Big Trouble in Little Penn Station

So I decided that I'd go home this weekend, and decided to go out of class a few minutes (read: an hour) early so I could go home in peace. Then I realized that I was going to be late, so I ran to the subway, got on, and made it there in 15 minutes flat. Then I realized, oh fuck, I'm actually one hour early. Goddamn.

So the long minutes passed, as the streams of sweat slowly trickled down my forehead. Tick tock tick tock.

Announcement: Train is delayed; further announcements are coming.

A collective groan emitted from the downcast crowd, and a few fucks and shits were clearly heard. Oh well, I thought; guess I could go on Facebook more.

Announcement: The train is in the yard for mechanical repairs. Further delays expected.

Fine I thought. The train should only be delayed for a few more hours, right? WRONG AGAIN ASSHOLE.

I spent another 50 minutes waiting for the train. Track 6 flittered onto the board, and it was like fucking Black Friday as everyone pushed everyone out of the way to get a seat. We get down there, there's one train on the right, but on Track 7. Some people (aka, me) get on the train tentatively... everyone asks around, is this the right train? People are confused.

Announcement: Oh hey guys, this train is going to the yard. If you guys wanna hang out there, stick around.

Smug asshole. Using my skills from playing Counterstrike since I was eight, I jumped out and ran to the platform where By the lord, another train had arrived, actually on the right track this time. I get in the ridiculously long fucking line but something's wrong... all the seats already are full. The conductor tells us... hey guys, this train's actually going to Boston.

What the fuck? Everyone just rolls their eyes and starts panicking. They mob the female whatever, she was a huge bitch who told us... YOU GUYS MISSED THE TRAIN, HAHA.

I go... How the hell do 300 people miss their train? Apparently, the train had already left... before they had made the announcement. Good game America (and Amtrak). SSo they announce that we should take the other train leaving for Baltimore... in I don't know, 2 minutes? So another stampede occurs, and we get on the train. Too bad that THERE'S NO SEATS LEFT. None. Nada. Zilch. So I essentially paid $64.00 to be in a cattle car. Nice.

Well, either way, I made it back home in one piece.

Just Another Day at the Office (or the White House)

So last night 24 aired, and my god it was orgasmic, almost like getting Gray's at 3 AM in the morning when the wind is biting outside and all you have to wear is a thin hoodie and nothing else. A lot of the scenes were pretty badass, like Bill essentially pretending all black men look alike (note: They don't) and Jack and Renee kicking ass everywhere (although Renee nearly torturing a baby was pretty damn hard to watch). The whole fucking show almost got cut off though because Obama decided that Mondays at 8 is a fantastic time to give a long press conference. Nice.

I woke up late today too, and I nearly missed class. I fucking had toothpaste on my jeans because I tried changing while doing my shit. By the way? It doesn't work. At least I finished early today.

Coke is back, actually. Nice try.

Unfortunately what New Soul forgot to tell you in the two-month hiatus we've had is that Coke is actually back.

For fuck's sake, all I want is some goddamn Coke. Pepsi isn't fizzy enough at all. Not only that, there's not enough goddamn soda syrup.

So a few days ago, a few friends and I stopped by to see a French DJ who goes by the name of Danger. If you like chipbit electronic music, this fellow is the right musician for you. Place was pretty nuts I'd have to say, I got molested a few times by X'd up hipsters but other than that, it was a-ok (and we got in for free, too.) Oh, we also saw this obvious tranny, and NS was going crazy about it. We got home late, but I ended up staying up late anyway. Too bad some people (ML and EK, nice job guys) couldn't get in, but just because you're 18? What kind of world is this anyway?

Coke! And Not the Illicit Kind, Unfortunately

There is a new issue facing the NYU campus - that is, besides the sub-freezing temperatures and wind tunnels created by these sixteen-storey buildings. It is an issue coming before the school senate on December 4: whether or not to lift the ban on Coca Cola that the University placed in 2005. The reason NYU, and approximately twenty-five other universities, banned all Coke products from its campus - dining hall soda fountains, vending machines, catering events, etc. - was the suspicious death of a union organizer in the Colombia bottling plant that Coke refused to investigate. NYU told Coke that if they conducted an independent investigation of the event, they would consider lifting the ban. An investigation was done, but Coke is the main sponsor of the company that held it, and the NYU Law School professors who looked at the investigation are dissatisfied, claiming that it was not properly conducted and that its results are therefore meaningless. The group heading the crusade for the return of Coke is College Republicans, and they claim that students should have the choice to drink and therefore support whichever kind of soda they like.

