I've been actively giving myself nose and eye cancer in the anatomy lab two to three times a week for the past month, so please excuse my lack of regularly-scheduled writing. (Bromaha will get ya like that, don'tcha know.) But as promised, let's take a few minutes on this gorgeous Labor Day weekend to hop in the Wayback Machine and revisit the night of my second time interviewing at Creighton.
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"A WHAT?"
"A fish fry."
"Again. What?"
"You're going to love it. I promise. You'll see."
Monday, September 3, 2012
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Would You Just Man Up Already?
PROTIP: Tuna straight out of the can satisfies your hunger AND gets your roommate to call you a cat for two years. |
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Re-invading Normandy, Part I: What Do You Mean We're Not Near an Ocean?
I came home on that Friday at around midnight, exhausted after taking my weekend guest on Gordo's The District Walking and Face-Stuffing Tour Experience: The Ride, Now in 4-D. My mail slot was still crammed with junk because neither of my roommates had been at home that day, presumably off doing actual adult things that required responsibility and pants-wearing.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Dreams from MY Father, or, WHY YOU NO DOCTOR YET?
…and we're back.
Sorry for the absence, but I've been traveling all over the U.S. and A. basically every single weekend for the past three weeks in my seemingly endless quest to become a depressed gunner and eventual doctor.
Sorry for the absence, but I've been traveling all over the U.S. and A. basically every single weekend for the past three weeks in my seemingly endless quest to become a depressed gunner and eventual doctor.
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