I have a confession. Not an Usher, cheating-on-my-baby mama type of confession, but worse: I have done the Athens breast cancer community wrong.
Women aren’t funny.
Two weeks ago, I shared a very touching moment with 20,000 people in Leipzig, Germany, at the Light Festival, an annual commemoration of the Peaceful Revolution of 1989.
It’s the beginning of Week 9, that sweet spot in the semester when we start to wish we were still on quarters so we could be prepping for finals right now, instead of finishing up midterms. Because I’m in the studying spirit, I thought I’d conduct a little self-assessment regarding what I’ve learned so far about sports. There are areas in which I think I’m improving, and others that still need some work. Here’s the breakdown of my pass/fail sports-knowledge midterm.
As I watched the presidential debate last week, I found myself mindlessly scrolling through social media during commercials. We’re all used to them by now; they’re almost as inevitable as the “Everybody Rides” commercial past 1 a.m.: political statuses and tweets. Some live to write them, while others can hardly stomach them.
Gov. Mitt Romney needs to kill something on the federal budget for his election.
You know those weekends when you go to two great parties you never intended on going to, and you don’t even care about the party you didn’t go to? For me, that was my weekend in the world of food.
I’ve never understood the allure of theater. Why would someone spend $100 to see a play with a production value of several thousand dollars when they could see a movie for $10 with a production value of millions? Is theater cultured? Broadway ran the Spiderman musical, and that is many things, but it sure isn’t cultured.
Being bullied is not new to me. I have been overweight most of my life and have heard my fair share of chubby and fat remarks. I thought when I went to college that the maturity level would rise, and the amount of bullying would fall. My couple years here have proven me wrong.
Captain’s log, day 21. We have entered the third week of our wait, and the patience of the men grows thin. Around me the line for the Obama rally stretches like some primordial sky-serpent, wrapping around Walter Hall and the streets beyond.
Before I arrived in Germany, I had some preliminary impressions of the Germans — for instance, their pride in their food and culture. But, for two weeks in Leipzig, I’ve been stunned by the number of people lining up to eat American fast food — there are always huge lines at the McDonald’s in Leipzig’s city center.
After watching those green and white inflatable men flail around on top of Baker University Center all week, I got to thinking about school spirit and the nature of fandom.
Elections have really gotten to our heads this year, judging from the fact that the third sentence of every political analysis mentions Big Bird.
It seems as though ghosts aren’t the only things instilling fear in Simi Valley residents this Halloween.
Hello there! Welcome to the world of Pokémon! My name is Oak! People call me the Pokémon Prof! This world is inhabited by creatures called Pokémon! For some people, Pokémon are pets. Others use them for fights. Myself, I study Pokémon as a profession.
Editor’s note: This column was originally published in The Post on Oct. 13, 2003.
Before living in an apartment, there were obviously some things I had never cooked before.
My original plan for this week’s new activity was to attend a jiu-jitsu class. However, the class I ended up going to was for kids.
A short documentary made by Chen Huang and Joey Li from the University of Southern California asks a question perhaps every college student would be curious about: “Why can a Chinese guy not get an American girl?
As much as I enjoy expressing my uninformed opinions about sports, I would like to take a moment to address a topic that I’m actually somewhat qualified to discuss: pop music.