Diversity!
Sorority recruitment is very chaotic. Sometimes it’s difficult to see clearly through the thick pink cloud of estrogen, and it can be hard to hear over the dull roar of WHAT’S YOUR WINTER BREAK WHAT DORM PWILD TELL ME ABOUT YOUR BOBB WHAT CLASSES HAVE NEW TRIER WHERE DO YOU ROOMMATE MY VALUES INCLUDE THE BAY AREA.
So that’s why I’ve got your back. Shit usually goes down something like this:
This Friday, A&O (which stands for something, but literally no one knows what) is hosting a concert featuring a black musical act preceded by a white musical act that guy from Community, and some band that you don’t listen to, but that one girl from your dorm who ironically wears the same glasses as your grandpa listens to. It’s at some time, probably at night.[1] There will also be Morty Schapiro a special guest. They actually do this concert every fall, they host it at our basketball arena (Welsh-Ryan), and they call it A&O Blowout.
The site of what will certainly be the greatest experience of the latter half of one of your Fridays.
Now, you’re a freshman, and the only concert experience you’ve ever had is that one time you went with your mom to see John Mayer and had to uncomfortably listen to her sing along with “Your Body is a Wonderland”. You’re in college now, and after almost four weeks on campus you think you’ve pretty much got everything down pat. So since there’s this concert being held very close to campus that’s like super cheap, you’re probably thinking, “fuck yeah, let’s go!” And you should go. Attending Blowout is a freshman rite-of-passage; you go your first year here, realize it’s kinda meh, and then never go again.[2] That being said, it definitely doesn’t have to be meh; you can have a great time, as long as you know what to do and what to expect. So let Sherman Ave fill you in with the deets. You trust us, right?
Not pictured: Gameday Morning Shots
HEY PARTY PEOPLE! For all the Wildkittens lucky enough to see “Bobb” or “McCulloch” on their housing assignment: congratulations and welcum to the good life.
Every freshman experiences a whirlwind of emotions when they get their housing assignment (Ayers CCI? Well that’s some shit). Regardless of whether or not you wanted to live in Bobb, you’re probably familiar with its reputation. So now you’re pissing yourself with excitement or fear. Or both.
One Northwestern. One Shitshow.
In the wake of a heated Associated Student Government Senate meeting last Wednesday night, ASG President Ani Ajith is scrambling to fill numerous vacancies for cabinet positions left unconfirmed following the acrimonious session. While ASG‘s failure to confirm the chief of staff, vice president for public relations and associate vice president for diversity and inclusion positions for political, racial, and fecal reasons received wide coverage, the following seven essential positions also remain unconfirmed.
1. Smash Mouth’s slot at Dillo Day
Despite widespread support for the 1990s pop-rock band’s appointment to Dillo Day‘s traditional “Bands-You-Listened-To-In-Middle-School-Nostalgic-Daytime Slot,” the selection committee’s nomination was blocked by senate vote following a contentious floor debate. Bobb senator Biff Pemberton expressed concern with the band’s rumored appointment, claiming that the band “just wasn’t experienced enough” for the responsibility of performing for thousands of drunken college kids. Pemberton went on to filibuster the proceedings, playing Smash Mouth’s 2005 Christmas album Gift of Rock on repeat for eight-hours nonstop.
Is it true that Morty once took Margaret Thatcher to a nice dinner and never called her back?
Because 33 things that go through the mind of every Northwestern student (almost) every day just wasn’t enough.
1) OF ALL THE GIN JOINTS IN ALL THE WORLD WHY DID TISDAHL HAVE TO SHUT DOWN MINE.
2) No but it’s fine The Keg wasn’t that great I’ll just go somewhere else in Evanston OH MY GOD THERE IS NO WHERE ELSE.
3) TIIIIIISSSSSSSDAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
4) It’s April. Why the fuck do I need to wear a Northface in April.
5) If BK was a McDonalds I would be broke and fat.
You’re basically the MLK Jr. of film-goers.
While I fully appreciate the convenience of Netflix, Hulu, and Comcast On Demand, I usually prefer to see movies in the theater. A trip to the theater is an event. Movie theaters provide a change in scenery, access to the grossest foods you could dream of, and a much-needed break from my nonexistent life at Northwestern.
Luckily, here at Northwestern, there are literally thousands of nerds to choose from when it comes to finding a movie buddy. There was no shortage of people to accompany me to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part I, The Lion King in 3D, and Wreck-it Ralph. I even managed to find a person with whom I could watch trees, cosmic swirls, and a stern-looking Brad Pitt on a loop for 139 minutes in The Tree of Life.
