I recently stole over 200 hundred donuts from a shop near my home, and, like any criminal looking to exploit their crime story, I am going to share the experience with you.
I had a surge of exercise-related ambition during my junior year of college, and it was during this phase that I made it a personal goal to develop a workout routine that I could complete without leaving my dorm. And my first foray into in-dorm exercise was with the popular activity of yoga.
Disclaimer: this post is not a PSA about the necessity of getting yourself stabbed with a flu shot. Instead, it’s a story of how I was somehow able to take something as simple as getting a shot and turn it into an uncomfortably awkward situation for every person involved.
I want to tell you a little story about the time when I attended a military ball with my friend Shannah. Full disclosure: I am writing this as if it occurred years ago. It did not. I got back from the ball yesterday. Anyway, let’s begin.
One of the darkest days of my life was when I found out that all of the college students taking the general education gym class were required to be a part of an intramural sports team. I was stunned when I heard the news. I felt like Rocky Balboa in one of those boxing movies that I never finished watching where he gets punched in the face over and over again. I had already nearly killed myself trying to run a mile and a half earlier in the semester, and now the teacher wanted me to play a sport with other students?
I recently made the drive from my home in Ohio to Virginia to attend an event planning conference that was being held in Washington D.C. Since I am relatively new to the world of event planning, I figured that it would be a golden opportunity to learn more about the career field that I have grown increasingly more passionate about.
I did something unforgettable in the spring of 2013. No, I didn’t write an earth-shattering exposé about the plight of refugees in the Middle East. I wish that I had done something that was memorable in such a positive way, but this was unforgettable in the worst way.
Visiting family for the holidays in snowy, Western New York recently brought back a memory from quite awhile ago: the time I drove the family car down a thirty-foot incline.
Most people who have gotten to know me over the past few years find it impossible to believe that I worked on a farm as a teenager. I don’t know if it’s because of my love of Starbucks or my penchant for using mildly intellectual words like “penchant,” but people rarely accept it when I say that I am well versed in farm culture. Since this will probably continue happening, I figured that the best way to explain this era of my life would be through a blog post.
When I graduated from high school, I thought that there was one activity that I would never have to participate in again: gym class. I figured that it was a battle that I would have to fight in middle school alone, and I was convinced that I had left the sweaty, always-picked-last activities were behind me. I realized that this was not the case as I discovered that I would have to take my school’s form of a gym class during my second semester of college.