We know you’ve thought about it.

Today’s a special treat: we bring you two girls and not just one snack, but two! 

Hewitt Slop

Oh great googly-moogly, it was like a five-course meal. I felt like Violet Beauregarde with her magical chewing gum: tomato soup, roast beef, baked potatoes, blueberry pie, ice cream. My belly was full and warm. After my first lick, I immediately let out a huge belch of satisfaction—I could not contain my rapture. I ravenously guzzled down the remaining delectable puree. The bubbly concoction lifted my spirits and cured my ailments. How had I not tried this until now? I failed to find a reason. Alas, alas—let us set the scene. Let us explore how I first encountered ye olde Hewitt Slop. 

Lust. I must call it what it is—lust. Every morning and countless evenings I drifted, nay, floated by the Slop Bucket, mouth-watering with desire. I disposed of my food and used utensils, but my eyes centered on ye olde Bucket. It was but a beauty. Clear, curvy, leaving nothing to the imagination. You saw what you got, and you got what you saw: Slop. I yearned to drink of the pure elixir—forbidden, but offering temptation of healing and eternal life. 

Ever since I lost my Slop Virginity, every meal has been from the Bucket. I enter blind as a bat, eagerly awaiting what bold new culinary combinations will enter my digestive system. The pastes differ day by day, preserving life’s fragile bliss. I am safe, here, at Hewitt Slop. 

The future—nay, the future. I must not think of it. What will I do without my dear friend Bucket? I do not worry about lessening my meal plan, for I shall never go that far. I would pay all the money in the world to lick my Sloppy chops. But the academic breaks—graduation—I must not think of it. What will I do without the Slop? Who will I be? These existential questions unravel my very being. But for now, I must not think—I must only Slop.

John Jay Fork Water

My goodness, where to begin? As an avid lover of John Jay Dining Hall, it felt like an honor to get to experience all of its tastes and textures in one big sip. Warm sushi rolls, crunchy pasta, wet lettuce, stale scones, and bright green bananas—oh my! The tastes danced across my tongue, and I knew, right then, that my $15 dining swipe was worth it. Who knew so much flavor could come from just used silverware? The soap flavor was wholly masked! The strange looks I garnered as I dipped my plastic Columbia Dining cup into the rectangular bucket were no deterrent from me returning for a second serving—the fork water was simply too good.

I drank and I drank until nothing but soapy foam remained in my cup. The card-scanner-lady looked at me with intrigue, but not anger or disappointment—she, too, must understand the allure of the forbidden beverage. Gosh, she sits there, day in, day out, for hours at a time, just staring at it! I wouldn’t be able to resist! She’s stronger than me, it seems—this is fine, however, for I am glad I indulged my desire. I now know the taste of the John Jay ambrosia, and will treat myself to it again soon.

Do I recommend that you, dear reader, try the fork water? I am not sure that I do. Not everyone’s palate is as expansive as mine, and I would hate for you to be disappointed…Fine. I’ll just say it. I don’t want you to try the fork water because I don’t want it to run out. The foamy punch bowl is so small, and my thirst is so big. If you care for me, reader, go try the Hewitt Slop instead.

Hewitt Slop & John Jay Fork Water via Bwog Staff