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Tag Archives: rush

APPLY TO BE A WRITER FOR SHERMAN AVE!!! (Spring 2014 Remix Edition)

30 Mar

Sherman Ave LogoHey reader. How’s it going? Well? That’s good.

Isn’t it nice that spring is here? The snow is melting; the sun is beginning to shine; and warmer, brighter, and more pleasant temperatures are on the way. In general, it is a time when everything seems better and more promising.

If you’re the kind of person who detracts from such happiness and joy, then you should apply to be a writer for Sherman Ave!

That’s right, boys and girls; we’re looking for a brand new (rotting) crop of the most atrocious, immoral, and all-around heinous scribes and scribettes that we can find. And there’s a chance that YOU could be in that crop! Isn’t that exciting? ANSWER YES IT’S EXCITING IT’S VERY EXCITING.

So how do you apply? First, download the Sherman Ave application here. (Or here. Or here.) Fill that fucker out the bestest you can, and then submit it electronically to shermanave1@gmail.com no later than 11:59 PM on Friday, April 11th. If we think you’d be a good fit, you will be invited to an individual, in-person interview. The interview will take place at some point during the day on Friday, April 18th. If we REALLY REALLY like you, you will then be selected to participate in a super-special group interview, which will take place the following day: Saturday, April 19th.

A few things to keep in mind: Contrary to popular belief, you do NOT have to be a Northwestern student to write for Sherman Ave. We love everybody in the entire world equally, and if you’re funny, we’d be psyched to have you.

Also, make sure to BE YOURSELF on your application!!!! In all seriousness, we can’t stress this enough: write in your own, personal voice. We want to hear you, and what you think is funny, not what you think a Sherman Ave writer should sound like. If you only want to make jokes about the War of 1812, then go for it. Just stay true to who YOU think you are as a writer.

Tl;dr: Apply for Sherman Ave!!! HERE’S THE LINK TO THE APPLICATION AGAIN.

Have a heinous, heinous day.

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20 Reasons why we’re so fucking glad that sorority recruitment is done

16 Jan

exhausted-woman (1)1. Now I have 40 more Facebook friends. Can some1 say #popular?

2. Sleep

3. When I speak to people, there can be a natural pause in the conversation and I don’t have to worry that the other person will think I’m weird or awkward

4. Today my alarm went off and I was like oh I should get up and shower and then I was like nah and slept for another 25 minutes

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If Ernest Hemingway Went Through Sorority Recruitment

10 Jan

Ernest_Hemingway_at_the_Finca_Vigia,_Cuba_1946

I stood in line in front of the house with the others. It was a little too cold outside. On all sides of the quad, there were similar lines to get into similar houses. The houses along the sides of the quad were long and white. The railings were coated with frost and the awnings sagged under the weight of the snow. My RC brought me into the house.

“This is Ernest,” she said, introducing me to a sister.

“Hi Ernest! Welcome to Pi Gamma Tau. It’s nice to meet you.”

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Ermahgerd Recruitment: Your guide to translating and understanding Sorority Rush

9 Jan
Diversity!

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:

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Fraternity gives bid to freezer door through loophole in chill-to-pull grading system

9 Jan

EVANSTON, Ill.–In an embarrassing turn of events, a chapter within the Northwestern Greek life community—they have requested to remain anonymous—has admitted the door to a local freezer in an attempt to honor the age-old chill-to-pull system that has been a doctrine of fraternity culture since its invention in the early 20th century.

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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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From Wildkittens to Wildcougars: A GIF Journey from Freshman to Senior Year at Northwestern

2 Sep

Dear Class of 2017,

Three short years ago the class of 2014 shuffled at the pace of a dehydrated desert tortoise because everyone’s parents felt the need to take photos every five steps marched through the arch and commenced the drunk, sweaty adventure that was Wildcat Welcome 2010. In a few weeks, we’re really looking forward to sitting on our front porches, drinking beer that isn’t Busch Light, and watching you wander aimlessly as you try to find that awesome party near the corner of Maple and Simpson.

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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.