Readers, hi. You need to know that I cannot coddle you this term. The "OMG HAY!" of yesteryear was from a different me, a warmer me, a me that proclaimed "Dartmouth's my favorite!" with sickening sincerity. Well, that smile on the clock tower is taking an off-term in Hawaii with Malia and Sasha and is hereby replaced with sarcasm and disdain. You see, the winter brings out the Grinch in me. (While I'm specifically referring to his "mean, mean" ways, know that, as a Jew, if I could steal Christmas for myself, I would.) I thought I could fight winter's overwhelming powers of soul-destruction (see last week's column), but it took about three days for my cold heart to turn to black and my cold/flu to turn me into the Puffs mascot. And while "a nose in need deserves Puffs indeed," this demonic weather deserves bitchery and harsh judgment.
The obligation to kvetch goes double for "making-the-most-out-of-winter" events, placed on my bucket list in a happier time, back when Hanover was my Neverland and Bieber hadn't unleashed a line of nail polishes. (Real talk. Look it up.) So, on the day I wrote "Go to more sporting events," I never anticipated that my enjoyment of said events would rest predominately on the discovery that there is a PLETHORA of awful people scattered amongst the student section. It was my very own winter wonderland of THE WORST. Mocking phase initiated, commencing unfair typecasting in 3, 2, 1
The I-Sincerely-Hope-You're-Drunk Girl
The ISHYDG can be found saving at least five seats for half the game, one of which is clearly for the boyfriend whose forty is dutifully tucked in her purse. She will cheer with undeserved enthusiasm at a penalty call, express so much optimism that she will TOTALLY get tossed a shirt by the Zamboni guy and toss her hair into the faces of unsuspecting bystanders at will. Her display of near-mythological levels of atrocious behavior will make you pray for her parents' sake that she is completely blacked out. She's probably not.
Fratastrophe Frank
The boyfriend of the ISHYDG, he's front and center with the brotation, only remembering to visit his all-too-sober gf when he needs to wash down his third corn dog with an unidentified beverage so cleverly disguised in a paper bag. (What could be in there?! Is it Muscle Milk?!) When discernible amidst the slurs, his heckles make you want to cheer for the opposing team just to keep them from crying. Mad(Dog) school spirit, that's all it is, yo.
The Wannabe Fratastrophe
Probably the most entertaining of the spectating species, this doe-eyed hopeful sees the sidelines as his main stage to impress his fellow bros. Delivering a delightful array of awkwardly wordy heckles and misused lingo, he inspires plenty of chuckles, misinterpreting the laughter as with him. Tragically (but magically for me), no uncomfortable silence will stop him from soldiering on. Do less, dear boy. Do less.
Freshman-and-Fam
For the love of Jim Yong Kim, get your parents away from the student section.
Just-Here-for-the-Experience Justine
"Oh my God, look how many people there are here! And everyone's wearing Green! This is so much fun. What do they do during half time? Is there a performance?! Ah! The marching band is playing Build Me Up Buttercup!' That's ADORABLE. Let's go get a churro! Woooooooo! A goal! Wait, that was the wrong team?! Well they did a really good job with the puck and stuff Ok, Justin, pose so I can take a mobile upload! This is so Dartmouth-y!"
Just-Here-for-the-Game Justin
Not. Amused.
The Artist
He knows the sport, he's followed the team and he's got stats on lock. His heckles are biting, his commentary is witty and enlightening, and he never accidentally looks away just at the moment someone scores (it's a known condition). In short: I will spill something on him at some point. He is RUINING my fun.
The Yellow Coat Bitch
Dear Yellow Coat Bitch,
You think you're so special in your yellow coat. Well, let me tell you something. I, too, can wear a brightly colored outer shell to mask my deep-seated insecurities. But I take the high road; I deride.
Thesis: THERE ARE NO SEATS AVAILABLE. LET ME STAND IN THE AISLES OR I WILL STAND ON YOU.Zing.
Ok, maybe I'm a little harsh, but that's just how I cope with this below-freezing nonsense. Consider this a warning say the phrase, "The Great Outdoors" to me (Mirror theme incorporated!), and I promise to passive-aggressively trash talk you later in a private setting. For real, snowball fights sound cold, skiing sounds awful and sledding sounds great but no one will invite me. (Apparently I whine a lot ?) Whatever, friendship, I don't need you. I have an adjustable thermostat.
