You Ponder This Dartmouth
Dear Hannah and Anna, As part of the seduction process, I lent my art history notes to a girl in my class that I wanted to "get to know better." Let's just say, mission accomplished.
Dear Hannah and Anna, As part of the seduction process, I lent my art history notes to a girl in my class that I wanted to "get to know better." Let's just say, mission accomplished.
Ladies, gentlemen, freshmen, etc.: Welcome back to Dartmouth. Spring is in the air, Main Street's Goth Bench is blooming, the Froyo Machine is chirping, and I'm happy to report that the Green is, well, on its way to being greenish.
Seven months ago following an intense sophomore summer, I sat down to write a paper for my Spanish class.
I have a challenge for you: find the changes in the Mirror. (Hint there is more than one and probably less than ten.) It is kind of like an early Easter egg hunt, but not really.
Dear Hannah and Anna, There's this guy who keeps asking me to play pong at his frat but I suck -- I really struggle keeping the ball on the table, let alone hitting or sinking a cup.
The Mirror takes a closer look at Dartmouth's most environment-friendly large passenger vehicle
Well, spring is in the air, and as the flowers blossom and hemlines rise, it seems from this week's quotes that the birds and the bees are also back to their old tricks.
With the exception of such classic maneuvers as challenging one's nemesis to a duel, perhaps no social weapon has gained quite as much currency on campus as accusing someone of having just performed a "self-call." Though it is perhaps now past its prime -- like the Eminem of pejorative exclamations -- I think that the phenomenon of self-calling, and more importantly the phenomenon of calling out self-calls, nonetheless deserves a turn under the dissection glass. Naturally, defining the self-call gets priority. Self-call (n.) -- 1.
In high school, many of us were constantly preoccupied with SATs, ACTs, GPAs, WNBAs, N*SYNCs, etc.
By Michael Xiao Before you take anything I write seriously in this article, let me tell you a story about myself.
Its hard to avoid making self-calls at a place like Dartmouth. For one, we all turned down Harvard to come here.
We are an intelligent bunch, or so they lead us to believe, and we all have passions, talents and awesome stories to share -- so I don't get this recent trend of censoring our discourse by uttering, or at times, shouting, "self callll." I am afraid we limit our ability to express our true selves by confining conversation topics to anything but ourselves.
Boy, is my face red. I've been eating my words ever since I printed a column last week about this year's lack of a true Dartmouth winter.
"Do you think that the male equivalent of the vajayjay is the panini?" '06 girl, post-"Grey's Anatomy." "So, she's on my shit list.