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Tag Archives: hot cookie bar

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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The Top 5 Reasons Why Hot Cookie Bar Is Awful

25 Oct

Honestly, can we just acknowledge that hot cookie bar is awful? Not just for your body, but like, for your soul. It’s a seriously wretched thing, tantamount to the events portrayed in the 2004 blockbuster smash, Hotel Rwanda. I don’t need any of you basic bitches Continue reading

Sherman Ave Interviews: Renee Engeln-Maddox (Part 2 of 2)

30 Sep

Earlier this summer, Sherman Ave editors Ross Packingham and Sir Edward Twattingworth III interviewed Psychology professor and Allison Hall live-in Renee Engeln-Maddox at Sherman Ave Headquarters.  If any cultural references seem slightly out of date, it’s because that’s what happens when we decide to wait to publish interviews for three months due to reasons.

Read Part 1 here.

The professor who will forever be remembered as "the one who couldn't remember twerk or flabongo."

The professor who will forever be remembered as “the one who couldn’t remember twerk or flabongo.”

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Packingham: When someone asks you what courses you teach, do you ever just go, “Intro to SIIIIIIKE!” and punch them in the genitals?

[silence]

Renee: If I’d thought of it…

Twattingworth: Follow-up, will you start doing that now?

Renee: Do I have to punch them? Cause that could hurt my back. What about like a kick? Or a knee? And I’d have to do the “SIIIIIIKE!” better than that. You need to get the “IIIIIIIII” a little higher.

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Other Potential Uses for the NU Emergency Notification System

17 Jul

The Wanted are coming for Dillo Day!?

Ever since Northwestern started calling us more frequently than biddies desiring a triple-x throw down dial 1-800-MIX-A-LOT, we’ve been trying to come up with other uses of Northwestern’s Emergency Notification System to utilize when the system isn’t busy notifying students and parents every time that the Fiji brothers spike the water supply with acid. Possible ideas are as follows:

Regrettable Hookup Notification
If only there was somebody besides your wingwoman frantically gesticulating in the corner of the Keg to warn you that the dude currently grinding into your junk looks like a cross between Joakim Noah and a Ringwraith. But with the Regrettable Hookup Notification system sending you voicemails every five minutes to alert you that your potential hookup is a 5.5 or worse, your second cousin, or a mechanical engineer, you’ll never shamefully hookup with a Sherman Ave writer again!

Open Bar Bulletin
One of the few text-message forewarnings you’ll actually heed. North campus has been overrun with zombies after an electrical fire in Tech released them from captivity? Eh, text me when the moat is fixed. Free booze all night? I WANT TO GO TO THERE AND DRINK UNTIL I HAVE ALL THE ALKEHOLZ AND DANCE TO ALL THE ONE DIRECTIONZ AND OMIGOD I LUUUUUUVE WHISKEY SOURZZZ!!!

Racial Controversy Alarm
Sample University-authored alert messages include, “University Police report there is a racial controversy brewing in the basement of SAE,” “EMERGENCY UPDATE: Officials are currently working to prevent painful reminders of this nation’s sensitive racial history from surfacing in some of the most uncomfortable ways,” and “Please, for the love of God, can we just cool it with the blackface?”

Hot Cookie Bar Release
This communique serves multiple functions, both alerting undergraduates of the sexual release that is waiting for them in Hinman while simultaneously warning of the impending stampede of Freshman already lining up to indulge in sweet half-baked orgasmy goodness.

CA-dar
It may not take Freshmen too long to recalibrate their gaydars to Northwestern, but in the meantime their CA-dars will be woefully underdeveloped. For all those who haven’t already studied up, Northwestern should send out text messages, emails, and automated phone calls to all students and their parents whenever a CA suspects that the a cappella renditions of The Script’s “Breakeven” and the smell of Burnett’s escaping from underneath your door is grounds to disrupt your Wednesday night viewing of National Treasure 2 party.

Caution: Bitches be p-trippin’

Power Trip Alert
The University needs to protect the physical and spiritual welfare of its students, which has been placed in grave danger by the number of p-trips rumbling through the northern suburbs. Expect emergency notifications whenever a Freshman correctly navigates his or her way through Tech, somebody accidentally takes Sherman Ave seriously, or every time Mayor Tisdahl wakes up in the morning. As if that would save you…

A (Late) Review of the Kony 2012 Campaign

13 Mar

The Kony 2012 campaign is garnering far more attention than the Romney 2012 campaign, for better or worse.

