Photo | Hana Nikčević

Stick this where the Vic don’t shine

I’m baaaaaaaaack!!! After being fired for my controversial take on the Northrop Frye statue, I’ve been begged to come back and to take hold of the fiery reigns of the blazing chariot that is professional reviewing. Let me tell you—this hell-bound inferno is only stopping for bathroom emergencies. We’ll get the duty-free on the way back, Janis!”

First off, let’s cut the Bull South House Intramural Tennis! By selling these stickers, VUSAC has entered a war: the unwinnable war that is the sticker space on your laptop case. It’s unwinnable like my continued attempts to reclaim my old job at The Strand. The laptop lid is a very sacred space for the post-secondary student. This is a space where you can showcase your interests—not in a mode that forces you to converse or make eye contact with other human beings, but one that entertains the procrastinating studier who, for a brief moment, looks up from their problem set in the hopes of finding salvation, only to stare directly into the dark seedy depths of your Powerpuff Girls Mojo Jojo sticker.

This Vic sticker’s inaccurate representation of Old Vic will have to fight tooth and nail to claim a coveted spot on such a sacred space. This sticker will have to fight as hard as I did when I was removed from the Strand office by campus security for refusing to leave. Nothing can beat a MOJO JOJO sticker! NOTHING!

I digress. This sticker is a great way to inject your Vic pride across multiple mediums. You can put it on your notebooks, your bulletin boards, your new Nintendo 3DS, your dog, your friends, your limited edition Dragonball GT Piccolo action figure. Or you could be one of those people who puts their stickers directly onto their laptop because they like to watch the world burn. It is an irreversible process, as irreversible as the humiliation I felt as I was slowly and expertly dragged out of the Strand office. In doing so you permanently prevent the sticker from be removed without force. It would have to be removed with a certain level of precision and power that the campus security guards enacted when they tactically peeled my limp, quivering body from the building. Which leads me to my final point: they did not ask me to come back. I intercepted issue eight of The Strand before it made it to the printing press. I hacked the system like Angelina Jolie in Hackers, with fingerless gloves, rollerblades, tinted yellow runner’s glasses, and a crop top.

I will likely be hunted down by campus security for the rest of my life. On the run. Cursed. Tortured by the anguish of my past actions. For my final words I write:

Vic Stickers: I only saw them once. 5/6 campus security guards.