We are deep inside the warm, tender belly of autumn, the season in which everything tastes like pumpkin. Likely noticing the success and marketability and of Starbuck’s Pumpkin Spice Lattes, every company seems to be jumping onto this food fad, spewing out mutant variation after variation. Let’s examine some of these questionable food relatives, none of which have any business being pumpkin flavored:
Pumpkin Pie Pringles — Offensive. Pringles cannot possibly believe anyone would actually like eating these.
Pumpkin pie vodka — #turnip
Your neighbors/suite mates/dungeon mates (how do I love thee, Grad Center? Let me count the ways) have a had a typical day. Classes were difficult, but now they’re relaxing a bit in the late afternoon. Suddenly, though, your clumsily strummed chords pollute the air with acoustic tomfoolery. Em7. G. Dsus4. A7sus4.The sequence chills their blood. “And maaaybeeeee, you’re gonna be the one that saaaves-”
You’re a monster.
College is a time for self-improvement. I get that. But there are better ways to improve yourself than playing Oasis on an acoustic guitar for the dubious benefit of your neighbors.
Everyone teaches themselves guitar. Why not teach yourself something else? Like the xylophone, or the bagpipes? Why not be a drummer? I hear they’re pretty cool, even given the risk of tinnitus. Brown is supposed to be a unique campus full of free spirits, so let’s not fall into acoustic serenade stereotypes.
I asked everyone to leave so we could have our privacy.
Dear Sayles Hall,
How are you? For 133 years old, you’re looking great. You’ve been a loving host to student group rehearsals, SPEC events, and The Housing Games (RIP). Heck, you have even been to SPG! Have I mentioned you have the largest remaining Hutchings-Votey pipe organ in the world?! Seriously, thnks4themmrs and way to be you.
Hey, there is something I’ve wanted to talk to you about. I’ve been on staff here at BlogDH for three years and have never written a Flog. I’ve never really wanted to because I hate complaining and I seek to see the glass half-full as frequently as possible. Until now.
I’m quite bad at confrontation and don’t want this to come as a shock to you. Please bear with me as I try to express my feelings. I will even try to speak from the “I” perspective. What I’ve been meaning to tell you is that your bathrooms are literally the worst thing about this entire institution for higher learning.
Was that too harsh?
Let me explain myself. We can start by talking about the location of your facilities. Your only bathrooms are located in the basement of the building, which is an absurd amount of steps away from your third floor
dungeon. I could also get into all of the sense that your stairs lack, but I digress.
Given my abnormally small bladder, I always face this dilemma as to whether I should commit myself to hiking the literal Oregon Trail to get to your facilities or if I should just suffer the bladder discomfort. Also, seriously my bad if I’m taking this the wrong way, but it seems that you are proud of this trek and wear it as a badge of honorable character. You really shouldn’t, Sayles. I dare you to have one more sign telling me that your only bathrooms are located in the basement. Also stop sugar-coating it by calling it “the lower level.” It is the basement.
To be clear, I am very appreciative of the 250th committee and everything they have sponsored and organized for us in the past few months. I think it’s amazing that by sheer luck we are students during this epic marker of Brown’s history, and that we get to benefit from all the festivities thrown in the university’s honor. I love fireworks and big building-shaped cakes. I’m a huge fan of cool-alum panels, I own a copy of The Brown Reader, and I thought bringing Binder to the Main Green on a Sunday for alumni and their frolicking children to enjoy was an especially nice touch. But it has to be said: “Imagine Brown 250+” is an incredibly dumb phrase.
I hate “Imagine Brown 250+” so, so much. It makes no sense. It is on a flag pole every thirty feet, plastered on giant signs on buildings, on sweatshirts in the bookstore, and thrown around like crazy in casual conversation and yet no one acknowledges that it makes no sense.
Years of college-level textual analysis have taught me well, so I’m capable of explaining why this phrase sucks on many levels. Firstly, there is the meaning of the phrase. Think for a second about what the phase “Imagine Brown 250+” is trying to communicate. It says, hey, let’s think about Brown in an unspecified time in the future. That’s actually not what the past few months of celebration have been about at all. Continue Reading
I am off meal plan, which means I go to grocery stores not for the novelty of avocados, but for the necessity of buying edible things to consume so I don’t disappear. There is only one grocery store that does not make this experience unbearable, and that is Trader Joe’s. But before I wax poetic on the glory that is Trader Joe’s, I have a few things to say to its walking distance competitors.
Really, Whole Foods? It’s gonna be like that? Whole Foods is the girl next door. In terms of proximity, it’s doing all the right things. I look at it and see things I know I want. Like chocolate covered espresso beans. I look over and see things I totally could see myself wanting. Like goji berries. I have never seen a goji berry in my daily life, which puts them on the same plain of existence as blue raspberries and unicorns.
My favorite totally real fruit
But damn. Goji. What a fun name for a berry I want inside of me. Unfortunately, I cannot spend $12 on a bag of magic berries which, all told, contains two hundred calories. In my fight to stay alive, I cannot spend $120 on two-thousand calories.
Nuts! Those can sustain me. Just kidding. Almonds are also $12. I recently saw a paper bag from Whole Foods that said ‘collards are the new kale’. What does that even mean, Whole Foods?! Collard greens have been around forever. The Ratty has them on soul food night. That’s how not-new they are. Guess what, Whole Foods. I’m going to do three laps around your free sample circuit and call it a meal.
If you’ve been anywhere near social media lately, you’ll know that fall is upon us. We are in the thick of (Instagrams of) changing leaves, colorful scarves, and autumnal pumpkin spice lattes. Fall comes with a practically mandatory checklist of activities that you must complete and record with photo documentation. Yet as I complete every item on my fall checklist, I can’t help but feel like a total try-hard. It seems to me that fall is just about the most basic and contrived season of all time.
1. Apple Picking
The first item on everyone’s fall checklist list is apple picking. For a few hours and a couple bucks, you can don a flannel and pretend you’re a Puritan who stumbled out of a J Crew. Apple picking is a great way to get fresh produce and reconnect with nature (?) but the fun is strained. It’s tiring and you have to take one million pictures until everyone has a new default photo of their liking.
2. Pumpkin Flavored Everything
Starting around September, every major food chain rolls out a new product flavored “pumpkin” as if said product isn’t just flavored “cinnamon.” I love a good Pumpkin Spice Latte as much as the next seventh-grade-girl-trapped-in-a-19-year-old’s body, but I resent the fact that Starbucks has built an empire on something that tastes like flavors they already had. To me, pumpkins (and gourds for that matter) are the decorative vegetables you keep around the house during Halloween – they’re certainly not sweet and delicious.