It’s been five weeks and cooking has lost its excitement. It has become something I just have to do in order to survive. I decided to bring back the excitement in the kitchen and create my own cooking game show.
Most of us are familiar with our bagels: blueberry bagels, chocolate bagels … but saline bagels? If you’ve already been visually scarred by the photos running rampant on Facebook, then you’re familiar with the Asian trend that has people around the Western Hemisphere cringing in horror.
Invest in dead bodies, people. They’re as good a piece of real estate as anything else.
Zumba was one of the worst experiences of my life. I know, the abrupt start seems unprofessional, but it was better than my original column idea of just repeating “Zumba sucks” for 500 words like an even more deranged Jack Nicholson from The Shining.
Wow, there are a lot of people in this gym. I was seriously hoping this place would be empty. Is there like, maybe, a private workout stall I can use? Is that a thing? I don’t think that’s a thing.
As I was walking from my dorm room to the Athens Police station, I began wondering what my ride-along would be like. Would it be like the movie Training Day, or more along the lines of the TV show Reno 911?
It was Sunday afternoon and I was hungry. I was sick of eating ravioli and baked potatoes. I no longer was craving pancakes and other quick meals. I couldn’t take it anymore — I needed real food, but I didn’t know what to make.
When I asked Amy Goodman, the executive producer and host of the news program Democracy Now!, about persistence in a social movement, the answer was surprisingly yet reasonably simple: “Just stick to it.”
Now that I have a TV in my dorm room and all I do in my leisure time is take advantage of the free HBO, I’ve been seeing a ton of commercials for boxing.
Humans are naturally and perversely competitive.
Woah there, slugger! You’re not thinking of going to class, are you?
Civilization is relative, and often brushed aside, when you’re a college student.
I might not be culturally refined, but ever since I started this column, I had an idea of what I would be getting into when I got involved in a cultural experience. When I did yoga, I knew what yoga was. When I attended a bluegrass concert, I was aware of the concept of music. When I ate at the Mediterranean restaurant Salaam, I knew about the country of Mediterria. I am uncultured, not stupid.
Meeting comedian and activist Lee Camp in New York City last Wednesday was magical, especially with the anniversary of the Occupy Wall Street movement this month.
This summer I took a friend of mine to one of her first concerts, and while I was having a perfectly wonderful time enjoying one of my favorite pastimes, she was having a bit of trouble.
A potluck is perhaps the greatest thing ever invented for a broke college kid. The concept is simple: In exchange for bringing one food item to feed a group, you get to eat a variety of foods from everyone else.
Let us talk about how wonderful being drunk is.
Let me just start by saying, if you ever feel like your life is a culmination of awkward, bizarre events you can’t escape: You’re not alone. Whenever I’m having a bad day or I feel as though my life is a living rendition of Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic,” I find myself stumbling through the only news that makes me feel better: The Huffington Post’s “Weird News.”
[Columnist’s note: Sorry guys, no material from me this week. Apparently someone forwarded last week’s column to Shatner and Nimoy and I guess they weren’t happy about it, because they came to my apartment last night and broke my kneecaps. I am in a substantial amount of pain!
Solutions by The State News