If you're in search of a new Saturday night clubhouse for you and your crew - look no further, the Corner Bistro is just the place. Located at 331 W. 4th St in the West Village.

Sometimes you want to go, Where everybody knows your name, and they're always glad you came. Not happening at 1020? Well, it probably won't happen at the Corner Bistro either. I've been frequenting the bar for nearly four years now and to this day the bartender still refuses to know name, let alone my drink. But the Bistro cannot be written off as just another amateur haunt with a lax ID policy.

Located on the corner of Jane and West 4th Streets, the Bistro has inviting charm that lends itself to all occasions. Really there is never a wrong time to go to the Bistro. Whether you're pre-gaming, celebrating Saturday night, or just passing through for your night-cap, you'll always be glad you came. But stopping by for a weekend lunch, when the afternoon sunlight comes streaming through the bar's front windows, is hard to beat.

A bouncer at one of the area bars that Bwog frequents tells us that all bars around campus are getting ID scanners within the next two weeks. Furthermore, according to the buzz: Columbia's footing the bill. They must really hate us...

One of our favorites from Orientation 2006.

It's your first day at Columbia. Mom and Dad just drove back to New Jersey, and you are ready to celebrate your newfound freedom. But wait. Shit! You've heard that Columbia is an awful party school. They say the only fun thing to do here is cocaine, but you don't want to put anything in your nose. You're planning on being pre-med; noses are for sneezing.

You want to drink. Well never fear: did you know you can overcome homesickness by drinking? Bwog contributor Will Snider channels this spirit to conjure a typical first night out during Orientation Week. So sit back, relax, and forget everything you learned from alcohol.edu. Remember, you're pre-med. You know that shit.

10:30pm -- Your Floor Meeting just ended. After learning from your RA "what it means to be part of a vibrant campus community," you're ready to kill some brain cells. Rob, that sort of sketchy guy on your floor who wears way too much Axe deodorant and brags about being from Buffalo, pulls out a handle of Nikolai vodka and punches you in the stomach saying, "It was made in Kentucky, so you know it's good." Someone brings out four shot glasses, and you chase the drinks with the Gatorade your mother bought at Sam's Club for you. Everyone on your floor comes out to this makeshift party. Suddenly, you begin to think Columbia might not be so socially awkward after all.

10:45pm — Your floormates are now all passed out in the common room. By your seventh call to CAVA the dispatcher knows your name, and you begin to wonder why you didn't just go to Michigan. So what if it's a state school? You decide to venture beyond Carman Hall.

11:20pm — After your cousin's old fake ID is rejected by 1020, Nacho's, the Heights, and even the Abbey (despite seeing what appear to be 12-year-old girls being admitted), you give up and begin to walk back to Carman. Out of nowhere a guy in a polo shirt who reeks of cigarettes and jungle juice assaults you. He slaps you on the ass and tells you to rush Pike—even if you're a girl. Suddenly you find yourself in a dark room with a sticky floor, surrounded by sweaty men and girls in short skirts, and you realize you're in a frat house. You didn't even know Columbia had fraternities. How did all these people get into Columbia? (Hint: they were once just like you. Almost.) At the frat party you squint your eyes to find the keg in the dark.

Also, why are there police surrounding International Wine and Liquors? If first-years can't buy alcohol safely, they might just actually end up at NSOP events...

Touche for now, NSOP.

Bwog coffeeshop reviewer Downing Bray took a break from caffeine this week in the Caribbean, and made it home to tell the tale. Her hazy memories follow.

Jamaica, it seems, was the place to be this spring break. On this sunny island of white beaches and clear blue water, of abundant Red Stripe and weed, many a Columbian could be spotted sunning, perhaps with a beer or joint in hand, showing off their bathing attire and nascent tans . . . or more likely their lack thereof (got neither? No problem mon!). In Negril, on the very western tip of the island, pale New Yorkers mingled with hordes of other college spring breakers (and high schoolers—they only tell you their age after the hook-up). Days disappeared while we sprawled on the beach, sloshing in the ocean while sloshed, or tripping over the sand munching on a special cake. Nights were basically the same, minus the sun and plus much more sloshing and tripping. Adorned with multiple fluorescent wristbands, Columbians jumped from bar to open bar while and experiencing the joys of easily accessible weed (check out the back pocket of the guy in the yellow shirt). Along with pot, throngs of locals sold fruit and souvenirs, lobsters and patties, parasail adventures and booze cruises—other than tourism, all the Jamaican economy has going for it is something called bauxite, so we're walking meal tickets.

