For those of you who don’t know, there is a major controversy right now among the coffee-drinking community over Starbucks’ iconic red holiday cups, which, for those of you following along at home, are the objects which contain the coffee. Cups. Nothing could matter less. And yet Starbucks is in the midst of a publicity shit-show because some of the more hyper-religious of its customers are disappointed by the lack of religious iconography on its holiday cups. Unfortunately, parties on all sides are missing the point.
The point is that the holidays are a month and a half away. It’s not even December. We can’t jump on the Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanza/New Years/Winter Solstice bandwagon until we celebrate Thanksgiving. Why is Christmas music playing in the mall at all? Why have we had like a gazillion presidential debates for an election that’s a year away? What the fuck is going on?
Au Bon Pain is doing it right. Their “holiday” cups are gray and have little stars on them. Look outside. That’s the spirit of the present moment. The weather sucks and is only going to get worse. Ho, ho, ho. Halloween just ended.
Recently trending on Facebook was the release of Dunkin’ Donuts new holiday cups, “amid the cup controversy.” Truly, no dumber words have ever been typed in the history of seasonal accouterments. And it’s not as if things are just slow for news outlets. In fact, the amount of vital stories happening right now — with extremely important AND tangible implications across the nation — is almost impossible to digest. News is what should be happening right now. Not people’s response to cups which fail to recognize events almost two months away.
I honestly don’t know what the fuck is going on anymore. I need a coffee. I guess I’ll just make it myself and put it in a bowl. Not trying to throw my hat in the ring like this guy.
Happy fall, everyone. Enjoy it while it lasts.
I do not consider myself a particularly aggressive person. I mean, I’m able to peacefully accept that there aren’t any more ciabatta rolls left at the Blue Room without squirting Sriracha in someone’s eye, most of the time. I’m also fairly good at not tackling anyone as I make my way out of those pesky Wilson doors and go sprint to my next class. If there is one thing that royally pisses me off, though, it’s the lot of cheeky students who pack up 5-10 minutes before class ends, just to make sure everyone hears and sees them. Here’s the deal:
A) the professor is still talking,
B) you are distracting me, and many other students who are trying to understand the material and,
C) your actions will now trigger a domino effect of rustling papers, scooting chairs, and zipping backpacks, a.k.a. the most scathing sounds in human history.
In short, you are telling the professor, and everyone else in class, that they are operating on your schedule. In short short, you are making me have a nervous breakdown, and I’d love to keep my sanity for at least two more months, thank you very much.
It’s too hot. Now it’s too humid. Uh-oh, now it’s raining. During the first few days back on College Hill, students have aired a laundry list of complaints about a whole range of meteorological conditions.
And I get it. Providence weather is fickle, and some people find that frustrating. Humidity that causes you to break a sweat just by thinking too hard isn’t fun. Neither is a surprise rainstorm that pounces on you as you leave class.
But it’s worth looking on the bright side of things. The days are warm, and even at night temperatures are barely dipping below sixty degrees. On top of that, until today we’ve had plenty of sun. Things certainly could be worse. In fact, they often have been worse.
- For those who are wont to complain about a brief afternoon shower, it’s worth remembering Superstorm Sandy, which turned Providence, and most of the Northeast, into a lake. And not a fun lake that you could waterski on or swim in, but an angry lake that flooded streets and would have happily ripped you out to sea.
- In 2013, Nor’easter Nemo pounded across New England, dumping enough snow to break the spirits of even the most optimistic Dory-like students on campus.
- And, of course, there’s the series of snowstorms that all but obliterated Providence last winter. We got so much snow that even Executive Vice President, Planning and Policy Russell Carey couldn’t save us. But he did grant us two snow days. To show our gratitude, we nominated him for President of the United States of America.
Carey is drawing low numbers in recent polls, but his favorability is expected to skyrocket if he gives us another snow day.
Ah, chicken finger Friday: the long lines, the weekly arrival of honey mustard at the VDub, and, much to my chagrin, the consistent absence of fries. Why does the VDub, which seems to serve fries every other day and meal of the week, decide to forgo the crispy potatoes on chicken finger Friday, when it would be most obvious to include the oily side dish?
Chicken finger Friday is a staple of Brown dining, so much so that it caused a slight panic when cancelled, and uproar when moved, unannounced, to a different weekday. It’s marked by the noon and 1 p.m. rushes, the long line on the “ice cream machine” side of the VDub, and the forgotten, near-barren line on the “waffle maker” side.
Where are the fries??
On the list of things that just don’t go together—which includes such atrocities as mustard and yogurt, jeans and rain, and curry and tequila (trust me)—Saturdays and finals rank number one.
This semester, two of my finals are on Saturdays. That’s right, both of the times in which I have to sit down for three hours, write down every bit of information that might possibly be relevant, and try to squeeze by on the curve, I have to do so under the heavy weight of knowledge that I’m taking a final ON A WEEKEND.
These aren’t my only final assignments, by the way. I also have two final papers, a final presentation, and a final exam masquerading as a midterm, but I can deal, because they are not ON A SATURDAY.
Saturdays are sacred. Saturday is the day to lie in bed until 1p.m., the day to get over your hangover by consuming solely bagels and yellow Gatorade (before consuming more hangover-inducing substances), the day to pretend you got a little work done, and the day that allows you to keep your sanity throughout the rest of the week. Continue Reading
My mother always told me if you’re going to insult someone, you have to begin and finish with a compliment. With that in mind: Jeans, thank you for being one of the most dependable articles of clothing in my closet and in my heart. Except for that one time you were bedazzled and that extended period of time you were “flared cut,” you’ve always had my best interest in mind… But it’s time we talked about the soggy elephant in the room. It’s no secret that sandals in the snow earns #1 worst clothing/weather combo, but when it comes to rain, Jeans, it’s time for you to get it together.
holy wet denim
I’m from New England; we’ve been through this before, but it’s different now that I have to walk across campus. Don’t tell me it’s my fault for not wearing rain pants, this isn’t BOLT and you know that. If you’re going to be the least water-resistant fabric known to mankind, at least learn to expedite the drying process. Sitting through a two and a half hour seminar is trying enough, but compounded with wet denim? Cruel. And while we’re talking about drying, maybe you could refrain from feeling the need to shrink yourself two sizes while I’m wearing you. I can’t keep squirming around in class as you form the world’s most uncomfortable second skin.