1. What hast thou done?

    #occupyberwyn ?

    Have things changed so much that you need to too?

    The fonts, the colors, the aesthetics…I’m not sure I can get behind the redesign until influential fashion tumblrs like RRT.1 does.

    Is
    The
    Substance inside the same?

    Who can know?

    It passes through me and I’m someone else. I wake up the next day wonder why my panties are still wet.

    This is what lets me get through what I need to to graduate with a solid 3.

    My boyfriend started wearing flannel and cut offs with tights. Must you change also?

    What remains when PBR doesn’t?

    Will they re-release classic PBR in 10 months? Did the PBR classic formula exist before I termed it ‘classic PBR?’

     

  2. Brazen does not begin to capture {3 Natties}.

    In the most alternative corner of College Park, the remnants of a night spent wading into the $12.00 30 pack stand guard.

    Mocking me, mocking the RRT.1 street team as they begin pasting pyramid scheme advertisements in an effort to drum up further support for the fastest growing blog movement that operates under #stayclassycollegepark.

     

  3. The Web’s premier Posterous clone, Tumblr.com reacts violently to the eloquent plea for help posted by RRT.1’s social media intern about her inability to relate sexually to her Quidditch playing ex-boyfriend.

    A meme is brought forth from the YouTube graveyard. Images of Cam’Ron on The O’Reilky factor spring to mind unbidden.

    The others emphasize the sadness and the maleness of RRT.1s 5’9 180 pound social media intern who could not pass for Hermione Granger and satisfy the sexual desire of one who super glued a broomstick to his fundament.

    Quidditch has its defenders. This motherfuckers will not go easily.

     

  4. Over Route One, take me to Route One, dig a shallow grave (behind Looney’s Pub), and babysit our children.

    Has the Cuddler changed professions?

    A cigarette-smelling hand hesitates dialing the number, but it lusts to go out and hold the beer can.

    Yes, I’ll sit your kids. Don’t worry about the door, just leave a window unlocked.

    A child cries out. The death of innocence in College Park.

    You might sleep, but you will never dream.

     

  5. I thought we got rid of you motherfuckers.

    Don’t you realize people on the web’s premier micro-blogging platform are mocking you and that using organic super glue to affix your genitals to a vintage broomstick is not going to reduce the reblogs on this post?

    I saw one of you score just now. You ran and hopped and skipped and shoved what is presumably a comp sci and/or computational linguistics major to the ground and shove a soccer ball into a 5’5” hoop. You do realize other people can see this right?

    Since when was it acceptable to map the mentally masturbatory act of imagining that one is Harry’s right hand wizard, always clearing his way so that he can grab that golden snitch and expecting nothing but Daniel Radcliffe’s recognition of your existence and suitability for Hufflefuck to things in the world like balls and hoops and broomsticks which reduce the efficacy and even existence of your balls?

    I live everyday wracked with insecurity and doubt. In fact, I’m not sure whether my boyfriend will leave me after I refuses to put on a brunette wig and perform the expelliarmus maneuver on his Alan Richman-esque nether regions.

    Yet, there you all are. Not realizing that you’re motherfuckers, not wizards and that that Japenese freshman dressed up as the snitch in conjunction with the Butter Beer you saved up for a special victory will not make the pain of either you or I apparate.

     

  6. We are the technology we’ve been waiting for. I’m not going to wait around for “President” Obama to legalize broomsticks, imagination and elevated hoops.

    Magic can be in your mind, but more importantly, is in our mind.

    We don’t need to “fly” in order to fly. We don’t need to “soar” in order to soar.

    In your mind, I am holding a ablated Swiffer and failing to catch a European football with one hand. But as I perceive it, I am hovering a dozen meters above you, lusting after a small gold sphere you are too small of a person to see.

    You have no idea how badly we can hurt each other.

     

  7. White people like tumbling about thrifting.

     

  8.                                                                                            The Varsity 

    A beer dimmed tide is loosed upon The Varsity

    The Bro cannot hear his roommates;

    $1000 dollar a month apartment complexes fall apart; the keg cannot hold;

    Totes unacceptable puking is unleashed upon the hallways, and like everywhere

    Tastefully selected landscape paintings are lifted from the walls;

    The landlords lack all balls; while the illegally made

    Original four-loko mix fills the bros with strength and courage. 

    Surely, Paul Dillion will return;

    Surely, the Azn in charge of the PGPD will do something;

    The Varsity! 

    A bro with the body of the College Park cuddler, a head adorned with the Turtle Print of the new UMD football jerseys, moves his beer covered thighs while

    The darkness drops again

    And there are no lights at The Varsity

    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

    Slouches towards College Park to be born?

    Ron Paul 2012.

    Libertarianism has come at last to College Park.

    Don’t tread on The Varsity.

    A life brutish, blank and pitiless as the gaze of a bro after a Pong+Gears of War 3 marathon pervades The Varsity. 

    Let Freedom reign.

    Ron Paul 2012. 