The more I think about it, the more annoyed I am by the Kony campaign. It’s not because I’m a cold, hateful cynic who hates children. It’s because the video wouldn’t be nearly as viral as it is if people had thought past the initial “Oh my god this man is a subhuman aberration who clearly deserves to be slaughtered in the most slow and painful way possible oh my god how do people even become that horrible oh my god.” And that should be your gut reaction, assuming you aren’t a cold hateful child-hating cynic. Now if you’re rational and logical as well, Step 2 is asking yourself whether you agree with the campaign. I don’t.

Yo, America, remember the last time the entire country suddenly flipped an outraged shit over going to catch a bad guy hiding halfway around the world? It’s okay if you don’t — the target audience for Kony’s video was twelve at the time. Whether or not you support the war in the Middle East today, you know that it had widespread support at the time. Nobody likes people who kill people, unless their names are Dexter or Katniss. Let’s put on our 10-year-hindsight hats.

First of all: does anyone have a post-Kony-killing plan? Because once Kony’s out of the picture, we will have (according to the video) an army of armed, brainwashed, possibly orphaned trained killers. What, pray tell, do we do with them? Yeah, we can return them home — those of them that haven’t killed their parents. But it’s not like we can let ‘em off at the nearest bus stop and pat ourselves on the back — the kids are all fucked up, and kicking their leader out of the picture is not going to save them. If they’ve been brainwashed to think Kony’s the next Messiah, they’re clearly not going to take to a bunch of assholes with a Superman complex trying to save them.

But don’t worry, nobody’s planning on “putting Americans into combat.” If our troops happen to get attacked, we can just tell the Kony Killer Kids that we weren’t actually planning on fighting them. Just stopping them. Problem solved.

As for the campaign itself: It’s been said before, but I’m cynical about the power of middle-class American college students’ Facebook status fads changing the world.* The problem with “awareness” is that it reaches a set point: right now, everyone who’s gonna know about Occupy knows about Occupy. And everyone who’s gonna know about breast cancer knows about breast cancer. At that point, you’re either doing something about the issue or not. Kony 2012 will reach that point.

But, what if “awareness turns into action.” I’m totally on board with them there. So long as you define “action” as letter-writing, calling Congressmen, and pretty much endorsing the message. But if you’re anything like me, you can be aware that you’re an out-of-shape lump of hot cookie bar who couldn’t run 20 minutes anymore let alone 20 miles, make a hearty New Year’s Resolution, plan to multitask on the treadmill with your reading — and still find yourself at Shepard Munchies stress-eating your finals via homemade baked goods and cocoa product. Awareness turns into intention, which sometimes turns into action.

Philanthropy’s easy when all you have to do is type some words on the Interwebz. But as any former philanthropy chair/DM 60-hour-clubber/Camp Kesem counselor can tell you, and as you probably already know, it’s really goddamn difficult to regularly squeeze money and time out of broke overinvolved college kids.** People will forget/“forget” to donate their time, money, and empathy around the same time the Keg starts forgetting/“forgetting” to notice again that your ID belongs to a 5’2” 115 lb Asian.

The viral philanthropy campaign set up by author Parrty Cat.

I’m also annoyed with certain vague, majestic proclamations regarding Ugandan child guerrillas. Prime example: “It’s bad for the world.” First of all, Jason Russell, this isn’t the persuasive essay you shat out at 3:00 AM your junior year because your coffee machine was broken and Starbucks was closed and you couldn’t stay awake any longer. Support your goddamn generalizations or it’s propaganda. Because, second of all, is it really, truly bad for the entire world? Honestly — somebodyisgoingtohatemeforsayingthis — no. It’s really, really bad. But this half of the world is personally affected by things other than Kony. And y’know, that’s why the Invisible Children sentiment is admirable – most anti-Kony campaigners have nothing to gain. Unlike the satisfaction of getting in shape, or taking vengeance on Osama, or having the kids for whom you raised $1.1 million high-five you onstage after 28 hours of anguished feet, the US and its inhabitants don’t gain anything from killing Kony (another reason our government is hesitant to help). Diehard Ko-pponents have their hearts in the right place. It’s the heads I’m worried about.

One thing I’m unclear about, and I ask this because I truly don’t know: why this plan of action? Our narrator gives us a step-by-step tutorial of how we’re going to stop Kony. But why aren’t there alternatives? They need technology and training – why doesn’t IC ask us to send money to the Supply The Ugandan Army With Necessary Shit Fund, instead of having ten middlemen? Is deploying American advisers overseas really our only option, or can’t we bring people here to train them? Who decided on this plan, and why don’t we have a say?

