Going to Have When I Get Pregnant

A pregnancy is a beautiful thing that should be documented and celebrated, over and over and over again. I’ve decided a simple “baby shower” is too archaic for me. Even just a “gender reveal party” seems inadequate to document my womb doing something that no other womb has done before; house a human being.

From the moment I get pregnant until I pop the little angel out nine months later it is my job, nay my DUTY, to reveal each and every step of my pregnancy to my family and friends. That being said, I’ve made a list of the nine reveal parties I’m going to have. One for each of the nine months of my very special and unique pregnancy.

1) The Pregnancy Reveal Party:

This will be a cryptic party that I invite my family and friends over for. I tell them to bring gifts but give no reason why. I tell them we are going to be watching the premiere of the new season of Game of Thrones. They’re extremely excited and bring Game of Thrones-related gifts. One of my friends casually asks me why I’m drinking water instead of the wine she brought and I seize the moment. I dramatically clink my spoon against my brand new “I drink and I know things” cup and tell all my family and friends I have an announcement. They all get quiet hoping I’m finally going to let them watch the episode but instead I announce I’m pregnant!!

2) The Father Reveal Party:

I send out another e-vite claiming I have another huge announcement regarding my pregnancy. I put “(no gifts necessary)” on the bottom of the invitation and then promptly set up a card table with a miniature sign reading “gifts”. I wrap my husband up in a giant box from Amazon and poke holes in the side so he can breathe. I tell him that when I give him the signal he’s supposed to erupt from the box wearing his “world’s best dad” tshirt. This is when I reveal that my husband of 5 years is the father of my child.

3) The Top 10 Baby Names Reveal Party:

I’m three months into my pregnancy now. It’s still too early to tell what the gender is but do I wait to have another party? Of course not! I invite all my family and friends over once again to reveal the top 10 baby names that my husband and I are kind of considering. Five for a girl and five for a boy. Instead of simply reading the names out I hide them around our house and make my friends go through an elaborate scavenger hunt to find them.

4) The Gender Reveal Party:

Hurray! It’s four months into my pregnancy and the ultrasound has revealed my baby’s teeny tiny genitalia. For the big reveal we plan to stick a young toddler that is the same gender as our baby into a catapult and shoot him into the air. He or she will be holding either blue or pink sparklers and while s/he soars through the air our guests will scream “it’s a boy” or “it’s a girl” depending on the gender of the child that is inevitably soaring to its death.

5) The Due Date Reveal Party:

It’s five months into my pregnancy and I’ve successfully been dodging the question, “when’s your due date?”. I wanted to save the news so I could have another party to celebrate. At this party I’m going to make everyone guess the due date of my baby. I announce that the winner is exempt from having to come to the remainder of my pregnancy parties. Everyone seems extremely eager to win. Especially my husband.

6) The Baby’s Political Party Reveal Party:

Come celebrate the official announcement of my negative 3-month old baby’s political party affiliation! My husband and I have decided which political party our child will belong to once he or she is 18 and eligible to vote. Stuffed elephants or donkeys for gifts are welcome.

7) The Baby’s Future Profession Reveal Party:

At this point in the pregnancy I’ve already decided what my future child will be when they grow up. I’ve  decided to push them firmly towards a single profession that I’ve chosen based on the aura they’ve given off in my womb. This is a party where I reveal to all my family and friends what my unborn baby’s future profession will be. Grown-up gifts are required and will be saved for when my child graduates college and enters said profession.

8) The Official Name Reveal Party:

After 8 months of deliberating I’ve finally chosen a name for my baby that wasn’t present at the original top 10 party. You don’t want to miss this! Please come celebrate the OFFICIAL naming party for my baby. You now know the gender and the name so choosing appropriate gifts should be a breeze! Think monogrammed onesies and either pink or blue baby gear.

