As graduation nears, it is time I came clean.Out of the dark and into the light. I’m referring to blues, of course. Yep, I went to Duke.Just so we’re clear, I won’t be using this column to declare any loyalties to one or the other. I defer to the words of the great Mark Twain: “I don’t like to commit myself about heaven and hell — you see, I have friends in both places.”
My senior year of college, the student newspaper announced that a new Web site called “thefacebook.com” was open to our campus community.With a few clicks of a mouse, I became part of the first 50,000 users — now only a small drop in the 400 million-person networking tsunami that exists today.
It is the magical time of the decade when Olympic programming intersects with movie award show season.
Like many of you all, I read The New York Times last week.Of course I read “The New Math on Campus.” But further down the front page of the Sunday Styles section, there was another article that caught my eye.
In 1982, Scott Brown, a 22-year-old law student from Boston College, posed nude in a Cosmopolitan Magazine centerfold. He described himself as “a bit of a patriot,” but with a well-placed arm, he kept any bits of his patriot shielded from the camera.
When asked to return for a second semester of column writing for The Daily Tar Heel, I considered whether the campus still needed a voice on women and gender issues. Had everything already been said? Was it time for different voices and different issues?
Everything I know about diet and exercise I learned from magazines.From years of casual research and exposure, I can tell you with little pause how many calories are in certain foods and what activities will burn them off.
Saturday, the House passed a health care reform bill with a stipulation that no federal money can be used to pay for abortions.
I recently went out on Franklin Street celebrating a Marine’s safe return home from Iraq. I did not know him well, but as I saw him greet old friends in the parking lot on Rosemary Street, my heart ached with how momentous this day was for him.But this conclusive victory had not brought everyone out into the streets.
Ah, Halloween. Less than half a month away. The time of year when a girl’s inner kitty-cat prostitute can run free.It isn’t so much that I’m against sexy bees/nurses/Eskimos/fire hydrants/whatever, it’s more that they’re so uninspired. A shortened hem and a pair of fishnets does not a costume make.A woman who follows the list below may not get the catcalls, but she’s guaranteed to have a blast all her own.