Sidenote: There’s an imaginary New York Times newspaper at about 22:25 in the Kony 2012 video, with the headline “KONY CAPTURED.” But I’m LOLing a little at the second article’s title: “The world agrees, Kony is the ‘Worst’.” I’m not entirely sure why this is amusing, but it might have to do with the ironic fact that the most vile adjective we can think of to label Kony with is “The Worst.” Was “ruthless sack of diarrhea” inappropriate somehow? And Flipside, could you pleaseplease take this and run with it?

I do admire the campaign for its great methods, and I’m not preparing for sarcasm here. Having only 20 “culture makers” and 12 policy makers = 32 public voices is a really, really good way to approach it. You might wonder why they don’t involve more, but what this strategy does is keep responsibility on a few committed individuals, rather than letting the campaign diffuse.*** The committed public’s gonna focus on pressuring those people to continue advocating. But, on the other hand, I wouldn’t be surprised if our lawmakers are just waiting for the initial outrage to blow over.

The sentiment is nice. Watching it for the first time without feeling the total emotional rush that I know others felt made me wish I could be less of a cynic and believe with all my heart in happy endings and butterflies and peace. I said the same thing after watching The Notebook.**** But that’s not how humans work. And if we aren’t at least slightly more cautious about running in headfirst without a plan for the lasting repercussions after an intervention is over, we haven’t learned a damn thing.

That said, Kony deserves every profanity in the English language and I hope he dies slowly and painfully.

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*Black with hot pink polka dots and a lacy bow by the clasp which is in the front not the back because I enjoy experiencing my boyfriend’s momentary bewilderment.
**Although for some reason, people in Bienen are the best cookie consumers. Sometimes I feel guilty because I should really tell them to save their money for when they’re starving artists and I’m relying on my non-music degree. But it’s all for the kids… right?
***Sherman Ave’s all about the psych terms. Right, Brother Jürgen?
**** You’re not a bird. Neither of you are birds. Get out of the middle of the road. Stop that nonsense. You’re both neurotic and your sex scene was weird. Shave and move on. Where in this movie am I supposed to be crying? Oh, now you have to go and die together. Does that even happen? You suck.

Why I’m transferring to Arizona State

24 Feb

Okay, so don’t think of this as a break up. Just think of it as a “see ya later pal,” aight? Because honestly, this isn’t about you. It’s about me needing to do what I have to do.

So here it is: I think I’m transferring. Probably to Arizona State. Sorry. But as I do in all breakups, and to make this much easier on you, I’ve compiled a list of reasons why:

How come the student-to-hot-tub ratio isn’t factored into U.S. News & World Report Rankings?

1. Warmth
Literally what the fuck is with this snow? I thought it was like April or some ish like that. Didn’t we kill Punxatawnee Phil? Seriously, this is some bull. But in the warm sands of Tempe, we find an oasis of warmth and sunshine. ASU is the perfect mix of a hot, beach-like climate with no humidity to totally ruin your hair. This warm weather allows for a minimum of clothing, something that you’ll soon see is a key point. This balmy climate has long attracted retirees and schleppers, so why not me? I’ve had it up to HERE with the cold weather! I’m getting’ on up, movin’ on out and sittin’ back down in a lawn chair next to the private pool I assume each ASU student gets.

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2011 Sherman Ave Reader’s Poll: Results

19 Jan

With 122 responses and a wide variety of exceedingly gruesome responses,* we were absolutely thrilled with the success of this year’s poll. So, after much anticipation (drumroll please), we present to you: RESULTS!

The hanging chad of our generation

Most Heinous Event of 2011
With 24% of the vote, the winner was: Rebecca Black’s “Friday” Strikes Youtube. This is undoubtedly the most atrocious non-majority victory we’ve seen since November 2000.

Best Place to Find and Enjoy a Hookup
Also with 24% of the vote, the winner was: A Frat House. Notable write-ins include “Baby Bash ski trip concert” and “Deer season in Indiana.” Surprisingly enough, nobody mentioned Sherman Ave HQ…

Favorite Sherman Ave personality?
With 30% of the vote, the winner was: Sir Edward Twattingworth III. We at the Ave have not a shred of doubt that this will result in a power-trip of unprecedented magnitude, but with Sir T-Worth, we’re used to it. Anything less than Putin-esque levels of self-aggrandizement would be a disappointment.

Best Song of 2011
With 15% of the vote, the winner was: “Someone Like You” by Adele. This can easily be understood by anyone who has ever been within a 5-mile radius of any intoxicated Sherman Ave writer. Or felt love.

