All calls subject to editing and truncation. Not all calls
will be run. Reporter reserves the right to publish all
calls in any format.
Tuesday, 6:11 p.m.
I just found a picture of my dad smoking hookah
on Facebook, and I’ve decided to never smoke
hookah again.
Tuesday, 11:05 p.m.
Hey Rings, I have a problem. There’s a
big fence by Golisano, and I can’t play
on the swing sets anymore. Could you
fix this please?
Wednesday, 2:21 a.m.
So I’m up really late, working on this stupid project, and the
only memory that has me keep going is that this weekend I tried
minnow shots. You grab a live minnow and put it in a shot glass
and put some really cheap vodka on top of it and down it, so it’s
swimming in your stomach. I took a couple of those, and I didn’t
see any skeletons in my poo, so I guess everything’s okay.
Friday, 11:32 p.m.
RIT Rings, I think I’m stuck in
a dryer! I don’t know what
to do. I’m a little scared,
and all these people are
laughing at me.
Saturday, 3:50 a.m.
Yo, what’s up, Rings? Check out how
lame this is: I’m roasting [delicious]
mini-marshmallows on the tip of my
knife with a cigarette lighter.
Sunday, 2:19 a.m.
So, oh my God, it’s quiet hours.
I’m in my room, and me and my
roommates are scared because
there’s a panda outside my
door, scratching on it, whispering
my name. It’s [quite]
creepy. Oh my [angry] God! Oh
God, oh God!
Monday, 1:57 p.m.
Hey Rings, these are
some people in Building
8, floor 3. We have
been studying calculus
for three or four hours
now, because our final
is in four hours. We are
making paper airplanes
and throwing them off
the edge. It’s a pretty
good time.
Monday, 2:10 p.m.
Hey Rings, I’m on the second floor of
Building 8, and I just got hit in the head
with a [pointy] paper airplane. What the
[fire and brimstone] are these people on
the third floor doing? They’re [upsetting
me]. Yeah, the back of my head hurts.
Monday, 2:54 p.m.
What the [profanity]? We pay
$36,000 for tuition here, or whatever,
and every bathroom I go to
in this place has single-ply toilet
paper. I am tired of wiping my
[bottom] and having my finger go
[like a proctologist].
Wednesday, 3:39 a.m.
What do you call four bullfighters in quicksand? Quatro sinko!
Tuesday, 4:45 p.m.
Hey Rings, it’s me. I just want you to know that I hate Manhattan.
I hate everything about it. God bless you, New York.
Dial 585.672.4840
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