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Temporal, spatial, and interrelational passages from The Lyre 16’s team

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PHOTO: Juliana Manalo / The Peak

By: Clara Xu, SFU Student

The Lyre Mag, one of SFU’s longest current running undergraduate journals, published their 16th edition in October 2025. Operating out of the department of world languages and literatures (WLL), the “student-led literary journal” publishes annually, featuring undergraduate student work spanning “poetry, prose, translations, and visual art.” The Peak sat down with The Lyre 16’s editors-in-chief Isobel Sinclair and Callie, and editorial designer Yoona Charland, to discuss their experiences during the editing process.

The following interview has been edited for concision and clarity.

What type of work did you do for The Lyre? 

Isobel: Callie and I, as EICs, had meetings every week, planned what should be discussed in the meetings with the associate editors, and we made sure we were in line with the timeline we created at the beginning of the year.

Callie: I started out as an associate editor, which is like our reviewers, for all of our submissions. It was a nice intro into working with The Lyre. Basically, you go in there, they assign a piece, you review and give feedback for the piece, but it’s very community oriented, which I liked. When you actually go in with working with The Lyre, you work with a faculty liaison. We have Dr. María Barraza; she’s wonderful.

Yoona: As editorial designer, in the summer, I put the magazine together front-to-back and sourced images, and put in some of my own artwork if needed. And then Isobel and Callie gave their input. I think we went through four rounds of edits. We really wanted to execute our vision.

What was the inspiration for your theme, “Passage?”

I: For a while, we were trying to make the theme “bridging” work. We settled on “passage” after distilling it more.

C: We were looking back at old issues and the first five were completely different. It had a different logo that we noticed. Some of us weren’t sure what it was.

I: We looked at it and were like, “Is that a chicken?” It’s a lyre bird, which is a bird whose tail looks like a lyre instrument.

C: In the first edition, there was an explanation of, “What is a lyre?” — it can be a bird, it can be an instrument, but they wanted it to be up to your interpretation. I thought that was a nice core message that The Lyre is student-shaped, and it can be whatever you want it to be. 

I: And that we could remould it.

C: It was something we wanted to return to, as we were talking about our new logo design. As we were doing all that, we were really thinking of this experience with the passage of time and looking at how things have changed throughout the years.

Y: Since we’re in the world literature program, we were also thinking about how passage can have a lot to do with time, with physical passage like migration.

What was it like to work with multiple languages?

I: We’ve got a great team coming from the WLL department, and from hiring associate editors that know an additional language. 

C: This year was a really strong year for translations, since WLL brought back a translation theory course that hadn’t been taught in forever. We went into that class and were like, “Everyone here will have to submit a translation to The Lyre!” Translation is such a creative process because of how you choose the translated words. How close do you want to be to the source language? What are the creative decisions someone made to get to this translation?

Y: Speaking on the design side of it, it was just finding all of the fonts. I remember the first copy: the Cantonese font I used didn’t have all of the correct characters.

I: It’s not just making sure you have the correct translation; it’s also making sure that, when we have it in print, that it’s doing justice to the text and to the translation. That’s for all pieces that we have submitted, part of the design process isn’t just laying it out nicely, it’s also making sure that you are keeping all of the line breaks, and the layouts of everything that has been submitted, so that they retain the same intent.

What editing process do your submissions go through?

C: Everyone gets feedback, they’re heard even if they don’t get published. It’s like they have a sculpture, and the editors are collaborating to help chisel it into the same vision the writers have.

I: Once the associate editors have gone through a couple stages, then we compile everything into one big spreadsheet. We read them all out together, and discuss whether we feel they fit with the theme, if we enjoy them on a thematic or visual level. Then we whittle down our shortlist until it becomes the final list.

What impact do you wish for The Lyre to have on SFU undergraduate students, and on the SFU community?

C: We did an interview with the founders of The Lyre, Daniel Poirier. It’s cool to see how he went from EIC to being a creative writing instructor at Langara. 

I: It’s a sense of communication — connecting yourself with others, and connecting yourself with your own sense of self. 

What do you hope to see, or work towards, in The Lyre’s future?

Y: I’m continuing next year as EIC with Callie since Isobel’s graduated. Callie and I were talking about having copies of The Lyre in local libraries for free. 