But I'm curious as to how others feel about the issue: Is it really that important to be able to choose between Coke and Pepsi? Is one really better than the other? Do students even care? Is the death of a union worker in South America important to us?

Personally, I believe that Coke should stay banned. Besides the investigation being illegitimate, there are - of course, you guys know me - environmental issues to be considered. Several Coke plants take all of the groundwater from surrounding areas so that water needs to be trucked into these communities, making it available only to those who can pay for it. Also, I think some - ahem - groups on campus just like causing controversy. But that's just me.

Let me know what you guys think!

Saving the earth one plastic bottle at a time,
New Soul

The New Bennifer? Meet Gabril.

HE IS ALIVE!

Rumors are abound throughout as observers report that Juan Carlos and July have been seen together, sometimes getting remarkably close, fondling one another. Reactions have ranged from, "Aww, so cute!" to "Wow, I didn't know they even lived on this floor!".

Alas, the poll seems to have been remarkably incorrect - perhaps Juan Carlos will win.

More to come later,
Sexiled

Getting Dome in Doma...

It was a hot and steamy Saturday when some mates and I decided to venture out to the West Village. Besides being a gay stronghold (which by all accounts, it was), there were a lot of people out roaming and enjoying the nightlife. Many leggy models, drag queens, and even a transgender night at one of the bars (I'm sure a picture'll be up soon.) We eventually found a nice little cafe called Doma, where we ordered a plate of cheese (goat cheese and St. Andre's, to be exact) and we all got nice drinks (I got a nice cranberry-pineapple juice). Dreidel had to eat so much goat-cheese, she almost threw up. Emerald and Juan Carlos shared a very intimate moment. All I have to say is that they shared bodily fluids... it also involved olives.

Anyone else want to come out?

There are people in my room again.

I really need sleep.

Achtung baby,
Penguin

Mid-day Mourning

When the time came to register for classes last, February was it? (oh, sweet, naive Early Wintertime, when we did not know what we were getting into), some sort of perverse devil of sleep deprivation caused me to think "Oh, 8 AM class. I'll get it over with. That sounds like a good idea."

Oh boy, was I wrong.

Because now it's 1:30 in the afternoon, and I've been done with my school day for an hour, and many people on this campus are just waking up and crawling out of their warm, collegiate beds of happiness. So what do we do, we denizens of the morning class, we caffeine freaks on the common, we best minds of our generation destroyed by madness and Writing the Essay? Do we sit and wax rhapsodic about the lack of printers on NYU campus? Do we marvel at poor Mao's writing up? (Although I must say, at this point he's 87% ahead in the polls for Baby Daddy, so by online standards at least, we shouldn't be that suprised)

And who is this Provoked Dimsum anyway? She who hails from far off lands where they only label their bath products in Chinese Characters and pictures of kittens, she who sleeps little at night and much in morning, she who dissapears for long periods of time... Is she some sort of New York Moon Goddess? Is she the Painted Dragon herself? Is she even living less than 10 feet away from me?

Only the shadow knows.

Adios, mis amigos Jesus y Maria
You won't have no name when you ride the big airplane
And all they will call you is Napalm and Silly Putty

Who woulda thunk it?

Imagine if we had had a pool earlier on in the year. Who would you assume would have gotten written up first? Perhaps PB? Perhaps Desi? or even Emerald? But no, it was the valedictorian of his senior class, a young bird thrown from his nest into the wild world. A young man, who does not swim in the ocean that is New York. That man, that wonder-boy who has been written up for both a noise violation and alcohol violation... is our very own Mao.

How is this even possible? Is it the influence of the ever-sober Juan Carlos? Duality is important here at NYU. Or perhaps the influence of the hammered P.B. sleeping on his bathroom tile floor knocked out all the time? Definitely amazing, the whole floor is in shock. What will happen next? Will his parents found out? Ni-hao ma. Only time can tell.



