You dash out of the room, dreams of pumpkin muffins and apple crumble supplanting your previous concern that your professor’s body has been replaced by food.
My great-grandmother (“Mom Dondero,” as we referred to her as) was a shrewd woman.
Like most people, I google “Dolly Parton” about three times a week just to check up on my favorite country musician.
All of us know what it’s like to have neighbors. They always seem to want something from you — and nine times out of 10, what they want is for you to feed their pesky felines when they’re out of town.
Hey there, pal. I heard you got dumped. I’m really sorry about that.
With a wave of students thrown into disarray and confusion from these findings, teachers, doctors and educational experts are working to offer alternative locations for studying.
Faced with the threat of unemployment, I developed a plan.
A young boy watched as the last crop withered in his hands. “How did this happen?” he asked. “How did nobody notice this coming?”
If you or anyone you know would like to help me acquire one of these or literally any career, feel free to contact me.
Screw it, that’s not even far enough, lets just start rioting.
Ruffle my hair? Ah, hell, why not. For old time’s sake. Go right ahea — ouch! Damn it, Dad T-shirt.
I don’t even know when we got to this point. What’s society’s big deal with following all these prescribed rules?
It was not too long ago that most of humanity rushed to toy shops, grocery stores,and knock-off Hallmark cards locations in search of one item.
I don’t think it’s possible for us to expect less of our school. This is a “u up?” text message at 3:00 am. This is the bare minimum.
Below is a retelling of actual events within the private residence of The White House at 6:15 a.m.
To all five of the people who regularly read this page: hello. My name is Brennan Lee, and I am the new editor for the Humor section here at The Cavalier Daily.
You know who’s nominated. You know who’s hosting. You think you know who the winners will be.
His tiny sleeves tore from the force within: the force of the toddlers’ rippling muscles, the bodybuilder of a baby they created.
I would say sorry, but I’m sure you understand. It’s finals.
Okay, it’s been a few weeks. We can talk about it now, right? We’ve taken time to mourn, and now we all walk into the nearest bookstore and pick up our copies of, “So, Your Next President Is A Total Bigot.” In your post-election turmoil, you might be wondering: What do we do now?
