Seen At Brandeis in the Past Week:

- One chap snorting a pile of yay directly out of another chap’s filthy hands, in the middle of north quad.
- One gentleman blowing another gentleman in the stern of the cafeteria, at dinner time.

.......???!!?!

Week of Sobriety, Day 2

.....i'm out.

Redundancy of the Day

(courtesy of our very own Momma Voz)

Week of Sobriety, Day 1

Wintry sweats. My driving limbs, so heavy, so worn, flying down an endless flight of stairs, fighting down the rubbley rock-strewn pathways of my mind. Is it for the bud I cry, or for youth?

– oh! Ganja. So sweet, so alluring. A lacey lady of the night, she coos and calls to me, from my middle dresser drawer, where I keep her, but her zip-locked prison cannot contain her misty might. I ache to answer her siren scent.

My eyes are bloodshot; my ears ring with cannabis cries unreturned. The Campbell’s in my hand, soda on my desk do nothing to ease my hunger; I crave a different kind of fodder, Mother.

I need green!; but I only get more blue.


So I sit, and listen to Tupac.

BREAKING: Mont Parnasse Is Closed!

This is totally devastating news for all sandwich/lottery ticket-loving Chesterites. WHERE AM I GONNA GET MY SCRAMBLED EGG AND CRIPSY BACON ON A ROLL NOW? The Fountainhead? Mont Olympus? I THINK NOT.

Making matters more distressing is the fact that the reason behind said closing is entirely unclear – alls I knows is that there be a big fucking handwritten “CLOSED” sign outside the diner, and when you call their number (cause yeah, I have that shit in my phone) it is NO LONGER IN SERVICE!! And – AND – in addition to the closed sign, there is another, smaller sign reading “Come to the Mont Parnasse Café, 870 Central Ave."...which is in fact NOT the non-existent, fully made-up “Mont Parnasse Café,” but instead the totally crap Central Square Café, an establishment the V-Ls, as a family, never ever grace given some wack brawl we had there with the maitre’d in summer 1995...WHAT, I ask you, is going on here? Is this a case of Central Square Café attempting to POACH Mont P’s distraught old folks, confused and yearning for their half grapefruit, cottage cheese and rye toast combo?

If anyone has any further information on this matter, PLEASE, hit up the comments section.

How Was Everyone’s Saturday Night Goes To Hollywood

First off, another semi-disingenuous apology for not posting in while – gauche meetings with alleged college deans (“Listen, I work at a college; I understand that college kids smoke pot all the time, especially at this school”), a string of weird fucking finger injuries (mac and “cheese”? Really?), and an authentic LICE SCARE (if anyone needed confirmation that this shit is camp, not college) have been overwhelming the fuck out of the past couple of weeks. So, “sorry.”

Secondly, a few quick catch up items:

Both new episodes of the Sopranos have been WATCHED.
Head over to Shook for that coverage.

Kylie Minogue is staging a comeback.
Cause not even breast cancer can stop such fabulousness.

Starting next year, Fieldston’s tuition will be only $207 less than Harvard’s (without room and board).
But on the plus side, Joe Healy is thinking about building a new private toilet encased entirely in only the finest and purest of Titaniums. What’s that you say? Thomas Kelly has a gilded, ruby-encrusted one? Well...whatever – it’s not about competition, and anyway, Healy’s totally gonna let his minions use that toilet more than any independent co-ed day school master in the country.

And thirdly, try to crack this one:

Persons A, B, and C began their evening downtown on Person A’s roof – high on a boatload of potent B.Lovin. It wasn’t long after til they became extremely hungry. But alas, the hunger, tremendous as it was, was not as tremendous as their long-standing exceeding cheapness, and so a high sly mission was organized: to creep on over to the movie set where Person B’s father was filming, a few blocks away, and secretly raid the shit out of the Craft Services Food Truck. Unfortunately, the stealth walk over – complete with many detours, tail-losing schemes, and “oh shit, is that my dad? I think it might be – oh wait, no – it’s a 700 pound Indian woman”s – was a lot longer and colder than any of them had anticipated. The walk got so intense, in fact, and the hunger was so severe that Person A was even moved, at one point, to...erm, gutturally grunt-wail a low, frightening “GUYS. IS BLIMPIES OPIN,” as the group passed that establishment, sort of in the manner of Wesley Willis (RIP!) doing a Forest Gump impression. Persons A-C finally made it to the truck (Blimpie’s was, regrettably, not “OPIIN”), and much fodder, including chips, cookies, Dr. Brown’s sodas, Twizzlers, danishes, and some other shit I can’t remember was pilfered. The night ended at a neighborhood 24 hour deli, as even those glittery snackz were no match for the titanic appetite that that crazy B.Lovin had aroused.

