Category: Columns

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Arts & Life Columns Cooking Corner

Cooking Corner: Chocolate Chip Brownies

Katie Mancino

Staff Writer

Chocolate Chip Brownies

These brownies are the perfect treat if you’re looking for something sweet and healthy. At only 64 calories these are completely guiltless, yet still rich and chocolaty thanks to the soymilk and chocolate chips. I sprinkled mini hearts on top of mine just before baking so they cooked right into the top layer! Try experimenting with other flavor extracts like peppermint, almond or even coconut to make different flavors.

Each: 64 calories, 2g fat, 13 carbs, 1g protein

Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup Truvia for Baking
  • 2 Tbsp Land O’ Lakes Light Butter
  • 2 egg whites
  • 2 Tbsp Silk Light Vanilla Soymilk
  • 1 tsp vanilla extract
  • 1/2 tsp baking powder
  • 1/4 tsp salt
  • 1/4 cup cocoa powder
  • 1/4 cup whole wheat flour
  • 3 Tbsp mini chocolate chips

Directions: makes 12 brownies

  1. Heat oven to 350 F and spray brownie pan with nonstick spray.
  2. Beat butter and Truvia together.
  3. Add egg whites, vanilla and soymilk.
  4. Add remaining ingredients, mix until smooth.
  5. Spread into an even layer in the pan, top with sprinkles (small ones work best).
  6. Bake for 15-20 minutes until solid.
  7. Let cool and slice into 12 brownies.
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Arts & Life Columns Rees' Pieces

Rees’ Pieces

Ben Rees
Columnist

Since graduation, we have a new, fresh and generally unemployed senior class walking the halls of the University. Unfortunately, it is time for all these rapidly aging adults to find some sort of occupation. Different jobs demand different qualifications, but all of them require an interview.

For many, interviews are very stressful. You have 30 minutes or less to explain how great you are or, if you’re not great, to lie about yourself. Should you be serious or should you be funny? Do you go Windsor or half-Windsor? Is your skirt too short? Is it too early in the season to wear white? Fear not seniors, in a few short minutes you will know exactly what to do, and more importantly, how to act in a job interview.

First and foremost, dress appropriately. Unfortunately for all of you, Sperry’s are not dress shoes; they are boat shoes. Unless you’re interviewing for Prestige International, this won’t fly. Also, if you own a tuxedo t-shirt, burn it.

Next, you will want to floss your teeth. Nothing screams, “I’m impressive” like a big piece of bacon fat hanging from your teefers.

Do not ask your potential employer: “Where do you summer?” Summer is not a verb. His douche alarm will blare.

When your potential employer asks you to talk about a time you faced adversity, don’t talk about the time you went on a class field trip to the United Nations. Adversity and diversity are two different words–familiarize yourself with them.

Don’t be afraid to be different. Make a little joke here and there and tell them an interesting story about yourself. Standing out can never hurt.

I lied; standing out can hurt. It’s perfectly fine to be different, but it’s not okay to tell creepy stories about your life that you believe are unique. They want to know about when you helped a relative get through something tough, not about how you were breastfed until age 11. Saving Mrs. Wilson’s cat from choking on your little brother’s Lego isn’t a challenging life event either.

If your hero/mentor is Kim Kardashian because of how successful and spunky she is, then you need to lie. It is now your mother because of how successful and spunky she is. See how much better that sounds?

Lastly, a letter of recommendation from your parents or relatives goes about as far as the phrase “I’m only going to have one drink tonight.” It’s nice to hear, but at the end of the day, you only say it to make yourself feel a little bit better.

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Arts & Life Sleeping Around

Sleeping Around: I Love Wiley Jack

By Stacy Lace

Columnist

My dearest Jack,

All semester, journalistic chemistry has been building between us. You’ve felt it; I’ve felt it. From the moment you offered me a shout-out in your column about “Bucknell girls,” I couldn’t take my mind off of you. I feel the time has finally come for me count the ways in which I love you. Since I really only know you from afar, I’m mainly focusing on the way you have entrapped me with your column. However, I will of course reference our few non-Bucknellian almost-interactions.

