As he approaches the green fields of commencement, Gossip Guy has been getting really intimate with his pet bong, Billy Bong Thornton, leaving him little time for sharp-eyed observations on the nuanced social lives of Harvard idiots. Thankfully, his sober-er sister Gossip Gal is on the case with a little help from her friends. Together they bring you an incredible dose of clear-headed lies, pure-lunged rumors, and urine-test-passing innuendo.
Striking Out on the Home Stretch
After striking out with every waitress, B.U. freshman, ambiguously gay bouncer and—gasp—even Cecile L. Duquesne ’04 at the First Chance Dance, Mel E. Otters ’04 and Moishe Z. Steinowitz ’0 4 found their ways back to sophomore year fuck buddies Gertrude C. Stuart ’04 and Nina S. Paddington ’04. But after exhausting himself with a 9,437,621,805th-place finish in the Marathon, Otters can only muster a 10-second wind sprint. At least he’s been able to break out of the starting gate, which is more than can be said for Steinowitz.
I’m Not Vain, Just Very, Very Beautiful
Wannabe harlot Gardenia M. Orchardsby ’04 looked soooooo hot in that dress the other night—according to her online diary, which was religiously read by a small but devoted cadre of fans in 20 DeWolfe. Orchardsby’s devotees were crushed when she recently took the site down for unspecified reasons, but appreciated the shoutout on her away message when she complained that she “really wasn’t that interesting, despite the fact that everyone at this school seems to read my journal.” Don’t worry, Gardenia—we weren’t laughing with you, we were laughing at you...
White Powder, White Power: No Diff
According to sources now or previously engaged in, um, special relationships with members of certain Mt. Auburn St. social organizations, two such clubs are embroiled in a harrowing “identity crisis.” Gossip Gal, who hasn’t been inside either club since she was a prefrosh sleeping on Gossip Guy’s futon, knows one thing: the clubs’ members may no longer all be white, but the powder they shovel into their nostrils on a nightly basis certainly is...
Anal Not Retentive
After maturely deciding not to have intercourse because they lacked a condom, Wallace MacTavish Edwards III ’05 and Slippery P. Slope ’06 elected for the medically validated prophylactic alternative: buttsex. However, dismissing pharmacists’ warnings in the heat of the moment, they decided to decongest her anal cavity with the most readily available viscous fluid in the room: DayQuil (non-drowsy). Slope’s subsequent allergic reaction and rectal hemorrhage, deposited timeless proof of the law of unintended consequences all over the bed—which, fortunately for Slope, belonged not to her but her roommate, who returned later that night and, after careful consideration, elected to sleep on the futon.
Just Happy to See Her
The revolution may not be televised, but everyone at a recent production of Kerouac-quoting, stigmata-bearing, porc-munching Jack L. Deluge ’04’s comedy “Oily White Sky” could see the revolution in his pants as he straddled Margaret O. Sasser ’04 and painted vaguely sexual anti-corporate slogans on her body. Maybe someday his subversive art will be allowed upstairs in his building...
