After weeks of dining hall food, the prospect of a formally prepared meal was too tempting to pass up.
Whether in the ‘60s or in 2017, some things never change among University students — we all like to end our late nights with a sweet fix of doughnuts and ice cream or a delicious burger.
The apartment smelled different than I expected. Not bad, per se, but the odor of a foreign spice I had never experienced.
At worst, one’s mistakes are steps that take them closer to where they want to be.
"Apparently we decided it was a good idea that I buy a rent-a-car after we talked about the South Dakota thing."
Way worse than how anyone else perceived my background was how I perceived myself.
Turns out there are lots of settings on a toaster and for some reason one of them is “completely and totally charred.”
Let me tell you, Taylor, I did not march around middle school with your face on my pencil case for this to happen.
“Litterers are quitterers.” Those are the words of my third grade crush and he was right.
Use your newfound free time to conquer the food pyramid!
In addition to finding a physical house, much effort went into funding the buying of the house as well.
MeeteR combines information about all activities going on at a university into one location.
Because I believed it to be true, I subconsciously looked for it to be true, and I unknowingly interpreted encounters to fit that mold.
There is something paradoxically peculiar about the language we use in various groups.
I guarantee the following tips will help you save money, impress your friends, and revitalize your appreciation for food.
There was something strangely cathartic about leaving work at the library and coming back to a work-free home.
I realized that “southern hospitality” is a thing, or maybe it should simply be called “human decency.”
Homesickness is a normal part of adjusting, and often we feel pressure to act like everything is fine because university is supposed to be ‘the best time of your life.’
In a haze of fear — I grabbed everything I could and ran back upstairs, leaving a trail of detergent in my wake.
Eternally bored by the salad bar? Don’t worry, we all are.
