Archive | May, 2012

How to Eat Like A Cannibal: Thoughts On The Impending Zombiepocalypse and Facial Seasonings

31 May

In case you’re wondering, there’s a cannibal in Miami. Quick summary: DUDE ATE SOMEONE’S FACE OFF.

This zombie sure had a lot of… DEADication!

Slower summary: The man — later identified as Rudy Eugene — was caught lunching in the nude on the nose, eyes, and other facial features of the homeless Ronald Poppo, whose pants he had also removed, indicating that he was probably intending to eat more than just the face. However, law enforcement was notified before he’d nommed on Big Poppo’s sausage, and politely asked him to stop. Eugene growled at them and continued ripping the man’s face to shreds. Determined to continue his dining experience, Eugene was unfazed by the first bullet which the Miami po-po had inserted into his body, and continued consuming the face of his counterpart until they had added more.

Fuck this shit about Eugene being high on bath salts. The police just don’t want to come to terms with the facts: the zombie apocalypse has begun.

Here’s the logic. For one, he was eating the guy’s face off. Cannibals would go for the meatier parts, like thighs and arms and literally any part of the body that had more muscle than the face.* Zombies go for the face because they instinctively know, like ancient Egyptians and nose-pickers everywhere, there are brains if they just dig deep enough. Two: it took multiple bullets to stop him. I mean, duh: he was already dead. Police aren’t telling us that the second shot was a lucky one to the skull, which, as everyone knows, is the only way to kill a zombie. Three: has anyone spoken to the victim lately? No. So we’d better be prepared for the moment when the zombie virus takes hold and he chomps off the hand of the surgeon trying to put his lips back on.

Mayor Tisdahl’s really let herself go recently…

In preparation for the imminent apocalypse, I, Eleanor Kinkervoss, have stolen my bandmate’s copy of the Zombie Survival Guide and begun assembling my culinary wiles, in case the time comes when I must surrender my life and afterlife to actually be undead. If I’m gonna be craving human nomz, I’m going to use my mad cooking skills to be a fucking gourmet about it.

So fellow culinary whiz Professor Vandernips and I have teamed up to inform you of the best ways you can eat a face.

Honey Butter and Cinnamon
Take it from Ellie K as a kid: mixing up equal parts honey and butter tastes delicious when you slam it on toast. Make sure you spread from forehead to chin: nostrils are just as easily butter-plugged as toast holes.

Marinated in Oil for Three Days
= pizza! The pores of your victim will gradually clog, causing the condition known to sentient-ish preteens worldwide as “pizza face.” The longer you marinate it, the cheesier it’ll be. Add some pepperoni if you’re feeling crazy– the red sauce is already provided!

BBQ Flavor
Most people like brisket, some people like pulled pork! Why not settle for a dry rub (not the kind you’re thinking of) and then make a quick BBQ sauce. Bobby Flay, the mighty grill douche from the Food Network probably has some great recipes, but who can complain about a quick KC Masterpiece?

A Cuban
In the spirit of Miami, why not substitute human flesh for the meat in your cuban panino (IT’S SINGULAR ITALIAN, I’M FUCKING PRETENTIOUS, OK?), and slap on that mustard and bread & butter pickle. Everybody likes sammiches, and your ham was just as pale and pink as your victim’s cheeks,** right?

Half of Northwestern is pretentious enough to say on a regular basis that “That restaurant’s korma just wasn’t as good as the stuff we had on our spring break,” so if you’re feeling the spices, make a tasty thai or indian flavored stew out of the guy and eat it with some hot naan or pita. He doesn’t even have to be Thai or Indian-flavored to begin with (like Costco preseasoned meats) – we support color-blind cannibalism here at the Ave. C’mon, guys, race is only skin deep.

Remember to practice fire safety!

Get heinous and heathen, and make it a tribal ritual if you’d like. Invite some people over and have at it in a regular ol’ Luau-style bonfire. Wanna get fancy? Pop an apple in his mouth!

