Word: summered
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This is problematic for me. Summer is coming: if I don’t get my brown going, then the clubs might as well be closed. And then my new tight white t-shirt and hair gel would go to waste. I won’t even start about the months and months of Muscle Milk virtually flushed down the toilet...
Parker, now 25, married Stephanie Brinton Parker ’10 this past summer, and the pair now lives in Peabody Terrace, a Harvard-affiliated building behind Mather House, due to prohibitions against married students living in upperclass Houses. Parker is grateful he deferred his admission for two years before starting freshman year—otherwise, he wouldn’t have been in the same class as Brinton, and they likely wouldn’t have married or even dated...
...within the Mormon Church, while “fellowshipping”—essentially serving a nurturing role to church members—is expected of females. But Muhlestein’s older sister, Whitney E. Muhlestein ’10, will also leave for her mission this summer. Girls are allowed to serve starting when they’re 21, which Muhlestein attributes to safety concerns, but also to the distinct appeals an older, more mature female might hold for potential believers. Muhlestein says her dad is very adamant about all his children serving on missions...
Bogotá, Colombia. 10 p.m. Having endured a three-hour Shabbat dinner during which my hosts repeatedly implied that my summer roommate was a bad Jew while pretending I didn’t exist, I left Chabad House thinking I had survived the most hostile encounter of my night. Ignoring the advice of our dinner companions and every other human we had met so far, we decided not to call a taxi and instead walked towards a nearby bar, hoping to unwind to the calming sounds of Daddy Yankee...
...meat counter next to me was only biding her time before jumping me. For several weeks, my irrational paranoia led me to believe that any stranger within two miles of me was almost certainly a sociopath waiting to pilfer my vintage Nokia. For the rest of the summer, I only visited the ATM wearing running shoes so that I could sprint the three blocks back to my apartment. Logically, I knew that the odds of getting mugged again were about the same as going to Friday morning lecture, but I couldn’t shake this feeling that everyone around...