As the Brunswick Blackout worsens, Thorne’s food supply has reportedly been depleted. Entering day two of the crisis, many students say they cannot find any vegan desserts in the dining hall. “I live for Sin City,” said junior Nancy Goldstein. “When Dining announced it was all eaten, I took a deep breath and headed to the Specials Fridge. When I got there, though, there was only Jello left. You know, they make Jello out of horses.”
While the Harpoon cannot confirm that Jello is made from horses, Goldstein and other Bowdoin Outing Club members protested the lack of vegan desserts by singing a rendition of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” in front of the dining Hall.
“I think it went well,” said senior Vince Schwalb, who provided piano accompaniment. “We’re in dire straits, you see. Everyone loves Journey. People love Journey almost as much as we love vegan desserts. Also, everyone really loved our performance. We received rousing applause from all our friends, and when I told my mom about it on the phone, she said it sounded nice.”
Thorne Hall’s spokesperson told the Harpoon that Dining apologizes for the lack of vegan desserts; however, they said, “Are you fucking kidding me? I’d like to see Moulton do this.”
While visiting her daughter during Family Weekend, Mariah Aarons attempted to relive her college days by spending all of Saturday in the Hawthorne-Longfellow library.
Aarons attended Cornell University, where she went to a total of three and a half parties. The remainder of her weekends were spent holed up in the library, a practice she repeated while visiting her daughter this weekend. “Family Weekend is a great time to reminisce about what we parents loved the most about college,” said Aarons. “For example, like, staying up until 5:00 AM to finish a civics paper.”
Security reported that when they attempted to remove Aarons from the library, she vomited immediately. “I always loved pulling that one at Cornell,” said the post doctorate mother of three. “They’d say it was closing time and I’d make myself throw up, and while they waited for somebody to come and check on me, I’d crank out another paragraph or two.”
Sophomore Sofia Aarons, who has twenty nine presentations, sixty papers, and four hundred and three exams to study for next week, is excited to be spending so much of Family Weekend with her mother.
Although reclusive first year student Steve Johnson often feels uncomfortable during intimate, excrement-related interactions, he recently found himself in one of these unfortunate situations with a football player from down the hall. “I typically avoid putting myself in awkward and vulnerable positions,” Johnson admitted, “but you know, shit happens.”
Johnson continued, “I walked into the bathroom, and, as soon as I took a whiff, I knew I was not alone. Usually, I would have left, constipated myself, and come back later, but this time it was very clear: I would have to embark upon that seemingly endless journey into the vacant stall, strategically place toilet paper onto the seat, and sit down. After a few minutes, grunting emanated from both of us, and, in our excremental harmony, I realized we weren’t so different, him and I. Immediately following the culminations of our fecal journeys, our feet touched in the space under the wall and I realized that maybe we’re more alike than I had ever thought.
Reflecting on the experience, Johnson noted, “even though we have virtually nothing else in common, in that moment, we were just two of God’s creatures, shitting our brains out, and that was enough for us. I will never forget those five minutes with Greg. Best five minutes of my life.”
Inebriated student Matt Snyder replicated Euclid’s ‘Golden Ratio’ in the Ladd House bathroom last weekend. According to one student, it resulted in “a fucking mess.”
For decades, Math majors and other sexless intellectuals have tried to perfect what is, perhaps, Euclid’s most notable contribution to our understanding of the modern party bathroom. Until Snyder, nobody had come close to a proper recreation of Euclid’s work.
“Well, in all honesty, I’m usually a peeing with the seat up, stream down the side of the bowl kind of guy—tidy stuff,” said Snyder when asked about his methods, “but that night, my bladder was at critical mass, and there was this first-year from Hyde who was totally hogging the toilet, puking or blacking out or whatever. I couldn’t risk another public urination charge, so I had no other choice but to barge in there, unzip, close my eyes, and let the spirit of Euclid take the reins.”
Snyder can be found in most College House basements applying Thales’ Theorem to kegs or arranging beer pong cups according to Pascal’s Triangle.
Bearded sophomore Leo Whiteman was seen yesterday reading a copy of James Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake in the middle of the VAC Art Library, reportedly for pleasure.
“It’s a pretty tough read, which is probably why it’s not on the syllabus of any offered courses at Bowdoin,” Whiteman said to the room in general, unprompted. “I decided to add it to my personal reading list that I keep on the inside cover of my pocket-sized black Moleskin notebook, and the rest is history.”
Whiteman, who located himself centrally in the second-floor arts library, says that he often reads such difficult seminal works “purely for pleasure.” He said his literary prowess increased after attaining his non-prescription Warby Parker glasses from a free trial offered in one of his favorite podcasts.
“There’s nothing better than sitting with a nice, long book surrounded by like-minded intellectuals who can see you reading it,” Whiteman continued, his bare feet slipping in and out of his Birkenstocks with his glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose.
When the VAC is too crowded, Whiteman listed the Café sofas and Brunswick’s Little Dog Coffee Shop as his favorite alternate locations. He added that he “takes his coffee black,” but that it’s “not a big deal or anything.”
Whiteman’s fellow Reed House members noted that he is a “complete fucking asshole,” and that “they’re working on it.”