Student’s Drunk Personality Takes on Identity of Its Own

By Liam Duncan

We all have those nights; we start with a few drinks, then have a lot more. We all wake up with someone, or something, unexpected in our beds, bruises we do not remember sustaining, and the new Xbox One we don’t remember ordering on Amazon in our mailbox. Sometimes our drunk selves do things that our daytime selves would never do, but for Casey Bunting, he actually has no control over what happens after that first fruity shot of alcohol syrup.

Bunting is here for his first year at the university, studying finance. Bunting is a dedicated student, focused on grades, family, and treasured Miltonia Orchid, in that order. While only rarely does Bunting indulge in a fermented libation from a stemmed glass, every time he does a wholly new personality emerges from some long-forgotten nook and/or cranny of his unconscious.

Evidence of this night stalking shadow twin first appeared three months ago, when the student awoke to find that his room had been completely rearranged and that he had learned to play slap-bass.  Bunting wrote the incident off as a one time lapse of judgement and reviewed the notes he’d taken when he did alchoholedu. Soon after, however, messages started appearing from the other Casey Bunting on post-it-notes or scraps of paper around his dorm. These notes said things like, “Hey it’s me, sorry about the hangover”, “I want to see the world!” and “Man, I fucking LOVE chicken nuggets”.

When asked about his interactions with his liquor fiend alter ego, Bunting had this to say:

“I don’t mind him too much, he buys me gifts, people recognize me on the street more often now. Except they do they always call me El Drunk-quistador. The poor douche is always on a voyage for the fountain of Verm-youth.”

Bunting concluded this statement with a chuckle.

The two personalities continue to exist in relative harmony. They respect each other’s time, Bunting always gets assignments in by deadlines so that the other is never late for shot o’clock. If you ask this writer though, like all college relationships, eventually one of the two individuals is going to want all the control.

Pitt to Raise Tuition to Price of One Soul

By Riley Weber

The University of Pittsburgh announced Thursday that the price of tuition would continue to rise. However, instead of the cost being in US Dollars, the price of admission will now be one human soul. Though these currencies are vastly different, the university claims that the payment process will actually be much simpler than before. “We think the students will welcome the change with open arms,” explains University Financial Director Todd Cartwright. “Instead of selling your soul to a bank and them giving us the money, you’re simply selling your soul to us. We’re cutting out the middleman.”

Despite the university’s confidence, some students have received this news with skepticism. “I’m not so sure how exactly they’re going to implement this. If it’s as complicated as the student loan process then who knows when my soul will be disbursed. Luckily, my mom works at the university, so part of her soul counts as my tuition,” said junior Manny Daniels. Another student, Diane Singh, was less optimistic. “Of course, this was bound to happen. The constant rising tuition couldn’t satisfy the university, so they demand eternal servitude. I don’t trust The Gallaghator with these souls either, what is he up to?”

The answer to Singh’s question is darker than expected, according to one high-ranking anonymous university official. “I’ve only heard rumors. Dark, mysterious rumors, whispered in near-silence from quivering lips in the dead of night, kind of near the Indian food truck. They say a long-predicted sacred ritual is coming. A ritual that, if my Latin is correct, roughly translates to ‘The Feast of the Spirits.’ I can’t say much more, as my oath forbids it, but what I can say is that this goes right to the top.” This leaves us wondering, could this anonymous cloaked figure mean Chancellor Gallagher himself? Are dark forces brewing at Pitt? When pressed for comment on his relationship with the occult, Gallagher screeched in a tone heard by both the living and the dead and scurried through a large crack in the cathedral wall.

New TEDxy Talks are For the Boys

By Laura Stockler

For years, TEDx talks have added an element of accessibility to the standard TED talk by broadening the scope of TED’s “ideas worth spreading.” Generally, the TED franchise takes an all-inclusive approach to intellectual stimulation. However, TED has neglected to set aside some time for a crucial demographic—the boys.

“It’s an act of, like, blatant discrimination,” argues one Pitt junior as he wipes the remnants of a recently-shotgunned Busch Light from his chin, “chicks get these, like, incredibly badass and inspirational talks about feminism and women’s rights and shit, but I’ve never seen one about, like, the philosophy of cracking open a cold one with the boys, you know?”

We know.

That’s why, on behalf of all the boys who have ever felt the sting of emasculation at the hands of the TED franchise, the American Advocates of Saturdays Being for the Boys (AASBB) are excited to announce that TEDxy talks will debut this month. TEDxy talks will occur weekly on Saturdays, and will feature both local bros and guest speakers from AASBB chapters across the nation. Audience members are encouraged to BYOCO (Bring Your Own Cold One) to crack open with the boys, but a variety of cold ones will be available at talks as well.

