A Comprehensive Timeline of Your Lifetime Crushes

Preschool crush: You may not have realized it at the time, but you definitely had a crush on someone at preschool. Your preschool crush was the coolest boy in the class: the one whose mom let him wear his hat backwards on their walk to school and built the biggest block towers every single day. EVERY girl wanted to play with this kid. One time, all the girls probably formed a circle with the boy in the middle, joined hands and chanted his name in what appeared to adults as some sort of kiddie-satanic ritual: Dominick, Dominick, Dom-i-nick. He ate that shit up.

3^rd grade crush: Your third grade crush was the first boy you ever thought wasn’t completely gross. He was a total jock. He could

Luv Conquers @ll: The AIM Parlance between Two Star-Crossed 12-Year-Old Lovebirds

With Valentine’s Day approaching, instead of posting a “103 Reasons Why Being Single Is Awesome Justifications for Being Single and Hating Yourself” article, we thought we could revisit our flirtatious internet 6th grade selves on Valentine’s Day. What fun. Our archivists here at the Ave had to dig all the way past our now nonexistent dignity to The Awkward Ages, but we found the records. We found them, and after much deliberation we have determined that they must be published completely uncensored for the sake of journalistic integrity. Luckily, we also have documentation of BruneteBarbie14’s reactions to certain messages from s0cc3r_d00d.

s0cc3r_d00d: hey

Oh. My. God. He said hey. He’s so cute when he IMs me hey. What do I say? Be cool, be cool.

BruneteBarbie14: hey

s0cc3r_d00d: wats up

9 Milestones You Hit in the 9 Years The Office has been on TV

Said everyone when The Office stopped running.

For those of us who are soon-to-be rising seniors, The Office has been a fixture in our lives since we were greasy haired seventh graders trying to cope with the idea that there could be letters in a math problem (seriously, WTF still?). Although the last few seasons have been lackluster, we have to admit that we used to drop everything on Thursday night to invite Michael, Pam, Jim, and Dwight into our homes and our hearts. So in celebration of tonight’s series finale, let’s take a look at some of the adolescent milestones we experienced over the course of The Office‘s nine-year tenure.

2005: Received some wisdom from your middle school health teacher.

2006: Went to your first school dance. You were too scared to grind to Ms. New Booty, but you managed to blend in somehow.

Love a Random State: Ohio

I may be a tad bit biased, but Ohio is a pretty badass state. We fuck up pretty much every Presidential Election. We can’t make decisions on anything from street cars to abortion. We are some waffling motherfuckers, and I’m not talking about McGriddles. Besides being a political asshole, here are some other reasons you should bow down and worship my state of conception/birth/childhood.

The beautiful metropolis of Cleveland

1. Ohio is the 7th largest state by population.
Cincinnati is the 61st largest city in the nation by population.* Being mediocrely medium-sized takes all the pressure off being big. We may not have the hustle and bustle of New York or the flotsam and jetsam of Chicago, but we sure do have a lot of wide open spaces and corn. This makes for some great middle school field trips, like visiting an Amish farm and learning how to properly milk a cow or taking a spin on a tea-cup-death-trap-vomit-inducing ride while eating a stick of deep-fried butter at the local carnival.

2. Subpar athletics.
I may not be an expert when it comes to sports. I didn’t vehemently protest the NBA lockout, I do not worship Tebow born from the Virgin Mother, nor do I have any vague inkling as to what Royal Shrovetide Football is really all about. However, I do know one thing: If the Cincinnati Bengals were running in the Republican primaries, they would rank somewhere above Michelle Bachmann and somewhat below Stephen Colbert. They may suck at football and politics, but the Bengals have quite a record off the field. Since 2000, the team has a combined criminal record of 30 arrests, 8 DUIs, and 1 charge of “boating under the influence.”** I’m not really sure how this makes Ohio awesomely badass, but it does.

3. Larger than life Presidents.
We produced President William Howard Taft, the man who couldn’t fit in a normal bathtub. In fact, a bathtub fit for four men was installed in the White House just for him. I bet VP James Sherman had a pretty good time in there, seeing as he was a normal sized man. (That leaves room for three more people, for those of you who are still in Math 110).

O-hi-OH!!!!

4. Ohio is beautiful.
OK, maybe just Halle Berry is. Halle Berry was Miss Ohio 1986. At 19, Halle managed to lock down a state title and first runner-up for the Miss USA pageant. Pretty badass, Ms. Berry.

5. Badass motherfuckers in office.
Jerry Springer, host of The Jerry Springer Show, served on Cincinnati’s city council for three years, before resigning when Jerry’s favorite hang-out was revealed: a Kentucky “massage parlor.”*** But it only gets better: he paid his “masseuse” with a city check. It doesn’t get much classier than that. He was then elected the mayor of Cincinnati from 1977-1978. We obviously know how to choose effective leaders.