Like zombie vegans. If you’re concerned about the welfare of all living creatures, you don’t even have to hurt the cheese bacteria to have a delicious meal – just tear right in and enjoy.***

Best of luck, fellow wildcats. If you need us, we’ll be on the top floor of Swift, having destroyed the staircases and stocked up on seasonings. The Professor says he’s bringing the grill.

-Eleanor Kinkervoss and Professor J. Reginald Vandernips

*Don’t you give me none of that tongue-is-the-strongest-muscle shit.
**Since a butt cheek joke is imminent and we’re discussing ridiculous things, we’d like to inform you of some shark that has allegedly developed a taste for human asscheeks thanks to some douchemuffin divers and their unfortunately placed fanny packs.
***Well, maybe some salt and pepper…

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A Freshman Guide to Not Getting Mugged

28 May

Graphical representation of what the perpetrators probably look like.

So no one told you college was gonna be this way.[1] Your job is, indeed, a joke (who actually studies?! DRINK THE LIQUORZ FER DAYZZZ #YOLO). Your love life, unless you’re a swarthy AEPi brother, is definitely dead on arrival. Northwestern is most certainly not broke (Our endowment is bigger than that time Twattingworth met the Beatles and Jesus and then YOLO’d all over them),[2] but you, hypothetical-and-almost-certainly-not-reading-this reader, are about to be BROKE ASS POOR, because Northwestern is rife with bands of roving armed militiasprobably unarmed youths who will demand your wallet, your Andy’s Custard giftcard, your iPhone, or YOUR LIFE.

Continue reading

(Los) Zetas

23 May

Don’t worry, we’ve got this pregame covered.

Fellow students, it has recently come to my attention that there is among us a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A transvestite on a unicycle. Even, dare I say, a Ron Paul in a chocolate soufflé. I speak of course, of Los Zetas.

Founded October 15, 1898 at the State Female Normal School in Farmville, Virginia when commandos from the Mexican Army deserted in favor of working as the armed wing of the drug trafficking Gulf Cartel, Los Zetas have become one of the world’s most powerful Panhellenic drug cartels, with over 206,000 initiated members and 246 chapters in the US alone. In Mexico, Los Zetas have a powerful presence in Hidalgo, Chihuahua, and Oaxaca, among other regions, with Executive Offices in Nuevo Laredo, Mexico and Indianapolis, Indiana.

Known far and wide for their five-pointed crown symbol and twin mottoes of “Seek the Noblest” and “La Policía Va a Morir,” Los Zetas was founded by nine women with the help of Arturo Gúzman Decena, a retired Mexican Army lieutenant. One of the founders, Maud Jones, wrote “There were six or seven of us who used to frequently meet together and talk over and try to devise some way by which we could unite into a helpful and congenial band,” to which Decena added, “Y Ganar Dinero… y posible asesinar los gringos.”

The syndicate has claimed vast swaths of territory, including South Campus Beach and Dillo Day bathroom lines

The question, my fellow Americans, is this: What shall we do in the face of this challenge? Shall we rise up like the Spartans of old? Or shall we cower like the French of every period in history, including today? …honestly, you’d think they’d learn.

Wait. What do you mean I’m mixing up the international women’s fraternity Zeta Tau Alpha and the violent criminal syndicate Los Zetas? Look, I know my research, dick.

So what if Wikipedia says otherwise? No I will not be silenced!


Ahem. I for one, welcome our new ZTA overladies with open armies. I mean ARMS! ARMS! And um, cupcakes! Yes, cupcakes for all!

Please don’t hurt me.

Dr. Tattersail is the author of several books, short stories, essays, and intoxicated Facebook wall-to-walls, including the New York Times bestselling graphic novel The Clitoris: I Found It! and the Newbery Award Winning children’s book Hey You! Yeah, You Kids! Get the Fuck Off My Lawn! Praise for Tattersail’s upcoming novel, Consenting Adults, Drug Mules, and Biden: A Memoir abounds, including:

“A masterpiece” –Chicago Sun Times
“A literary tour de force” –New York Monthly
“Tattersail creates a world of magic and sincerity the likes of which I’ve never seen.” –Homeless man outside Taco Bell

Miley Cyrus Mad Libs

22 May

Miley Cyrus has declared the act of intercourse to be “a beautiful and magical thing.

Horny in the U.S.A.

…just in CASE you were wondering whether she was still striking terror in the hearts of parents of horny tweens across the country. Or if you were wondering whether sex is indeed a beautiful thing.

Anyways, let us collectively wish an unplanned pregnancy upon this classless strumpet (it seems like the only thing that might actually remove her from Hollywood) with a set of Mad Libs. Simply answer the questions below and fill in the blank spaces as commanded – no cheating!

  1. toy
  2. your “type” (e.g., athletes, pre-meds, gingers)
  3. your favorite sexual position
  4. how do you feel after 2 weeks without any sexual activity?
  5. how do you like your breakfast in the morning? (adjective)
  6. your porn star alias
  7. on top or on bottom?
  8. #1 person you’d bang if you could
  9. verb
  10. location
  11. interjection
  12. the title of your favorite porn movie
  13. interjection
  14. method of communication
  15. depraved sex act (urbandictionary style)
  16. noun
  17. unclean adjective
  18. toy
  19. genitalia
  20. #2 person you’d bang if you could
  21. verb
  22. location

Send yours to me at, and if your Mad Lib turned out as attention-seeking and degenerate as Ms. Cyrus herself, we just might publish it.

Pole dancing at the Keg can get pretty rough.


Oh yeah
Come on

You get the [1] out front, ooh-a-ooh
Hot [2], every [3], every color
Yeah when you’re [4] it can be kinda fun
it’s really [5] but no one ever discovers

In some ways you’re just like all your friends
But on stage you’re [6]

You get [7] of [8]
Chillin’ out, take it slow
Then you [9] out the [10]
You get [7] of [8] and you
Mix it all together and you know that
it’s [7] of [8],
The [7] of [8], ([11])

You go the [12] premiers
Hear your [13] on the [14]
[15]ing two [16] is a little weird
But school’s cool cuz nobody knows

Yeah you get to be a [17] girl
But big time when you play your [18]

You get the [19] of [20]
Chillin’ out take it slow
Then you [21] out the [22]

You get the [19] of [20] and you
Mix it all together and you know that
it’s the [19]
You get the [19] of [20].

Dillo Day, as told by a real live drunk person

22 May

Where you will never, ever reach.

Guysss. Guys. Let’s go do a shot. I love shots! Can you believe it’s only 10 in the morning? We’re such alchies! Wait, no, GUYS. Is that a keg? I’m so good at keg stands, I wanna do a keg stand! Guys, come on hold me up. Ok, how do I do a keg stand? Ew no, I wanna go play pong. Guys, you’re like my best friends. Ugh I love you so much. We’re seriously besties. Let’s get a bestie pic! OMG it’s so blurry let’s take another. Wait no, I wanna go to BK! Let’s go to BK! Are we going? Guys, come on it’s BK!

Wait wait wait has Lana del Rey played yet? We have to get to the lakefill! I don’t wanna miss it. Ok, let’s take like three shots and then go to the lakefill? How do we get to the lakefill? Does SafeRide run on Dillo Day? Ugh, fuck you SafeRide! How am I supposed to get to the lakefill now? Wait, are we taking shots? Don’t take a shot without me! Hold on, I need a chaser? What?! How can there not be a chaser! Fine, I’ll just do a man shot. Enrique, slap me after I take this shot! Ew, what is this? Is this Skol? Whatever. What should we do the shot to? OMG, TO DILLO!!! Ew that’s so fucking gr- OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK ENRIQUE. WHY THE FUCK DID YOU HIT ME. THAT FUCKING HURT. Oh my god that is not how you do a manshot! Ew, I’m never doing any more shots. Wait, has Lana del Rey played yet? We have to get to the lakefill! You guys, come on!

Peeing and puking at the same time is a real time saver!