Ps. Oh yeah, that B.Lovin I just told you about? Totally in the presence of George Clooney two nights ago. Yes.

Help Us.

Some of you may be aware of Brandeis’ fucked up, shtetled out “Oh, you have money for us? Of course we have room for you – there must be an 5-person linen closet we can shove one more bed into; come on over – don’t forget your checkbook!” housing policy. It was the same that landed us in our current orphanagey forced-triple bullshit, and the same that is responsible for next year’s huge, gorgeous, 8-person suite – complete with 6 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a fat common room..and...4 total strangers.

Well, strangers til now. After some snoopin, we have procured the names/facebook profiles of the 4 others. On the bright side, 2 of the 4 seem to be relatively personality-less: huge fans of The Postal Service and Garden State, from what we gather. On the (morbidly) darker side, here’s a sample from Suitemate #3’s livejournal (we shit you not):

i feel like im inside a black hole, with nothing surrounding me, except for the sounds and systems swirling around, making up my life. and we're just chasing time, flying, fast-forwarding us all into a spiral of being tired, of being irritated, of being... nothings.

music notes pass through me, penetrating my being. sometimes i dont know how i just dont.. drown.

being numb is really tiring. help me feel.
help.

i want to go home. i want to find it.

drowning.

Uh oh! That doesn’t sound good, Suitemate #3! May I suggest “Filigree & Shadow” by The Mortal Coil? Zach Braff’s blog might be of some assistance too. And drawing skulls on your converse sneakers can help a lot with feelings like those, so I hear. Or hey, you could always just hit up Suitemate #4 for a heartening shot of yay!, as we recently discovered that in addition to republican, rich, Asian, cheerleading, Long Island-hailing, and sorority-pledging, Suitemate #4 boasts coke-fiend on her lovely list of attributes.....yeah.

So, what to do? Well, beloved readers, that’s where you come in. The general goal as of now is to freak these bitches out as much as possible: we already have plans to refer to each other exclusively by Flavor of Love-esque nicknames (I’m “Hollywood”) when in their presence, to cover the common room walls in anti-Bush, anti- fucking- maudlin- extremely- poorly- written- livejournal posters, and to pretend that at least three of us are involved in a frenzied lesbian love triangle. But, though satisfying, it is our belief that that shit will do little to combat these broads and their ill-concealed pelvic bones. In short, we need your perverse minds, so start thinking. Our favorite suggestion thus far comes from M.Twist, a fellow who knows a thing or two about living with a raving band o crazies:

M.Twist: dude buy a rabbit's foot one day, put ketchup all over it, and leave it on [Suitemate #4’s] desk
M.Twist: and then bandage up the real rabbit's foot
M.Twist: OH FUCK DID YOU CUT OFF OUR RABBIT'S FOOT
"what? what?"
OH FUCK YOU ARE CRAZY!!

POLL #23

Is dying a white bunnyrabbit rainbow animal abuse?

Do we give a fuck?

Rachael Katz Knows Crazy Poaeple

pokeygetshigh: my feckin roommate
pokeygetshigh: omg you have to see this
pokeygetshigh: this is her away message right now...OH MY GOD
pokeygetshigh:

My mom always told me "you and your boyfriend must always value what you have between your legs." Some guys have good intentions, other don't. The worst feeling is the feeling of being used.

...

pokeygetshigh: oh my god okay
pokeygetshigh: my friend from home has this in her profile:

Redmonkey*: why are you so cool, lauren
me: because God made me that way

...

pokeygetshigh: annnnnnnnnnnnnd to top the night off
pokeygetshigh: what my friends boyfriend sent to her and she then posted in her profile:
pokeygetshigh:

imapepper****: awetkjuhdfoijeoraihtrughrgouieg;oijeag
imapepper****: irjgtoreglkejtgoijrgoidfg
imapepper****: oaij oie4
imapepper****: lidsfj wofij af
imapepper****: that was secret code for i love you

Updatez!

