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teach for america in the ocean state
tv upfront food books Michael Scott Off Meal-Plan Summer Reading “A” for Athletes
FROM THE EDITORS
Editor-in-Chief Kate Doyle Managing Editor of Features Amelia Stanton Managing Editor of Arts & Culture Sam Knowles Managing Editor of Lifestyle Matthew Klebanoff Features Editors Ana Alvarez Fred Milgrim Charles Pfletcher Music Editor Eric Sun Theatre Editor Emma Johnson Film Editor Priyanka Chatterjee Literary Editor Jennie Young Carr Lifestyle Editor Sakina Esufally Layout Editors Clara Beyer Lucas Huh Hero of the Hour Lucas Huh Graphics Editors Emily Oliveira Copy Chiefs Julia Kantor Kathy Nguyen Web Editors Michael Enriquez Ellora Vilkin Columnists Jane Brendlinger Rémy Robert Sexicon Lovecraft & Dorian Emily PostCopy Editors Kate Brennan Jacob Combs Christina McCausland Justine Palefsky Kristina Petersen Charles Pletcher Ash Sofman Staff Writers Clayton Aldern Ella Evans Lily Goodspeed Berit Goetz Gopika Krishna Emily Spinner Staff Illustrators Anish Gonchigar Phil Lai Carolyn Shasha Caroline Washburn Kelly Winter Ethan Zisson
“A” FOR ATHLETES \\ charles pletcher POST- IT NOTES \\ post- staff
Let me try and begin to explain. First, there’s the idiom dictionary, for which Matt has this endearing affinity. Then there’s the word “etiquette,” a word we gently persist in teaching Clara to spell, and Fred’s headlines, which we inevitably scrap at the eleventh hour. (“Unbelievable!”) Then there’s New Guy being “weirdly bold,” spates of Postparties, not to mention broad generalizations (“Women at Brown are SO TALL”) and infamous legends of old (“I went to the Post Office, but I was supposed to go to the Post- office!”). There are, of course, absurd late-night suggestions (“rugby?”) and valiant late-night heroics of the hour (see: Lucas), and the inevitable late-night realizations that we’re never, ever going to make it to Jo’s. There are WiFi wars, half-price pastries, booze runs, garlic popcorn, the Inception button, a befuddling white board and its companionate marker, and—of course—the day we go to press. (That’s Friday, right?) It’s a tradition of the old “last note” to extend thanks where thanks are most due, and these, above all, must go to this semester’s uncannily sharp and wonderful staff—great friends with whom I’ve had the good fortunate to pass a final string of Post- Wednesdays. A wellwishing tip of the hat to Amelia and Sam, next up at bat—and a nostalgic nod to my fellow senior-most staff members Fred and Matt, with whom the fun began. Most of all, here’s to the wit and camaraderie this place stands for, to those who have come before and to those who will follow—a glass raised (on the job, of course) to good friends and the magazine that holds us all together. It’s been grand. Signing off,
CHARTING A NEW RHODE \\ alexsis trearchis
05 arts & culture 06 arts & culture
ON THE PROWL \\ music staff REQUIRED READING \\ sophie seawell SEX IN FRONT OF MY PROFESSOR AND 18 PEERS \\ emma johnson “THERE’S NO EASY WAY TO SAY THIS, SO I’LL DRAG IT OUT” \\ priyanka chatterjee ME JANE. YOU FOOD. \\ jane brendingler AN INCONVENIENT BREW \\ tory elmore
07 food & booze
08 sex & etiquette
MISCONSTRUATION \\ mm MASTERING YOUR ‘BATION FANTASIES \\ lovecraft & dorian EMILY POST- \\ emily post-
Ladies and Gentlemen, friends and alumni, presenting an organization that wants YOU to be on the Main Green at 11:50 today, it’s the Brown University “stealth attack!!!” BAAAAANNNNDDDDDD! Thank you!
Post- Magazine is published every Thursday in the Brown Daily Herald. It covers books, theater, music, film, food, art, and University culture around College Hill. Post- editors can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org. Letters are always welcome, and can be either e-mailed or sent to Post- Magazine, 195 Angell Street, Providence, RI 02906. We claim the right to edit letters for style, clarity, and length.
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WORD!WIDEWEB: SPRING SHOW Rites & Reasons Theatre l Fri, Sat. 8pm, Sun 3pm
A DATE WITH THE MATES: A BROWN’STONES CONCERT Kassar House l Sat. 9pm
BRIO PRESENTS: ODYSSEY Pembroke Field House l Sat. 10pm
SHAKESPEARE ON THE GREEN: OTHELLO Faunce Steps, Petteruti (Sat)l Thurs-Sun 8pm
MEZCLA PRESENTS: LUCID DREAMING Salomon 101 l Sat, Sun 8pm
Post- says goodbye to three of its finest, down to their skivvies in our downstairs dungeon. From left: Priyanka Chatterjee, Kate Doyle, and Fred Milgrim.
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TOP TEN Plagues to Descend upon Brown this Passover Season
Diddy Dirty Money and the BCA. We jest, but not really. Herpes. That sh*t puts boils to shame. Preregistration ... and the dawning realization graduation looms. Hella dank cloud hovering above the Main Green. LaRouche activists.
THURSDAY, APRIL 21, 2011
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Staying in on Wednesdays AND Thursdays. Water will be changed into Berge. The fish in the Nile will die, and the river will stink—the Egyptians will not be able to drink its water. Envy for those lucky mofos with their stupid Easter egs and nonrestricted diets. Swarms of prefrosh. We’re excited for you, but we’ve got sh*t to do, and you won’t get out of the way. Passover. Bread is f*cking awesome.
what we’re doing this week
mourning the loss of Gerard Smith, bassist of TV on the Radio (this year’s Spring Weekend headliner) to lung cancer.
