Thursday, June 28, 2007
Daily Douchebag: Smith Alumnae Quarterly
Nickname: SAQ (of shit)
DOB: N/A
Occupation: Annoying Smith alumnae
Hometown: Northampton, Assachusetts
Current Residence: the bottom of many an alumnae garbage can or recycling bin
Douchebaggery: Here is a sample of the scintillating news stories a Smith College alumna can expect when opening her glossy new issue of the SAQ:
Knitting a Mobius band
In interterm class, professor combines two loves: knitting and high-level math
By Elise Gibson
Knitting scarves and socks may be all the rage, but during interterm an informal class went well beyond knit-one-purl-two and took the practical craft of knitting into the realm of mathematical theory.
Led by knitting enthusiast and visiting assistant professor of mathematics sarah-marie belcastro (she prefers to go by the lower case), the class in mathematical knitting promised to instruct students on how to knit mathematical objects, like a Möbius band and a double-holed torus (a single torus is shown at left). “I thought these shapes would be cool to have around,” said Evy Johnson AC, on why one might want to knit a model of hyperbolic space or a projective plane.
No math knowledge was required for the five-session class, but nonetheless, it attracted several math majors, as well as students of linguistics, biochemistry, and medieval studies. A few students showed up packing their own needles and bedecked in handmade creations. One boasted about her senior hat with its knitted DNA-style double helix.
This reminded me of the fact that when I was at Smith, knitting was the hot hobby to take up if you were a fugly fat bitch who didn't drink on account of some prior bad experience with a half-jigger of peach schnapps. There was actually a club called the Knitwits where these bitches would get together and make ugly rainbow-colored Pride scarves for their mustachioed boobmashing partners. I'd ask what kind of loser would boast about knitting a fucking DNA-shaped hat if I hadn't suffered through four years of biology classes with these unremarkable hookers. Color me completely unsurprised that sarah-marie belcastro looks precisely as I would imagine knitting enthusiast, math teacher, and eschewer of capital letters should: frumpy, unkempt, and snuggling up to some obese pussy.
Smith sells shirts that say "Smith College: 125 years of women in exciting positions." I'll tell you why they're "exciting positions"...because most of the bitches at Smith are so ugly you HAVE to hit that shit from the back. The Rally Day medalists are, as usual, no exception.
Anyway, after getting progressively more annoyed with the news articles and disgusted by the pictures in this issue of the SAQ, I went to the "Class Notes" section to see if there was any interesting news about people I know. Most of it was the standard "so-and-so got married and/or got a stupid hyphenated last name and/or popped out a squalling brat" that I don't give two shits about. However, I did see a bunch of stupid shit about some ho in grad school who I don't know saying that "in between western blots and PCRs, I found God, met my husband, and got married!" That's a match made in heaven right there, because the only human beings on earth as reliably unattractive as Smith bitches are male graduate students in the biomedical sciences. Also, I was less-than-pleased to see that friends-turned-sworn enemies of mine were sending in their predictable updates:
Ethan Suniewick writes, “I came out as trans, transitioned my gender from female to male, and graduated from San Francisco State with an MA in human sexuality.”Ethan nee Abby defriended me during my senior year because--according to her--I was too selfish. That means I stopped buying cigarettes for her (she "didn't smoke", but I realized that I was buying two packs a day to support her shameless bumming), got tired of listening to her whine about her constant bitchery-fests with her LUG (lesbian until graduation) girlfriend, and I refused to attend any more Smithereens (the SHITTY acapella group she was in) concerts because I was concerned that I would succumb to homicidal impulses if I had to listen to yet another butchered choral harmonic rendition of "When Doves Cry." As a result, Abby told me very passive-aggressively that she didn't need people in her life anymore who were self-absorbed and I should keep my meat-eating, boy-fucking, PBR-swilling, non-Parliament Light-sharing ass back on the second floor of Jordan House where it belonged. I told her to fuck off and we weren't friends after that. Now that I think about it, the bitch never gave me back any of the shit she had borrowed from me when we were friends! Ethan--who no doubt has a great job with his recent very professionally useful masters degree in human sexuality--owes me a pack of Zig-Zag rolling papers, a REI zip-up fleece, and a Smiths The Queen is Dead CD! He's probably smoking a joint, fending off the chilly San Fran weather with my cozy jacket, and rocking out to "Bigmouth Strikes Again" while laughing at my expense, the son-of-a-bitch bastard.
Anyway, the SAQ has me all fired up, and when I get too hot under the collar about it, problems usually ensue. Long-time Razzyphiles may recall that the entire Tej Offensive began when Tej Bindra '07 took exception to a post I wrote making fun of an article about her housing lottery fortunes in the SAQ. Therefore, I should just do what's good for me and send that SAQ straight to the landfill where it belongs.
Labels: Daily Douchebag, Dumb Smith bitches, oh the horror, overcompensation, ranting, scathing indictments, you're ugly
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]