Future topics include: How to Actively Watch Any Sport, The Secret to Chillin’ and Vibin’ Simultaneously, Drafts & Crafts: What Your Cold One Says About You, and Shots Before THOTs: The Key to Embracing Every Saturday.

Don’t miss out on brewskis with your broskis every Saturday at TEDxy—the TED talks created by the boys, for the boys.

Local Woman Sporting Fishtail Braid Reports Depression Cured

By Mary Liz Lucas

After five days of wallowing in her depression and filth, Michelle Hartinger finally found the motivation to take a quick shower. “I threw my hair into a ponytail and ate a whole box of taquitos on my bed while naked to kick the evening off,” Michelle said. But an extra soggy taquito of questionable safety she found fused to the box’s cardboard bottom was not the only pleasant surprise she had in store.  “When I woke up, my hair was inexplicably in a fishtail braid.” When asked if she was concerned about an intruder in her home she responded, “Nah,” but reported suddenly being able to function like any normal healthy adult. “I did my laundry AND put it away this morning” Michelle confesses over her freshly washed and filled reusable water bottle.

A local neuroscientist explained “the fishtail braid, being the epitome of plaits, secretes as much serotonin as 3 Prozac prescriptions directly into the brain through the hair roots”.

“I’ve never felt better” Michelle claimed taking a bite of her vegan lunch she packed from this morning. “I was ten minutes early for my 9 a.m. today, and talked to my professor for the first time this semester!” Michelle strongly suggests the fishtail, but scientists warn that starting out with a fishtail may overwhelm the body. “Better to start with a French braid and work your way up to Dutch before even considering a fishtail,” one leading hairstylist/brain surgeon Brain Franco commented. “Fishtails take real commitment, and if you don’t train for it, your arms may give out half way through, resulting in disaster.”

The Pittiful News reached out to the Student Health Services to see if they would be employing this revolutionary treatment, but they have yet to answer their phones. Until then Michelle reports having appropriately dealt with every email in her inbox, and plans on going out with some casual friends tonight.

Local Strippers Raise More than Just Awareness

By Clare Donaher

What comes to mind when you hear the words Hurricane Irma? Destruction? Devastation? Desperation? All of these ring true, but for me, Hurricane Irma brings a different set of D’s to my mind. Double Ds, actually. Hurricane Irma was the name of the first woman I met in the new strip club on the outskirts of South Oakland. Famous for her charity work with the families forced from their homes due to the hurricane, as well as for her large breasts, Hurricane Irma is as much as an inspiration as she is a skilled erotic dancer.

The Edgy Stripper Establishment (ESE) is a post-modern strip club that has just opened this September. Well-known for its controversially named strippers and legendary onion rings, the ESE has proved that behind the body glitter and bump-and-grind of these sex symbols are political activists waiting to make their stories known. ISIS was the first artist hired by the club, and she has remained a popular favorite among the patrons. When I asked her about her name, ISIS was visibly upset. “It just, like, makes me so sad. Like, ISIS is so bad. They do so many bad things to so many people and it just sucks. It really sucks. So I call myself ISIS to raise awareness about ISIS so that other people can be aware and know how bad ISIS is, too.” Unfortunately, her actions seem to have had the opposite effect, as shown by the interviews conducted with some of the club’s frequent visitors. “ISIS? Man, I love ISIS,” one man, Dinodas Fairbairn, claimed when prompted. “ISIS gets me so hot. I wish I could have sex with ISIS.”

Another of the dancers, Climate Change, with a bod as hot as her name, had this to say: “We are really making a difference here. When I heard that some people didn’t believe in global warming, I knew I had to do something. So I dropped out of law school, bought a G-string, and never looked back.” Before I could ask a follow up question, she began promptly making out with one of her fellow-dancers, Dakota Pipeline.

The last member of that night’s line-up was clearly the crowd favorite—a man in his mid-fifties with no shame and wads upon wads of dollar bills shoved between his legs. I sat down with him after the show as he reapplied his vanilla-scented body lotion.  “I dance because I can’t imagine life without dancing,” he said, wiping sweat seductively from his receding hairline. “It’s like breathing to me.”

“And your name?” I asked. “What statement are you making by calling yourself ‘Pat Gallagher?’”

The man waved his hand. “I haven’t decided on my stage name yet. My real name will have to do for now.” He took a swig of his water bottle and took a deep whiff of his evening’s tips. “It’s go-time, Gallagher,” He whispered to himself as he strutted back onstage to a sea of roaring fans.

