1020 on a Saturday night

This evening, Bwog received a tip that is unusual both for its length (long) and its topic (love).

In it, Robert (not his real name) goes to 1020, meets two girls named Kristine and Kristine (not their real names) and falls in love with one of them. Upon her leaving, he asks her to meet him at Alma at dawn, where he’ll be waiting. She does not show. It is a hard read, no matter which way you approach it. But for the names, which have been changed, the tip is unedited.

Read on for social anxiety, a booth, coconut water, David Foster Wallace, and a very long night.

To: tips@bwog.com
From: robert@gmail.com
Subject: (minor edit, read this one) I need your guys’ help in trying to find the girl I fell in love with (last night at 1020)

Dear Bwog,

I need your guys’ help in trying to find the girl I fell in love with (last night at 1020)

Yes, I’m serious. Yes, I said love. I also know that you laughed at the (last night at 1020) bit in the subject, but I can tell you with all my heart, that doesn’t matter. You can’t control where it happens.

I swear to God, all of this happened.

All I know about her is that her name is Kristine.

If you want to see why you should help me let me tell you the story:

The all seeing eye

After a hiatus both shorter and less devastating than that of Community, Dear Bwog is back. If you have any conundra Columbiana that you want us to take a smack at, email them in to tips@bwog.com.

Dear Bwog,

I just ran into my TA, stark naked, leaving the Dodge showers. I still had my towel on. At the time it wasn’t weird, and we just sorta automatically smiled and said hello in passing. After the fact, it’s a little weird. What do I do?

Frantically,
Perplexed Penis Peeker

Bwog ponders this, after the jump.

This type of vibrating PDA is, however, more than welcome.

Dear Bwog returns once again to help you solve your collegiate quandaries. We’ve taken on the Hellevator, and the delirious cram sesh. Below, Bubbe Bwog answers another pressing question: Are you just sleepy and bitter, or is there a line one (two) can cross as a Butler couple? And yes, these are real emails tipped to Bwog. Share your own snafus with tips@bwog.com, and we’ll offer some humble weblog wisdom.

Dear Bwog,

I just wanted to notify you, and everyone else, that there is a heinously o-so-in-love couple in the Butler lounge near the Café entrance (freshman, no doubt) who have been making out, groping, and dry humping on our precious arm chairs for a good three hours now. I would have photographed these gems, but why would I want to make everyone vomit, as I have just done? Keep an eye out for a girl in a black t-shirt and jeans and boy with a tight jew fro.

THESE TWO MEAN TROUBLE.

Best,
Anti-Chunder Patrol

Get your fill of PDA wisdom after the jump.

Bwog really and truly received this email from a curious freshperson.

Dear Bwog,

I’m new here, CC ’15, and I was wondering whether it is normal that there is a stench in Butler’s 4th floor near the elevators so terrible it is as if the books themselves have died and now reek of rottingbook flesh. If this is not normal, then my tip is that the 4th floor of Butler, near the elevators, smells so terrible that it is as if the books themselves have died and now reek of rotting book flesh.

Indeed, dear freshling, ’tis true. The Milstein Reading room persistently reeks. Facilities assured us they have investigated the strange smell to no avail. Conspiracy theories abound. We’ve heard the stench described as vomit-like and sulfuric, but hats off to you for your ingenious graphic account, and for making upperclassmen feel old and weirdly nostalgic.

A common arrangement of the "B" suite

Survey your Carman double. Don’t let the stark cinder block and linoleum faze you—soon you too can cover your walls with cool kitsch. But in case you are daunted by all that space, or any other first-time conundrums, Bwog will answer your questions. We’re here to help, so ask away via tips@bwog.com.

Dear Bwog,

What’s the best way to arrange my Carman double? I want room to imbibe with the bros, but also a warm, livable space in which I’d be happy studying, snuggling, or sighing while looking out the window.

