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ophistication isn’t exactly what comes to mind as I reflect on the student population of San Diego State. Don’t get me wrong—I have a huge appreciation for the campus and its faculty, but I’ve had enough. I’ve taken four long years to observe you all and, frankly, I’m confused.

Campus seems to be turning into its own microcosm where anything goes and everything appropriate or mannerful is ignored. Perhaps I’m the odd woman out and you’re all secretly ridiculing me in your glittery dresses and muscle tanks on Montezuma Road.

Yeah, most of us are in our 20s, so what? After turning 21, you can’t use the “young, wild and free” excuse much longer. After all, you’re the one buying the beer now.

My first order of business: 

Ladies—beautiful, blonde and tan ladies of campus. Why do I need to see your bras? I mean, I’m a lady myself, so I assume you’re wearing them (the rest of you I’ll address later), but you don’t have to show your knockers to prove it to me. I’ll try to be sympathetic and think back to a time when maybe you didn’t have a woman in your life during those experimental, teenage years to remind you that bras aren’t outerwear. Unfortunately, you kept receiving male attention for it (which is not the most profound) and figured it was permissible to walk around in public with only one layer between your breasts and the world. That’s a heartbreaking tale and now the rest of us have to pay for it.

Hey, I like to go with the flow, too, but as a woman I cannot let this stone go unturned. You’re making the rest of us look bad.

Here, I’ll be your campus foster mom: 

Don’t wear black bras under white tops. We can still see it.

Here’s a novel thought: wear a shirt that covers your bra.

There are specially made bras for racer-back tanks; invest in one.

Next up:

To the hippie friends with bare feet in lecture, we would all rather be barefoot on a beach instead of sitting in class. But while you’re in denial, I’m trying to cope with the stench. Seeing your feet on the seat cushion beside me creates visuals of bacteria seeping deep into the cushion upon which I might later place my freshly cleaned pants or bare thighs. I’ll list some of the bacteria making the trip: propionibacteria, Brevibacterium, staphylococcus, Micrococcaceae,  corynebacterium and Pityrosporum. You’re our only hope. You are the gatekeeper who can stop this bacterial penetration.

Listen to the wind giving you this suggestion:

Try those alien-like toed shoes. You’ll have that free feeling of being able to wiggle your toes without all the dirty looks … from me.

Now for something truly horrifying:

Fraternity boys in line for basketball tickets: Hi, I’m the meek woman standing in front of you, cringing as you narrate your weekend ménage a trois. Oy gevalt! Where do I begin? I guess at the simplest point possible—don’t talk about your sexual escapades publicly any louder than a whisper. I don’t want to hear this nonsense at 6 a.m. on a Monday. I haven’t even had breakfast yet and here you are making me nauseous. You might feel like a big shot with your brothers crowded around you like you’re some native storyteller, but guess what? When you get this excited about having sex, people assume it’s a rare occurrence for you.

Put your ear to your beer can and you’ll hear this tip:

Keep it to yourself or save it for a panic room where no one else will be able to hear you. Ever.

Do I really need to mention tales of how drunk you were two nights ago aren’t pleasant for your classmates to tune into? I’ll let this one slide.

Alright, that’s sufficient:

You could say it’s a bold move to put you all on blast in my first backpage piece, but I like to use my perspective for change, you know?

Look, you are my academic family for the next semester and I want you to be the best you can be. We’re already ranked as one of the top party schools, but do we have to look and behave like it during conservative, daytime hours? Beyond aesthetics, it’s really a matter of consideration and thinking about the people around you who have to endure your presence (and may still be in denial about having to attend a state school).

I challenge you to put a shirt and maybe even some shoes on and not talk indulgently of sex before I’m fully awake in the morning. Can you do this?  I’ll be watching and listening.