Tuesday, August 28, 2007
The Hottest Houses
FalloniusMonk was kind enough to forward on this dipshit Newsweek ranking of "the hottest colleges" in America, because FINALLY Smith takes a lead spot in rankings. Okay, so we're stagnating at the bottom of the top 20 in U.S. News and World Report's liberal arts college rankings (number 19 two years running...WOO HOO!), and this Newsweek ranking also included categories like "Hottest Liberal Arts College You've Never Heard Of" (Centenary College of Louisiana) and "Hottest for No SAT or ACT Needed" (Bates College), but SO WHAT? Finally Smith is tops at something and not just ugly LUGs (lesbians until graduation).
According to the article, Smith is the "Hottest Woman's College" (and HELLO, people, it's woMEN's--as in plural--not woMAN'S). My alma mater earned this distinction, not because of the precious few hot women actually matriculating there, but because "students who prefer a coed college change their minds when they see the cottage-style houses Smith students reside in." The Smith admissions department propaganda could not have said it any better.
When I went to Smith, it was actually because I didn't get into Harvard and I had been super lesbish in high school, but that didn't stop Smith from endlessly crowing about their awesome housing system. Basically, Smith houses were like sororities without the pledging. They were "self-governed" (ie: electing a powerless cabinet, including officials with lofty titles like "Energy Czarina"--that was the bitch who turned off lights left on), and looked more like fancy manor houses than dorms. All the houses also got their own reputations for attracting different types of people. Since they're so fucking "hot," I might as well explain a little about these charming "cottage-style" abodes which dissuade bitches from their preferred coed experience.
Albright House
In my experience, Albright was one of the lamest houses on campus. LL Cool Jew was once brought up on bogus sexual harassment charges from some dumb, crazy bitch who lived there, and when I was back for my two-year reunion, that's where the alumnae association placed me. In the course of our group of friends' revelry, we managed to piss off every Smith bitch still living there. They complained to us about how our smoking was bad for their asthma, and once we established hostile relations (ie: Motherbucker blew a heavy drag off an American Spirit in the face of Asthma Girl), they started bitching to everyone who would listen. The night before these hos graduated from college, instead of partying and celebrating like they should have been, they were holed up having a meeting about what a bunch of assholes they thought we were. I happened to pass by on my way back from buying more mixers and cigarettes and overheard their heated debate. "That one woman blew smoke in my face!" one indignantly said. "And another one had sex all night long yesterday...with a MALE!" Being that I was the alumna having the offending heterosexual sex (yes, I managed to get laid with a random dude at my women's college reunion...I'm a player...all I gotta do is flirt with him and I get them drawers), and I was eavesdropping with the dude who I was boning, we high-fived and elected to make our passions even louder that night. I think we actually broke the bed. Anyway, those bitches actually had Smith Public Safety throw us out for "bolsterous" behavior, and they permanently cemented my assertion that Albright is LAME. In Albright's defense, however, I did pop my anal cherry there when I was staying in some bitch's room during spring break my junior year. That's probably the coolest thing that has ever gone down within that den of uptight virgins.
Baldwin House
Ah, Baldwin. Albright's neighbor and sister in lameness. That's basically all I know about Baldwin. I never went to a party there, or knew any bitches that lived there. It may as well not exist, but I guess they have to put the hookers with no personalities (even by Smith standards) somewhere.
Capen House
All I know about Capen was that the newspaper editor my sophomore year lived there, and there was some kind of insanely dramatic incestuous lesbian drama going on up in that "example of classical revivalist architecture." Apparently it wasn't all the paper snowflake making and organizing apple-picking trips that the Smith website says Capenites get up to.
Chapin House
I went to a party at Chapin House one time, for no good reason except that there was nothing going on all night. I left almost immediately because the dumb bitch behind the bar wouldn't serve me (I was underage but SO? It's college!) and I responded with some typical Razzy profanity-laden sass. Then I think I tried to get my boyfriend Benzo to get me a drink, and dumb bitch behind the bar wasn't having that. When we left to go use my fake ID at a bar, dumb bitch was in tears crying to her friend about how I was a great big bitch. A rockin' party, if I do say so myself.
