No, that’s not envy on the passersby’s faces when they look at your crimson sweatshirt. It’s the look of deep, disgusted judgment as they are decoding you as either A) a spoiled rich kid, B) a minority, C) a complete douchebag, or D) all of the above.

HOW TO IDENTIFY: In a remote village in Zambia, spending more time regretting the decision and calling National Geographic to get more publicity (for better chances at grad school) than working to better the non-profit AIDS clinic he started in a futile effort to win the Rhodes Scholarship.

 

 Fuckable Factor: What's up Beacon Hill 02144. The 29 billion dollar endowment is an indication of ego size, but not penis size, and will still not get you laid by Northeastern, Simmons, and BC girls. Odds of getting any kind of action (study group induced or not) are slightly higher if you go visit your prep school friends in Princeton or Hanover. So go jackoff in your cahr in hahvard yahrd - OGT



It caused quite a quarrel with Father and Mother when you announced you were settling for Harvard but luckily Essie Mae kept enough sherry coming that the argument soon gave way to a delightful discussion about everyone's favorite Henry James novel. You're not sure if it's the sweater vests or your untamed passion for the films of Merchant/Ivory, but you've suspected that you were gay since long before an eight-year-old you starred as both the male and female leads in the Pingree Day School's musical production of Wuthering Heights. You wonder if you should become a doctor, a lawyer, or both. – Turbo