Dear Freshman Playing The Ukelele In The Quad Outside My Window at 11:30 PM

Posted: January 27, 2012 in Uncategorized
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Okay, freshman. I understand that you’re away from home for the first time in your life, and you are excited and scared. I know that you think it’s really cool to stay up hours and hours into the darkness. You also think that playing the ukelele is cool, for whatever reason. (Here is a tip: ukeleles are dorky and hipsterish. Mandolins are cool.) So you see, I comprehend why you are doing such a thing. You and me, we grok each other, man.

Still, I have to tell you one thing:

When you play your ukelele in the quad outside my window at 11:30 PM, I automatically assume you are a douchebag.

Not that I have anything against douchebags personally. Wait, scratch that– I do have something against douchebags. Namely, that they play the ukelele outside my window at 11:30 PM, thus depriving me of the much-needed sleep that I need. Because as we all know, no Internet and no sleep make Ian go crazy. And when I don’t get any sleep, I will go crazy. Rest assured that the fiery rage that smolders deep within my heart is enough to summon a spectral swarm of nightcrows from the depths of the Shadowfell, converging on you as you stand at the crossroads, lantern in hand, on the night of the new moon. They swarm around you, and just before you are devoured by them, one of them will take a crap on your flannel hoodie. Because the nightcrows hate hipsters, and have resist 20 to pretentious douchebaggery. As your flesh is slowly devoured and the light fades from your eyes, you will see my smiling face, beautiful and terrible in its wrath. And I will go back to my dorm room, lay down in my bed, and sleep, a smile on my face. You know why? Because I can’t hear any ukeleles.

And that makes all the difference.

(Please note that this note is not directed to the person who plays the flute late at night. I think that the sound of your instrument is both beautiful and mournful, and I think we could hang out. Just be aware that if you switch to a ukelele, your days are numbered. And trust me: if the number of your days were written out into binary, it wouldn’t even be a nybble. Yes, that is a technical term.)

Okay. Now I need a lawn, so I can tell the damn kids to get off it.

Damn kids.

~ Ian

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