Over fall break, I, like many of my classmates, took to my favorite relaxing activities in the comfort of my own home.
Sometimes a deep anthropological idea will hit me in the most unlikely places. Is “deep anthropological idea” a huge exaggeration?
Few people acknowledge the lethal potential of ice cubes.
I was walking past the dumpling cart, freaking out about housing next year and how people sign leases fresh out of the womb, when I overheard a genius man ask a genius question: why isn’t there a burrito cart?Imagine, the joy of lining up in front of the almighty burrito truck, reveling in the glory that is a shiny, metal box.
“Oh, my gosh! We need to have a sleepover!”The dreaded suggestion elicited an inward cry of despair as everyone nodded in agreement.
I woke up on a beach in Haifa, Israel to the mildest lifeguard rebuke I’d ever heard.
A few weeks ago, I was once more meandering through the depths of Buzzfeed when I happened upon a quiz entitled “What’s the Sexiest Thing About You?” Given that Victoria’s Secret sponsored this quiz, I had my hesitations about clicking the thumbnail link.I am nowhere remotely close to a Victoria’s Secret model.
From infancy, I was raised as a Cardinals fan. The early days of baseball were uncomplicated. The Baltimore Orioles were the closest team in proximity ? the only team for which it was actually possible to attend games ? but I was an exclusive Cardinals devotee, as St.
Earlier today, I was listening to my 90’s playlist on Spotify – no shame.
It’s 5 a.m. and a man as wide as he is tall is yelling Spanish curses in my ear. I’m tired, sore, soaked to the bone and more than anything else humiliated by the fact that I apparently have no idea how to use a lawn mower.
What I wouldn’t do for a good Danish ? an incredible marriage of butter, sugar, yeast, eggs and cheese.
Freed from the confines of dorms into the world of air-conditioned bedrooms, I am fortunate enough to spend my second year of college with an apartment as home.
The other night while playing frisbee in the dark ? in retrospect a poor idea ? I had a revelation.
My father’s good friend always says, “Nothing good ever happens past midnight.” I beg to differ.
My dad is the epitome of going with the flow.
“I love this song!” I shout over the howl of the wind as my best friend and I cruise down 14th Street.
Near the beginning of Vampire Weekend’s self-titled debut album, the singer asks a question that will no doubt echo through history, “Who gives a [crap] about the oxford comma?” I like this album, but the question has always felt like a personal assault since I am an English major.
When darkness creeps into our lives, it’s hard to have faith.
I was going to submit an article about something lighthearted this week.
We walk quietly together, the lights and warmth of the Lawn behind us, through the construction and past the deepened slopes of Mad Bowl to our homes.
