This article was published in the October 18, 2016 issue of The Skidmo’ Daily, Skidmore College’s only intentionally satirical newspaper.
Celebration Weekend is known for its unification of the Skidmore community. Parents get to experience their child’s home-away-from-home firsthand by enjoying captivating three-hour-long performances in the gymnasium and tasting the gourmet cuisine our students get to cherish everyday. For some, however, the presence of parents creates discomfort (like when your mom found your anal beads and thought it was a friendship bracelet).
The new school year yields new relationships, and at this point, these young flames are just getting to know each other. They haven’t even spent the night or tried out their anal beads yet, so throwing Jim and Betsy into the mix is a storm waiting to happen.
Most couples are smart enough not to share a dinner date at Wheatfields with Jim, Betsy, Lisa, Frank, Racist Uncle Jeff, Creepy Adopted Brother Billy, the whole gang. But if you haven’t realized by now, Skidmore is a small campus. This unfortunate characteristic has ruined the lives of countless members of our community, especially in the context of romantic or sexual affairs. One student in particular was brave enough to speak out about her recent breakup.
“I didn’t even get a chance to make him my Man-Crush Monday!” Katie, a firstyear, exclaims with watering eyes. Upon asking her to recount the details of her breakup, she describes a scene in which her family sits in Case Center, enjoying some signature Burgess Café pumpkin spice lattes. “I looked up, and there Mark was with his mom, dad, and little brother. He introduced me as his friend, and in that moment I swear I wanted to die.” To make matters worse, Katie’s mother reportedly gushed about how much she’s heard about her daughter’s then-boyfriend. “My mom is such a fucking idiot!” Katie adds. After some uncomfortable small talk, the two families parted ways. Thirty minutes later, however, Mark sent a text to Katie saying “Yo we need 2 talk,” which, according to a Harvard study, is the third most terrifying text to receive, right behind “turn around” and “new phone who dis?”
“He said things were just moving too fast,” Katie laments, shaking her head. “I miss him. I miss his eyes, I miss his smell, I miss his huge-”
We cut Katie off, suggesting she go “tell it to a fucking therapist.”
The moral of the story, some would argue, is that you should pretend that you don’t have a family. Refer to Disney films for creative causes of death, like forest fires or capsized ships. Unfriend your whole family on Facebook to destroy any evidence of their existence. Only then will you find a love that lasts.