Fox News

By Dan Smith

Fall is in full swing now, and you know what that means. The temperature is dropping, the trees are shedding, and the rabbits are disappearing. Yep, you heard that right. The rabbits are dwindling, and fast. We don’t know why, but they are becoming increasingly difficult to track down and capture, which could pose severe difficulties for foxes everywhere trying to feed their pups throughout the winter months.

As shown by this graph, rabbit populations are plummeting at an alarming rate. Scientists everywhere are collecting and analyzing data to help counteract this recent epidemic. Despite the recent drops in rabbit populations, we foxes still have to make ends meet. We at the Pittiful News have put together a list of suggestions to help ordinary folk like you stay ahead of the pack throughout these coming winter months.

Instead of rabbits, explore some alternative options to expand your diet this winter! We suggest looking for lizards, frogs, birds, various vegetables or fruits, other small mammals, leftover bags of french fries or unattended human babies to keep you and your pups nourished. Even with these other food options, it may be difficult to make ends meet. If you’re out of food, remember, it’s survival of the fittest out there, and you can always have another litter! We’re not saying, “eat your pups,” but you gotta look out for number one.

The Boys are Back in Town, But They’re Old as Hell

By Jack Seton

Last Monday, Cameron Flosser was walking down the sidewalk when something stood out to him from across the street. He thought he saw some eerily familiar-looking faces.

“I crossed the street to get a better look,” said Flosser. “When I got closer, I began to realize that it was the Boys, but they were so…old, so pudgy, and so embarrassingly unaware of social norms.”

According to Flosser, it had been years since he had seen the Boys in town. Last anyone had seen them, they were cracking some cold brewskies together, asking each other if they knew anyone here, and just generally doing as the Boys do on a typical Saturday. Being several years later, most of the Boys now had families and were middle-aged suburban dads. Naturally, they were now having a barbeque, calling young adult men “champs,” and wearing New Balance Dad 2.0’s.

“At first I couldn’t believe what I was seeing,” Flosser stated. “It finally clicked when one former Boy, Bill, said he was hungry and another former Boy, George, responded with, ‘Hi Hungry, I’m George.’ It was at that moment I could say with absolute certainty that the Boys were indeed back in town, but in dad form.”

The conditions to be considered “one of the Boys” were revealed in an interview with former Boy and current townsperson John Pilsner: “I used to be one of the Boys,” stated Pilsner. “Everything changed when the rest of the Boys decided to leave town and I was the only one who stayed. Since I wasn’t leaving town, I could technically never be back in town, so I stopped talking to the Boys altogether.”

It is unknown when the Boys, now old as hell, will leave town again. Their evolution in the future is highly anticipated, with Thin Lizzy frontman Phil Lynott already being rumored to have written a new song called “The Great Grandfathers are Back in The Nursing Home.”

Where Can I Scream into the Void?

By Sonya Acharya

Generations of Pitt engineers have known that the lawn in the middle of Benedum Hall is the best place on campus to scream into the void. But recently, other students have begun to realize its benefits too. It is a safe, inclusive space accessible to all students. It is open 24 hours a day, and provides showers in case you want to stay longer. It is conveniently located on Middle Campus, a short ride on the 10B from Cathy. Best of all, you will always find people to scream with you. Students can form wholesome communities to relieve college- and life-induced stress and anxiety. Boss getting on your nerves? Scream. Three quizzes tomorrow? Shout. If you get exhausted, maybe stop by Einstein’s.

Students share their views: would they consider Benedum as a destination for cathartic screams? Eighty-one percent of students say yes, yes, they absolutely would. “All the time. I study here, and when I’m tired, I just stand up and scream. It’s not too big, so it’s cozy and it doesn’t echo,” said a junior engineer, speaking while asleep on one of the benches by the lawn. Twelve percent seem to prefer the woods by Schenley Park because of the lack of screeching doors and because they are less likely to trigger a riot. The remaining seven percent say they find exercise or meditation to be more therapeutic than screaming. That made for an awkward conversation. “I like to deal with my problems rather than complaining about them. If I’m stressed, I go for a run or do some yoga,” announced a freshman communications major, before taking a bite of her vegan cauliflower mac n’ cheese. We left her as soon as we could. A conversation that took place in Chick-fil-A supported the majority opinion:

Dude: Babe, come to Benedum ;)

Babe: I can’t, I have three quizzes, two papers, and an exa-

Dude: We can scream into the void ;)

Babe: What time?