Most Mouthgasms per Bite
With 33% of the vote, the winner was: Hot Cookie Bar. Notable write-ins include “your mom” and “Pippa Middleton.”

DAMN YOU HIPSTERS FOR RUINING THE BEANIE FOR ME!!!!

Best Coffee Shop
With 52% of the vote, the winner was: Kafein. This would probably not go over well with one of the respondents who wrote in the answer, “Hipsters are sub-humans.” Ross Packingham intends to use this landslide victory as a clear mandate to bring his Buddhism-influenced beat poetry to Kafein’s stage, supported by Brother Jürgen and Eleanor Kinkervoss on the bongos while Evander Jones attacks the chastity belt around his waist with a chain saw. Sadly, it will only the fourth-most heinous act on stage at that week’s open mic.

Best Place to Get Intoxicated in Public
With 27% of the vote, the winner was: Cozy Noodles. Among the many notable write-ins were: “Barnes and Noble,” “10am MENU class,” and “sidewalk.”

Best A Cappella Group
With 26% of the vote, the winner was: There is no such thing as a good a cappella group. A ruefully valid statement indeed.

Best Movie of 2011
With 29% of the vote, the winner was: Harry Potter 7.2. Notable write-ins include Twilight: Breaking Hymen and Pippa Middleton, both of which feature Morty Schapiro and Kate Upton in starring roles.

Best TV Show of 2011
With 17% of the vote, the winner was: How I Met Your Mother. Apparently people identify with drunken assholes frittering away the golden years of their lives chasing after unsatisfactory one-night stands. Far and away, the most heinous write-in was: “Is The Hills still on? I pick The Hills.”

Please Describe Morty Schapiro in 10 Words or Less
This one was actually too much for us to emotionally process. Top answer: “Why limit it to fewer words than his penis length?” Maybe once Ross Packingham’s poetry career takes off, maybe he’ll compose a sonnet using only these responses and youtube video comments.

What’s Up the Evanston City Council’s Ass?
With 35% of the vote, the winner was: a 14-inch dildo made of molten gummy bears. If that’s not already true, it can certainly be arranged.

Ever wonder how I got the name "Packingham?"

What is your Gender?
With 58% of the vote, the winner was: Female. AWWWWWW YEAHHHHHH!!!! Hey ladies, how’d you like to spend the night with the fourth-most popular Northwestern-centric blog? No?** Haaaaaaave you met Manua?

What Brings You to Sherman Ave?
With a staggering 70% of the vote, the winner was: Facebook. Needless to say, notable write-ins included “Pippa Middleton” and “all of your fucking Facebook posts.”

In conclusion, a huge thank you goes out to everyone who took this poll. We couldn’t do it without you. We hope that you were pleased with our unnecessary heinousness in 2011, and we will do everything in our power to take it to the next level in 2012. Most importantly, we’re comforted to see in the responses that the people who read Sherman Ave are just about as fucked up as the people who write for it.

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*Allowing for a standard error of approximately 69%.
**Fun Fact: The first time Sherman Ave was ever used as a potential pickup line occurred in line for the bathroom at an off-campus party. It was not successful.

The Five Flavors of Motherfucker

16 Dec

Indulge your synesthesia. We’re categorizing the most unpalatable people.

An industrial-size salty motherfucker

Salty Motherfuckers
Let me take you back to the diving board at your local swimming pool. You’d jump, swim to the ladder or the edge, climb out, and then get in line, jump, swim, climb, repeat. There’d be a pretty regular line that formed. But then once, you’d do the sweetest cannonbellywatermelopener dive known to mankind — maybe you’d take a little longer getting out of the water, or you’d stop to bask in compliments from your mom. This is when the Motherfucker would strike. You’d just be getting out of the water when out of the corner of your eye you’d see the kid that jumped in after you swimming to the edge with the urgency of the Space Race, yanking himself out of the water, and powerwalking (or even running, the bastard!) with one greedy eye on YOUR SPOT in line, and the other greedy eye checking back to see if you were gonna try and polite-fight him for it.

As if that weren’t bad enough, if he stole your spot, he’d get on the board and spend ten minutes debating what kind of jump to do with his friends (who were probably hanging on the lane line), while inside you’re screaming, “Accept that any way you flip is going to end up as a belly flop, before I come up there and push you off!” At Northwestern, you can identify these bitchwaffles pulling the same maneuver in the stir-fry or hot cookie bar line. This is why they are Salty Motherfuckers: pouring salt onto a wound is not really dangerous in the long term, but it’s pretty damn agonizing at the time. It makes you want to throw that aforementioned metaphorical salt back into their beady eyes, because it is as harmlessly obnoxious as the Salty Motherfucker.