C: I want to keep up the direction we had this year, since we made a lot of changes last year with the logo and cover.

I: More short fiction! Even if it’s just a little excerpt. Even if you’re working on something and just want to submit a couple pages of it.

If you had one piece of advice for the writers and artists of SFU, what would you tell them?

I: Submit! When we go through the submissions, even if it doesn’t get accepted, there was someone in that room that liked it. Keep trying if you don’t get in — you might get in next year.

Read The Lyre, including all previous issues, digitally at journals.lib.sfu.ca/index.php/lyre. You can also pick up a physical copy on the “fifth floor of the AQ in the corner closest to the Trottier Observatory. Prints are stored in the display case outside of AQ 5121.” For more information, please email [email protected] or visit their Instagram, @thelyremag.

Sam Wiebe says a career in the arts is possible

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PHOTO: Jamal Allad / The Peak

By: Maya Barillas Mohan, Staff Writer

Looking beyond the fog of midterms and assignments, a career in the arts is actually quite possible in misty Vancouver. A case in point is the SFU English department’s Writer-in-Residence (WiR) program, which bridges aspiring writers to published ones to provide a valuable source of insight and mentorship. The Peak reached out to distinguished author and 2023 WiR consultant Sam Wiebe to gain some wisdom on what it means to be an artist living in Vancouver. Having published over 10 novels, Wiebe tells us that the daunting concept of “career artist” dissolves into something tangible through effort.

When asked to define what a “career artist” is, Wiebe is not exclusive with who he considers an artist. He stresses that one can consider themselves an artist, as long as you continue to do it. Wiebe furthers that being an artist can mean getting paid for what you make, or just simply supporting it with a job outside of the arts. Acknowledging the accelerating social problems Vancouver conceals under its beautiful glassy exterior, Wiebe reminds me that Vancouver is “incredibly expensive.” He adds, “I don’t blame anyone who cannot survive on what an artist makes.” He incorporates issues like gentrification and income disparity into his work and composes books that he believes are “richer” for their reflection of these issues. 

Wiebe candidly shares that he has had “full-blown side gigs,” but is now primarily an artist, living off books and articles. He tells me that, with his first novel, he didn’t have an agent and was way out of his depth. When crediting his success as an artist at this current point in his career, Wiebe tells me that it begins with reading everything and putting in the effort.

“Most people don’t finish what they start, and that is the key thing.”

— Sam Wiebe

“Like, not only working to the end of the story, but having the courage to send it out. Saying OK, people might hate this, they might not like it, but it’s no longer mine.” In addition to having an agent, part of his commercial success is treating his work like a professional at a day job. Wiebe demystifies the “fabled artist” (someone who only works when inspiration strikes) by explaining his ethos like that of a “lunchpail worker”: he shows up in the morning, puts in the grunt work of writing and researching, and sustains his career.

Championing the use of resources like the library and archives, Wiebe urges students to attend conferences and appreciate what they have access to at SFU. He refers to resources, including things “out of your wheelhouse (or comfort zone),” as crucial to making art. Even well after starting out, Wiebe tells me he engages with media out of his comfort zone for his current project. The only way to get through something is to do it, and it doesn’t require fancy equipment, besides a computer and self–motivation. Wiebe refutes the assumptions made about students today, saying that it’s just as true that “people still love literature and the written word and are willing to put in the time.”

COMIC: It’s a plastic invasion!

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By: Maya Barillas Mohan

 

Celebrating Tamil Heritage Month in Canada

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By: Heidi Kwok, Staff Writer

Content warning: mention of genocide.

January 2026 marks the 10th anniversary of Tamil Heritage Month in Canada. A decade ago, its designation was passed unanimously in the House of Commons to “recognize the contributions that Tamil Canadians have made to Canadian society, the richness of the Tamil language and culture, and the importance of educating and reflecting upon Tamil heritage for future generations.” The period from mid-January to mid-February (or “Thai”as known in the Tamil calendar), in particular, was chosen due to its significance to the Tamil community, coinciding with Thai Pongal — a four-day harvest festival celebrating the Sun God, and farmers, along with ancient rituals, feasts, and the enjoyment of a boiled sweet rice known as pongal.