9) The Birth Reveal Party:

The big day has arrived!  If you made it through my first 8 parties then you’ve earned the privilege of watching a live stream of my baby as it tears it’s way through my vaginal canal! Popcorn and refreshments will be provided.

Local Woman Violently Forces Detailed Critique of Improv 101 Showcase From Loved Ones

On May 6, 2018, Tabatha Jones finished her Improv 101 showcase with a smile and a wave to the audience. She greeted her roommate, boyfriend, and mom outside the Improv studio and suggested they all go for a post show drink at Chili’s.

The second the group sat down at the table, Tabatha’s tone changed. “So what did you think of the show?” Tabatha asked the group. “It was good!” Tabatha’s mother exclaimed before reaching for the menu. There was a long pause before Tabatha responded, “But what do you mean good?” All three of Tabatha’s loved ones made eye contact with each other before her boyfriend spoke up. “Come on Tabatha, it was a good show but you’re still new at this! You can’t expect to be the next Tina Fey already!”

Suddenly, Tabatha pulled out a massive rope from her backpack and tied each of her loved ones to their sticky Chili’s bar stool. She slammed her fist on the table and declared, “No one is leaving here until I get THOROUGH feedback on my performance!”

The waitress came to the table to drop off the group’s margaritas and Tabatha poured each one down her throat in one gulp before turning back to her horrified friends and family.

She pulled a loaded pistol out and pointed it at the group. She started asking them a million questions a minute, not pausing to hear their responses.

“Did I not say ‘yes AND’ enough??”

“When I was pretending to be a goldfish could you SEE the emotion of a fish in my eyes?”

“Do you think I asked too many questions? OH GOD I ASKED TOO MANY QUESTIONS, DIDN’T I?”

She then pulled out her laptop and typed in “Full Episodes of Whose Line is it Anyway” on Youtube. She propped up her laptop and told the group to shut up and watch the show since they CLEARLY don’t understand what Improv even is. After two hours of Whose Line is it Anyway episodes she finally closed her laptop.

“Which Whose Line actor would you say my performance was most derivative of? Am I more of a Colin or a Wayne??? ” Tabatha demanded.

“Babe I have to go the bathroom, please untie me, this is insane” Tabatha’s boyfriend pleaded with her.

“Well why don’t you just PRETEND there’s a bathroom here if you think you’re so GREAT at improv?” Tabatha shot back.

Just then Tabatha’s improv teacher showed up to the restaurant. She held up a fake gun and pointed it at Tabatha. “Tabatha I have a gun here, drop your weapon or I will shoot.” Tabatha, eager to please her improv teacher, dropped her real gun and put her hands up, doing her best impression of someone being held at gun point.

“Yes, and now I want you to do a scene where you’re pretending like you’re saving hostages and untie your friends and family.” Tabatha’s improve teacher instructed her.

Tabatha immediately jumped up and untied her loved ones.

“Very good. Good scene work,” The instructor cooed at Tabatha as she was untying her friends and family.

The police arrived on scene and put Tabatha in handcuffs, leading her out of the Chili’s. Tabatha muttered to herself “There are no mistakes in improv” over and over as she was driven away to jail.

Itinerary of a White Frat Bro Celebrating Cinco de Mayo

Noon– Wake up hungover from a long night of celebrating Star Wars Day. Lie in bed newly enraged by how Disney is ruining Star Wars with it’s increase of minority and female characters. Punch nearest wall.

12:03-  Text only Mexican friend in contact list “Happy Mexican Independence Day!” with a sombrero emoji. Stare at phone wondering why friend didn’t text back.

12:15- Walk through frat house beating chest and exclaiming “VIVA LA MEXICO!!”

12:30- Rally a group of 11 frat bros dressed in identical outfits of pastel shorts and Sperry’s to head to nearest Mexican restaurant.

1:00- Order 7 enchiladas and 9 burritos taking time to fake a Mexican accent while talking to the waitress.