“A” for Athletes
charles PLETCHER features editor
On March 9, The Stanford Daily published an article (later picked up by The San Francisco Chronicle) entitled “Stanford athletes had access to list of ‘easy’ courses.” This list is written in Comic Sans. It features only introductory classes organized by time slot—“Stanford officials said the list was designed to accommodate athletes’ demanding schedules.” And its classes were notoriously easy, according to the research of no fewer than 16 reporters. What were these reporters hoping to achieve besides the mere denigration of Stanford athletics? A comment on The Stanford Review Blog puts it, “The Daily just sold out Stanford football for 20 pieces of silver.” Perhaps at Brown we understand that Comic Sans never works, but do we still betray our athletes? What place does athletics hold in the life of Brown? Is there a class of athletes who purvey entertainment and can’t excel in any but the easiest disciplines? Here on the East Coast, Brunonians enjoy a good Ivy League rivalry as much as the next group of WASPs (“Harvard Small Dicks,” anyone?). But we also hurl our share of criticism towards athletes and athletics in general (“Why the athletics department is bad for Brown,” The Herald, December 1, 2010). Athletes at Brown don’t form a neat category, even if you only look at those concentrating in COE. Athlete COE stereotypes could just as well apply to non-athletes in the concentration (yes, non-athletes can concentrate in COE). Notwithstanding modicums of truth in these stereotypes, generalizations break down hard and fast. (That statement is a generalization that you should feel free to break down, but know that I have a rebuttal for your counter-example.) Moreover, the value of athletics has often been seen only in terms of what it can do for us—for our community, our “school spirit,” so to
brains and brawn at brown
speak—which grossly understates the matter. Sarah Domenick ’14, a recruited member of the women’s squash team, mentioned that athletes must meet the same academic standards for admission as other Brown students. “In general, I think athletics aren’t a huge priority here. The average of our athletes’ academic indexes is much higher here [than at peer institutions], so it’s actually harder to recruit athletes,” she added. The converse of that statement naturally comes to mind: It would be easier to recruit athletes if we adopted lower academic standards. But we’ll leave that issue aside for the time being and ask, rather, where our stereotypes come from. Domenick opined that part of the problem might stem from athletes keeping to themselves. “If you don’t know athletes,” she said, “it’s easy to generalize.” Who hasn’t spotted a cadre of athletes at the V-Dub after practice and decried the perceived inanities of their conversation? But let’s make one thing clear: Athletes aren’t dumber than nonathletes. The rigor of their dinner table conversation has no bearing on their intellectual ability. According to most athletes, their sports participation enriches their academic experience. Dori Rahbar ’14 (also a member of the squash team) mentioned, “I worked so much better in season.” She added, joking, “Now that I’m out of season, I don’t know what to do with my time.” We’ve all pined for the structure of an athlete’s day: the clear delineation of work and leisure, the demands and motivation of team participation. But athletics, more than simply impose structure, also correlate with improved academic performance, according to a 2002 study by Stephens & Schober. So the next time you wonder how that lacrosse player performed better than you on your psych midterm, perhaps consider asking if you can join him or her on a morning run. More importantly, the athletics and academics debate seems to involve everyone’s favorite type of dichotomy—a false one. We must exercise caution in asserting any relationship between athletic and academic aptitude. If anything, we can assert that the debate centers on the broad issue of prioritization: How do athletes choose to spend their time? Non-athletes? And, again, what priorities and expectations does the administration impose (recall the Stanford Comic Sans class list)? And the debate will continue unresolved as long as we view athletics and academics as anything other than complementary. I’m not simply arguing that community building and competition are good for us as well rounded individuals—whatever that means. Ultimately, we need to wipe the smug look off of academia’s face and reevaluate the sorely underestimated merit of athletics. At the very least, we need to begin considering the possibility of a mutually beneficial relationship between schoolwork and workouts. Rather than simply boost our perceptions of the merit of athletics, we should consider the ability of athletics to boost academic and social performance in measurable ways. I don’t mean simply boosted test scores and the vocational applications of working on a team—although those certainly count as benefits. I mean considering athletic participation as an essential component of the political animals we are. Reading Nietzsche, identifying amines at sight, and dunking from outside the key are not mutually exclusive. Stop touting specialization. Read a book—and go for a run.
shrugging about the Three Cups of Tea scandal. Fictionalized memoirs are so last year.
putting on a slutty tank to greet James Franco at the Granoff Center tomorrow. Get your tickets! Wait, there are no tickets...
drinking beer on a Georgetown stoop in preparation for Aaron Sorkin’s visit to the Ivy League Film Festival. God bless America! And West Wing!
celebrating being a fiercely, independent, empowered woman with a Vagina at the Monologues this weekend.
crossing its fingers in the hope that today’s special Ratty dinner is Pesachfriendly. Chef Jody Adams ‘79 designed the menu—so maybe?
celebrating the arrival of sunshine with Skittle Bombs. Drop a shot of Cointreau into a glass of Red Bull and skull. Boom, baby!
Charting a New Rhode
ternational Relations concentrator who was accepted into TFA under the first August deadline. In response to Appleman’s claims, she provided a scathingly appropriate counter-argument: “Wake up Deborah Appleman, there are plenty of unqualified teachers teaching already. There are plenty of idiots teaching. There are plenty of uncredentialed morons in classrooms as I write this. When I went to take my credentialing exam, one girl told me she’d been teaching for three years and failed the exam four times. Um … what? At least TFA members are required to be credentialed, want to be in the classroom, and receive training.” Figueroa-Santana also offered a telling statistic: “60 percent of corps members stay in their schools beyond their two-year commitment.” This means that TFA corps members have something that (in my humble experience) is lacking in many public school classrooms: passion. When I was substitute teaching during my semester off, I worked with students from preschool to third grade in the public schools of my New Hampshire hometown. As someone who previously had no desire to ever leave the world of academia, I came to understand why teaching is constantly described as exciting, challenging, and fulfilling. Having gone through the public school system myself, I felt the frustration of my students, some of whom chomped at the bit over slow curriculums, while others felt the dismay of being left behind when impending state tests dictated that syllabi move on. There is one incident from my short stint as a substitute teacher that I will never forget. During an interactive story time with preschoolers, I invited a particularly shy girl to read to the class. When she refused, the teaching assistant in the room leaned over to me and said, “She never talks. Don’t bother with her.” This example proves that TFA members can do nothing but good in the classroom. How great can an experienced teaching professional, like the woman I was working with, actually be if she has no interest in her job, no interest in her students, and no passion for
