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"Lauren's mood swings are like a box of chocolates—a gift that you didn’t ask for that will sometimes reward you sweetly but will mostly disappoint you and leave a bad taste in your mouth," most of my friends and close family members said, probably.
To Whom It May Concern:
It’s a Tuesday night and you’re strolling to Novack, thinking only about which flavor of Odwalla you should buy. As you descend the stairs from first floor Berry you see them: students standing next to tables, carrying clipboards and handing out bumper stickers. They ask you to sign their petition. Buy their bake-sale food. Join their club.The students pull you in with their aggressively cheerful smiles and pointed eye contact. Before you know it, you’ve signed up for three random listservs and bought a baker’s dozen of homemade cupcakes. You wake up the next morning feeling the Bern and wondering what happened to all of your DA$H.
I love conspiracy theories. Humans landing on the moon: fake. JFK might still be alive. Where’s Obama’s birth certificate? The Bermuda Triangle: very real. And of course the government is using vaccines to implant tiny tracking devices into our bodies so that they can keep tabs on us, take control of our brains and then orchestrate the revolution that will bring about the end of time.Obviously, I’m very well-informed about these matters, so it’s quite fortunate for me, Dartmouth’s resident nutter, that there’s no shortage of suspicious activity on this campus. As springconstruction season rolls around, The College remains suspiciously tight-lipped about what’s being built around campus. Grad student housing? The new Hood Museum? I’m not buying it.
Life at Dartmouth can be hard, what with the harsh winters, D-Plan and limited social scene working against you. “Dear Lone Pining,” Dartbeat’s premier student advice column, is here to help! Anonymously submit your questions here and our lifestyle expert, Lone Pining, will help tackle your problems. Here’s what Lone Pining had to say this week:
Snow:It’s basically May, yet we find ourselves digging our long-lost Bean Boots out of the closet.
Student on FFB: “Do they make Band-Aids for dogs?”
It was a long time coming, but spring has finally sprung. This past week, there was an exponential increase in the number of people hanging out on the Green. And that got me thinking: How can I capture spring term at Dartmouth in graphs? I may not have known how to graph Canada’s production possibility frontier on my last Econ midterm, but I think I figured out how to map these more relevant trends (sorry, Canada):
Dartmouth is a small school. Odds are, if you don’t know someone personally, you’ve at least seen them around campus. Maybe there’s a guy you’ve had two classes with but never talked to, or a girl who is always at KAF at the same time. If you ever finally met each other, what would you say? Here are some hypothetical messages, inspired by the Missed Connections forum on Craigslist, that you might write to one of those ever-present yet always elusive classmates:
[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I702O3nembk&feature=youtu.be[/embed]
It’s Week 4, you’re sitting in bed crying studying for your econ midterm tomorrow and all you want is something to mask the smell of your room, which hasn’t been cleaned in weeks. And what could be better than one of Dartbeat’s very own, totally not cultish, Dartmouth-inspired Yankee Candles? There’s nothing like the crackling of the wick and a strong whiff of Keystone to get you through all the problem sets you’ve put off until the last possible second!
Full disclosure, I have no idea what goes on at frat pre-rush events. They seem a lot different from sorority pre-rush events where there are cookies, lemonade and girls talking about rainbows and unicorns and butterflies (obviously). But you don’t actually have to be at a frat pre-rush event to know what goes on there: You can hear the internal monologues of freshmen boys from blocks away, as they whisper “Please like me, please like me, please like me” to themselves and bend over backwards to impress upperclassmen (who, by the way, would rather be doing homework than working a rush event).
You’re wearing your nametag, your springiest sundress and your most poised fake smile. You’re thinking to yourself, I’ve got this, I’m going to make my mark. But as you bounce from sister to sister, you are suddenly struck with the realization that you aren’t exactly distinguishing yourself as a particularly memorable Sperry-wearing, econ-major, cool potential new member. So before you converse with the sisters, take a look at our suggestions on how to ensure they actually remember your name.
I have a love/hate relationship with children. On one hand, my “Muppet”-y personality would make a lot more sense if I had a child. On the other hand, my first thought when I see a carefree, knee-high human is that they seem so puntable. Like many Dartmouth students, I am forced to confront this inner conflict daily as I hear the delighted screams ofthese cute, stupid baby people running amuck on the Green. So I've compiled some tips on how to avoid these stubby gremlins whomagnetically attract themselves to your knees:
Not all press is good press – and there’s no better time at Dartmouth to see and be seen than spring term. Bean boots go into hiding, I eventually muster the confidence to wear shorts (despite the inherent danger of exposing anyone to my fluorescent paleness) and the Green starts to feel a lot more crowded.
Life at Dartmouth can be hard, what with the harsh winters, D-Plan and limited social scene working against you. “Dear Lone Pining,” Dartbeat’s premier student advice column, is here to help! Anonymously submit your questions here and our lifestyle expert, Lone Pining, will help tackle your problems. Here’s what Lone Pining had to say this week:
Dartbeat asks a group of musically inclined students to recommend their favorite song picks of the week. We then share a few of those tracks. Enjoy!
Tax day is officially upon us! You were so relieved to hear that this year, taxes weren’t due on April 15. That’s right—in the adult world, if you beg hard enough, you can still get three-day extensions.
We’ve all had those days. You know, the Sunday afternoons when you are sitting in blobby and trying really hard to start finish a 20-page paper due for your 9L the next morning. Your productivity is obviously at an all-time high, but people keep stopping by your table and bothering you. I mean, were they raised in a barn??!?
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