2:30- After spending an hour and a half occupying a table during the lunch rush, leave a 2 dollar tip and write “gracias mamacita” along with your phone number on the receipt.

2:35– Return to frat house to take a food coma nap wrapped in your American flag duvet.

4:00 – Wake up from nap. Look over at hole in wall that you punched this morning. Google, “How to get Mexico to pay for my wall”

5:00- Drag out “Day of the Dead” masks that some of the brothers wore for Halloween and encourage bros it’ll be totally “fuego” if you all wore them to happy hour.

5:30- Roll up to your second Mexican restaurant of the day and sit at the bar. Order a Margarita and 5 tacos with sauce on the side.

5:42- Take one bite of taco and immediately spit it out into your peach-flavored margarita. Loudly complain to waiter that tacos were too spicy, even with the sauce on the side, and ask for the cook to prepare tacos with no spices. Demand free replacement margarita.

5:55- Replacement set of tacos were still way too spicy so you storm out of restaurant alone and drunkenly drive to Taco Bell.

5:57- Scream into Taco Bell drive- thru, “What can I get for 5 pesos????”, to which the Taco Bell employee responds, “Sir we only take American dollars here.” You end up getting a chicken quesadilla and a small Baja Blast.

5:58- The Baja Blast is too spicy so you throw it out the window but it hits a police car.

6:00- Policeman pulls you over and notices you’re clearly intoxicated, are wearing a Day of the Dead mask, and are driving with your feet while you eat your Taco Bell quesadilla.

6:01- Policeman angrily asks you to remove your mask.

6:01 and thirty seconds- Policeman smiles upon realizing that you’re the son of his frat bro Steve and let’s you off with a warning after telling you to “Enjoy your Cinco De Mayo, hermano.”

6:30- You arrive back to the frat house in time for your frat’s annual Cinco de Mayo (whites only) bash.

7:00- You queue up the Spotify playlist that your bros asked you to curate for the party. The playlist is just the entire motion picture soundtrack from the movie Coco along with Justin Bieber’s “Despacito.”

8:00- People start showing up to the party and you greet them with a resounding “hola!!” and offer them a shot of Jose Cuervo tequila.

8:30- Amanda from Alpha Gamma Beta Fish takes her top off and shakes her boobs like maracas while screaming the lyrics to “Despacito” and telling everyone it’s her favorite song.

9:00- You bring out the Pinata that inexplicably resembles a young Mexican child and everyone takes turns whacking it with a stick until it breaks and Mexican jumping beans are poured over the whole party.

9:02- Everyone is mad at you for filling the piñata with Mexican jumping beans instead of actual candy.

9:05- You take 7 tequila shots to drown out their complaints.

10:30- You get into a heated debate with a liberal bro from Phi Sigma Snowflake about whether or not Donald Trump is racist. To prove your point that he’s not you bring up Trump’s Cinco De Mayo tweet from 2016 where he declares, “I love Hispanics!”

10:35- You kick everyone from Phi Sigma Snowflake out of your party and promise they’ll never come to a party as great as yours ever again.

Midnight- Tired from a long day of celebrating, you pass out on your Fraternity house’s lawn wearing only a sombrero. Someone leaves a note on your back that says, “mow around me, hombre.”

Heartbreaking: Man Who Doesn’t Get his Post-workout Protein Shake Shrivels up and Dies

32-year old Bruce Ackerman started his Wednesday evening just like any other, shredding it at Gold’s gym. Bruce bought a house exactly 5 minutes away from the largest Gold’s Gym in America. He wanted to make sure he lived close enough to the gym to rush home and make himself his post-workout protein shake. Made up of 95% protein, 5% shake.

Bruce has a thirty-minute window after pumping iron to consume his protein shake otherwise his muscles shrivel up like raisins and he loses all his gainz.