Tamil is a South Asian language spoken across southern India, Singapore, and Sri Lanka. It is one of the oldest surviving languages in the world, with an extensive archaeological and literary past stretching back over 2,000 years, and is currently spoken by over 70 million people. Since the 1940s, Canada has slowly become home to one of the largest Tamil diasporas in the world. In 1983, Tamil migrants to Canada increased substantially in the wake of ethnic persecution and genocide in Sri Lanka — still ongoing today — which then led to a civil war lasting just under three decades. 

This year’s theme is “Our land, our roots: Celebrating Tamil ancestral spaces and time.” To meaningfully connect with the diversity of ancient Tamil homelands, the regions of Tamil Eelam and Tamil Nadu were chosen as the focal point of this year’s celebration. While these areas aren’t representative of all origins and backgrounds,

the Tamil Heritage Month Council is calling on Tamil Canadians to reflect on the “deep connection between Tamil history, identity, and place — honouring where we come from and the lands we continue to build community on today.

Over on the east coast in Toronto, the month is marked by an opening ceremony, followed by an evening of cultural entertainment, a fashion week to showcase Tamil heritage styles, along with city hall reception to acknowledge Tamil youth community leaders. Pongal festivals are also held in Quebec, organized by regional Tamil Canadian grassroot organizations. Here in BC, the Vancouver Tamilians Society will be hosting a Pongal celebration on January 18, from 5:00 p.m.–11:00 p.m., at the Fraserview Banquet Hall at 8240 Fraser St. in Vancouver. For an entrance fee of $25, attendees can expect to be treated to cultural performances, traditional and contemporary Tamil dance, and live DJ music, as well as a special 18-course traditional Pongal feast. This is a great opportunity to learn more about Tamil culture, so don’t forget to check it out!

 

Opinions in Dialogue: Christmas markets

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Peak Web
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An illustration of the Christmas market in downtown Vancouver. The illustration showcases a festive scene, with blurry subjects. The scene is set at night-time.
ILLUSTRATION: Sonya Janeshewski / The Peak

By: Clara Xu, SFU Student, and Heidi Kwok, Staff Writer

Christmas markets are a hallmark of the festive season. A staple in countries like Germany and Austria, these open-air holiday markets are, unfortunately, few and far between in Western Canada. While much smaller and not as extravagant as its European counterparts,

Vancouver’s festive market tradition has been met with growing enthusiasm since the downtown debut at Jack Poole Plaza in 2010, leading to the opening of North Vancouver’s very own Shipyards Christmas Market at Lonsdale Quay

in hopes of hosting a market that is more accessible to single parents and low-income families. Two writers discuss their perspectives.

Clara: Where the Shipyards market really shines is dessert and drinks: they range from poffertjes, chimney cakes, brownies, giant cookies, maple taffy, and more. Their hot drink selection offered Christmas traditions like hot chocolate, apple cider, and mulled wine, in addition to chai and festive cocktails. They have a limited but classic Christmas repertoire of hot food, including pork hock, raclette, and schnitzel. Their shopping stands were fairly generic, selling locally made jewelry, crafts, and apparel. However, they have a fun variety of liquors and wines — my highlights include the iced apple cider and honey wine!

Heidi: The downtown Vancouver market offers a similar food scene, but with shorter queues and quicker service overall. For instance, buying a cup of glühwein took less than a minute downtown on a Friday evening compared to the endless lineups at the Shipyards market. There was also more variety in vendors, including European-style stalls selling everything from traditional handcrafted German Moravian stars to Eastern-European Matryoshka dolls, whereas the Shipyards hosted more locally made crafts sold by small businesses. 

Clara: The Shipyards market becomes very lively when it gets dark and the Christmas lights are more visible. But, if I have to point out its weaknesses, the market’s set-up creates thin corridors connecting various plaza areas that make it difficult to walk around — big crowds in these corridors can make it difficult for mobility aid users, or people with strollers, to traverse through.

Heidi: Despite going on a Friday evening, the downtown market, while bustling, did not feel too crowded. Compared to the Shipyards, stalls created a continuous “street wall,” giving visitors the impression of being immersed in a real Christmas village. The German-styled Erzgebirge Christmas Pyramid centrepiece, combined with the beautiful light displays, also provided more photo opportunities while making the downtown market feel like a scene from out of a storybook.