teach for america in the ocean state
alexis TREARCHIS contributing writer
There’s been a lot of enthusiastic talk lately about Brown’s growing relationship with Teach for America. As an English concentrator who has worked as a substitute teacher in the New Hampshire public school system and as a volunteer teaching assistant in Hartford, I am proud of my fellow Brunonians who have made it through TFA’s rigorous application process and who are ready to dedicate years of their lives to the betterment of our nation’s kids. It’s even more exciting to know that some of our own have been placed in TFA’s new Rhode Island program, especially when the state’s education system is in such turmoil. When considering Brown’s relationship to TFA, the statistics speak for themselves. Sidnie Davis, the Recruitment Director of the Boston Recruitment Team for Teach for America, said, “Many Brown students have lots of avenues open to them after their time at college, and I want to make sure that they count TFA among them.” Clearly, we are doing just that. Davis continued, “This year 12 percent of the senior class applied to join the 72 current corps members who are teaching in one of TFA’s 39 regions. Another 215 Brown grads are among TFA’s 20,000 alumni. Last year, Brown was among the universities contributing the largest number of graduating seniors with 38 graduates joining the corps.” In Rhode Island, it’s impossible not to consider TFA in terms of the state’s current education and financial crisis. “Teach For America is excited to have launched a teaching corps in Rhode Island this school year,” Davis said. “30 corps members are currently teaching in Rhode Island schools, reaching nearly 2,000 students. There is growing evidence that the most important factor to student achievement is a great classroom teacher and that any achievement gap that exists can be erased with 3 consecutive high-quality teachers for 3 years.” Unfortunately, across the country, not everybody is so enthusiastic about the program. Deborah Appleman, an educational studies professor at Carlton College, sees an aggravating elitism inherent in TFA’s goals. While considering the introduction of a TFA corps in Minnesota in 2009, Appleman said, “There is a way in which this is really classist and elitist. Somebody who is smart and went to college at a good school is going to be able to be with kids. And they just need to dedicate a couple years. TFA is a sort of résumé-building on the back of black and brown kids.” As a professor at a liberal arts college, Appleman seems as removed from the realities of public education as the dedicated corps members she discounts. While a 1997 Stanford University study claims that TFA’s preparatory program does not adequately prepare corps members for the classroom, there is other data that supports the TFA curriculum. In 2004, Mathematica Policy Research, Inc. determined that students taught by TFA participants “make 10 percent more progress in a year in math than is typically expected, while slightly exceeding the normal expectation for progress in reading.” Similarly, in 2007, The Urban Institute of North Carolina found TFA teachers to be “more effective, as measured by student exam performance, than traditional teachers.” TFA includes these studies in its literature in order to defend itself against critics like Appleman. It’s my opinion that the best defense for TFA lies in its offense: that is, the recruited and accepted members who have decided to dedicate themselves to the program. Meet Bianca Figueroa-Santana ’11, an Inher work? TFA recruiter Sidnie Davis has also had experiences throughout her career that proved what an involved teacher can bring to the classroom: “I served in the corps first right after I graduated from college, teaching fifth graders in the community where I grew up … I was absolutely thrilled to see my students improve by leaps and bounds when they were held to high expectations and when we all worked extraordinarily hard. My students raised their reading levels by an average of 2.4 years in one year and we studied really interesting ideas together—I taught everything from Plato’s Allegory of the Cave to the dissection of cow hearts to my kids and found them able to grasp this spectrum of challenging ideas.” Davis is the perfect example of how passion and imagination are invaluable to teaching professionals: “The thing I liked best about Teach For America is that you are only limited in how much you can achieve by your own creativity, time, and effort, and I was willing to give a lot of each to my students—and they gave a lot back.” Students join TFA because they want to, because, like Bianca Figueroa-Santana, they’ve prepared vigorously for the experience and are fully committed to undertake the role of a teacher. Figueroa-Santana has already taught French, English, cellular biology, and genetics; she declared teaching to be “the most rewarding experience” of her life. She knows “that teaching is incredibly hard and very demanding.” She continued, “If you think investment bankers work long hours, become a first-year teacher. You will eat, piss, and breathe teaching for at least 80 hours a week.” Figueora-Santana expects to be successful as a new corps member in San Francisco. When asked about her experience being placed in the city, she said “it’s been super easy … because I have ‘hard to staff skills’ (i.e. speaking Spanish fluently).” She has spent time preparing for interviews for both middle and elementary school positions, and is hopeful for positive results. Regrettably, finding placement is not guaranteed for all accepted TFA corps members. Brown students who’ve just been placed in Rhode Island may not have the same success in finding positions that Figueora-Santana expects—some of these students are even rumored to be looking for alternative jobs. It’s unfortunate that any teacher could be denied work as a result of the present public education crisis in Rhode Island, and it is especially lamentable that talented, passionate, new TFA recruits may not be permitted to impart their knowledge on our state’s underprivileged youth. If Deborah Appleman were to walk on to our campus and talk to Bianca, with her undeniable experience, useful skills, and fervor for teaching, would she still be able to confidently discredit the program? Figueora-Santana, and other Brown students like her, apply to become TFA corps members for the same reasons they applied to our singular university in the first place: because they are passionate, curious, hardworking individuals who want to make a difference. Brown offers us four amazing years of undergraduate study to explore these traits. Teach for America is a way to further immerse ourselves in a difficult and worthwhile venture. Considering Rhode Island’s current education and budget crisis, it is not only the teachers who are being wronged—the students are losing out, too, and so are our fellow students who may lose the opportunity to bring their passion to Rhode Island classrooms.
