Name: Emily Bocchino
Year: What’s it to you? I have a personal alarm keychain and I am NOT afraid to use it.
Major: Business, cookie eating, crippling self-doubt
Aesthetic: Extremely vain yet incredibly self-conscious.
Have you ever asked yourself, “Who is that beautiful girl sitting on the laundry room table, blowing her nose free of allergens, with a face that reads ‘Please oh god don’t talk to me, my mouth is full of cashews right now’?” Now you can learn all about the journalist behind all these articles and what’s going on underneath that harsh exterior of oversized sweaters and smudged glasses. (spoiler alert: it’s pure magic).
Emily Bocchino is usually found eating some sort of sandwich in her Smith dorm bed (she got the one on the floor as opposed to bed mountain because she explained to her roommate that she has frequent intense nightmares of falling off of the sidewalk that seem too realistic to risk) with crumbs on her stomach that she attempts only slightly to wipe off, but then continues to focus on the episode of Scrubs playing on her laptop.
Emily has other talents besides writing hard-hitting articles and her ability to do a semi-accurate impression of her 88-year-old grandmother from Long Island. She’s excellent at taking hysterical selfies, has started her own business, manages to get dressed pretty nicely everyday according to her friends (although she really wishes she could just dress like the colonial woman she was born to be) and was once known to say, “mmmmmrgmm I’m gon’a go to town on dis,” to a Reese’s peanut butter cup.
Emily also once dressed up as a wolfman, and then proceeded to a Krispy Kreme for hot donuts, as seen here:
It just goes to show, the faces behind the articles we read are too often enough pushed under the carpet. No, seriously, sometimes I hide under the carpet to write my articles. I work best when pretending to be a Roomba; sometimes you even find snacks under there!
I hope you learned a lot about me today, and when you see me on campus, you’ll stop fleeing to escape my wrath and possibly instead maybe bring me an entire ice-cream cake.