  1. I love that the first time I heard your name, it was during a game of “Where the Wind Blows.” Apparently, a large percentage of my sorority also loves you … and has proved it on several occasions.
  2. I love that as a guy at the peak of his physical prowess, you’re unable to run up and down a basketball court for a reasonable amount of time. It helps me to think of your skills as perfect for a quickie.
  3. I love that you drink almost every night and that your excessive alcohol intake causes you to frequent Taco Bell. I myself am a fan of the Crunchwrap Supreme.
  4. I love that you told us all about your college bucket list. I wonder which tasks you’ve managed to accomplish in your time here. While I know that at some point you “got naked” and rocked a tank top, I wonder if you had the opportunity to shower at the Bison, take a philosophy class or spend a weekend sober.
  5. I love that you accept that my day and night behavior are drastically different. I love that you accept my Thursday morning “walk to class of shame” outfit of leggings and a baseball cap. I’m partial to my navy University cap, but I’d rock one supporting any sports team you’re a fan of.
  6. I love that you created an entire “I love” list about the strange things you love. I, too, love warm leather, rice and America.
  7. I love the way you refer to your belly as a Franzia wine bag. Clearly, six packs don’t do it for me; it’s all about the Franzia.
  8. I love that you have perfected the Super Saturday. No one at the University has been able to truly catch my eye when I’m in my afternoon drunken haze. I now know that the height at which a guy stands is really what draws me in and gets me hot. Boys should truly take note of you.
  9. I love that you expect to see women in their bikinis. I understand how this objectifies my sex, but I’ll be honest: if I get to check out your Franzia belly, shouldn’t you get to check out mine?
  10. I love that when I told you I would write you a love letter your response was “That’s awesome! But make sure I look like a sex god so all the girls want me.” Yes. That happened.

So long, Jack. Next year, I’ll have to find a new “sex god” to worship from afar. Any suggestions?

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Arts & Life From the Mind of Wiley Jack Humor

From the Mind of Wiley Jack: Adios Bucknell

By Jack Wiles

Columnist

Well, after a semester of presenting you with my thoughts weekly, this is my last word before I graduate. (I hope, I’d really be embarrassed if I stayed another year.) To close out, I’d like to share an embarrassing story from my childhood and an embarrassing story from my college days. Let’s see what has changed.

As a child, around the ages of one to three, I used to dislike taking showers or baths. Who wants to get wet if you don’t have to, right? My super hyper, pesky little self would annoy my parents and run from them when they tried to make me bathe. My parents came up with a creative, fun way to get me clean. Their solution: call me Mr. Naked, a high-flying superhero who happens to be nude. I think there was an intro song, and definitely a chant involving the words “here comes Mr. Naked!” that would get me to strip down and sprint down the hallway to the bathroom. Once I was wet, it was done, and bathing was a breeze.

As a college student, around the ages of 18 to 19, I really enjoyed taking showers. Often times, I would take them in the evening before dinner if I hadn’t gotten to it early in the day or if I just felt dirty. One evening, a few members of my first-year hall decided that it might be a humorous prank to take my towel from the bathroom while I was in the shower. At first, when I realized there was nothing between my genitals and the open air for my commute back to my room, I freaked. After I realized there was nothing I could do but be a man and essentially streak, I booked it down the hall, covering as much as I could to my room. I can’t even say I was upset about it after. In fact, it was kind of fun.

As you can see, little has changed with me over time, and that’s how it should be. Respect your inner child–your inner clown–and have fun with life, especially when you’re young. The University has provided an incredible experience, enlightening me both academically and socially. As many of you know, I will be heading to the greatest city in America next year. This, obviously, is Cleveland, Ohio. I will try to be hot in Cleveland just like Betty White, but I can’t hold any promises. Guys, as my great uncle always says, it’s been real, and it’s been fun. But, it hasn’t been real fun. Thanks for reading. Wiley out.

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Arts & Life Sleeping Around

Sleeping Around: My Reality

By Stacey Lace
Columnist

Earlier this week, I decided to take a night out and “frat real hard.” I figured the end of the semester and finals week were coming and I wanted one last midweek night of drinking at my boyfriend’s frat house.

I played a little pong and watched the frat-stars play a game of snake and a few rounds of 21 cup. No worries, though. I didn’t drink myself into oblivion or even a haze; I’m writing this after being home for only a few minutes.