On this particular Wednesday fate wasn’t on his side. Right as he was leaving the gym his old high school buddy John Jacobs entered and Bruce’s fate was sealed upon one gregarious, back-slapping handshake.  Sweat droplets leaped off Bruce’s back as John slapped it three times in a row.

“How are you my man?” Bruce asked John, not expecting a real answer.

Unfortunately for Bruce, John’s wife just left him for her Pilates instructor and Bruce had to listen to an entire speech about John’s miserable life. Despite Bruce giving all the social cues body builders have to get away from a conversation, John wouldn’t stop talking about the Pilates instructor’s’ muscular calves and ripped anterior delts.

Finally, John’s personal trainer walked up to the pair and broke them out of the conversation. Bruce gave a quick grunt to John and busted out of the gym doors, running for his life.

“I neeeeeeeed my gains” Bruce panted as he sprinted to his yellow Camaro. He was starting to feel weak. He sat down in the front seat and checked his Fit Bit. Only 4 minutes left until the 30-minute window closed and his muscles would be gone forever.

He started the engine and screeched out of the parking lot going 80mph. Chariots of Fire boomed out of his stereo. He knew his beloved Nutribullet was waiting for him. He started salivating as he thought about his quart of Whey protein powder sitting seductively on the counter.

He checked his Fitbit again. One minute left. He was too late.

Bruce yelped in pain as he felt his quad muscles start to eat themselves. Suddenly, Bruce’s arms could no longer hold the wheel as they turned into noodles.

“It’s happpppennninggggg!” Bruce shrieked as his whole body started to shrink while his clothes remained the same size.

Bruce’s naked body shrunk down to the size of a foot as he jumped on the gas pedal, knowing he was mere seconds from his home. There was a loud crash as Bruce’s car sped into the wrong lane and a semi truck slammed into it.

When the paramedics showed up on the scene there was no body to be found in the yellow Camaro. All that was left of Bruce was his Under Armour compression shorts and his Fitbit that flashed “You’ve reached your 10,000 steps today!”

Local News: Recent Grad makes Harrowing Move from Tampa to St Pete

USF graduate Rebecca Daniels recently got an entry level marketing job in St Petersburg. After long talks with her parents and family dog Ruffles, she decided it would be best for her to move across the Howard Frankland so she could be closer to work.

She was forced to cut ties with her family and friends from Tampa forever as no one will make the 20-minute trek across the bridge to see her again.

One month after the move, Rebecca fills us in on the culture shock she feels living in St Pete.

“Other than the sunshine, St Pete is like a whole new world to me. I miss Oxford Exchange and Bayshore Boulevard which sucks because there is no coffee or waterfront views here.” Rebecca told us while standing in Vinoy park holding a non-descript coffee cup.

“Every single time I tell someone I just moved here within three seconds they ask if I’ve visited the Dali museum yet.”

“Making the move from Tampa to St Pete is really like moving to a foreign country. I have to start all over and learn the customs of the area.”

As our interview with Daniels progressed she moved from saying “St Petersburg” to “St Pete” to “the Burg.” I blinked my eyes and Rebecca was suddenly wearing an “I <3 the Burg” t-shirt.

Rebecca tells us all of her St Pete friends are above 75 and she spends her evenings enjoying early bird specials at Denny’s and winning big at shuffleboard.

As someone born and raised in Tampa, this is the biggest move Daniels has ever made. With a new job, new city, and total alienation from her family, it’s a wonder Daniels hasn’t cracked under the pressure. I guess she can’t afford to crack as someone in her friend group has to remember where the car is parked.

As the interview ended, Daniels gave a wave and told us she was off to go watch the sunset on the “number one beach in America.”

Settlers of Catan: Trump Edition

Trade wives. Build Trump Towers. Settle Lawsuits.

About the game

 Welcome to “Settlers of Trump’s America,” an action-packed game that’s full President Trump’s values.  In this game, each player is playing as Donald Trump himself. You’re on a quest to “trump” the other Trumps and become the best Trump there is.

