A Dash of Insanity
Pfister and Gus
But after reflecting for a while, I’ve come to an odd realization: I’m actually kind of excited. Not because he is leaving. But because, even though he is not around for much longer, I think Pfister’s best is still to come.
The Game of Undertones
But this time around, I really, really didn’t want to hear anything. I had just returned from a long weekend at The Game and had to write that night. For the past few days, I had been around people all the time, shouted with them, and laughed with them. I also had a bit of headache after drinking a lot of “totally non-alcoholic drinks.” Like, I had a lot of “totally non-alcoholic drinks.” And beer.
Farting in Winthrop Library
That may seem repulsively immodest, but it needed to be said. My farts leave my body so swiftly and so silently, that they often go unappreciated. That is, until smelled. But at that point, the only experience is pain—leaving no recognition for the great control exercised by the man who dealt. It’s really unfair, and it has left to me to toot…my own horn.
This Column is Experimenting
Understandably, for those who hear about hookup culture for the first time, it warrants strange reactions. My friend’s response—silence for 35 awkward seconds—was fairly mild. In the media, there are usually two, fiercer types. One says (I’m paraphrasing), “Stop! Stop! Why are you fucking—I mean fudging—well I guess I mean fucking—around like that?!?” The other says, “It allows both sexes to experiment and have fun on an equal playing field.”