THURSDAY, APRIL 21, 2011
arts & culture
post-’s guide to getting your music sh*t together
With a desolate stretch of Post-less weeks ahead, the music staff has kindly deigned to help you satiate your unquenchable thirst for new, wonderful music. After sharing in our vast musical wisdom, you will be discovering delicious morsels of aural ecstasy in no time. Blogs The music blog experience is an individual, soul-searching pilgrimage. Each blog caters to a certain musical genre and writing style, so you have to hunker down and find the blog senseis that speak to you. Set aside a few hours of procrastination to probe the uncharted blogosphere abyss—start with “I Guess I’m Floating” or “My Old Kentucky Blog” and circle out from there. Music blog aggregators like Hypem.com, Elbo.ws and CaptainCrawl. com help out by providing quick, comprehensive overviews of genre releases and highlights. Hype Machine is the ultimate hepcat secret weapon. If you’re behind on the buzz-bands of the moment, just hit the “Popular” tab. —L.G. Reviews Critics tend to get a bad rap. They sometimes torch the best artists and shine glowing praise on duds. But despite their occasional mistakes, they provide an invaluable service, sifting through the veritable mountain of crappy music in the world and bringing the few golden nuggets to our attention. Flipping through magazines like Rolling Stone, Spin, or Paste Magazine will lead to new discoveries. Online, Pitchfork. com has become the preeminent voice on all things indie, and their “Best New Music” segments are usually excellent fodder for musical exploration. Meanwhile, Metacritic.com compiles reviews from dozens of sources into one score— anything above an 80 is definitely worth a listen. Finally, “Best of the Year” lists released by all music sites and publications are treasure troves of kick-ass new music. By scanning through past years’ lists, you’ll be sure to find some musical booty. —E.S. Radio Many of you probably think that radio offers nothing more than talk shows, Top 40 hits, and classic rock stations a little heavy on the “Freebird.” But tons of great independent stations exist, like New York’s 107.1 “The Peak” and Minnesota’s 89.3 “The Current”—both of which stream online—expose spankin’ new bands as well as old but forgotten classics. College radio stations, like our very own WBRU, BSR, and Fordham University’s WFUV also provide excellent places to find those left-of-center artists. Not to be outdone, online radio such as Pandora and Last.fm, which create stations tailor-made to your taste, provide listeners with not only variety, but also ingenious ways to bookmark and save tunes, making sure that no obscure Radiohead bootleg is left behind. —G.K. TV/Film These two media influence the musical tide in unlikely ways. And what’s one of the best places to start on the silver screen? Gossip Girl. Although it may reek of rich-New-York-hipster problems, the show is a breeding ground for the next new things in music; it has already helped kick-start the careers of bands like MGMT. Lastly, if you’re looking to expand your musical genre horizons, try investigating film soundtracks. They can introduce you to an eclectic array of artists and styles, whether you want to explore country crooning via T-Bone Burnett’s O Brother Where Art Thou, or get your international on with Yann Tiersan’s Amélie. —G.K. Concerts/Shows The concert venue itself holds great potential for music discovery. Fashionably late isn’t always the route to take, as mysterious opening acts can dramatically reupholster one’s music library. Openers aside, concerts are a vital lifesource of new music via the free swag route: mixtapes, record label samplers, and download-link-infused promo cards. The live setting is especially splendid for finding local music. Moreover, by seeing a group before they explode, you’ve got the opEmily Oliveira
On The Prowl
portunity to drop the quintessential “Oh, I saw them years ago.” —C.A. Digital Stores The ethical glory of actually purchasing music generates an incomparable feeling of the warmest fuzziness. Digital stores like iTunes, AmazonMP3, eMusic, and Bandcamp are often overlooked as discovery sites: There’s an under-appreciated beauty in “related artists” links and user-created playlists. Bandcamp is especially sexy if you’re on the lookout for something completely new, as many of the artists are unsigned. Plus, with Bandcamp, you can search for music by location, revealing a myriad of local music madness. If you’re feeling courageous, glorious results can come of dropping a few dollars every so often on a completely random AmazonMP3 $3.99 album. Last but not least, don’t forget about Ping, iTunes’ wildly underutilized social network. Users can check out who their favorite artists’ artists are... It’s the meta-music experience that your life has been missing. —C.A. Contributing writers: Lily Goodspeed, Eric Sun, Gopika Krishna and Clayton Aldern Visit post.browndailyherald.com for our very own blogroll and more places to start your music search!
(so many possible drinking games), diehard fans don’t need to be told to re-read the books. How else will we know which obscure details the directors omit? It’s common knowledge that post-movie deconstructions are important step in the grieving process. Another step: cornering Emma Watson for Hermione hugs next fall! The Trashy Beach Read: A Shore Thing, by Nicole “Snooki” Polizzi Here’s a taste of Snooki’s novel (aka a fictionalized version of the already fictional Jersey Shore): “He had an okay body. Not fat at all. And naturally toned abs. She could pour a shot of tequila down his belly and slurp it out of his navel without getting splashed in the face.” If you’re looking for a quick way to lower your IQ, or tips about perfecting your Bumpit use, then you’re Snooki’s target audience. Remember, sharing is caring, so perfect your dramatic reading skills. Extra points for reenacting her bar-fight scene, preferably while clad in leopard-print spandex. This Year’s Great American Novel: Freedom, by Jonathan Franzen If you want to remind yourself of your actual reading level, pick up Freedom. Everyone from Oprah to Obama has fawned over this novel—and with good reason. The plot is more sweeping and fantastical than a soap opera, with psychotic girlfriends, fake cancer patients, shady business dealings in South America, and affairs with faded rock stars. But this book is no Days of Our Lives novelization. Franzen’s keen-eyed
saucy tomes and leopard-print spandex
descriptions elevate the outrageous plot into genuine, and genuinely enjoyable, literary fiction. So go ahead, intimidate passersby and weigh down your beach towel with this 576-page bad boy. The One to Quote to Your Parents: Onward: How Starbucks Fought For Its Life Without Losing Its Soul, by Howard Schultz Somehow, the CEO of Starbucks spends 400 pages talking about Starbucks—its ups and downs, the customerbased values, and how Schultz “considers it a personal failure when he sees someone with a competitor’s cup of coffee.” How touching. But seriously, this behindthe-scenes look at the classic big, scary, evil corporation is intriguing—just make sure you’re drinking Fair Trade coffee as you read it to maintain your street cred. The One to Hide from Your Parents: The Ethical Slut: A Practical Guide to Polyamory, Open Relationships & Other Adventures, by Dossie Easton In this saucy tome, Easton attempts to reclaim the word “slut,” which the author defines as “a person of any gender who has the courage to lead life according to the radical proposition that sex is nice and pleasure is good for you.” But The Ethical Slut is much more than a how-to guide for maintaining a revolving bedroom door. It also discusses jealousy, communication, and relationship conflict, as well as the power of claiming agency over one’s sexuality. And who knows—you may even get brownie points for including it on your FemSex app next fall. The Substitute for Your Social Life: Room, by Emma Donoghue We’ve read plenty of books written by old white guys, but what about books from the perspective of five-year old boys? Room is narrated by Jack, who is like most other boys his age with one exception: he and his mother have been held captive in the same room for his entire life. Loosely based on the horrifying Josef Fritzel case (Fritzel kept his daughter hostage in their basement for 24 years), Room will put those last-week-ofAugust blues in perspective. You may be lonely with all your friends gone, but at least you have free range of your house. The best part? Even if you don’t read these books, you now have more than enough information to pretend you did.