Chase House
Chase is the seniors-only house, where hookers move if they don't like whatever house they're in and don't luck out with a Friedman apartment. LL Cool Jew lived there her senior year, and even though she's cool and promptly sought out all the other cool people around, she still managed to have problems with some bitch who said she was too noisy. LL Cool Jew spent most of her senior year writing a thesis about the literary achievements of Graham Greene, which I'm sure was more raucous noise than the even nerdier twat down the hall could possibly manage. I mean, how is she supposed to finish her Fulbright application with LL Cool Jew noisily underlining passages out of The Quiet American right down the hall?
Comstock House
And finally we get to a Quad house. The Quadrangle is 10 houses arranged in accordance with their name, around a central courtyard. The Quad is what passes for the "party houses" at Smith, and "Quad Bunnies" are the booze-swilling, frat boy-banging hotties that live there and garner disdain from snotty bitches elsewhere on campus. Comstock's claim to fame is an annual party called the "Get Lei'd" party, in which everyone gets a lei, which you lose if you say "no" for any reason. The party was a lot less exciting than its name implied, but at least they weren't stingy with the keg beer.
Cushing House
Also a Quad house, Cushing faced the house I lived in (see Awesomest Smith House Ever AKA Jordan House, below). Cushing housed the least attractive women in the Quad, and alongside Gardiner and Morrow houses, the least remarkable.
Cutter House
An architectural blight on the ivy-covered brick New Englandyness that is Smith's general theme, Cutter is a post-modern monstrosity that looks like it belongs in an industrial park in 1974. The rooms inside have linoleum floors, fluorescent lighting, and cinder block walls reminiscent of a state-funded mental ward. The first week of my first year, some fugly lezbot invited me over to her room at Cutter for what I hoped would be beer drinking fun, but my hopes were quickly dashed when she handed me a cup of chamomile tea, cranked the Melissa Ferrick, and asked if I played chess. Needless to say, no fingerbanging went down that night. I never went back to visit anyone living in Cutter ever again.
Dawes House
Dawes is super cute, has a full kitchen for student use, and everyone there has a single room, but there is one little catch: it also goes by "La Maison Francaise." As much as I'd have liked the accommodations, there's no way I could have tolerated French flag decorations everywhere. Furthermore, there's the added problem that I don't speak any French apart from "hors d'oeuvres" and "merde," and fluency in French is a requisite for living there.
Duckett House
Duckett is connected to Chase House, but the only thing I know about it is that it has an elevator, and for some reason, there were always panel discussions happening there in the dining room. For example, the Bitches Who Hate the WTO would have "anti-globalization" lunches and shit there. Obviously, I never managed to make it to one of those shindigs.
Emerson House
Emerson was right next to the house where I lived, and we were connected to them. There were some cool girls in Emerson who used to come party on the Jordan second floor with me and my crew (I actually made an amateur porn with two of them, and NO I'm not posting that here), and there were also some seriously uptight snatches. To seek vengeance, I stole a couch out of their hall sitting room for my dorm, and the night before I graduated, gave the illicit couch to some townies drinking from our illicit keg to throw off the roof. They almost hit a Public Safety cruiser with it. Another time, this girl in my house pulled their fire alarm at 3 a.m. to get back at them for making noise complaints about our house. They were so pissed. It was awesome.
Friedman Apartments
The Friedmans were the only campus apartments, and they were in high demand. Girls would flip out over whether or not they could secure a Friedman. I had a few friends who lived in Friedmans, and there were some kickass parties there for sure. One time I walked into a friend's birthday party at Friedman B-2, and she greeted me at the door in a pair of devil horns and on so much Ecstasy that she looked like one of those people from the "Black Hole Sun" video. She proceeded to greet me with one of the sloppiest, most tongue-filled kisses I've ever received, and then put a drink in my hand. Good times. Friedman residence, however, didn't guarantee that you weren't going to be an impossibly lame typical Smith hag. At my two-year-reunion, we got kicked out of some fat, mustachioed, Fuzzy Navel-drinking bitch's Friedman because my ex-boyfriend Benzo's stepbrother Nate Dogg was harassing her...AKA talking shit about Smith girls because he went to VASSAR. Only at Smith does that get you ejected from a party.
