Dennis: For those of you (all five, what up!) who have been reading me all year, you know that a recurrent theme in this space is alternatively liking, loving and hating Dickinson. Well, somewhere in the urban wasteland* of this college lurks an unwashed Mikey Lenane ’12. Early in his first year here, Lenane received word from Cornell that they would provisionally accept him for fall 2009. (The acceptance came so late because he put “Mikey” as his name on the SATs. You can’t make this s--t up.) Lenane is the perfect dipstick for the health of the college’s relationship with its students, because despite an offer from the Ivy League, he decided to stay in south-central Pennsylvania. Mikey, three and a half years later, are you glad that you made that decision?

Mikey: That’s something I’ve thought about a lot over the years— at first, I really wasn’t. Speaking as a classic geed,* I think it takes a little while to get settled in socially on this campus. Even though I’m a pretty sick bro—that is, I drink, I hang out—I didn’t think Greek life was for me. One of the problems with Dickinson in my opinion is that the nature of the social scene is inherently exclusive because of limited space and high risk. With that said, I am glad I’ve stayed. It’s been a great experience. I love all my roommates—Dave Breen, Bobby Wise, Matt Gibbs - those are guys I couldn’t live without. I’ll always remember that Jeremy Lins and Unforgivable Sins party when Bobby drained 16 straight cups to send it to overtime. To me, that sort of camaraderie and happiness with those kind of guys is what it’s all about, and I wouldn’t trade my time at Dickinson for anything.

D: Ha ha, we’re friends.*. Dammit- I really thought that this rendezvous would be more of a classic two-man dynamic.* On a serious note, though, that last bit sounds hedonistic. I recall you saying in an extremely bizarre video you sent out to our entire study abroad program, (including one Karl Qualls), “I am a hedonist. I believe that the only good is pleasure, and the only evil is pain.”

M: Study abroad. Go on.*

D: I think you’d agree that that’s another reason we’re glad we ended up at Dson—the time we spent in England. (And by extension, the investment the school puts into global education.) Classic.

M: Study abroad was a game-changer, you’re right. I thank Dickinson because I wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t such a priority at this school, and now I feel like I would go anywhere. My whole life philosophy was shaped there, and I think it works, for the most part. You see, there are only so many f--ks a man can give—

D: Your lack of f--k-giving certainly explains how you lost your keys twice in three weeks and had to get our locks changed to the tune of $100 - money well spent. (Although, to be fair, the first time you lost your keys, it was at that sick Yoga Pantses and Grave Countenances party. YPs are great, but there are no pockets in those things.)

M: Exactly. And you can’t waste said f--ks on just anything, like if anyone’s watching when you pee. Like when we touched down in Paris and I’d forgotten to get a hotel but we walked around for an hour and found one, six blocks from the Eiffel Tower, for 25 euros a night. Or when I showed up 20 minutes late for a class twice last week and there were professor evaluations both days. Boom. Didn’t even matter that I was so hung over I could barely see, from that Bill Durden’s and White Man’s Burdens party the night before.

D: That was Tuesday, but what about Thursday?

M: Oh, Wednesday was Freshman Girls with Braces and Notable Supreme Court Cases at Denny 4.

D: How could I forget?

M: Like I was saying about not giving a f—k: on Saturday night, when I got stopped for public urination—

D: That would have been your third stop at the urination station in front of an officer of the pseudo-law! Let me paint you a picture: it’s 3:00 in the morning. There are two grills on Britton Plaza, left over from a DPS meet-and-greet. Plumes of smoke billow out of each. Mikey, with a sigh of relief, sat down. Thirty minutes later, he was receiving a citation. Three and a half years later, we live in GY3, an apartment with heinous* acoustics and leaky floorboards, among other amenities. We applied to live off-campus, but ResLife told us that Mikey had a “stain” on his record.

M: Caughtem.* Irregardlessly,* this time around, the officer let me go because I graduate in two weeks. Saturday was something else, actually. After an extended period of imbibing at the KOVE Foods and All Dudes-themed pregame, I saw the queen of self-calls* herself, Professor Moffat in George’s.

D: If K. Wendy Moffat is the queen of self-calls, then Tom Reed has to be the king, right? And dare I say that Will Nelligan is the crown prince?

M: In a post-9/11 world,* yes, definitely. That reminds me of another reason that I’m glad I came here—the faculty. Both the competence and the intimacy of the relationships you can form with them. And I mean that in an entirely legal sense. (Except it wouldn’t be illegal so I need a different line. But you catch the jizz* of it). They’re available all the time and actually interested in helping you. Heck, I went over to Professor Moffat’s for drinks after the Cogan Dinner and have never even had a class with her. My creative writing seminar is going out to Alibi’s to celebrate our last class, with the great Susan Perabo, tonight. You can’t ask for much more than that.

Back to the urination though. I fear I’ve strayed too far from that. Saturday was big for me because I’ve always had the distinct feeling that DPS was out looking to get students in trouble. And my opinion hasn’t necessarily changed. But it was nice to see a human side to an officer, when he could have, by all rights, gotten me in some deep s--t.