6. In Ohio, it is illegal to get a fish drunk.****
Need I say more?

7. Where art thou, Ohio?
There actually aren’t many NU students from Ohio. There should certainly be more Amish, chili-loving, politically frustrated, Midwesterners up in Northwestern’s business. However, this makes for some great feedback. Apparently, Californians have no fucking clue where Ohio is. My roommate thought it was near Iowa and her friend could swear she thought it was south of Illinois. I guess they don’t teach Geography in the Bay Area. As a loyal Ohioan and a college student with half my brain still intact despite raging alcoholism and mind numbing, drug-induced Sporcle competitions, I know exactly where Ohio is: right between New Mexico and Arizona. Right?

8. Home of Skyline Chili.
Although none of you Northside Prep trust-fund babies or LTHS fanboys have heard of Skyline, enlighten yourselves. Cincinnati’s definition of chili: chocolate (yes, chocolate) ground beef soup poured over spaghetti noodles and topped with neon yellow, synthesized, shredded cheddar cheese. Mouth-o-meter: fucking delicious.

9. Hipsterz.
Searching for the inner-sanctum of hipsterism? Look no further. Clifton, a small neighborhood on the outskirts of downtown Cincinnati, is a hub of culture and excitement. 98% of Clifton residents are Democrat, making us some badass, Obama loving hippies. 98% of us also love Indian food. Why? There are 7 locally owned Indian restaurants in Clifton. Step outside my house and take a good whiff of Saag Paneer and Chicken Curry. Yum. You can always find a homeless town troubadour belting out his love life with the aid of his trusty accordion. Besides musicians, we are also home to many other badass personalities, such as the mysterious bag man who, although he appears to be homeless, goes to the grocery store every day and picks up 3 lemons, a loaf of bread, and a bag of kitty litter. Meth lab, anyone? There is also the penguin man who yells at cars going over 25, the local business owners who all seem to be tangled in a Romeo and Juliet-esque love affair, and my personal favorite, the middle school drug dealers who hang out at the shelter in Burnet Woods after school. (Whoops, did I just blow your cover?)

Take a trip back in time

10. We have one of the largest Amish populations in the country.
Amish people are badass. Love the Amish, and eat their chicken; it’s free-range!

Needless to say, Ohio is a badass state. If this article has convinced you to pack up your Illinois life (or wherever the fuck you’re from) and move to Ohio, call my step dad. He’s a realtor.

——————————————————————————————————————————
*Sporcle. Yeah, I did it. I used Sporcle as a source. Try to censor that, PIPA.
**NKY Sports World
***Massage parlor = brothel
****Twitter

The Shoulder Thing

As a member of society with an available soapbox, I feel that it is necessary to warn you of a disgusting phenomenon in our society. This little-known gesture of disdain and douchiness has plagued middle schools for ages, but seeing its use among the heinously classy students of Northwestern brings me to my knees.

It is commonly known as “The Shoulder Thing.”

Imagine, for example, a group of friends have formed a circle. They are having a very deep and intimate conversation in which minds are being enlightened and lives are being changed.

A friend or acquaintance overhears snippet of said conversation and wishes to contribute.

However, the shoulders of persons A and B are too close together, and the new member cannot contribute to the conversation.

This is known as “The Shoulder Thing.”

Persons A and B are Motherfuckers because they can hear their friend knocking on the conversation’s door, politely requesting entry with his presence, and don’t move. Person C is also Motherfucker because he is physically looking into the face of the shunned and doesn’t say anything.

So much douchery is implied, and the Motherfuckers don’t even have the decency to outright shun the outsider. They strand him on the outside, disappointed and confused, like a freshmen girl calling Saferide at 3:27 AM when she finally thinks the line won’t be busy only to find that she’s too late and they’re no longer open, and now she’s either got to ask a frat bro she barely knows to walk her all the way south, go alone and risk running into the Smartphone Pirates, or hook up with a guy to get a place for the night.

Typically, circles of Motherfuckers will simply ignore the presence of the outsider, interrupting his stuttered attempts at contribution as if to say, “You are not worth the time it takes me to listen to your comment. You are not worth a momentary pity nod. However, my comment is incredibly important and significantly more valuable than whatever you are going to say.” Seriously, even Kanye, the most narcissistic of disruptive douchebags, was gonna let Taylor finish. Hell, Kanye even let Taylor start.

Here is an illustration of how to properly do The Shoulder Thing. As demonstrated, Persons A and B angle their shoulders so as to be enlightened by the insightful remark about to be made by their acquaintance.

You and your friends are tight. You are tighter than a hipster’s pants, tighter than a nun’s poontang, tighter than Kate Upton in an A-cup. We get it. The inside jokes are enough to make potential newcomers awkwardly excuse themselves from a conversation with a comment like, “I’ll be over there jerking off in your Apple Jacks, because it’s more visibly appreciative of my input.” You probably don’t like the outsider, or you’d welcome them. But you don’t have to be such a Motherfucker about it.

You must be the heinous you wish to see in the world.