Will Ellis took to the stage of Pearson 128 in a striking pair of black high heels. In his unusual apparel, Ellis proceeded to delight his audience with a hilarious rendition of "Ladies Who Lunch" from Stephen Sondheim's "Company," a song originally written for a woman. This was just the beginning of a night of gender bending musical performances.
Michael Archiable marched up to two guys he didn't know at the beach on the first day of spring break. He squirted a big blob of sunblock in his hand and casually asked them to lather up his back for him.
Learning is the continual/Change in which one/becomes an alloy/of the Entirety of the world/Beautiful university, where?
An Israeli tradition honoring Holocaust survivors has come to Miami University. First, second and third generation Holocaust survivors will be speaking across Miami's campus in commemoration of Holocaust Memorial Day on April 12, 2018.
Photo via Pixababy.
"Love's" third and final season was dynamic, surprising and generally optimistic, but the best part was the Bertie bottle episode. I, personally, like to think executive producer Judd Apatow and series co-creators Paul Rust and Lesley Arfin read my tweets and responded accordingly.
Song of the Week
If you look up Good Old Books online, you'll find that the Leland, Michigan, used and rare bookstore is only open from mid-May to mid-October. But if, on a cold winter afternoon, you walk up to a gray-blue, bi-level home with an "OLD, RARE BOOKS" sign posted in the yard, you'll find a note signed by George and Mary Ball.
I walk up the escalator into the center of the National Mall and sigh.
The most disappointing aspect of my spring break backpacking trip was not that it got cut short.
A mom, dad and daughter slide into the backseat of Jake Davis's silver Infiniti, parked in the small circular drive in front of MIA Uptown. Their bag of leftovers fills the sedan with the smell of Italian food.
The first time I visited Boston, I was dead-set on attending Northeastern University, and the universe seemed to be telling me this was a good idea. It was August, a balmy 80 degrees, and my assigned tour guide was, objectively, the hottest one (I say "objectively" because our group somehow ended up three times as big as everyone else's, and entirely female).
They both stand in front of an amassed congregation, trying their best to impart what they believe to be vital information into the minds of people whose levels of interest in what they're saying vary greatly. There seems to be more than a few similarities between preachers and professors.
I debated back and forth for a couple of weeks about my spring break plans, but I eventually decided that being beachside was more favorable than snowed in. So, I traveled to Panama City Beach for a week of sunshine.
Even at the height of the #MeToo movement this past winter, it was difficult to talk about ambiguously consensual sex -- the kind that's technically consensual, but doesn't totally feel that way.
