Word: guested
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...month, three entrepreneurial Harvard students launched HarvardParties.com—a website created “to serve and protect Harvard students’ right to party,” according to their mission statement. The site includes information about upcoming parties—generally large events with no guest lists, both on and off campus—offering Wellesley girls and Harvard Universtiy Police Department officers a quality checklist...
...offer social opportunities to female students are certainly a start, unless the existing clubs change their “no girls allowed” policy, Harvard will forever maintain its perverted social structure in which female students who choose to socialize in final clubs are restricted to a perpetual guest status. They are dependent upon the male members for admittance to the clubs, and once inside, the social dynamic is utterly insulting. The female guests are there at the behest of their male classmates, and they are strictly confined to the rooms that members deem them fit to enter...
Sixth-year second semester freshman, Eva N. Woods ‘98-’07 made a surprise guest appearance at breakfast in Quincy last week. Woods has spent her nine consecutive semesters off “finding herself” in various ways, including suckling orphaned Orangutan babes in Indonesia, working the concession stand at a sex show in Amsterdam and undertaking an 87-day “vision quest” in the Mojave Desert. When asked if she would finally be making her return to the list of enrolled students, Woods replied...
...Forget the movie stars. The Emmys for guest-star roles and for supporting roles in movies and miniseries are an annual joke: they're simply about seeing what movie actors happened to be on TV last year and thanking them for lowering themselves. (Attention Emmy voters: Juliette Lewis has not been a movie star since 1994.) The same went for this year's best miniseries award, which went to the mediocre Steven Spielberg Presents: Taken. Emmy voters, you can bet, got as far as reading "Steven Spielberg Pre--" before deciding that...
...walked above the assembly line, Zhang reeled off stats as quickly as the robots were fastening caps on newborn beers. But after an hour of admiring shiny tanks and blinking switchboards, we made for the Yanjing Bar. EACH GUEST IS ENTITLED TO ONE GLASS, warned a sign. Zhang signaled for a pitcher and recounted the day he drank here with boxing promoter Don King. "Big hair," he remembered. We tapped our steins and savored a malty freshness that forever spoiled my appreciation of the bike-transported local stuff. Zhang lit a Hongtashan Gold and wanted to talk about Yanjing...