Challa at you, my readers. It’s been a pretty crazy half-week, what with Purim and reading this site, so sorry for that no posts deal. Here’s a list of shit that went down blah blah blah you know the drill.

I Got a D- (no but actually) on a History of Fashion (henceforth: History of Fascism) Paper, Because I “Wrote an English Paper for a History Class.”
Ummmmmm. What do you mean, Professor?
You used metaphors and were colloquial at times.
Right. So where’s the problem?
This is a history class.
Well, I guess so, in that we always talk about where your blazers came from, and the history of your dislike for poor people who can’t afford Chanel. Is there no room for style in a history (OF MOTHERFUCKING FASHION) paper?
Well I guess the real problem is that you appear to have neither a thesis nor an argument.
Oh, word. That does sound like a pretty big problem.
It is serious, yes.
I mean, actually, an essay with no thesis or argument calls for an F, surely.
I suppose.
So why D-?
Because your paper was actually fine and I only didn’t like it because your thesis attacks the materialistic ideals which I hold truest in life, so rather than dealing with that, I thought I’d just make believe you didn’t have a thesis at all, argue that you’re not allowed to use metaphors in history papers, and give you the D- since obviously I can’t give an F to a paper simply because it champions the working man over capitalism and the well-to-do.

Immigrant Bitches Snagged Itself Another Linky
This one comes from old pal / Scottish Freedom Fighter Billy the Kid. Even aside from the obviously superior linkage skills (right hand side, scroll down), this blog is definitely worth a gander. Cheers, Billy!

Shook The S is back in our good graces.
But his beard isn’t.

Some Bitch Grew a Huge Mango
I don’t really have anything else to say about this.

My Neighbor’s Window Was Peed on Last Night
Setting: Gordon 2.
Players: - Tabatha*, girl from across my hall; owner of literally the most annoying voice in history.
- Jane*, her roommate.
- Gay But Not Gay Sylvester*, who is gay, but not, and lives next door.
- Me.
- An unknown pee-er.
What Went Down: I am chilling in my fort, vap-ed out and minding my own business, when all of a sudden a piercing “OMG! Someone PEED on my window!” is heard echoing down the hallway. It’s Tabatha. Laughter, exclamations of shock, and even one “Yo shut the fuck up, we’re trying to read the Megillah” follow.
The voice of Gay But Not Gay Sylvester* is quick to put the question on everyone’s mind into incredibly gay words with a bellowing: “Wait, so like a cock just appeared in front of your window and then started to pee?” (!!!)
“No,” says Tabatha, near tears. “I don’t know. Jane told me.”
“Yeah,” Jane confirms. “I was in the room, when suddenly this drunk dude outside is like ‘YO IM GONNA PEE ON THIS GIRLS WINDOW.’ And I was like ‘Hey! Don’t pee on my fucking window!’ Then there was this pause. And then he peed on our window. I don’t know how he reached.”

So, essentially, I am living in an insane asylum.


WORD.
*((aliases))

New Game!

Courtesy of S. Dreyfuss: Californian, "otter," man.

Mar 7, 2006 5:35 PM

have u ever played the game where you smash your head down on the keyboard, and try to make a sentence out of the letters that show up??

GFYRU

erm...gay friends yell rude ululations

your turn

Your turn INDEED.

Rate That Beard

On a Mr. Eko Useless Beards * scale of 1-50, where 1 is a kind of constructive soul patch and 50 is a totally worthless piece of fluffed out nonsense, I give the above a 35. What say you?

*

POLL #22

Many of you are likely already aware of the wack jewish-mother-guilt-trip-cum-condemnation of us and our shitlist which appeared late last night on partner blog Shook the Spot. I see two ways of handling the situation.

We could either:
1) Pretend To Be the Bigger Blog by a) sitting back and (uh after this) not engaging in such pettiness when real things, like the emergence of recordings in which Yanni’s girlfriend calls 911 having been beat upon by him, are going on in the world, or b) publicly stating our extensive love and respect for S-the-S, and ssshhhhhh little lamb don’t cry, we were only joking blah blah blah....either of which would not only make us seem big-minded, but in addition would also rob Shook the Spot of the Im.Bitch fame he is so clearly secretly reveling in at this very moment (who can blame him).
OR:
2) Embark On a Series of Systematic and Open Assaults on various personal character points, facial hair choices, etc, of S-the-S, by which we would be aiming to first humiliate and then dominate.