You’re like my best friends. I love you all so much, let’s take a pic! I need a new cover pic, ok perfect. OMG we’re such messes. Totally white girl wasted right now. Wait are we going to the lakefill? Where the hell is my wallet?! Not again! Wait, help me find my wallet! Oh wait, I found it, it was in my wallet. I mean my pocket. OMG I’m so drunk! Why is it so hard to walk? Who made it so hard to walk?! Wait, I’m starving can we go BK? I love DILLOOOO! No, you shut the fuck up! I will fucking fight you. Whatever, I wanna go to BK. Wait no, Philly’s Best. We’re so close! Where are we again? Is this Fridge? Wait, where are all my friends? Shit, I just spilled. Fuck. Ok, I’m just gonna go to the lakefill. I love Lana del Rey, she gets all my emotions! Guys wait up! Shit where are my shoes?! How is it only 10:15?! Guys wait up!! Oh there you are, what street are we on? What the fuck is Garnett?! Is the lakefill on Garnett? Did we miss Lana? Can we stop and get food? I want a piggy back ride! Enrique, you owe me one! Ugh, fuck you. Wait I have to pee. Oh my god I have to pee so bad. I’m just gonna go on this tree. This looks like a good peeing tree. Holy fuck that was the best pee of my life. Dammit, I peed all over my leg. Guys, wait up! I’m soo drunk, college amirite? Are we at the lakefill? You guys are my best friends! Enrique, I love you even though you hit me. Cause it’s Dillo! You know what I just realized? Dillo sounds like YOLO! Do you think Drake is gonna be there with Lana? Do I Love Dillo Once, that’s the motto! DILLO!

Shit, that’s a cop. Everyone just calm down. Fuck! Where’s my phone. Should I ask the cop to call my phone? Ok, he’s gone thank god. I’m so drunk right now. Wait why’d we leave Fridge? I wanted more shots! I love shots! Wait this is Sheridan! The lakefill’s on Sheridan! Yesss, I love you guys. You’re my best friends. Except Enrique, he’s like the anti-Dillo. Do you think Enrique heard me? But you didn’t have to buttt me out, make out like it never happened and that you were bluffing! I love Gotye, maybe he’ll be at the lakefill. Wait guys, did I puke? Why is there puke on my tank? Fuck, have I had puke on me in all the photos?! FUCK. I need to change. Enrique, give me your shirt! Fuck you Enrique, you probably puked on me when I was giving you that piggy back ride. Guys, can we stop and get food? Is that pizza? WHERE THE FUCK IS THE PIZZA? Oh my god, IFC I love you. Guys, I’m like gonna binge eat this. This is the best pizza ever. Wait, can we take more shots? I cannottt deal with Lana sober. Oh fuck I’m drunk. Wait this pizza is not staying down! Fuck! Get me a trash can!…. Fuck this, I don’t even want to go to the lakefill. Where can I pass out? Are we near Allison? I’ll just go sleep in someone’s bed. Guys, go without me. Oh my goddd, DILLLOOOOOOO.

*With apologies to an Onion article that I think had a similar concept once but that a quick Google search didn’t turn up so IDGAF.

Breaking: NATO Representatives to Attend Dillo Day

21 May

Moments after the NATO leadership announced its decision to shotgun in the bathroom before heading to breakfast.

Although the NATO Summit wrapped up this afternoon, dozens of leaders from various NATO member countries will be sticking around the Chicagoland area until Saturday to “throw down” at Northwestern University’s annual music festival and renowned shitshow, Dillo Day.

Among some of the most well-known representatives attending the day-rage will be Afghan President Hamid Karzai, British Prime Minister David Cameron, and even President Obama, not to mention the leaders of 31 other NATO members and ISAF contributors.

“Although we all agreed that the summit in Chi-town was one of the most important diplomatic forums of the year, many Heads of State as well as the international press corps simply could not resist the prospect of challenging the former Warsaw Pact to a keg race before stumbling to the lakefill to catch the last five minutes of Big Boi’s set,” stated NATO Secretary General Anders Fogh Rasmussen, prior to a meeting with Pakistani President Asif Ali Zardari regarding the opening up of supply lines to sneak Jim Beam onto the lakefill.