sophia SEAWELL contributing writer
Remember that moment of panic mid-August last year? The one when you realized that, while your friends were doing research in Iceland and interning at The New Yorker, you were sitting on your couch watching The Biggest Loser and feeding beer to your dog. Luckily, there’s a way to avoid that “Wow, I’ve accomplished nothing this summer ... and my dog may be an alcoholic” feeling. The perfect pretense of accomplishment is a summer reading list—you needed one after finishing the “BBC Top 100 Books” anyway, right? The Comic Relief: Are You There Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea, by Chelsea Handler By the time summer rolls around we’re all tired of essays. But this collection by stand-up comedian Chelsea Handler is more refreshing than an ice-cold mojito. The light-hearted read offers everything from the ordinary, like sibling rivalry, to the absurd, like pretending to be on a honeymoon with your father to get bumped up to first class. The New York Times called it “too funny for words.” Pun intended? One wonders. The Throwback: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J.K. Rowling It’s here, the moment we’ve all been dreading. This July, the final Harry Potter movie will come and go. While amateurs may hold HP movie marathons
arts & culture
Sex in Front of My Professor and 18 Peers
and other weird tales from drama kids
As You Like It: What Not to Do ... King Lear: How to Fence and How to Die … The Famished: for ruining our lives and making us happy (I saw it five times and felt more like an astronaut testing out a weird spaceship than a student) … And shitty plays: for being their own greatest validations of my decisions not to audition for them. Favorite on-stage moment: Dat time when i got to be in da dark and tell ppl iz okay to take phone callz in my show but they still rude if they do it … Drew “Monster” Foster with his arms in the air … RAWdance duet during Parents’ Weekend Dance Concert, because it made me feel things … Bitches in the Upspace for being so fierce, and necessary … And Justin Kuritzkes walking outside for a cigarette in Closer. Beautiful, genius! Sexiest on-stage moment: Does Ned Riseley count as a moment? … The time I had to mount a classmate and simulate having sex on the floor in front of my professor and 18 peers... Jarrett Key’s legs in Kaspar. I mean did you see them? … Wearing a fat suit through all of Lie of the Mind … Zack Segel and Leah Cogan making bedbugs seem sexy and the transfer of bedbugs even sexier ... Madeleine Heil, like strawberry wine … But seriously, Jamila Woods in Talk. The dress, the voice, the whole damn thing. Most challenging moment: Intermis-
sions. It is often very challenging not to leave during them … Talk, for making me wonder who will misconstrue my work when I disappear … Watching my frozen face projected onto the back wall of PW in Heddatron ... And realizing that after four years of blood, sweat ‘n’ tears I will graduate with a degree in theater … Challenging? Nah, dis shit’s easy! Moment that made you cry or smile or think: “I birthed that muthaf*cka, raised him, and when he started f*cking up like all the time and constantly, I nagged God’s ass to save him” ... Nightingale saying, “I have a fever you’d be lucky to catch. A fever to hold and be held” in Brown/Trinity’s Vieux Carré—because how did Tennessee Williams know just how I’d feel every day of my life? … The line at the end of The Last Days of Judas Iscariot: “God may reduce you on Judgment Day to tears of shame reciting by heart the poems you would have written, had your life been good.” There’s carpe diem and all that trite business, and then there’s really getting your ass in gear … Uh, I also like that one in The Famished about eating other people’s leftovers. Member of the theatre community who deserves most credit for creativity: Doug Eacho and Lauren Neal for turning big thoughts into smart theatre and for ruling the upspace in brave new ways … Every audience member who sat through
And here we are, taking the final curtain call at the end of a season that has been described by one of Brown’s preeminent bespectacled theatre practitioners as “rough, with some unanticipated high points, like a Purdue chicken breast baked in a toaster oven but stuffed with three gourmet truffles.” This week’s article channels the similarly eloquent voices of some of Brown’s most outspoken and charismatic theatre personalities as they reminisce on this season’s theatrical “delights.” Please welcome to the mic, in no particular order: Sam Yambrovich, Jared Bellot, Ariel Hudes, Ellen Shadburn, Lauren Neal, Doug Eacho, Max Posner, Gordon Sayre, Licki Ucroj and David Litt. As you read on, guess who said what! It shouldn’t be too difficult—their voices are pretty distinct. Best theatre experience this year: Without a doubt: Stand and Unfold Yourself—my solo show in February … because Hamlet touched me, and Ria DiLullo looked damn hot ... Oikos—a beautiful magic show in an off-campus apartment’s closet … And spending 12 hours in a dark, windowless theater on my 21st birthday instead of getting my drank on (no mistakes made that night!) Best theatre learning experience:
a 3-hour S&B show … Kym Moore for showing us again and again that she deserves to be in a tenure track position (she got the job) … Erik Ehn for simultaneously laboring over his own plays, teaching brand-new classes, advising both graduate students and undergrads, directing Talk, making opera with the homeless, and executing epic, multi-year theatrical missions, without ever saying “um”… And me cuz i dont even go to dis school but i be performin here anyway. Any parting words? Brown. Sad to see it go. Will miss the density. Will miss the audiences. Young. Smart. Drunk. These are very lucky circumstances for making plays ... A panda and some weed in a blender may not make a cake, but I’ll still watch you try … Let a beast like me lick you an’ suddenly ur shit sproutin’ leavez and wingz like moldy lettuce u left in da freezer too long … Never f*ck with pandas ... or robots ... or nuns .... or zucchini?
film & tv
“There’s No Easy Way to Say This, So I’ll Just Drag it Out”
saying goodbye to michael scott
leagues. He wants them to know how much he appreciated them. “Would I rather be feared or loved?” he asks. “Um, easy. I want people to be afraid of how much they love me.” Dunder Mifflin Scranton is Michael’s family. And he values nothing more than his family. The writers deserve their due credit for using Scott’s turnaround—but so does Carell. The actor who became famous for supporting roles in Bruce Almighty (2003) and Anchorman (2004) adapted brilliantly to the writers’ new treatment of his character, giving Scott some much-needed pathos. Carell’s strikingly vulnerable portrayal of Scott kept the show palatable even during its most cringeworthy moments. Remember when Michael kissed Oscar to prove his acceptance of gay men? Would we have tolerated this behavior from someone less lovable than Michael? I hope not. Michael’s glory days at the office could not last forever. His oft-seen soft side encouraged the writers to give him more emotional storylines—like searching for the love of his life—leaving the rest of the cast mired in office satire that had lost its edge. Latter seasons oscillated between high-quality old-school office humor (the toils of bankruptcy and company mergers) and awkwardly personal storylines (Jan’s surprise baby, anyone?). Through all this turmoil, Scott was the only constant—the only character left who remained believable in the show’s new bipolarism. When news of Carell’s departure spread, everyone and his mother began speculating about the show’s future. How would the writers handle his exit? Perhaps this is why they’ve spent so much time in the last few seasons fleshing out supporting characters, like Andy and Darryl, even Kelly and relative newcomer Erin. They clearly hope to sustain our interest in Dunder Mifflin even without Scott. But for me, the true loss is Scott himself. If Will Ferrell’s current guest spot is any indication, whoever replaces him (and producers have stayed mum on who that might be) will have an ill-fitting women’s suit to fill. To mix some more metaphors, Scott was the sun around which the other characters revolved, the mast that kept the ship on course. He not only spit out some of the most memorable lines from the show but also inspired some of the driest retorts from his coworkers. His absence will irrevocably alter The Office, for better or for worse. But one thing’s for certain: his loss will be hard for all to swallow. As Michael would say, that’s what she said.