My late night drinking isn’t the most interesting thing that happened tonight. I learned what the guys all think my life is really like.

I said I needed to head home to write my column and my boyfriend’s response was, “I’ll give you something to write about.” Obviously, I wasn’t surprised by this. However, I’m usually the one who wakes him up in the middle of the night to get down and dirty.

I was more surprised by the image I’ve gotten with the rest of the house. I jokingly asked one guy to write my column for me and he said he would do it from my point of view. Here’s his response:

“I woke up this morning, rolled over, saw XXX and just thought he looked so sexy. Then I went back to sleep. A few hours later I woke up and again thought he looked so sexy. Then I went to class and all I thought about was how sexy XXX is. Now I’m heading home to go be around XXX, who is so sexy.”

I find it hard to believe I have a more active sex drive than most. I feel like health class always taught us that boys think about sex something like every six seconds. I am far from that.

In reality, I woke up at 6:45 a.m. so I could shower and make it to my 8 a.m. class on time. I left my boyfriend sleeping in my bed, wishing I could join him. The main motivation to hopping back in the sack was not to have sex, but rather to sleep. It was 8 a.m. for crying out loud!

I headed off to lab and class, then spent the afternoon watching the finale of “One Tree Hill” and the evening at The Bucknellian. I know, I live the life of a porn star.

While it’s fun to have everyone think my life is this glamorous glimpse into the world of large amounts of sex, I really do normal things.  My life isn’t put on hold so I can get it in at all times of the day. If that were the case, I doubt I’d manage to be monogamous.

For those of you who want to keep on picturing me as this sex-crazed girl who gets it in anytime, anywhere, feel free to do so. I just ask that you let me know what that life is like!

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Arts & Life From the Mind of Wiley Jack Humor

From the mind of Wiley Jack: Anchor Crash

By Jack Wiles

Columnist

Three years in a row I have attended Anchor Splash, which is an excellent philanthropic event run by the Delta Gamma sorority. Every year there are kids doing stupid things, making fools of themselves and people are yelling all sorts of humorous things, often obscenities. It is a most excellent event, perfect for college students and for a good cause. This is what the University wants. However, I realized something when there this past week that makes my mind pull a complete 180 … and now I dislike it.

Why am I looking at dudes in little to no clothing, and girls all wearing one-pieces? There is something seriously wrong with this, my friends. While a guy in a banana hammock is pretty funny, every girl in the pool wearing a one-piece makes me want to cry. After realizing this, I was totally baffled, and couldn’t get this pressing issue off of my mind. Why would girls do this? At night, girls are constantly trying to out-perform other girls with skimpy dresses and shirts that let the midriff pop. Now, when these girls are given the opportunity to sport the bods they worked so hard to perfect for Spring Break, they cower in the corner in a swimsuit that an elementary school girl would wear.

“Wiley, you’re being too harsh; the point of Anchor Splash is not to gawk at girls!” is what some girl is definitely going to say to me. To this, I have a retort: why should you get to gawk at dudes in Speedos? This is an unfair situation. Sure, the male body is more utilitarian than the female body. Unless your name is David and you were sick at slinging stones at big dudes, the male body is used far less frequently for art than the female body. This point in itself should be enough to convince you ladies to rock what you’ve got. Show off those natural curves in an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka-dot bikini. You’re in college, probably with a body in its peak condition. You are a well-sculpted machine. Love your bodies, and show them off to those guys in the stands. We will thank you later. 

To the guys out there in nut-huggers and coin purses, I really don’t care if you wear them, but you should join my cause. It’s not right that you are putting it all out there for the world to see when you get nothing in return. Woodrow Wilson once said, “Leadership does not always wear the harness of compromise.” Luckily for you boys, you were in a harness of compromise on Thursday night at Anchor Splash. It was around your waist.

Categories
Arts & Life From the Mind of Wiley Jack Humor

From the Mind of Wiley Jack: Gettin’ Old

By Jack Wiles
Columnist

I remember when I was your age. Oh yes, back in the times when sliced bread was a penny a pack and cheeseburgers grew on trees. These were times when President Hoover himself handed me mush on the side of the street just so my stomach didn’t implode. You think I’m joking, youngsters, but in reality, I feel old.

