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Tag Archives: ‘Cats

Winter Quarter at Northwestern is Amazing and I Don’t Care Who Knows It

5 Jan
(via northwestern.edu)

(via northwestern.edu)

Listen up, Wildcats. Betches love to complain about winter in Evanston. It’s soooo cold. Rush is soooo boring. I don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day. Nobody will ever love me. I’m going to die alone surrounded by my cats and McKinsey and Company employee of the month awards. The passage near Kellogg is like totally a wind tunnel. I should have gone to Madison, it’s totally not this cold up there. My Wings Over order is taking sooooo long to get here. Where is my Honey BBQ? Where is the Frosbite Express??!??!?

I’m gonna stop you right there. Winter quarter is amazing, you just don’t know it yet. Here’s a rundown of all the reasons why January through March are a wonderful time to be a Wildcat:

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8 Adorable Kittens that are Members of the Westboro Baptist Church

14 Sep

So we all know kittens are super, duper cute. Nothing can change that – not even if the kittens in question are hyper-bigoted homophobes. Here are some kittens that will definitely make you say “it’s the 21st century – it’s time to accept America as the great diverse nation it is!”

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3 Tips to cope with that Summertime Sadness

8 Sep

Summer is winding down now, and we are all ready to be back at school. For those of us who are just as weird as Lana del Rey and nowhere near as pretty, summertime sadness is some real shit. Everyone seems to fall into a summer category: working a kickass internship at some awesome company; partying like old times with your high school biddies; “studying” abroad or just being a generally wealthy person who gets to “summer” in Athens for funsies; or finally, being forced to remember why you hated your hometown in the first place.

I, unfortunately, fall into the last category. Subheading: bored housewife training.

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Sherman Ave Freshman Guide: Living in Bobb

28 Aug
Not pictured: Gameday Morning Shots

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.

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Keg Week 2013: The Story of TKOE As Told By Gifs of Kittens

5 Apr

Once upon a time, there was a cat named Tom Migon.  He was an amazing and incredibly intelligent cat.

What a smart cat!

Tom Migon, instead of choosing a life of fame or fortune, chose to dedicate himself to a life of service.  He opened a charitable organization called The Keg of Evanston.  The Keg of Evanston was meant for cats who wanted to meet each other and have fun.  

Mexican Mondays, the predecessor to Keg Mondays.

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A Comprehensive Guide to Men’s Bathroom Etiquette

31 Aug

There’s a right time and a wrong time to discuss the pee pee shivers.

If you have a Y chromosome and have ever been stricken with the urgent need to urinate in Midway International Airport, then you would probably agree that the state of men’s bathroom etiquette in the United States is alarming.  Even in the 21st century, urinalgoers and toiletsitters still routinely disregard the fundamental principles of propriety and respect in the bathroom, resulting in a horrifying number of unwanted junk viewings and uncomfortable verbal exchanges.  In a desperate effort to rectify this social epidemic (henceforth referred to as “The Great Discomfort”), we here at Sherman Ave have developed a comprehensive guide to bathroom etiquette.

Part I: When and how did The Great Discomfort originate? 

            Many trace The Great Discomfort back to the New Deal under President Roosevelt in the 1930s.  One agency created was the Public Works Administration, which was responsible for, well, public works, including many public buildings large enough to necessitate large public bathrooms.  We’re not really sure how this developed into today’s current predicament, but we generally like blaming problems on large government programs and bureaucratic expansion, because of the logic.

Part II: Who is responsible for The Great Discomfort?

            Although social scientists, cultural anthropologists, and ethnographers have spent decades discussing the finer nuances of these wiener-displaying culprits, the answer is really pretty simple: Old people.  Indeed, the most gruesome perpetrators of the Great Discomfort are typically old men who trounce through public bathrooms, trying to make small talk and making no attempt to shield your eyes from their wrinkly, wrinkly manbags.  Here are some of the most common characteristics of the old people who will make your bathroom experience more uncomfortable than that time you watched the rock opera Tommy with your estranged uncle:

  • AARP membership
  • Florida license plate
  • Pocketful of Werther’s wrappers
  • Copy of “The Greatest Generation” by Tom Brokaw
  • Tendency to loudly announce snap judgments about minorities
  • A “Thurmond-Wright ‘48” pin on his knapsack

Of course, America’s grave-fillers aren’t the only ones capable of generating bathroom awkwardness.  Other renowned etiquette-violators include well-meaning janitors, pants-dropping children, and gay-bashing senators.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that you had to watch the Cubs piss away another afternoon.