The call’s yours, dear readers...(/ your move, Hustla.)

Today is International Women's Day

Ahahahhahhhaha.

IWD
Feminist calls for anger on Women's Day

Our Shitlist, 6th Edition

A who’s who of who we can't stand this week. Did you make the cut?





- George Bush
- Karl Rove
- Mike Rounds
- College
- The “city”(?!) of Boston
- Lindsay Lohan’s suspiciously sprightly nip
- The paparazzi
- That lil convenience store at the Stamford Train Station, which was OUT (o-u-t!!) of Fritos
- The conductor on Amtrak train #76, for giving me a weird look – and no answer – when I inquired as to “whether this train carries Fritos or just regular chips.”
- Charlotte Maddox, the 13-yr-old new mum who didn’t realize she was pregnant until she started having contractions, at which point: “I was screaming in pain and put it down to eating too much. I was screaming in pain and shouted, 'I've got to push something, it's coming!'" (Something.)
- COPS; fake cops who are actually professional rapists
- The sat upon, spat upon, ratted on.
- People who do not enjoy this headline
- Donald Trump
- Steven “Steve” McWheat
- Diana’s childhood psychologist, who clearly didn’t even begin to get that job done.

Immigrant Potpourri

Kevin Barnes Has an Outie, In a Big Way.
I know because he was waving it right in front of my face, gyrating on the floor in white, erm, slacks, and a child’s orange raincoat. Hot? Oh I think so. Hotter? The fact that the show opened with K.B. busting onto stage in a full wedding dress and veil, to the tune of “here comes the bride,” holding a giant bottle of champagne. He then took a swig, looked out at the crowd, and said “Hello, Boston. Will you marry us? Yes? Ok. Good. Now, let’s make some love.” Hottest? The fact that we were FRONT ROW, directly in front of Kevin Barnes during all of this. As in…so close that Arlene, his guitar, almost hit us in the faces like 7 times.

More German Pig News

BERLIN (Reuters) - A German farmer confessed to feeding the corpse of an elderly family friend to his pigs and then stealing from his bank account, police said Monday. Police ruled out murder and the 29-year-old farmer has been charged with improper burial and fraud. The elderly friend died in the farmer's yard in February 2005 and the farmer, through his mother, had power-of-attorney giving him access to the dead man's bank account and pension. The farmer initially put the corpse in a deep freezer, police in the German town of Frizlar-Haddamar said, and told curious locals the old man was in a nursing home.

"From lectures about various religions the 29-year-old knew that Buddhists either burn the dead or allow wild animals to eat them. That was how he decided to feed the corpse to his pigs," the police statement said. He let the corpse thaw, dismembered it and fed it to his pigs. He put the parts the pigs did not eat into a sack and buried it. The farmer told police "it was a great act of stupidity" and said "the only explanation was his difficult financial situation at the time."

Improper burial, really?

I Learned Two Things in History of Fashion Today:
1. Gabrielle Chanel celebrated “simplism”.…uhhh?
2. Our teacher has begun to read the papers we handed in last week, “which are, for the most part, really terrible, but maybe I’m just having a bad day. My checkbook was stolen. I just don’t know what to do.”

In Ancient Brauron, on the Attic coast, in Greece, there was apparently a wack yearly festival concerning some mythological bear-rape in which the little girls got to dress up as bears.
I don’t know if then they were raped or what happened next really, but yo…BEAR COSTUMES! BEARZ! I was totally born in the wrong millennium.

Hermione’s A Corona Girl

(slashfilm)

That’s right, sweetie. It’s all smiles now. But take it from Diana: time-turner it forward a few spins and you’ll be outside puking all over your just-in-case Ancient Runes textbook, sobbing, and shouting incoherently about whether we think Ron saw you by the Whomping Willow with your hand down Roger Davies’ dress robes...... Fuck Potions, Crookshanks: Advanced Herbology is where you wanna be.

