Dorky Drunk

For Valentine’s Day, one of my friends got his pre-med girlfriend a set of like 100 beakers. When she was out, he spread them out across her room. That weekend, they threw a chemistry party, and invited everyone to come wearing lab coats. All the drinks they made were mixed in large beakers and served in smaller beakers. We used the smallest beakers as shot glasses after measuring out how many millimeters constitutes a shot.

— J.A.S.

Drive My Car

I was driving behind someone the other day and was pissed off when they stopped randomly in the middle of the road. I realized the driver had stopped at a green light to let backpack-carrying students cross the street.

— M.H.

Runaway Chip

My parents were up at school visiting me for no particular reason except to enjoy my company, when I had a sudden urge to watch Sunday football. My dad and I went to Benchwarmers and settled down to watch over an order of cheese nachos. Mid-way into the third quarter, I fumbled a nacho onto the bar. Usually I would just feel awkward about whether I should clean it up or wait until the bartender came around. However, before I could make up my mind, a local Ithacan sitting next to me saw the cheesy nacho chip on the dirty bartop, picked up said chip, and proceeded to insert it into his mouth.

“Looks like you got yourself a runaway,” the man said.

—S.C.

More Than One Can Chew

I was sick of studying one weekend morning and decided to take a stroll. It had been a while since I’d last done laundry, so despite the winter chill, I set off wearing no underwear and summer-weight chinos. After a three-hour walk through the plantations, I came home to discover my penis had turned black with frostbite!

— M.A.S.

Glass Half Empty

After a long night in the studio, I and a bunch of my friends went to McDonalds. It was the last night of their Monopoly Pieces Giveaway, and we needed more pieces to try to compete. We got there at 11:30 p.m. and parked our car. When we got to the restaurant, we realized only the Drive-Thru was open, so we went through it on foot. We were all going to order drinks because the pieces were on the cups, but instead, the guy working the register just gave us a case of 50 cups. We went back to the studio, but instead of working on our projects, we spent 2 hours sorting through all the monopoly pieces. Sadly, we didn’t win.

— I.L.

Buddy System

I was alone in the Commons at 1:30 in the morning on a Monday night waiting for the bus. Suddenly, a man who looked disturbingly like Michael Moore showed up out of nowhere. For a second, I seriously thought it was that demented documentary filmmaker, and I had to fight the instinct to run away, but he had blocked me in so I had nowhere to run. He flashed some sort of press pass at me, so quickly that I couldn’t read the text, saying that he was a writer for a magazine and wanted to ask me a few questions. But what kind of reporter conducts a poll at 1:30 a.m. when there is literally one person around on the street?! He proceeded to ask me what I thought of Obama and legalizing marijuana. Two minutes of one-syllable answers and pained facial expressions on my end followed, and the strange man finally took the hint and left. Harmless, I’m sure, but I use the buddy system now.

— A.A.P.

Stuck Cold

A few days ago marked the first day in a VERY long time that the temperature climbed above 40 degrees. Thus, it was only natural for me to celebrate by throwing on some shorts, taking out my shades and pretending like I go to school in California. Unfortunately, the gods of Ithaca weather decided against sunshine and a warm breeze later that night. I ended up studying in the library for even longer than planned because I was too afraid to walk through the arctic chill back to my house.

— B.H.E.

You Got ’Em

The drive home from the library at 1 a.m. on Friday was its usual game of “avoid the drunk girls,” until my car was suddenly commandeered by two of my giant, male and obliterated friends. I put my head on the wheel, clicking my heels to go home, as they screamed something about Ruloff’s. Then a cops car goes by. Then my window goes down. Then the word “Pig” is screamed from my backseat. Then the red lights go on. The cops approach the car, and instead of reprehending the backseat criminal, he starts shouting at me that, as a driver, I am responsible for what my passengers say, and, if necessary, I should use force to make my 220 pound passenger exit the vehicle. After looking at my shiny backpack and taking in the enormity of my study hair, he asks, “How much have you had to drink tonight?” After I respond “four cups of coffee” he takes and checks my license and registration — you know, to make sure I wasn’t that giant redhead girl wanted for stealing a backpack’s worth of political philosophy articles.

In the end, he let the screamers go, only to wink at me and say, “That should teach him.”

You definitely got him, sir.

— S.S.