Baylor Senior Notices Aggie Friend Also Received ‘Class Ring’
Chad Bucko, a senior philosophy major at Baylor University, visited home over the past weekend. Like the football team, Bucko decided not to make the trip out to Kansas State. Bucko made plans to meet with his high school friend, Texas A&M senior finance major Phil Gutry, back at their hometown Applebee’s.
Upon arrival and after an awkward bro handshake, Bucko noticed a new accessory on Gutry’s finger. “It looked like Phil got his class ring since the last time I saw him,” said Bucko. “I recently got mine and was confused about why Baylor tried to turn it into an all-day event—it’s just a ring, isn’t it?”
Gutry, a fifth generation Aggie, was taken aback when Bucko showed off his Baylor Ring. “I was convinced that getting a ring during senior year was unique to A&M. Whenever Chad used words like ‘Valor,’ ‘Servanthood,’ and ‘Honor’ to describe his ring, it all sounded too familiar. I had to stop him when he started to ramble about the Baylor Network.”
Over the course of dinner, both Gutry and Bucko continued their millennial behaviors and separately scrolled through Instagram. Gutry, already sweating from anxiety, nearly fell out of his seat when he stumbled upon a picture of his friend, Barb Fellenkamp, striking a pose with her new Texas Tech class ring.
“I needed a new way to assert my superiority over the rest of my Big 12 friends,” said Gutry. As any Good Ag would do, Gutry reached for his back right pocket and pulled out his 12th Man Towel. Unfolding the towel and extending it towards Bucko’s face, Gutry, in a condescending tone, said, “Have I told you about the tradition of the 12th Man?” However, Gutry was quick to rescind his words when he remembered Bucko was a Seattle Seahawks fan.
—Good Bullogna
Her ascent to the highest social class began in first grade, when she consistently brought the coolest lunch—Lunchables—to school each day, toting them in her Vera Bradley lunchbox. Never mind the fact that she only had Lunchables because her parents were too busy working high-stress careers to make her anything else, and she only had a Vera Bradley lunchbox because her parents bought her name-brand items to distract from their lack of engagement in her everyday life; Good Bullonga turned out just fine, if you ignore her crippling abandonment issues.