Gardiner House
Gardiner was a real pearls-and-penny loafers type of Smith house, and even though they were in the Quad, they were notorious for their elitist, buttoned-up, WASPy residents. They actually even tried to start a sorority and hung up their letters on their second floor bay window. In response, I started a fraternity my junior year and hung up our letters in the Jordan House window facing Gardiner. I chose the Pi Kappa Epsilon frat, because the Pikes were notorious for date rape and vicious hazing and other egregious fratty violations. For an entire year, I had my PKE letters fixed firmly upon my door, and I think I even drew them on my arm one time for a Gardiner House party. Whether the bitches at Gardiner got it or not is unclear, but they were nonetheless displeased that I'd chosen to make light of what they thought was a brilliant idea. Because a Smith sorority is a great idea...if there's one thing Smith needs more of, it's cadres of stupid bitches reveling in their exclusivity.
Gillett House
I actually know nothing about Gillett House. It's yet another unremarkable bitch trap.
Haven/Wesley House
It's where would-be internet-mediated rape facilitator TEJ BINDRA lived, and I think that says it all. An interesting piece of trivia about the room where Tej lived is that my friend Wmania once vomited Kahlua and Bailey's all over it. Oh, and Sylvia Plath lived there too.
Hopkins House
I know absolutely nothing about Hopkins House, either. Dumb, boring bitch repository!
Hubbard House
Again, dumb, boring bitch repository! The best thing they've got going for them is that Julia Child lived there at the turn of the century, or whenever the hell in antiquity it was that she went to Smith.
Jordan House (AKA AWESOMEST SMITH HOUSE EVER)
Guess where I lived all four years at Smith? Only the most notorious party house at Smith in the history of the college. When I would tell people, "I live in Jordan," I'd get this knowing look, that was full of "oh, you must be a drunk" judgment, concern that I might become unhinged at any moment, and hushed awe. When I first got to Smith, Jordan was on social probation because the year before, the house president's boyfriend (a member of the Holyoke, MA chapter of the Latin Kings) orchestrated an epic Sharks v. Jets battle in the second floor hallway with a group of white trash Masshole townies. My ex-boyfriend was there, and he had taken refuge in this girl's room (where I think she gave him a blowjob), and he said you could feel the walls shake as bodies slammed up against it in the hall. On that legendary night, crack was smoked in the bathroom and somebody had a gun. By Smith standards, that is INSANITY. Nothing of that caliber happened during my time, but we still had ridiculous parties, used the entire second floor as our personal smoking lounge, employed a drug dealer as our kitchen guy, hired strippers for senior banquet parties, and drew the ire of feminist students and faculty alike for hosting a degrading "Pimps and Hos"-themed party. Jordan House rocked the tits off Smith College back in my day, and hopefully it's still doing so without apology.
King House
King was one of those Quad houses that tried (and failed) to give Jordan a run for its money in the party department. I think FalloniusMonk lived there, too, so props to King House.
Lamont House
Lamont is about as exciting as the department store in Puyallup that shares its name (or used to...I think Lamont's is Gottschalks now, but either way, it's still a clearinghouse for the world's ugliest Liz Claiborne rayon blouses). Even by Smith's abysmally low standards, Lamont was known as a dweeb colony.
Lawrence House
I don't even remember where this veritable pit of fug was on campus. That's how insignificant the prostitutes were that lived there.
Morris House
See what I just said about Lawrence House.
Morrow House
Morrow was the most despicable house in the Quad. The bitches there were super uptight, and no fun at all. They didn't have parties because nobody came to them, on account of their policy toward serving minors, their horrible DJs, and their bad attitudes. They also refused to participate in Quad Riot several years running (Quad Riot was an annual drunken food fight), and I became their number one enemy when I declared them "Worst of the Quad" in my newspaper column and called them pussies. Stupid bitches. That's what you get for living in a house named after the trust fund wife of a famous aviator and mother of a famous kidnapped baby...your legacy is about as storied and admirable as Anne Morrow Lindbergh's career of marriage and babymaking.
Northrop House
Northrop House? There was a Northrop House?
Park House
I knew a couple girls in Park House, but my most significant memory of a Park slut was that of this chick who lived down the hall from me's girlfriend emerging one night at 11 o'clock precisely to tell us all that it was quiet hours and time for us to go to bed, because she had crew practice the next morning at five. I got all up in her face with my friend Martindale, who was an intimidating bruiser from Long Island, and we told her that if her beauty sleep was so fucking important, then "take your ass back to Park House. We know it's quiet there." I'm not sure that horse-faced bitch ever slept over again.
