Elevators, Pork-gasms and Hashtags

So, as some of you know, I am a member of Penn State's "Problem Child" literary magazine. And as it turns out, sometimes we act like problem children. With the combination of sentimentalism (as the semester is drawing to a close) and sugar highs (due to a quantity of Teddy Grahams that is not healthy for any human being), we kind of went a little nuts. And by a little nuts, I mean this:

I don't know what's up with the sudden spike in Jenna Marbles Gifs. I'm just going through a time, don't judge!

But there a few valuable life lessons I learned at tonight's Problem Child meeting that I thought I would share with you lovely people of the world.

1) If you are enraged with a certain person and write an angry poem about him/her, do not submit that poem.
What you think is literary genius in the heat of the moment is actually a bunch of metaphorical "fuck you"s lumped together on a page. It doesn't matter how many literary references you make in this smattering on anger, it will still look petty. And ridiculous. Thankfully, this angry poem had no romance involved, or shit really would have gone down, and I would soon be the Taylor Swift of literary magazines.

That insult has the same sting as calling Johnny Depp un-sexy.

2) A pig can orgasm for 30 minutes.
That fact I already knew from The Oatmeal. Yoda I speak. But what I didn't know is that when certain friends suggests that I should write a poem about these pig orgasms, I would automatically combine the two words (which results in "porgasms"), and somehow my brain would translate that to "porkgasms."
And then I would burst out laughing for the next five minutes. No joke. Sometimes, I'm surprised I can go out and talk to people in the world.

3) One should not try to open a closing elevator door with one's bare hands.
So I have a fun story for you peeps. After the meeting was over, my friend and I got in the elevator like lazy people tend to do. As the door started to close, we saw the rest of the group approach us. I lunged towards the entrance, screaming out "noooooo!" And slammed my hands against the door. By this point, the door was almost 3/4 of the way shut, but I had equated that to times I've seen people use their arms to keep a fully open door from shutting. Not the same thing. As the group got closer, I pushed harder and harder, and my friend was flipping shit in the corner. But whils't the flipping out occurred, she was sensible enough to do what any normal person would do, and push the "door open" button. In my brain, however, I had attacked this door with my bare hands and allowed my friends to enter the elevator.

If it weren't for friends with common sense, I would have no fingers right now. Only now do I realize my life flashed before my eyes.

4) Real life hashtags are cool if you make the symbol with your hands.
So Twitter hashtags are getting stale, right? Actually, I never understood the appeal of Twitter. But hashtags have a whole new level of coolness when turned "interactive."
So how does one create such an elaborate symbol with one's hands?
Glad you asked.
Step one.
Put on some sunglasses. Because all cool people wear sunglasses.
Step two.
Make an anorexic peace sign:

Step three.
Get a really bossy anorexic peace sign and slam it right in front of the sissy peace sign.

Step four.
Make a "too cool for life" face as you proceed to hashtag everything. #Nolife #boredonathursday #problemchildren #livingupfreshmanyear #yolojkiwantalegitimatefuture #fuckingeverything #notinasexualway #speakingofwhichitispossibletomakesexualpoemsabouttoothbrushes #everything

Namaste.