Confirmed and denied

Weekly Editors


Last summer, when Matt Cozza, Communication grad ’05, and two fellow NU alums went out to dinner, they found themselves missing something to dip their fries in. So they did the logical – they stole some ketchup from the next table over. “My friends are really obsessed with ketchup, it’s almost their favorite food,” Cozza says of pals Erika Warren and Adam Sedrowski. “I’m just kind of a normal ketchup user, but I enjoy it as much as the next person.”

Little did they know that bottle of Heinz would change their lives: A label on the side advertised a contest the brand was hosting, offering $57,000 and TV airplay to the creators of the winning pro-ketchup commercial. Their project, which they completed in about a week, placed among the top 10 out of more than 2,000 entries. It was inspired by their original ketchup conundrum. “It kind of comes down to one last table with no ketchup, the people kind of freak out,” says Cozza, who produced the 30-second segment (no fear: The waitress finally rescues the couple with a bottle). The scenario isn’t quite a farce: While Warren requires the condiment on fries, burgers and sandwiches, Sedrowski packs his own ketchup or picks up a bottle at the store before going to friends’ homes, Cozza says.

The commercial that gets the most online votes wins the grand prize, which probably does not include any ketchup. But Cozza doesn’t mind. Though he and friends have consumed “at least” seven bottles of ketchup since they shot the commercial in August, there are still six bottles leftover. “If it works out, I’m sure there will be a lot of ketchup at the victory party,” Cozza says. “Maybe a giant bowl of fries with a moat around it or something.”


Earlier this week, hot pink stiletto-adorned flyers hawking free eyebrow waxes and paraffin hand treatments appeared across campus. The event? A free “Spa Night” at the Orrington scheduled for this evening, sponsored by the vaguely titled Women of Worth, or WoW.

By Tuesday morning, the anonymous, and likely fictitious, “Womyn of Worth” had weighed in with nearly identical – albeit combat-booted – flyers mocking WoW’s message.

“Being a womyn of worth doesn’t mean you have to wear stupid fucking high heels or attend a wackass [sic] spa night,” the signs read. “Amen.” As for the original WoW, God is in the details: It’s actually a campus ministry, not the feminist group or female business organization the name might imply. It was founded last year by Chelsea Thompson, a Weinberg junior, as an alternative to Sex Week. Thompson, and her vandalized flyers, advocate “embracing and preserving our womenhood.”

Wednesday afternoon, Thompson spoke on WYLL, a local Christian AM radio station, on The Sandy Rios Show about the “hooking-up” culture on college campuses, as her blog details. She also writes that she was angry about the “poster fiasco.” And then prayed. “Boy was this one a biggie,” writes Thompson on the blog. “I have tried to censor as much as possible for little eyes.”

By last night, 176 women were pre-registered for the event, and WoW had received over $1,000 in monetary donations, according to her prayer-request-filled blog. In light of the “womyn”-ly troubles, Thompson writes that she has “legitimate concerns” about the safety of participants – that’s prayer No. 8.


To prepare for an upcoming “Family Feud” fundraiser, the do-gooders in NU’s Special Olympics benefit chapter are polling the student body to find out some campus trivia. They’re asking stuff like, “What would you not want living in your dorm?” (Answers: animals, annoying roommate, roommate’s boyfriend) and “What is a reason for kneeling?” (Answers: Activity you would do in a church, athletic stretching, question involving a ring). “There are definitely a whole range of answers,” says Weinberg senior Jillian Durkin, co-president of the organization. In the spirit of the feud-style competition, she is keeping most of the responses confidential, but is giving up a few clues. In the running for “hottest professor,” there is a speed-dating researcher, an in-demand econ adviser and a gay history lecturer. But for that category, Durkin says, a lot of respondents just couldn’t think of an answer. Go figure.