Toofer: “You know, I went to school in Boston. Well, not in Boston, but nearby. No, not Tufts–”
Jenna: “Oh, shut up. It’s 14 degrees there.”
Toofer: “… Harvard.”

Yeah, it's really that cold here.

Conan just peaced, Toofs. The pressure’s all on you.

Miss you, Coco!

Have the name of a Greek god. This one’s pretty obvious. How many gold medalists do you know named Andy Stitzer? Partly the doing of NBC’s prescient obsession with him the year of the Salt Lake City Games, Apolo Ohno definitely benefited from his dad totally freeloading on a pompous and possibly super traumatic naming decision. It’s unsurprising that the Olympic Committee granted him the gold medal even though he finished one of his races second–the man can bend people at sheer will, especially with hair like that. And it doesn’t really matter that Ohno wasn’t named specifically after the god, because really, who can focus on that when your last name is an exclamation in itself? We can all only stop hating him for him winning the genetic lottery when we find out how many times he was beat up in grade school before he started working out for future retribution. (I hope it’s a lot.)

Be a super-dee-duper All-American do-gooder. Pie-eating nationalists will always be predictably easy to please–you give them a wholesome, hardworkin’ teenager from the midwest just hoping to bring some honor to the heartland and they’ll stop being pissed that “My Name is Earl” won’t be the regularly scheduled programming for two weeks. That’s why all of the blond, freckle-faced youngin’s from Texas get all the attention during these two weeks every single time. Shawn Johnson, Sasha Cohen, that one chick who was actually really crappy at diving and yet got more camera time than the non-American gold medalist–they all had one creepy thing in common, and that was America’s capitalization on their patriotic cuteness and absurdly happy-go-lucky cheeriness. With their scarily vehement “GO USA!” chants captured on film for eternity, they might as well have been wearing eagle-emblazoned letter jackets onto the podium. Can we please just lay it all out? Because basically, Paul and Morgan Hamm are just two short dudes in tights wearing some ugly-ass primary colors.

Double the trouble is too much to handle.

Read more qualifications (or maybe disqualifications) after the jump.

Use as many “stoked’s” and/or “brah’s” in your interviews as possible. “Any medal would be good. A big gold one even better.” “My goal that day was to get a sunburn. That’s all I wanted.” And the best one: “Where would one find a Fabio cutout?” Yes, these words were all physically spoken by Shaun White.

I love lamp!

Engage unabashedly in douchebaggery out of the arena. Learn the best from Michael Phelps for this one. To be fair (and generous), cocking a baseball cap sideways and being stupid enough to get caught with a bong is probably the best way he knew how to celebrate depleting the earth of gold for centuries to come. Congrats, Phelpers! You’ve won our hearts AND our respect!

Say nope to dope, kids.

Have great hair. Did I mention that Apolo Ohno has great hair?

Shaun! Over here! We've found Fabio.

Compete on Dancing With the Stars in between consecutive Olympics and dance a lot of tango in tight pants. I forget where I was going with this.

Oh, right.

I know I’m making it really vague who I’ll be rooting for this time around, but I like to keep things a surprise. GO CANADA!

*(you know, minus the whole being born, naturally endowed with the biceps of a raging roid abuser thing.)

Photos courtesy of The Evolution of Jeremiah, Athlebrities, Celebrity Justice, Detroit Buckeye, and TV Guide.

"I'm just serving my constituents."

Obama is the new black: A politically charged model at New York Fashion Week.

So what’s with all the fuss that the White House is making about Weatherproof shamelessly appropriating the AP photo of Obama to their advertising advantage? Sure, the executive dudes may have breached some sort of promotional taboo, being all sly about permissions yet not violating any intellectual property rights whatsoever. But does it really matter whether it’s a matter of business ethics? It’s entirely appropriate that after being elected by a disillusioned 18-to-25-year-old age bracket who became obsessed with his “Be the Change” ideal, his appeal would be advertised to this same demographic using a hypervisual, commercialized vanity that completely characterizes this image-conscious generation. Hello, isn’t it obvious? Obama knows who to prop. White House, I gotta call you out on this one. Just chillax. Holla back at you, O-boi!

