Today’s forecast: Rainy, tearful emotions in the morning, sunny smiles in the afternoon, hazy memories overnight.
Oh, you thought you would be able to get the barometric pressure and stuff in the box labeled “Weather”? HA! You are such a freshman.
I am the Weatherhuman. I’m anonymous, sexless, nameless and faceless, but by the end of the year, you will want me more than a 22-year-old virgin wants that drunk girl dancing on the DP balcony and you will love me more than a stoner loves Freebirds at 4:45. What’s more, I’ll love you back (though it will be hard to tell through all the sarcasm and cruelty). You can look in this box everyday for my witty remarks about whatever the hell I see — which is a lot, considering I AM the weather.
Freshmen, good luck. You need it. Transfers, you don’t know crap about UCSB, either. Don’t act cool. You’re not. That goes for you, too, cocky FSSP kids.
Thursday’s forecast: Ninety incoming students drop out before setting foot on campus, crying about how the Weatherhuman was “so mean to me!”