Dear Jay: Hopkins Advice Column

Q: Dear Jay,

I’ve really been struggling in my classes this semester. I’m on the verge of failing Calc and Physics, and I really need a way to get my grades back up. Any tips?

Please help,

Nerdy Mouthbreather

A:Dear Nerdy Mouthbreather,

I’m not mad, just disappointed. You’ve been spending too much time on that phone and getting wild on the weekends. If you want to become a doctor like Jimmy, then you need to get your shit together. Your brother worked his ass off at Harvard, and I’m not paying $54,000 per year for you to get a participation trophy and an STD. Don’t be sorry, be better.




Q: Dear Jay,

I locked eyes with this hottie in Gen Chem lecture the other day. The eye contact lasted for all of 2 seconds. She might have just been staring off into the distance, but our souls forged a connection. Do I have a chance with her?



A: Dearest Loverboy18,

This is exactly what you must do: Go to Hop Deli and order 227 subs. After consuming every last one, use the toothpicks to fashion a hot sculpture of your lover’s face. Present it to her the next day in lecture in front of the entire class. Once you’ve won her over, set the sculpture on fire and watch the sparks fly 😉

Best of luck,


WARNING: If you deviate from this plan at all, you will die a virgin.


Q: Dear Jay,

A bunch of my hot, skinny, blonde sorority friends and I wanted to go to Italy for Spring break, but we’re scared shitless about coronavirus. We heard it makes you ugly, or worse… a brunette. Do you have any hot recs for where we should go instead?



A: Dear Hoe,

First thing you want to do is get on the I-83 and ride that shit south until you hit the 295. Take the 295 and get off at exit 38. Once you see the crooked tree that bears phallic fruit, hang a right and go all the way to Hooterville. If you pass a tap-dancing bear, you’ve gone too far. After about 3 hours, you will encounter a small boy hitchhiking. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES are you to slow down or acknowledge him in any way. Avoid direct eye contact and pray to Jesus until he disappears in your rear view mirror. Two miles down there’s a small dirt road on your left that leads to my uncle’s log cabin with a sign that reads: Uncle Ernie’s Hot Tub Emporium. It’s the perfect place for a sexy pizza party with your sorority friends… and my uncle. 

Have fun!



Q: Dear Jay,

I have a huge problem. Every time I walk into Gilman and sit in one of those orange chairs in the atrium, I get SO uncontrollably horny. I lose track of time, black out, and go into a horny fugue state that only ends when I wake up in the President’s fountain 48 hours later. This is starting to interfere with my personal friendships with the HopCops. What can I do to stave off these primal urges?


Hopelessly Horny

A: Dear Hopelessly Horny,

In the year 1877 I was baselessly accused by local Baltimore authorities of witchcraft. In retaliation I enchanted the Gilman seal with untold power to make the descendants of my accusers oh so horny when they pass it by. To break the curse, you must follow these steps: 

Slay the Blue Jay mascot and drain its blood over a weeping pre-med at 2:39 AM on the Brody Terrace. Next, steal the tears of the weeping pre-med and mix them with the ashes of Ira Remsen. Wipe the mixture across the Gilman seal in the shape of a pentagram and thrice chant “Forever a Blue Jay! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Hop!”

Hope this helps!


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