Harvard, ever the cultural arbiter, rejected plans to bring Snoop Dogg to campus last week, citing concerns over police presence, additional costs, and a lot of other bullshit excuses. Seriously, what the fuck? Wellesley just got Ludacris for their spring soiree, and we’re left with reading period and a radio station that plays classical music 22 hours a day.
—Michael M. Grynbaum
DRUNK’S VOMIT MATCHES SHIRT!
Sartorial Integrity Maintained Despite Margarita Mishap!
The dress code at last week’s First Chance Dance was stop, slow down, speed up—and that goes for the traffic light-colored outfits and the really, really awkward sex afterwards. Sources say an air of desperation hung over the sea of sex-starved seniors like a slowly descending sword of Damocles. (English majors and Crimson Key geeks, all together now: Phallic symbol.) Since Harvard students couldn’t recognize a social semaphore if it started tickling their genitals, party organizers decreed a red, green, and yellow clothing system, allowing happy couples to flaunt their gloating, we’re-better-than-you-and-get-laid-on-a-regular-basis attitudes and alerting virginal nebbishes to the wannabe whores in their wake. Gauche, but effective.
We hear three eligible Eliot gents came dressed only in blue, confirming to the women in attendance that men are always sending mixed signals. Meanwhile, one senior managed to vomit all over her dress—which luckily was already colored an orangey-yellow hue. Pretty and practical!
This week Gadfly bids a temporary adieu to one of its nearest and dearest. Suffice to say the size of our audience just dropped about 25 percent. We’re missin’ you on this end—keep keepin’ it real down in the ’burbs. Dayenu!
—MMG, SMS and SWVL
SORORITY ON THE SEA