So let’s be real for two seconds. Obama’s probably okay with his face being plastered at 32948729387-megapixel resolution in Times Square. More than okay. Flattered, even. After all, the man’s got the authoritative charm of Reagan in “The Hasty Heart” and the supple skin of a baby’s bottom. (Is it Nivea? Tell us your secret!) In any case, if I were a New Yorker, I’d say my commute around town definitely improved from the days of yore.

Photos courtesy of Entertainment Rundown and New York Daily News.

Browse through the first page to see if anyone is professing his/her love to your oblivious “Hunky Australian philosopher” blockmate. A more interesting aspect of the site is the posted stats, collected from the submission demographics. Of all four classes, seniors are submitting the most sightings, perhaps in attempts to take advantage of the last opportunities to get to know the Serena van der Woodsen lookalike or the guy stuffing his face with pita chips at brain break. But most surprisingly, sightings occur more frequently at the 12 Houses than anywhere else on campus. Looks like more than a few people are too shy to chat even in the dining hall.

Read Noice’s favorite declarations of unrequited love after the jump.

Behind the counter at Lamont Cafe: “I saw you mixing it up at Lamont Cafe…I melted when you asked me ‘may I help you?’… I like a little milk in my coffee.”

On DeWolfe Street: “I saw you… walking with another boy while I was on a run. I ran as fast as I could directly in front of you both and I knew I looked good.”

Cabot Science Library: “I saw you…filling out transfer applications. Iowa State? Really?”

The cheese table: “I saw you… next to the cheese plate. Looking all hungry because you forgot dinner. What’s your name, delicate? Is it Yvonne? My little croissant. My little cheese.”

Lamont: “I saw you… And thought you were cute until…I realized you were watching Jersey Shore instead of working on your paper. In the first floor reading room no less! Get it together!”

Mather dining hall: “I saw you…reading Sex and the Ivy before frantically clicking a new tab as I walked by.”

Faculty Club: “I saw you… going directly from the tri-house formal back to Lamont to work on CS50.”

How appropriate.

The Harvard MP3 Experiment is modeled after those of Improv Everywhere, the masterminds behind such youtube classics as the Food Court Musical and No Pants Subway Rides. This event is being run by students at the Harvard Graduate School of Education.  Don’t worry, we’re not going to teach you anything.  Except possibly how to be more awesome.

Wait–why aren’t we doing the no-pants thing instead? Next time, Harvard.

RSVP to the Facebook event here.

Photo courtesy of Robert Southers.

Recently announced at a panel with various sociology and African-American Studies professors, Harvard plans to offer a course on the HBO series “The Wire,” a show about slum life in Baltimore. William J. Wilson, a self-admitted follower of the show and who will teach “Social Structure and culture in the Study of Race and Urban Poverty” this spring, will assume teaching responsibilities for the new course, which is already stirring up excitement among student fans. Sonja Sohn, who plays Kima Greggs, was also present at the panel.

To which we say… when are we going to see “The Theory of Arrested Development” on the course selection tool?

Yes, we can: Barack advocates for better library etiquette.

Loud roommates and claustrophobic Dunster walk-through coffins usually drive people to settle for a long night at Lamont instead. But certain peers, like those who play Miley Cyrus at full volume through their earbuds, can sometimes make us wish we hadn’t trekked all the way to the yard in the first place. Noice sympathizes with those who can’t even find sanctuary at the library. Beware of some of these types of people who may transform what should be a studious environment an experience from hell.

The Widener Walker. Some like to take a break from reading room by browsing the books, but beware of these leisurely strollers. It’s not unusual to see a random person hovering in between the expansive stacks. What’s weird is when they inadvertently end up playing hide and seek with you as you look for that elusive copy of a circa-1960s porn manual for your Lit & Sex paper. Peek-a-boo at its creepiest.
The Cabot Concentrator. Those isolated study rooms in Harvard’s dingiest library look like prison cells for a reason. Aesthetic appeal doesn’t even make the list–people come here to get some serious shit done. Those coffee stains crusted over on virtually every desk would shock us, if not for the fact that there’s probably a guy right now sprawled over his problem set, drooling. Noice advises bringing your own Clorox wipes to get rid of all the mystery bodily fluids.
The Lamont Lurker. Please extrapolate those assumptions you’ve held all along–that kid never ever EVER leaves. Ever. An anonymous source who works a late night shift at access services confirms the fact that these Lamonters will leave their stuff on the table at around 5 in the morning to head back to their house for a quick shower, and promptly plop back at their third floor desk to stick their noses back in the books at around 7am. This urban legend appears more than likely, given…

Today’s public service announcement continues after the jump.

