Tag Archives: Maria Juarez
"I woke up with Sherron Collins‘ hand down my shirt. I was like, ‘Come on now, Sherron. You know I don’t like you like that!’ But it’s cool. I love the basketball team. We’re homies. I mean, I was with Brady Morningstar when he got his DUI!"
A gaggle of Hooters girls latched on to her every word as she ended her story with a sort of proud insouciance.
Meet Sarah – a previous coworker and managerial favorite.
Forgive my tardiness on this entry, for I know that it is past Christmas. Luckily, it will come again in 364 days, which gives you fine people sufficient time to ponder my sentiments regarding the archetypal holiday hero.
Santa Clause, to put it mildly, is a springboard for irrational belief systems and a wolf beneath a beguiling red coat. He’s an unnecessary mind fuck, whose subterfuge has led to several incidences of brain tumors in small children.
Hide your kids! Hide your cookies! Hide your milk!
Now I’m sure countless adults have survived childhood under Santa’s pretense, myself included, but I find it absolutely immoral to consciously perpetuate a lie. Likewise, tradition should be no rival to the illogical perspectives and cancerous growths that may arise in future generations. Essentially, Christmas can be just as jolly without Mr. Claus and his troupe of flying reindeer. The times they are a-changin’, and you old fogies must adapt.
Hear me out.
College students across the nation (except in Kansas) can celebrate the death of Four Loko with the latest and greatest method of booze-assisted suicide: alcohol-infused whipped cream.
I guess you could say that alcohol companies have finally succeeded in creating liquid date rape
I adore Christmas and all that it has to offer, but the Plaza Christmas light experience was an exception to that case.
In truth, it was overwhelmingly underwhelming.
I haven’t seen something this overrated since Terrell Owens last took to the field.
Dear Christmas Nazis, Thanksgiving advocates, and those on holiday power trips:
I have seasonal depression. Come mid-November, my skin pales and my dopamine levels plummet at the speed of light. I lie in bed a lot, cry in my hot cocoa, and lose faith in humanity about five times a week (as opposed to the two during any other season). Basically I’m in a four month coma, connected to my two life support tubes: Christmas and KU basketball.
So when you whiny bastards yank on the Christmas plug before I’m ready to die, I have to lash out.
I recently had the misfortune of working with a KU football player for an English group project.
We presented on Tuesday but my body is still sore from dragging his weight. Likewise, my ears are still bleeding from the inane crap that spewed from his mouth.
Once again, the University Daily Kansan upholds its commitment in its pursuit of mediocrity.
I’m utterly impressed by how unimpressive it is. Yesterday – for what they thought was the first time in my life – I learned about condoms in an article that read like an electric toothbrush manual. And when I thought the UDK could not publish worse, they come out with this gem of a lede:
"Four Loko: legalized cocaine in a can."
Craig Glazer. Flare of my life, intrigue of my loin. My vice, my doubt. Craig. He was Mr. Glazer on Hearne’s couch in the afternoon, donning black Oakleys indoors. He was a hard-ass in public and a gentleman post-rebuke. He was The King of Sting on the dotted line. But in my eyes, he was just Craig.
So I have here another observation regarding my sights on campus. You know, sometimes I witness things on Jayhawk Boulevard that make me wish I would have busted my butt in high school and gone elsewhere. Unfortunately, I must deal with the consequences of my pre-college apathy. Maybe I’ll even learn something along the way. Anyway, the Muslims. They’ve been setting up shop on campus for the past week, giving me the impression that it’s Peaceful Muslim Awareness Month – and I’ve already made clear how I feel about the hidden agenda of awareness months. Stands, tents, tables peppered the main stretch of sidewalk where beautiful, burka-clad women stood and smiled. Most striking, however, were the banners. “Come know the real, peaceful Islam!”
As we all know, October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Continue reading
In my brief 19 years I’ve seen enough inequity to spawn a lifetime’s worth of juicy discussion, but this is just ridiculous. I know I made a crap decision to live in the heart of the underage bar scene, so it’s not your fault that I’m always available to witness the hot messes you are. Though, what absolutely nauseates me is the downright shameful behavior displayed every Wednesday night within the five labyrinthine rooms of the most famous dive bar in Lawrence.
I’m talking about Dollar Night at The Hawk. Continue reading
It’s a pain in my ass that will plague me until one of us dies.
We all have that finicky friend or relative: the mercurial, silent type who can make Christmas morning feel like a game of Russian Roulette. Continue reading
It’s the student chant that just won’t go away. It still can be heard at every KU home football game during kickoffs. And after countless attempts to purge the Continue reading