Parsons House
I also don't remember where Parsons House was. I think it was somewhere behind the Friedmans, but I can't be sure.
Scales House
My friend JerseyGirl and her crew brought Scales House to a level of party prominence almost on par with Jordan's. They had this platform where it was all 90210 and bong hits, all the time. Scales House was the dope shit in JerseyGirl's era.
Sessions House
Lesbian orgy, anyone? Sessions was ground zero for all BDOCs (big dykes on campus), and I'll never forget that during my first year, this girl from my floor said that she regularly attended these lesbo sex parties there. That sounds kind of fun...except when you account for what the average Smith BDOC looks like and acts like. I can imagine that they somehow managed to take a normally fun orgy and turn it into an exhibition of overcompensatory macho posturing on par with a swordfight in a frat house.
Talbot House
Talbot used to have this party called "Immorality" that was immoral in name only. The one time I went, they ran out of alcohol, wouldn't let anyone in because of concerns regarding the fire code, and seemed determined to prevent anyone from having any fun at all. It's immoral, in my book, to have a party dedicated to immorality in which all depravity is squashed before it can even begin. LL Cool Jew once wrote a joke column in the paper called "The Gay Agenda," in which she detailed the daily schedule of your average Smith dyke. An item on this was "7:30 p.m.-Insert tattered copy of Bound into Talbot House VCR. Masturbate gloomily." That says it all for Talbot House.
Tenney House
I think Tenney was where all the vegans lived. They had a vegetarian-only kitchen or something. Obviously I never hung out there.
Tyler House
A lot of jocks live in Tyler because it was close to the athletic fields and gym. KatieScarlett lived there her first year, and she and I initially bonded over laughing about her housemate and my biology 101 classmate, this girl named Annie Prickett. She was from Delaware, was obsessed with horses, looked like a strapping young farm boy, and always introduced herself as "Annie...PrickETT!" Her dream was to become a horse breeder and KatieScarlett and I had a lot of fun laughing about her life's ambition to spend her working years with her arm stuck in a horse's ass up to the elbow. KatieScarlett's rugby girlfriend once had snowballs thrown at her by Annie Prickett on the way to Senior Ball (because Annie would have much rather built a snow fort than attend a semi-formal) and apparently went after Annie screaming, "You threw a snowball at my fucking dress, you stank whore!" Annie skedaddled into Tyler House legend.
Washburn House
I smoked pot with some hippie chick from one of my humanities classes there once. Oh, and they had a computer lab in the house, I think.
Wilder House
I went to a rugby party in the basement of Wilder once, and after watching a bunch of burly rugger dykes tear apart 15 large pizzas and drink Killian's Red out of their dirty cleats, I left stepping over various lesbian couples going to second base on my way out. Wilder's aight in my book.
Wilson House
One of my weed dealers lived in Wilson House. When she graduated, she filled her bathtub with forties and rolled 100 joints, and I only vaguely remember being at that party. In fact, I can't think of a single time I was in Wilson House that I wasn't more stoned than a white chick with dreadlocks and a backless shirt at a Phish show. I'm sure it was fun, but Wilson House is a blur to me.
Ziskind House
See "Cutter House" above for commentary on Ziskind's hideous asylum-style architectural features and equally crazy residents.
And there they are...the hottest houses. With domiciles like these, it's hardly a surprise Smith rocketed to the top of Newsweek's Hottest Colleges rankings. Watch out, Wellesley...we're coming for your cushy spot on the U.S. News and World Report next!
According to the article, Smith is the "Hottest Woman's College" (and HELLO, people, it's woMEN's--as in plural--not woMAN'S). My alma mater earned this distinction, not because of the precious few hot women actually matriculating there, but because "students who prefer a coed college change their minds when they see the cottage-style houses Smith students reside in." The Smith admissions department propaganda could not have said it any better.
When I went to Smith, it was actually because I didn't get into Harvard and I had been super lesbish in high school, but that didn't stop Smith from endlessly crowing about their awesome housing system. Basically, Smith houses were like sororities without the pledging. They were "self-governed" (ie: electing a powerless cabinet, including officials with lofty titles like "Energy Czarina"--that was the bitch who turned off lights left on), and looked more like fancy manor houses than dorms. All the houses also got their own reputations for attracting different types of people. Since they're so fucking "hot," I might as well explain a little about these charming "cottage-style" abodes which dissuade bitches from their preferred coed experience.
