Never Try To Sleep On The BC Couches (And Other Things We Learned This Weekend)

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Head of the Charles: Great tradition, great race. If we weren’t in the Heights office on Sundays, we would definitely be there.

Slow Motion Video on iPhones: This feature isn’t new, but we just found out about it, and it is fantastic. You can slow down any video that you take, and it instantly becomes three times funnier.

Butterfingers: Ever since we were children, this has been our favorite candy. We can’t quite explain why, but on the rare occasions (and they were indeed quite rare) that our mothers let us pick out a piece of candy in the check-out line at the grocery store, we would always choose Butterfingers without fail.

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Butterfingers: On Saturday, Tyler Rouse seemed to have these and not the delicious yellow-wrapper-enclosed kind.

Projects Due After Midterms: You just made us pull an all-nighter to cram for your midterm, and then you add insult to injury by making us pull another for a project due two days later? Actually, it’s not even insult to injury—it’s injury to injury. You don’t hit a guy when he’s down on the field, and you shouldn’t in the classroom, either. Come on, have some compassion.

Standing at Football Games: Call us lazy, but we are really tired of this expectation that we stand for the entire game. Our feet are tired, we are losing, and we have quite had enough of this.

BC Couches: We think there is a conspiracy among whoever at BC is responsible for selecting furniture at BC. We are sure they must have met up over a nice lunch supplied by BC Catering, and, after trading pleasantries about their wives and children, gotten down to the business of finding the most uncomfortable living room furniture known to man. Really, though, you have to scour the earth to find furnishings as uncomfortable as the couches in the senior dorms. We tried, mind you, and the only instance we found of couches as uncomfortable were from Soviet Russia. That doesn’t really count, though, because in Soviet Russia, couch use you.

Weekend Elevators: Let us cram great masses of humanity into tiny spaces to move them vertically through buildings. Then we shall know them as they truly are. When the night is young, one can walk into the elevators of Ignacio and smell the cheap perfume, stale beer, and ebullient hopes and expectations of carousing youths as they do not go gentle out into the good night (or anything close, really). But as the night winds down and the witching hour approaches, the swarms return to roost, this time dejected and dispirited, and the elevators smell like sweat, vomit, sex, and regret. And we know them as they truly are.

Featured Image by Graham Beck / Heights Senior Staff

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