Even her hair-tests came back positive for motherfucker

Savory Motherfuckers
Hey, remember when Oprah Winfrey had a hissy fit because a closed store wouldn’t reopen for her? Remember when Oprah Winfrey took credit for giving away shit that wasn’t hers? Remember when Oprah Winfrey existed? Yeah. Believe it or not, there are people so pampered that they will throw a tantrum when the Pier1 cashier can’t cater to their every whim by returning an item without a receipt or after 90 days. These are the snarky suburban moms who turn PTA meetings into Attack of the Martyrs Episode III because Little Johnny Do-No-Wrong has excessive allergies, and therefore clearly nobody’s parents should be allowed to bring in homemade birthday cakes. Note to readers: if you are someone who complains about the preparation of truffle shrooms at five-star restaurants or demands compensation for the terrible injuries caused by eating subpar lobster, please put yourself down, because you are irreparably broken and probably in constant pain from your delicate sensitivities. I’d suggest that we make astronomically high maintenance a crime, but then we’d have to arrest them and listen to them complain that their cell wasn’t padded enough.

Proceed with caution, as it can be very difficult to discern the difference between motherfuckers and simple guidos

Sour Motherfuckers
They’re assholes and they know it. Anyone who is inexplicably, selfishly, mercilessly malicious should have both their tongues and their genitals removed without anesthesia. Humans have hearts. If you suck as a human being, you do not deserve to contribute to the gene pool for fear that your children will grow up to be the kind of Motherfucker that does terrible things to people without even having to rationalize them. Examples of Sour Motherfucking include using someone who cares about you, sabotaging someone’s lab, lying about an STD, ruining others’ reputations, and touching children where they should not be touched. To be clear: Tucker Max’s shocking shenanigans usually fall under the category of harmlessly unpleasant Salty Motherfucker. The despicable bitch that somehow wound up in your sorority who ran for Recruitment Chair so she could put the freshmen down is a Sour Motherfucker. It’s all about the motives.

Ross Packingham's image of the perfect woman

Sweet Motherfuckers
These are the breed of superhumans whose perfection we will never attain and therefore must criticize. They are effortlessly attractive, intelligent, accomplished, athletic, stylish, polished, and well-spoken. They do not trip over their words. They do not trip over anything. They are the parents who jog with strollers containing the adorably well-trained future polite society of Icelandic Snow Owl benefits. And you know they’re probably good in bed. Arguably the worst Motherfucker, these cuntmuffins won’t even give you the decency of visibly fucking you over so you can hate them. If you express your certainty that there is something “off” about them (the possibility that they are actually a robot), you will almost certainly be met with shock from the believers in the tenured reputation of the android, who will shun you as either insane or jealous. Sweet Motherfuckers are more like aspartame than sugar: fake, carcinogenic, and typically lacking in caloric content. Breathe, fellow fuckups of the world: at least we’re more idiosyncratic.

This Evanston Councilman hasn't smiled in over 17 years

Bitter Motherfuckers
The Evanston City Council says one of their most frequently asked questions is: “What’s up your ass?” Since they cannot diagnose it themselves, Sherman Avenue will: They are Bitter Motherfuckers, the species of Motherfucker so filled with regret that the only thing left for them to do is to ensure that everyone else ends up unhappier than Edward Scissorhands trying to masturbate; that is to say, as unhappy as they are. But it’s not limited to the former premed/prelaw students who resent that their focus and initiative (translation: staunch denial of their own humanity) during their college days allowed them a very comfortable life in WASP’s nests. Other Bitter Motherfuckers include Denny’s waiters, certain unsuccessful starving artists, and (understandably) anyone working in retail on Black Friday. The best way to deal with these Motherfuckers is to maintain high levels of happiness in spite of their best efforts. Yes, it’s hard to do when they’re busy removing kids’ rights to trick-or-treat, cohabitate like sardines, or party like it’s Y2K. But there is no better revenge than the confidence of knowing you have a hopeful future and a pleasant present. Schadenfreude, bitches.

Ask not what heinousness can do for you. Ask what you can do for your heinousness.

Sherman Ave Freshman Guide: Dorm Life

26 Aug

The legendary Tupac Shakur once famously stated, “I didn’t choose the thug dorm life, the thug dorm life chose me.” For several reasons, surviving dorm life can certainly be one of the most difficult challenges you’ll face your freshman year. While some things (ex: People vomiting outside of your room and covering it up with printer paper) are out of your control, the proper knowledge and expectation of what lies ahead can help equip you for a successful year.

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