I like to think I am a pretty funny guy. When people laugh at me, I assume it was because I said something funny and not because I am dressed like a hobo who is wearing clothes that look like they got ran over by a lawn mower (my washing machine is a jerk).
The sound of gunfire still echoed in my ears as our group crept through the woods, leaving the chaos of Woodbury behind us. When the dead had begun to rise and our world crumbled around us, we had thought zombies Walkers™ would be our biggest concern. But it turns out we had much more to fear from the living — for in the end, we’ve realized Man is the real monster (the undead cannibals are still kind of a problem, though).
The catchy carols, the breathtaking decorations and the cheerful spirit — how could anyone not love the Christmas season?
I had quite a struggle last week — again, with my visa.
When I came to Ohio University, I wasn’t really thinking about demographics or race. In fact, it was probably the last thing on the list of things I looked for in an environmental setting.
Sometimes it’s not fun to report the news.
As the longest semester that ever was nears its close, I also near the end of my adventure as an outside observer of the sports world. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my journey, it’s the importance of context.
At first, there were normal auctions, which involved a lot of yelling.
Highlights of Post writer’s trip include plenty of gore, no venison
As we wrap up the semester, there’s only one thing in mind: “I would give anything to go back to quarters.” You probably thought I was going to say winter break, but I’m too busy studying 15 weeks of material to even think about the comforts of Cleveland.
I generally don’t make a habit out of habitually checking the ol’ Facebook. If I wanted near-constant updates about what my friends were up to at any given moment, I would get myself some friends, am I right? Ha! Ha! Related question: Does anyone want to hang out on Friday? Or Saturday. I’m flexible. (Ladies.)
Not to bore you with the understatement of the century (literally), but it’s a privilege to be a Postie.
When logging into Facebook these days, it has become a ritual that I have popcorn in one hand and a drink in the other, ready for action.
To get all obligatory greetings out of the way, I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving where they spent their break enjoying good food, the company of their families and not being stuck on a Greyhound bus.
It finally happened. The day we all knew would come. I caught something on fire.
For years, I have waited in anticipation of being able to grow the holy grail of human hair.
I’m standing in front of the East Side Gallery — a remnant of the Berlin Wall — trying to picture the 1989 revolution and verify whether the air in East Berlin was as stinky as what Dragan Wende said.
It’s a strange phenomenon, but when you go away to college, life in your hometown actually does go on.
Editor’s Note: This is the second part in a two-part commentary about “fracking” in Southeast Ohio. Part one appeared in yesterday’s edition.
Solutions by The State News