Albright House
In my experience, Albright was one of the lamest houses on campus. LL Cool Jew was once brought up on bogus sexual harassment charges from some dumb, crazy bitch who lived there, and when I was back for my two-year reunion, that's where the alumnae association placed me. In the course of our group of friends' revelry, we managed to piss off every Smith bitch still living there. They complained to us about how our smoking was bad for their asthma, and once we established hostile relations (ie: Motherbucker blew a heavy drag off an American Spirit in the face of Asthma Girl), they started bitching to everyone who would listen. The night before these hos graduated from college, instead of partying and celebrating like they should have been, they were holed up having a meeting about what a bunch of assholes they thought we were. I happened to pass by on my way back from buying more mixers and cigarettes and overheard their heated debate. "That one woman blew smoke in my face!" one indignantly said. "And another one had sex all night long yesterday...with a MALE!" Being that I was the alumna having the offending heterosexual sex (yes, I managed to get laid with a random dude at my women's college reunion...I'm a player...all I gotta do is flirt with him and I get them drawers), and I was eavesdropping with the dude who I was boning, we high-fived and elected to make our passions even louder that night. I think we actually broke the bed. Anyway, those bitches actually had Smith Public Safety throw us out for "bolsterous" behavior, and they permanently cemented my assertion that Albright is LAME. In Albright's defense, however, I did pop my anal cherry there when I was staying in some bitch's room during spring break my junior year. That's probably the coolest thing that has ever gone down within that den of uptight virgins.
Baldwin House
Ah, Baldwin. Albright's neighbor and sister in lameness. That's basically all I know about Baldwin. I never went to a party there, or knew any bitches that lived there. It may as well not exist, but I guess they have to put the hookers with no personalities (even by Smith standards) somewhere.
Capen House
All I know about Capen was that the newspaper editor my sophomore year lived there, and there was some kind of insanely dramatic incestuous lesbian drama going on up in that "example of classical revivalist architecture." Apparently it wasn't all the paper snowflake making and organizing apple-picking trips that the Smith website says Capenites get up to.
Chapin House
I went to a party at Chapin House one time, for no good reason except that there was nothing going on all night. I left almost immediately because the dumb bitch behind the bar wouldn't serve me (I was underage but SO? It's college!) and I responded with some typical Razzy profanity-laden sass. Then I think I tried to get my boyfriend Benzo to get me a drink, and dumb bitch behind the bar wasn't having that. When we left to go use my fake ID at a bar, dumb bitch was in tears crying to her friend about how I was a great big bitch. A rockin' party, if I do say so myself.
Chase House
Chase is the seniors-only house, where hookers move if they don't like whatever house they're in and don't luck out with a Friedman apartment. LL Cool Jew lived there her senior year, and even though she's cool and promptly sought out all the other cool people around, she still managed to have problems with some bitch who said she was too noisy. LL Cool Jew spent most of her senior year writing a thesis about the literary achievements of Graham Greene, which I'm sure was more raucous noise than the even nerdier twat down the hall could possibly manage. I mean, how is she supposed to finish her Fulbright application with LL Cool Jew noisily underlining passages out of The Quiet American right down the hall?
Comstock House
And finally we get to a Quad house. The Quadrangle is 10 houses arranged in accordance with their name, around a central courtyard. The Quad is what passes for the "party houses" at Smith, and "Quad Bunnies" are the booze-swilling, frat boy-banging hotties that live there and garner disdain from snotty bitches elsewhere on campus. Comstock's claim to fame is an annual party called the "Get Lei'd" party, in which everyone gets a lei, which you lose if you say "no" for any reason. The party was a lot less exciting than its name implied, but at least they weren't stingy with the keg beer.
Cushing House
Also a Quad house, Cushing faced the house I lived in (see Awesomest Smith House Ever AKA Jordan House, below). Cushing housed the least attractive women in the Quad, and alongside Gardiner and Morrow houses, the least remarkable.
Cutter House
An architectural blight on the ivy-covered brick New Englandyness that is Smith's general theme, Cutter is a post-modern monstrosity that looks like it belongs in an industrial park in 1974. The rooms inside have linoleum floors, fluorescent lighting, and cinder block walls reminiscent of a state-funded mental ward. The first week of my first year, some fugly lezbot invited me over to her room at Cutter for what I hoped would be beer drinking fun, but my hopes were quickly dashed when she handed me a cup of chamomile tea, cranked the Melissa Ferrick, and asked if I played chess. Needless to say, no fingerbanging went down that night. I never went back to visit anyone living in Cutter ever again.
