Initially, students resisted the original ice-water challenge, responding with sentiments along the lines of “I can’t risk tarnishing my digital footprint just before internship season” and “lmao no I would rather kms.” But after a strategic pivot (and a few dozen PowerPoint slides)  the team at USC Mind found a way to make the challenge appealing to all. 

Partnering with your cool friend’s favorite vodka company, the new-and-improved Smirnoff Ice Bucket Challenge was designed to promote “radical self-expression, mental wellness, and mid-tier vodka branding” by challenging students to funnel Smirnoff Ice whilst live streaming to social media. The rules were simple:

1. Fill a five-gallon bucket with Smirnoff Ice
2. Chug.
3. Tag three friends (or nemeses)

What started as a spirited display of student voice quickly spiraled into chaos as participants, most of whom had never consumed more than one room-temperature White Claw, began exhibiting symptoms of alcohol poisoning, intense regret, and being cool as fuck.

“I’m so glad we’re finally talking about mental wellness,” mumbled a sophomore sociology major from a hospital bed. “We as a society really need to…oh…oh god… I’m gonna be si—”

“Honestly, we were overwhelmed at first,” shared Dr. Ice, head of emergency services and yummy flavored drinkies. “Half of them came in for alcohol poisoning, and the other half were just crying while trying to explain late capitalism. No amount of plastic blue harm reduction cups seemed to be helping.” Sales for the company, however, have never been better. “Our brand is all about being bold, brave, and barely FDA-compliant,” said a newly-coked-up Dr. Ice. “This is just the beginning. Wait until you see our next campaign: ‘Snort Your Truth.” It’s gonna be big.”

In other news, a new, safer follow-up trend has begun to appear on the social media of liberal arts students around the country: “Don’t Speak Your Mind,” where students drink warm chamomile tea and quietly journal under a weighted blanket.

“PNS is a speakeasy,” a student told us, “except without all that kitschy hipster bullshit. We actually have taste here.” “It’s underground,” another student shared, “like literally, but also figuratively. Mostly figuratively.” Like most other speakeasies, Pendleton South is password-and duo push-protected. The key is given to students upon completion of their first WGST, Religion, Art History, or Comp. Lit course, and requires them to recite a monologue from Tolstoy’s “The Death of Ivan Ilych” to be granted access. Our advice? Really put some effort in, because only the patrons with the freshest takes on existential dread will be allowed into the VIP section. 

PNS is known for its extensive and creative menu, ranging from cult-classic cocktails such as the “Man-hater Mimosa” and “Cunty Cosmo” to Zoloft. Only open during full moons and Mercury retrogrades, PNS is the perfect spot to pregame your hot prof’s evening office hours or get that nice liquid blanket before your walk back to Bates. 

The general Manager of PNS explains that the delay in opening was due to an unusually tedious hiring process. “None of these bitches could even recite Chaucer,” she shared, “it’s like they had dads that loved them or something.” The application requirements to join the collective of PNSes include: a proficiency in tarot reading, an intimate knowledge of 2003 film “Mona Lisa Smile,” and what the Stone Center might refer to as “minor substance abuse tendencies.” 

Students across campus have expressed their excitement at the return of Pendleton South, sharing how thrilled they are to “return to a culture of casual yet exclusive socializing” and “reclaim the custom of partying in dingy basements and really recenter it in the joy of women, she/theys, and other marginalized identities.” We send our best wishes to the whole team of PNSes and hope you will join us at their grand reopening this weekend.

• No-Flake February: No, your color-coordinated GCal isn’t purely decorative. Go to all of your classes and events. Yes, even that one.
• Get-a-Meal-March: Grab dinner with that chick from your OM group who keeps asking.
• Adult April: This is an actual reminder to do your taxes. 
• Maybe May: No definitive answers. Or yes, idk. 
• Judgement-Free June: I don’t think you’re up for the challenge.
• Jerk July: Text your ex, tell them you’re thinking of them. 
• No Airpods August: (extends to all wired accessories too) 
• Solo September: 24/7 Solitary confinement.
• Broken-Charger October: Fish out that old mangled cord –– the one that only works if you bend it into an isosceles triangle –– we know you still keep it around just in case.
• No Nut November: We didn’t even have to come up with this one. 
• Shelter-in-Place December: Stay for Wintersession.

Have fun! And then reel that fun in.

The idea came to me when my roommate’s field hockey team had an away game at Rhodes College in Tennessee. She told me she’d be gone for a couple of days, which made me sad at first, until I realized what an incredible opportunity it actually was. A room all to myself! These days, finding housing is nearly impossible, especially around major cities. And everything’s so expensive! That’s why, when I listed my cozy, boho, dark academia aesthetic room with access to Boston on Airbnb, the people could not get enough of it. Charging just $50 a night, the cash came rolling in. I would sleep in the common room and stare at my bank account as my tuition practically made itself. It was a perfect arrangement, that is, until my roommate came back. The rest of her games were nearby, so it felt like she would just never leave the room. I started doing everything I could to keep her away overnight—I encouraged her to visit her family back at home, I made a Hinge profile for her in hopes that she’d match with some eager Babson guy and spend the night there, and when she didn’t want to sleep with Chad/Brad/Jake/Joshua, I even helped by adding a little something special to her drinks so that she’d remember how she has it good with him and return from a frat in the morning with a more positive outlook on life.

I thought I could keep this up for a while, but the signs started to become really obvious. I could explain away a random sock on her side of the room (oops! must’ve fallen out of my laundry bag!) or the occasional hair on her pillow (must’ve floated in through the window or something!), but when she came home early to the family of five playing Go Fish on her twin XL, I knew the jig was up. Instead of thanking me or being proud of my entrepreneurial spirit, she seemed really angry. When I explained to her that my tenants were all extremely clean, they were only around when she wasn’t there, and I even had the courtesy to turn all her stuffed animals around so they didn’t have to watch strangers have sex on her bed, she somehow got even angrier. Honestly, I’m just disappointed that she has so little respect for young women in business. Not everyone has Daddy’s credit card, I’m an entrepreneur, and it’s sad for her that she can’t see that. So tell me, Wellesley, am I the asshole?

1. Page-count-sources-cited: Cut to the chase –– tell me how many pages I actually have to read to sound smart at Thanksgiving.
2. Elementary: Tell me like I’m seven. Do away with the date, title and author, and just tell me what the vibe is. Long article written by an old white man about an older white man? Pass.
3. Boston: Like Chicago, just a little meaner and costs about 30% more to print. Undeniably cooler overall. 
4. Image: Month of publication is so dated, but Dark Academica is timeless. Why use a series of dates and surnames if a moody picture of dusty old books could say it all?
5. Audio: Picture this: your bibliography, but whispered in a sultry English accent (preferably Idris Elba).

We’ve also come up with new ways to organize your bibliographies instead of that dull, drab, uninspired alphabetical approach. Consider ordering them by:

1. Physical attractiveness of the author: Hotties first. Sorry, Foucault, you’re mid.
2. How badly your professor seems to wish they came up with it themselves: Easy Bib and Zotero just added a jealousy index sorting feature! 
3. How many times you’ve considered changing your major while reading it: Ranked from ‘This is fine’ to ‘Does Econ 101 still have open seats?’
4. How likely your Instagram infographic activist friend is to actually read it based on the political implications of the title: If it doesn’t fit on a Canva post, it might as well not exist.
5. Best to worst titular pick-up lines for your next night out: It’s all fun and games until you’re seducing someone with “A Post-Structuralist Reading of Modernity.”

We hope this helps you out with those final papers!