Ah, take a whiff. Freshly cut grass, spring allergens are in the air, and only a faint stench of Relays weekend can be smelt around campus. And then, bam! Guess what: It’s finals, bitches.

I want to be in the pitch room at a Hollywood office. I’ve always questioned how they come up with some of the crazy stuff that captivates the public. Do they laugh when they suggest it? Do they ask their friends if they’d like it?

The first step is admitting a problem—I might be a turning into a hipster. I don’t know how this happened, but I have transformed before my eyes.

Typing. How weird is typing when you actually think about it? Buttons get pushed, they correspond with letters, they make up words, those make up thoughts, and before you know it—your mind is blown.

Oh, hi there. We’re friends now? Should we start saying hello to each other or just stalk each others’ weekend photos… the latter? Cool, but just don’t chat me.

The Crack Kills.