Summer is officially over. I've gone on hundreds of coffee runs, made thousands of copies and have been trying to get Magic!'s "Rude" out of my head for two and a half months now.
Incoming freshmen, I have some advice for you: take it easy on the lies you are bound to tell your friends. You didn't get a 35 on your ACT and come to Emory because it was warmer than UPenn. You didn't get with the best-looking person in your high school. Don't tell people that you did. Those lies will haunt you. You'll never know when to come clean. Then you'll wake up one day and decide this column in The Wheel is the best place to get everything off your chest.
To my Emory freshmen friends: remember when I said Patrick was my best friend in high school? He considers me his fourth best friend. I don't know why I lied about that. And Greg, remember the super hot girl I showed you with the massive cleavage? I didn't actually date her. I've never even thought about it. She's my sister for god's sake. I only know she's hot because that's what all my friends have talked to me about since middle school. And to the Hannah I met at Maggie's my first weekend at Emory – I can't believe I told you my dog died the week before I got to school. I didn't even have a dog. My whole family hates them. We're all allergic. I thought you'd be sympathetic and hug me (don't you know I'm human, too?), and I could lie and tell my friends you gave me a hand job in the bathroom. Yes, there's something wrong with me, but I assure you, my fake dog is fine.
Listen, freshmen, make friends with everyone. Except for the people who notoriously post in the Class of 2018 Facebook Group. Do not befriend those people. How dare they try and engage in the community around them! And for all of you who consistently post annoying comments in that page, good luck making friends. Everyone in your class already hates you. You should transfer to a different school. This is a good time to do it. According to Forbes, there are at least 650 better ones.
Let's talk about this, Emory. It's time we embrace the fact that no one knows who we are. Let them think we go to Embry-Riddle. They're ranked 502nd after all.
"I go to Emory."
"Embry-Riddle?"
"Roger that!"
Our real Forbes ranking comes back in 2015.
So let's get good grades this semester. Let's do whatever it takes. Let's make a pact to cheat on our tests. Hell, I've been cheating my way through this place the last three years. (For any teacher reading this, I'm 100% joking.) I'm 100% serious, guys, I'm a cheater! (Again, joking.) I'm totally not joking. Let's get those 3.7's together. And to all of you upper classmen who still have a 4.0 – go to hell. We know who you are. We hate you. We've hated you since you asked, "who else loves learning?" in your class' Facebook page.
As we all know, and as freshmen will soon discover, these years go by way too fast. We need to take advantage of them. We need to make bad decisions. We need to consistently sneak into the DUC. We need to stop paying at Cox. We need to tell Abby Esthers how we feel about her. We need to introduce ourselves to Abby Esthers. We need to steal more ice cream bars from Zaya. Maybe Abby likes ice cream. Do you, Abby? Do you like ice cream? You know who used to love ice cream? T.J. He was my dog.
- By Tony Walner
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