The clock strikes 11:00 p.m. You’re in Rosenparty, the adderall is wearing off and you’ve resorted to looking at pictures of calzones. You wander into Mark’s–the sight of soggy, plastic-wrapped sandwiches almost kills your appetite–but not quite. Desperation is imminent. So what’s it gonna be, bb? We consulted our fanciest food astrologists, and now we have all the answers. Read on to find out what your late night study snack really says about you.
Anything from La Petite Creperie–You are that guy: the overeager kid at the 7th grade spring dance in the baby blue tux and bow tie, except that bow tie is covered in mozzarella and creamy feta, calling out “eat me!” in Salma Hayek’s voice–sorry, what were we saying? We can’t concentrate because we’re staring at your food. Read the rest of this entry »