After a flurry of pointing fingers, entitled cries, and insults too obscene for young ears or Flipside reader eyes, the parents who organized each party settled on the inevitable truth: their children had the audacity to be born on the same day.
I should have known something was wrong when the premiere wasn’t even in the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour — our tickets lied to us. I mean — come on — how long does it take to set up a venue?! They’ve been building the thing since 1812, for Christ’s sake!
Use old, ancient wisdum [sic] of 20 suncycle [sic] on mothr [sic] Urth [sic] and smarts for smart thing, ask queschun [sic]: “can i (Borbra Smartbrain Elder Sciencer) eat tihs cactis?” [sic]
“You are what you eat, you know?” says Beremy Injoux.
Words cannot describe what I saw or felt in that moment. It was like someone had stabbed Hot Cheetos directly into my eyes—my brain—my soul.
This is Hubert Parsley (class of ’20), speaking to you live on-air from the newly-repurposed Telegraph Room in Deering, Northwestern’s only library.
Spam Risk sounds kind of rugged. Smells like pine. Those two-syllable names really get me. Like… James Bond. Or Hugh Grant.
Rather than constructing a long hallway filled with laser tripwires pointed every which way, such that only the most skilled gymnasts can somersault their way through, Dr. Moodering has put all the lasers in one column, all pointing in a single direction. This makes it impossible for even the most limber of heroes to circumvent the lasers and is an offensive jab at the gymnastics community.
“It’s the art of movement, really,” said Professor Nana Splitt of the dance department, who will be co-teaching Interactive Epidemiology 101 with the biology department. “The dance of the virus from one to another. By mirroring the dance of the virus, our students will make peace with their own idiocy.”