D: I’m glad you mentioned the academic experience. That’s been really positive for me too: I genuinely think we must have one of the best political science departments in the country (once led by the immortal J. Mark Ruhl), and outside of the department, I’ve had borderline life-changing experiences with Profs. Bair and Chilson.

M: That reminds me, you’re a politics guy—how did you feel about that Bikini Waxes and Lower Taxes cocktail hosted by the College Republicans? D: Conflicted. But as much fun as I’ve had going hamnesia* on Fridays, Saturdays and the occasional Tuesday, and as much as I’ve gained in the classroom, the most enduring aspect of my time here will definitely be the experiences that I’ve shared and endured with the cross-country and track teams. I’ll never forget what a runner from Haverford said to one of our guys last spring (after we won our sixth conference championship in three years; self-call city, population douchebag): “Four years competing in this conference— it’s been a lot of heartbreak, a lot of glory, everything I’ve ever wanted.” The highs and lows, the friendships forged on countless hilly nine-mile runs, the huge PRs and brutal injuries, constantly managing time to commit to academics and running, the championships dramatically won and lost—man, if that’s not the epitome of sports contributing to an education, then I don’t know what is.

M: Sports? I thought you were talking about the track team.

D: You’re absolutely right. Your three runner-up finishes and one team title won in IM sports massively outweigh the six times that we beat one of the best track programs in Division III for a conference championship, or my incredibly impressive school record in the indoor co-ed 4x400 meter relay.*

M: Now you understand! Irregardlessly, though, when it comes to the track team, ya gotta respect* what they do. However, it doesn’t change the fact that you little b--chboys cannot drink.

D: Oh. Go. On.

M: Remember that time in the fall when we had the men’s XC seniors over? I haven’t seen so many 130-pound dudes going hog wild after three drinks since 8th grade. You guys got a lot to learn.* A lot to learn.

D: Sorry, I can’t hear you from up on your high horse. That potshot at us is probably warranted, although I’ll take getting torqued* easily as a consequence of working hard day in, day out.

M: Yeah, man. All of that hard training is probably why you didn’t not get invitedn’t* to Nu Man, right? Funny story: a campus sorority holds a series of events every year in which they “chill” with a select group of senior guys. Nay, men. Irregardlessly, the four non-Dennis members of our apartment were invited to join this select group. We taped our invitations to Dennis’ bedroom door. They have hung there throughout the school year.

D: FCK!* That’s heinous, but ya gotta respect it. Well, dear readers, I hope that you enjoyed this unique piece.

M: I’ll show you a unique piece!

D: Even though Mikey could not have included any more references to drinking (sick, bro!) and his refusal to shower daily or–

M: Actually, a lovely young lady actually said to me the other day, “You rarely smell.” Caughtem.

D: –or ever do laundry is bizarre and irksome, we still managed to agree on some pretty serious affection for this school and our time here.

M: Totally. Also, there’s no one at this school that I would want to have a threesome with less. All kidding aside, I really do feel like the friendships and bonds that I’ve established at this school won’t go up in smoke like so many streams of urine. But make sure that you put in that part about the threesome.

Dennis and Mikey Decoded:

---n’t: The contraction for “not”, adding this to the end of words makes the clause negative; also a way to achieve the rare triple negative.

Caught ‘em: when “catching” one’s verbal foil; can be said by either parties. Sometimes used ironically and, rarely, meta-ironically.

FCK: A truncation of an obscenity. Pronounced exactly as it is spelled, through the teeth, with no vowels, in all capital letters. Often accompanied with a leap, flex, or other gestures.

Geed: God Damn Independent; GDI for short, or “geed” for shorter. Someone who is not involved in Greek life or varsity athletics.

“Go on”: Literally, continue your activity or speech; possibly sexually connoted.

“Ha ha, we’re friends”: Said in response to being mocked by a friend, usually in a pathetic tone of voice that indicates that the strength of said friendship is somewhat questionable. It should be noted, for context, that Dennis is Mikey’s fourth roommate. See also, “we’re all friends here.”

Hamnesia: The combination of going “HAM” (an acronym for “hard as a motherf—ker,” popularized by K. West) and getting amnesia that often occurs when so-called “bros” consume adult beverages.

Indoor co-ed 4x400m relay: A track & field event that has been held one time in the last six years.

Irregardlessly: Less of a word than its non-stem “irregardless.” Irregardlessly, it is used to redirect conversation.

Post 9/11 world: A slogan simultaneously originated in the Republican Party and GMC truck commercials, ca. 2002. Appears to mean almost nothing.

Self-call: Defined as obliquely or directly referencing one’s accomplishments, talents or possessions.

Torqued: Inebriated or intoxicated.

Two-man dynamic: An amiable “sesh” or conversation between two male friends; the antithesis of the three-man dynamic, where vitriol and animosity reign. Urban wasteland: Goodyear Apartments.

Ya gotta respect: Used to indicate the existence of an imperative to respect someone or something; connotes a lack of desire to convey said respect, but acknowledges the necessity.

You got a lot to learn: Said to one who has a dearth of knowledge and/or experience. Often used by the majority in a three-man dynamic (see above) in conjunction with “A lot to learn” for emphasis.