“I mean, right after we all decided to withdraw from Afghanistan faster than a Beta inside a slampiece, Franky [French President François Hollande] was all like ‘Dude, Reel Big Fish were like my third worst guilty pleasure in high school’ and a motion was quickly approved by the military alliance to totally cruise the lakefill, maybe pick up a tan and some biddies, and just get fucking heinous. #YOLO, amirite!?”

The announcement has many Northwestern authorities on alert due to the increased public scrutiny and difficulties that arise from hosting so many high-ranking government officials at one shitshow.

What do we want? KATY PERRY!!!

Students have been advised to expect delays in Shuttle and Saferide services as belligerent diplomats and their motorcades navigate from pregame to pregame, and all females have been warned to stay a safe distance from any Italian diplomat. Dean of Students Burgwell Howard also sent out an email to the student body pleading that students “Please, please, pretty fucking please just play it cool around the Ghanaian delegation.”

Although some experts predict that scores of protestors will also attend the event, other analysts remain confident that the students will be far too schwasted to take valuable time away from belting “Break Even” down Sheridan Road to mount a serious protest. Yet the University is taking several measures to heighten security, most notably trebling the size of the Northwestern police segue presence in an effort to ensure that no cabinet minister unaffiliated with the University is robbed of their cell phone.

When asked about the presence of NATO member nations at Dillo Day this year, most students remained nonplussed. “NATO Summit?” asked Chad Hartwicke Cunningham III (Comm ’13), “Is that one of the bands playing this year? I’ve never heard of them. I’m not really into that hipster shit.”

Review: Joe Pug at Lincoln Hall

21 May

Joe Pug. In a vest.

Few men can silence a room by simply playing their guitar and harmonica. But that’s just what Joe Pug pulled off repeatedly last Friday night at Lincoln Hall, extinguishing the conversations of drunk teenagers and fathers by dropping his music down to the barest possible finger-picking — reducing a rowdy weekend crowd to absolute calm as every member strained to catch Pug’s lyrics.

Much has been said about Pug, and many have fallen for the singer-songwriter harder than a Chicago Bulls starter crashes to the floor in the playoffs. This phenomenon probably has something to do with Joe Pug being one of the best new songwriters in America, and the fact that the man does everything right with his music, from the recording and distribution of his songs to his stellar live performances of them.

Joe’s second full-length album, The Great Despiser, is barely a month old, and it is already the embodiment of all that is good in music. And Pug, the man who used to cover the postage to mail burned copy of his EPs to fans who requested them, knows that the best way to publicize an album as amazing as this one is to tour the living shit out of it. Which brought Pug and his touring band to the confines of Lincoln Hall at the same time summer weather and unwashed protestors were flooding into Chicago. Coincidence? Probably, but all three made my life much more interesting.

Plenty of singer-songwriters know how to poorly fingerpick, play harmonica, and come off as “Dylanesque,” but Pug knows how to do all of these things well. These are the qualities that are laid bare in Pug’s live performances, backed up by a killer touring band transformed into a force to be reckoned with thanks to oodles of talent and the conviction that comes with touring behind music of this magnitude. Together, Pug and his band transform the boundaries of folk, country, and rock n roll all in one blistering rendition of “Speak Plainly Diana.”

They brought the Lincoln Hall crowd of hipsters, empty nesters, radio DJs, and college students covertly sipping on Keystone Light to the edge with killer versions of songs like “The Great Despiser” or “Nation of Heat,” but had the capacity to bring immediate peace to the audience with a performance of one of Pug’s numerous hymns. I swear, that man has written more hymns than most Methodists can even conceive of.

It’s next to the place where Dillinger was shot.

I’m not the only arrogant douchefeather who holds this opinion, but the only artist currently working on Joe Pug’s level is Justin Townes Earle. The two are impeccable song-writers, crafting their music that gives due deference to the canon they harken to while simultaneously pushing new boundaries, kicking ass, and taking names like their Woody Motherfucking Guthrie III. It doesn’t hurt that the two can finger-pick like Merle Travis if he had grown up listening to Bruce Springsteen and both men are about as American as PBR and Republican primaries. But far more palatable.

