Goldifrosh and the Three Fuckboys

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Gather round the hearth children, and listen to the story of a tale of woe. For university is a scary place, filled with new experiences and crying after getting said new experiences finished with after 2 minutes. The following is a tale for those who dare to think that they can tackle all that Queen’s has at once. Rest assured that all you shall hear henceforth is true. I mean I saw the whole thing happening. Seriously, who would just go and lie under an anonymous pseudonym? Behold, the story of Goldifrosh and the Three Fuckboys.

Once upon a time there was a generic frosh from Oakville, with hair as fair as gold. Though her true name was Maddy or Sarah or Emily or Katie or something, she was known to her floor as Goldifrosh. Upon reaching Queen’s she was astounded by its beauty. “What a beautiful city!” she said, having never been North of Princess and still thinking Brock street was far. “How lovely the streets and houses are!” she said, having never entered a house or noticed the broken solo cups/glass shards around her. “What lovely weather!” she exclaimed at the pier, though it was still August. 

As Goldifrosh went out night after night during Frosh Week, she found herself loving Queen’s more and more. After her first week of lectures consisting of syllabus overview, she felt as though Queen’s couldn’t get any better. But alas! This is a cautionary tale, so Goldifrosh’s contentment didn’t last forever. For after every week comes the weekend, and this weekend was one that Goldifrosh was particularly excited about. Her brother, Goldigael, had given her the address of three keggers going on that Friday night, and Goldifrosh was determined to find the best one. Indeed, her Instagram account relied on it. So, with a stomach filled with Mike’s Hard Lemonade and courage, she set off to find the greatest kegger in Kingston.

She began at a kegger at Brock and William, and having tilted beforehand, was let in easily with a quick Sharpie ‘X’ on the hand. However, she found herself seeing very few people. Indeed, the kegger had barely begun! “This is too small!” She exclaimed, and left after drinking as much beer as she could. Goldifrosh then found herself on Aberdeen Street, surrounded by students to her left and her right. People had red solo cups, beer bottles, and Palm Bays everywhere, socializing and/or shoving their tongues down each other’s throats. “This is too big!” said Goldifrosh overwhelmed. She wouldn’t be ready for Homecoming for another two months. Finally, she arrived at another house party at Albert and Earl, and was delighted with what she saw: friendly faces talking and laughing, while singing the entire Nickleback discography. “This is just right!” She proclaimed, climbing over a small hill of jackets that had fallen off a railing. 

After having a fun time and drinking more, she found herself talking with three fuckboys, whom had all taken interest into her. She first talked with a guy named James, who illustrated his love of organic chemistry and tried to learn all about her. “Not douchey enough!” She exclaimed, and left him. She then talked with a guy named Max, who corrected her every time she didn’t call him Maximilian. After talking for a few minutes arguing about Commerce rankings and bragging about his spot at 350 out of 475, she thought “Too douchey!”. Finally, she met a guy named Rob, who, while complaining about people who are from Mississauga claiming to be from Toronto, also asked her disinterestedly about how she liked Queen’s. “This is just right!” she thought, leaving the party with him to experience her first of many disappointing sexual interactions at Queen’s.

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