THE VOICEBOX Vol 45 Issue 23

Look for the Voicebox on Tuesday afternoons in the Birch cafeteria, to anonymously “voice” your “opinion” on any “topic.” Introverted alternatives include emailing your opinion to, or texting (778) 886-5070.

“My tea’s gone cold, I’m wondering why.”

It’s a terrible thing, but I hear you. I have this terrible penchant for not being able to finish my cup of fucking tea! I go over to someone’s house and they’re all “Vanilla rooibos or peppermint?” and I’m like “Duh, Earl Grey” and they go all the fuck out of their way and make me a nice fresh cup of tea, and then I get so wrapped up in talking about myself, or compulsively checking my Instagram, that it’s time for me to go home and there’s a full cup of tea unsipped! Worst. So wasteful and shameful. Hanging out with my sister is even worse. That woman has literally 100 types of tea, not even counting "fusions" of various teas mixed together. As if not drinking the tea I’ll eventually pick isn’t bad enough, I’m also the world’s most indecisive person, so when it’s tea time with sister, she has to endure me picking and selecting via a "tea battle" in which I eliminate flavours, tournament style, always leading to the same result.

“I just spent $539 in one day. Now what do I do?”

I’m the wrong person to ask given that yesterday I dropped $100 on used clothing (but who was I to say no to some diva H&M Versace shorts that’ll guarantee my spot as most tricked-out wigger gangster at the pride parade!?). I digress. As students, we should probably do our best not to blow our way through our student loans or parents’ handouts.

“Can you give me some advice for getting a summer job?”

That completely depends on what type of employment you’re seeking. If you're a female, I'd suggest you get a job at Aritzia and work as a bartender at night so that you can never have a free moment ALL summer, and barely have enough money to scrape through one semester. If you’re a young man, I’d highly recommend spending a scenic summer on the streets of Vancouver in a pair of spiked Unif penny loafers trolling around for a nice rich sugar daddy to take you under his wing and pay your way through the remainder of your degree! What’s that? You’re not gay? All the better! Then you have an excuse to not perform sexual favours for him. “Oh, hey Jerry, yeah, thanks for paying my tuition and taking me to Milan, but actually, I prefer the company of women.” No, but really though, I guess just take up a job with the Parks Board or the pool, or move to Alberta and hate your life working on the oil rigs or some shit. I can’t actually tell you to become a prostitute, because then I’ll have Aramark all mad at me again.

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