Part III: Where is The Great Discomfort most volatile?

            As you may have guessed, The Great Discomfort is most potent in public environments.  With the exception of those times years ago when your father kicked down the door while you were peeing and fired off two dozen Roman Candles to threaten you into trying out for the football team instead of auditioning for the local productions of Cats, almost all negative bathroom experiences occur in some kind of public setting and stem from other people being heinous.  Even so, some public places seem to attract the uncomfortable bathroom crowd.  Listed below are some of the most notable hotspots for toilet creepers*.

  • Baseball games.  Setting aside the crowd of drunken overweight 30-somethings who are still trying to relive their glory days playing 3rd base for Boise North High School, the urinal troughs create a toxic environment (literally and figuratively) for bathroom-goers seeking peace and quiet.  You’d think that in a society so focused on individual rights, we wouldn’t all have to piss in the same damn basin like a bunch of mangy socialist taintlords.
  • Airports.  Just because you aren’t fellating Larry Craig doesn’t mean that you’re home free.  Airport bathrooms are grotesque because they combine the feel of a high-stress environment (businessmen hurrying to their flights, children hurrying to the shitty airport store, pilots hurrying to get moderately intoxicated at the airport bar) with a crowd of people in travel mode (read: That guy who brushes his teeth in the airport bathroom).  The result is a violent collision of cultures, which inevitably translates to – you guessed it – awkwardness in the bathroom.
  • Truck Stops.  For a second, we can ignore the fact a truck stop bathroom is dirtier than the International Mud Wrestling Convention held in Mumbai; the discomfort stems only partially from the inherent dirtiness of the bathroom.  What is even deadlier is the clash of the trucker, who traditionally views a truck stop bathroom stall as a 15-minute escape from the endless yellow lines of I-80, and the standard driver or passenger, who views a truck stop bathroom stall as a 20-second sacrifice to avoid a urinary tract infection.

Target practice.

Part IV: How can The Great Discomfort be curbed?

            After hours of pain-staking research and heated discussion, we have deconstructed the problem at hand and divided it into a handful of simple and digestible tips (no pun intended?) on how to avoid flagrant violations of bathroom etiquette.

  • Minimize conversation.  There is a time and a place for everything, and the time and place for small talk is at church picnics and Starbuck’s service counters.
  • Minimize awkward conversation.  It’s one thing to talk about the weather to a dude while he’s deflating his pelvic panther, but it’s another to ask him about his ailing grandmother.  There is really just a very limited selection of appropriate conversations that can occur between two men holding their porkswords.
  • Minimize grunting.  For fuck’s sake, this isn’t a women’s tennis match.  No one wants to be in the bathroom at the same time as the guy whose defecation process is so intense that it necessitates sound effects comparable to Chewbacca being fisted by King Kong.
  • Wash your hands.  This shouldn’t require much explanation.  If you just peed in a urinal, then you just touched your glorystick, which means you should wash your hands.  I’m looking at you, hippies.
  • Eyes ahead.  There is nothing more awkward than someone peeing at a full row of urinals whilst aggressively staring at the person to his left or right.  I’d rather have the Eye of Sauron watch me empty the steel eel than have the Eye of Creepy Tall German Guy watch me whip it out.  YES, GERMANS.  I’M CALLING YOU OUT.
  • Wait to whip.  Among the most atrocious bathroom crimes is the “Early Exposure,” or the act of completely whipping out your dick before even reaching a urinal.  It is incredibly traumatizing to finish a good piss, turn around to wash your hands, and be accosted by a random dude’s shlong.  Seriously, it’s horrifying, unnecessary, and impossible to unsee, much like the movie “Deliverance.”
  • Execute Proper Urinal Placement.  This is the trickiest of these tips to master, because there is truly a science behind urinal placement.  Essentially, this is the rule of thumb: Always attempt to leave at least one urinal between yourself and the nearest bathroom-goer.  Above all, don’t be the guy that bypasses an entire row of empty urinals to occupy the urinal adjacent to the only other occupied urinal.  Just don’t do it.  It’s really hurtful and often leads to severe emotional distress.