Dawes House
Dawes is super cute, has a full kitchen for student use, and everyone there has a single room, but there is one little catch: it also goes by "La Maison Francaise." As much as I'd have liked the accommodations, there's no way I could have tolerated French flag decorations everywhere. Furthermore, there's the added problem that I don't speak any French apart from "hors d'oeuvres" and "merde," and fluency in French is a requisite for living there.
Duckett House
Duckett is connected to Chase House, but the only thing I know about it is that it has an elevator, and for some reason, there were always panel discussions happening there in the dining room. For example, the Bitches Who Hate the WTO would have "anti-globalization" lunches and shit there. Obviously, I never managed to make it to one of those shindigs.
Emerson House
Emerson was right next to the house where I lived, and we were connected to them. There were some cool girls in Emerson who used to come party on the Jordan second floor with me and my crew (I actually made an amateur porn with two of them, and NO I'm not posting that here), and there were also some seriously uptight snatches. To seek vengeance, I stole a couch out of their hall sitting room for my dorm, and the night before I graduated, gave the illicit couch to some townies drinking from our illicit keg to throw off the roof. They almost hit a Public Safety cruiser with it. Another time, this girl in my house pulled their fire alarm at 3 a.m. to get back at them for making noise complaints about our house. They were so pissed. It was awesome.
Friedman Apartments
The Friedmans were the only campus apartments, and they were in high demand. Girls would flip out over whether or not they could secure a Friedman. I had a few friends who lived in Friedmans, and there were some kickass parties there for sure. One time I walked into a friend's birthday party at Friedman B-2, and she greeted me at the door in a pair of devil horns and on so much Ecstasy that she looked like one of those people from the "Black Hole Sun" video. She proceeded to greet me with one of the sloppiest, most tongue-filled kisses I've ever received, and then put a drink in my hand. Good times. Friedman residence, however, didn't guarantee that you weren't going to be an impossibly lame typical Smith hag. At my two-year-reunion, we got kicked out of some fat, mustachioed, Fuzzy Navel-drinking bitch's Friedman because my ex-boyfriend Benzo's stepbrother Nate Dogg was harassing her...AKA talking shit about Smith girls because he went to VASSAR. Only at Smith does that get you ejected from a party.
Gardiner House
Gardiner was a real pearls-and-penny loafers type of Smith house, and even though they were in the Quad, they were notorious for their elitist, buttoned-up, WASPy residents. They actually even tried to start a sorority and hung up their letters on their second floor bay window. In response, I started a fraternity my junior year and hung up our letters in the Jordan House window facing Gardiner. I chose the Pi Kappa Epsilon frat, because the Pikes were notorious for date rape and vicious hazing and other egregious fratty violations. For an entire year, I had my PKE letters fixed firmly upon my door, and I think I even drew them on my arm one time for a Gardiner House party. Whether the bitches at Gardiner got it or not is unclear, but they were nonetheless displeased that I'd chosen to make light of what they thought was a brilliant idea. Because a Smith sorority is a great idea...if there's one thing Smith needs more of, it's cadres of stupid bitches reveling in their exclusivity.
Gillett House
I actually know nothing about Gillett House. It's yet another unremarkable bitch trap.
Haven/Wesley House
It's where would-be internet-mediated rape facilitator TEJ BINDRA lived, and I think that says it all. An interesting piece of trivia about the room where Tej lived is that my friend Wmania once vomited Kahlua and Bailey's all over it. Oh, and Sylvia Plath lived there too.
Hopkins House
I know absolutely nothing about Hopkins House, either. Dumb, boring bitch repository!
Hubbard House
Again, dumb, boring bitch repository! The best thing they've got going for them is that Julia Child lived there at the turn of the century, or whenever the hell in antiquity it was that she went to Smith.
