The Best Places To Take A Shit On Campus

“Everybody poops, you are not alone”- Radiohead

Up until going abroad a few months ago (in a place with not-so-great toilets, as it were), I had a really hard time dropping a deuce anywhere but home. It wasn’t that I couldn’t; in a high stress, emergency scenario, I was perfectly capable of using a public toilet. But it was never a comfortable experience, and despite my recent maturation, pooping in a public place is still something of a trying experience for me.

It may well be that I am alone in struggling to drop trou in public restrooms. I have a hard time believing that I am #foreveralone, but even if we say for the sake of argument that I am, I’m still sure that everyone, I mean virtually EVERY man, woman, child, and other, prefers to poop in comfortable circumstances. It’s why dogs prefer the grass to the sidewalk, why cats prefer anywhere but the litter box to the litter box (wait no that’s because cats are total dicks nevermind).

Freshman Guide: Being Undecided

Hello future Wildcat! In a just about a month, you’ll start your new life here at Northwestern University. A lot of big decisions are headed your way.  Should I bring a mini-fridge? What color should my shower caddy be? Should I show my roommate my mole that looks just like the Pope? (Yes/Burnt Sienna/show the WORLD)

Out of these, one of the most pressing decisions you’re going to have to make is what you want to major in.

Sherman Ave Freshman Guide: Living in the Mid-Quads

Seeing “North Mid-Quad” on my housing form was the emotional rollercoaster from hell. I was filled with joy seeing the word “north,” only to crumple into a sobbing ball on the floor when I actually took the time to look up the southern shithole in which I would be spending my first year of college.

Well, prepare yourselves, because I fucking loved living in the Mid-Quads. Mhm I said it… I LOVED NMQ AND I DON’T

7 Unexpected Changes After Two Weeks In Off-Campus Housing

If only my kitchen had this much counter space.

1. I feel guilty for feeding myself.

For the most part, I am happy to be done with meal plans. Never again will I need to resort to a bucket of cloudy ice cream water to clean my ice cream scooper, and for that I am eternally grateful. But the good thing about meal plans is that you’re charged a flat rate. The pain of parting with your hard-earned money is concentrated into large, but infrequent, payments. The real world is not so merciful, administering small doses of guilt whenever you buy groceries or pay for a meal. Even if you end up spending less money overall than on a meal plan, there is no escaping the constant reminders of your shrinking bank account.