Ever walked by the Tin Foily People Circle (is that the actual name? probably not….*) and wondered which one was most like you? Take this quick quiz to find out!
Lately, I’ve been watching the same episode of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia over and over simply because it brings me joy. Although I have viewed it over ten times since the semester began, rewatching the episode does not get old. This is a phenomenon that I do not understand; never before have I watched a single episode that many times. Therefore, I am embarking on a quest to analyze this episode in-depth by utilizing my MCM brain. Prior knowledge of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia is highly recommended before reading this fine literature. If you don’t have prior knowledge of the show or the episode, scroll all the way to the bottom of the article so I get a lot of views. Thank you.
I thought it would never happen to me. I’ve always been so careful, tirelessly testing my depth perception, begging friends to play catch to enhance my spatial awareness. Everybody would tell me I was being paranoid, and that I should learn to let go a little. I tried to relax. Butt–uh, excuse me. But then, it finally happened. My butt touched the shower wall. The greasy and grimy wall covered in hair and unknown substances. Now, my life is in shambles, and I’m in the market for a new butt.
Not long ago, in a land not far from here, I held a waitressing position at an outdoor establishment. I worked long and hard through the summer months—tripping on uneven pavement, dropping a martini glass (ONCE), sweating through my khaki shorts, and struggling to cover up the sweat stains with my server apron—all in the name of earning some billz. After working hard for so long, you’d think I’d wisely save my money, instead of spending it on something silly. You’d be wrong. The best $200 I ever spent was on a Brown Cheeky Dog Webkinz from a smoke-free home on eBay.
And so, with the passage of time, I have officially embarked on my junior year, a collegiate upperclasswoman, the equivalent of someone who just had their mid-life crisis and is now pretending to move on as if everything is fine. Ah, yes. Everything’s fine. As I sit thinking about how everything is fine and I’m not stressed at all, I contemplate what I’ve accomplished in my first two years at Brown.
I’ve been rocking some pretty sweet looks around campus lately. So sweet, in fact, a number of strangers have come up to me asking for my autograph. “Oh my goodness, you must be that celebrity everyone is talking about! You look so famous!” they yell, pushing autograph books in my face and taking pictures with me. Much to my own dismay, I am not a celebrity. But, I can share these quick fashion tips that will help you look famous and get noticed around campus.
I recently came across my bucket list that I wrote at age 10. And by “recently came across,” I mean that I intently searched for it after panicking about being months away from turning 20. Reading it over, I realized I haven’t done a lot of the things on this list. But, I’m completely okay with that, because most of the things I set out to do at age 10 are pretty annoying and cringe-worthy.
I understand the power of a motivating phrase or quote as much as the next person. They can be incredibly helpful for getting through tough times or pushing oneself to action. But some often-used motivational phrases are incredibly cliché, and others don’t even make sense. Please, allow me to open your eyes to some of the misleading motivational phrases out there, and expose them for the frauds they truly are. Continue Reading…
I’ve been looking at myself in the mirror a lot recently. Well, not like a lot. Just more than usual. I’ll be getting ready for my day, fixing with my hair, when I notice two things. One, wow my widow’s peak is prominent today. And two, what are those shiny silvery things mixed in with my brunette hair? Upon closer inspection, I find that I have two gray hairs, right on the top of my head.
I’m bold enough to admit when I have a problem. Something about dorm living makes me feel insecure. Maybe it’s that so many people are living in one place and I only know a small fraction of them; maybe I’m just paranoid. In any case, I’m incredibly irrational about locking my door.