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Dear future housing lottery number,

I’m but a lowly first-year, so I’ve only heard rumors of your notoriety. Based on what I’ve heard, your presence seems to cause heaps of unwelcome drama and strife.

You and your roommate when you get a bad lottery number.

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I’m writing to you in advance in an attempt to get on better terms, so when we finally meet you’ll boast a nice, low number.

I’ll really do anything to make you happy. Want to be swiped into JJ’s? I gotchu with my 19 meals a week. Being sexiled by your roommate? I’ve got plenty of room on my floor – or, actually, you can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor. Whatever you want – really. 
I hope I’m not asking too much of you. I mean, I’m really just trying to live in McBain. You should be able to get me that much, right? 


Basically, half of the sophomore class lives there anyway. Show some compassion and grant me just this one request. And even if I end up getting the worst lottery number, I can still end up in Plimpton, which is something. #ThankYouGuaranteedHousing

There’s really no telling what form you will take come March 21st. In the meantime, I guess all I can do is keep praying and sacrificing JJ’s at the shrine I built for you in my dorm room. 


See you soon,



open letter housing the shaft lottery number
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