In honor of Career Week, Gossip Guy brings you a resume of lies, a portfolio of rumors and gainfully employed innuendos.
After losing its house just over a year ago, Sigma Chi has gone and lost its pride, resorting to mandatory dorm crew duties to pay off the expenses of its open-invitation frat parties. In an instance of the “grass being greener,” several members of the well-heeled Porcellian, which does not allow visitors at all, have complained of the challenges of working around their club’s restrictive guest policies. “The limited dating pool makes planning for club formals such an ordeal,” says Porc member Julian I. Baumgarden ’05. “I mean, I have to get a new tweed coat and oxfords for every event and there isn’t a soul in here who hasn’t tried to get in my pants at least once.”
Toward the end of her birthday festivities last weekend, a pleasantly drunk Jenny L. Jacobi ’07 cut the line at the men’s bathroom and sought relief at the first available urinal, where she exhibited remarkable marksmanship given her state of inebriation and general lack of a penis. However, the gent at the adjacent urinal became discomforted by her presence , and perhaps also by her superior aim, asking her to relocate while in mid-stream. Jacobi turned to face her accuser, stating defiantly, “It’s my party and I’ll piss where I want to.”
Currently in the grips of the so-called “Chocolate Hostage Crisis of 2003”—in which an unknown perpetrator mistook a washing machine for the crapper—Adams House residents are divided over who in fact was the culprit. Most believe the accident was likely the innocent act of a drunken interloper, who assumed that the toilets in Adams, like all other things, were simply more “wonderful” and “glorious” than those elsewhere.
Others have pointed the finger at Adams’s very own man-about campus, Robert Gupta ’04. The theory holds that after four consecutive days without a direct mention in The Crimson, Gupta may have laid the loads in a desperate plea for attention. “It couldn’t have been me” says Gupta, “I really don’t have time to eat, let alone...anyway, I really appreciate the opportunity to clear my name in print. If there are any other allegations—anything at all—that I can refute on the record don’t hesitate to let me know...you can quote me on that.”
One of the senior class’s most eccentric members, Thompson S. Craaps ’04, had his class marshal bid go the way of his UC presidential candidacy, as he failed to secure one of the final spots. It seems that Craaps’s promise to host the first senior bar at the Cambridge Home for the Aged and Infirmed—an event titled “Boozin’ wit’ da Biddies”—and to schedule a lesbian midget ultimate fighting cage match (to the death) in lieu of a class day speaker didn’t resonate with voters. When asked to comment on the outcome of the elections, Craaps furiously flipped his feather boa around his neck, stared pensively into the distance and said, “I’m simply misunderstood”—in ancient Norse.
Dave G. Mainland ’05 is turning 21 this weekend. To celebrate the occasion, Mainland’s roommates purchased a rather feminine assemblage of drinks, including a case of Mike’s Hard Lemonade, 5 boxes of Franzia, a magnum of Peach Schnapps, and no less than 12 handles of Malibu. Says Mainland of his roommate’s generosity, “I really appreciate their efforts, but I’m more of whiskey man myself…[pause]…but, my [16 year-old] sister Becky’s coming up this weekend and she really likes Schnapps, Mike’s and, umm, Malibu…[pause]…Oh, Jesus.”
And, finally, to the guy on the shuttle who was overheard lamenting that Gossip Guy has gotten a little too wordy, verbose even, this year: Sucka deez nutz, biatch.
