Word: fm
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Considering my obsession with Menu Man, it was only natural that I should get to do the story on and interview with Him. (When the idea was suggested at FM's weekly meeting, I snatched the Interview with a ferocity that, in retrospect, shocks me.) I called Michael Berry, Director of Harvard Dining Services, to see if he could arrange the meeting; it reminded me of 6th-grade hook-ups. I felt like such a putz, but there was no way I could instigate my rendezvous with Menu Man, was there? Berry's gut reaction was not propitious...
...crowd also shared a love for a certain five-leafed plant. We at FM politely refused several offers (having given it up for Lent), but benefitted from the effects of sitting downwind from a multi-generational trio who seemed bent on proving the old adage, "The family that smokes together, stays together...
...Here at FM, eyes grow moist upon recalling that fateful weekend in April of years past, when we ourselves first tasted the sweet fruit of the veritas vine. Or was it the wine made from the fermented fruit? Ah, yes, the joys of pre-frosh weekend. We recall the Scarlet Folders (so shameful!, the endless self-introductions, the relentless lines at the Union, the roving packs of frustrated party-seekers, the foamy keg in Matthews, the Greys party's recycling bin filled with vodka and Kool-Aid...and that's all we remember...
Noah's never ending findings courtesy of the Harvard University Archives, FM, and Our Lord...
Considering that I didn't receive your postcard before the three days were up, I assume you have been eaten. Oh, well. You should have used Fed Ex. If, for some reason, you get this week's FM and you're still alive, here's my advice: first, eat the pigeon-you must be hungry; second, save yourself and join the Boston Church of Christ like they've asked-it's not a cult, really...