Ad Pulcherissimam Fireassam Mariannam These humid days Tend to craze More than desert sun. But if her heat Will join this heat Then come come Delirium! The Beautiful Bain of My Existence (Jonesin’) We’re all struck soon or late, you … Read More
Dear Reader, My name is Rebecca Gold; I’m a junior, and a proud native of Chicago, Illinois. It’s a new season of the Nass and this time we’re doin’ it up big style like we was in the Casimir Pulaski … Read More
Last weekend I was visiting my good friend, T— and arrived at his domicile in the wee hours of the afternoon shortly before he usually awakes. I had not yet broken my fast, and I searched through his cabinets for … Read More
My father, Donald Elmore Dietz III, graduated from Princeton University in the Class of 1968. Originally a member of the Quadrangle Club, he found himself living with a bunch of boys from Cannon Club and switched over for his senior year. These boys are the men I now know as my father’s Princeton friends—Uncle Tony, Things, Gore, and Stone—whose pride in Cannon, “The Gun” as they affectionately refer to it, rivals their pride in the University itself. From the stories my mother tells, it seems that at the Cannon Club reunions that took place at my family’s beach house during summers I can no longer remember, these men kept the traditions and reputation of Cannon Club alive well into their forties.
“It’s been over a month since the night of September 10th, but the effects of the ICC’s decision have lasted far beyond Frosh Week. These effects raise the following question: Did the ICC’s decision to ban frosh from the Street help in the long run?”
Over time, people get to know which eating clubs are best for them, but in case you haven’t done that yet (and are still feeling a little lost on the Street at night), I’ve created a guide for people (especially a freshman) to follow so that they can decide what kind of eating club they want to go into depending on the kind of night that they want to have.
I hope you had a great Spring Break and a joyous Easter. When I was a kid, I used to go to my neighbor’s house for Easter, and all I can remember is that “doilies” seemed to play a big role in things, these little white lace doilies. I haven’t seen a doily since they moved away in 1997, and I don’t know where these people were from or if that was normal, and I mean, there’s certainly never been a doily on the Princeton campus, so if someone could tell me what that’s all about, that’d be great.
It was my first night drinking since February. I’d decided to take a break from alcohol for all of March—now that I have the freedom to buy my own alcohol legally, I don’t feel as compelled to jump at it when offered. But mostly, I just wanted to see if I could make it for a whole month.
