Word: musts
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Sounds a lot like the million of sites you already have, right? Well, the nifty thing about Buzz is its integration inside Gmail. Gone are the days where you must agonize about whether or not to create yet another profile on yet another social networking platform, choose a username, find friends, and log in daily (or for some of us, hourly). Buzz, conveniently located just under your inbox, is already there for you to use, love, and procrastinate with. So even though it allows you to do things you are already doing, Buzz, like all things Google, will make your...
...weekends like this one that head coach Tommy Amaker must have envisioned when he landed Casey, who many called Harvard’s biggest men’s basketball recruit in history. The forward reportedly had strong interest from major-conference schools such as Vanderbilt, Stanford, and Providence, but opted for Cambridge in the end. And Amaker couldn’t be happier about Casey’s decision to play...
...study in the immediate vicinity of the Yard each day, they should be able to eat where they choose. Restrictions pose a problem partly because they create a vicious cycle: As soon as one House restricts, others become overcrowded and begin to follow suit. Soon enough, a Cabot resident must wander through the frozen Cambridge streets facing rejection after rejection. To avoid this, no restrictions whatsoever should complicate where Upperclassmen take their meals, save that they continue to remain out of Annenberg...
...told me about the football, and that he played baseball too, that he’d actually even tried out for the Major League once in his playing days. He’s older now, but you can see in his thick back, his curved fingers, once he must have been able to take a tackle, to turn a double play. We marveled together about how different the school was. I pictured him walking through Winthrop. He made sure I sat next to him when we started eating, and he made sure to introduce me to everyone: politicians?...
...arboreal emblem of a unified land and people - has all flamed out. The ground is a pulp of mud and fallen leaves. But it's all good. Crunching through hoarfrost with the poem in my pocket, I'm sure that somewhere north of the DMZ somebody else must also be cursing the cold...