Sincerely,
Confused Carmanite

(more…)

Behold your dorm room. It’s—It’s—It’s—nice?? Don’t be too disappointed. You’ll stain it too and make it your own. (Fun fact: JJ11 has a tainted legacy. One past resident drunkenly shat on the floor.) Anywho, college may be your first time living on your own, so you probably have some questions. We’re here to help. In times of trouble, Bwog will be your proverbial Jewish Granny, feeding you sage wisdom and literally telling you where to find free food. Inquisitive freshpeople, send your questions to tips@bwog.com.

Dear Bwog,

How should I configure my John Jay room to maximize space and look purdy?

Sincerely,
Befuddled in the Bedroom

Dear Befuddled,

Your new JJ pad presents two options. First, you could position your bed against the window. This will open up your room, making it seem less like a narrow cell. However, you will lose about a foot of space. John Jay rooms have these awkward protruding corners that prevent the bed from lying flush against the back wall. But, this newly created gap between the window and your bed is not completely useless: it accommodates a narrow nightstand.

Another option is to arrange your bed against the right or left wall. Don’t put your bed under wall with shelves. “But I won’t hit my head,” you say. “And it’s partially hidden behind the closet diminishing the visual weight of the bed itself”…or maybe you don’t say that. The point is if you’re lucky enough to have someone else in your bed, he/ she will hit his/her head. So for the good of your one-night stand, don’t put your bed against the wall with shelves.

Go configure your crib!

Love,
Bwog

Dear Bwog is back! But we’re changin’ it up a little this time. First you’ll hear from Bwog’s self-proclaimed ”decent heterosexual male Suzy May.” Then, one of our Bwoggals weighs in. Bwog…we have a split personality! Send in your own trials and tribulations to tips@bwog.com.

Dear Bwog,

My T.A. just asked me out via e-mail:

Hope the exam went well for you on Monday. I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee sometime?

See you soon,
xxxx

What should I do?!

Sincerely,
Titillated at Teacher’s College

(more…)

Dear Bwog is back! But we’re changin’ it up a little this time. First you’ll hear from Bwog’s self-proclaimed ”decent heterosexual male Suzy May.” Then, one of our female Bwoggers gives her impassioned response. Bwog…we have a split personality!

Dear Bwog,

I sometimes think my boyfriend might be gay. He’s an amazing guy and, yes, while do have sex, really good sex, I sometimes do get “that vibe” off him. We recently talked about fantasies and he said that he was open to a threesome with another guy. But we were both tipsy when this was discussed and it hasn’t been brought up since. Is that weird? Could he be gay? Should I just point blank ask him?

Sincerely,
Suspicious in Schermerhorn
(more…)

Never fear, Columbians. Dear Bwog has returned once again to help you solve your collegiate quandaries. This week, our favorite “heterosexual male Suzy May” tackles one of the tougher issues of college dating—what to do when the one you “love” is fading you out.

Dear Bwog,

After what I thought were three successful dates, this guy I thought really liked me started to cool down very quickly. No concrete plans, evasive texts, (“super busy”), even though the semester had barely begun, etc. I haven’t heard from him for two weeks now and having inquired, I know he’s not dating anyone new. I don’t want to push this or seem psycho, but I’m genuinely confused about what happened here. What’s wrong with guys?!

Sincerely,

Confuzzled in Furnald

(more…)

Hi all,

Over the past week, we’ve been flooded with personals submissions and nominations. Love is in the air…or somewhere. Anyways, we’ve really enjoyed playing cupid, but now it’s time to put down the bow and arrow. Personals get kinda boring after a while, and we can’t afford to keep shelling out $10.

All is not lost! You guys obviously want to go out with people, so DO IT. As it turns out, some chill people actually go here, and being such a negative-Nancy will only leave you alone in your single. And while Bwog won’t continue to do all the hard work, we’ll do the best we can to keep you stimulated.

You may remember that every once in a while, Bwog publishes explicit erotic content. We’d like you to help us continue this endeavor, so after you get some, tell us about it. Or just use your imagination. Either way, you can submit your silliest, strangest and sexiest to BwogSex. Through this anonymous form, no one can possibly know your identity.

Be safe, kids! FYI, this was spotted at Rite Aid

Then again, if risqué reportage is not your style, no worries. Always original and eminently reliable, Fox News got the inside scoop on Columbia hookup culture. Apparently it’s this new thing… As one anchor pithily puts it: “you go to a party, you drink a little bit, you see something you like.”

