Last week was a bad week. When I had finally uncurled from the fetal position and had stopped sobbing convulsively after hearing the news of Brett Favre's retirement, I trooped off to my philosophy exam.
Of course, I fell on the ice on the way there. Then I didn't answer a single proof on the test, unless you count Because God made it so"" as an acceptable answer. And things were just getting started.
I fell again on the way back, broke off a door handle in the Humanities building, and as I stepped off the bus after a long night at College, I fell yet again and the door closed on my hand. I should have stayed hidden under my bed bowing before the Shrine O' Favre.
As the bus drove away, full of people laughing at my misfortune, I lay in the snow contemplating life. It was then I decided this week was a sign from the powers that be. I had to change my life.
After all, I had fallen in busy streets three times that day, an entire country's object of affection was gone and I had almost been ran over by a bus. This was no coincidence: I had come close to a near-death experience. With a new perspective on life, I decided there were some important things to do.
The first was to make amends for the wrongs in my life. I called my dad and told him I was the one who broke that window when I was 12, not the neighbor kids. He had to call our lawyers to get the restraining order removed, so he couldn't stay and talk. But I felt something special when he yelled, ""You dumbass!"" and hung up. It was the feeling of honesty.
I made a lot of calls and sent a ton of e-mails that night. An apology to my brother for forgetting him at school, an e-mail to my friend Brad for eating his last cheesy bread and blaming it on Jeff, and finally a Facebook message to Kelly; It wasn't nice of me to let you die in Oregon Trail all the time. But how was I supposed to know a grueling pace and meager rations would kill someone with dysentery?
Actually, I take that last one back. Everyone did that, and I still think it's funny.
Now that I had come clean, it was time for the fun part. I had to change my life so a day was never wasted. I began compiling the list of things I have to do in my life.
Of course, there were the boring ones like skydiving and traveling the world, but I threw some really unique stuff on there too.
I want to learn to breathe fire, brew moonshine and play euchre. So euchre isn't that extraordinary, but I think I am the only person in Wisconsin who doesn't know how to play, so it is unique to me.
I want to wrestle in one of those fake sumo suits, find Bigfoot and reunite the members of *Nsync and yell at them for perverting my musical taste for years.
I want to learn to play the glockenspiel, dance on a giant keyboard with Tom Hanks and be an announcer for the World Lawnmower Racing Championships.
But, the ultimate goal, the one at the top of the list with little stars around it, is to meet Chuck Norris.
Many of you probably thought I had worked this obsession out of my system, but alas, I have not. His Huckabee tour bus drove by me one night, and it is still the highlight of my winter break.
Someday, I hope all my columns will be Chuck Norris approved.
So, as I embark on my new and exciting life, I will learn to laugh off little falls, being rejected by Tyra Banks at the Bookstore this weekend and the retirements of legends.
But now it is time for me to play some Oregon Trail. I haven't thought about Kelly in a long time, and I have a feeling she is about to get a wicked case of dysentery.
If you let people you didn't like die in Oregon Trail, e-mail Megan at mcorbett2@wisc.edu.
