Whether you were kickin’ in the front seat or sittin’ in the backseat, I’m sure you remember exactly where you were when Rebecca Black’s “Friday” became the song of the decade week back in 2011. But in her iconic song, Rebecca leaves us with a cliffhanger: “Today i-is Friday… Tomorrow is Saturday.” If you’ve spent every day for the past two and a half years wondering what her Saturday was like, as I have, the suspense is finally over: Rebecca released her new music video, “Saturday,” on Saturday, December 7th. It has racked up 12 million views in three days, and it’s every bit as fun, fun, fun, fun as I could have imagined. Continue Reading
Earlier this week, Miley Cyrus released her new album Bangerz, likely filled with controversy and a million other “-isms” that frustrated students and middle-aged mothers alike were ready deconstruct. Although the lyrics of Miley’s recent hit “We Can’t Stop” seem to reflect emotions tied to “kiss[ing] who we want,” “shaking it like we at a strip club,” and “trying to get a line in the bathroom,” we all know what she’s really discussing: the temptation of playing another round of BlogDH’s favorite game, BergeMash. Sure, you probably thought this tradition was leaving with the beloved KBerge, but you thought wrong. Miley’s Bangerz is begging to be BergeMashed, and we simply couldn’t resist. Continue Reading
I love Avatar. No, not blue Dance with Wolves. I mean the one with the little bald kid and the magic martial arts and the all-around baddassery. Fine, yes, the kids show. But you know what? I’m okay with that. While my friends are discussing the finer points of Breaking Bad or Game of Thrones, I will unabashedly fanboy all over the finer points of Zuko’s story line and debate you about the superior bending forms.
But I’m not alone. Nostalgia is the Millenial battle-cry. Comic books are made cool by the big screen, I have literally spent nights playing Pokemon with my suitmates, and I can walk into any frat and throwdown for Super Smash Brothers (Zero-Suit Samus, whaddup?).
So to help you navigate the various ways to release your inner child, we at BlogDH have scientifically measured and analyzed the various forms of nostalgia.
Ah, senior year. We’re nearing adulthood now. The fresh promise of the GCB awaits us, rendering the years of sweating it out at an AEPi frat party almost obsolete. It’s a new era of sophistication, responsibility, monogamous hookups, and wine and cheese dinner parties!
And we get to do it all off-campus. Right next to the favorite haunts of the John St. masturbator.
Underclassmen, take note: living off-campus is not all that it seems. Sure, we get living rooms–full of shitty furniture that we found off of Craigslist. Seriously, those bastards in Keeney have nicer lounges than we do. Wine and cheese dinner parties aren’t as fun when you’ve spent your entire month’s allowance on manchego cheese.
Actually, that was entirely worth it. If I could spend all my money on the hard cheeses, I totally would.
And monogamous hookups? A recipe for declining libido.
Also, I thought having a masturbator roaming your block would be entertaining. Like free pay-per-view porn. But once he started wanking outside my neighbor’s homes, I got… well, sort of sad. He seems so pathetic, with his long black hair and questionable dress choices. A hoodie and no pants? In September? Who are you, Miley Cyrus?!
I went through an off-campus crisis. It went something like this:
I can almost see it
The dream I am dreaming
But there’s a voice inside my head saying
“You’ll never reach it.”
Each step takes one on an ascent toward the pinnacle of Brunonian civilization. One that houses the strength and determination of each and every student on this campus. The experience is daunting. Anticipation and fear abound. We await arriving at the structure in which we find countless visions of the Brown experience: the muffins, the hydration stations, and the perfectly labeled receptacles for rubbish. The study groups and the student groups. UCS. Even the cathedral ceilings in the noiseless Leung Family Gallery cannot contain the work ethic, the unconditional love, and undying passion of each and every student.
Indeed, Faunce House, yes, houses several aspects of greatness of our fine university that take human form in our students. But this is not complete oneness. Indeed, we are not whole. Indeed, we are scattered between three disparate levels. Some here, some there, like a bag of strewn M&Ms all over the living room floor after at 10 p.m. on Super Bowl Sunday. Bold in color. Stale in flavor. Handfuls are grabbed from a large bowl, yet some inevitably fall through the cracks of the greedy fat man’s hand.
The irony is that the truest manifestation of human greatness is not what everyone hopes to reach, but what transports them there. The ultimate utopia, however, is the Faunce Steps. Continue Reading