Hot spots included Rick's Bar, the site of cliff-jumping and endless drunken pick-up lines; Margaritaville, the pivotal gathering point of trashy spring breakers, equipped with a water trampoline, cheesy decoration and a live stage featuring horrible music; and The Jungle, the nightclub where Grammy-nominee Beenie-Man reggaed the night away. Suffice it to say, midterm stress faded away, whether through enjoying the jerk chicken or taking advantage of . . . other things. Coming from the land where every little thing is gonna be alright to the snow-covered sidewalks of Columbia has been rough—blurry Negril memories, plus sand still stuck in my suitcase, will have to see me through till summer.

Good weather, apparently, begets genius. Earlier today, a commenter left the following on the Think Coffee review: "i propose we get a gaggle of cu students together to go down to think on scrabble nights (thursdays??) and kick some nyu ass." Kick some NYU ass? Something we do both far too much and yet not enough at all. Within hours, inboxes were filled, IMs were sent: Columbia University would have a Scrabble team, and Bwog would gingerly poke fun. However, a quick phone call to Think laid down the kibosh (15 points)--the Scrabblers had left for Brooklyn, or something. So Bwog's competitive spirit changed gears: TRIVIA NIGHT.

Here's the plan. Bwog wants to start a super-quiz team with the sole purpose of putting Tisch students in their place. We hear The Baggot Inn, one block off Washington Square Park, is the pinnacle of both the NYU and the five boroughs trivia set--but since Bwog knows only what's on the undersides of Snapple caps, we need some stellar quizzers to out-quiz NYU, and we'll split the comped bar tab when you win.

Try-outs will be informal — if you're interested, send your name, phone number, and a good time to chat to bwog@columbia.edu. We'll call sometime soon to ask, "Which New York 'university' is about to get their shit handed to them in a Morton-Williams bag?" Answer correctly and you're in. We'll most likely be training on Wednesday nights at our own La Negrita, then getting some road experience around the city before going for the title on a Tuesday night at Baggot's. Or hell, maybe we'll just rush'em next week and bank on first-timers' luck.

- BPM

It's your first day at Columbia. Mom and Dad just drove back to New Jersey, and you are ready to celebrate your newfound freedom. But wait. Shit! You've heard that Columbia is an awful party school. They say the only fun thing to do here is cocaine, but you don't want to put anything in your nose. You're planning on being pre-med; noses are for sneezing.

You want to drink. Well never fear: did you know you can overcome homesickness by drinking? Bwog contributor Will Snider channels this spirit to conjure a typical first night out during Orientation Week. So sit back, relax, and forget everything you learned from alcohol.edu. Remember, you're pre-med. You know that shit.

10:30pm -- Your Floor Meeting just ended. After learning from your RA "what it means to be part of a vibrant campus community," you're ready to kill some brain cells. Rob, that sort of sketchy guy on your floor who wears way too much Axe deodorant and brags about being from Buffalo, pulls out a handle of Nikolai vodka and punches you in the stomach saying, "It was made in Kentucky, so you know it's good." Someone brings out four shot glasses, and you chase the drinks with the Gatorade your mother bought at Sam's Club for you. Everyone on your floor comes out to this makeshift party. Suddenly, you begin to think Columbia might not be so socially awkward after all.

Ye Olde Dorkery Abounds at ye CUSFS tonight

Ever wondered what "Ye" really meant? Like to fantasize about
wearing the clothing of ages where comfort hadn't been invented
yet? Want to pick up a sword and start swinging in a somewhat more
legal setting? Come to Ye Exciting Renaissance Faire Meeting!
Wednesday, February 8th, Megan (our chancellor of the exchequer)
will be bringing her period garb -- and some other goodies -- and
talking about the fun to be had at renfaires. Dragons! Wenches!
Chainmail-making demo! Don't miss it, 'cause we'll be partying
like it's 1599.*


*Minus the drunken brawls.**

**Unless you ask very nicely.

Time: 8:00 on Wednesday (today)
Place: East Ramp Lounge in Lerner
What: Everything you wanted to know about Ren-Faires and more