The Desk Douche. Whoever told this hog that it’s okay to claim a spot by splaying his or her backpack and miscellaneous shit all over the best stack aisle on the first floor deserves to have his library privileges disabled. More likely than not, the selfish bastard is awkwardly chatting up his crush in the café (while everyone else has to listen. CRINGE). To those who encounter an empty yet monopolized desk, Noice gives permission to pull one of those sexy cinematic moves and sweep that shit under. Bitch, please.
The Café Canoodler. Don’t blame these people for coming to Lamont for some lovin’–packed with people of all years on weekday nights, the sham of a coffee shop gives plenty of boasting opportunities for that desperate grad student studying some kind of esoteric existentialism who just wants some fun distraction from his pointless dissertation. Under the pretense that they’re doing “work,” these mostly freshmen late-night prowlers creep around to check out the hot chick tutoring Life Sci, but usually just get fat from the double espresso shots they steal from the fridge instead. Understandably so, though, seeing as how Harvard plans to offer an alternative social space any time within the next fifty years. Any time now. Really. The library it is!
The Farnsworth Fuddy-Duddy. Be frightened–exhale once in the poetry room and expect to be shushed like a Catholic schoolgirl sassing the priest during mass. Oops, you dropped a Let’s Go guide on the floor accidentally? Prepare to die.

Langdell looks more appealing by the minute. That is, if you can handle a building full of law students.

Well. In that case.

Photo courtesy of If Charlie Parker Was A Gunslinger.

Follow these tips for '80s flair and you can be a boy toy too. Minus the making out with Britney thing.

Hand it to Leverett to make gyrating in a throng of sweaty freshmen a serious, sartorial affair. Advertised as one of the biggest Lev events of the year, HoCo co-chair Isaac Martinez ‘10 advises people to dress up for its annual ’80s Dance and “expect a lot more enthusiasm.” Those looking to make a noice neon impression this weekend should take note of the following fashion pointers that’ll even make Madonna in her “Like a Virgin”-and-pointy-breasts era salivate.

Sweatbands. Remember all those Richard Simmons workout videos from two decades ago? It was tacky, it was tasteless, and it serves as the perfect example of how your outfit should center around your hair accessory on Saturday night, not to mention that it should prove useful for wiping off the sweat you will rub off from the guy in the pink tights, leading us to…
Bright spandex. And by bright, we mean fucking radioactive rainbow. Bolder is better. We don’t know if we can find anymore alliterative phrases to drive this point deeper into the ground. Oh, wait–glaring garishness.
Hair that’s been battered and bullied. Can’t go wrong with teasing the crap out of your hair. Unless, of course, you’re Carrot-Top, in which case, touché–you’ve killed two birds with one stone.
Big glasses. Hey, you’re at Harvard; shouldn’t be too hard to find a pair lying around.
Consider a celebrity costume. Michael Jackson, pre-child molestation allegations. Madonna, pre-pre-divorce. Cyndi Lauper, pre…. well, in general. Go all out, and you might just find the Harry to your Sally on the dance floor.
Anything from American Apparel. Extra brownie points to whoever dons only the unitard.
Refer to the hipster sitting right next to you in lecture. Enough said.

Also, props goes out to Lev HoCo for a music video remake of the ’80s hit Jessie’s Girl, complete with procreating bunny. See the video and event details after the jump.

Jessie’s Girl – 80s Dance from Leverett House on Vimeo.

The ’80s Dance
WHEN: Saturday, October 24
WHERE: Leverett dining hall
TIME: 10pm-2am
ADMISSION: $5 until 11; $7 after

Photo courtesy of Bleacher Nation.

I’ll step out of your momma’s van.

So… when’s the beer summit episode going to air? Watch the comedic gold here.

Hello, world.

Sure, Harvard’s still working on picking its broke ass off the floor, but as a cutting-edge research university, some expectations that it’ll keep updating according to the internet’s modern standards remain despite a total endowment fail. But after browsing through some webpages affiliated with FAS, we… well, we really wish we hadn’t. Luckily, Noice did all the dirty work to save all the Harvard kiddies some cyber-aesthetic pain.