“At first I was like, ‘You know, it might not be such a great idea to go skinny dipping in the Amazon with a bottle of Patron and the entire San Diego Chargers Charger Girls squad,’ but then I was just like, ‘YOLO.'”
-Morton O. Schapiro
Don’t worry, the sex scene’s coming soon.
“How was your interview with Ross Packingham?” asks Beverly Brooke, my roommate and consummate frenemy.
“Intriguing. There’s something secretive about him that I can’t figure out. Is it true he once had a threesome with a Theta and Willie the Wildcat in the library stacks?”
“I heard it was with Stephen Colbert and two theater majors on South Beach while Andrew Bird played in the background,” Beave answers, “But that’s just what I read once on College ACB.”
We finish off our bottles of Andre while watching Say Yes to the Dress and head over to Alpha Delta for the true pregame. The second we step into the basement, our senses are assaulted by skunked beer, bros in tank-tops, and Katy Perry. Lots of Katy Perry.
“WOOOOOOOOOO” shouts Beave as “Teenage Dream” comes on, and immediately begs a frat brother who looks suspiciously similar to an Asian Nic Cage (and almost as belligerent) to let her take a beer pong celeb shot.
I leave to get myself a drink. I pour myself some Mohawk vodka into a solo cup of Busch Light, which I affectionately dub ‘The Bobb,’ because the drink’s always a party and smells like piss.
The Alpha Delta brothers are getting rowdy. Some jackass tries to hit on me by asking which Vice President I’m most sexually attracted to, only to leave the next moment muttering to himself about the similarities between House Republicans and gonorrhea.
“KEG! KEG! KEG!” The Alpha Delta brothers shout. I down my drink and steel myself for the heinous that is to come.
————————————–
HE’S HERE! OMIGOD HE’S HERE!!!
It takes me a little while to recognize the man before my eyes, but after I adjust to the hedonism around me and get over the brief torrent of terror that shot through me as the Keg bouncer took an additional five seconds to ensure that I truly am the 25-year-old Beyonce Lovato from Anchorage, Alaska that my ID said I was, I realize that I really am beholding the elusive Ross Packingham, HERE, in the flesh, at the Keg!
Gorgeous as all hell and with a gleam in his eye, Packingham is freaking the night away with some co-ed like he’s Channing Tatum on ecstasy.
“Carla!” He shouts, “Carla Rossi! Over here!” He’s beckoning me over to join him and his slam-piece on the dance floor, and I head his way.
And then, with a tremendous blast, the door of the Keg comes crashing down. A dark, shrouded figure looms large in the doorway. For a moment everything stops, douchebags freeze mid-thrust where they were dancing, and even that one townie playing pool turns to look. The only sound is that of Ludacris’ verse on “Baby” as Mayor Tisdahl, clad in combat boots, night-vision goggles, and a James Taylor t-shirt, fully armed with a crowbar and flanked by a cadre of Evanston cops, steps into the neon light of the Coors Light sign.
“My sources tell me that there’s been underage drinking in this establishment,” Mayor Tisdahl growls, tossing the disemboweled corpse of an engineer into the stunned crowd. “You can thank this snitch here. Now I’m going to shut this motherfucker down once and for all.”
All hell breaks loose as Elizabeth Tisdahl and her police posse attack.
Intoxicated and sweaty bodies frantically jostle with one another (not unlike the Keg on a normal Monday night) as Tisdahl brutally swings her crowbar with reckless abandon at poor defenseless English majors and ETHS seniors while the cops gleefully cite students for underage drinking by the score.
“That’s for yacking on the Evanston Post Office!” screams Tisdahl as she brains a Comm Studies student with her crowbar as he tries to scuttle up a stripper pole.
“And this will teach you to holler about blowjobs on MY streets!” she adds, sucker-punching a Tri Delt like she’s Michael Barrett squaring off against A.J.
“Say blowjob one more time. I FUCKING DARE YOU!”
I can’t bear the sight of her pile-driving two foreign students through a window, and quickly duck under a booth and pray that God will save me, or at least turn off the Bieber that’s still playing if I am to be summarily executed by Mayor Tisdahl in this den of debauchery.
The Keg has all but cleared out as I cower in fear, watching Tisdahl and her cops methodically pour big cups of Bud Light and handles of Svedka and Wild Turkey all over the Keg’s walls and floors.
Tisdahl shoulders her crowbar and lights a cigarette. Turning with a menacing gait, she addresses the few remaining students.
“Based on what I see here, I think that the Keg has some grave public safety concerns. I’m revoking the Keg’s license,” she flips her cigarette onto the booze-soaked floor, “Permanently.”
