Now, I love puns as much as the next person, but too much of a good thing leads to dire consequences.
Due to my upbringing, my sense of humor leans toward ‘unique and perplexing.’ At the age of two, my father trained me to quote Monty Python’s The Holy Grail. He would call to me,
“Isabel, what makes you think she’s a witch?”
And I’d reply as I was trained to, “She turned me into a newt!” Continue Reading…
At Brown, there’s a nagging pressure to have a unique style and general vibe; unfortunately, we’re not all as “different” as we may choose to believe. Before leaping into my first year at Brown, I purchased the obligatory “I enjoy quinoa” accessory: The Birkenstock. But upon arriving on campus, I was hit with the harsh reality that every third person was wearing the exact same shoe as I was: the identity crisis ensued. If I wasn’t “the cool, hippie, vegan girl,” then who was I? Not only were there people who were more socially and politically conscious than I was– they dressed like it too! I primed myself for a college experience where my personal style, academic achievement, and all aspects of my life would be consistently validated. I was shaken to my core when I happened upon the realization that I’d have to work to make myself seen.
For the past three years at Brown, I have been at the whim of the campus meats. I salivated over egg and bacon sandwiches at the Blue Room, cried out in jubilation when the Ratty had chorizo sausages for breakfast, slurped strips of Ivy Room gyro meat down my gullet, and every fateful Friday I scarfed down about 7 or 8 chicken tenders as honey mustard dripped down my fingers.
You know those college students who say things like:
“I wanna go to the Bahamas for Spring Break but I’m so PooR I’ll just probably have to go on a road trip up the California coast instead :/”
“I’m addicted to online shopping but it’s so baaAAaAad because I’m soo pooOoOor.”
“I’m LIVING that hashtag broke college student life… Yes, I’ve been to Europe at least twice. What, you haven’t?”
“Lolololololol I should get a job, too, but I’m so lazy! But it would be nice to not be ?poor?”
“I don’t know why I just keep buying things even though I’m So Poor.”
*Invites you to a pricey restaurant that you then tell them you can’t afford to go to* “Haha yeah me either. Broke college student lyfe, amirite?” *Proceeds to go anyway*.
However, one must take only a singular look at their outfit to know that their jeans fit too well for them to not be, like, super fucking rich. Continue Reading…
Welcome to Brown, Class of 2021. By now, you’ve probably slurped vodka from a ladle on the roof of Metcalf, slept through your 3 P.M., and peed on the fire you started with three Ratty to-go boxes and an iClicker outside of the Anne Marie Brown Crypt without any consequence. “College is great!” you exclaim, pouring an entire bowl of pho into your backpack. “No parents, dude!”
Did you really think you’d be free from parental clutches at this institution? Sucks to suck, but your mothers have given me custody of all 1,791 of you. That’s right; I am your legal guardian now. You have all been reborn from my womb and you better believe that I have some serious rules for you to follow around here. Continue Reading…
Married at First Sight is a reality show masquerading as a “””social experiment””” to conceal the undeniable fact that is crazy, nutso, and overall, bonkers. A team of experts matches three couples who meet at their weddings and live as “hubby” and “wifey” for at least six weeks, at which point they can choose to divorce. It is a show for people who like extreme blind dates, don’t want to kiss their spouse at the altar and dream about honeymooning with a perfect stranger. It is a show for people who want a partner who keeps them guessing like, “exactly how much in debt did they say they were?” and “will I ever feel comfortable scratching my butt with them around?”
It is a show for me.
I am crazy. I am nutso. And yes, overall, I am bonkers because I applied to be on the latest season of MAFS–and here’s the proof. Continue Reading…
Note: The author has since become a senior and a non-RPL and she says HAHA WADDUP BISHES!
I’ve lived in Keeney twice. Once during my freshman year and now as a junior working an RPL job in Archibald (my official title is World’s Worst WPC).
Living in Keeney again has had me deeply reflecting on my Brown experience, especially as I move on to my senior year. A lot has changed since freshman me lived in Keenasty. I mean, do we even call it that anymore?
For example, when I first got to “Jameson-Mead, 1st floor, Wait, oh my god, like, you’re a Ravenclaw, too? We should go to Josiah’s or something!” I still thought I was going to law school. Law school! Three years later, and while I do still plan to be unemployed, it will sadly be sans the JD. Continue Reading…
Well here I am, single again. No it’s cool, I’m okay, unfurrow your brows. Fortunately for all of us, I’m slowly but surely moving out of the “crying in line at the bank” phase and progressing into the “tequila will never leave me” part of the grieving process. Oh, and I’ve made myself a Tinder account. Admit it ladies, there’s honestly nothing more gruesomely satisfying than rating a man based on four low-qual photos of him at his senior prom and two lines of poorly-constructed self-reflection. Especially when one certain member of his species has Maced your heart in the face. Or perhaps you’re not in some sort of emotional spiral at all, you are a self-respecting, responsible young lady out here looking for love on a handheld device. More power to you. Future spinsters and social goddesses alike, I have compiled for us all a quick and easy guide to navigating the fuckboy hellscape that is Tinder. Enjoy. Continue Reading…