Well, it has finally happened … We, the University of Miami, finally have a team to rally behind, to get excited about, to attend a game sober enough to read the score for (can’t say the same for our football team). We, the University of Miami, are a basketball school. Let's celebrate with a little Miami Madness.
We can all thank Alix Earle, or better I say Mrs. Alix Earle-frat-guy, for helping our campus move toward a more virtuous and monogamous community of happily wedded 20-year-olds. So long, pool parties and Friday night dick-appointements and hello to a life-time of resentment and day drinking (not the fun kind).
I put forth this itching and burning query – a sensation similarly induced by the pool itself – to you dear reader, what could possibly be in the opaque vat of liquid we so shamelessly call a pool?
Happy homecoming! I’m sure you’ve been made abundantly aware that our neighbors to the north, Florida State University, will be on our turf for a football rivalry game as old as time. No matter the outcome of Saturday’s game, we can all rest assured that we, our proud community of ‘Canes, have won the best prize of them all; Unlike the thousands of safety-school-Seminols of Talla-nasty, we got into the U. If I had the pleasure of writing one of the many rejection letters addressed to a now FSU student, it would go a little something like this:
If Miami football has taught me two things, it’s don’t get your hopes up, no matter who the head coach is, and block the wide receiver’s Instagram, no matter how smooth the opening line (trust me he’ll just fumble the bag). So, I’ve decided to put together my own team. Call your bookies babes, cause we’re bringing home some dubs. Meet V’s starting 11:
Even amidst the sticky atrocity that is UM’s hook-up scene, there’s a good pipe for everyone. So, I have come to share my saged wisdom and help you navigate who you horndogs should swipe right on. Thank me later.
The urine-colored floor tiles, the on-and-off again vending machines, the artsy photographs of glass blowings, the cinderblock chic aesthetic, the sock-absorbing portals behind the laundry machines and the atmosphere of detrimentally horny 18 and 19-year-olds circulating through the moldy air.
Thought we'd switch it up. It's your turn to make the assumptions. Choose your answer carefully and then check yourself at the end. 1. Biggest flirt Just wearing those tight pants is flirting.2. Most ...