Lyrically, Pug remains ambiguous enough to maintain an elusive quality that heightens each song’s value, but tangible enough to feel like a line directly referencing your individual situation. To be honest, I still can’t tell if the lyrics to “Nation of Heat” are about America’s abuse of the lowest rungs of society, his mother, or Sylvia Plath.

Across from the prison and beside the great lake
Below the rooftops and above the highways
The spirits pay rental on the basements they haunt
And the pages just draw pictures of the things that they want
I cook my dinner on the blacktop street
I come from the nation of heat

Maybe all three. Who cares? It’s a great song, and I love it, and Pug and his band killed it last night. Also, the bassist looked like he was having an orgasm the whole night every time he played a long tone, and the drummer sometimes looked like a pissed-off Zach Galifianakis. These are all good things.

But the best part of the night came after the show, when Pug shook hands and chatted with every last audience member next to the merch table. It’s how Pug does business — give your fans an amazing musical performance, then spread the good word through personal connections. And sell a lot of vinyl LPs while you’re at it.

The Absolute Worst Places Ever

20 May

Everyone knows that feeling. When you’ve ended up somewhere that you have no desire to be. It could be that you’re sober at a formal and your date has the conversational skills of R2D2. Perhaps  you’re babysitting a bratty ass kid who won’t shut the fuck up and the parents have put a lock on the liquor cabinet. Or maybe you’re in the back of a cop car after getting busted for child pornography marijuana. No matter the situation, we’ve all been there. Don’t worry about it; it happens to the best of us. To aid you in your avoidance of all places horrific, I’ve compiled a list of the most monstrous atrocities geography has blasphemed Northwestern with.

Tech library is really just the North Dakota of Northwestern.

Tech Library
It’s either cold as shit or hot as a fucking frat party. The crowd it attracts is questionable (read: engineers and frat boizz) and the food options are pathetic (I LOVE IT WHEN TECH EXPRESS IS CLOSED AND THE VENDING MACHINE WONT TAKE MY $5). There are no outlets on the third and first floors (no you’re absolutely right tech library, no one uses laptops in this day and age!). There aren’t enough study rooms, and the few that do exist are always occupied by selfish fuckers who take up entire rooms for themselves. Dicks.

Sheridan Road
The sidewalk is so crowded that it’s impossible to achieve the optimal stride length needed to book it from Tech to Kresge. But don’t even think about biking, because you WILL clip someone’s heels and you WILL be an ass wipe. So you must shuffle along with your face scrunched up, engaged in a fruitless battle against the vicious wind. It’s practically guaranteed that you will encounter someone you know, but chances are it will be the absolute last person you want to see. It will be that creepy fucker who keeps texting you, or that guy with the salivary glad condition whom you drunkenly had the misfortune of tongue wrestling with. For the love of God don’t make eye contact.

Excuse me, I’m blogging here.

Before you spit your drink out on your keyboard in shock, hear me out. It’s not that I don’t like coffee. I fucking love coffee more than anything that ever existed. I like my coffee black, bold, and strong (LOLOL innuendo). I prefer to brew it myself, using a French press and dark roasted beans. Which is precisely why I don’t appreciate this “Tuxedo Mocha” or “Tree Hugger” or “Funky Monkey” bullshit that Kafein has to offer. Like really, wut? I don’t understand what these drink titles mean. But since every single person ever just absolutely fucking adores Kafein, I gave it one more shot. One recent afternoon I donned my black-rimmed Ray-Bans and my best flannel shirt in preparation for an afternoon in caffeinated hipsterland. The trouble started early. I walked up to the counter and stood there like a blithering idiot trying to find a menu. JOKESONJOKES THERE IS NO VISIBLE MENU ANYWHERE. I ended up blindly ordering an espresso macchiato. It was over-priced and under-delicious. Oh gee, I’ve just turned my nose up at a place that is popular among my peers. Does that make me hipstah?

The Bobb laundry room
I just…I can’t even. It smells like a decomposed scrotum. Approximately 87% of the machines don’t work, but will take your quarters anyway. The lighting is reminiscent of a mental hospital. The air is so… moist. I would literally rather drink nothing but pickle juice for a month than spend a single unnecessary moment in this desolate suckland.

