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The Daily Wildcat

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The Daily Wildcat

The Daily Wildcat


Letters from Mallory Hawkins

As someone who can claim “”professional hater”” as a job description on her resume, it is a rare occasion to have little to no criticism for my fellow students and beings. So at the beginning of the semester when I saw a girl in Uggs paired with jorts and I did not immediately want to text my bff to talk shit (because as you know, only bitches text shit), I knew something was wrong. Up until that point, I prided myself on the ability to fill at least two burn book pages a day with catty remarks.

It didn’t matter how hard I tried to channel my inner Blair Waldorf and Regina George, it seemed as if I were becoming nice. It wasn’t until I spent a day running errands, Facebook stalking and actually paying attention to my peers that I realized the world is filled with copious amounts of people with terrible fashion senses, annoying quirks and bad manners — all of which are reasons enough to keep this hater hating. So this is for you, all of the people who:

Think it your civil duty to barricade an entire grocery store aisle with your cart while others are clearly trying to reach behind you. Why is that you insist on blocking the entire section of Oreos? Have you ever thought of blocking the stupid products that nobody cares about? Take canned meats, for example. Of course not; you would much rather inconvenience everyone while you sort through your coupons.   

Insist on sharing personal anecdotes related to every topic the professor covers. You should look into starting a blog or keeping a journal because nobody cares. You were raised by a herd of javelinas in the middle of the desert? Long hair, don’t care.

Have decided that in order to keep up with the times, there is no longer a need for a baby in the baby carriage, instead your motto is: “”First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes opening a joint Facebook account.”” The question here is, now that you are in a committed relationship, have you lost your identity? If so, count me out as a bride. I loathe the day that I have to sign every Facebook comment I leave so my sister isn’t creeped out by the possibility that my husband left a comment like “”Get it girl”” on her Spring Break photo.

Think it is an absolute sin for a male to express any form of compassion toward another male without the use of the phrase “”No homo.”” Did you really think that others would be concerned with your sexuality when you told your dad you loved him on the phone? If you are that worried about whether or not people think you’re gay, maybe you should consider cutting the fluorescent-colored bro tanks out of your wardrobe instead of trying to explain yourself. You know what they say, denial is the first step to acceptance.

Don’t do a final mirror check before leaving the house. Just because you didn’t see your terrible panty-line before you left does not mean it does not exist. It does, and it is grossing me out. The same goes for your camel toe. The makeup line across your chin isn’t doing you any good either. Please do yourself a favor and complete a once-over in the mirror before you step outside.

Know it all. Maybe I am just bitter, but every time you open your mouth to correct someone or to add something to the statement just made by the professor, I want to gauge your eyes out. If I have the courage to raise my hand in a 200-person lecture hall and answer a question, I do not need you to make me look like an asshole by trying to clarify what I meant to say.  

You are the reason I am able to do what I do best. Thank you from the bottom of my cold heart.

— Mallory Hawkins is a communication senior. She can be reached at

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