By the time you’ve been sorted into a House, you’ve (hopefully) removed yourself from the infinite email lists you joined in a sugar-induced haze at the Activities Fair in the fall. However, “[INSERT HOUSE HERE] Open” soon becomes the listserv you love to hate. With the opportunity to reach hundreds of classmates with a single click, students tend to crowdsource even the most intimate of their insatiable questions and quandaries. Because you only have access to a twelfth of the messaging mischief, FM has compiled the Best of House Listservs 2013-’14.
Winthrop is not the smallest House, nor is it the largest. A certain resident, however, found the dining hall to be four flights too far from her bedroom and implored that neighbors “help out a girl with tired legs :)” and tell her if there was anything good at Brain Break.
While Girl with Tired Legs waited atop her ivory tower for a kind soul to bring her a PB&J, others expressed their support for the budding musicians of Harvard—in the daytime, at least. More than one poor soul with a midterm in the morning let the House know their slumbers and/or all nighters were being interrupted by trumpeters and piano players during the wee hours of the morning. If they must do so, one emailer implored, could they at least bust out a lullaby?
In the entryway on the opposite side of Tired Girl sans Brain Break, an unfortunate student was foiled by their own hygienic pursuits. We’ve all lost a sock or two in the bowels of the dryer, but to lose an entire load? Let’s all hope you were just trying to remove a stain from the Emperor’s New Clothes.
Missed connections are no longer just for sexy strangers on the Subway. One Matherite found herself in a Craigslist-worthy encounter when she took custody of the umbrella left in the library by a tall, foreign, possibly crew-rowing, and “unremarkably” brunet male. As far as we know, Unremarkable Crew Brunet is still wandering around getting wet in the rain, while the girl faithfully keeps his umbrella company. There’s a romantic comedy somewhere in there.
On April Fools’ Day, the sender of one email was (we hope) the only one foolin’ around. A common room frequenter was turned accidental voyeur when a couple decided the singles in Mather was just too stuffy to enjoy each other’s company. For the sake of everyone involved, we hope the ping-pong tables are regularly sanitized.
On the surface, Matherites seem to enjoy office technology of yore more than anything else on a Friday or Saturday night, preferable with a PBR or two in hand. No, they don’t have pressing memos or contracts to send, nor are they beginning of movement of 1985-focused Ludditism. “Faxing” has somehow become a euphemism for partying on the Mather-open listserv. In a recent post, one student asked if there was a fax machine for student use within the concrete complex and quickly received several replies promising a “HUGE fax machine” for students, all night, in a particular Tower room. We just really, really hope the hosts played “Damn It Feels Good To Be a Gangsta” in homage to “Office Space.”
To the “grinch” that stole someone’s Christmas tree before Winter Break, you better have deconstructed the goods and distributed miniature trees to children in hospitals to recreate the cheer stolen from the person left in the lurch. Could you just let them know when the tree will be making its way back home? The self-described “mother” misses it (cue the sad “Charlie Brown Christmas Time is Here” music).
Distracted by the pure delight of a non-HUDS meal, one Cabotian accidentally abandoned his Panera takeout in the dining hall. When he returned to reunite with his dinner and it was nowhere to be found, he took to the House list to locate the missing sandwich. A helpful resident shortly replied that he had seen two pieces of bread with some stuff in the middle left behind after dinner hours. We have yet to come up with a better description to help locate the missing masterpiece.
If your spring party is called “Party” but in a foreign language with an accent circumflex, it must be a better party, right? Initiated by an enterprising senior, a market for Fête plus ones has already emerged on the House list. Students sell their extra tickets now for a reasonable price, only to sell them for much more closer to the event. After one student called out the senior for attempting to swindle fellow residents, a debate was sparked to discuss the ethical implications of making money off friends and blockmates. Everyone seemed to have a say for various reasons, including a folklore and mythology concentrator who thoughtfully supplied the tale of Ethan Allen for a more allegorical approach to the situation. In the end, everyone would be much happier if they got off the Internet and found dates to invite as their plus ones.