A question of how far bus chat should go
I sank deep into my bus seat for the ride home. It had been a long day and I wanted nothing more than to drift into the pseudo sleep one can only get in a vehicle.
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I sank deep into my bus seat for the ride home. It had been a long day and I wanted nothing more than to drift into the pseudo sleep one can only get in a vehicle.
The holiday season brings many people joy, fun times with good friends and credit card bills so huge you will
Coworkers can make or break a job. Even if you have an easy job like me, not getting along with your coworkers makes work anything but a pleasurable experience.
It's time for apartment hunting, my dears, and your old friend Megan is here for you. As one experienced with the trials and tribulations of really run-down, piece-of-crap apartment rentals, I feel I can pass on some helpful tips and tricks to my beloved readers.
For some people, having a receptionist scream, Oh my God, do you have rabies?"" would be the low point in their medical history. However, as my existence thrives on awkwardness and uncomfortable situations, I should have known this could never be the case for me.
\We're on a mission from God,"" Missy told the cashier at the gas station. He gave her a confused look and gingerly handed me back my debit card.
The most popular question last week was What are you going to be for Halloween?"" Well, my costume wasn't very exciting, but at least I can say it was original. I was a very pissed off greeter at my cousin's wedding. How did you miss such a great costume, you may ask. You didn't; I was two hours from State Street and, like I said, was not very happy about it.
Now, I'm not complaining, but my newspaper internship is getting old - fast. The hours aren't bad, and the people are great, but when it's a slow news day, it's a slow news day. I go in and write my briefs and then have the next several hours to waste away. As I am sure many of you are reading this at your own boring internships, let me share with you a typical day at the office.
The family curse has struck. I thought it had skipped my generation; my brother and I seem relatively close to normal. But as I lay in bed last night I knew I was to suffer the same fate as my ancestors: I will never sleep again.
Going to the doctor's office is bad for my health. I went to my 8:45 a.m. appointment Wednesday morning, only to find that the office was closed until 9. As I sat on the cold cement waiting for the doors to open, I could feel my cold worsen, my blood pressure rise and a severe case of spontaneous dental hydroplosion develop.
Everyone has that ex. The one who can't let go, the one who moves on a little too quickly or the one who has that creepy voodoo doll made of your used chewing gum and some of your hair. While my ex hasn't reached the dark magic level of creepiness yet, he still manages to rank high on the insanity factor.
Mind going numb... eyelids dropping... saliva collecting at the corner of your mouth about to spill out and form a puddle of drool to the disgust of your neighbors. For the love of Bucky, when will it end?!
I woke up this morning feeling productive. I made a delicious breakfast (Fruit Loops), went for a morning run (made it to the corner today, whoo!) and did several hours of extensive research for future columns - three hours of cartoons and a bowl of ice cream.
I didn't wake up intending to fight. Some warriors say it is in their blood, but none want it in their cup of morning coffee.
Like approximately 9,000 other students at UW-Madison, July 7 was one of the worst days of my college career. With the simple phrase, You did not receive tickets,"" the UW Ticket Office smashed my hopes of another season spent ""Jumping Around"" Camp Randall.
When Maggie Pennington returned to her room Sunday morning, she expected to find her roommate passed out in boxer shorts and a T-shirt that wasn't hers, face first in a box of Ian's pizza, just like any other Sunday. But this particular Sunday, Pennington instead found a note and a half-eaten box of Cracker Jack.
Everyone knows Chris Farley. But there is more to him than Fat Guy in a Little Coat."" ""The Chris Farley Show"" is the intriguing biography written by those who knew him for far more than his ""fatty fall down"" humor.
This morning, as I ate my Fruit Loops, I had an epiphany. What am I doing with my life?"" I thought.
As a cashier, it seems that every single man in line is fooled into thinking he has a shot with you.
I'm not sure about the rest of campus, but around Lakeshore, the kids in Short Course have a wild reputation. For them, college was a 16-week vacation from the farm, and they loved every minute of it.