Some of you may recall a promise I made to my readers. Here’s the thing, though: I never made no promises to nobody. You’re not my spawn, nor am I your father. I don’t make promises to your kind. Good riddance!

But I did promise one person, a special person, my absolute derivative, that I would complete this list tonight. Shout out to you, dawg, ma boo boo, love you like old school. All of you cretins have him to thank.

In order to prepare yourself for the coming firestorm of insultingly useful information, temper your soul in the fires of Part 1, Irksome URI Mainstays 10 through 6.

I’m not saying this again because I’m some sort of bovine meathead operating solely on pure backhair testosterone protein shakes and a primitive brain-stem. I’m saying this again because I assume half of you will become offended in some way by part 1, and by your own erroneous sadistic nature wish to suffer the ultra-nasty sting of my flagellant whip upon your delicate constitution.

Flagellant whip: chic, if not more so, than UGGs. So in season.

Oh, how could I call out those stupid slackliners? Those slower-than-fucking-continental-drift library renovators? OH, WOE IS ME!

FUCK YOU.

5. Dorms in the Ghetto: circa 1958 to 1966

NINETEEN-FIFTY-EIGHT TO NINETEEN-SIXTY-SIX.

Whoa, Nelly.  I figured I’d place problem number-fucking-one smack dab in the middle of your face, you know, italicized in the damn heading.  And “circa” is a Latin word.  If I’m too lazy to hyperlink the Wikipedia article for it, then you obviously lack the spark of learning I seek, and in that case, get the hell out of Dodge.

I tried taking my own picture, until my camera was swatted from my hands and trampled by flock of anthropomorphs.

The dilapidated block of withering dorms I call the ghetto is made up of several structures that are probably older and loved less than yo mom. It includes Dorr, Aldrich, Hopkins, Burnside, Browning, Gorham, Ellery, and whatever no one cares. They’re all roughly yo mom’s age or older, built between 1966 and 1971, and contain 4-room suites.

A suite is basically a nice way of throwing 8 people into 4 rooms to share one functioning bathroom with a fucking drop-ceiling above the shower.

The toilets clog by the whims of the air pressure at the time.  And no one gives a fuck about cleaning them.