I met Michael Scott in the spring of 2005. As I was smack in the middle of my anglophilic phase, I approached the American remake of Ricky Gervais’ The Office with a hefty amount of skepticism. No one on this side of the pond could possibly fill Gervais’ uniquely British shoes. After watching the first six episodes of the American version, I was convinced I was right. Michael Scott was a buffoon—in a way that bespoke plain meanness, not high-brow social satire. Why did this terrible, balding man set up diversity seminars simply to pick on the sole Indian employee? Considering the terrors of my freshman year of high school, the fact that I found The Office unbearable was quite a statement. I stopped watching without a second thought. If I wanted commentary on the doldrums of office life, I could just look to my parents. But fate gave Michael and me another chance that fall, when NBC brought the show back for a second season. The raging bull that had been Michael Scott had calmed down. Steve Carell had lost some weight; Michael lost some of his callousness. Within a few episodes, Scott became perhaps the most adorably cartoonish character on television. Don’t get me wrong, he made the same offensive innuendos and did business with just as much incompetence. But suddenly, he had a human side. The show’s writers realized that for viewers to swallow his tomfoolery, we’d need a way to relate to him. In the first episode of the second season, “The Dundies,” Michael tries to boost office spirit by handing out annual awards at a local Chili’s. Of course, he takes the ceremony all too seriously, even crafting a ridiculous rap-infused opening. But through the rigmarole of dragging everyone out just to hand out fake plastic trophies, the writers made it clear that Scott was not just trying to rally the troops. He truly cares about his col-
THURSDAY, APRIL 21, 2011
Me Jane. You Food.
jane BRENDLINGER food columnist
is due your counterpart, the V-Dub, I was never seduced by her charms. Perhaps it was the commute (a full four minutes), or perhaps that as a vegetarian, I found little allure in Chicken Finger Friday. A lost opportunity, VDub, I’m sure we would have been great together. But the Ratty, can I even count the ways? Your soft serve, so creamy and almost flavorless—subtle, I might say. Topped with bananas, Oreos, M&Ms, peanut butter, it’s a dessert fit for the gods. And the cereals! Never again will I be privy to such a vast selection—so can someone please direct me to a commercial source of Cracklin’ Oat Bran? Worse still, I’m not sure what I’ll do without my daily servings of fries from the various fry food groups— spicy, steak, sweet potato, WAFFLE. A future deficit in my diet, to be sure. Okay, I might be poking fun at the Ratty, but I must give credit where credit is due: the place certainly produces the occasional culinary success. Take vegan chana masala and gnocchi, for instance, or the delightful mélange of roasted root vegetables I enjoyed just last week. And then there’s the surprise element of Ratty dinner, which I may well miss more than anything—arriving at the dining hall, surveying the options, choosing six items and then discarding all of them in favor of a bowl of cereal. As for the lesser dining halls, I will miss them as well. My salad at Jo’s: spinach, tofu, mandarin orange slices, avocado, olives, cranberries, and balsamic vinaigrette. My sandwich at the Blue Room: honey mustard, mixed veggies, buffalo mozzarella, spinach, tomato, and basil on a wheat wrap. And my Ivy Room falafel: everything, with extra falafel! But much more than the food, I think I’ll most miss the atmosphere of collegiate dining. Seeing the dining
a farewell to meal plan
hall divided into cliques like the cafeteria map in Mean Girls: the Jocks, the Mathletes, the Sexually Active Band Geeks. Waiting patiently with your fellow students in the jaw-dropping line for mac and cheese. Gail greets you at the door, while José twiddles your ID and plays a rhyming game with your name (Plain Jane, Insane Jane!). And I’ll certainly pine for Sunday brunch from time to time—not for the fare, but for the spectacle of students trolling in for breakfast at 1 pm, the evidence of last night’s debauchery written plainly on their faces. So, meal plan, I savor these last few weeks, reveling in your baked sweet potatoes and delighting in your magic bars. New culinary horizons await, but I’ll always remember that Brown Dining showed me the Tastes of the World. This I impart to you, dear reader, and may the tradition continue:
Perhaps, reader, you’re still stumbling around in a post-Spring Weekend stupor, or else nursing those mysterious wounds you received at the foam party. Yet, as April comes to a close and finals pop up like daisies (or rather, like grotesque, flesh-eating Venus flytraps), the end of the spring semester seems imminent. And for some of us, May brings with it the end of an era, a real departure, a graduation ... from meal plan. My relationship with Brown Dining Services ends this semester, and after two years of rollercoaster excitement, intense love, resentment, and a sordid affair with Thayer, the break up will be bittersweet. I thought about leaving during sophomore year. But when I realized that meals would entail eating alone in my Grad Center single—not to mention hours in shopping, preparation, and clean up time—I caved for Flex 330. Resigned to another few months of overcooked Ratty fare, I eagerly awaited the day when I could break free. That day, dear reader, has nearly arrived. Next semester, the Promised Land awaits: a fully equipped kitchen to call my own; a market share of fresh, local foods; and the freedom to jaunt to Eastside Market whenever I so choose. Yet even as I scorn the greasestained offerings of the Ratty and scoff at the once novel menu at the Blue Room, I can’t help but dwell on the things I’ll miss. And so, sentimentally, I offer this ode—for to have loved and lost is better than to have never loved at all ... Oh, Sharpe Refectory, how you’ve endeared yourself to me over these two years! Though some praise
Breakfast of Champions
To be assembled open-faced: Whole Wheat toast (preferably the Seven Stars bread from Roots and Shoots) All-natural peanut butter Banana, thinly sliced Drizzle of honey Sprinkle of granola Smattering of Raisins Note: Shower after eating may be necessary.