Clara: Entry is free to the Shipyards market! This makes this market perfect for a spur-of-the-moment trip or big groups to attend without breaking the wallet. The market is a couple minutes walk away from the SeaBus — perfect for students with a U-Pass. There are also various paid and free parking lots nearby.

Heidi: OK, I know the cost of admission is the main complaint literally everyone has about the downtown market, but hear me out: GET THE SEASON PASS! The early November 13 to 30 pass costs $15.99 and the full season pass costs $32.99. It beats having to buy a full price general admissions ticket at $21.99 before tax. 

Clara: To avoid long lineups at the Shipyards market, attend earlier in December, during the weekdays, or earlier in the day, as the market opens before noon. Make sure to try some hot cocoa or a snack when you visit the market stalls, the nearby Lonsdale Quay market, the Polygon Gallery, or the outdoor skate plaza. 

Heidi: The downtown market is definitely not a last-minute activity to kill time during the holidays, but it is nonetheless enjoyable if you plan ahead for cheaper admission to get the most out of your experience!

Ultimately, if you’re willing to shell out a few extra bucks for a more authentic, fairy tale-like festive atmosphere, with more manageable crowds (because trust me, lining up for 30 minutes in the freezing rain and cold is not fun), then the downmarket is for you. However, if you don’t mind waiting in longer lines in lieu of a steep admission fee, then the Shipyards market is worth it.

Fast fashion exploits the consumer

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Peak Web
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clothes hanging side by side.
PHOTO: Pascal Stöckmann / Unsplash

By: Noeka Nimmervoll, Staff Writer

There is a growing awareness among consumers that the fast fashion industry is exploitative to its workers and the environment. Of the 60 million garment workers employed in factories in countries like Bangladesh, less than 2% of workers earn a living wage. Beyond this blatant inequity, many of these workers are exposed to unsafe work conditions, excessively long work days, and gender-based harassment. The environmental impacts of fast fashion are no small sting, either. Annually, the industry produces 92 million tonnes of textile waste. If such wasteful trends prevail, there is a projected rise to 134 million tonnes of textile waste, and the industry’s global waste production will rise by 50%. These are the brutal realities of a worldwide industry that is deeply ingrained into our consumerist society.

Despite these concerning unethical facts that drive these companies, it may be difficult to break your personal shopping habits. It is impossible to deny the benefits of purchasing a clothing item that looks great and doesn’t break the bank. Convenience also goes a long way, with items delivered to your door in as little as a day. Have you considered, however, that this business model that exploits its workers is also exploiting you, the consumer?

When you shop, your brain releases dopamine, the reward chemical. This neurotransmitter results in that warm feeling of joy that makes you feel good, and incentivizes behaviours that stimulate its release. Sales boasting things like “50% OFF” or “CLEARANCE SALE” are particularly good at activating this chemical. Websites like Temu and Shein are notorious for using these tricks to keep your attention — and your money. 

Online shopping might make your crappy day better when it’s 9:00 p.m. and you find some gorgeous knits on Zara for only $12 (down from $38!). Zara, however, is an ethical triple whammy: not only does it exploit people and the environment, it is also on the Boycott, Divest, Sanction list due to its complicity in Israel’s genocide of the Palestinian people. 

Either way, the satisfaction derived from shopping seems to be short-lived. In the last 25 years, garments have increasingly been thrown away after fewer and fewer wears, and approximately 85% of all textile material made ends up in the landfill, just in the US, on an annual basis. These items do not satiate your appetite — they simply curb your hunger until your next hunt. Keep in mind fast fashion companies widely use synthetic materials, poor stitching, and manufacturing practices that focus on quantity. They do not care about the quality of the resulting product — only that you buy it.

At the end of the day, no matter the sale, you are not saving $7 — you are spending $43. When you buy from fast fashion companies, you trade your money for short-term dopamine and a plastic-lined hoodie that falls apart after three washes.

All the while, you’re lining the pockets of companies who treat their workers and the environment like crap. Nothing good comes out of these good-looking deals. 

