All posts by Nooz Staff

Oopsie! I Drank the Olin Library Water and Now I Glow in the Dark

After hitting a personal low in Olin Library (crying in the stacks for 3 straight hours), I decided to treat myself to some delicious, refreshing, and free water from the lovely little fountain in the basement.

I figured through sheer willpower alone, I could evade the inevitable disease that was indicated by the blaring red water filter sign before me. Little did I know, my natural defenses didn’t stand a chance against the hazardous waste brewing in the depths of Olin. Truth be told, I should have sucked it up and spent $3 at the Amit Bhatia Libe Cafe.

I first started to become concerned upon viewing the water, which was yellow, fizzing, and burning hot. I figured it was just the lighting that was skewing my perception of the water, and finished my entire Hydro Flask. The second red flag was the fact that the water tasted like freshly scooped dirt, but this too was a warning sign I ignored.

That night, when I turned off the lights to go to sleep, I noticed a most peculiar light emanating from underneath my sheets. Lo and behold, it was I. My skin was shining, dazzling, and blinding. It was at that moment that my worst fears were confirmed: the Olin slop had transformed me into some sort of bioluminescent creature. 

Never in my life have I been told that I “light up the room” more frequently now that I glow in the dark, thanks to the Olin Library “water.”

“I’ll Totally Be There!” and 5 Other Ways to Say “No” to Your Friend’s A Capella Concert

KLARMAN HALL— With the upcoming onslaught of finals and never-ending last minute assignments, when your friend hits you with  “My a capella group is having a concert this weekend, you’re definitely coming through, right?” the most immediate and resounding internal response is a shrieking, guttural “Dear God, no.” 

So how do you, unsuspecting and innocent, navigate your way out of this awful-hellscape and into any other Friday night activities? There are a few ways out of this fate, should you brave the course:

1. “I’ll totally be there!” 

It is, of course, always a safe move to just lie to them. It’s definitely not like they will have a check in at the auditorium on the night of the concert, and even if they did, who gives a shit? Definitely not your friend.

2. “Oh no! I have something that night 🙁 ” 

A classic excuse, the “I’m busy.” This is without a doubt a surefire way to get yourself right on out of there, and right into some stinky frat basement. Pepper in the frowny face for some extra flavor, and kiss that sweet, sweet music goodbye. 

3. “I’ll definitely let you know.” 

Ah yes, delay the inevitable. If you put off telling your friend whether you can make it to their concert or not, word on the street is, the concert will eventually happen. Feel free to leave your friend in limbo for all eternity, and just like that, you’re out clean!

4. “Yes!” 

This one is a good bet if you’re looking for simplicity. A lie with no strings attached, a simple agreement can save you further conversation in the present, and you need only offer a confusion of dates in the aftermath. 

5. “Maybe” 

Again, an in-between place is a very nice place to start. Definitely hit your friend with that maybe, and then never, ever clarify your presence. It’s best, really, this state of confusion一no one gets hurt. 

6. “My other friend actually has a concert that night too” 

Ah yes, an a capella salvation. What can save you except the hell you have been damned to in the first place. If you cannot go to their concert, it must only be because you have another dear friend to support. Just like that you are saved, and you are glorious. 

Aww! Three Generations of Cornellians Come Together to Psychologically Abuse the Shit out of BU Hockey Team

Nothing says Thanksgiving like joining friends, parents, and grandparents for a wholesome night of pure, unfiltered bullying! This evening Lynah Faithful will flock to Madison Square Garden to inflict permanent psychological damage upon the Boston University hockey team—a demonstration of the Cornell community’s admirable closeness and warmth. 

“I look forward to bringing my family every year,” beamed alum Larry Walker ‘92. “There’s just something so beautiful about 1000 Cornellians, old and young, chanting in choir-like unison to inform the opposing goalie of his profound resemblance to Squidward, President Pollack, and the Low Rise 7 goblin-rat.”

Just in case verbal assault doesn’t do the trick, Cornellians have prop-packs prepared to remind the Massachusetts safety school of its place. Among the included items are newspapers (to read while BU is being announced, and to chuck at adjacent BU fans afterward); keys (to signal BU that they may warm up their bus, as their asses have been sufficiently whooped); and plush terriers on stakes (to light on fire for maximum PTSD).

“It’ll be my grandchildren’s first hockey game,” said alum Beatrice Appel ‘67. “They’re so excited to burn the terriers, behead the terriers, and throw the terriers’ charred remains onto the ice!”

