The Fighting Snare Line
Hometown: HogwartsMajor/Year: Feminist and Gender Studies, 2027
Instrument: Snare
Previously Known As: "Think Gurt Ain't Got Girth?", "White Girl Shit"
AITA for Not Liking Doja Cat?
So, I (17 M) found myself in a musical showdown recently and let it slip that Doja Cat's tunes aren't exactly my cup of tea. Now, I'm wondering if I've stirred up more drama than necessary.
In the midst of a heated music chat, I casually dropped that Doja Cat's style doesn't hit the right notes for me. Well, let's just say it was met with some raised eyebrows and a hint of shade.
My friends, the devout Doja fans they are, weren't having it. They argued that I might be missing out on the whole vibe, claiming she's a musical goddess. While I respect their love for her, I can't help but think, isn't music all about personal taste?
Looking back, I'm wondering if I could have added a sprinkle of diplomacy to my opinion. Is it possible I rained on their Doja Cat parade a little too hard?
So, Reddit, AITA for not hopping on the Doja Cat bandwagon? I'm open to considering if there's a sassier yet classier way to drop my musical truth bombs without ruffling too many feathers.
Hometown: the chip aisle at Walmart Major/Year: Poetry, 2028
Instrument: Snare
Previously Known As: "Jalapeeno"
Beneath a spreading chestnut tree, the Cornell smithy stands. The smith, a mighty man is he, with large and sinewy hands.
Beneath that clocktower scaffolding, this budding Frenchman sways. Birds in the trees, flowers and the bees, he befits these golden days.
Beneath the daffodils of spring, the smithy's comrades lie. They live, they laugh, they learn, they listen. 'Round him, they're never shy.
Beneath that loving wing of his, within his inner sphere, He's the best damn smith you'll ever meet. He's bright, kind, and sincere.
Hometown: Rochelle’s HouseMajor/Year: Choreographed Dance, 2028
Instrument: Snare
Previously Known As: "All Radio, No Head"
Hey guys! I thought I would share this recipe with you: It’s one of my favorites! I make it pretty often when I come over to hang out, and people are always asking, so here it is! Share it with your family!
Kir’s Famous Cucumber Salad!
- 6 Persian Cucumbers, chilled and thinly sliced
- 4 Tablespoons Low Sodium Soy Sauce
- 3 Teaspoons Sprite (boiled)
- 4 Tablespoons Toasted Sesame Oil
- 2.5g Placenta (It’s ok if it’s not human — use whatever you have on hand! :))*
- 2 Teaspoons MSG
- 1-2 Garlic Cloves, minced
- 2 Teaspoons Blood of The Innocent (It’s honestly been hard to find since the national blood shortage, so I just ask Anand if he has any scabs for me to pick, and that usually does the trick!)
- 1 Tablespoon Rice Vinegar
- 2x2 inch piece of paper with your first and last name written in red ink (set aflame in a silver bowl, ashes collected and mixed with Avocado Oil to form a Thick and Viscous Black Paste.)
- 3x3 inch piece of paper with MY name (Kir Kraus) written with a paintbrush using the Paste from the previous step (shredded into small but sharp pieces using your finest blades.)
- Sesame Seeds
- Splash of Gurt
- Love
Combine all of the ingredients in a Tupperware, put the lid on, and shake! You can leave it in the fridge to marinate for a couple hours too, it really gets the flavors incorporated deeeep into those cukes. Don’t leave it uncovered too long though, we don’t want that Fresh blood oxidizing on us! I hope you try my recipe soon — It’s Life-Changing! Share it with your family!
*Recipe is no longer Vegan if using a substitute for Genuine Human Meat*
Hometown: BroadwayMajor/Year: Cartwheeling, 2029
Instrument: Snare
People are always asking me why I'm tap dancing across campus. I don't know... maybe because I'm not willing to get caught lacking when the casting directors finally decide to reveal themselves? They could be anywhere. They could be in my lecture. They could be at Okenshields. They could be disguised as one of those people asking me to take a survey on Ho Plaza. I'm not risking it.
That's why I never really stop. You call it "walking to class." I call it an entrance. You call it "going to the dining hall." I call it Act I. Every automatic door that opens for me is a cue, every crosswalk is choreography, and every staircase is an opportunity to show I've got range. Honestly, if you're not performing every second of every day, I don't know what your long-term plan is.
People keep saying, "Nobody's watching." That's exactly what someone who's watching would say. You're not gonna trick me into giving a mediocre performance just so some producer hiding behind a vending machine can write "lacks commitment" on their clipboard. Not happening.
Yeah, sometimes people stare. I choose to believe they're applauding internally. Sometimes I hear someone laugh. That's just audience engagement. One time I ate it in the middle of the Arts Quad and recovered fast enough to turn it into choreography. Standing ovation, probably. I didn't stick around to check because the scene was over.
Maybe one day they'll finally come up to me and say, "Congratulations, you've got the part." Maybe they won't. Either way, I'm not about to be remembered as the girl who missed her big break because she decided to walk normally for thirty seconds. That's the kind of mistake people regret forever.
Hometown: Gurt’s RoomMajor/Year: Ragebaiting, 2029
Instrument: Snare
Everybody wants to be a man until it's time to do what men do. They talk about discipline. They talk about the grind. They talk about waking up at 5 A.M., taking cold showers, and optimizing testosterone. Real men watch Boohbah.
You laugh because you've been conditioned to. Society tells you Boohbah is "for children." Society also told you seed oils were healthy. Think about that. Every morning I spend thirty uninterrupted minutes watching five brightly colored beings bounce around in complete silence. No phone. No distractions. Just vibration. Presence. Movement.
Tell me, when was the last time you were truly present? Exactly. You think Boohbah is nonsense because you haven't reached that level yet. You're still consuming "plot." You're still addicted to "dialogue." Weak mindset.
The Boohbahs don't need words. Lions don't explain why they're lions. That's why they're Boohbahs. Guys keep asking me how to become more confident. They think I'm going to recommend a book or a podcast. Wrong.
Watch Boohbah. Every day. Don't skip the purple one because it makes you "uncomfortable." That's your ego talking. The moment you stop resisting Boohbah is the moment you stop resisting greatness. That's the difference between boys...and men.
Hometown: The H*rn SectionMajor/Year: Potions, 2029
Instrument: Snare
A smoothie is a soup. It’s cold soup. That’s all it is. You can label it “fruit blend” if it helps you sleep at night, but structurally? It’s soup.
If you take anything, blend it down, and it’s in a bowl or a cup and you consume it with a spoon or just drink it, that’s soup. That’s already soup. The temperature doesn’t change what it is. That’s like saying ice isn’t water just because it’s behaving differently right now.
People always try to argue this like there’s some big rulebook I’m ignoring, but there isn’t. You already accept blended tomatoes as soup. You already accept chilled soups exist. So at that point it’s just picking and choosing based on what you’re emotionally comfortable with, not what makes sense.
And once you accept it’s soup, dipping stops being weird. That’s literally what soup is for. You dip things in it. You combine things with it. That’s the entire concept. So yes, I dip things in my smoothie sometimes. It’s not a bit. It’s just using it correctly.
Broccoli is the part everyone gets stuck on, but I don’t really understand why. It holds up better than half the fruit people are putting in there anyway. Strawberries turn into sadness immediately. Banana becomes texture confusion. Broccoli at least stays consistent.
People act like I’m doing something chaotic, but I’m just treating it like soup. If that feels wrong, that’s fine, but it probably just means you’ve been calling things the wrong names for a long time.