An Inconvenient Brew
tory ELMORE contributing writer
20% of the total CO2 emissions per can. Natural Light I’ve yet to enter Olney House without being offered a can of Natural Light—I try to be too drunk to care what light beer I’m offered by the time I reach the frats. Natty Light is brewed by Anheuser-Busch Companies, Inc. which ranked 40th in the Political Economy Research Institute’s “Toxic 100”—a list of the American corporations most responsible for air pollution. The company operates 12 domestic breweries, the closest of which is located in Merrimack, NH, 90 miles due north of Providence. Unfortunately, when dealing with corporate interests and food miles (the distance a product travels before consumption), it’s never guaranteed that the closest producer is the one filling your Solo Cup. According to my calculations, the carbon footprint of one can of Natty Light is about 375 g of CO2. A Blue Ribbon for Pabst I may own a pair of acid wash skinny jeans, several thrift store sweaters, and an iTunes library stocked with indie rock, but my taste for PBR has little to do with its hipster appeal. I simply like Pabst’s clear, pale-gold body, its combination of light, malty sweetness, and the bitterness of its hops. Much to my delight, on the carbon scale, PBR fared far better than its frat house competitor. Pabst is something of a “virtual” brewer—today it owns no actual breweries but instead Brown loves the environment. Need evidence? Check your Morning Mail, the CES, or the enthusiastically used, solarpowered trash compactors around campus. Brown loves beer. I can’t believe anyone would need evidence for this, but if you do, check out the Sigma basement or your roommate’s refrigerator. As an avid proponent of both environmental sustainability and beer consumption, I decided to find out which brands are brewing green. For my investigation, I focused on three brands I’ve seen (and drunk) around Brunonia—Natty Light (the Wriston staple), Pabst Blue Ribbon (SO hipster chic), and Narragansett (a Rhode Island native). Before we embark on this carbonic adventure, let me (albeit briefly) explain how I calculated each beer’s environmental impact. A carbon footprint is the total amount of greenhouse gas emissions, namely CO2, released by a person, event, process, or product. For each brand, I averaged the distance of major breweries from Providence, calculated the CO2 cost of trucking the cans crosscountry and divided that by the number of cans transported. I then weighed an empty can from each brand to determine its aluminum impact. I also looked into the consequences of the brewing and fermentation processes and ingredients. These factors were fairly consistent for all three brands and accounted for 15-
it’s not so hard being green
contracts MillerCoors to manufacture its beer. Though its closest brewery is located in distant Elkton, VA, MillerCoors has taken an active role in reducing its carbon footprint through reducing water use and carbon emissions, focusing on renewable energy, light-weighting their packaging, and recycling nearly all brewery waste. My analysis of PBR’s travel distance, ingredients, and packaging puts its footprint at 315 g of CO2, significantly lower than Natty’s 375g. Local Takes the Cask To be completely honest, I drank my first Narragansett as part of my research for this story (not a bad writing gig, eh?). Once official sponsors of the Boston Red Sox and the best-selling brand in New England, Narragansett now occupies only a narrow segment of the market, unfortunately. The Narragansett Bock, a seasonal lager, is rich and slightly sweet, with an interestingly complex malt flavor. The bock I sampled (along with several other ‘Gansett craft brews) is made right here in Providence, and that gives it a definite edge in the race for carbon reduction. One can of Narragansett Bock clocked in a carbon footprint of 250 g of CO2. So, when all’s said, done, drunk, and recycled, it turns out that local beer really is the way to go. But if “local” isn’t your style, there are still ways for you environmentally-conscious Brown beer-junkies to drink responsibly. Inevitably, I learned
a few things about sustainable beer consumption that hold true regardless of the brand you choose: One, retail storage accounts for over a quarter of the carbon emissions of your average beer. If you’re not going to drink it right away, buy it un-refrigerated. Two, glass bottles are more carbon costly to produce, ship, and recycle. Connoisseurs may cringe, but aluminum is the way to go. Or buy a growler, a halfgallon glass jug used to transport draft beer straight from the pub. Three, (a twist on the classic SADD slogan): don’t drive to drink. A gallon of gasoline emits 8.8 kg of carbon, and with multiple liquor stores located on or around campus (Spiritus, Darwin’s, Campus Wines, and Bottles), there simply ain’t no need. Drinking to sustain the environment is no harder than drinking to sustain your buzz. Yeah, Kermit—being green is easier than you think.
sex & etiquette
n. any of the innumerable misconceptions about the menstrual cycle perpetuated in popular media, including tampon ads, Redbook, and, lately, email newsletters.
Last month, I was perusing Jezebel to see what mix of aggressively feminist and ditheringly normative articles were headlining the blogosphere, and found something aptly hashtagged, “#idiots.” It was Sadie Stein’s review of “The Daily Cramp,” an email newsletter to help men in relationships track their female partners’ menstrual cycles. Every day, devoted dickholes worldwide receive an email that provides predictions of their girlfriends’ moods, libidos, and hormone levels. Founded by Miami investment bankers Finch and Stifler and their token techy bro, Jim, “The Daily Cramp” is a progressive leap in gender relations that will have you and your partner in stitches. (Not super sure about the masterminds’ real names, except 29-year-old Jon Hilley, who publicized his project by saying, “Email newsletters aren’t a sexy business, but they can literally print money for the people who start them.” If you haven’t heard of his revolutionary Give-MeMoney-Now marketing campaign, you may recognize him as the kid from your middle school talent show who tried to win the prize money by suck-
ing his own cock and lighting his farts on fire at the same time.) Anyway, I’m unimpressed. If you saw last semester’s column on the Rhythm Method, or take bio, or have ever gotten a period, then you know it’s pretty ridic to assume that all women experience the same menstrual symptoms every month. Sure, the mean length of a woman’s menstrual cycle is 28 days, but that’s an average representing over three billion uteruses; “The Daily Cramp” doesn’t let you select a cycle that’s shorter than 25 days or longer than 34, or for that matter, an irregular cycle. There is no drop-down list that lets you specify whether the ladyfriend in question has metorrhagia (uterine bleeding between menstruations), dysmenorrhea (intense pain during menstruation), menorrhagia (excessive blood loss during menstruation), oligomenorrhea (menstrual cycles lasting longer than 35 days), or amenorrhea (absence of menstruation altogether). There’s no hormonal birth-control option, or menopausal option, or doesn’t-get-cramps or craves-baby-bok-choi or has-super-sensitive-nips-while-PMSing option. My point here isn’t to rant about how men Just Don’t Understand or how capi-
talism has commoditized my ovaries. For starters, I think a daily e-newsletter about menstruation is a swell, swell thing. Finally, words like, “watery,” “brown,” and “chunks” are finding their way into a lexicon dominated by phrases such as “on the rag,” “blow-job week,” and “girl stuff.” (Can I just say I have been pulling for “chunks” to enter the menstrual vernacular for, like, ever?!) But the “Cramp,” while it has some educational value, ultimately contributes to normative fallacies that can be alienating for the 99 percent of women who don’t get their periods every 28th day at the same time, and secrete the same amount of tissue with the same symptoms, unequivocally. So, because I realized it had been a while since I’d thrown up in my own mouth, I subscribed to “The Daily Cramp.” I realize I’m totally buying into Hilley’s rabid get-rich-quick scheme by joining his lil’ listserv, but I’m calling it fieldwork. The best (worst?) thing about the newsletters is that they’re all written by men from the first-person perspective of a woman. Each day is a different hypersexed, hypertext soliloquy in the voice of a controlling, entitled, and irrational girlfriend who thinks it’s okay to stipu-
late her boyfriend’s behavior based on her level of progesterone. Take yesterday’s entry, for example: “I do expect you to try and make me feel better. So go do something nice for me. If you’re feeling cheap, give me three compliments. Not one. Not two. Three. Yes, three. Or if you want to impress me like you did in the first month of our relationship, buy me something. Like a mani and pedi. Or my favorite movie.” If I had the guts to hit “Reply” to these libelous horndogs, I’d start by telling them that there are plenty of women who like to have sex on their periods, who don’t treat their partners like indentured servants, who don’t commit random acts of terrorism post-ovulation. When we outsource responsibility for our behavior to conditions out of our control, we ensure— deterministically—that these behaviors continue to occur. If you don’t have a uterus, make a conscious effort to be an ally, rather than antagonist or victim, of those who do. If you have a uterus, make a conscious effort to be an ally, rather than antagonist or victim, of those who don’t.
