Talloweekend – a quirky and unique combination of Tallahassee, Halloween and weekend – has reared its nasty little head around once again and you’ve managed to black out at the seven parties you hit "maybe" to on Facebook.
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Monotony is one of the most challenging forces with which college students must combat during their first steps into the excruciating experience that is adulthood. No one knows this better than the elusive meal-planless freshman, whose diet subsists entirely on the cheapest, unhealthiest, sodium-est staple food that every American loves: instant ramen.
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While students come back from their days under the Tuscan sun delightfully freckle-faced and blessed with a rich, golden tan, most will realize they have fallen victim to at least one of these common assaults. To those who are currently coming to this realization, it’s vital to remember you might be able to say “who needs that bitch?” in two languages now.
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‘Tis finally the season for students to exchange their Birkenstocks and Chubbies for some leggings and a “vintage” FSU sweatshirt purchased on Etsy because October is upon us once again, with both your grades and the temperature celebrating by going down on everyone
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For the students of FSU, October is the time to get spooky with pumpkin socks that have been out of style since 2011, enjoy the marginal difference in the insufferable heat and, most importantly, reconsider the depth of their relationship with their roommate.
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What’s that cucumbery-fresh aroma you detect on this fine Friday morning, you ask? That would be the sweet smell of success with, of course, the tiniest dash of permanent damage to your lungs.
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Walking into class 50 minutes late, she ceremoniously looks the professor right in the eye as she flops into the middle seat in the immediate front row and rips an intense cucumber hit from her vape. Carson has established enough animalistic dominance to make any sane person shiver.
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At this point in the school year, it's a given that parking on campus will always be hell on wheels and often becomes a vehicular, off-brand prequel to the Hunger Games that no one asked for.
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As we enter the fifth week of the semester without any hurricane breaks, many students are finding themselves in turmoil after realizing that school does, in fact, move on continuously.
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French, Spanish, Arabic, Hebrew or Italian; sometimes it feels like you just have way too many options when it comes to foreign language classes offered at FSU.
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With the semester well on its way to subtracting valuable years off of your gloomy, overworked life, it can become a little difficult to keep your head up high amongst the madness.
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Thousands of textbooks are stranded in semi trucks across the country this week as the FSU Bookstore assures students that the books they traded their family corgi, Pippingsworth, for are sure to arrive sometime between tomorrow and 37 years from now.
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Hold onto your Ray Bans, boys, it’s everyone with a blond combover and a dream for a "fiscally conservative but socially liberal" tomorrow’s favorite time of year: IFC rush week.
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In this economy, there are few certainties. Trends come and go, markets boom and bust; there's constant turnover. Only the bravest among us venture to dive in headfirst and risk everything to build the modern world’s most innovative and revolutionary companies.
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The start of the school year marks a time where everyone excitedly moves into their new overpriced homes and swarm the obscenely fresh, shiny and tiny Target built on the corpse of Coliseum.
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College is many things: a fresh start, a learning experience, and the best years of many people’s lives. But it’s also very stressful in ways that many don’t expect. For many, the combination of living on your own for the first time and having to balance big boy classes with every one of your RA’s inane and ridiculous activities can feel overwhelming. T
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Crenshaw Lanes might have made its way to freedom early this summer, but the half-roused skeleton of the Union still stands half sunk in an ungodly amount of rubble that’s only there to remind us of the biggest tragedy to strike this campus since the Squirrelnado of 2010.
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Buckle up kids, it’s that time of year when the Starbucks in Strozier runs out of flat lids and ice cubes at 11 AM and a familiar look of impending doom is plastered on the faces of every barely-sentient being on campus.
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The time has come where broke students pay $60 to put on a shapeless robe and wait two hours to walk 10 feet across a stage. Proud family members are ready to witness this milestone by trying to wave at a single person across an arena of 50,000 and taking photos on their cell phone cameras without a zoom function.
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We’ve all been on the receiving end of the classic dealer faux-paus: running out of small baggies to package up their weed. I get it, bags aren’t exactly the top priority in my grocery list either, it’s wedged somewhere between Honey Bunches of Oats and the expensive cheese I can only buy if I picked up extra shifts at work the previous week.
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