It can happen anywhere, at any time. It is social torture. It is the Awkward Conversation-insignificant, trite repartee that neither party engaging in it cares about. Drawing from personal experience, the Panthea Institute of Over-analysis will now review three main sources from which it stems.
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Ain’t nothing but a P thang: Confessions of a snob
Did you see what she is wearing? Omigod, I can’t believe he just said that! Admit it, we all pass judgments on others for the silliest of things-their outfits, their musical preferences, whatever. It’s human nature. There is a bit of snob in each of us. In my case, however, it is more than just a bit.
Ain’t nothing but a P thang
Apparently, you have already met the person you will marry by age 21. I call bullshit. I just hit the magical number and I’ll be damned if that saying rings true because, frankly, my options are looking bleak. I have yet to meet the Prince Charming who will whisk me off to a life of white picket fences.
Communal showers and urinals: The politics of co-ed washrooms
After having spent three hours helping me unpack my belongings into my new room in Molson Hall, my mother entered and immediately left the washroom, upon spotting the young man at the urinal. She refused to go back to the bathroom while there was someone of the opposite sex in there with her.
Will you live with me?
As I was picking the tomatoes out of the tomato-bean-corn-random-sauce-weird-white-vegetable-mix at the salad bar in the cafeteria, I began eavesdropping on a conversation two girls standing beside me were having. “Where were you a few minutes ago? I tried to find you for lunch,” asked one of them.
Sex Games
On average, Canadians have sex 150 times a year, placing us fourth in the world. From that initial come-hither glance to the frustrating rules and the gratifying end, The McGill Tribune explores our obsession with one of the nation’s favourite pastimes. You gots to be a playa, man” proclaims Master P.
Digital culture
Moving away from home for the first time triggered something inside my mind. As a Freshman, a sense of loss washed over me, and this sorrow manifested itself into a bizarre syndrome, an inexplicable dependency, a mind-boggling complex. A small fish in an increasingly bigger pond, I yearn for communication with those I left behind.
Ain’t nothing but a P thang: Love me, validate me, confirm and poke me
Jared had Subway. Fergie had Jenny Craig. I, Panthea Lee, have the Facebook. Just as those above institutions changed the lives of J-Money and F-Train, the Facebook has transformed the life of yours truly. (Note: for those poor, deprived souls that know not of what I speak, go to Thefacebook.
Sexy Stats: the science of love
Ladies, be coquettish and coy and play hard-to-get. Men, wait three days before calling. From Sex and the City to Seinfeld to Swingers, people today are bombarded by rules as to what to do, how to do it, and when to do it when it comes to dating, that game we all love to hate.
Ain’t nothin’ but a P Thang – “You have mail” and other horror stories
My mother always told me that “hate” was a very strong word. And I agree. Today, I no longer hate liver, I just intensely dislike it. I no longer hate my life; I only wish it were different. Completely different. Heck, I no longer hate Graham Jacobs, though I wish I could smash his conceited little face into a billion pieces and then send the smithereens to that new skank he’s dating.