etiquette advice for the socially awkward and their victims Dear Emily, So I was at my Passover seder, right? The matzoh ball soup was flowing freely and I had just stolen the afikomen from my 4-year-old cousin and made some mad dough—life was good. And then sometime right after the fourth cup of wine, Uncle Hiram went from sober to shloshed to utterly sh*tfaced and started to slur the family secrets. I’m not talking your run-ofthe-mill shagging-in-the-sukkah secrets. Think giant money laundering operations that may or may not have contributed to the financial collapse of an unnamed country in Eastern Europe. Come the next day, Hiram is batting his eyes innocently and I’m racked with the kind of guilt I thought only a Jewish mother could provoke. What’s a mensch to do? Sincerely, Shiksa, help—I’m trying so hard to stifle his intoxicated tales! Dear SH*TSH*TSH*T, My, my. As a simple little WASP from Greenwich, Connecticut, Emily Post- must confess that she doesn’t know half of the words in your letter. So, she is introducing her token Jewish friend as a guest expert. Here’s what she has to say: “The Seder table is not Las Vegas. What is said under the influence of the Kiddush cup will not be forgotten as rapidly as your promise to keep kosher at college (damn breakfast sandwiches and their bacon-filled delights...). [Emily Post- senses that her gift of strawberry rhubarb preserves—made by the indigenous people of Connecticut!—went unappreciated.] As you indicated, whatever crime this relative may have committed has potentially devastating implications. As such, it is your moral responsibility to share what you know— No, no, no. On second thought, Emily is the expert on family secrets. After a heated croquet match and a vodka spritzer or ten, Grandpapa Post- has been known to spill a few unsavory details about his past. (Jay Gatsby? Not as fictitious as one might think.) If there’s one thing Emily’s family has given her—besides an illustrious genealogy dating back to The Mayflower— it’s the knowledge that one should keep family skeletons firmly in the closet. One’s primary loyalty is to one’s blood, not to the citizens of some backwater Eastern European country. Besides, if you report this to the authorities, it will become a three-ring circus à la the Madoffs. You’ll have third cousins and other undesirables crawling out of the woodwork to appear in rags like The National Enquirer. Emily Post- shudders at the abyss of tackiness into which your family would be thrown. Shove this scandal behind Great-Grandma Maude’s outmoded furs (or whatever it is that you keep in your closets) and embrace guilt, the garnish to every good martini. Clandestinely yours, Emily Post-
mastering your ‘bation fantasies
This week, Post- presents Miss Piggy, subbing in for Dorian as he trots sassily around the globe.
Dear L&D, My ex-partner makes his sexy way into my fantasies every time I masturbate. It’s hot—until my bitterness toward him upsets me, and I stop myself, feeling aroused, unsatisfied, and emotional. How can I keep lusting over him without ending up like this? Thanks, Beautiful Lust Undermined By A Lov- My dearest BLUBALLS, er’s Lingering Specter Although it’s great that you have found a stimulus for your solo show, it Darlink BLUBALLS, might be more productive to get him When we’re in love, all of our partner’s out of your fantasies, and your life, traits get grouped into one big, positive once and for all. Right now, it seems bundle. They’re nice, beautiful, hilarious, like you’re walking down the danamazing in bed, and brilliant. When we gerous path of lusting after the “sexy break up, some people convince them- douchebag.” While eroticizing exes has selves that everything was bad. It seems the appeal of the secretive and naughlike your reaction falls somewhere in be- ty, it can also set you up for bitterness tween: You’re still super pissed and think and emotional sh*tstorms. Pining after he’s a douche, but deep down you still find someone (even in fantasy) who brings him muy sexy. If you work on separat- you angst just causes a huge clusterf*ck ing the good from the bad, you can have of emotions that you can do without. all your fun without the seeping bitter- So, instead of focusing on him, find ness. Fully admit your attraction to him, another source of sexiness. Maybe try masturbate to his sexiness, all the while out a stimulating website to get the job understanding that doing this does not done. Or think about that cutie at Cofmean you are jerkin’ it to him as a whole fee Ex you’ve had your eye on. person. Hopefully this will help you avoid If you’re feeling really adventurous, thinking about the negative parts of the though, stop playing with yourself and relationship and you can enjoy yourself. go find a sexy, nice, kickassingly emAnother option is to work on the powering dude. popular yet effective technique of denial. Oink, Pretend it isn’t your ex in your fantasies, Miss Piggy
it’s just someone who happens to look/ smell/taste/sound like him. But it’s most definitely not that douchebag. If all else fails, opt for the replacement method. Whenever you find him creeping into your sexytime thoughts, immediately subsitute another (preferably sexier) person in his place. xoxo Lovecraft
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