     


  9. coffeewithants:

    ashemon:

    coffeewithants:

    1001openhands:

    songtocome:

    ok ashemon’s response is really upsetting me because there are so many things wrong with it and on a scale of really bad sexism/misogny it isn’t even THAT bad, its just so commonplace, and I mean, why engage with it but I just can’t deal with it tonight. why can’t people of all genders wear whatever they want for whatever freakin reason without people being kind of rude and policing about it? why do people have to conform to one particular idea of ‘flattering’ or ‘attractive’ when there are as many different types of flattering as there are people? why is there this idea that anyone society considers a woman has to be ‘sexually attractive’ to men? as though there is only one type of ‘sexually attractive’ femininity that ALL men like? and why is this sort of weird gender policing being justified by horribly random, bizzarely presented and actually totally not real ‘science’??? WHYYYYY. I mean, I know why. its just our culture, and its fucked up. and of course I know this sort of thing happens all the time, every day, but it is making me so upset!!!!

    fuck off

    OH RIGHT, that thing where I dress for other people’s approval rather than my own comfort/happiness

    Sundresses are more flattering to your body, you know. For a woman, it’s incredibly important (in terms of reproductive success) to look sexually attractive. More attractive people are more likely to have daughters. It wouldn’t be a stretch to conclude that women gain more of an evolutionary advantage by being more attractive than men. After all, sexual attractiveness largely signifies health. A woman’s health is a larger determinant in her child’s prenatal health (after all she has to carry the baby for nine months—all the father has to do is produce sperm).

    Tumblr is a forum in which we can leave behind the accrued arguments and conflicts of the past. We can do away with evolution and the “misogyny” behind which it hides.

    @ashemon: The feminists got here first, you goddamn bro. With a string a riot grrrrrrrrrl reblogs, likes of Take Back the Mid-Afternoon Walks and DSLR pictures of Ariel Levy books, the trail has been blazed. DO NOT come on this beautiful place with progressive fonts, gender-neutral iPhone and Android apps, and Liz Lemon-based infrastructure AND spew your retro-unchill-totes-not-rebloggable-grade views about personal aesthetic preference.

    When men make declarative statements on 21st century social networks and not within the confines of a thoughtful, GIF-able Mad Men episode, I can simply can’t abide and let this non-traditional beauty affirming and fat positive microblogging platform hold your epistemologically comprised Western, masculinist Empiricism.

    I just want to let you know that I’m here, and I don’t fear you or any of the other pigs gazing at me and objectifying me while I protest outside of Eppley Recreation Center telling other girls that they don’t need to work out and be subservient to any man’s notion of how they ought to look.

    As a fully autonomous, rational human/female, I say the following to you Mr. Ashemon: On behalf of all womyn, all Zhes, all sluts, all cunts, all bitches, and everyone else whom Ashemon has insulted by writing something that would be reblogged ~100,000 times if it was attributed to howtotalktogirlsatparties, fuck off, you goddamn bro.

    (via songstocome-deactivated20120219)

     

  10. My, my, my apocalypse.

    2012 has come early.

    War in the holy land.

    Antichrist running for Republican Prez. nom.

    Y’all know what it means when athletes of varying heights and shades cannot be Christian without black, red-mossed maws opening up where their faithful skulls once were.

    Down with the staple pillars. They have rebelled against those made in the image of G_d for the last time.

    2 equestrians out of 4 have arrived.

    We flock to The Barking Dog and await the locusts.

     

  11. Never thought I’d see Charlie again.

    Is it multiculturalism or am I going to have to hack my way through the jungle again?

    The rain here feels different than it did in “the shit.”

    The thing this bro is carrying takes me back.

    Back to a time with both Sheens, Da Foe and most importantly, Tom Berenger.

    I could survive Shit Campus Dining Hall if I had Berenger and a Barretta with me.

    I know there’s Charlie waiting for me in the grass. I can feel it.

    Who knows what’s in the weapons cache under Tydings Hall?

    I can hear them digging tunnels through the terrapin express offices.

     

  12. Le Ribbon du Pabst.

    Let it go, bro.

    No bro.

    It’s a Pabst in a bottle. One day, I’ll put a message in this bottle, move to Canada and you can fucking live under the Parry administration.

    Please. Obama is still president. Let go of the Pabst.

    Please. I read Roubini. I need this drink to ease me into the double dip recession.

    Bro. I’m not looking at ya; I’m looking Pabst ya.

     

  13. L’étranger est dans le Parc du Collège.

    Maman died cette morn.

    Elle “partied way trop fucking hard” chez Tri-Delts la nuit dernière.

    Je hope that I can find a way past my despair.

    I dois to find a way to face my executioners/parking nazis avec a smile on my face.

    Life is meaningless. The thirsty turtle is meaningless.

    Need to go find une arabe to kill. Where’s that guy? I think this tumblr used to make fun of him but I just can’t remember his name. It’s the strangest thing.

     

  14. Shrine. Offering. Run Route One is born again. Post-College. Post-women. Post-bethlehems. Riding waves. Wavves aren’t coming.

    My lungs and my brain. Phi Si seems signified.

    #itsbettertohavehadranrouteonethanto fadeaway.

     


  15. ugh, what should i read this summer?

    Great Gatsby is the perfect book. Run Route 1 Collective recommends Chroma by Derek Jarman. 

    un-punk:

    some helpful hints: i like both fiction and non-fiction. my favorite author is milan kundera. i’ve recently been enjoying graphic novels, delillo’s underworld, cheever’s short stories, and massive feminist tomes that i can never finish but carry in my backpack everywhere. i have also been known to enjoy biographies, especially of presidents or musicians. great gastby is the perfect book; haters to tha left.

    and… GO.

    (Source: mumblesauce)