Ryan thinks about you while showering
Lately I've been taking longer, hotter showers. These are the type of showers that turn your skin a Bob Barker-esque shade of burnt sienna, and I love every second of it.
Use the fields below to perform an advanced search of The Daily Cardinal's archives. This will return articles, images, and multimedia relevant to your query. You can also try a Basic search
40 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
Lately I've been taking longer, hotter showers. These are the type of showers that turn your skin a Bob Barker-esque shade of burnt sienna, and I love every second of it.
I know I'm getting older because my wallet is getting bigger. With each passing year it grows more bulky and more unwieldy a thing to sit on. There is a noticeably increasing angle when I sit down. The people behind me in class are placing bets on when I'll finally topple.
So much of life is about the state of mind in which you approach each day. If my 21 years have taught me anything, it's that some people spend those precious waning minutes before sleep recounting all the outstanding and memorable things about the day. Unfortunately, there are also some people in the world who instead spend that time recounting what was terrible about their day. They dwell on annoyances and lament the injustices of life's obstacles. Every night, people go to sleep with these mindsets and carry them into their next day.
Family dinner is one of those things you don't miss until you're at college. Sure you don't have to actually make dorm food, and frozen pizzas are cheap and easy, but nothing quite compares to Mom's home cooking after a long day of sleeping through class.
By the time you read this, I'll be drinking a beer out of a stein in Munich. I'm not trying to brag, because I've come a long way (figuratively and literally) since the beginning of the semester.
Today is officially the first day of spring, which in Madison is synonymous with the beginning of demonstration season. Here, perhaps more than any other city, everyday life involves hearing the phrase ""let's get high and go to the rally."" Whether it's war in Iraq, questionable working conditions in third-world countries or unethical treatment of earthworms, if it's an issue, Madisonians will march on it.
Like most people, I've certainly got my favorite holidays throughout the year. There are the classic Christmas and Halloween standards that probably appear on everyone's list.
I'm no lightweight, but when I drink, I black out like Paris Hilton after pressing the record button. It's just how I react to alcohol, regardless of how much I have.
As a person who invests a disturbing amount of emotional energy into his favorite sports teams, this week was a downer for me. There were tough losses in both basketball and hockey, and I even lost by slaughter rule in intramural basketball. Only two things lifted my spirits on this most bleak week of Badger blunders.
It was supposed to be a quick, easy road trip—back in no time at all. At least that's what I was told.
Valentine's Day holds a special place in my heart. Not because of the sentimental attachment to the day, but because everyone since grade school has used the opportunity to make an awful pun on my last name.
This semester has brought my life to a crossroads. The prospect of graduating from college is daunting, and it appears I have some serious choices to make in the coming months. Everybody seems to start asking you things like: ""What are you going to do with that major?"" and, ""How are you going to pay the bills?"" and ""Can I get fries with that?"" These are all legitimate questions, each I've spent a lot of time thinking over.
Last Thursday one of my biggest fears was confirmed. I had suspected this moment would come eventually, but the fact that it happened so soon caught me slightly off guard. I am sad to report that Internet lingo is becoming the official language of our generation.
Over Thanksgiving break, my mom gave me a miniature plastic Christmas tree, insisting that I take it with me to ""decorate"" my apartment. When I got back and placed it on the kitchen table, it didn't particularly bring me any cheer because I don't have any ornaments besides the accompanying miniature gold bulbs she kindly took the time to include. My prosthetic pine didn't smell a bit like a real tree, so I bought one of those car fresheners and adorned my ode to forced holiday cheer without the slightest hint of irony.
One thing that's important to know about me is that I'm a semi-professional procrastinator. I've made an art form out of it. Why write a paper when there's a football game on? There will be plenty of time afterward. Sure, I suppose one beer won't hurt. Fine, six. Looks like I passed out on the couch and now it's 1 a.m. Shucks. Guess it'll have to get done tomorrow! Rinse, repeat.
My fellow students: We are plagued by those in our midst who refuse to adhere to the rules. Their actions are in direct violation of the common good, though sadly they can not be arrested. I speak of the specific set of rules that can and should be applied to sitting in the cramped quarters of lecture halls.
I'm never quite sure what to do with the pins, bumper stickers and other political paraphernalia I accumulate after an election season. Keeping them on makes me feel annoying. Taking them down right away makes me feel disingenuous, like I was a fair-weather fan all along. And so I keep them around, taking up space and collecting dust in various places in my apartment.
Nearly three years ago I made a pact with some friends from my hometown that we would oust our U.S. representative, Dennis Hastert. Since the prospects of an 18-year- old upsetting a senior, 10-term Congressman (who also happens to be two heartbeats from the presidency) in a district so conservative it makes Rush Limbaugh look like Karl Marx, it seemed rather unlikely. I tabled the idea until further notice.
In recent years, it has become a bedrock of American politics for government officials to shoot themselves in the metaphorical foot. Embezzle a little money here, make a racist or sexist comment there—standard operating procedure for today's busy politicians. In fact, it has become such a constant that I grow suspicious when a week passes without the rancid stench of scandal wafting from Washington. The question is: Will our generation live up to this sterling record of continuity?
There are only a precious few times in life when you can go from eating a brat at a football game to donning a suit and attending a wedding in a single day. I was fortunate, nay blessed, enough to experience one such day last weekend. But while those crowds don't tend to mingle, I couldn't help but notice that we all end up dancing around like drunken lunatics.