Jordan House (AKA AWESOMEST SMITH HOUSE EVER)
Guess where I lived all four years at Smith? Only the most notorious party house at Smith in the history of the college. When I would tell people, "I live in Jordan," I'd get this knowing look, that was full of "oh, you must be a drunk" judgment, concern that I might become unhinged at any moment, and hushed awe. When I first got to Smith, Jordan was on social probation because the year before, the house president's boyfriend (a member of the Holyoke, MA chapter of the Latin Kings) orchestrated an epic Sharks v. Jets battle in the second floor hallway with a group of white trash Masshole townies. My ex-boyfriend was there, and he had taken refuge in this girl's room (where I think she gave him a blowjob), and he said you could feel the walls shake as bodies slammed up against it in the hall. On that legendary night, crack was smoked in the bathroom and somebody had a gun. By Smith standards, that is INSANITY. Nothing of that caliber happened during my time, but we still had ridiculous parties, used the entire second floor as our personal smoking lounge, employed a drug dealer as our kitchen guy, hired strippers for senior banquet parties, and drew the ire of feminist students and faculty alike for hosting a degrading "Pimps and Hos"-themed party. Jordan House rocked the tits off Smith College back in my day, and hopefully it's still doing so without apology.
King House
King was one of those Quad houses that tried (and failed) to give Jordan a run for its money in the party department. I think FalloniusMonk lived there, too, so props to King House.
Lamont House
Lamont is about as exciting as the department store in Puyallup that shares its name (or used to...I think Lamont's is Gottschalks now, but either way, it's still a clearinghouse for the world's ugliest Liz Claiborne rayon blouses). Even by Smith's abysmally low standards, Lamont was known as a dweeb colony.
Lawrence House
I don't even remember where this veritable pit of fug was on campus. That's how insignificant the prostitutes were that lived there.
Morris House
See what I just said about Lawrence House.
Morrow House
Morrow was the most despicable house in the Quad. The bitches there were super uptight, and no fun at all. They didn't have parties because nobody came to them, on account of their policy toward serving minors, their horrible DJs, and their bad attitudes. They also refused to participate in Quad Riot several years running (Quad Riot was an annual drunken food fight), and I became their number one enemy when I declared them "Worst of the Quad" in my newspaper column and called them pussies. Stupid bitches. That's what you get for living in a house named after the trust fund wife of a famous aviator and mother of a famous kidnapped baby...your legacy is about as storied and admirable as Anne Morrow Lindbergh's career of marriage and babymaking.
Northrop House
Northrop House? There was a Northrop House?
Park House
I knew a couple girls in Park House, but my most significant memory of a Park slut was that of this chick who lived down the hall from me's girlfriend emerging one night at 11 o'clock precisely to tell us all that it was quiet hours and time for us to go to bed, because she had crew practice the next morning at five. I got all up in her face with my friend Martindale, who was an intimidating bruiser from Long Island, and we told her that if her beauty sleep was so fucking important, then "take your ass back to Park House. We know it's quiet there." I'm not sure that horse-faced bitch ever slept over again.
Parsons House
I also don't remember where Parsons House was. I think it was somewhere behind the Friedmans, but I can't be sure.
Scales House
My friend JerseyGirl and her crew brought Scales House to a level of party prominence almost on par with Jordan's. They had this platform where it was all 90210 and bong hits, all the time. Scales House was the dope shit in JerseyGirl's era.
Sessions House
Lesbian orgy, anyone? Sessions was ground zero for all BDOCs (big dykes on campus), and I'll never forget that during my first year, this girl from my floor said that she regularly attended these lesbo sex parties there. That sounds kind of fun...except when you account for what the average Smith BDOC looks like and acts like. I can imagine that they somehow managed to take a normally fun orgy and turn it into an exhibition of overcompensatory macho posturing on par with a swordfight in a frat house.
Talbot House
Talbot used to have this party called "Immorality" that was immoral in name only. The one time I went, they ran out of alcohol, wouldn't let anyone in because of concerns regarding the fire code, and seemed determined to prevent anyone from having any fun at all. It's immoral, in my book, to have a party dedicated to immorality in which all depravity is squashed before it can even begin. LL Cool Jew once wrote a joke column in the paper called "The Gay Agenda," in which she detailed the daily schedule of your average Smith dyke. An item on this was "7:30 p.m.-Insert tattered copy of Bound into Talbot House VCR. Masturbate gloomily." That says it all for Talbot House.
Tenney House
I think Tenney was where all the vegans lived. They had a vegetarian-only kitchen or something. Obviously I never hung out there.
