A girl on my study abroad program has a long-term boyfriend -- I've been hearing about him since the first day I met her in London. He seems like a pretty good guy.
This Sunday (or by the time this column runs, last Sunday) is Super Bowl Sunday. It is the day for "The Big Game," as it is called by anyone who doesn't want to get sued for encroaching on the NFL's most sacred and treasured trademark.
Nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains only a few miles past the site of the Foxfield Race Track is the Free Union Country School.
In the realm of entertainment, the board game has fallen on some hard times in recent years. Kids today, it seems, would much rather stand in front of a television pretending to dance or play an instrument than push around small pieces of paper and plastic with no certain purpose.
I'm really happy colleges offer psychology courses. Ever since my housemate Mark took Psych 101, I have been lucky to learn day-in and day-out how many afflictions trouble me.
Spring semester has sprung, which means fourth-year students have about 15 weeks left to turn a B.A.
The roasted turkey has been carved and the spiced eggnog poured, yet instead of being filled with the holiday spirit, you are engulfed with dread as you take your seat at the dinner table.
"Life goes by pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." Ferris makes an excellent point.
My original intention was to write an epic poem for my column this week -- or, at least the first 700 words or so.
The start of another new semester means, among other things, a collective moan from University students about the cost of textbooks.
This is a campaign about change. We have a Mormon running, someone who thinks homosexuality is a choice and a biracial candidate who has admitted to using cocaine.
I do hope a geology professor reads this. I've got the most thrilling invocation for her next syllabus: "The dreams about the modes of creation, enquiries whether our globe has been formed by the agency of fire or water, how many millions of years it has cost Vulcan or Neptune to produce what the fiat of the Creator would effect by a single act of will..." (Breathtaking, isn't it?) "...is too idle to be worth a single hour of any man's life." Ouch.
There are many reasons I enjoy going to school in Charlottesville: the sun setting purple over the Blue Ridge Mountains, the sustained rumbling of a train as it chugs past my apartment, bluegrass music, the dogwood trees in spring and, yes, even Mr. Jefferson.
Monte Antico Toscano (IGT) 2004: Price: $9.99 Grade: A- In 1992 Tuscany faced a wine conundrum.
Mexican food is greatly misunderstood in this country. When people in America think of Mexican food, they envision flour tortillas, cheese dip, bland salsa, chimichangas and margaritas that come from a machine.
Have you ever noticed how people judge you by what kind of stuff you own? For example, if you own a car, people automatically assume you know how to drive.
They say the best things in life are free, but even charity has a price: programs must be funded, salaries must be paid.
The question that steadily arises amid Pakistan's tortured political culture is whether the country will manage to retain all five of its provinces.
I am sad to say, readers, that recently I went to rehab. It was basically how I imagined it: Me: My name is Chris Shuptrine, and I am addicted to doodling.
I consider myself a knowledgeable citizen of America. I know how the U.S. government works. I got a five on the AP U.S.