The only bar in America that looks more desolate in the daytime than the Keg.

The Deuce
Or, as I like to affectionately refer to it as, The Mark II Lounge. The Deuce manages to combine all of my least favorite things: cab rides, fire-hazard-level crowdedness, and pricey alcohol. It literally takes all of the worst aspects of an on-campus party and makes them far away, inconvenient, and expensive. Also, the free pizza is a recipe for disaster. On one of my recent Doucey excursions I dove into that pizza like a freshman diving into a party during Welcome Week. Regrettably, I was too shwasty to remember to check if the pizza was cheese or pepperoni. One gigantic, pepperoni-filled bite later and my vegetarian self was expelling that pizza all over the Deuce floor. This behavior was heavily frowned upon. I was asked to leave. In a cab. Fuck. I hate the deuce.

So there you have it, you silly little fuckers. These places should be avoided at all costs. Take Sherman Ave instead of Sheridan Rd. Study in Deering instead of Tech. Go for months without doing your laundry. Stop pretending you’re hipster and get your stupid Latte from Norbucks. Above all, do not end up at the Deuce. If you do have the misfortune of ending up in one of these heinous places, sucks to suck. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

Spring Quarter Sustenence Slump

18 May

Holla if this is your spring quarter food situation:

1)     You’ve been eating at Allison/Sargent/Plex for 3.6 quarters now, and you’re so goddamn sick of meatloaf/stale desserts/ loneliness (respectively) that you’ve taken to crossing campus for a change of scene.

2)     You’d go out to eat, but you’re too damn broke.

Lucky for you, asshole, I’m bored, creative, and inclined to try and find flavor in a hopeless place. And lucky for me, Shepard has a wonderful kitchen (all the better to make homemade munchies with. Suck on that, Willard). So in my last quarter with a dining hall meal plan, I intend to modify and compile some recipes whose ingredients can either be easily lifted from the dining halls or bought cheaply at CVS.

Questions or contributions:

The best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth

At the hall: Barbecue Chicken Pita Pizzas

So I try to powertrip as politely and unobtrusively as possible.

But holy shit you guys I found this and it’s actually the most delicious thing on the planet did you know that you can actually make it in the dining hall if you put everything on and stick it in the microwave you don’t even need to steal the shit oh my god the world is full of joy and deliciousness and I just brought it to you please send me lots of compliments because clearly I deserve them also I definitely didn’t make this several times in a row and then walk around socializing with my plate so that people who are plate gawkers would check it out like “what’s that?” and I’m like look at meeeeee you wish you were this innovative nom nom nommies I am enjoying my food today thanks to myself FFFFUUUUCCCCKKK YEEEEAHHHHHHHH.

Sorry about that. Here’s what we’ve got:
Pita bread
Grilled chicken or plain tofu
Onions (grilled or raw)
Barbecue sauce
Feta cheese

The best way to do it: put the feta in the pita and warm it in the microwave. If you’re vegetarian, get the tofu Go to the sangwich/wrap station and ask for the grilled chicken and some barbecue sauce – you can put the onions on while waiting in line.


I’ve had this tested on trusted individuals, but let me know if you have other ideas or modifications to this.

Recipe credit goes to:

It also looks like the result of Ross Packingham after he pregames a formal!

At home: Banana Bread Pudding

From the dining halls:
1/2 cup butter
a shitton (loaf) of bread, cubed
1 cup sugar
4 cups half-n-half, (or cream, or milk)
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon – West Side Plex, by the hot water

3-4 sliced bananas

4 tsp vanilla (if you like to bake, this is a good investment anyways)
6 eggs
1 tsp nutmeg


Preheat the oven to 375. Melt the butter and stick it in an 11 x 13 casserole dish. Mix in the bread chunks in and get them all buttery, similar to the manner in which Sir Twattingworth buttered your mother last night.

Mix all other ingredients except bananas in a separate bowl and pour over the bread chunks, making sure that all the bread chunks are soaked. Stir in the sliced bananas and bake for 40-50 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean.