Tyler House
A lot of jocks live in Tyler because it was close to the athletic fields and gym. KatieScarlett lived there her first year, and she and I initially bonded over laughing about her housemate and my biology 101 classmate, this girl named Annie Prickett. She was from Delaware, was obsessed with horses, looked like a strapping young farm boy, and always introduced herself as "Annie...PrickETT!" Her dream was to become a horse breeder and KatieScarlett and I had a lot of fun laughing about her life's ambition to spend her working years with her arm stuck in a horse's ass up to the elbow. KatieScarlett's rugby girlfriend once had snowballs thrown at her by Annie Prickett on the way to Senior Ball (because Annie would have much rather built a snow fort than attend a semi-formal) and apparently went after Annie screaming, "You threw a snowball at my fucking dress, you stank whore!" Annie skedaddled into Tyler House legend.
Washburn House
I smoked pot with some hippie chick from one of my humanities classes there once. Oh, and they had a computer lab in the house, I think.
Wilder House
I went to a rugby party in the basement of Wilder once, and after watching a bunch of burly rugger dykes tear apart 15 large pizzas and drink Killian's Red out of their dirty cleats, I left stepping over various lesbian couples going to second base on my way out. Wilder's aight in my book.
Wilson House
One of my weed dealers lived in Wilson House. When she graduated, she filled her bathtub with forties and rolled 100 joints, and I only vaguely remember being at that party. In fact, I can't think of a single time I was in Wilson House that I wasn't more stoned than a white chick with dreadlocks and a backless shirt at a Phish show. I'm sure it was fun, but Wilson House is a blur to me.
Ziskind House
See "Cutter House" above for commentary on Ziskind's hideous asylum-style architectural features and equally crazy residents.
And there they are...the hottest houses. With domiciles like these, it's hardly a surprise Smith rocketed to the top of Newsweek's Hottest Colleges rankings. Watch out, Wellesley...we're coming for your cushy spot on the U.S. News and World Report next!
Labels: Assachusetts, Dumb Smith bitches, FalloniusMonk, hilarious shit, intentional buffoonery, JerseyGirl, LL Cool Jew, Razzification, ridiculous absurdity
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Yaaaaaaahhhhhhhhnnnnn. Longest blog of nothing interesting I waded through ever.
# posted by 
: 8/28/2007 5:32 PM
: 8/28/2007 5:32 PM 
Important notes on a few of these houses involving WMania:
- You can't mention Friedman B1 where WMania and I lived without giving a shout out to our Senior Ball 2000 afterparty, which WMania and I tried very hard to make college-style high-class (gin and vodka tonics instead of keg beer, guest list instead of open) which the Dead Gays crashed and forced WMania to throw their papier-mache "Under the Sea" prop off the patio
- The greatest WMania encounter with a Sessions House BDOC ever was when she drunkenly yet purposefully dropped her lit cigarette into the drink of the girl who told her it was a non-smoking house.
WHO CARES what anonymous said??? This was an AWESOME post!
- You can't mention Friedman B1 where WMania and I lived without giving a shout out to our Senior Ball 2000 afterparty, which WMania and I tried very hard to make college-style high-class (gin and vodka tonics instead of keg beer, guest list instead of open) which the Dead Gays crashed and forced WMania to throw their papier-mache "Under the Sea" prop off the patio
- The greatest WMania encounter with a Sessions House BDOC ever was when she drunkenly yet purposefully dropped her lit cigarette into the drink of the girl who told her it was a non-smoking house.
WHO CARES what anonymous said??? This was an AWESOME post!
I'm a future Smith student and yesterday I found out that I've been placed in Lamont, so I did a google search and found this. I've gotta say that this blog is seriously kick ass, but I was really disappointed to read what you had to say about Lamont, not because I'm offended by it but because I'm afraid that when I get there I'm going to think to myself, "she was right..." Bummer.
# posted by : 7/09/2008 10:15 AM
: 7/09/2008 10:15 AM
I also graduated from Smith in 2000. I laughed (happily, not snarkily) through this post. One thing you didn't mention about Jordan House, though, was the unfortunate suicide that happened in Jordan House in 1997; a student hanged herself, and nobody noticed until the smell started a few days later.
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# posted by : 9/13/2009 2:19 PM
: 9/13/2009 2:19 PM Links to this post:
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