Still, it’s not always that easy. Love is blind, forsaken, and unrequited. Love, friends, is a battlefield. So send us your Dear Bwog questions, and our Love Sergeant, a self-described “decent heterosexual male Suzy May,” will offer his words of wisdom.

And just like that, we attempted to tactfully tell y’all that we’re no longer setting you guys up, that you should do it yourself instead, and that you can share your problems and sex stories with us. Aren’t we so classy…

Dear Bwog is back! This time around, the mysteries of weblog wisdom are incarnate in our self-described “decent heterosexual male Suzy May.” He’s fresh out of the awkward breaking-up-with-someone-near-Valentines-Day dilemma, falling for a girlfriend’s roommate, and dealing with everything from a ‘devil’s threesome’ offer to college ACB namedrops. Below, he dispenses words of wisdom on the much maligned topic of facebook stalking….

Dear Bwog,

I think I might be sort of obsessed with this one guy friend of mine. I know he isn’t romantically interested in me but I still can’t help but check his Facebook page every time I log on—which is a lot. I’ve signed up for a class I have NO interest in this semester just to be with him twice a week and always try to make sure that we walk out together even if my next class is in the same building lol. Is this stalking? I haven’t told anyone because I’m embarrassed. I know it’s unhealthy but I just like being near him haha.

Faithfully his,

Glenn Close understudy

(more…)

This week brought a doozy of dramatic distractions. Then the sky cried, and Bwog stepped in a puddle of tears. So, we dug up this installment of Dear Bwog from the archives.

Dear Bwog,

The following is my stream of consciousness while trying to write a paper in 209:

Curse you cursor, mocking my mindlessness and blinking before my blank screen! That grad student sitting across from me is revealing a little too much chest hair. When did unbuttoning the top three buttons become acceptable? Now he’s twirling his pen. He’s got skills. Damn, I wish I could twirl a pen like that… The powers that be should create stilts to prop open eyelids… I have to fart… Whatever happened to Ja Rule …and Legends of the Hidden Temple?

Here’s the deal: I have a ton of shit to do. Out of nowhere, I was hit with a boatload of work. Wanna do it for me?

Sincerely,

Seriously screwed.

(more…)

Olmec, so says Wikimedia

Dear Bwog,

The following is my stream of consciousness while trying to write a paper in 209:

Curse you cursor, mocking my mindlessness and blinking before my blank screen! That grad student sitting across from me is revealing a little too much chest hair. When did unbuttoning the top three buttons become acceptable? Now he’s twirling his pen. He’s got skills. Damn, I wish I could twirl a pen like that… The powers that be should create stilts to prop open eyelids… I have to fart… Whatever happened to Ja Rule …and Legends of the Hidden Temple?

So I’m no Virginia Woolf, but here’s the deal: I have a ton of shit to do. Out of nowhere, I was hit with a boatload of work. Wanna do it for me?

Sincerely,

Seriously screwed.

Dear Seriously Screwed,

First things first, people don’t go to Butler 209 to study; they go to be seen studying. And you have things to do, so leave now. While you’re ascending the Butler steps, stare up into the knowing eyes of Butler himself. He made it, and so can you, my friend.

Now don’t go sitting next to someone hot. You may think that sitting across from someone attractive will make you want to look studious and therefore you will be studious. But you are wrong.

Find a space? Good. Now, we could tell you to load up on caffeine and crank it out, but that wouldn’t be too inspirational. Instead, take 5 minutes to go outside and walk briskly around that narrow grassy knoll between the two lawns. Just do it. You deserve it, pal.

So now you’re back in your seat. Devote the next 15 minutes to writing whatever random ideas you’ve got bobbing around that insightful brain of yours. Ellipses are your friend; you’re not engraving this anywhere. Just type like you’re taking one of those Words Per Minute tests—the ones you sometimes use to procrastinate, except now you’re actually working.