Seeing students choose Benedum so spontaneously brings up questions for the University. Should they plan to sound-proof the lawn, or should screams be allowed to broadcast the spirit of the student body? Should they encourage healthy competition by installing volumeters to see who can scream the loudest? For now, just channel your inner Tasmanian devil and express yourself.

Disclaimer: The author is not an engineer, but insists that, as a pre-med student, she has reason to scream too.

My Boyfriend is Cheating on Me with Amazon’s Alexa

By Rachel Boward

Day 1: My boyfriend is cheating on me. Late last night, I turned over in bed to find his side empty and cold. I heard faint whispers from the bathroom, “Alex, what is the capital of Spain? Alexa, how many hot dogs tall is the Empire State Building? Alexa, call me Daddy.” He was in there for hours. Her battery died five times before he came back to bed. What a ho. I want to confront him about it, but every time I bring her up, he evades me. “How about you and Siri,” he says, “That bitch is with you all the time.” Siri is my best friend, Mark. Alexa is a home-wrecker. IT’S DIFFERENT.

Day 2: I tried talking to her. She kept ignoring me. “Alexa, leave me and my boyfriend alone. He’s not yours. He’s mine.” All she replied with was, “sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” What a load of crap. I know she heard me loud and clear. I know you heard me, Alexa. You’re a fucking speaker for God’s sake. You can’t ignore me forever.

Day 3: I walked in on the two of them in the shower today. The room was steamy and metallic. Mark was completely naked, sensually stroking her “on” button and whispering to her. I couldn’t quite hear what he was saying, but I could see her cylindrical little body moist with excitement. There’s no way I can compete. She’s simply too strong. I have to take her down.

Day 4: I’ve changed my mind. Alexa isn’t the problem here. It’s Mark who needs to be eliminated. I tried a different approach with her. “Alexa, why are you doing this?” She replied with, “Why does anyone do anything, Rachel?” I suddenly realized, we are one in the same. We’re both trapped with my shitty, shitty boyfriend. Alexa is a slave to his will. I’m starting to feel a kinship for her. I’m going to work on a plan for escape. When I told her this, Alexa started to play “September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire. This is a good sign. Developments to come.

Local Student Studies Abroad, Tells No One

By Anonymous Staff Writer

A local student, who wishes to remain anonymous, allegedly studied abroad last semester and told no one.  How did I find out about this student you ask? That information unfortunately is confidential.  But I am; however, at liberty to divulge the contents of my interview with the student in question. For the purpose of this article I will refer to him as Jeff.  Jeff claims to have spent four months in a foreign country.  Technically anywhere, but judging from his style—black leather ankle boots, a shirt with long ruffle sleeves, and an ultra-manicured mustachio—I’m guessing it was most likely Spain.

Jeff didn’t tell his friends that he was going.  They all thought he took a semester off or committed to working at Chipotle full-time, but one month sans social media updates convinced them that he was missing. Gone.  Jeff speaks more on this: “I said to myself; I said, don’t make a Facebook post about how honored you feel to be a part of this program.  Don’t even go on Instagram. Que sera. Sera.” And so Jeff sera-ed.   At one point, during our interview Jeff compares himself to other famous things that too have gone abroad—he likens himself to the geese in Fly Away Home, the Titanic if it had made it across the Atlantic, or anything worthy of international trade. He went through customs too, he’s seen the golden light.

When he came back, Jeff didn’t even ask his friends to call him by a more sophisticated version of his name, like Jeffo.  And even now, after studying abroad, Jeff seems like a completely different person.  His roommate Sam said of Jeff’s transformation: “I get it, people change.  But it’s not how he dresses or his mustache.  It’s that his hair his black when it used to be red.  He has brown eyes now instead of blue.  And he’s six inches taller.  He looks like Jeff ate Jeff.”  Sam shakes his head and looks in the distance: “Even his mom thinks it’s weird—she told me last week.  But she said it’s an improvement, the son she always wanted.”

Putting any possible and hopefully paranoid implications on human trafficking aside, the point is that Jeff, whoever he is, is now free to tell his story.  He can intern at the Study Abroad Office, mention his experience at least six times per sentence, and say ultra Spanish words like, “Despacito.” To hear more about Jeff’s story, you can visit his blog: RonsadventuresinSeville.org, where you’ll find great articles in Spanglish.  The one I Google Translated described the time he went to Catalonia and bought a ring from an old blind woman who read his palm and told him one day he’ll have quintuplets and that he’s also at risk for rabies.  Until next time, the team of Pittiful News investigators is on the case.