THE BEST

School of Engineering and Applied Sciences: This one’s a no-brainer, what with all the hackers that the SEAS has on demand. With an exhaustive menu on the homepage, the site lets any idiot find anything, anywhere from research opportunities for undergraduate research as well as a complete census of the school’s demographics (74% male–again, no surprise there). Take a peek at the course website of CS50, maybe the only undergraduate class that doesn’t use a crappy my.harvard iSite (and also the only course page that embedded an LOLcat applet last year).

Anthropology: Links to sweet interviews with awesome faculty! Cool header! Sans serif font! Very noice indeed.

Literature: Shocker, right? But entering the Lit site proves to be a candied orgasm for the eyes with rainbow books as the background (gay pride, anyone?). Not only that, the department proves it’s not just about lofty and obscure theory and academia, as shown by its extremely functional, minimalist menu on the bottom, linking visitors to the department’s degree requirements easily and its Ph.D. dissertations pompously. But after seeing the quality of the site, we’ll forgive them.

See the sites for sore eyes after the jump.

THE REST

Visual & Environmental Studies: Always one-upping the academics who sit in Widener theorizing but never acting, those artsy-fartsy laborers in the Carpenter Center know how to combine pleasing color schemes, easy-to-browse organization, and plain and simple informational display into one straightforward site. With their front page constantly updated on upcoming exhibits and lectures given by visiting speakers, it’s easy to keep updated with departmental happenings. And if not for that reason, checking out some sweet art produced by resident professors isn’t a bad way to spend a night procrastinating on the internet. But surprisingly, VES’s web design skills weren’t as impressive as we expected. Two words: ARIAL BOLD. </vomit>

History of Art and Architecture: After a total revamp from last year’s arguably more modern, minimalist interface, the new HAA site appears too crowded according to a VES concentrator, not scarce enough by an economics concentrator, and not “philosophically stringent upon the work’s emotive display and discourse on contemporary aestheticism” by their own standards. In all seriousness, it seems bizarre that HAA would allow so much “anti” white space. But when in doubt, perceive it HAA-style–attribute it as an expression of pain.

THE GROTESQUE

Folklore & Mythology: Scroll all the way to the bottom to see the not-so-hidden Apple logo. Really? They couldn’t find anyone to design a website? And someone who didn’t think Microsoft Word clip art was legitimate graphic design? We’d say that’s completely heinous, but we didn’t mention yet that the front page consists only of American Heritage Dictionary definitions of the department’s title. The new FML: Folklore and Mythology is Lame.

Romance Languages and Literature: “Hey, Grandma Erma, want to make a website? What, you don’t know HTML? That’s OK, you can just draw something up on paper; we’ll scan it in.” At least it’s not as bad as the World’s Ugliest Webpage.

Noice's alternative to soggy PB&Js at FlyBy.

Let’s face it–that line at Flyby down in freezing-cold Loker is never going to get shorter before 1pm, so it’s time to find new digs to refuel after Mankiw’s lecture on… whatever. (Not like anyone was listening.) Next time, venture into Café Gato Rojo, almost hidden between Grays and Matthews and nestled in a nook underneath Dudley House, for a quick cappuccino and for a nice respite from the lunchtime fury.

With a conscientious menu of fair-trade coffees, Gato Rojo also offers muffins, scones, and other baked goods made fresh daily. For those not inclined toward caffeine (to which we say “WTF”), a generous selection of bottled juices, loose teas, and other beverages are also available. Not only do they take Crimson Cash, but a small coffee only costs around a buck. Read more about the hipster invasion at Dudley’s premiere lunch spot after the jump.

Enjoy your light lunch in the dimly-lit but cozy comfort of the quaint coffee house in large leather armchairs in the middle of the room. Don’t be shocked at the number of people wearing Wayfarers paired with tattered rugs masquerading as scarves; the café is frequented by musty-smelling and pasty-looking grad students trying to find self-actualization by downing three espressos in a row. Anyone hoping to check up on email before class in WiFi-hating Sanders shouldn’t be surprised if he/she can’t grab a table, as customers hover near the few outlets like gnats. But if nothing else, let the jazz music in the background give you a false impression of your French sophistication–and the fact that you’re surrounded by neon-pants-wearing hipsters reading about the anguish of modernity for their afternoon philosophy class bring you back to earth.

Er–I mean, Harvard.

Photo courtesy of Carrots ‘N’ Cake Blog.