You are settlers of a new land called “Trump’s America.” You must navigate this land by using the resources you have on hand: sheep (wives), brick (gold), lumber (golf clubs), rock (coal), and wheat (fast food). You use these resources to buy settlements (Trump Towers) and cities (White Houses).

The object of the game is to earn VP’s (Vivacious Porn stars). Once a player acquires 10 Vivacious Porn stars the game ends immediately and that player is the winner.


The game pieces in “Settlers of Trump’s America” function in the same way as the classic Settlers of Catan materials, however they have different names.

In the box you’re given:

  • 2 dice
  • Game board
  • The Robber aka “The illegal immigrant”
  • Trump Tower settlements
  • White House cities
  • Links of the Border Wall
  • Resource development cards- Wives, Gold, Golf Clubs, Coal, and Fast food.
  • The Longest Border Wall card
  • The Largest ICE Army card

You start your journey in “Settlers of Trump’s America” with humble beginnings. After all, Trump started off in Brooklyn with only a small loan of a million dollars. You start the game with only two Trump Tower settlements and two links of border wall.

How to Win

 “My whole life is about winning. I don’t lose often. I almost never lose.” –Donald J Trump

You need 10 Vivacious Porn stars and a winning attitude to be victorious in Trump’s America.

You can earn VP’s in a number of different ways. The first is to trade your resources in to build Trump Towers, which are worth 1 VP, or White Houses, worth 2 VP’s.

The second way to earn your Vivacious Porn stars is by building the Longest Border Wall. Building the longest border wall will give you 3 VP’s automatically, until another player builds an even longer wall and takes those points away.

The third way to earn VP’s is to buy development cards with your resources. These development cards will either give you automatic VP’s or they will give you “ICE Agent” cards. “ICE Agent” cards give you control over the “illegal immigrant robber.” The illegal immigrant robber is on your space stealing your jobs and your resources, but the ICE agent card allows you to shift that pesky immigrant onto someone else’s land.

If you have the most “ICE Agent” cards, you earn 3 victory points for having the “largest ICE army.”

Be sure to keep track of how many Vivacious porn stars you’ve collected! After all, you wouldn’t want one running off and opening a lawsuit against you. Once you’ve reached 10 VP’s don’t forget to loudly declare yourself the BEST TRUMP EVER.

Who goes first?

 “I look very much forward to showing my financials. Because they’re huge” –Donald J Trump

Start with the richest player and continue to the poorest. Follow this rule no matter how you’re seated. Do not by any means simply start with the richest and move clockwise. All players should bring their tax statements from the year before to verify income levels.

What to do if you win

 Settlers of Trump’s America fully supports and encourage bragging from the winner. The winning player should throw the game board across the room and gloat by using their favorite Trump quotes.

We’ve provided a few suggestions below:

“Sorry losers and haters, but my IQ is one of the highest and you all know it!”

“I’ve always won, and I’m going to continue to win. And that’s the way it is.”

“Every successful person has a very large ego.”

“Bing bing, bong bong, bing bing bing”

Trump quotes to use if someone accuses you of cheating:

“There was no collusion. Everybody knows there was no collusion.”

“Do you mind if I sit back a little? Because your breath is very bad—it really is.”

Reviews of “Settlers of Trump’s America” from real players:

What are people saying about the number 1 ranked board game in America?

 “I love that the pieces are made smaller so that I can grip them better! President Trump has made me feel better about my tiny hands.”– Stephanie, aged 7, Texas

“Trading wives? Building border walls? Collective Porn stars? Finally, a board game that reflects my conservative family values!” – George, aged 54, Georgia

“Hours of family fun! Though my son drives me crazy with his use of the Illegal Immigrant Robber. When I play with him I can never keep any resources!” – Shirley, aged 46, Florida

“I LOVE this game!! But I can never seem to have enough coal!” – Dennis, aged 50, Wyoming

**Settlers of Trump’s America Made in China**

5 People to Ask When You’re Desperate for a Letter of Recommendation

Are you applying to grad school soon? Are you in need of references for your first job? Can you only remember the names of 1 of your college professors even though you graduated 8 months ago? Not all of us had the foresight to form eternal bonds with our professors in college. Some of us sat in the back of the classroom doing online Sudoku puzzles when we should have been taking notes. As a result, when it comes time to ask for a letter of recommendation, our options are limited.

There are some people in our lives who know us far more intimately than our professors ever could. The qualities graduate schools look for include flexibility, optimism, motivation, persistence, and organization. If you think hard enough there are definitely people in your life who can attest to at least one of these qualities for you.

Don’t give up on your grad school dreams and think outside the box when it comes to your letters of recommendation. This guide will give you the perfect suggestion on who you can ask to write you a brilliant letter.

1) Your Orthodontist

 Quality: Persistence

When looking for someone to vouch for how persistent you are, who better than your orthodontist? Your orthodontist was with you all through your formative years. He was there when you needed a palette expander, then braces, then a second palette expander because you have the upper jaw size of a chinchilla. Book an appointment with your orthodontist in the coming weeks and casually slip the letter of recommendation into conversation. But first, be sure to cram your dusty retainer into your mouth so it at least looks like you’ve been wearing it for the past few years.

2) Your Yoga Instructor

Quality: Flexibility

Your yoga instructor is someone who can honestly vouch for your flexibility. Or at the very least she can say that you always try to be flexible. Your yoga instructor has seen you come back time and time again even when you can never fully extend your legs while in downward dog. She has seen you contort in pain as you move from position to position. While you may not be her most flexible student, you have a commitment to flexibility that grad schools crave.

3) Your Freshman Year Roommate

Quality: Optimism 

Remember when you were 18 and  moving into your college dorm? You still believed in yourself and in the world. You didn’t know how anything worked but you stayed up late braiding your roommate’s hair and telling her everything you hoped to accomplish in college. Well, college is over now and you’re realizing that an MA is the new BA and that you have to jump back on that hamster wheel called education if you ever want to move up in the world.

You’re now cynical and jaded and you haven’t smiled in three years. But your freshman year roommate will still remember the optimistic, starry-eyed you from when you shared a 10 by 10 foot room with them. They’ll remember the time you threw up Four Lokos into your shared toilet but still woke up the next morning with no hangover. Ah, to be 18 again.

4) Your Starbucks Barista

Quality: Motivation

The line for the Starbucks in the school library was at least a 20-minute time commitment. Your Starbucks barista saw you powering through that line all the time, motivated to get that Caramel Macchiato. Your barista saw you order an extra shot of espresso when you were up late studying. They saw you switch to almond milk during that week that you went vegan. At the very least, they know your name from writing it on your cup thousands of times during your four years of undergrad, which is more than you could say about most of your professors.

5) Your Group Project Member from Junior Year

Quality: Organization

You remember in Junior year when you were paired with Felicity Jones for a group project? Both of you were waiting for the other one to cave and take control of the project but neither of you did so on the night before the project was due you scrambled the whole thing together. Felicity owes you for that project. It was worth 30% of your grade and you were ORGANIZED enough to pull the whole thing together in one night. You were nice enough to slap both of your names on it even though you did all the work, and now she can be nice enough to slap together a letter of recommendation for you.

Use this guide to secure a letter of recommendation today

Just because you didn’t form relationships with your professors doesn’t mean you’re not a persistent, flexible, optimistic, motivated gem who deserves to go to grad school.

Use the suggestions in this guide to get the quality letters of recommendation you deserve from people who know the real you!