Instead, it is important to partake in mindful shopping behaviour that suits your needs. In general, it would be nice to buy less, but in cases when you do need specific wardrobe garments, buy clothing made by sustainable brands. This is where learning about the brands that you buy from comes in real handy. Maybe do a clothing swap with your friends, or buy second-hand. And my all-time favourite: pick-up sewing as a hobby — it’s so helpful to mend clothing!

Analyzing portrayals of adolescence in At Least I’m Trying

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IMAGE: Courtesy of Tara Hodgson

By: Ashima Shukla, Staff Writer

Content warning: Brief mention of sex-trafficking

Tara Hodgson’s At Least I’m Trying follows Reese, a high-achieving student-athlete whose identity is built on being exceptional. Academically, athletically, socially — her parents demand perfection, and Reese does her best to deliver. Until she doesn’t. Set between a small town and the promise of freedom in Vancouver, the novel follows Reese’s unravelling, and how a predator grooms her into becoming a victim of a sex-trafficking ring. 

Hodgson’s prose is intense, confessional, and emotionally saturated, like Wattpad stories and Tumblr prose. And while some may find it superfluous, it does mirror the mode of expression many teens recognize. She uses it with urgency and conviction, accurately identifying something universal about teenagehood: the quiet panic of inadequacy, the impulse towards self-destruction, the longing to be seen and chosen. And yet, I found the novel didn’t do justice to the teenage experience, determined instead to discipline it. 

Like a slippery slope argument, it starts with very real emotions: Reese’s dissatisfaction with herself and her exhaustion in trying to fulfill her parents’ expectations. But with no clear inciting incident, she finds herself fighting off her “gut feelings” and seeking freedom in rebellion. Soon, every character, setting, and event pushes Reese towards a predetermined outcome. Drugs, alcohol, sexuality, and social media are framed through judgment-laden stereotypes: students using drugs become symbolic academic failures, the singular “party girl” becomes a moral warning, tattoos and kissing in public become shorthand for vileness. The hippie family brews homemade kombucha, and the English teacher can’t help but care too much.

Coming from an indie author and teacher from Alberta, who has worked with teenagers for over 15 years, this fear-driven storytelling relies on moral tropes that flatten complexity, and I am left wondering how many YA readers would resonate with them. Snapchat maps, anonymous Instagram gossip accounts, and provocative dancing on TikTok appear only as mechanisms of danger, stripped of the everyday boredom, and longing that actually define teen life online. 

Hodgson’s novel fails to capture the complex ways in which social media has become a constitutive environment for adolescence. Snapchat and TikTok are apps where identity, intimacy, and sociality are experienced and formed. Sure, they are spaces of visibility and surveillance but also of learning and creativity. And while Hodgson’s concerns are very real, what remains unexplored in this novel is the quieter and more persistent dangers of digital culture: how comparison shapes self-worth, how shame and FOMO have become drivers of conformity, how algorithms reward caricature-like performances that distort reality for those of us with still-developing prefrontal cortices, and with it, the ability to make well-thought out decisions. 

Reese’s interactions with social media are seen as reckless choices. In reality, she is just one of us, participating in the social media spheres where we are all surveilled, where the lines between fun and risk are blurred. Our reality is constantly mediated, and checking Snapchat maps, talking to strangers, or even online stalking is increasingly normalized. As Hodgson implies, digital literacy becomes essential. But when responsibility is individualized, the structural pressures that guide major plot points from the generational trauma behind parenting decisions to the intentional design of social media to the sociopolitical factors behind crime remain invisible. 

In contrast, the YA novels that still shape my imagination trust readers with ambiguity. They create narrative tension not via moral panic but through distance, in unreliable narration, speculative settings, or ethical complexity. Instead, At Least I’m Trying insists on its warning with such intensity that the space for interpretation where reflection and critical thinking may develop is closed off. For me, what it ultimately gestures towards, is the need for YA narratives that understand the nuances of social media as the terrain on and through which adolescence unfolds today, both its positives and negatives.

