This is something I hate more than anything else. I hate when, for example, I’m about to walk into San Nicolas Residence Hall, but before I go inside, I yell to a bunch of guys playing football on the lawn, “Hey throw me the ball.” They stare at me, and then I repeat, “Come on, throw me the damn ball.” They look at me, some little kid wearing a backpack, some more, just staring. “Throw the fucking football. C’mon, I just want one throw.” Then they turn around and continue playing.

This begins my article on dicks. Or, in other words, “The Dicks of San Nic.” Unfortunately, I am not referring to specific people here, just the types of people that make me want to punch something. Like them.

I don’t care if people are arrogant. However, I do care if they smoke weed. No, I was kidding about that one.

The truth: I care if people are boring. I feel very strong about this. Take the kid next to me before the anthropology final. Here I am, standing around, trying to be a good guy, as I ask Mr. “I’m the shit cuz I’m wearing sunglasses when it’s cloudy out” a question. I ask if he knows anything about the !Kung tribe. The kid blinks and looks at me like I’m a species from the zoo. He opens his mouth in awe and stares at me in shock. Yes, I’m talking to you, you son of a bitch, and apparently I’ve just learned that you’re a cocksucker.

And what’s with the girls who really won’t talk to you if you’ve had a little bit of alcohol? Hey dummies, I’m not gonna rape no one! This is a common scene: I’ve had six shots, and Biff and I want to see what’s happening on the seventh floor. We take the elevator, and in it we see a small Asian girl.

“Hey, what’s up?” we ask, probably pretty loud.

“Hi,” she murmurs. Her eyes are terrified. I feel bad so I ask, “What floor you on?”

“Fifth.”

When the elevator opens, she scampers out, and Biff and I look at each other like “what the fuck.” It’s not like we wanted to bang that girl or anything, but Christ, girls could be less suspicious on Friday nights. I mean, come on, if two drunk girls were with me in the elevator…

Okay, I’ll get off the subject.

But seriously: What’s everybody afraid of?

Other than my dislike of boring-ass motherfucker people, I really don’t have a problem with anyone.

Except for Hispanics.

No, I was kidding. But really: hypocrites, liars, pinheads, losers, stuck-up people, rich kids, fat kids, dummies, homosexuals or Irish monkeys – I really don’t care. My only complaint is this: Get a sense of humor, or get interesting. What are you, a brick wall? And look… I finally stopped cursing. Anyone got anything interesting to say about that?

Actually, that was bullshit. I didn’t stop cursing. Fuck.

Anthony Manganaro is an undeclared freshman.