Your plant is dead. Clean up after yourself.
So you bummed around your childhood home all winter break? Here's how to make your time away from Harvard sound a bit more productive.
It’s 10:30 a.m. on Friday, December 4th, and the Science Center is already mobbed. People sit on fold-up chairs and on the ground. Others lean against the wall. The crowd was for entrance to the IGP’s annual “Player of The Year” show, featuring special guest Nick Offerman.
Colleagues— It is my second time reporting undercover from the tastefully-glorified bowels of the Harvard art world. Nearly a year ago, I risked my metaphorical, aesthetic skin to faithfully recount the student opening of the Harvard Art Museums. I write to you today to convey the recent opening of sculptor Josiah McElheny’s “Two Walking Mirrors” at the Carpenter Center last Thursday, Oct. 1, at 5 p.m.
Cabot gym’s rep is well-deserved. It’s brightly lit and welcoming, with a full suite of swanky exercise equipment: dumbbells, a bench press, rows of treadmills, and rowing machines. Although all of this is packed into one room, it doesn’t feel cramped—there’s enough space to move about freely.
The first day of spring was this past Saturday, meaning that it is a blustery 30 degrees in Cambridge when I set out to begin my day on Sunday afternoon. Still, it’s 90 degrees somewhere—more specifically, it’s 90 degrees in the exotic locales my classmates are returning from, as they climb off of airplanes sunburned and with an Instagram feed much sunnier than mine (the status of my bank account vehemently vetoed any kind of international or trans-coastal flight).
This week in the oral surgery industry, I get my wisdom teeth taken out. This was never supposed to happen; my dentist originally justified the ordeal as medically necessary because a “rite of passage,” which just didn’t seem to cut it as a reason for a surgical procedure.
It’s Halloweekend, folks, and fuck if I’m paying for my own alcohol. Also, I spent my work-study money on lingerie, because this Halloween, I’m going as Molly Bloom. Molly Bloom, a character in James Joyce’s “Ulysses,” is a fierce bitch, and the novel ends on her “yes” of orgasmic affirmation. She is an artist and a badass motherfucker who eats sausages for breakfast.
There’s a cat in one corner, Steve Jobs in another, a pair of life-size salt and pepper shakers across from you. Obscene amounts of candy amass on top of tables and your roommates have decorated the common room with orange and black streamers. This means it’s Halloween and Halloween calls for some spooky alcoholic drinks. Here are some of FM’s favorites: