This week I went out with a guy named D. He IMed me while I was online, sans messaging. It’s not the classiest move, but I went with it. Within a few IMs I found out he was a Yale alum and a 3rd year Harvard law student, home in the village for winter break. “Oh. . . . → Read More: D-Date
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This column is calling. Calling all girls who don’t hit the bar just to show off overexposed thighs and thong lines; calling all girls who don’t drool over the kind of guy who will kick them out before breakfast (come on, he should at least buy you chocolate-chip-hangover pancakes first) . . . and calling all . . . → Read More: Female Trouble – Uptown Lowdown Comes to Pomp! Last night I was catching up on television, and watched the Rumours-inspired episode of Glee. It reminded me of the good ole days, when I was in an all-girl cover band called The Cheaters, and we would imbibe in toxic cocktails of drugs and alcohol, and sit around listening to music, trying to pick a . . . → Read More: Fleetwood Mac – The Chain In college there was a group of people slightly more different than the rest. They wore capes, had chopped off all their hair, save for the exception of a few strategic braids. At night we could hear them shouting battle cries off the end of the world (the slight incline where our campus seemed to end, . . . → Read More: Dungeons & Dragons |
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