So, men of the world, take heed.  With proper attention and care, this social crisis can be corrected.  With each drop of golden elixir that you excrete from your bodies, you have the opportunity to be a catalyst for progress.  Never forget that just one person can make a difference, even if it’s something as small as refraining from asking an adjacent bathroom-goer what he thinks of 50 Shades of Grey.

*Yes, Toilet Creepers was the name of my band in high school.  Those days are behind me, despite the fact that our hit single “Snake Jelly on my Fingertips” would have easily gone platinum had it gotten better exposure.
To purchase your very own Mayor Tisdahl Urinal Cake, LIKE OUR FACEBOOK PAGE!!!

Video

Hey, we heard you were a Wildcat: More Evidence NU Rocks

26 Jun

As evidenced by the video above, the lakefill is shining, Core is hopping, and Morty Schapiro is grinding down Groovy Street. Oh, it’s just another day at Northwestern.

So to the class of 2012: Way to go. Try not to miss us too much, and good luck in Realworldland. Class of 2016: better start lacing up your down-with-bad-self shoes. And if you don’t own any, it’s time to make that purchase.

Go Cats!

Thanks to all the beautiful ‘cats that let me film them at their wildest, including Boomshaka, fellow ShermanAviators, a certain CA, Carlejandro, Dami, Sarah, Shepard 4th floor, the two lovely and spontaneous strangers in Core at 3 AM, and (of course) Morty Schapiro.

Northwestern would TOTALLY be in the Final Four right now

26 Mar

Shurna leading us to hypothetical victory.

While the NCAA Tournament Selection Committee decided that NU didn’t technically “make the Tournament” the year and wasn’t in the “first six teams out” because the team “wasn’t very good” and “lost crucial games,” we at The Ave can’t help but imagine what would have happened if our boys had made the Dance. After careful consideration, it seems obvious that this team, arguably the third best in NU history (!), would be in the Final Four right now. Here’s how it would happen:

Game 1: Northwestern over Brigham Young
For argument’s sake we’ll pretend that the ‘Cats would have been one of the last four teams selected for the tourney, and thus forced to partake in a play-in game to make the field of 64. NU probably would have taken Iona’s place as a 14 seed (Gaels? Or GIRLS, ya dig?!), so we’ll pit Northwestern against BYU in this First Four matchup.

The ‘Cats at first seemed overmatched.  BYU won 26 games this year, features the skills of Brandon Davies, and has four players who averaged 10 or more points. NU would certainly lose this game against a skilled opponent. However, NU has one option at its disposal that the Cougz can’t match: the ability to twist a calendar. Start school on September 28th? Why not! Return from Winter Break the day after New Year’s? Easy! Finish finals in the middle of fucking summer? SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN. The ‘Cats easily change the tournament schedule to put this game on a Sunday. BYU, for religious reasons, does not play games on Sundays and is forced to forfeit (#MormonProblems). And just like that, NU is in the field of 64 and set for a second round matchup with Marquette!

Game 2: Northwestern over Marquette
Now I know it may seem as if Marquette is more talented than the BYU team that NU slipped by on a technicality. And it’s true! Marquette cruised through the Big East with 14 league wins and has tremendous talent in Darius Johnson-Odom and Jae Crowder. But do they call this March Monotony?* March Meh? March Mellow?! MARCH MENOPAUSE?! NO. It’s March Madness and anything can happen!

This is the time when Norfolk State figures out Mizzou doesn’t have a defense. The time when Bryce Drew can slide across the floor without ripping his skin off. The time when the transitive property should probably be considered as a rule of law and since Northwestern beat LSU and LSU beat Marquette then haha we win so go home and cry about it Marquette cause NU is going to the Round of 32 HEHEHEHE!