At press time, it was still uncertain whether Appel’s grandchildren, aged 3 and 4, were referring to the team members or the plushies—or whether it mattered.

“Why Are You Drinking a Glass of Milk at a Party?” and Five Other Questions for the Guy Drinking a Glass of Milk at a Party

You know the situation. It’s Friday night and you’re on your shit, really vibing after a stressful week. The rest of the room is right there with you, alcoholic beverage in hand as they let the worries of the real world melt away. Everyone seems to be unified in action and intent. Well, almost everyone.

Eventually it dawns on you that there’s one guy who seems a little out of place. He’s not really talking with anyone, he’s not going out and dancing. He seems to sort of just… be there, standing off in the corner by himself. It’s not even really awkward, just a little unnerving. He scrolls his phone casually, sometimes glancing around the room while he takes a sip from his cup.

But then you realize: that’s not a cup, that’s a glass. Seems a little fancy for the setting, no? And—wait, that drink is white! That’s gotta be milk, right? What the hell is going on?!

We’ve all been there. To help make sense of it all, here are a few questions you can ask to get to the bottom of things.

 

  1. Is that milk? First off, it’s important to clarify that he is indeed drinking milk. Imagine how foolish you would feel if you presumed the beverage to be milk when, in actuality, he was indulging in a large glass of eggnog or a particularly opaque limeade? That baseline has to be established first and foremost.
  2. Is there any alcohol in there? Once you’ve confirmed the libation’s lactic nature, you can ask if it’s something like a White Russian. It would still be kinda weird but at least would fit the setting better.
  3. Did you bring a gallon of milk or just this one glass? You want to gauge their level of commitment to the milk. However, be aware that the answer is pretty definitely going to be at least one gallon, possibly more.
  4. If you could drink the milk of any mammal, what would it be and why? It’s a good conversation starter that also doubles as a screen for sociopaths, so this is really like asking two questions for the price of one. We’ve heard good things about llama milk if he returns the question and you need a response in a pinch.
  5. Can I have a glass of milk, pretty please? Once you’ve earned their trust and screened their sanity, you’re finally safe to reveal your true intentions and request that sweet, sweet party milk.

Class Traitor? Classmate Didn’t Give Me A 100% On Our Peer Graded Quiz

BAILEY HALL—This past Tuesday, in what has been a most shocking act of sabotage and treachery, Isabella Palacio 23’ received a less than a perfect score on her peer graded assessment at the hands of her classmate-turned-archnemesis Toby Grimes 22’.  

“I’m on the edge of tears just talking about it,” remarked Palacio, clearly fighting back some kind of emotional breakdown. “I mean, I just didn’t see it coming. We have sat in the same row in this auditorium for months now, we might as well be roommates. Last week, our backpacks even grazed against each other as we were leaving. I just cannot believe he betrayed me like that after all we have been through together.”  

With the knife still fresh in her back, Palacio was able to stumble out of the class without facing too much humiliation from her professor and peers. Witnesses described the situation between the two as a “heartbreaking example of raw humanity.” But even this devastation could not sway Palacio’s cold and unfeeling classmate.  

“Before Tuesday, I had literally never seen this girl in my entire life,” Grimes defended. “Besides, I thought we were supposed to grade truthfully, and I am a man of my word. This chick needs to be held accountable for her misunderstanding of Bayes Rule, as I am sure this economic principle will be critical to her future. How could I let her go in good conscience knowing that she doesn’t understand how to calculate p?”

The scene between Grimes and Palacio evidently left its mark. The subsequent Ed discussion had Grimes listed in a wanted ad, with a petition for his immediate expulsion and removal from the class for “the ultimate kiss of Judas, but not in a sexy way.”

It Happened to Me: I Took a 9 PM Nap and Now I’m a Scurrying Little Rat Creature Who Flees the Sun

Readers, I was once like you. I was a normal student who knew the feeling of the sun on my face and the agony of an 8 am discussion. Then, one day, as I made my 8:45 pm journey to 7/11 for my nightly snack-dinner of beef jerky and Mountain Dew Code Red, I felt the siren call of my bed, a mere eight minutes away down the nearest seventy-five degree incline hill. “Truly, I hunger for sleep more than any man has hungered before,” I mused, “but with a workload such as mine I couldn’t possibly go to bed for the night.” That is when a man clad in a trenchcoat and low-brimmed hat emerged from the shadowy little courtyard… alley… -thing by the UPS store.

“Hey, kid,” he hissed. “I heard you want some sleep?”

