Thanks to an anonymous tipster, here’s a video seemingly from last year’s Titanic theme party at Ivy, the Princeton eating club. One of their many theme parties throughout the year, this one involves a chosen Jack and Rose, seen being Jack and Rose here. Seniors dress up as first-class passengers, juniors as second-class, and newly minted Ivy sophomores as third-class passengers. Because if there’s anything Princeton loves, it’s clearly defined class statuses.
Hey everybody! It’s time for another installment of “Corey Dissects a News Article From an Ivy Daily – Line-by-Line, Paragraph-by-Paragraph – And Adds Some Jokes And Stuff In Between.” (Actually, remind me to come up with a more succinct name for this.)
Anyway … today’s article comes from the Daily Pennsylvanian and is titled “Students Admit to Stealing at Fraternity Parties.” In other news: water is wet, college graduates are having a rough time finding jobs, and the Chicago Cubs are not a very good baseball team. This from the front-page story:
Traffic cones, fraternity pledge paddles, handles of Banker’s vodka and an 8-ball are among a list of things that Penn students have admitted to stealing from fraternity parties.
Theft usually occurs when fraternities or an off-campus house affiliated with a fraternity hosts a party for students. In these situations, students create a “wide open door” for theft, Vice President for the Public Safety Maureen Rush said.
Was it really necessary to put “wide open door” in quotation marks, as if it’s some little-known technical term for people walking into your fraternity house and stealing your shit?
I guess there’s a reason Michelle Obama is skipping out on her Princeton reunion this year: Troy Patterson reports in GQ from the front lines of last year’s festivities. Hey, remember reading I am Charlotte Simmons? Well, you will in a second!
Who fuckin’ tonight? Who fuckin’ tonight? Who fuckin’ tonight? An older guy—identifiable by the pattern of his orangeand-black blazer as an ’84—wiggled his head to the groove, bald spot mirroring red light. A girl in a white miniskirt rocked out by back-kicking with a bandaged ankle while swinging on crutches. Behind the cage for the sound engineer’s booth, a kid pissed in a cup, tucked himself in, popped his collar, and briefly humped the nearest girl.
This is a reporting coup, or something — Patterson tells a heartbreaking tale of staggering drunkenness, with ambulances rolling up and Shirley Tilghmann in attendance. The story ends with a young man asking our author the time — just after 5am! — and declaring it’s “time to get the party started.” Perhaps all these recent college grads are trying a little too hard to recreate the college experience. Then again, Patterson — Princeton ’96! — was out at 5am too, if only for reporting purposes. Michelle Obama aside, I guess we all have our vices!
Here’s a nice, end-of-semester tidbit. With the help of many IvyGate links and pics, the crack investigators over at Guest of a Guest have done a thorough rundown of the Ivy League’s Spring booze-fests, from Lawn and Slope to Fling and Chewbacchanal(?). The results are compelling. The article lavishes praise upon our Ivy shindigs (though Harvard and Columbia are noticeably absent) before criticizing NYU’s painful-sounding “Strawberry Festival.” Its full of witty commentary and worth a read.
Highlights of the weekend included a Mr. And Ms. Brown competition, and, according to the Brown Daily Herald, “popcorn, cookies, and other food refreshments in the Blue Room”. Man, those Brown students can party!
Oh Ms. Atik, you know just how to amuse us sardonic, self-hating Ivy Leaguers. Then again, you did get tricked by our MGMT-April-Fools post…
Well, that’s settled... Our friends over at HuffPost College just released a list of America’s Top Ten “Anti-Party” Schools. Harvard took the number four spot, the only Ivy to grace the list. Their reasoning:
Harvard students must clear proposed parties with school administrators. The school does not recognize fraternities and sororities, and party rules are strictly enforced by Cambridge police — the fun must end by 2 a.m, and once that happens, there’s always homework to be done.
How surprising, given Harvard’s phenomenal history of successful parties! The anti-fun designation probably won’t do much to hurt Harvard’s matriculation rate; only its general coolness and community well-being. So no problem!
The Crimson‘s FlyBy Blog reports that the annual “Mather Lather” party — at which Ivy League undergrads rub foam all over themselves and pretend to be Ke$ha — was disrupted by a smoke alarm. The foam registered as “the [moral] equivalent of smoke,” whatever that means!
Many of the partiers—many wearing just wet bathing suits—seemed to remain spirited, and most were waiting to return to the party once it reopened.
Aw, Harvard. Even when you try to have fun, you just… can’t. A smoke alarm disrupting your biggest bash of the year? Could you get any more Steve Urkel? It’s like Monty Burns said: “I say let Harvard have its football and academics. Yale will always be first in gentlemanly club life.”
Bostonist alerts us to the sad, strange saga of two Harvard Crimsoners who decide to go on an expedition to that far-flung land of the Houyhnhnms Tufts Jumbos. Turns out, the party scene at Tufts on Valentine’s Day (huh?!) is no better than Harvard’s. Okay! Did the Crimson put two investigative reporters on the case, or were these two exciting, worldly people (who for some reason took a “$15 cab ride,” all right, Harvard, to a place that commenters note is easily accessible by T) just going to Tufts anyway? They may as well have written their article before they left Cambridge for the night; count the cliches in this excerpt alone!
Three girls pirouetted violently on the dance floor while a frazzled frat brother nursed a paper cup. A collection of listless sorority girls loitered in the hallway, coats on as if about to leave. We sauntered past lots of rooms, some with people in them, none with anyone even close to making out. Oddly it reminded us of Revenge of the Nerds.
Or was there an even douchier party in the Ivy League this weekend? Always a possibility.
When Harvard’s Pforzheimer House announced it was throwing an official Aleksey Vayner-themed party last week, we assumed it would be a 495-lb. blast. People could come in karate robes, or Under Armour and dance pants; gently serve tennis balls at 140 miles an hour; there could even be a little table in the back for plagiarizing books about the Holocaust. Picture it: 2 a.m., hundreds of “Impossible is Nothing” acolytes swilling Aleksey Ale and Vayner Vodka Tonics, ballroom dancing to the beat of “Solamente Tu Amor” and “The Way of the Sword” — what could go wrong?
Alas, as the above photo shows, the event was rather under-attended. In fairness, it was up against Winthrop House’s “Country Clubbin’: A Harvard-Yale ‘Tea Partay’.” More depressing pics after the jump; either this means Alekseygate has officially gotten old (should we cancel our Christmas benefit gala for Youth Empowerment Strategies?), or it’s just the usual case of Harvard kids unable to have fun when it’s handed to them on a platter.
Uh, make that “A Sorta Ivy Halloween” — we have an angle here, we swear! The pics in this collection are from the Facebook account of Chris Brady, Yale ’05, the grandson of former Treasury secretary Nicholas F. Brady ’52. Chris is a true blueblood (FB groups include “There’s a Yale Building Named After Me” and “1st Team All-FarHills Steeplechase”), and he parties accordingly. That’s Michelle “Harriet the Spy” Trachtenberg at right with Lydia Hearst-Shaw (Ford model, daughter of Patty Hearst, heir to the Hearst publishing fortune, and vampiric breast enthusiast), hanging out with Chris at New York’s Bungalow 8 the other night.
More pics after the jump, including one absolutely astounding shot of Michelle’s tongue.