Pick a Colour by Souvankham Thammavongsa

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IMAGE: Courtesy of Knopf Canada

By: Heidi Kwok, Staff Writer

Pick a Colour is a fictionalized account of the Southeast Asian immigrant experience, written by Souvankham Thammavongsa, a Laotian Canadian author and poet who was born in a refugee camp in Thailand and raised in Toronto. The novel explores themes of power, class, and the invisibilization of migrant labour performed by gendered and racialized diasporas. Taking place over a single summer day, Thammavongsa introduces the reader to “Susan’s,” an unassuming nail salon toiled by workers, all of whom sport the same shoulder-length black hair, black clothing, and name tags embellished with the name “Susan.” Customers who visit Susan’s are told to “pick a colour,” and can expect to be in and out in under twenty minutes. Fussy walk-ins are placated with a two-for-one special — a manicure and pedicure — all for the price of just $10!

Despite kneeling from below to clean, shape, and polish, Thammavongsa expresses that real power lies not with the customer but with the worker

The one who wields the sharp instruments and keeps the secrets that will inevitably slip out of the client’s lips under the intimate setting. The author therefore subverts underlying assumptions about nail salon workers (or those employed in the service industry) as people to be pitied or underestimated. 

Told from a first-person perspective, we are quickly submerged in the lonely but content world of our protagonist, a former boxer who reluctantly trades her corner of the ring for a nail salon. Her name is Ning (but customers know her as Susan because according to her, it’s easier to pronounce). Ning is a closed-off, emotionally-guarded, and no-nonsense girlboss. Blunt and direct, she reads her clients with the same ease and intensity as she did with her boxing opponents, anticipating their every punch and swing. She deduces a person’s entire life story from the instant they inhabit her chair. Subtle shifts in weight or movement during a match; lines in the face, every crease, and wrinkle that needs the attention of a facial give away a person more than words can ever reveal. Yet, beneath Ning’s fortified exterior lies a compassionate soul and (cynical but nonetheless) a witty sense of humour. 

We witness a very human portrayal of how the protagonist grapples with the trauma and unrealistic expectations exacted by shaky relationships with her former partner, employer, boxing coach, coworkers, customers, and mother. While mostly character-driven, this book culminates in a story that is underpinned by a heart-arching exploration of the impacts of loneliness, absence, racism, and gender-based social norms on women. With this work, Thammavongsa further commentates on the perception of language capability as an indicator of class, belonging, and worth. Ning and her coworkers are frequently told by customers that their “English is so good.” This is a backhanded compliment that immigrants are all too familiar with. It suggests that people of colour aren’t capable of speaking the language fluently based solely on their skin colour, when in truth, the “Susans” have spoken English for years but choose to converse amongst themselves in their own language as a way of reasserting their own autonomy. As these Susans exchanged quick-fired gossip under the guise of workplace pleasantries in their mother tongues, the readers are left to re-evaluate run-of-the-mill nail salons as anything but unremarkable service providers, and see them as places of migrant autonomy and collectivism.

Planet SFU: Winter special

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ILLUSTRATION: Olivia Blackmore / The Peak

By: Veronica Richards, SFU student

On a snowy mountain, about 366 metres above sea level, a fascinating creature can be found. We’ve staked out the Burnaby Mountain campus of SFU for hours, bearing the frosty winds and refilling our narrator’s hot chocolate so he can continue to do the deep knockoff David Attenborough voice. This extraordinary species stands out against the seasonal scenery. In all of his glory, there he is: that one guy who wears shorts during winter. 

Watch as he confidently walks by, free from the burdens of gloves, scarves, toques, boots, and a warm drink. He does not concern himself with the dilemma of a winter coat, saying he is “used to the weather.” His fashion ranges from single-coloured t-shirts, branded t-shirts, golf shirts — and if he’s especially fancy — video game t-shirts. Don’t worry, we’ve got all our top scientists trying to figure out how these beings don’t catch a cold. Rumour has it — they sometimes wear a thin hoodie. 

Now, if you look to your left, you’ll see a polar bear. Yes, you heard me right. A polar bear. His name is Frosty. According to the shorts guy, he and Frosty have become best bros. They’ve bonded over their love of salmon sashimi, the outdoors, and university basketball. “Frosty would be a great player; he really has the height going for him!” our guy eagerly shares. We now witness the guy wearing shorts approaching Frosty. The shorts guy asserts his dominance with a little “hey dude” and raises his arm to dap the bear. Frosty enthusiastically returns the gesture, sending our guy stumbling. He quickly recovers, and tells our cameraman, “Don’t worry, we’re almost the same strength. I go to the gym a lot!” He is very eager to show us his muscles, which are conveniently not obscured by a puffy winter sleeve.