Much love,
Sexiled

Washington Square Park

A bit frustrated and annoyed I am walking back from Bobst Library where the 2 DVDs of the documentary, "When the Levees Broke" by Spike Lee is currently being watched by my studious peers who wish to get the 5 pg report out of the way. Unfortunately for me, I have to wait an hour or so for them to finish so I make a pitstop at Starbucks and hope that my caramel frap will cheer me up. As I walk, and faces of different color, shapes, and sizes move past me, I smile a little because I'm reminded of where I am exactly -- in a city that holds a world in itself, where the word "diversity" holds another meaning.

I see a man designing a colorful picture on the pavement with, what I believe to be, chalk. I see a family -- all males -- playing music on a banjo, fiddle, guitar. I see an acoustic guitar player singing, what I would imagine to be, his own song, of course with his guitar case open in front of him. I see a man playing piano while two men tap dance beside him. There are various crowds of students and tourists around various groups of entertainers. I especially love the group with the string bass, drums, and saxophone. Oh, how sexy the saxophone sounds! Then, I see, what looks like, a Japanese woman dressed in a tin dress with gray, futuristic stilettos on with two mini t.v.'s attached to her butt. She walks around the park with a tiny smirk on her face. She likes the attention, but I'm curious as to what her motives are. I smile as I turn my head back to see her as she passes by and I can't help but wonder "Why?" I'm finally "home" and I swipe into Rubin Hall, located at 35 5th Ave. and wait for the elevator with my frap in hand, almost devoured, and I think about how much I love New York.

Following Obligations...

The penguin told me to post on blogspot...
so I posted. :)
*Feels proud of its dimsum-ness self*

Got You Stuck on my Elevator

Let's try to get some comments for some discussion, mmk? Everything looks so barren, so bleak, like the womb of some smoker lady who hasn't gotten any in sixty years. That reminds me, some bitch was on the elevator, right, and she presses 2. Are you fucking serious? WHO PRESSES THE ELEVATOR TO GO UP ONE FUCKING FLOOR?

Seriously. One fucking floor. If she had crutches, I could understand. Even if it was the third floor, I could understand. But goddamn.

ONE FUCKING FLOOR.

The stares on the elevator were quite obvious. Everyone's reaction ranged from:
"What the fuck?"
"That douchebag."
"What a fuckin' ho"
*eye roll*
*finger*
"Fuck that shit, that's gay."

to

"I hear she gets a rimjob everyday in the elevator."

The intense stares burned a hole in her as she nonchalantly left the elevator. Oh, and the third elevator sounds like there's a fucking train in the tunnel. I know for sure that I want to ride something as safe as that, right? I've tried warning everyone about it... But no one listens!

I was riding in an elevator for a model UN conference when all my friends decide to jump in. Bad fucking idea. It gets stuck between the 1st and 2nd floor, there's 30 fucking assholes in the elevator, people are yelling at each other, using up even more oxygen, and I just want to go to sleep. If you've ever watched the original Resident Evil movie, (that would be the one where it's kinda cool and not gay with Nemesis going around and doing kung-fu and shit) it was like that elevator scene when the woman gets decapitated when she sticks her head out the elevator door. Except that it wasn't being controlled by SkyNet or whatever the fuck the hotel had for a security system. Oh, and it didn't have nuclear weapons either. Or Terminator.

P.S. It's nice to see a lot of posts. It's bound to be good. Keep the comments coming folks.
P.P.S. Try to get profile pictures for your profiles. I have a nice Penguin. :)

Achtung baby,
Penguin

Sleep Deprived

It's only been two weeks in, and I'm already sleep deprived. What the hell?
I'd write something very witty and amusing right now, but I think my body is going to pass out in front of my laptop any minut......
zzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZz

I love the smell of Napalm in the morning...

And once again, introducing another contributor, sillyputty/napalm or whatever it is. Hailing from sunny California, she's one of our only West Coast contributors. Whee.

EDIT: Also introducing from China, provoked dimsum. No clue, we're not related.

Much love,
Sexiled

What's in a Name, though? Really?

Now this might come as a suprise to some of our professors, who assume that this generation is born with a silver USB cable in their mouths and an unqualified opinion ready to spout, but a lot of this floor seem to be pretty novice bloggers. The first challenge of this blog for some of us (now that we've discovered it exists) is to create an origional, personal, yet not too obvious name for our online doppleganger. Should we purloin the name of our favorite writer, name ourselves after our pets or hometowns or some other domestic nature, or take our names from the outside world? I don't think many of us are going to want to read a blog by 14 Killed in Fallujah, but BritneySpears49 seems too much like something a pedophile would make up.