The Monstars were Carmody's backup choice.

Game 3: Northwestern over Murray State
This may be the ‘Cats biggest hurdle to date. NU has historically struggled against teams that are good at winning basketball games, and Murray State won 31 of them this year. NU falls behind early in this one, largely because Murray State appears to be faster, better coached, and more skilled than the ‘Cats. Northwestern had hoped to save their secret weapon for later in the tourney, but down 48-2 after just a minute and a half of play, they have no choice but to bring in Northwestern University President and Professional Crocodile Wrestler Morton Schapiro. Morty scores eleventy-seven-trillion points, blocks all of the shots, and grabs all of the rebounds before being ejected for “excessive girth.”

The ‘Cats return to their impotent ways without Morty in the lineup, but the clock works in their favor as they hold on to win eleventy-seven-trillion-plus-two to eleventy-seven-trillion-plus-one. And it’s on to the Sweet Sixteen!

Game 4: Northwestern over Florida
Florida, recognizing the danger posed by a hot Northwestern team (and we aren’t just talking about those four foot tall Nick Freundt heads), opts to bring in their own secret weapon: Tim Tebow. However, the plan goes awry with the realization that the two days Tebow has spent in New York since his trade to the Jets has completely corrupted him. Lil Timmy shows up tweaking on meth with a high-class escort on one arm and a hooker on the other**. His stunning turn to a life of sin appears to have zapped all his magic John 3:16 powers and he is completely ineffective.

The ‘Cats are similarly incompetent and the game seems destined for a 0-0 tie, until Tebow is called for a technical after he strips down nekked and runs around screaming and masturbating. John Shurna sinks the two free throws and NU takes the game. In a controversial move, Tebow is then put down by Pat Robertson. #YOLO

It got in the hole!

Game 5: Northwestern over Louisville
As the game nears tipoff, Louisville towers over Northwestern. The ‘Cats shrink in fear, awaiting a fate more painful than an Orgo midterm. Then suddenly, an idea pops into Reggie Hearn’s head; just moments before the game, he grabs a mic out of Erin Andrews’ sultry hands and announces to the world that he’s been carrying on an affair with Louisville coach Rick Pitino. Pitino, already frail from years of similar and incredibly accurate accusations, breaks down crying. He demands his whole team come give him a hug then runs away.

With no coach, Louisville struggles to stand up and breathe. Given literally hundreds of chances at an open layup, Luka Mirkovic sinks one at the buzzer for another 2-0 victory. With his bucket, the ‘Cats are into the Final Four!

I know you may be wondering what would happen to NU in the Final Four, but Sherman Ave deals exclusively with the facts and those games simply have not been played yet in the parallel universe I’ve described. To try to predict them would be absurd to say the least. Let’s try to stay grounded here, k? Great. Now go watch all the porn you can before President Santorum takes it all for himself.

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*Hat tip to that weird Greg Anthony commercial for something that I don’t remember
**For those of you who don’t follow New York politics: A high-class escort is a prostitute for rich and important people, while a hooker is a prostitute for the rest of us. Since Tebow is apparently rich and important it makes sense he has an escort, but since he isn’t actually much better at football than the rest of us I think he was required by law to get a hooker too. Damn Obamacare.

Shurned Out: Riding the Bubble at Northwestern

23 Feb

Apparently he didn’t appreciate the five-foot pictures of his face in the crowd.

Last Saturday, John Shurna broke Northwestern’s career scoring record, surpassing Billy McKinny‘s 1,900 career points with a three-pointer against Minnesota. Last weekend I set a career personal high score of 18,310 points in BrickBreaker, but nobody made much of a fuss about it.* Or even a t-shirt.

As Northwestern basketball fans are starting to realize, life on the bubble of the NCAA tournament is a lot like what I’m assuming drunk sex with your pledge wife would be like: you hold your breath and hope that everything magically falls into place to bring about a wondrous sensation you’ve never felt before, but you’re really just waiting for something to go horribly awry and inevitably ruin everything you hold dear. There will probably be a lot of crying in the end no matter what.

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