So, we were told we had to talk about grad students, despite our persistent and undying requests to print a transcript of our dreamed pong game with Gaga. Seeing as how both of us have been trolled on by grad students in the last two months, we thought we would take a stab at it. So, we ask, who are the drunkest girls at grad school? Where do they go? What (who) do they do? We feared our investigative reporting skills were not up to this challenge, so we tried to find a personal connection. Maybe some are just like us: arguably homeless students with a propensity for pong and self-calling/self-deprecating themselves in The Mirror. Or maybe not.
Instead of finding our counterparts and consequential loves in the grad student classes, we started to consider what we definitively know about grad students: their undying (though occasional and seemingly random) desire to pounce on undergrads.
For most people, the idea of being creeped on by intoxicated and justifiably desperate grad students would be far from flattering (giggle). But for two individuals who are in such a complicated relationship with angst, the prospect of engaging in an alternative hook-up space for the night while being told that our immaturity and tendency to overanalyze pong dates was "endearing," sounded pretty nice. We give you a portrait of the creepers who, if only for a night, kept things angst-free for the drunkest girls.
Sad Grad Student 1: Imagine a poor and sad looking panda of a grad student at a Tuck Cords show. As if trolling at a capella shows isn't sad enough for us undergrads, (partly because everyone there is already wifeyed), this poor cougarlike trick was looking to grab herself some meat-stick, maybe even some meat-stick with an afro.
"You guys were great, do you just sing or do you play pong too?" Good line.
Obviously biddie had been out of the game for awhile, but one of these drunkest girls still went with it.
Fast forward two hours: While being overly proud of her constant low sinks and the sub-par dance skills (think: a crippled lovechild between Beyonce and Chris Reeves too soon), we meet eyes. It's been 12 games, (for the record: she was gone after game 5), and I find myself being wolf-clawed at a cougar party just for two. Nothing but class.
Sad Grad Student 2: Imagine being a Dartmouth alum. Imagine going back to the social space you once frequented and finding it has changed from the true sketch of the 90s into the the classy homelessness of the new millennium (the transition of flannel into a put-together look really screwed things up). What do you do? Clearly, you creep on every piece of tail you can find. And that's just what this grad student did. And he did it well. One has to feel bad for the ex-Dartmouth students who troll around campus for innocent undergrads. Especially if they still go to school in Hanover. They're like those seniors who dump the girls they love to swipe the v-cards of unsuspecting and amused freshmen who will never understand the plight of their senior seminars. But they're like them forever.
Now for some real talk with the drunkest girls: if either of us are still trolling at a cappella shows and playing pong with the Bible well into our 30s, feel free to cap us. Don't ask, just POP. POP to the dome.
So, what have we learned today: 1.Graduate students creep mostly out of desperation. Murphy's and Club Electra get old after awhile.2.Graduate students want to play pong just as bad as those freshmen who will never actually get on table.3.Coming back to Dartmouth after you graduate makes you creepier than the biddy trolling at a cappella shows.
And on that note we would like to end by sending some love to Chile, since, yeah, they didn't really get a cool concert, auto-replies or benefits or anything like that. Stay strong Chile, the two of us care!
