Sandwich Grill Etiquette

Posted by | Lighthearted, Ormondian | No Comments

…or lack of. This isn’t school sport. This isn’t playing in the backyard with your friends. This isn’t a walk in the park. This is war, son. There’s no such thing as etiquette when it comes to nutrition. There is just you and the prize. What’s the prize? Glory (and a delicious melted cheese, tuna, avocado, mayonnaise and hummus sanger in your sweaty, salty hands), at any cost. Too many poindexters hold back with their pussy HTC sandwiches waiting in line to toast their malnutritious glob of wholemeal flaps. If any of you get in my way I’ll throw an elbow your way. Read More


Back Gate Etiquette

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Every Ormondian will be familiar with the dilemma of back gate etiquette: the question of when and for how long to hold it open for an oncoming resident. While our proxies give us entry to Ormond with a simple swipe, we feel obliged to hold the gate open when we see a resident coming along behind us. Read More


BRCs with Tommy Walsh

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Anyway, don’t know what these mugs have been talkin about in the rest of this bloody mag (I usually just look at the pics) but fair dinkum it’s time for a brc (bloody ripper call for the uninitiated) with yours truly, Tommy Walsh. It’s the first one for the year, so ya know it’ll be an ac (absolute corker for youse trinity bastards out there). So me an’ me mates often hang out in the JCR, bloody beautiful place, and chatting about all sorts of stuff, sure as Phil loves ‘Rattle’. Read More


Literotica: The Sandwich Comes First

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As she swiped herself into the servery and pushed her way through the cold, metal bars, she felt the heat pulsate from behind the glass partition. Her hands moved to grasp a plate; it was fresh from the dishwasher, warm and moist. The choice of meal was difficult; did she want a hot dog, or a salami sandwich? It was impossible to decide, but she felt herself drawn towards the sandwich bar. Read More