U GUYZZZ I HOPE I GET INTO ELIOT HAUS!!!!!111 NOW SIGN MY SHIRT

We just heard about the most EPIC party. No, seriously. It’s a slumber party. For the freshmen. On the night of March 10th, 2010. Which just happens to coincide with the night of, uh, RIVER RUN.

After reading the description of the event on Facebook, we wanted to weep. Are these the kinds of lies we’re feeding the young ones these days? That the night before Housing Day, you’re supposed to wriggle into your cute jammies, bring a few pillows, and scrawl on cheap Hanes t-shirts with markers that are probably already too dry? That the night before Housing Day, you are to partake in this “much-cherished pre-Housing Day sleepover ritual”? (Note to freshmen: It’s not.)

Listen up, freshmen. The night before Housing Day (called “River Run” for you n00bz) is not meant for your ass to be wiping the gross, pillow-strewn floors of Annenberg whilst decorating cute shirts. The night before Housing Day is a night meant not to be remembered, but blurrily and hazily recalled the morning after (“I puked WHERE last night?!”). The night before Housing Day is a night in which a flask is highly advised. The night before Housing Day is a night  in which you are meant to go wild, party like you’re at a normal college like Tufts, and pay homage to the River Gods in any way possible.

[Disclaimer: The Voice does not endorse underage drinking or vandalism or fires.]

It looks like the College has decided to poop on Housing Day Eve as a whole. See the new policies after the jump. Class of 2013…looks like you’re SOL. Lucky number 13, eh?  Read the rest of this entry »

Oh children of this generation, why have you not learned that everything spreads faster than herpes in the Jersey Shore house? This little gem came across our virtual doorstep this morning, and we can’t decide whether to be disturbed, laugh, or run for the bloody hills. How about you decide?

“Hey you (yes, I mean you ladies),

A wise man once said that a rich man can find no compensation for his time wasted on helping those who, though they may have asked for it (and wish it with all of their hearts), do not need or deserve such aid and may be viewed through vengeful eyes as the contemptuous bribe of a vain individual lacking ambition and sympathy all at the same time. Speaking of which the Freshman Formal (otherwise known in some circles as the “Snow Ball”) is approaching, slowly but surely, with each day that passes. Its eventual arrival cannot, to my knowledge, be stopped so I will cut to the chase. Out of the entire freshman class, I have selected you select few as recipients to receive something that few, if any, unselected individuals will ever have the chance to receive. Yes, you have guessed it (or have you?), I am extending the invitation to accompany me to said event. While you may be skeptical, I have planned for this by including a list of qualifications that make me the perfect person to have a splendid few awkward freshman hours with at our hallowed dance/shin-dig. They are as follows:

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Soon, the view from your window will look like this.

Hey Californian froshies,

You might have noticed that the nights are getting colder.

No, Noice isn’t referring to your lack of a lover. We’re referring to the temperature. With lows hitting the 40’s and the imminent threat of bitter cold on the horizon, now is probably the time you start to regret turning down Stanford.

That’s especially true if you didn’t heed the warnings about the frozen pit that is Boston (“Last year at Harvard-Yale someone got frostbite.. Despite wearing two pairs of wool socks!” “I forgot to dry my hair once and it turned crispy when I walked outside!” etc). We understand. Cold is a pretty foreign concept when you’re used to just palm trees and sunshine.

Luckily, Noice is here to help you naive warm weather babies out, in case you forgot to buy a balaklava before shipping up.

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Hot breakfast delicacy: Pizza with egg on top.

Recently (and by “recently” we mean this morning), Noice emerged from its cozy riverside home to traverse the Yard and into those forgotten depths of Annenberg, that hallowed hall of yesteryear, in search of hot breakfast, the forgotten delicacy which upperclassmen can now only dream of.

Indeed, the hot breakfast was found, but to our great dismay, it was not as delightful as our anticipatory minds made it out to be. In fact, it was actually kind of bad. The difference between those inferior, cold plates of upperclassman breakfasts and these silver platters of toasty meals can be broken down into a simple list:

That Which Annenberg Hath Which Upperclassmen Hath Not

• Sausages
• Pizzas with eggs on top
• Tasteless potatoes
• Tasteless eggs

That’s all.

Perhaps this is simply an anomaly — perhaps Noice arrived on a bad morning? Nevertheless, Noice gives Ye Olde Annenberg Breakfast 2 out of 5 stars.