So the time had come again at Syracuse for Alcohol Awareness Week. Basically this is a week where students, okay mainly Greeks, are supposed to be more “aware” of alcohol. This “awareness” is culminated in an event called “mocktails” on Friday night. Each sorority is paired up with a frat and then they have a sober party. Not like “let’s just take a little shot beforehand” kind of sober, not “just one joint” kind of sober, not “a bottle of wine with dinner” kind of sober, but actually sober (yeah, the frats were confused about it too and asked if the mocktail money could possibly go towards the purchase of a keg).

While I’m usually the first to hop on (and steer!) the Friday night drinking train, I coudn’t help but be a wee bit reluctant to get my ticket for the Friday night sober train. I mean, really, what could that possibly be like? Unfortunately (or fortunately if you like to look at your mocktail glass as being half full) the thing about the Friday night sober train was that it was mandatory and my ticket had been purchased for me.

So, you ask, what goes on at a completely sober party? And how do people party withut the aid of mind numbing alcohol? Below is a pro/con list of my sober Friday night experience. And let me tell you; getting ready for the party without playing 3 games of Kings was a very strange feeling… Read More »

I don’t do sports. I don’t play them, I don’t watch them, and I most importantly don’t understand them. I still get basketballs, footballs, and blueballs confused. Until I was not-so-gently corrected by a friend, I thought Tiki Barber was the name of a Hawaiian hair salon. So it comes as no surprise that I not only don’t participate in watching the weekend football games, but I actually go out of my way to avoid them.

My roommate and I have an understanding: I leave the apartment when she watches the Eagles game and she leaves the apartment when I watch Grey’s Anatomy. We both find the others’ television viewing choice ridiculous and pointless. On the rare occasion I make the mistake of sticking around during a football game I am subjected to her ear-piercing screams that are so loud and so full of energy that people must mistake her cheers for domestic abuse. When they are winning she shouts; when they are losing she screams. Either way, it’s a lose-lose situation for me.

However, she apparently isn’t the only one that enjoys the sport and over the years I’ve had to endure several games. By several, I mean two. I’ve learned a few things along the way: Read More »

Keith Gessen’s novel, All the Sad Young Literary Men, was recently published. As a result, it stirred up scathing critiques as well as praiseworthy remarks. From the host of reviews I’ve found (both on the internet and elsewhere), no one has responded in a purely lukewarm manner. Nope. Mr. Gessen is either adored or reviled, and that’s where the critiques about his book stand too – all the contributing voices are absolutely opposed to one another.

So who is this Mr. Gessen anyway? Who cares? Mr. Gessen is a M.F.A. drop out from Syracuse University, and the editor for N + 1. As a literary magazine N + 1 exposes all the hackneyed writers of the world. Yippee. Gawker.com mockingly describes it as the “most important literary magazine of our time.” N + 1 sees itself as such, i.e. “mind blowingly intellectual,” and Gawker simply can’t help but invert such a problematic claim. Gessen’s personality, as well as this literary magazine, is throwing a wrench into my earlier comments that relate to Mr. Neyfakh’s article about Ms. Crosley’s supposedly fresh presence in the New York literary scene. Read More »