Chatter

Someone set off the fire extinguishers in Eliot House Saturday night, but the real flames were outside; evacuated residents watched burning passion in action as two students hooked up in the courtyard for all to see. Hot.

Meanwhile, at the Center for High-Energy Metaphysics, some rocket scientist pulled the fire alarm, a few days after those crazy Co-op kids almost burned down their kitchen. The long-suffering Cambridge fire department responded, sirens blaring, and a furious resident screamed after fleeing revelers: “NO MORE PARTIES!!!” At least one person was scared—a girl fleeing the scene was apparently so disturbed, she ran right into a parked car. Karma: better than sex?

A tutor in Quincy House might disagree; students in his entryway were treated to a loud, “Oscar-worthy” performance from his lady friend during a late-night roll in the hay. We’re told there was lots of giggling involved, if you were wondering.

Any couples at the Seneca’s date event on Sunday night who ducked into the ladies’ room for a quick hookup were thwarted: every single stall was already occupied by a young lady committed to service, women’s issues...and drunken vomiting. 

Could Fox boys get any more marriage-worthy? The club is running a donation drive outside the Science Center to support homeless shelters around Boston. 501(c)(3) status is in the works. Other initiates give of themselves in a more organic sense—clubs left gifts of feces on the stoops of their rival clubs.

Speaking of shitting on long-established institutions, one multi-supersenior recently proposed to another: Their nuptials were to be a philosophical experiment. The wedding was to be held at the Co-Op, but it was called off on Sunday via text message. The convo went something like this:

“yo are we getting married today because if so i need to plan my day around it”

“i say... no”

“wuss”

Not a wuss: Prof. N. Gregory Mankiw, who has been spotted tooling around in a shiny BMW (presumably bought with profits from outsourcing American jobs overseas). The bad-ass plate on the back? EC 10, of course.