I would like to add a delicious diner to the list of eateries enumerated on pages 8 - 9:
For the biggest/ best pancakes in the Upper Valley take 1-91 South until exit 10N. Then take I-89 North until Exit 3. Take a left at the end of the exit ramp and proceed straight for less than a mile. Alone on the hill before you stands a diner scavenger’s Mecca: Eaton’s Sugarhouse. As the name implies, they have amazing maple syrup to smother your pancakes or waffles in. Try the home fries. Trust me.
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On a day like today, the better part of campus is cursing the schizophrenic weather, struggling to get out of bed for anything less than blue skies and 60-degree days. But not me. I like my beach afternoons on the green just fine, but when the skies turn grey and clouds pile up, the coming rain means good news for me. Rain means river levels come up. Rain means I get to go kayaking.
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Dear Hannah and Anna,
What they didn’t tell me at room draw last year is that the walls of my dorm are literally paper thin. Which wouldn’t be a problem, if my neighbor and her boyfriend didn’t hump like rabbits. I’ve dealt with the squeals and bumps for over two terms, but it’s getting ridiculous and my lack of sleep is starting to affect my GPA. How can I tactfully yet forcefully get them to stop doing it?
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White River Junction is home to several junctions: it is where the White River joins the Connecticut River, where I-89 meets I-91, and where a handful of mothballed rail lines merge.
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Would you rather make-out with your mother or spend a humid summer night naked in a hammock with your father? It’s a tough choice. I have spent a good portion of my young adult life debating such questions. Some would say there is no way to answer such a question. These people are missing the big picture. If you were in a life or death situation, you would have to choose. And you wouldn’t want to let your parents down.
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DDS has been dished a lot of beef lately by our student bod. Among other things, people are unhappy about the 2006 Topside spending reforms, frustrated by the 2,006 people in the pasta line at Collis, and fearful of a surprise attack by Homeplate’s vicious Chipwich Monster. In this time of crisis, I’d like to invite my fellow Dartmouth diners to calm down, grab one of those new Novack lattés, and join me on a little tour of the less riot-inducing aspects of DDS. Hopefully you will leave with a new appreciation for Dartmouth’s fine dining experience.
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I’ve spent the day expecting that, at any moment, the car driving by me will explode. I’ve been amazed at the lack of long, dramatic jumps I’ve had to make (only three so far) and nobody has responded to my code conversations. What the hell. Why may you ask (didn’t you read the title of this article)?
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It seems students are making more of an effort in the style department … and it warms my heart. But there is still a desperate sandal situation. Ladies, style doesn’t end at the ankle. Current Dartmouth favorites are boring and safe.
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