Kiera ends rocky relationship with AIMbot
KW+SC4eVrR: we need to talk
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KW+SC4eVrR: we need to talk
Breaks during freshman and sophomore years of college are more regressions back to high school selves than visits with old friends.
When you've been in a relationship for over a year, it's difficult to remember that you were once that awkward lump of nerves trying to figure out if that guy like, liked you liked you.
I've taken a lot of different classes at UW with a lot of different professors. I've been taught by everyone from hippie liberals to staunch republicans who swear the Trickle Down Theory is legit.
In the Jewish religion, the days or weeks between the two holiest days of the year, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, serve as time to reflect back on the past year's wrongdoings and ask for God's forgiveness.
As a college senior, I'm beginning to realize that the Terrace, slutty (but clever) Halloween costumes and convincing my boyfriend and his roommates that my hair is different (and hotter) than Sarah Palin's will soon be things of the past. Instead, my thoughts are starting to turn toward my future.
I was about 5 when I decided I wanted to write for a living, but what most people don't know is that writing wasn't my first vocational goal. Before writing was in the picture, I wanted to be a detective.
Many girls my age - OK, probably older - are coming to realize the lengths their maternal instincts will go to achieve their ultimate goal: offspring. Whether it be prostituting themselves for a night of unprotected fun in exchange for child support, or just studying the ins and outs of the security systems at nearby day care centers, women who want babies won't stop until there's a kicking fetus in their tummies or they're on their way to Arizona in a stolen car with 500 bucks in cash and a future milk-carton child.
I had been eating most of my lunches at Subway anyway, given its proximity to my summer job, so there was nothing out of the ordinary that prompted that visit.
It's that time of year again when we pack up a dorm room's worth of our belongings and head back to our roots. Whether it's moving home for the entire summer or just a weekend visit, most of us will return to high school friends, GPA-hungry parents and sheets we've slept in since early grade school that we pray will never come in contact with a black light.
I've always thought guilt was a funny thing. As the daughter of a Jewish mother, feeling guilty is as natural as feeling hungry or tired, as is true of my mom and her mom and so on. It's not really their fault, it's more like a cultural trait we're all obligated to pass on to our children.
When I was in seventh grade, 13-year-old boys were representative of everything wonderful in the world: adrenaline, budding sexuality and really smelly gym clothes. Eight years ago, being trapped in a dark room for a half hour with about 30 of them would be a gift from God. Now, not so much.
The UW-Madison chapter of the National Society of Collegiate Scholars will host a jump-rope-a-thon Friday on Library Mall from 4 to 5 p.m. to benefit children with heart conditions.
Last week was a tough week for Wisconsin students. We lost one of our own. Even those of us who never met her somehow felt a connection to her.
In a few days, my boyfriend Jeff and I will celebrate our one-year anniversary.
Flesh-eating plants induce more images of a cheesy 1980s musical (Little Shop of Horrors"") than those of blood-soaked psychological thrillers.
When you buy tickets to see a Shakespeare play, you have to expect two things: an audience full of people who want you to think they're smart enough to understand it, and a stage full of actors with impossible amounts of uncontrolled bodily fluids.
Being drunk at 4 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon seems defiant and cool on a college campus that measures networking potential with keg stand records and counts down the days until the Mifflin Street Block Party every year.
A few days ago, my 10-year-old sister, Perri, called me with a pressing problem.
It all started because my boyfriend thought I was going deaf. About a month ago, he noticed I had the volume on my TV much louder than before. He also mentioned I shouted into my cell phone - not just when I was talking to my parents - and my roommates were making references to things they weren't supposed to hear.