Last weekend I turned 22. Twenty-two is a birthday that people celebrate because it’s a birthday, but in reality it is only the passing of a second in time. You see, many other birthdays have significance. For example, when you turn five it just so happens to be the year that you can count the same amount of years that you have fingers on your hand. Don’t lie, kids always take a picture when they are five with one hand held high, displaying their pudgy little cake filled fingers with pride. Then there is the 10th birthday, when you can do this with both hands. This one is particularly epic. At 13 you are a teenager, at 16 it is particularly “sweet,” and at 18 you can buy cigarettes and porn, have intercourse with people older than you and drink in certain areas of Canada. This is the second-most epic birthday. Also, every birthday before 21 is cool because it is one year closer to 21, which is by far the best birthday. (If you don’t know why you’ve never read my column, or been in public.)

But 22? Bullshit. From here on out, every birthday you experience your bones get weaker and your life more boring. Now, you are getting closer to working a day job. You are approaching marriage, which means as a male I will never make an independent decision about life again. As a female, it means that you may have to have a … oh no, I don’t even want to go in that direction. (Poor females, I really wish for their sake that they could lay eggs like birds.) Next thing you know, you’re joining the AARP and getting discounts on coffee at 6 a.m. at McDonald’s. Sounds like I’ve got a lot to look forward to.

Well, luckily for you readers, this article is coming to an end. This isn’t because I’ve reached a word limit, or even finished with my depressing rant on getting old. No, I have to stop writing because I need to take my medicine, read the paper, and make a bowel movement. I guess that’s what happens when you get old.

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Arts & Life Sleeping Around

Sleeping Around: The Art of the Hickey

By Stacey Lace

Columnist

This weekend, my boyfriend and I woke up late Saturday night to the sound of my neighbor giggling very loudly with some guy. I gave them some privacy, but the next morning, we decided we had to pay her a visit to get the dish on her hook-up.

When she opened the door, we immediately noticed the gorgeous hickey she was sporting on her neck. Ironically, it was in the same spot as my boyfriend’s; they’ve now bonded as hickey buddies.

This awkward encounter led me to start thinking about the art of the hickey. When I think of love bites, it takes me back to a fourth season episode of “7th Heaven” in which middle-school-aged Simon gives his girlfriend a hickey and is no longer allowed to see her.

Hickeys really are straight from the middle-school years, but I want to acknowledge that they still have merit six or seven years later on the college campus.

I enjoy the way that come Monday morning, they announce the details of your weekend. As in my friend’s case, even if you didn’t overhear her, anyone could guess what she’d been up to the night before. The bruise on her neck is a dead giveaway.

My favorite way to hide my indiscretions is to throw on a scarf since they’re so in right now. Unfortunately, this tactic might not work out for me as we head into warmer weather and scarves start looking European and douchey.

If I were in the wild, I would definitely be one of those “alpha females” willing to fight any other female to the death for her mate, babies, nest or whatever. With this quality, it’s important to me that I’m able to mark my territory.

Rather than getting sucked into some awkward encounter with another girl where I spend a lot of time with my face close to hers saying, “You didn’t know he had a girlfriend?” I’m able to do a little biting and sucking to get my point across.

Before sending my boy toy off for a night out without me, I like to leave a little trace behind, just to be there when I can’t be.

The hickey is also a really nice way to stifle moans, screams, panting, etc. After a neighbor overheard my sextracurricular activities overheard a few weeks ago (yes, we have too intimate of a bond), I needed to figure out a way to be a little quieter so I wasn’t always putting on an audio show.

I’ve learned you can’t make too much noise when your mouth is busy elsewhere. It’s nice to kill two or three birds with one stone–or one strong suction.

As we head into the weekend, start looking for signs of others’ play this weekend. I guarantee a neck bruise will give away all their secrets.

Categories
Arts & Life Sleeping Around

Sleeping Around: A Cosmo Life

By Stacey Lace

Columnist

As a person in Cosmopolitan’s target demographic, it’s no surprise to anyone that every month I page through the magazine to check out the latest sex tips and tricks. After reading this month’s issue, I’ve found some things I’d like to share with you, my readers.

