By: Kyle Kowalski It’s 12:00 PM on a Tuesday. I’m hungry, you’re hungry, why can’t I just reach my hands over the counter and snag a scoop of queso with my bare hands. The line has stretched all the way to Furman because Zackary can’t decide between sourdough and pretzel...
Kyle Kowalski
By: Kyle Kowalski It’s you and the TV. No distractions, no obligations, no pressures from the outside world. Just pure sloth and reruns of Friends. But within seconds, you’re blasted with bright colors and a blaring soundtrack from the early 2010s. There are sports cars, models, slot machines spitting out...
Sure, I’ve survived the Commons cold. My body has even braved the drippy, hot, Rand tenders that run through your intestines like a bat out of hell. Yet all throughout Nashville, what poses the greatest threat to my health are these cursed thrift stores. Every weekend, I think that the...
Maybe you’re wondering why I’m in Memphis donating blood plasma. Or maybe it’s because you saw me literally steal candy from a baby so I could pawn it at the local Cash 4 Gold. Either way, I’ve hit rock bottom on both a financial and ontological level. And it’s all...
Admit it, you’re broke. Gambling on penny stocks to squeeze any dopamine from the dried-up sponge you call a brain has left you desperate for a quick buck. And sure, selling your Papa John’s gift cards for cash will save you temporarily, but loan sharks are not the biggest fans...
