Dear Natty Light,
I remember when I first tasted you, I thought someone had played a trick and urinated in the can before handing you to me. Now I understand that my palette was painfully overdeveloped and I have since happily regressed. When I drink you now, you taste more like water than water does and I’ve realized the trick is to cool you to a temperature so cold that my taste buds lose function. Thank you for all the epic games of beer pong, flip cup and Snappa. I may start buying more expensive beer, but I’ll never forget you and all the times we shared.

[media-credit id=20151 align=”alignleft” width=”250″][/media-credit]Dear Procrastination,
Every time I told you it would be our last. But you were so seductive; I couldn’t stop myself from coming back. Thank you for making me realize how quickly I could work when I needed to and for helping me do non-homework-related but still productive things like cleaning my room, watching random interviews online and spontaneously initiating a beach cleanup. I wanted to tell you that I would never see you again, but I couldn’t even write the sentence without laughing. See you next deadline.

Dear Next Door Neighbors Who Liked to Blow Their Speakers out Playing Techno Music,
Most people dislike the sounds their computers make when malfunctioning, but you put them to a beat and blasted them through my tightly closed windows on random nights during the week. Sure, I probably would have gotten more work done without your “music,” but I wanted to thank you for teaching me new levels of patience. P.S. Please stop, seriously.

Dear People in Class Who Did Things Other Than Take Notes,
Not many people could learn formal logic while playing bubble blaster on their Macs. You were the exception. While others were foolishly trying to concentrate on the lecture, you were airbrushing last weekend’s pictures before posting them to Facebook. I understand you were probably doing this for some sort of love interest, but ultimately, can desperation ever be airbrushed? Thank you for giving me entertainment once in a while; I appreciated it while wiping the tears of boredom from my cheeks and chin during medieval history. Oh, and to the guy with the Jessica Alba background — moving your knight to B8 would have given you the checkmate like seven moves earlier.

Dear Being Sexiled,
Sure, I would have preferred to have been on the other side of the arrangement, but it was a great learning experience regardless. Thank you for teaching me sex doesn’t always have to sound normal. It can also sound like the yipping of two new-born puppies, you sick freaks.

Dear Girls Who Tanned Even if it Was a Freezing, Windy Day,
I remember seeing you in bikinis on your front lawn as I biked past shivering in my winter jacket. You showed me what it meant to have principles, and the sacrifice it took to stand (lie?) by them even when it was clear to everyone that tanning with goose bumps couldn’t possibly lead to an even brown. Your resilience was inspiring and I hope your future is filled with only warm days.

Dear Twin Beds in the Dorms,
You might have been extra long, but you were sorely lacking in width. I cursed you many times as I lay unmoving, half my butt hanging off the bed, trying not to wake the person next to me. You were also very unhelpful sophomore year when I was a Resident Assistant. My girlfriend had a normal person-sized bed in Isla Vista, and it was always fun trying to convince her to come over. “Come on,” I would tell her. “We can role-play RA–resident. I can start writing you up, and then you ask if there’s anything you can do. It’ll be hot!” This never worked and only led to mockery and uncomfortable questions.