In other words, heat things up, get the bread wet, then stick the bananas in. Follow your primal instinct and in no time you’ll be moaning at the sheer joy in your mouth.

Recipe credit goes to:

May the heinous be with you.

Thesis: BraveStarr is Awesome

16 May

Entertainment is subjective.  There’s no set rule about what people are going to like. I like Breaking Bad, you may not; it doesn’t make you wrong, it just makes me hate you. But still, everyone is entitled to their opinion.  Because of this, I always supposed that there couldn’t be any “best” television show or movie.  There wasn’t an “end” of entertainment.

I was wrong.

Welcome to “Bravestarr” ladies and gentleman, the best thing you can find on Netflix, or, for that matter, anywhere.

Seriously, fuck you Aquaman

Pictured here…. shitting? I don’t know. It wouldn’t be the most useless thing he’s ever done.

Bravestarr is a cartoon show from the 1980′s featuring the single-greatest cast of characters ever assembled. It’s like the Justice League, only nobody is dragging down the team awesomeness level by being Aquaman. Our protagonist, Bravestarr, is a space Marshall on the planet of New Texas, and sets the bar pretty high for coolness and college applications in the universe by being both a space cowboy AND a space Indian.

Bravestarr fights the minions of the evil “Tex Hex,” a space outlaw who operates under the orders of “Stampede,” who is a demonic-looking Broncosaur skeleton. Reread that. You got it? No you don’t. Read it again. Now you got it. Holy shit, that’s awesome.

But still, horses are dicks

This is every game I played as a child manifested as one man

And here’s the thing about the show. You’d think that the awesomeness would have to taper off at some point, but it never does. Does Bravestarr ride a horse? No. He rides his deputy, who is a horse that can talk, stand up on his hind legs, and fire a rifle. Why can he do all these things? Because fuck you, that’s why. But seriously, the real reason is because it’s awesome. This show isn’t impeccably written, paced, or directed, but it is completely and unapologetically committed to being cool, or selling toys, either way it works. Don’t believe me? You’re saying, “sure, this show has a cool hero and villain, but what 80′s show doesn’t? You expect me to be impressed? You’re pathetic.” Fair point hypothetical person who has the same voice as my Dad. So lets look at even the minor characters that make up Bravestarr’s universe.

This is the description, provided by wikipedia, of the Bartender, named Handlebar. Now,

Nice tie

Standard reaction to Bravestarr

being a bartender in a Western is literally about as much of a secondary character as you

can be — it’s one of the only roles that fits the category of “scenery” more than character. So let’s take a look at Bravestarr’s approach to this background character: “A hulking, 14-ton, green-skinned bartender and former space pirate from the Rigel star system, with a bright orange handlebar mustache and a Brooklyn accent. He mostly serves BraveStarr and Thirty Thirty a drink called “sweetwater” in his bar, as they sit and discuss the moral lesson learned in that day’s episode, although he does engage in a fight with a mechanical steer named Rampage in one episode and wins. If faced with trouble in his bar he uses the serving trays as throwing weapons.”

"Lets give the Hulk a mustache and make him TEND BAR!"

And we haven’t even talked about his outfit

You can literally read any single sentence of that description, and have enough coolness to completely fill a characters “awesomeness” quota. Then they put it all together. The pitch meeting for Bravestarr characters must have literally been a room full of men shouting adjectives that gave them erections.

Next time I tell a girl that I’m gonna “rock her world*,” I’m just going to take her back to my place and show her an episode of Bravestarr. We’ll both have more fun than if we had sex.

So there you go reader. There’s a lot of ways to procrastinate in college, but there is none cooler then watching Bravestarr. I understand my praise may seem hyperbolic to you, but you have to understand, that as a writer for Sherman Ave, I’m a journalist. I wouldn’t write this unless every word I said was true. That would show a lack of integrity, and I learned about integrity from an Indian space-marshal, so you know I learned it right.

*The only time I’ve rocked a girls world is when I ran over my ex-girlfriends cat. She cried. A lot.


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