Word: prefroshes
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...high schoolers, sporting sweatshirts and toting Rubinoff-filled gatorate bottles. “Yo, man,” says the self-delcared leader, “know of any parties going on tonight?” You run off before you’re forced to respond. Welcome to prefrosh weekend. Sure, many of us dread prefrosh weekend; there’s nothing more annoying than a crowd of overeager teenage nerds desperately praying that they can pass for an undergrad as they nervously make their way through the square. But I consider the weekend a time for us college...
...only for heteronormative [1] undertones, has seen tremendous ad revenue growth. [2] In thanks, they have given us a genius grant to test our new mind reading device. We have published our initial results in the tradition of great UC meeting live blogs. Our research, which was conducted during prefrosh weekend, is presented below...
...glad I left early for this THURJ info session. [3] I have time to think of compliments for the members, and I can establish some social capital with these mostly symmetrical prefrosh while we walk. Don’t blow it this time. Remember freshman year of high school: a signature fedora? Every day? What was I thinking? Not now. I just need a cool topic. Sports. I’ll talk about soccer. No, soccer’s too gay. What about basketball? No, not classy enough. “Hey, who here plays motorcycle polo...
...just make fun of someone else to assert my dominance...that prefrosh doesn’t even have a folder! He’s selling newspapers? Is he already comping The Crimson? Everyone knows that Comping “Current”=Being a Baller. My new friends are walking faster. “Hey, nice shirt! Hey, the paper’s called ‘The Crimson,’ not ‘Spare Change.’” Maybe they’re just fast walkers...
...Looking for a party. Found a place that looked like it would be bumping (and grinding?!) all night: Lamont Café. I was pretty sure prefrosh didn’t usually get into final clubs, so I played it cool and only talked about my SAT I and never my SAT IIs. I ate a stale raspberry Danish and chilled in the VIP section, by the newspapers. Show them bitches no love...