“Well, yes,” I replied, startled by his sudden appearance, but hoping that by engaging him in conversation I could get him to add me on LinkedIn, “but it is too early for me to retire.”

At that the strange man began to chuckle. “‘Retire’? Kid, I got the kind of stuff that’ll get that essay done in no time.”

“Really?” I enquired, intrigued. Could his claims possibly be true?

“It’s called a nap. You tuck yourself in at 9 pm, catch a few z’s, and then bada-bing bada boom, you get up at 9:30 feeling ready to work. All the cool kids are doing it.”

All the cool kids?” I thought about all the attractive students who paraded their “Remove Before Flight” keychains about the engineering quad. Could the secret to moving myself up from working as Squeaky the Children’s Birthday Clown during the summer to working in a Fortune 500 company really be as simple as a 9 pm nap?

“All of them,” he assured me. “Trust me, kid, one taste and you’ll be coming back for more.” 

“I suppose one nap couldn’t hurt…” I ventured.

The man began to laugh, “Heh! Believe me, kid, you’ll be surprised at all the things a nap can do for you.” Then, he vanished into the shadows faster than my hopes of academic success during prelim season. 

Thus resolved, I made my way homewards, stopping only to wolf down my 7/11 beef jerky (either my first or seventh meal of the day, depending on your definition of “meal”). As soon as I reached my apartment I collapsed into my bed. “Just a quick thirty minutes,” I vowed, “and then I shall resume work again.” This was the last I thought before my world faded to blackness.

Sometime later, I awoke, tangled in my bedsheets and drenched in sweat. My mind was in a state of utter confusion. If it was the morning, why was it so dark? And why was I filled with the terrible dread that was only caused by failing yet another important assignment? I flailed for my phone, and what I saw caused me to bolt awake. It was not in fact 9:30 pm as the man in the alley had promised, but two in the morning! 

“That scoundrel lied to me!” I swore. Then reason tamed my anger: “If I am already failing my liberal arts class, I may as well return to sleep,” I decided. But slumber eluded me. My 9 pm nap had provided me with more energy than any one of my fourteen hour depression sleep marathons. It wasn’t until day had broken that fatigue claimed my body once more. When I awoke again to darkness, I knew I had entered a cycle with no escape.

This is my life now. From dusk till dawn I scamper freely across campus, doing spineless rat person things like chewing electrical wires and joining consulting clubs. Then come morning I flee to the blessed release of sleep while cursing the wretched sun that blinds my rodent eyes. Reader, I beg of you, remember this: If nap you must, set an alarm, lest you never know the sweetness of day again.

Gross! Roommate Has One Of Those Light-Up Incel Keyboards

CLARA DICKSON HALL—As students across campus are feeling more settled in their dorms, many roommates have revealed themselves to be involuntarily celibate via their choice of techware. One of the most telling and most common of these is the sad, and concerningly sticky, rainbow light-up keyboard.

“At first I saw the colors and I thought it meant that he was an LGBT or something,” describes Cayden Knowles ‘25, “But then I saw his anime titty mouse-pad, and then I remembered that he had told me he was in the engineering school… and I started putting the pieces together, and the puzzle I created was a sick portrait of a deeply disturbed individual.”

However, identifying that your roommate is an incel is not always this easy. Oftentimes cues can be overlooked as just “guy talk,” as Blain Fergouson ‘25 explains, “My roommate kept throwing around the word ‘femoid,’ and I thought it was just another way to degrade women, but it turns out he wasn’t getting tail while he was doing it. Like, dude, just keep those thoughts in your head like the rest of us and you’ll get some.”

Concerned and disgusted students will be happy to hear that Cornell will be adding a “favorite movie” question on its application in future years, blacklisting “Taxi Driver,” “American Psycho,” “Joker,” or other Incel-ian films for all male applicants.

Diversity Win! One Person in Your Orientation Group is Not From Long Island

GOLDWIN SMITH HALL — Freshman Ricky Harrison sat down in a circle on the floor with his new classmates to play icebreakers and exchange basic information, expecting to hear all about his fellow Long Islanders’ opinions on the travel time to Ithaca, and whether Louie’s Lunch was as good as the tamale stand at the corner of 11th and 45th. To his surprise, Marissa Sheldon across the circle did not say her hometown was Long Island, New York, but she was from somewhere else entirely.

