Gossip Guy’s throwing caution to the wind and leaving his Glock and Kevlar vest at home for this year’s Harvard-Yale. Get ready to take cover kids, Gossip Guy is firing some .44 caliber lies, poison-tipped innuendos and cop-killer rumors.
Adolf R. Levinson ’04 certainly knows how to get his way with the ladies. Last Friday, in the middle of an otherwise polite chit-chat with Bailey C. Gonzalez ’04, he couldn’t resist noting how much she reminds him of Tanya Harding, former Olympian, assault co-conspirator and star of Fox’s celebrity female boxing. Levinson, who suffers from a mild case of Tourrettes, was surprised when Gonzalez didn’t take the compliment as it was intended. “I simply meant that she is a strong and determined woman,” says Levinson. Apparently not strong and determined enough; a club-wielding Gonzalez was only able to fracture Levinson’s knee before friends forcibly separated the pair.
It’s final club elections time again and love is in the air at the final clubs. With the punch classes having been whittled away through a rigorously meritocratic process of social selection, punchmasters are left to salivate over punches who made each other’s wish lists. Says Brendan J. Murphy ’06 of his favorite punch, Jim, “I just want Jim to know we love him a lot and that we’ll all be pretty disappointed if he doesn’t join the Spee, but we’ll pull through somehow no doubt, with the help of a lot of cookie dough ice cream and a few bitter tears.”
Drug-sluts of the world, unite! Hyper-active student activist Gabby G. Crick ’05 has learned not to mix business with pleasure the hard way. She suspects her weed man of a hit and run. The morning after a late night herbal acquisition, Crick couldn’t locate her new stash and assumed her dealer swiped it, despite the 17 joint butts in her ash tray that speak to the contrary. Says Crick, “What a chauvinist thing to do—he comes to my room, sells me my shit, lets me hook-up with him, then steals it all back so I would be marginalized in the role of drug-slut the next morning.” The very next evening, Crick made a point to confront her weed man with the allegations, but instead just hooked up with him again.
Eldrick Tiger Patel ’04 believes he has proven that senior fun and thesis writing are not mutually exclusive. Through the dense fog of his phatty blunt, Patel proclaimed, “Life is great. I’ve got no worries. Umm, or thesis…or, ugghh, job.”
After years enduring the mockery of his friends and peers at Harvard, Stan T. Carloff ’05, a resident of the city of New Haven (yes, he actually lives there), has given up on his futile defense of his hometown. This weekend at the Game, don’t think Carloff’s not going to get a little payback from all the fair Elm City’s detractors. “Sure I know the gang signs you need to flash to avoid getting shot on the way from the Yale Bowl. But, sadly, they’ve just momentarily slipped my mind,” says Carloff.
English concentrator and thesis writer Howard P. Shöwentel ’04 has devised a clever way of deflecting assertions that he took the easy way out in choosing to write a “creative” thesis, a screenplay no less. Says Shöwentel, “I just tell them what they want to hear—that the movie follows a gang of five ninjas who trek across the ends of the earth seeking retribution against a renegade one-eyed pirate who, in epic battle, shot their father in the back.
“It’s a pretty funny joke to play on people,” says Shöwentel with a laugh, “my movie only has two ninjas.”
