As the spring rains wash away the last of the gritty city snowpack, signs of life that remind us of good weather but have been forgotten for months stick their way out from underneath winter’s white blanket. I’m talking, of course, about abandoned bicycles.
I get a lot of my ideas for articles while I’m sitting on toilets. This probably comes as no surprise to anyone who reads them – my column’s topics are normally not much more valuable than the waste meant for toilet bowls.
It’s a slow news day. For me, that means that I haven’t gotten any fatter in the last week. Women still refuse to touch me. I still thwart their plans by getting on the Red Line in rush hour. Business as usual.
We all love a good cover song. You know, when your favorite band/artist plays a song originally by another one of your favorite bands/artists.
If at some point in elementary school you debated who could push the tire swing the coolest, which name will make the class’s gerbil most peer-friendly or why your Meowth totally deserves to be traded for that other guy’s holographic Charizard, you have inadvertently been a part of this week’s ThingFight.
In a few short weeks, I’ll be printing off my last papers, scribbling on my final Scantron sheets and turning in my remaining projects. That’s right, dear readers, my illustrious career here at Boston University is ‘- sadly ‘- coming to a close this May.
Did you know that the first American bicycle race was held in Allston on May 24, 1878, at what was then Beacon Park? Allston also used to be home to the Charles River Speedway, where such studs as A.J. Furbushat and H.B. Ralston furiously raced their horse-drawn carts at the turn of the century.
I love mixtapes. More than likely, you do, too (I hope). They are perfect little reminders to the ones we have feelings for of exactly what those feelings are. But, in college, we often find ourselves in relationships that last less than 24 hours (specifically, the part of 24 hours called night).