1. Katharine McPhee is sexy. I thought she was completely irrelevant, but now I realize she might be back on the rise. In Cosmo’s “How I Unleashed My Sexy Side,” McPhee filled me in on her go-to sex kitten look of jeans and a t-shirt. While I think that’s it’s nice for class, I have to say, I don’t get ogled when I wear that to a party. I’ll stick to my short, low-cut getups for hitting the parties and bars.

2. The Circle of 6 app is what’s up when it comes to dodging a guy. The app sends out a text at a single touch to let your friends know they need to save you from some greasy creeper. It also lets you instantly ask them for a ride or a phone call as well. I know I can’t wait to use it when I get into a sticky situation. Thanks for giving me a ride, girls!

3. Gynos have no boundaries. A gyno actually tried to set a woman up on a date with her son while “huddled over [her] vadge.”  Another ate lunch while doing an internal exam. You’re really going to get that invasive, doc?

4. Guys creep all over my new Facebook timeline. My boyfriend claims he doesn’t use FB. I believe him, but apparently other guys are looking at my “map” to see where I hang out. Good thing I have my Circle of 6 app for when they find me …

5. Costco is a hot date locale. I often frequent Costco with my parents when I’m at home, but I’m not sure it’s the sexiest place to have a date. Maybe some of Cosmo’s other “25 Fun–and Free–Things to Do With Your Guy” could work for me. Also, I don’t know that a trip to Costco has ever ended up being “free.”

6. People like to see what’s going on when they’re having sex. According to Cosmo’s “The Thing He’s Dying to See During Sex,” seeing yourself get it on “taps into [your] craving for sexual power.” The magazine recommends giving your guy a view as well as taking a peek yourself. Even going above the waist, I can only tell you one thing, directly from the mouth of a 20-year-old male student: “Boobs are cool. I want to see them.” Really, someone actually said this to me.

While it’s nice that women’s magazines are providing us with treadmill material, it seems to me that most of it is bullshit meant to make me buy next month’s issue.

Categories
Arts & Life From the Mind of Wiley Jack Humor

From the mind of Wiley Jack: WWE is Awesome

By Jack Wiles

Columnist

Sunday night, I realize there is an event on television that I would like to watch. Unfortunately, this event is only offered on pay-per-view. Luckily, my nerdy engineer side emerges from somewhere deep inside and I find a live stream of this event on the Internet. It’s WWE Wrestlemania 28. My life has not only been changed for the better, but for the best. Professional wrestling is the best thing to happen to America since we gained our independence.

There are many reasons to love the WWE. I would like to focus on the ones most applicable to University students.  One very important thing must be made very clear before I get into the details: the WWE is not real wrestling. The wrestlers are not actually having a physical competition; they are performing a show. This show requires a great deal of athleticism, strength and showmanship, but it is not a real wrestling match. I really wish I didn’t have to say that, but I feel like there are a lot of people out there that have never even heard of the WWE (or they’re just idiots). This is why I write about it. I’m sure they’ll pay me later.

The first thing to do to enjoy these spectacular events is pick a favorite wrestler. There are many superstars to choose from, all from different backgrounds and with different strengths and weaknesses. Like 7 foot, 441 pound behemoths? The Big Show is your boy. I go for the suave, yet flashy underdog Kofi Kingston. There is also an Indian wrestler named Jinder Mahal … or, you could go with the classic choices like The Rock or John Cena. There are millions that would join you on those options. Whoever you pick, you have to act like he or she (oh yes, there are divas who wrestle too) is the center of your world. You have to yell, cheer and really get into the big hits and the drama that happens backstage. Nobody beats your superstar.

The best thing about the WWE, however, would be going to a live event. Of course, University kids would stick out like sore thumbs, so you have to suit up in very hick-like clothing and WWE apparel. You also must bring a funny sign to hold up to get on TV. For example, I enjoyed seeing the sign “If Cena wins we riot!” You have to yell, react to all big hits, have aggressive banter with other fans and go all out. If you do this, drink lots of beer, and of course have a designated driver. I guarantee it would be a good time.

WWE Smack Down is coming to Wilkes-Barre, Pa. on May 22. This is two days after graduation, and y’all better believe I’ll be in attendance. If you want to join, we should gather a large group of University students to take it over. Tweet me about it, @improvize.