St Andrews Confessions: The good, the bad and the disgusting

In order to get the secret that’s burning a hole in your soul out in the open, you message St Andrews Confessions and our very own Gretchen Wieners, whose inbox is full of scandals, reposts it for you anonymously. But here’s the thing, Anonymous Attention Seekers, the posts may be anonymous but the messages sure as hell aren’t. Your picture and name are right above your deep dark confession. Whoever runs this page is sitting on a steamy vat of blackmail waiting for the opportune moment to tip it over and ruin your life.

Moral of the story: If you’re planning on running for political office or have a reputation to protect, keep your secrets in your diary.

The confessions posted on this page can be divided into four categories:

The God-I-really-hope-you-made-this-ups: When you read them you are either too disgusted or appalled to laugh. You hope they left their Facebook open and one of their not-so-mature friends decided to have some fun, or they decided to drunkenly invent something to make the rest of the student body cringe.

Exhibit A: I fingered a girl so hard up her ass that she shit on me (Seriously?! NO ONE WANTS TO KNOW!)

Exhibit B: I used to have a crush on my cousin (Though Exhibit B is my personal favorite, I hope it isn’t true for genetic reasons).

Exhibit C: I have gone two months at St. Andrews without washing my sheets and sometimes they itch. (If your sheets caught fire would you finally be inclined to throw some water on them? Probably not.)

The call-night-line-pleases: Some people have decided that the “St. Andrews Confessions” page is the perfect place to share their increasingly depressive thoughts. They are just plain concerning and tend the ruin the mood for the actually funny ones.

Exhibit A: I am scared that I will be alone forever…not in a St. Andrews way, but in a big way. (Thanks, ruined my morning.)

Exhibit B: In the middle of tutorials I watch the sea and dream about sailing away (I really hope you mean you’re interested in joining Sailing Society, not disappearing into the sunset and getting lost at sea…)

Exhibit C: Every time we go over work that I was meant to have done for a tutorial, I feel like I did it wrong, and then I feel stupid, and then I want to drop out and then I get over it! (As much as we appreciate the exclamation point and effort to seem carefree in the last quarter of your run-on sentence, the first 3/4 were enough to dampen my mood).

The who-gives-a-s!@#s: Unfortunately the most abundant type of post on the site. If you’re ever having trouble sleeping, I suggest reading these posts.

Exhibit A: My red trousers are actually from Gap. (Were you claiming they were Armani?)

Exhibit B: I have 2097 words for my 2000 word essay. (*yawn*)

Exhibit C: I take ‘bathroom breaks’ during tutorials and stand in the hallway and count to 600. (Wow…)

And finally, the wow-finally-an-actual-funny-ones: Though few and far between, these posts actually make reading all these confessions a worthwhile form of procrastination.

Exhibit A: Half of my underwear belongs to my mom. (The sexy half?)

Exhibit B: My 300 pound cousin and I have a mashed potato eating contest every Thanksgiving…he gets really frustrated when I win, but I mostly stuff them all into my napkin in order to see how much he can physically eat. (Joker.)

Exhibit C: I have a special face that I put on when I look in the mirror. I like to think of her as my badass alter-ego. And then I remember that I mismatched my socks on purpose and am brought back to reality. (You had me at badass alter-ego.)

If you feel like sifting through the rocks to reach such gems, it can be well worth the trouble.