So it's difficult.

But we perservere, and like the sad Writing the Essay student, we eventually succeed (I think), and go on with our happy lives here on Floor 10.

So college? College is strange. I move across the country to find a city of people who all pretty much dress like me, I exit a two hour thunderstorm to find a hot, humid August day, and I go to a drama school that, in the immortal words of Orange, encourages me to "have sex with everything that moves, and a whole bunch of things that don't". But with condoms.

Always with condoms.

Yes, kids. Pregnancy is no fun on student loans, and neither is AIDS. If that's my one theme of the evening, so be it. 'Cause you're all so good looking, I don't know how you can stand it.

Changing??? Or not...

So I'm finally at NYU, my last pick for college, but, surprisingly a choice that had surpassed the expectations that I even had for my #1 school. The people here are friendly, cool, and crazy (mentally insane- seriously). Before I entered into college I imagined myself to be walking down the halls of the Metropolitan Museum, Moma, Gugenheim, The Museum of Sex etc. looking at the paintings, expanding my mind, getting better acquainted with artsy people, and looking somewhat smart. But, for the strangest reason I find myself at clubs grinding with random ppl, the cloister cafe spending $8 on watered down vodka shots, and outside during the nights trying to woo (yes i said woo) the opposite sex. I've had urges. Think of anything you're imaginations will let you think of for a sec. But, urges to actually be learned. I want to study Russian history, and know everything about Ivan the terrible, and Catherine the Great, who apparently died from having sex with a horse (it's not true, but, it would've been cool if it was), I want to be able to write beautiful essays, prose, poetry that could match Shakespeare in imagery and Orwell in wit, I want to speak a language more fluently than a native have vocabulary that match a scholar of that language. Well, nothing turns out the way you want it ( most of the time, at least). It seems that I am turned at every corner to my parth with a concern for my image among my fellow mates. It seems I still have the necessity to dress a certain way, talk a certain way, and hang out a certain way to maintain the social status that I desire.

As I write this blog, i come upon the realization that I just suck at balancing my educational, personal, and social life. And i suck at just saying no to certain things. Or just saying no in general. I'm gonna have to start stepping up to the plate and doing the things that I said that I was going to do. I'm young, I've got heart, and I seem to be talking more than I'm walking. So let's live as each day were the last. (I'm talking to myself) I guess I'm inspiring myself as I write this, but yea, let's try and change! or not.... we'll have to see.

-Superman

It's a bird. It's a plane. It's Superman!

A warm welcome to our newest blogger, Superman. Hailing from the ghetto known as Long Island, he is ready to make his mark on our shitty gossipy blog.

Three cheers!

Much love,
Sexiled

You can be my Umbrella-ella-ella

So I was chillin' in the East Village when a huge downpour suddenly comes in. Me, being the smart person I am, checked the weather forcast this morning and saw that it was supposed to rain in the afternoon; I thought good, I won't have to bring my 30 lb hoody along. Lo and behold, it's 10:30 AM and it starts pouring. I start running back, but it seriously looked like I had just participated in a wet t-shirt contest. So here I am soaked and dripping everywhere (as are most of the others) cursing my luck for not having a damned umbrella, and plotting to sell ponchos made from Chutzpah's shower curtain (by the way, that didn't work, lo siento). After I shook the droplets of water from my glorious mane of blonde hair, I went upstairs, to do what else? Bother Emerald. That didn't get too far as she stopped me immediately, but I soon finished my homework.

The weather's supposed to be nice and chilly, I can't wait.

Achtung baby,
Penguin

Hapless while Hellish Homework Hungers

As a kid in high school, I honestly didn't try too hard. For some reason or another, every single kid in my school knew that. How? Who knows? Maybe my best friend secretly put a webcam in my room to make money off a peep-show here or there. But either way, I sure as hell never studied. I think I studied the most for AP Physics though (that would be a grand total of two hours, and that was right before the test, right after I had woken up. Smooth, I know) ; it's a real shame that my score was only a 2. And that was on Mechanics for Pete's sake. Typically, the tests I didn't study for I got a 5 on. Coincidence? I think not. Maybe I should sell my philosophy to one of those SAT prep things. I'm sure I'd make loads of cash.

