An open letter to the girl chewing Fershire Farms baby-cut carrots in the library

Anushka Walia

It’s perfect here. The lightbulbs are soft white and fluorescent, both environmentally conscious and migraine-friendly. The plush leatherback is exactly 9 inches off the floor with a back angled at 87 degrees - an ergonomic masterpiece, as I learned from my freshman seminar on seating furniture. Plus, I’m precisely the ideal distance from that hot hipster who once said I had a cute sneeze so it doesn't seem like I’ve been stalking him since fall break (I haven’t - it’s been much longer than that). I’ve been trying to find a spot like this ever since Yale law school became a way too-real reminder of my now distant aspiration to become a state senator, which I was sadly forced to abandon after History of Guam decimated my GPA. 

You have no idea what I’ve been through, so let me walk you through it: I drag myself out of bed after a night of regrettable decisions, gulp down last Thursday’s Starbucks, head over to the library, and proceed to spend the next 20 minutes looking for a place to sit until I stumble upon this gem, and realize that in my enthusiasm, I’ve forgotten my laptop, notebook, pens - basically everything I need to write an essay. So I walk all the way back to my off-campus apartment  (in the rain, mind you, so my hair now has it’s own zip code) during which I step on a used condom and barely dodge that Trump supporter I accidentally fucked 2 weeks ago who clearly can’t take a hint. 

I get back, slightly traumatized, but the venti triple-shot soy caramel macchiato is rushing through my veins, my laptop’s at a staggering 97%, and I’m finally ready to start my six page paper for Cybersecurity on Mars that was due 4 hours ago. But then chomp chomp chomp Chomp CHOMP. Fucking fershire farms. I’m trying to think of aliens and ransomware, but all I can focus on is goddamn chlorinated baby carrots being ground into an orange mush. Couldn't pick a more obnoxiously loud food, could you? 

I hope the beta-carotene's worth it, asshole, because thanks to you, I can't Woads tonight. Not like I would have done shit anyways, but at least now I’ve got someone to blame. 


Yale Rumpus