How to Lose a Guy in 10 Words

Three attractive college women stand on a street corner waiting for a bus.  Their male peers pass by on the sidewalk, often gawking unabashedly at the women with whom they must know, on some level, they will never really get to hook up.  The women clearly want this reaction, though, as they are dressed in outfits tailored exclusively for use in nightclubs, with cigarettes hanging coolly from three right hands and tiny, showy purses tucked under three left arms.

As I pass, I overhear this snippet of conversation:

Girl #1: I didn’t throw up everywhere. I threw up once in the bathroom.

Girl #2: Well I threw up all night, and then kept going in the morning.

To think: college guys were walking right past them without even attempting to get their phone numbers!

All I can envision is the scene in Big Bang Theory where the nerdy physicists attend a Halloween party and Sheldon analyzes the other guests’ conversations, “like Jane Goodall observing the apes.”

Sheldon: It seems that the newcomer approaches the existing group with the greeting, “How wasted am I?” which is met with an approving chorus of, “Dude!”

Leonard: Then what happens?

Sheldon: That’s as far as I’ve gotten.

Me too, my fictional friend.  Me too.

Pops Sells its Soul

Last night’s Harvard Pops concert, Pops Sells its Soul, was a triumph musically, comically, creatively, and (in classic Pops style) cinematically, over even November’s Pops Risks it All or the ultimate measuring stick, 2006’s Pops Gets Cursed.

In this episode, the Devil (“Err… Mr. Cifer — call me Lou”) buys the Pops’ soul, which turns out to be masestro Allen Feinstein.  “Come on.  Your kazoo, accordion, bagpipe, and viola orchestra is waiting.”

The concert arced from Offenbach’s Orpheus in the Underworld to Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven, with stops at Devil Went Down to Georgia, Danse Macabre, a certain AC/DC song appropriate to the theme, and even a hilarious and unexpected (despite being plainly listed in the program) rendition of Limbo Rock.

Violinists Nora Ali, Anne Michael Langguth, and Martin Ye (collectively portraying the three-headed dog Cerberus guarding the gates of Hades), competed cooperatively over a single challenging solo part in Zigeunerweisen (there in a Vienna Philharmonic Women’s Orchestra performance); Nicholas Ward brought out the electric cello at one point; Tom Compton sang an absolutely hilarious number titled I’m Wearing the Pants; and before the night was over Rebecca Gruskin played a solo on a garden hose with a funnel attached in a composition Mr. Feinstein titled cleverly Hoseanna.

And they somehow managed to conceal until the last moments of the concert what should have been a painfully obvious play on words: the Devil hopes to sneak through the gates of heaven because he knows Faust — you know, Harvard president Dr. Drew G. Faust.  Blinding, isn’t it?

The only question, really, is why you haven’t given them money yet.