Dear Flippy,

I’ve never written in before because the very thought of putting my words onto a permanent, extremely popular, and widely respected Internet forum gives me the heebie-jeebies, but I’m dealing with a big problem. I’ve been searching for the love of my life since I popped out of the womb (shoutout to my mom’s amazing doula Leaf), and yet every time I get close to hooking up with a frat guy in the bushes outside Tappa Tappa Keg, my raging commitment issues flare up. I’m sick of making excuses like “I have projectile diarrhea” and “You smell like my dad.”

But the thing is, Flippy, I think that the source of my flakiness is the lack of a reliable source of Ozzi containers at Sargent. For the past three months, I’ve been consistently betrayed by Sarge’s diminishing supply of plastic purple heaven-boxes. I walk in with my screenshotted symptom tracker from September 16, 2020 and an open mind, and then I get handed a DISPOSABLE PAPER BOX THAT CAN BARELY HOLD A SLICE OF HAM-AND-WATERMELON PIZZA. 

I need your advice. How am I supposed to become a teen mom before my 20th birthday next month if I can’t even trust a guy named Chad to impregnate me???

Love,

Sincerely,

Let’s totally hang out again!,

Unfortunate Trust Issues

Dear U.T.I.,

The solution to your problem is clear. You need to start going to Allison instead. Sure, it’s all the way on South campus, and yes, you’ll definitely have to hear finger snapping and “zip zap zop” emanating from a feral pack of theatre majors at least three times before even arriving at the Flame station, but I can promise you that you will receive the Ozzi that you crave.

Now, go forth and conquer your fears! Starting a family channel on YouTube is possible.

xoxo,

Flippy