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Crimson staff writer

Olivia M. Munk

Latest Content

Olivia Munk
Endpaper

Consider the Punster

As I’m no Shakespeare, my puns are rarely granted more than a groan, sigh, head smack, or a less-than-occasional “get out.” For as long as I can remember, my relentless punning has been a running joke among my friends.

Sleep

Compulsive Tardy Syndrome

I once saw a meme on Tumblr that showed someone texting a friend that they would be late because of who they are as a person; I put the “me” in that meme.

The Harvard Crimson

The Passing of the FM Torch

CORDELIA F. MENDEZ ’16 , Chair I’m not going to say Cordelia F. Mendez ’16 could run the world, but I’m confident that she could at least run the country. That’s because Cordelia is easily one of the most competent people you will ever meet. And if you haven’t met her yet, then you should, because she is as smiley and friendly as she is capable.

Pot-ty Mouth
Fifteen Most Interesting

Jon D. Young

Jon Young is probably the only Uber driver in the Class of 2016.

Levity

Clover, It's Time to Break Up

I hear you’re leaving me at the end of next semester. While it was hurtful to hear about your move from third parties, I get it—breakups are hard. Yes, I know the b-word may be a little sudden, and yes, I know you have another location in Central. I just can’t.

A Little Levity

Teen Mag Quiz: Why Am I Cold?

You have literally no idea how to deal with the season that comes between November and March. No, tights with shorts doesn’t count as winter wear. Find a native New England friend and have them teach you the ways of the windy, frigid world.

Best Iced Coffee Around Harvard
Student Life

Around Town: Iced Coffee in The Square

The first day of spring was this past Saturday, meaning that it is a blustery 30 degrees in Cambridge when I set out to begin my day on Sunday afternoon. Still, it’s 90 degrees somewhere—more specifically, it’s 90 degrees in the exotic locales my classmates are returning from, as they climb off of airplanes sunburned and with an Instagram feed much sunnier than mine (the status of my bank account vehemently vetoed any kind of international or trans-coastal flight).

Food and Drink

A Guide for You Yale Visitors

Hi, Yale friends. It can be hard navigating the Harvard social scene (though not as hard as navigating the New Haven crime scene). FM came up with some tips that should help you have a good time after The Game.

Retrospection

History of Pranks at Harvard

Pranks and hoaxes are an important part of Harvard’s history.

Scrutiny

Timeline: Beer at Harvard

1637: John Harvard moves from England to Massachusetts Bay Colony. He dies later that year, leaving money to New College, which is later renamed for its greatest benefactor. Harvard develops plans to build a brewery on its campus. Legend has it that Harvard learned the art of beer brewing from family friend William Shakespeare. One could say that the College’s on-campus brewery used recipes directly from the “First Folio.”

College

Teen Mag Quiz: Which Junior Parents Meal Are You At?

Whether they’re in the comfort of your own home or in the immeasurable discomfort of a college d-hall, meals with your parents are inevitable and awkward. After months of collegiate independence, the onslaught of one-on-two time with the pair that raised you can be disorienting. Because fake-texting is taxing, FM’s got you covered with a distracting dinner-time questionnaire to help you figure out: what meal are you at with your parents?

Fifteen Most Interesting

Michael S. Segel

Theater

Coordinates: WTF

Downtown Williamstown, MA has two streets: Spring, and Water. In the dead of winter in the Berkshires, it is crawling with shivering Williams College students seeking solace in the lone coffee shop. In the summer, it is actors clad sleekly in black and designers in paint-splattered jeans that stalk the two streets.

Endpaper: Olivia Munk
Endpaper

Endpaper: Olivia Munk

Olivia Munk

Endpaper: Olivia Munk
Endpaper

How Someone Else's Velvet Jacket Got Me Rejected From Yale

It was a chilly Sunday in March during my sophomore year of high school. That Sunday was one of those days when you know you should still be in jackets and boots, but the promise of spring is so enticing that you brave the wind in just a cardigan. My friend Orly and I boarded the E train from Queens with only vague directions in mind on how to get to Williamsburg. Forty-five minutes and two boroughs later, we emerged from the L train onto Bedford Avenue in Brooklyn.

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