For Halloween, Gossip Guy’s dressing up as a goggled, skull cap-wearing, newspaper-toting fellow of Asian extraction. To encourage others to get in the Halloween spirit, he brings you blood-chilling lies, haunting rumors and inedible innuendos (because, alas, the wrapper’s already been opened).
Taking a cue from the Contact ad campaign, Becky L. Hempstead ’06 has “promised herself that this year would be different.” Indeed, with God as her witness, Hempstead’s only going to go home with varsity athletes this year. And, according to the men’s lacrosse team: so far, so good. In other news, Becky’s House has suffered seven consecutive IM forfeits since the announcement.
Mike C. Biaggi ’04, lead singer of the now defunct band, Biaggi, got more than he bargained for this weekend from a $50 lap dance in New York City. The ten-minute dance with Gemini segued into a two hour heart-to-heart during which the two shared their thoughts on life, love and proper lubrication techniques for chafe-free poll dancing. During the tête-à-teet, Biaggi counseled Gemini on how to balance the stresses of work and family, how to overcome her oxycontin addiction, as well as how best to parlay her experience as an exotic dancer into work as a garage band groupie. For her part, Gemini helped Biaggi come to terms with his congenital inability to hit the high E flat and also provided him with some useful advice on perm deactivators.
Australian native Lucas R. Manning ’05 has made the painful decision to pursue an adult circumcision after two years of hookups that have a gone a little awkwardly when they’ve gone down-under. Until he reaches full recovery in a few weeks, Manning plans to tell future hookups that “a dingo ate his foreskin.”
Daphne P. Anderson ’05 proved that an entire floor of the best restaurant in the Square plus two parents willing to pick up the tab for the open bar is a recipe for one phenomenal 21st birthday party. Coincidentally, that’s also a recipe for great gossip. Toward the end of Sunday’s festivities, Mr. Anderson, who apparently forgot that “open bar” doesn’t mean quite the same thing if you’re the one paying for it, offered a birthday toast that included many memorable lines, not least of all:“When Daphne went to college, we were afraid she wouldn’t have LOF [lots of friends]…now we just hope she’s not having too much LOF [lots of fucking].” When Mr. Anderson was finished, Daphne lead her guests in a series of seven consecutive Grey Goose shots in celebration.
After a string of 36 straight days of “essences” emanating from the common room of Vito Giuliani Mussolini ’04 and Eldrick Tiger Patel ’04, their tutor has expressed concern about their mental health. In an unprecedented medical miracle, Mussolini and Patel have discovered the cure for mental health problems, which apparently involves a strict regimen of Febreze, lots of ventilation, wet towels under all doors and a strategically placed air purification device.
After running out of junk food during an early morning smoking marathon in the Hamptons on Sunday, several members of the Fly momentarily faced deprivation for the first time in their lives. Thankfully the instincts of privilege kicked in just in time to save them—the guys ended up breaking into a neighbor’s house and stealing several boxes of cookies while the family was sleeping soundly upstairs. Says Joel S. Jacobs ’04, “Larceny is all about getting in your zone: I pretended the cookies were a loosely monitored state pension fund and I was its manager.” “I wasn’t nearly as ambitious,” says Mack D. Hartfield ’05, “I just imagined the cookies were my half-brother’s trust fund.”
