Dear Gardner,
I'm running low on cash. Can I borrow 20 dollars?
Needy Ned '13
Gardner: I'm simply going to tell you what Pitbull told me while I was driving in my car over break. It may be the most insightful and relevant piece of advice I've received thus far: "Ask for money, get advice. Ask for advice, get money twice." Your advice will be forthcoming.
Dear Gardner and Kate,
The girl I've had a crush on for the past two years came up to me and said "Ha, I just took this quiz in the Mirror and it looks like we're dating?" I hate both of you so much.
Friend-zoned Frank '13
Gardner: This is a tough friend-zone moment. However, I'm sure it pales in comparison to the two years leading up to it, especially sitting behind her as she made out with someone else on the bus ride back from the formal she attended as your "platonic" date and any time you spooned. There's no easy way out of the friend zone, but I'll share what is by far the strongest transition to dating that I've heard of, courtesy of Unnamed '13. Next time she mentions the fact that you're "dating," say something like, "I'm so glad we're not." It will force her to think about why you shouldn't be dating and, in Unnamed '13's case, can lead to a transition out of the friend zone. In fact, she'll probably be so offended you won't be friends at all. Ten percent odds aren't any worse than what you just described.
Kate: Frank, you need to get it together. Your first error is complaining to Gardner and I about your problems. You've liked this girl for two years and spend enough time with her to be her boyfriend. Why isn't this "question" in her inbox on Friday afternoon? This is why you're single and pining over someone you now see as significantly more perfect than she actually is. The fact that she felt comfortable telling you that you two were "dating" can mean two things. Either you've hidden your feelings all too well and she tells everyone that you're her "straight gay best friend" or she's been hinting she's interested for months and you've been too mopey to notice.
Dear Kate,
I'm interested in this guy who's really fun, good-looking, a "sweet bro," etc. The problem is, he realizes this and, ergo, thinks the world revolves around him. How do I hook up without making him more cocky than he already is?
Anti-X Annie '13
Kate: Confidence is attractive. Too much, however, turns a fine young fellow into an egomaniac convinced that all of campus wants him. Option one is to stop hooking up with someone who sucks. Let's be real though, that's just not going to happen! You have your needs, and I respect that. Option two is to subtly knock him down a few pegs. Some good lines include: "Sex is so much more fun with you. It' has just been too big for comfort with other guys, you know?" Or, while glancing at his Dartmouth ID, "You had so much more hair freshman year!" or "I just don't understand why girls are so into muscular guys. You're so much more cuddly." Note: if you execute option two successfully, you are probably a sociopath. Look at your life, look at your choices and take some time to be single. A long time.
Dear Gardner and Kate,
How many churros do I need to eat to justify a meal swipe?
Hungry Howie '13
Gardner: I'll be honest, Howie. We don't like to compare the readers who ask us questions, but this is the best DDS related question we've answered all year. Churros are mainly offered at dinner so I'll work under the assumption that a meal swipe is worth $14. A churro probably costs 25 cents to make and is worth $3 as determined by the Major League Baseball Stadium Churro Price Index. Therefore you'll get your money's worth by eating from four and two-thirds to 56 churros, or anything over four feet of churros. The strongest play is obviously a to-go container filled entirely with churros. You may get weird looks from everyone that sees you, but it should justify a meal swipe more than Chicken Monday ever could.
Kate: One. Also, the fact that churros are not offered at breakfast is an outrage. I'm disgusted The Dartmouth has thus far shirked its duties in reporting this hot button issue.
Dear Gardner and Kate,
I thought I was coming back for spring term. What is this high of 42 and snowy thing? Perplexed Peter '16
Gardner: Even after three years, I thought that spring break was a good time to switch out all of my sweaters for shorts and sleeveless shirts only to remember that we go to school in New Hampshire. I often wonder what Eleazar Wheelock was thinking. There were Native Americans all over North America in 1769, so why did he pick the coldest imaginable place to found a school? Why not Florida or at least Virginia? I suggest you use the next few cold and muddy weeks of "high of 42 and snowy thing" to work diligently, participate in class and build up good karma with your professors. Then you can blow off all work when it's 75 and sunny later in the term.
Kate: I've been living in a state of denial for the last few weeks, to the point I almost refused to answer this question. Every morning I wake up with an overactive heater, look out the window and see rays of sunshine. I then convince myself that "high of 42 degrees" is sundress weather. A more sensible woman would come to grips with the harsh realities of April in Hanover upon leaving the dorm. Instead, I stubbornly suffer through endless questions of "Where are your tights?" and "Aren't you cold, Kate?" Let's think about that. It's snowing and I have to eat on Collis porch because there's still not enough seating. Obviously, I'm freezing. On the plus side, I'm building up my tolerance to "spring" weather and ideally will be performing the Ledyard challenge before the last few sheets of ice melt.