United Airlines Made Me Flush my Emotional Support Leprechaun Down the Toilet

Having an emotional support leprechaun sham-ROCKED while it lasted. Almost one year ago today, on St Patrick’s Day 2017, I followed a rainbow and found a leprechaun dozing at the end of it. I could tell this leprechaun was an emotional support leprechaun because he immediately walked up to me, hopped on my shoulder, and whispered, “You’re doing great, lassie.”

Since then, Seamus became my emotional support leprechaun and hasn’t left my shoulder. We do everything together and Seamus functions in all the same ways as an emotional support animal. When I’m stressed, I pet Seamus’s hairy back. When I’m hungry, Seamus and I eat bowls of Lucky Charms together. When I meet a guy I’m interested in Seamus gives me cheesy Irish pick up lines to use like, “I’m not the Blarney Stone but you should still kiss me.”

With my red hair and general Celtic appearance, no one has ever questioned why I’m carrying a leprechaun around with me. In fact, many people who pass us tip their hat at Seamus to greet him. Nobody seemed to mind until today, when United Airlines REFUSED to let my emotional support leprechaun on the plane.

Seamus and I made it through TSA just fine, though he wasn’t happy about having to take off his little leprechaun boots (leprechauns are notorious for their foul foot odor). But when we got to the United Airline’s gate the attendant asked for Seamus’s boarding pass.  I told them that Seamus was my emotional support leprechaun and not a separate passenger but they just rolled their eyes at me.

After arguing with the airline attendants for 10 seconds I knew what had to be done. I looked over at Seamus who looked back at me with the usual gleam in his eye. Seamus looked trusting. He knew I would never hurt him. He knew I would either find a way to get him on the plane or exit the plane myself.

“I have to go to the bathroom”, I told Seamus, who looked a little puzzled since he knew I just went before trying to board the plane. I smiled reassuringly at Seamus while I turned towards the bathroom and picked up my pace. Every noise in the airport seemed amplified at that moment. The woman slurping her iced latte, the businessman flipping pages of his newspaper, the clacking of shoes, it was all unbearably loud. Seamus was humming an Irish River Dance song in my ear. I started to jog towards the bathroom because I just wanted it all to be over.

I ran into a stall and slammed the door behind me. I crouched down in front of the toilet as Seamus stopped humming. He slowly turned his head toward me with widened eyes. At that point I removed Seamus from my shoulder for the first time in a whole year and shoved him in the toilet. Seamus is only about the size of my hand and never learned how to swim so he started drowning. The last words I said to him were “Irish you could have lived, I really do!” before pulling the lever and flushing him down.

I stood up and composed myself then walked back to the gate. Every step without my emotional support leprechaun I grew increasingly unstable.  The airline attendant asked, “Where’s your leprechaun?” but I just glared at her and shook my head. How dare they be so unreasonable? How dare they leave me literally no other choice but to flush my beloved emotional support leprechaun down a toilet? I took my seat and ordered a Guinness from the drink cart. Seamus used to love Guinness, I thought to myself. Then I cracked open the can, propped my feet up on the seat in front of me, and Googled “How to sue a major airline company.”

NRA Makes Move to Arm Nation’s Class Hamsters

There is a proposal in the works to put guns in the hands of class pets around the nation. The obvious answer to ending gun violence in schools is arming every living being in the classroom that’s not a student. The National Rifle Association believes putting guns in the furry paws of class pets is just what the nation needs to keep its children safe.

In order to discover what class pets think of the proposal I went to Turner Elementary school and talked to their class hamster, Kenny. When I arrived Kenny appeared very stressed. He was running like mad on his hamster wheel. I tentatively approached him and asked how he felt about packing heat at school.


Q. So Kenny, what was your initial reaction to hearing about the proposal to arm class pets in schools?

“Well the way I see it, there are pro’s and con’s to the situation. One major pro is that I’ve been promised extra treats if I hold a firearm at school. You see, I’m criminally underpaid as a class pet. Sometimes the kids even forget to feed me. But on the con side, I’m a hamster and I’ve never shot a gun in my life.”