“At first I was like, is that some neighborhood in Queens?” Harrison said while attempting to find Sheldon’s hometown, Scarsdale, on Google Maps. “And then I realized she wasn’t from Long Island at all, which like, whoa, you know? I didn’t think I’d meet someone who lived more than 50 miles from me that quickly!” Talk about progress!

Sheldon is one of at least four students, potentially more, who were born and raised outside of Long Island – a small, but rapidly growing minority on campus. “I’m so excited to be a part of such a diverse community at Cornell,” she said. “We might have grown up in a huge variety of place, but at the end of the day we’re all unified by the Big Red spirit, even if we’re all from different parts of New York.”

Harrison is looking forward to Sheldon’s efforts in creating the Cornell Association for Undergraduates from Westchester County, and potentially meeting people from other parts of the tri-state area.

Ten Zany Lines to Say at Your In-Person Icebreakers That Will Have Everyone Wishing They Could Go Back Into Quarantine

Hey, you! Yes, you, you nervous, wide-eyed, naive frosh! I bet you’re thinking right now about how you can impress your entire orientation group with a cool Icebreaker that’ll have the whole mandatory orientation group voluntarily nodding and laughing!

Well, STOP thinking about that. Icebreakers are about one thing: survival. You either escape the orientation group with absolutely no one remembering you, or you have the entire group telling their actual friends about that one fuck-up who thought they were the shit. Let that be somebody else. Everybody is finally interacting with other human beings for the first time in, like, two years. Do you really want to be the cringey blowhard that makes everyone mutter under their breath “God, put me back into fucking lockdown.”

So what can you do? Whatever you decide to say when you’re talking about your summer vacation or your family, DON’T say any of these. Wait until some other asshole says one of these, and then just calmly say, “Get a load of this guy!”

  1. “Oh, yeah, my older brother was actually the President of one of the frats that got banned.”

Oh, yeah, that’ll really impress all the girls in the group, you creep.

 

2. “Wow, this campus is awesome. I’m so glad Dad is paying for all this.”

Way to make yourself relatable to 0.1% of people in America (which, in all fairness, will probably be a good part of your orientation group at Cornell). 

 

3. “Oh hey everyone, guess we don’t have to unmute anymore!”

Get it? Because of the pandemic we all just went through? And how we all had to be on Zoom? Comedic genius here, everybody!

 

4. “My intended major? Partying!”

You could just say “Business” and everyone would be equally unimpressed.

 

5. “Oh, I had an awesome vacation in Hawaii, even though the natives were a bit upset that we were there.”

Holy fuck, are you here for the School of Colonial Administration?

 

6. “But the state schools don’t really count as Cornell, right?”

You seem more comfortable on some elitist college subreddit than you do interacting with other human beings. 

 

7. “That building we just passed? Yeah, that’s my last name too, haha.”

Slow down there, buddy. Next thing you know you’re gonna be detained by the FBI agent who was undercover in your orientation group.

 

8. “My favorite Cornell alumni has to be Andy Bernard!”

You did it! You are the billionth person to make that joke, and you’ve won a special prize: utter social ostracization.

 

9. “This was such a great orientation group! We should all hang out again in the future!”

That was the first funny thing you’ve said all tour.

 

10. “I didn’t get the vaccine.”

Save this one to the end of the tour to have everyone really in hysterics.

 

How to Network with People Who Will One Day Be Interviewed in the Documentary About Your Tragic Downfall

Career sites are full of advice for networking in your chosen field, but what about the girl who wants a little extra? You know, like making a professional connection who will one day stare hollow-eyed into the camera as they recount all the missed signs that you were headed down a path of violent self-destruction. Just follow these tips and before you know it you’ll be the subject of a documentary so fascinating you’ll forget you’re serving twenty to life.

Hype yourself up. Confidence is key to making a good first impression. Practice giving yourself the same steely glare you will soon give the journalist who threatened to expose your business practices moments before the hitman you hired strikes true. Remember, everyone who laughed at you will be sorry!

Wear a novelty tie. They’ll be sure to remember how young, how carefree you looked in that banana print tie! What hideous deeds have replaced that earnest smile with the stone-cold frown of a killer? Everyone who knows has been permanently relocated to the bottom of the Mississippi, but wouldn’t the viewers love to find out.

Overpromise and underdeliver. Be sure to drop key phrases like “My morals are important” and “I would never grease my machine with the blood of orphans to save two cents per thousand parts.” Your fellow networkers will be sure to tell the director they had no idea such an upstanding member of society could operate an underground orphan juicing factory.

Attend Dyson. Where else are you going to find such high-quality orphan juicers?