It Happened to Me: I Got Stuck on the Roof of Rosse During Pete Davidson’s Stand-up Show

On the eve of my college graduation, I find myself reminiscing all the while over these past four years. The arcane jokes with cherished friends, the breakthrough moments in transformative classes, the clear nights that buzzed with the stunning urgency of our youth–– I am moved nearly to tears by the remembrance of these most perfect memories.  

Pete Davidson’s Rosse Hall stand-up set is not one of those memories. 

For anyone. It was a night I think a lot of people wish had never happened, Pete Davidson most of all, and we will be haunted by what happened in that auditorium for the rest of our lives. Only I have been carrying an additional burden from that night in April, 2018, and now that’s been long enough that I don’t think I could really get in trouble anymore, I am ready to lay my burden down.

I almost missed Pete Davidson’s stand-up set. I almost derailed the entire thing. Not five minutes before showtime, I was on the roof of Rosse Hall. And I had no clue how to get down. 

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It Happened to Me: The Drama Department Is Turning Me Into a YouTuber for My Senior Thesis

You might not have heard yet, but we are in the midst of a pandemic. I am a drama major, which has become an increasingly irresponsible life decision. But hey, I’m all about following my heart. I’d follow my heart right off a cliff.

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It Happened To Us: Rihanna Stole Our Money

 

I’m sure you’ve also been targeted by Kate Hudson’s notorious Fabletics scam somewhere on your Facebook feed. I’m usually pretty cautious of falling into traps of 30 day trials and VIP packages of B-List celebrity workout clothing. So I never thought International Sensation Rihanna would be the one to bring me down. To bring us all down. Continue reading

It Happened to Me: I Spent Five Minutes in LAX NCA and Now I Have a Massive Ulcer

Picture this: it is your second weekend on The Hill. You and your friends have just skillfully finessed your way into LAX NCA, where the music is loud, the heat is oppressive, and some sophomore is dry-heaving into a bag of Doritos. You stay for a few minutes — just long enough to acquaint yourself with the entire first floor of Gund — before receding back into the tepid womb that is your first-year dorm. 

Upon waking up the next morning, you feel different. Perhaps, you suppose, you’re a changed woman — perhaps last night’s sweaty pilgrimage finally transformed you into the poised, self-sufficient, borderline emaciated Kenyon girl that you’ve always aspired to be. 

As it turns out, you’ve just developed a massive ulcer.

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