Word: lamb
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...dining services to operate within budget while satisfying our nutritional needs and desires.Unfortunately, the strain of rising food costs is the cause of a growing divide between the student body and the dining services. But just as HUDS realizes we aren’t asking for racks of lamb, we need to realize HUDS isn’t trying to shortchange us. We need to deal with this global—and lasting—issue as a community. Surveys and comment cards are not enough to improve students’ relatoinship with HUDS, and the HUDS Student Advisory Committee...
...fall and a massage session during reading period. Johnston is not alone in his efforts to unite house communities with unique events. Toby C. Berkman ’02, a tutor in Eliot, holds a weekly yoga class in the house dance studio, and Tom J. Barnett-Lamb, a Cabot tutor, leads a craft circle every week. But it doesn’t take a weekly class to gain celebrity status as a tutor. Anthony Niblett is known in Winthrop for being an avid IM fan, and Matthew J. Corriel ’05 brings his love for music...
...unknowns-you're stuck alone chatting up the family while the reporter cooks, you accidentally let slip a cruel joke about a wedding photo, you somehow use the bathroom wrong-and partly because who the hell wants to spend Saturday night stuck at some dork's house eating undercooked lamb? Would Gwyneth Paltrow come over? Johnny Depp? But George Clooney said yes, of course, why not, sounds...
...from the pot and eats it. He is mad guesting, Olympic-level guesting. He's been over for two hours, and it occurs to me that the smooth bastard must have turned off his cell phone before he got here. When I leave the table to check on the lamb, he puts extra bacon on my pasta. He's doing impressions-Pat O'Brien confusedly reporting outside Clooney's Como villa, expecting Pitt and Jolie's wedding (Clooney had bought $1,500 worth of flowers and 15 tabletops as a prank on gossip reporters); James Carville denigrating John Kerry...
...deep into a second bottle of Barolo when Clooney cuts into his rack of lamb, and, oh, there would be blood. This is why a star wouldn't take this invite, wouldn't be here, staring at a red-raw-inedible piece of meat. He says it's fine. I grab it, put it in the oven but forget to turn on the heat, so when I take it back out, it's just as raw. Fine again, he says. I put it back one more time. He takes more pasta and salad. Rattled, I drop the salt. "Throw...