Presidential candidates came together last night to talk about AMS culture, divestment, reinstating staff access to the food bank and to sound party horns as question responses.
As my friends know very well: I don’t have crushes. I have victims.
You must know, Tuesdays are for ritual coffee breaks with the homies. A few Tuesdays ago, we were settled on a crumby three-seater in front of the greasy Nest Fresh Slice.
As Pea Man once said, “If music be the peas of love, play on.”
On October 22, The Bike Kitchen hosted their “Cycling as Resistance” fundraising event for Palestinian aid at the Red Gate Arts Society.
She knew — nay, she felt it in her soul, her bones, the dust mites in her squeaky Walter Gage mattress — she deserved someone positively, truly exceptional.
I have blister band-aids in my first-aid kit. I actually charge my portable charger. I carry Tums in my purse, babe.
Slick black hair, plaid-clad, anime style glasses — they were exactly my type.
It's not you, it's me.
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