And it’s fine to be sad on Valentine’s Day. If you joke that you’re just gonna eat pizza and chocolate and watch Netflix, then absolutely do those things. That sounds awesome. Who wants some dude poking you with his boner halfway through “The Pelican Brief?” Not me. Take a night off.
The text, which came from a friend who wishes to remain anonymous, left me with two questions. Number one: why the hell would anyone care enough about what I had to say to write another article about it on this gay news website?
I’ll be spending the day as I always do — hiding in the corner of an upscale French restaurant and slipping engagement rings into champagne glasses for my research project.
The number of unread emails was embarrassing. But at that point it was beyond my control. They just kept coming. There was no way out.
Walking into the AT&T store felt like every time I’ve ever drank beer: everyone else is doing it, and even though it tastes bitter, at least people will stop trying to chide you into accepting their well-meaning but hopelessly misplaced offers.
Being in a gift shop called “REALLY SCOTTISH!” is slightly more embarrassing than being in the giftshop for The Museum of Sex.
That’s right kids, I am clean and sober, on the wagon, and going to AA. No more stumbling outside of parties, throwing up and returning with the excuse that I was “praying.”
It’s 4 a.m. and your eyes hurt. Your hands look like fleshy spiders full of tiny bones. Hands are so weird.
Shout out to geodes. If someone were carrying rock and were okay with the rock but then they dropped the rock and it turned out to be a geode on the inside, there is no way that they would not be pumped about that turn of events.
So, finals. I won’t get into stress management because I’ve already written a column about that, and as anyone who has seen my famous eye twitch can assure you, my tips were all incredibly effective. Instead, I thought you could all use a little more specific advice on what you may expect in your final exams, by subject.
Apart her proclivity to have friends over when I want to make ugly sob noises, my roommate is pretty ideal.
“My Wednesdays are basically a wash ‘cause I have to go out Tuesdays in order to handle all this stress,” fourth-year psychology major Ryan Molhauen pointed out. “And don’t even get me started on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays,” he added. “ I can’t get anything done four out of the seven days of the week because I have so much stress. Something is wrong here.”
19 things only true 90s kids will understand…
As usual, I’m getting away from my original point, which is that we’re all under a lot of stress all the time at this school. Something is always causing us worry, be it classes, extracurricular activities or disturbingly sexual dreams about your roommate (Philippe, call me). So how do we handle this stress? With alcohol. See you all next time.
For Peanut, death was probably a sweet relief, a final liberation from her glass prison.
TEACHER: Is Denise an only child? DAD: No. MOM: But she’s a lonely child.
When the object of your affection responds less and less over the semester, this is a challenge to up the ante. Sign off with quotes from movies where a white boy’s life is changed by a free-spirited girl. You are the free spirit.
For me the realization that I was never going to gain the love of another human person came as I was standing brushing my teeth with a beer in my hand while wearing a pink cotton nightgown with flowers on it.
