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.
by Isabel Henderson on
Without Greek brothers and sisters to guide us, the class of 2016 is the first to navigate the treacherous seas of passes and lists alone. After a year of stumbling drunkenly around the Street, we feel that the classes of 2015, 2014, and 2013 (and maybe some pre-frosh out there) would appreciate and find humor in our (very biased) insight into the distinct cultures of infamous Princeton Eating Clubs.
by Denuk Buggybuk on
It was just one week before that these same sophomores were sitting in my common room, nervously tugging at their hair and preparing themselves for bickering. Some were discussing which outfits to wear for bicker—in the case of some, this meant strategically picking shoes that could withstand intense moisture, snow, and beer spillage, yet still not appear sloppy. Some girls were flipping through bicker guides prepared for them by upperclassmen friends. I overheard two sophomore boys in Frist struggling to come up with five interests to write down on a pre-bicker survey.
by Lily Offit on
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.
by Donny Dietz on
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.
by Sabrina Berkowitz on
Late one night last weekend, waiting in the checkout line at Frist, an individual approached me to say that he was of the notion that I was the author of the anonymous “Ask A Girl” column that had recently debuted in the pages of the Nassau Weekly. It’s a strange feeling, being framed. Because no matter how utterly NOT the author of this article I am, the mere speculation draws from the ether an imaginary ghost-me, with ghost intentions, leaving splotches of invented ectoplasm on laptop keys I never pressed when never sitting smirkily in my dorm room, midnight hour, writing a column that the real me- flesh, bone and conviction- simply does not believe in.
by Rebecca Gold Gold on
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.
by Rebecca Gold Gold on
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
by Amateur Psychonaut on