"I can't believe a college as politically and religiously conservative as Pepperhill would select you to be their first lesbian Artist in Residence," said Professor Daria Morgendorffer to her longtime companion Jane Lane as the two women sipped java mochas in the luxury of Pepperhill University's café.

"Tell me about it," said Jane, adjusting her coffee mug while effortlessly sketching an anatomically correct portrait of Monique, her latest significant other. "if only a single one of my students had the slightest ounce of talent or God forbid the self-discipline to put down an overflowing red Dixie cup for a couple of nights, I'd actually find my position to be an honor."

"You know," Daria snarked as she leafed through Pepperhill's literary curriculum's newest addition, a sea green pamphlet of prose with a black and white photo of a modestly attractive Latina on the cover entitled Revenge of the Lawn, "I believe it was Richard Brautigan who once quipped, 'I don't care how smart these guys are, I'm bored' while himself serving as Artist in Residence at Cal Tech. Maybe if he had taken a week off and came here, he'd realize how privileged he was all along. And maybe he would have killed himself sooner."

"How's your side gig as advisor of the Peppermill coming along, Daria?"

"Well, as much as I hate censorship of the arts, I'm beginning to fear I might have to finally step in and hinder somebody else's creative freedom every time I read another issue's sex column. Does this guy have anything more enlightening to write about than boasts of his latest conquests?"

"Is that so," murmured Jane. "Who would have thunk that fifteen years after graduation, we'd perpetually still be in high school? Has nothing changed?"

The café's hefty television blared from above their table. "Sounds like no mews is good mews! History's first cat meme found inside the Great Sphinx at Giza, tonight on Sick Sad World!"

"Good God, that show went downhill after we graduated," remarked Daria.