By Sophia DuRose
The Fake Epistemologist
If I hear the words, “we have to unpack the intersectionality of this experience,” one more time there is going to be some intersectionality between my foot and her ass. I’m guessing she lives in an apartment with her freshman roommate, though they’ve since drifted slightly apart and she calls her mother promptly at six p.m. every Thursday night before going out to a happy hour and allowing herself one (1) Margarita before trying to pick up men at the bar with fake glasses that look like my grandfather’s from 1974.
Everyone knows food trucks are great, but that doesn’t mean you have to come into an hour long lecture every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with a different vegetarian enchilada concoction or tofu burrito wrapped in those obnoxious bright yellow plastic bags that will probably end up choking a sea turtle despite the fact that this dude has grown his shaggy hair to his shoulders, wears Birkenstocks, says the words, “rad man,” and preaches about the dangers of climate change which is why he says he doesn’t use shampoo in between bites of oily ooze. He probably has nine roommates, one of whom is taking a semester off to work on his environmentally-charged start-up.
The Highlighter Hoe
We live in a digital age, and no matter how many times scientists say that writing notes by hand will allow me to recall facts easier, I absolutely refuse to be that bitch with all the primary and secondary colors lined up on my desk like a rainbow splatter of word vomit, frantically shuffling the pens around as facts are spewed from the professor’s lips. She’s most likely wearing a sorority sweatshirt and leggings, and the ankle bracelet above her striped Adidas is actually some precious metal only found in a specific mountain range of Western Europe. Her tan is as fake as her humility.
The Big Pants Little Shirt Girl
She never raises her hand in class, and I can’t figure out if that’s because her shirt is so cropped that if she raises her arm above her head the shirt will lift precariously, exposing boobs definitely not confined by the misogynistic and oppressive device of a bra but definitely speckled with tattoos of houseplants and her star sign, or if it’s because she thinks the double nose ring in her face actually makes her exempt from the mundanity of expected social order where authority is definitely not a construct. I don’t think she’s done any of the readings, but she’ll probably pass the class, having stuffed her big pants with last year’s final.
The Guy Everyone Knows for No Fucking Reason
I actually have nothing to say about this dude because I don’t fucking know him, but literally everyone else does, and when he walks into the classroom at a perfectly appropriate time, he is, without fail, greeted by at least three people, and when he sits in class, without doing anything special or remarkable, he is called on at least twice, and when he gets up to leave, at least one person walks out of the door with him, clapping him on the back or the shoulder. Maybe he’s one of the bitches who has a building named after him.
The Girl Who Still Wears Leggings Under Her Jeans
All I have to say is that horse girls don’t go away in middle school.
The Girl Who Wants to Fuck Her Professor
She doesn’t actually want to fuck her professor, she just wants people to think she can fuck the professor. It’s all about the power dynamics with this one. Probably because she has some unresolved daddy issues that manifest in inappropriate behaviors like sitting on the professor’s desk at office hours and twirling her hair around her ballpoint pen. The professor doesn’t want to fuck her, either, to be clear, but he likes thinking that he can.
The Girl Who Did Fuck Her Professor
This girl is unassuming. She has an air of unapproachability that makes you want to approach her. A collective six piercings across both ears, and a haircut that is just barely ahead of the trends. She’s pretty enough for people to whisper, “she’s pretty” behind her back, but not tell her to her face. She slept with the professor not for a grade and not for power, but because she could and she wanted to. She thinks she’ll get a job in communication post-graduation, though she doesn’t even really know what that means. Her dad works for Bank of America and her mom makes scrapbooks.
The Guy Who Took One Philosophy Class and Now Thinks He’s Aristotle Reborn
This guy isn’t even qualified to be compared to Aristotle’s asshole even though they spew the same shit. He took Philosophy 101 his freshman spring and now thinks he’s both enlightened and original. He wears button-downs on the daily and says shit like, “Why are they called apartments when they’re all stuck together?” His dad is a lawyer and even though he’s given a weekly stipend of three hundred dollars for groceries and other expenses he’ll venmo charge you three dollars after splitting the bill because he “forgot to account for the tip.”
The Joan Didion Wannabe
Perhaps the most infuriating of them all. The kicker is that this person has real talent, and they know it. Every time you have a poignant page example, there she is. Every time you think your reading of a poem is new and enlivened, she refutes it. Every time you think you nailed the essay assignment, she goes that extra mile with the word count. She’s not the kind of journalist who peaks at her college newspaper; she’s the kind of writer who is going to go on and write divine masterpieces, and as much as you hate to admit that her gray sweater and light wash blue jeans fit her in just the right way to make a basic outfit look chic, you can’t help but admire the way she attacks every perspective, prioritizing integrity above whether or not the rest of the class likes her.