Word: shitting
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...will never remember you, what you major in or that you don’t have any “freshman hottalicious friends.” The Drunken Host will also tell you that relaxing and partying are what life is really all about. The Drunken Host knows his shit. He knows what college life should be. He is woefully out of place at Harvard...
...loves her booty and wants you to love it too. The Badunk is the girl who has just taken some dude and grizzly-bear-tossed his ass against the wall. The Badunkee is in a daze for a few seconds as The Badunk proceeds to grind the shit out of him. And, by the second verse of “Gansta’s Paradise,” he is just loving the ride. She moves back and forth, up and down, like a lust-charged roller coaster. I’m mesmerized by her ass-shacking fury...
...been dancing to Busta Rhymes and Nelly for a few hours, working myself into a drunken groove that feels fresh and fluid. Then the Hip-Hopper struts his shit up in here. All of the sudden my dance moves are feeling inadequate and meager. Unlike most, the Hip-Hopper hasn’t gone directly from the entrance to the keg. He needs no alcoholic transition from door to dance, it’s on from the start...
Scoring free shit at the regatta was as easy as Anne Radcliffe. (Historical note: Anne Radcliffe was a notorious whore.) Spectators gorged on complimentary Turkey Hill ice cream and Cape Cod potato chips—snack items perhaps not-so-coincidentally named after the favorite summer spots of most crew fans...
...started selling homophobic T-shirts. Hardcore Sox fans born and bred in places like Alabama, Seattle and Aix-en-Provence (aren’t they supposed to play soccer?) donned their newly-purchased Sox Gear and pretended to cause a fuss—Harvard style. That included crazy shit like running down the street in large groups (we’re talking five and six here), shouting stuff really loud on a school night, and that sin of sins, blocking traffic—even though the cops were actually the ones doing that. Yeah, we sure know...