You walk into Dewick and everything sucks. Now what?
A Very Hangry SWUGerpillar.
Dear A Very Hangry SWUGerpillar,
SWUGs have a love/hate relationship with Dewick, established circa 2011. Back when we sat on the relevancy throne, Dewick was our kingdom. We’d spend hours occupying a prime circle table in the normal room, getting up only to get more food and to establish our dominance as the rulers of the dining hall. We knew both the menu every day and the best times to secure a table before prime lunch time.
But now it’s a bit sad returning to our old kingdom. We’re nostalgic for the days when we knew everyone in the room and when our bodies could consistently handle large quantities of mass produced food. Now, as SWUGs, Dewick is scary. We find ourselves asking the hard questions, like: Who da SWUG are all of these people? Why have I never seen this people before? Where are my Reeses’ Puffs? Do I really need more food?
If you’re brave enough to return to the dining hall, you might as well make the most of it. It’s easy to complain about Dewick, but without a meal plan, I now realize how lucky we are to have all this food available at all times (and I don’t have to cook it)! Can’t find anything that looks appetizing? What a perfect time for a culinary adventure! Experiment with all the pre-made food. Make a nutella-stuffed waffle. Fashion a quesadilla. Grill a PB&J (but don’t kill anyone with a nut allergy). Make a pizza sandwich. Make an ice cream sandwich. Eat a salad! Stop complaining that you can’t find anything to eat. There are Tufts Wilderness students in Somerville who had to dumpster dive in the snow for their dinner.
But if it’s actually that lame of a Dewick day, you can always order Helen’s or take an Uber to Tenoch.
Tweet your SWUGgiest Dewick creations to @A_SWUGs_Life.
Stay hangry, stay foolish.
My hangovers have hit an all-time level of awfulness. What is happening to me!?
The Hangover part 4.
The Hangover part 4,
I feel your pain. We’re young enough that we still eagerly poison our bodies four times a week, old enough that we feel every last drop the next morning and poor enough that we can’t yet afford a $300 IV cocktail to cure us the next day. Hangovers are no longer merely a lingering headache that we laughed off and went to class with when we were 18. We’ve abused our bodies so much over the last four years that they are finally talking back to us, yelling, “PLEASE FOR SWUG SAKE STOP DRINKING TEQUILA!”
SWUGovers are now one to two day epic struggles, filled with Soundbites in bed, Netflix and regret. You’ll swear that you’ll give up drinking and that this will never happen again, but we all know that’s a lie. It’s Senior spring and the fun and tears have only just begun. Just wait until Spring Break, where hangovers meet the sun! If you’ve got a big night coming up (call on moi!?), plan accordingly. Take a PartySmart pill the night before, set a water alarm for 5 am to “CHUG SWUG CHUG”, and clear your calendar for the next 24-48 hours. SWUG we’re goin’ down swinging.