Byline: Colin Pfeiffer

Fear and Loathing at the Freshman Formal

When I heard about the Freshman Formal my mind immediately flipped to “Prom: The College Edition.” At first I didn’t even plan on going to the Formal.

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Squashed Together

“We definitely weren’t the favorites going into this,” senior and captain Casey Riley said. “But we pulled it out.” Riley wasn’t exaggerating. The women’s squash team, by many counts, was not the favorite to win this year’s Howe Cup.

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Beginning the Year Properly

Instead of the usual how-do-you-do, we’d like to tell a story.
There once were two bears. Both were young and happy; both led pleasant and fulfilling lives.
Or so they thought.

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A Conversation with the Editors

Ca: I think we need to have a talk.

Cb: What about?

Ca: I didn’t actually call you in here to take a shower. I called you in here for something else.

Cb: What’s that?

Ca: I called you in here because I think you have a drinking problem.

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Cleaning up Your Puke

What happens to your vomit? Which magical little elves comes and clean it up, so when you groan your way out of bed, you don’t step in it on your way to class? The singularly important responsibility of cleaning up vomit belongs not to elves but regular people—the Princeton Grounds and Maintenance Crew.

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At Your Service

NW: On the topic of religious holidays: Yom Kippur, Day of Atonement. For the Princeton students, is there anything you must atone for?

[Pregnant pause]

JW: Caring too much.

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From the Editors

Our Weekly Missive.

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Frist’s Tentacles

“It’s really big. I mean, it’s like really, really big,” a prospective Princetonian exclaimed. “Like I think my high school could, like, fit into this building. What do they do with all this space?” she queried, twirling her bleached blond hair around a manicured finger. She flounced off to catch a departing Orange Key Tour.

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Amo, Amas, Ahmed

When Ahmed was born those twenty or so years ago, the world was taking a piss. His mother screamed in agony as his overlarge head forced its way out of her vagina. His father, preferring oblivion to the messy, bloody process that is birth, smoked himself retarded outside the whelping chamber.

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