Word: beds
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...Twitter started slowly. It was February, and I was in the throes of thesis-writing. While many of my friends were taking full advantage of senior spring, I would go to Lamont every day after class and stay until I got a few hours’ respite in bed. One day I got an e-mail containing a link to Shaq’s Twitter. I deleted it. Much as I detest Twitter, I have almost as little interest in basketball. But when I received the link again, I reluctantly clicked on it. The description in his bio said...
...Everyone came running. A group of five women - our saviors - pulled their truck over just past our crash. A few of them hoisted our bike into the truck bed, tied it down and piled in after it. Keirn and I climbed into the cab with the driver, who turned out to be the proprietress of one of the nicer guesthouses in town, Koh Kong Guest House (Street 1, Koh Kong; +855-16-654-171); she took us to a pharmacy before dropping us off at our hotel...
...holes in my hand in the accident, and Keirn had a deep gash on his elbow that probably should have gotten stitched. But we felt wary of our chances at a neighborhood clinic, so the Wanderer cleaned our wounds, patched us up and sent us back to our comfy bed to relax...
...wait. You didn’t realize your other suitemates also signed up for their own prefrosh, too? And your futon’s only got room for one? Hope you don’t mind sharing your bed with a complete stranger. (More potential prefrosh woes after the jump...
...lacking in the rest of his life.As “Angels in America” departs more and more from reality, the logic of insanity becomes increasingly attractive to the characters. As he slowly dies of AIDS, Roy Cohn, the villain of the play, is consigned to a hospital bed and, horror of horrors, the use of a phone with no hold button. “How am I supposed to perform basic bodily functions?” he howls.Benjamin K. Glaser ’09 manages to make Cohn’s vitriolic hate charismatic; he may be entirely...