The flames erupt immediately, burning away years of sin and memories. Students scream, and Tisdahl laughs, but just as she turns to leave a gallant figure, wearing nothing but an enormous purple cape, bursts through the Keg’s window riding on the back of a dashing wildcat.
“MORTY SCHAPIRO!” everybody cheers as the lionhearted president rushes to their defense.
His body is lithe and stately, glistening in the fiery inferno as his beard bristles with the white-hot intensity of a hundred thousand Pat Fitzgeralds.
“Oh no you don’t, Tisdahl!” cries Morty, slapping the Mayor back with his massive appendage. More cheers from the students. Morty rips off a stripper pole to serve as his quarterstaff (he already has a full staff down below).
“I’m going to give you the Chet Haze treatment tonight, baby,” shouts Morty. “You’ll be white and purple when I’m done with you.”
Then Morty sets to work, fighting off cops left and right with the help of his trusty wildcat. Those police officers who are too foolish not to run away suffer the awful fate of his beard, and Morty and his steed finish them off faster than the NCAA finishing off Northwestern’s March Madness dreams.
Yet somehow in all the confusion, Mayor Tisdahl managed to escape, cursing Morty and swearing that her revenge is nigh. Few seemed to care, however, as Morty ripped open a fire hydrant with his bare hands, soused the Keg’s raging flames, and turned the club into an all-night slip-and-slide.
“Come here,” a voice says gruffly. I turn with shock and look at the man gripping my hand. It’s Packingham. “This way.”
He leads me to the Popcorn machine, raps it three times with his knuckles, opens up the top, and helps me inside. “Follow me,” Ross says, pushing a button and revealing a secret passageway that travels out of the popcorn machine and leads to a mysterious tunnel. I follow, obediently, trusting Ross completely.
“I hereby declare the Keg re-instated!” bellows the victorious, and still mostly-nude, Morty. “I wish the Keg luck with their newly instated Lifetime License to Rage!”
I can barely hear the cheers as I go deeper and deeper down the tunnel, guided only by the mysterious Ross Packingham.
To be continued
Chapter one of 50 Shades of Purple can be found HERE.
Oh thank God, 20 more messages about the vomit in the bathroom!
Lost Items
Sample Post: “Hey guys, I lost my wallet and wildcard somewhere in the frat quad last night. I’m not sure where I dropped them, but I think I lost them somewhere around there. If anyone finds them, please let me know. Thx!”
Meaning: “I lost my self-respect and dignity somewhere in the Beta House last night. However, since my possessions are probably damaged beyond repair, I guess I’d be able to settle for being able to pay for meals to make up for all the food I ‘lost’ on the steps of Bobb.”
Interviews
Sample Post: “Hey, I’m a Journalism Major and I’m looking to interview someone who does [insert interest here] or has [insert problem here] for my enterprise story. If someone does [insert interest here] or has [insert problem here], please contact me. Thanks for the help guys!”
Meaning: “I really don’t have many friends because I spend most of my time learning grammar and worrying about Medill. I’m really excited to talk to anyone about anything. I don’t have great communication skills so scripted conversations are the only ways I can talk to anyone. Someone please talk to me…Please….PLEASE!!!!”
Selling Things
Sample Post: “I’m selling all of my books from Macro, Chem, and EDC last quarter. Contact me if interested. I’m very flexible on price.”
Meaning: “I’m dropping my real major for sociology. Last quarter was hell and I can’t stand to have these fucking books staring me in the face every time I get back “The Family and Society.” Will somebody please take them away? Maybe for a dollar? 50 cents? JUST FUCKING TAKE THEM!!!!!”
Funny Posts
Sample Post: “I came to Northwestern for the sports teams. We’re, like, SOOOOO GOOD at football lol.”
Meaning: “I’m not very good at coming up with funny things normally, but when I think of something, I need to share it with everyone I can. You should totes like my post and validate my self-worth.”
Ross Packingham replenishes his beer fund by scalping CSO tickets
Sample Post: “Me and a friend bought 5 tickets to [insert event here], but the other people can’t go. If you’re interested in coming, please message me asap. Thanks!!!”
Meaning: “My one friend and I bought extra tickets to [insert event here] because we really aren’t good at making friends, but we figured nobody could resists free stuff, so someone would have to be our friends. We thought about just paying people to be our friends, but we thought that was going too far. But yeah, everyone should TOTALLY come and be our friends!!!!!! ❤ ❤ ❤ xoxo”
Hopefully this guide has helped you to understand the inner-workings of the minds of your fellow students.
Sherman Ave 