It was just one week before that these same sophomores were sitting in my common room, nervously tugging at their hair and preparing themselves for bickering. Some were discussing which outfits to wear for bicker—in the case of some, this meant strategically picking shoes that could withstand intense moisture, snow, and beer spillage, yet still not appear sloppy. Some girls were flipping through bicker guides prepared for them by upperclassmen friends. I overheard two sophomore boys in Frist struggling to come up with five interests to write down on a pre-bicker survey.
Ad Pulcherissimam Fireassam Mariannam These humid days Tend to craze More than desert sun. But if her heat Will join this heat Then come come Delirium! The Beautiful Bain of My Existence (Jonesin’) We’re all struck soon or late, you … Read More
Over time, people get to know which eating clubs are best for them, but in case you haven’t done that yet (and are still feeling a little lost on the Street at night), I’ve created a guide for people (especially a freshman) to follow so that they can decide what kind of eating club they want to go into depending on the kind of night that they want to have.
Late one night last weekend, waiting in the checkout line at Frist, an individual approached me to say that he was of the notion that I was the author of the anonymous “Ask A Girl” column that had recently debuted in the pages of the Nassau Weekly. It’s a strange feeling, being framed. Because no matter how utterly NOT the author of this article I am, the mere speculation draws from the ether an imaginary ghost-me, with ghost intentions, leaving splotches of invented ectoplasm on laptop keys I never pressed when never sitting smirkily in my dorm room, midnight hour, writing a column that the real me- flesh, bone and conviction- simply does not believe in.
Lately, people have been asking me a lot where I’ve been for the past few days. Well it’s funny they should ask. Let me tell you, it all started when I remembered, on Thursday, that there were no new OC … Read More
Without Greek brothers and sisters to guide us, the class of 2016 is the first to navigate the treacherous seas of passes and lists alone. After a year of stumbling drunkenly around the Street, we feel that the classes of 2015, 2014, and 2013 (and maybe some pre-frosh out there) would appreciate and find humor in our (very biased) insight into the distinct cultures of infamous Princeton Eating Clubs.
