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This fine Monday, we want to remind you of the glory that was the weekend.  We now present to you a new series: Field Notes, where we round up the drunk late night tips we received during the weekend.  Be sure to send in what you’re seeing this upcoming weekend to tips@bwog.com, or use our anonymous tip form.

Last week’s Senior Night was once again held at the Village Pourhouse instead of its regular Havana Central.  Revelers unanimously agreed that it was a “really weird scene.”  Something about moving a few blocks and an avenue changed something.  According to tipster, 1:43 am–”Just as awkward as at Havana, but somehow..;worse.”

Of course night life doesn’t just include bars.  Thursday, at 12:03 am, a tipster reported that a “guy across from me in Butler just pulled out a PBR…”

Then there’s the more abstract.  At 12:15 am on Friday, an anonymous tipster requested we start a new series where we “go to Greek life parties thrown to support a charity, and then ask the brothers at the party what charity they’re supporting. See how many of them actually know what it is.”  It should also be noted that on Thursday night, AEPi was having a “Rave Against Cancer” at Domain.

On Friday night, Bwog editors and Bwog tech discovered that we are not good at pool.  However Ding Dong Lounge was still, as always, gloriously uncrowded and filled with randos.

At 1:14 am on Saturday, a cat was found in a bodega on 107th and Amsterdam, pictured right.

Meanwhile, Josh Dillon, one of our Daily Editors, was in the middle of 24 hours in Butler.  More on that in a later post.

Saturday, 3:17 am: an unidentified male was passed out alone at a booth in Tom’s.  His friends took silly pictures.

But disaster struck at 3:51 am on Saturday: the fire alarm in Shapiro went off.  “But actually why cruel world.”

Worse, though, as reported to the McBain Facebook group an A/C unit fell from a window on Friday night and almost hit some people.  That’s actually pretty horrifying.

This weekend a tipster went to Village Pourhouse for the first time and reported back: “way too lit up and old people were actually cheering over some baseball game playing on the 10,000 TVs there. The floors weren’t even sticky and so many seats were open!”  Maybe that’s why Senior Night was so weird.

These guys were overheard in Barnard Quad on Saturday night:

Over-eager friend: “Well, somebody’s going to suck for you. Just pick one!”
Flannel boy: “Somebody or something?”
More-eager friend: “SOMEBODY”

Saturday night, text-only tip: “Alma Mater is holding a penis…”

It should be duly noted that Lion’s Head Tavern can see straight through your fake.  Come on, people.

Apparently “Carman 8 got 2 more CAVAs this weekend, bringing them to 10 this year.”  Carman 8: keeping it classy.

In order to keep the line short at 1020, they’ve begun sending a strict bouncer to check the IDs of people waiting on the line–not just at the front to get in.  This has led to a major thinning out as people are tossed out before they even have a chance to stand outside in the cold for 25 minutes.  This also led to a primo overheard conversation:

Bouncer: How tall are you?
Him: 5’8
Bouncer: That’s funny, your ID says 5’10
Him: I know. (awkward silent, but continues with a straight face)… I shrunk.
Bouncer: …
Him: …
Bouncer: ???
Him: I had back surgery and I shrunk…
Bouncer: Any ID to back it up?
He leaves, embarrassed.

This week’s Wall of Shame…

Tuesday, 6:30 pm: “She had one VERY SMALL rolling bag and she got off on floor 3…”

Tuesday, 9:53 pm: “Some guy just exploded a 2-liter bottle of pop all over 210. Residents of the room unsure what to do at first. Still all over the ground, but everyone has gone back to their own business. It’s hard to faze the Butlerite.”

Wednesday: 10:09 am, Hamilton: “You almost gleefully skipped out of the elevator on 3.”

Thursday, 4:11 pm, Kent: “You didn’t look surprised that floor 4 was only one flight above where you got on.”

Friday, 11:46 pm: “I asked someone at Penn State what they were gonna be for Halloween and he said ‘drunk.’”

Saturday, 1:48 am: “It maybe be 1:47 am, but you didn’t even look a little bit apologetic about taking the elevator from floor 3 to floor 5.”

Sunday, 8:08 pm: “somehow, the elevator stopped. On every. Floor. Of Butler.”

Finally, your anonymous-tip-form story of the weekend:

“It turns out that you (especially if you are a fairly small female) can get drunk, to the point that the floor is a tricky bastard and your tongue feels numb, off of utterly gross $3 wine at a party. For those unaware of the low alcohol content of shitty wine allow me to proffer an illuminating point: it takes a prodigious amount of wine to get very drunk. Not buzzed. Furthermore, imagine how your stomach might feel if its squishy, acidic domain were invaded by the amount of wine Le Moi drank. Case in point, crashing and vomiting are not fun, enjoyable, or amusing. Keep on the sunny side, though. I now know how much wine will make me sick and I didn’t get CAVA’ed. Yay, me!”