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“Terrace Offerings”

Post-bicker, still a long way from Houseparties, grinding into week 3 with midterms kind of sort of already looming on the horizon. It’s still winter. We’re still cold. Course shopping is over and now we have to, like, seriously work.

But as much of a drag as the next few weeks may be, it’s okay! Not only are we coming back with more frequent blog posts to serve your procrastin-tertainment needs, but sophomore Terrans will also be brightening up your February with offerings all around campus. For the uninitiated, new members of Terrace have to perform tasks in varying degrees of shamelessness, usually in public, before they become full members. That probably explains any peculiar events you’ve been running into on campus. Like, the single ladies dance outside Glee Club rehearsal:

Or Gandalf blocking the Fitzrandolph Gates:

So chin up, Princeton! Spring will be here soon. In the meantime, we still have Beyoncé, the Ink, spouts of Terran miscellany, and of course, our Thursday and Saturday nights. Keep carrying on.

Javelin, or, this month's sweetest show.

Javelin, or, this month's sweetest show.

After Fall semester’s pretty low profile concert scene, which concluded with that ill Ghostface Killah Edan Portnoy performance, many were left craving live tunage.

And their cravings were probably … err … maybe satisfied given this month’s recent shedulings. That said, even if B.O.B.’s not coming back for round 2, the end of February and beginning of March is gon’ bounce and bounce hard. Today we take a look at some of Terrace’s February shows and one March show.

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Emilio Campos ’12 has a first name that sort of sounds like Mario. Therefore, it is only natural that he attire himself in Mario’s iconic red-and-blue duds and take to Frist Campus Center in a rolly-chair, armed with cardboard Koopa shells and banana peels. For the uninitiated, these are the trademark weapons of Mario Kart, the ever-popular Nintendo video game series.

On February 15th (evidently after embarking from an elevator full of poor unsuspecting older women), Campos and a friend rolled gleefully around Frist (with a megaphone, admittedly not part of the traditional Mario arsenal), squealing those classic squeals and blaring that classic soundtrack, lobbing peels and shells with giddy abandon. He did no less than three rounds and filled the room with (at best) smiles and (at worst) grimaces. I was there (see 1:38), I was smiling, and I bravely endured a shell to the face.

But why? Apparently all fresh new sophomore members of Terrace Club have to do some sort of “offering” to the club. I think he chose wisely.