Uh Oh

Jailed rap star Lil' Kim is reportedly terrified that her breast implants are leaking and is desperately seeking medical attention. The petite rapper - real name Kimberly Jones - was sentenced to serve a year and a day at the Federal Detention Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on perjury and conspiracy charges last year. A source tells the New York Daily News, "She's worried her boobs are leaking. She needs to have them serviced." Bureau Of Prisons spokeswoman Traci Billingsley refused to comment further on the matter saying, "An inmate's medical history is not public."
(IMDb)

Frankly, I don’t see what all the fuss is about: I’m sure there are plenty of inmates who wouldn’t mind giving those babies some service. Someone’s just being a little picky...

Things I Now Know About Stephen Colbert And/Or His Show That You Don’t:

- When Colbert says “fuck,” it is very hot.
- When Colbert told Huffington that they had wrapped a few minutes ago, everyone, including him, and her, and the cue card dude holding up the “wrap” sign, and us, thought that they had.
- When Colbert fucks up, it is also very hot.
- Arianna Huffington is tiny, and actually not a halfway bad dancer, but she also strikes me as a giant huge slut in her sparkly black top and ill-concealed backbones.
- When Colbert fucks up and then follows it up with an “I fucked that up,” it’s very very hot.
- A bunch of shit was cut out of the interview, including more about Hillary, and Huff’s suggestion that maybe Colbert should go to Baghdad.
- When Colbert fucks up again and then says “I just screwed that poodle,” it’s actually so hot that really there isn’t even a word to describe how hot it is.
- The “also, his last name is parrot” comment was added in on the third take of that falcon segment, on the last-minute recommendation of Colbert’s college friend who was in the audience; “the best thing about it is that his name’s parrot,” yelled the college friend. “You’re in!” shouted Colbert. And he was.
- When Colbert watches himself ferociously eating a turkey leg onscreen, it is violently hot.
- The right-hand side of the audience (Stage Left) is “never very curious” during the pre-show Audience-Colbert question-answer session.
- When Colbert explains why he finds lesbians hot, it’s sexual-orientation-questioningly hot.

MMHmm.

Ps. Those 3rd, 8th, 11th, 29th, and 40th ‘Whoooo’s Were Totally Mine!

The Way To An Immigrant Bitch’s Heart Is Through Her Blog / “This is the Most Masturbatory Site In Existence” – Gilroy**, 2005

**

It’s been a while since we published a hefty list of shit said about our favorite subject: us, and it’s 13 degrees outside, so let’s warm this piece up with a healthy dose of self-lovin, shall we?

Dr. Alexander F. Brown, Floridian, and the man behind my man on facebook, was kind enough to take a moment out of his demanding make-sure-Diana-doesn’t-steal-or-commit-some-kind-of-random-murder schedule to drop us this line:

Hot Immigrant Bitches has changed my life. Before I chance encountered this insanely witty and insightful blog, I was socially retarded and slightly overweight. Now I’m uber-cool, extremely underweight and addicted to the latest designer drug. Thanks Hot Immigrant Bitches!

That’s good news, Dr. Brown, cause if there’s one thing this blog hates, it’s people who are large. Know that.

Steven McWheat*, alleged quarter-Cuban, and Dr. Brown’s esteemed colleague, was, unfortunately, not psychologically sophisticated enough to grasp the concept of a review at the time of publication:
dirty_panamanian: wanna give molly a review for the blog? we’re thinking of doing a college edition review thing (we used to have like a whole review section this shit was intense)
Steven_McWheat: wtf?
[Umm…not that we ask for reviews or anything. We do just fine.]

*(names may have been changed)

Adriana Baum-Homie, whose dorm room walls sport both an Israeli flag and a giant close up picture of Gumby’s face, said, “Yo, that shout out on your blog was pretty sweet.” Not really a review in the classical sense, but frankly, that ornamental Gumby-Israel action needed to be taken public in a big way.


But our favorite recent Umm-H-I-Bitches coverage is without a doubt courtesy of affiliate educational-freedom-fighter and bright-young-thing bloggers Cossacky_Jew and Jewy_Puritan, the latter of whom continues to especially wow us with linkage performed with such finesse that not only have we stolen the schtick entirely, but also, on numerous occasions, we’ve actually caught ourselves thinking 'Whoa, that was a pretty nice post' before we register that Im.Bitch has been linked, which is pretty shocking given that we generally lose interest very quickly in things that we are not overtly the subject of. Then we see the link to us and our respect for the post is validated.

Ps. What’s everyone doing tonight? Are you going back to NYC to see the Colbert Report live and then eat some real food? Oh – you’re not? Awwe.