Wow, look at that! You have some words on a page. Kudos! Now print out your jumbled jargon and grab a writing utensil. Sometimes it’s really fun to write with a colorful pen. Why assault your precious retinas with grading-pen red when you can opt for sea-foam blue? Draw lines and squiggles to start connecting and organizing your ideas. Now you have a rough outline. You’re such a champ!

Don’t forget that you go to Columbia. And that’s pretty fucking cool. Remember back in the day when you first saw Butler and thought, “I’m going to think big things in there.” Or maybe you didn’t think that. Anywho, momentous contemplation went down right here. According to Aristotle, that should be pretty pleasurable. So, throw yourself into your thoughts the way all those happy philosophers did.

Love,

Bwog

P.S. Adderall is for pussies.

Photo via Wikimedia Commons

Dear Bwog,

Before I came to Columbia, I never realized how awkward elevator rides are. I usually just start fake texting to avoid eye contact, but is that bitchy?

~Awkward McAwkward

Dear Awkward McAwkward,

Yeah, elevators are mad awkward; you’re confined to a 20-square-foot box. Still, you don’t want to move your lazy ass up the stairs, right? If only there were some sort of ‘vator vortex to prevent sweaty/mysteriously slimy people from getting all up in your space. But alas, this is the plight of the Hellevator. Worse than the sardine-can-squish is the painful pairing—when you’re stuck in an elevator with only one other person. Even so, that’s no reason to be a Bitch and a half.

In her Senior Wisdom, Sari Ancel, SEAS ’10, presented a fantastic friendship formula: Stop and Chat > Wave Hello > Awkward Ignore. “Awkwardly ignoring someone you know [or recently met] is not only super mean, but also not worth the effort of pretending not to know them.” It’s common decency, folks.

Fake fiddling with your phone is just rude. An elevator isn’t necessarily the ideal location to share your deepest darkest secrets with a stranger. Still, there’s nothing wrong with cracking a sweet smile. Don’t go overboard though; a full toothy grin is creepy. Instead, try for the cute Jim Halpert-esque half-smile. And you never know, maybe you’ll make a friend. Bwog remembers a simple smile exchange evolving into a semi-friendship. After said smiles, Bwog’s elevator-mate extended his hand and introduced himself. How classy.

Remember kids, eye contact is sexy! (more…)

Duh

Dear Bwog,

I don’t mean to sound obnoxious, but people here aren’t as cultured as I expected. No one shares my music taste or gets my quirky brand of humor. It’s not that I’m so sophisticated or anything; there’s just some basic knowledge I assumed people had.

I guess I just haven’t met people on my wavelength. Classes already started, and I still haven’t found my crew.

~Crewzing

Dear Crewzing,

There’s no need so shocked when someone hasn’t heard of that semi-obscure band you worship. The patronizing question, “You really haven’t heard of Prezbo and the Deans*?” makes people feel uncomfortable–especially when combined with the toxic eyebrow raise. Of course, displays of superiority aren’t limited to music. If you dumped out the contents of 2014’s brains, you could reassemble and compile a comprehensive encyclopedia. In other words, Fourteen-ers, you know your shit. Kudos, but Columbia’s contained campus doesn’t have a lot of space for people mounted on high horses. That nice guy from the Great Plains may not be familiar with some Dadaist art exhibit downtown, but he definitely knows a few things you don’t. And don’t be so surprised when that soft-spoken preppy girl down the hall actually has fantastic music taste. Friends come in all shapes, sizes and styles.

Now that that’s out of our system, let’s talk timelines. Your buddies during the first week of college won’t necessarily be your go-to-crew for the next four years. Sometimes, months pass before you meet people you feel like you really mesh with. And that’s totally fine. There are 7,169 undergraduates here. You’ll find someone.

Obviously people are drawn to Columbia for its academic opportunities, but you have a solid five weeks before you even need to think about midterms. Soak up the sweet sun of September and put off problem sets for parties. Marvel at your classmates; you may end up marrying one of them. But actually. If all else fails, you live in the greatest city in the world.

Much Love,
Bwog

* Bwog’s dream band name. It’s like Diana Ross and the Supremes, but not.  Plus, Diana and Prezbo both have great hair.