Maybe ending up at NYU was a good thing for me. My parents had always wanted me to go to Harvard, but my own dream had been to go to Stanford (not like there's much difference, hah, but California's always nice :P). Of course, much like the rest of the class of 2012, I was raped anally by the college admissions process, but here I am! At a good school! In New York City, where I have lots of things to do.... like meet homeless people! Buy pot in the nearby park! And yes, even watch choreographed Star Wars duels. Yes, planned out Star Wars duels with those expensive lightsabers. Tell me that ain't awesome.

School's been easy, but rough to adjust to initially. I honestly started off with a really nice schedule, with mainly morning classes and a 3 1/2 day weekend. I was the envy of the party. A friend of mine, who's a dancer, has class for nearly nine hours. NINE HOURS. Holy shit. I don't know whether they're discussing Nietzche or Freud in Pilates class, but that seems a bit ridiculous. Either way, the homework for my classes have started to pile up. I mean, heck, it's nowhere near the AP English levels... yet (that would be around a 10-page essay weekly) but it might be getting there soon. I've actually started not to procrastinate, which was a big shock to everyone, including my roommates (those consummate procrastinators!) and my mother, who absolutely refused to believe I had stopped procrastinating. Times change, dontcha think?

Classes have been interesting, to say the least. My econ class looks more like a football game, we nearly watched softcore porn in Western Civ, and there was intellectual discourse (!) in my history class. After hearing about how supply-side works (by the way? It doesn't) I was sickened to the core, to the point where my eyelashes were curling up by themselves, but the liberalness of my history class made me wet. I think I'm still thanking the Lord that I don't have any science/math classes for my time here. Well, I should probably get to my all-nighter. I sure as hell know I'm not done here (and neither is Chutzpah, it seems :) )

Achtung baby,
Penguin

Floorcest...could it happen to you?

Here at 35 Fifth Ave, us Rubinites coexist in fairly close quarters. We eat together, study together, shop together, party together, and...sleep together? Nope. No, the fun stops here. It's all the rage and it's rampant; it's Floorcest. It's definitely convenient after a crazy night in the East Village or after sharing a cab home from that 18+ club, but is it worth the slew of awkward turtles that are sure to come your way the morning after? Us here at YTTTMHFSR say "No way Juan Carlos." Especially you Juan Carlos ;) Don't put your darling low cost triplemates in that desolate land of the Sexiled, especially if it's the friendly English major from down the hall that you met just last week. If you're desperate for action, don't hesitate to take a chance, explore other floors in our charming dorm! New and exciting people are just a flight of stairs away and if you're in the mood, don't forget to check out some of those mysterious explorations floors. One of my sources has also recommended the third floor, but that's certainly up to you if that's your thing. Another option, as we have recently experienced, is exploring a whole new dorm altogether! Yes, it's a little sketchy and you'll definitely need to make up a good excuse as to why you're creepin', but hey, what do you have to lose?

But back to my point, floorcest. If you choose to engage, say goodbye to those friendly pre-class waves and the occasional lunch buddy, they're gone. Is that what you're willing to sacrifice for one night of floorcest? I think not. Your floor is your family, just don't go there. It's brotherly and sisterly love, straight up. Enjoy your all nighters floor ten!

Check yo'self before you wreck yo'self,
Chutzpah

Lucy, I'm Home!

It is often said that "absence makes the heart grow fonder." After spending this weekend in various places other than The Village, I have found that this expression certainly holds true when it comes to NYU. I began the weekend by hopping on a train and heading home to spend the night. While I always enjoyed living in this typical suburbia, it is definitely nothing like the hustle and bustle of The City -- unfortunately. I woke up and quickly got into my car to drive nearly four hours north to Hanover, New Hampshire. While the town is what I suppose you could call "quaint" and "charming," it is also rather boring, something I've never said about New York. So I guess by spending a weekend away from 10003, I learned that there was a reason I chose to come to this school: it's right in the middle of the world's best city. Is it expensive? Yes. Loud? Definitely. Overwhelming? At times. But is it also fabulous? Duh!

Peace in the Middle East,

New Soul