Frosty glares at the oblivious guy and starts circling him as if he is catching his prey. Our shorts guy starts to circle him as well — lasting about three seconds before dropping to the floor in exhaustion. Frosty, once again, raises his nonexistent eyebrows. “Maybe we tie. But I’m definitely the better-looking one,” our shorts guy says. Frosty has no eyebrows, but you know if he did, they would be raised as if wondering is this guy serious? Oblivious, the sleeveless human continues, “Nah, we’re like polar bears in a pack. That’s totally the saying.” 

We were able to ask Frosty a quick question before his afternoon swim. When asked about our guy, Frosty said, “Yeah, I don’t know how he’s not cold either. I like our matching t-shirts, though!” 

Catch episode two to find out whether this rocky friendship lasts — or if Frosty eats our shorts guy.

 

When autocorrect helps the devil steal your girl

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PHOTO: Damir Khabirov / Adobe Stock

By:  Katie Walkley, Peak Associate

Chad: Hey weirdo!

Chad: *Wanda

Wanda: hey chad! strange typo, lol. how r u?

Chad: I’m alright. Feeling hyped to go see some dead cats tonight!

Wanda: ew . . . wtf?

Chad: Jazz cats! I’m going to a new jazz bar that just opened up.

Wanda: hm OK then . . .

Wanda: so on ur profile it says u go to SFU? me too! Chad: Which cum piss is your favourite? I love the Vancouver one.

Chad: *cum piss

Wanda: what the hell r u talking about?

Chad: *cum piss

Chad: Omfg.

Chad: *campus

Wanda: i don’t think this is autocorrect i think you’re just a creep

Chad: Please just give me another chancellor.

Chad: *chance

Wanda: fine, but only because my psychic said I would meet the love of my life today. so, what do u do in ur spare time?

Chad: Contra obscuro hoc spirtuum justa ad faciendam voluntatem meam.

Chad: Hold on how did that even happen??

Chad: I meant to say that I volunteer saving animals and babies in my spare time . . . 

Beelzebublover69: WHO HATH SUMMONED I TO THIS AWKWARD ENCOUNTER?

Chad: This friggin flip phone . . .

Chad: Wait what? Who are you?

Beelzebublover69: I’m literally the devil, dawg. What else would I be? Are you pranking me right now? You disturbed my slumber. Also what the hell does cum piss even mean?

Wanda: hey, sorry I wasn’t responding. i was just bench pressing.

Wanda: how is there a third person in this chat now? is that even possible?

Beelzebublover69: I don’t know how I got here, but man it sure stinks like weakness in this place. At least eternal damnation has some HEAT . . .  am I right, Wanda?

Wanda: LMAO wait ur actually so funny im dead

Beelzebublover69: Oh stahppp, you’re not dead yet. 😉 

Wanda: hey, wanna to go out sometime? Some perv was just telling me about a new jazz bar in town. we should check it out. 😉

Chad: Wait, that was me!! STOP IGNORING ME!

Beelzebublover69: That sounds wonderful!

Wanda: you know, i think i’ll finally be able to leave this dating app thanks to you

Beelzebublover69: Oh Goddess (my lord and saviour Trisha Paytas), am I in a dating app right now? 

Wanda: yes?

Beelzebublover69: NOOOOOOOO SAVE ME SATAN!! RESCUE ME FROM THIS HEATHENLESS WASTELAND AND BRING ME BACK TO HELL!!!

Wanda: take me with you! 

Wanda and Beelzebublover69 both blocked Chad and lived happily ever after in a situationship marriage held together by a shared taste in TikToks. Chad threw away his flip phone and quit his dopamine detox to pursue the more promising life of Clash Royale. Satan silently congratulated himself for his genius wingmanship and continued to manipulate autocorrect to get his homies to quit complaining about the dating scene. And with that, the chances of dating app success more than doubled for mortals and fiends alike.

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Simon Fraser University’s independent student newspaper since 1965.

Contact us: [email protected]

© The Peak Publications Society 1965-2024

Simon Fraser University’s independent student newspaper since 1965.

Contact us:
[email protected]

© The Peak Publications Society 1965-2024