Q. What are you concerned about when it comes to being armed in your classroom?

“I’m worried how students will react to me if they see me packing a pistol. I worry they’ll be afraid of me, when I was once their beloved pet. Of course sometimes the kids drive me crazy and I imagine what it would be like to take one out but I would never actually do it. Well, maybe Sean who picks me up and shakes me like a Coke can at least twice a day. But other than that there is not a single child in this class that I would want to kill.”


Q. So you’re worried the students will see you differently?

“Sure. Class pets are supposed to be things students can trust. I wouldn’t want to cast a dark shadow over the classroom by possessing a deadly weapon. Anytime a student came to talk or snuggle with me they would know I had the ability to kill them. I wouldn’t feel right fulfilling my duties as a class pet knowing that I have a weapon just a paw away.

I’m also concerned because I have a lot of friends who are class pets who I wouldn’t necessarily want to arm. A close friend of mine is the class rabbit over at Springfield middle school. I would never want her packing a gun, she’s way too jumpy.”


Q. Don’t you think it would be a good experience to be cross trained in two professions?

“When I went to school to be a class pet I never thought I would be asked to carry a gun. If I wanted to shoot people, I would have become a hamster cop like my brother Terry. If I decided to take up a second career it wouldn’t be law enforcement, it would be Pilates instructor. Hamsters are extremely flexible and we have a lot to teach the world about how to properly move their limbs.”


Q. With proper training, do you think you’d be able to stop a gunman with an AR-15?

“I could run every day on this hamster wheel and be in tip top shape and still not feel equipped to stop a person with an assault rifle. Even with the proposed 132 hours of training I don’t feel like I would be equipped to carry a fire arm.”


Q, What exactly is your role in this classroom?

“Lately I’ve transitioned into an emotional support hamster for these kids. They’re all nervous and stressed out.  Maybe instead of guns we should buy every single student an emotional support hamster. That way some of their mental health issues could be addressed and I wouldn’t have to be squeezed until my eyes bug out of my head by 25 different sets of hands. Plus, no child feels like shooting up a school after stroking the soft fur of an emotional support hamster. #HamstersNotHandguns.”


Q. Where do you think President Trump is coming from when he suggests arming class pets?

“I hear our president talk a lot about “hardening” our schools but I wonder how I, a creature so soft, could possibly harden anything. Maybe we should consider “hardening” our curriculum and investing more in education. After all we are falling further and further behind China every year.

I know my hamster brain is only the size of a chickpea but even I can tell these American kids need a better education. The first thing American children learn in school is their second amendment rights. Last week a girl named Kimmy recited the 2nd amendment but she couldn’t spell the word tomato.”


Q. Do you feel you have a safe place to store your gun when you’re not using it?

“To be frank, no. I’m a public school class pet. I don’t have the fancy schmancy cages of prep school class hamsters. I have one cold cage that seems like it was built for a dwarf hamster. I don’t even have any toys or tubes to run around in. But they want me to secure a pistol that’s almost as big as my cage itself.

I tweeted at Donald Trump to ask if he would be making miniature sized pistols to accommodate class pets and he tweeted back. “No, when I do something, I do it bigly. All class pets will be carrying hooman sized guns”


Q. He said hooman instead of human?

“He said hooman.”


Q. What gives you, a class pet, any right to weigh in on the issue?

“You know, that is a good question. When it comes to arming class pets I don’t think we should listen to class pets at all. I am actually shocked you came here asking my opinion in the first place.”


Q. Well, a lot has been said today Kenny. I want to let you get back to your job but first could you summarize your thoughts on this issue?

“So I guess to answer your question, no I don’t want the responsibility of being armed in school. But if you wanted to start paying class pets a decent wage I wouldn’t complain. After all, we’re spending all day enhancing the lives of America’s youth. I think that’s worth something even if we don’t have guns in our hands.  Maybe just a few extra yogurt bites?”