Bob twisted my arm to get me to write a review on a Film Club and Drama Club joint showing this weekend. “Just 500 words,” he said. When have I ever obeyed a word count without cramping my message? That damned thing came out to be nearly 800 words when I finished. And so I present, completely unedited by third parties for grammar and content (which is unbalanced between the clubs’ events), a review of “An Evening of One Acts”. Because what’s a blog if not an archive for mindless ramblings? This is the second time one of my editors has twisted my arm into writing a review due to…

So I aided in giving an interview to our school’s president this afternoon on behalf of the Thorn. I’ve been working on this tribute to Dr. H, but had yet to actually meet the man. Bob, Brandon (the Opinions Ed. of the paper), and I went to his house with film equipment and taped about an hour and a half of interview on everything from his fight to bring coeducation to Rose (articles that me and another writer are working on) to things students indicated they wanted to know in a survey we sent around. Such as whether he wears boxers or briefs. Ugh. At any rate, Dr. H is…

I’m not a big fan of quizzes and the like, but I thought this one was cute, particularly the “we are vicicously beating those responsible for your insecurity” bit. (Quiz found via Hannah.) Take the What High SchoolStereotype Are You? quiz.

See the end for added question sets. From Luke: 1.) What would it take to get you to hop on one foot and pat your head and rub your tummy? It would probably take more alcohol than I would be willing to consume. Since I don’t drink at all, I can’t give you a more exact figure than that. Maybe a few whiffs of that permanent marker could do it, though. 2.) So, where would you (and I want the truth) like to have the Thorn banquet? I can honestly find something most places. Seriously. If we go to the damn Japanese steakhouse, I’ll just cool out and enjoy the…

It’s been another long week, but it’s over, and the less said on it, the better. Except for the fact that Mae is sick and didn’t get the Sophomore Advisor spot, which means she’s feeling miserable and second-guessing herself left and right. She’s also avoiding me, because I threatened to straight-jacket her ass into a hospital if she’s still sick today. Or to call her mother. I’m just trying to pass chemistry, understand Calculus, run my three pages of the newspaper, and get a little sleep–and in that order, it seems. Mae and I didn’t go to the formal last night. Her stomach virus was still hitting her full force,…