If you’re gonna stereotype, at least get it right

When we saw that Thought Catalog ran a piece called “Five Kinds of People You Will Find At Your Liberal Arts College” we spit out our bubble tea in a scramble to read what witty insights the article would hold.

It was a load of bull.

“The Goth,” really?! And to think we ruined our California rolls over that piece of garbage… Pathetic.

As much as we hate stereotypes, we feel a need to set TC straight.

The Five Kinds of People You Will Find At Your Liberal Arts College (in the ‘Cac)

The Masshole

Hails from just-outside-Boston, Rhode Island, and some parts of Connecticut. Says “the city” and means B(ean)- town. Plans to name their firstborn Neil and bury his umbilical cord under Fenway. Unhealthy need to sit in Foxboro snow to watch Brady’s chin get cleftier. Is from County Cork… because their parents couldn’t name any other counties when they did their Ellis Island project in 5th grade. Likely had a uniform in high school, but may have attended one of Massachusetts’ public  schools in which they undoubtedly learned how to draw a hand turkey on the sections of the MCAS that didn’t actually count as well as…well, nothing. Knew Mitt Romney when he was moderate. Knows Mike’s makes the best cannolis (leave the gun.)

The best will still be authentic meatball sub eating bird- flippers at the end of four years…the rest will become bankers.  Wicked good buds!



Non- athletic regular people get at us!

“Do you play a sport?”


*awkward silence*

“What did you play in high school?”


That’s right, this guy/ girl plays JV buck the system. You might find them in the gym, but really they could be anywhere and everywhere at the same time. Unpredictable as a pick- up game of Mario Kart, they eat with different people at dinner 7 days in a row. WHAT?!

Stayyyyyyy beautiful baby.

 That Guy

As in “Don’t be…” ( but if you’re from New Hampshire we can’t really tell you what to do.) Any party he attends is where furniture goes to die. No bathroom no problem, just pop open that mail slot. Nipple piercing no more, it got in the way of late- night slip and sliding off the top of high places in a trail of his own puke. Needs a haircut, or maybe just hair.Doesn’t remember getting his tattoos, doesn’t know about the one on the bottom of his left butt cheek, and definitely doesn’t know that that Chinese character means “pregnant” not “courage.” D3 sport? Maybe. You’ll know which one by the shape of his tan lines when shirts- off- o- clock rolls around. Keep tabs on him via smupload (sloppy mobile upload) if you want to know what happened to that window.

Do you know the early- morning staff at the nearest hospital by name? You’re getting close.

Have you made out with the nursing station intern? If yes, then you’re THAT GUY.

The Skier

You either are or you aren’t. This really shouldn’t be a category, but there’s just no in between. You’re either from America’s funny hat and own some shares in Aspen or you’re pizza- slicing your way down the bunny slope like you’re in a Mary- Kate and Ashley movie.

The only people with identical FB albums after winter and spring break. Disappear for odd periods of time. May or may not be dealing drugs. Owns a private jet? Nah just a sick pair of skis.

Are YOU legit? Hardly. The reflection in our goggles never lies…


 Political view: frigidity. Her pearls are just as cold when she takes them off at night as when she puts them on in the morning…false?! Good job. We were testing you—she never takes them off. Don’t say hi. Don’t get caught looking at her. Don’t even think about touching her. Wait until she’s drunk, she’ll come to you. What do you mean she called you the wrong name? That’s your name now, go with it. GO WITH IT.

You can catch her tweeting at nescacbitch. Or in the dining hall making snide remarks that will inevitably lead any girl in her proximity to adopt an eating disorder. Majoring in Art History, Blair Waldorf, white wine, and prescription drugs…

Therapy and the skeletons in her prep school closet not included.

Of course, we don’t fit into any of these categories ourselves. We’re merely your smarter- than- average, down to earth kid. And we just got our nose pierced to prove it.


One thought on “If you’re gonna stereotype, at least get it right

  1. Pingback: True story: my cat wrote that song |

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