Blog’s Declassified Frosh Survival Guide: The Rule of Three

We at BlogDailyHerald would like to once again extend our heartiest welcome to you, lovely freshman—our adorable wide-eyed throngs of keen youths.  We trust you’re settling in nicely. It’s true (only as we were once you) that it’s tempting for us to rib the hallmarks of your kind; you travel in groups no less than three hundred; you speak louder than is sensible.

But rest easy, dearest freshly scrubbed masses—BlogDH has no intention to tease or paddle you (unless you’re into it) here. Allow us, if you could, to be your Wonka-esque guide to the savory realm of Brunonia. So shush, hold our hand tightly, and we’ll eccentrically give you the skinny on this schoolin’. Don’t be alarmed by our foppish purplish digs: we’re here to help.

Provided here is a modest assemblage of some au courant key campus items that you may have missed but must know. Three people, places, and things. Come with me and you’ll be in a world of pure imagination.


If you’ve not heard—or seen her face plastered on a Che Guevera style t-shirt—president Ruth Simmons enjoys wide approval. More than 80% according to a 2009 Herald poll. Brown students, who are distinguished by their rough-riding, self-reliant spirit, have long embraced her laissez-faire attitude. And so as the Babe gets ready to buck in the spring, relish the cool Mom of your new alma mater while she still reigns supreme. Even though your chances of running into her on campus are as scant as the Brown Republicans’ table at the Activities Fair.

Providence can prove gloomy as gray, water-bearing clouds roll in. But even when you’ve isolated your roommate by sexiling him or her one too many times, the ever-cherubic crooning of Gail—the angelic, drawn-out, hiii—will greet you with cloud-like softness.

When all’s dreary here we suggest you let her sweet falsetto wash over you. But you should know that it won’t make the food heavenly.

Recognized by her gallant strides and velour frocks, the Berge is a knotty myth, cryptic Bruno-lore. Seeped in mystery, she is a bizarrely intoxicating brew that even Alice (of Wonderland) would have trepidation about sipping. The Dean of the College’s orchestral intonation has riled armies and wooed beasts. Her persona has inspired a cultish, devoted following. And her haircut has inspired dozens of synth-pop songs.



No guide to Brown could be complete without at least a nod to this fabled hook-up space. Ditch the books and make the ol’ beast with two backs. What could be more erotic than disastrously phallic Modernist architecture?

Called “WhishCo” by those who longingly flirt with the memory of FishCo (the Fish Company, may she rest in peace), this venue proves disappointing to those who remember who she used to be: dank, carnal, and cheap. But you, the raw jejune masses, will only feel the Fish as a ghostly memory, a glint in the eye of upperclassmen. Still, Whiskey Republic proves a regulation dive bar with an aesthetic outdoor patio—to be enjoyed 1/8th of the year, before your vodka-Red Bull freezes over.

Oh, when the moon hits your veins with cavorting lunacy, it’s time for pie. Pizza from the Slice is inspired, each confection a well-manicured selection of ambrosial fare. These victuals include a particularly notable brand: the BarBQ Chicken pizza. Rich cheddar cheese on a whole-wheat crust with tender chicken marinated in a tangy sauce. Nom.


We’ve determined that the Brown Concert Agency, like many bureaucratic entities, is drunk with power. Responsible for which musical ensembles play Spring Weekend, this shadowy student group determines the tone for Brown’s most lavish and iconic cultural gathering. Invariably though, tickets will be in too-short supply and they will book a band as annoying as Of Montreal. If you find yourself to be one of the distraught underclass unable to get a ticket, we suggest you drink beer out of a funnel—fight drunk with drunker.

Brown’s love for the Pass/Fail option is like Romeo’s love: too boisterous, too rude, and it pricks like a thorn. You should know the dangers, gentle soul. While S/NC is nothing if not alluring, no one outside of Brown knows (or cares) about our accommodating curriculum. This sexy grade-less option can provide gusto for a class you otherwise wouldn’t have the guts to give a go. And there’s the love. But explaining what an S means during your graduate school interview is delicate at best. And then there are the pricks from Penn who think we’re graded with heart and smiley-face stickers.

About as useful as decaffeinated coffee and as speedy as Ben Stein’s speech, SuperfluousRide is something you’ll hear about ad nauseum during orientation. But unless you live in Perkins (circumstances that lead us to lend our deepest sympathies) then there’s no reason to wait for a sluggish, clunky van that has more stops than a telegram from Ernest Hemmingway. You’re better off walking off that Spicy With. Which reminds us, a Spicy With is a fried chicken sandwich from Jo’s whose level of tastiness (palatability) is directly correlated with your blood-alcohol content.

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