“The Tribune said that Ames and his gang created ‘a state of affairs in the municipal government of Minneapolis that discounts anything Tammany Hall ever dreamed of.’ Ames fled the city.”

— from my history textbook.

Isn’t it weird that it’s practically impossible to flee anymore? Satellites, cell phones, credit cards — all of these guarantee that if you’re running and someone with access to these is looking for you, you’re screwed. With all the technology on earth these days, you can’t hide. Everywhere you go, you’re being tracked.

Creepy.

Wait…Spencer and Heidi stayed in seperate hotels in Las Vegas and barely spoke off-camera? Could this mean that The Hills is…fake? No way. No. way. Jose.

Something along the lines of, “You never thought you’d scratch your skin off. Meth can change that.” The pool of blood in the sink anti-meth ad? Almost as thrilling as the hospital ad, but nowhere near as invigorating as the rusty, condemned bathroom you “never thought you’d lose your virginity here!” anti-meth ad.

I can’t stop thinking about Meth. The weird thing is, if they were trying to PROMOTE the drug, they’d be doing a really, really good job of it. The ads are everywhere!

Most Popular news stories on CNN, 3/22:

1. Pregnant woman tortured to death. (Obviously. She’s growing a baby inside of her! Do you have any idea how awful that must feel?)

2. Obama adviser’s firm part of probe

3. Jamie Lee Curtis shows skin. (From all the rumors I’ve heard, this is NOT something I want to check out.)

4. Cornflake sells for $1,350. ( The flake is shaped like Illinois. Waaaahoooo. “How bored do you have to be at breakfast to notice that?” — Donald.)

Wait, so nude pictures of Audrina from The Hills surfaced yesterday out of nowhere? And wait, isn’t there a season premiere of The Hills next week?

Wow! What a coincidence!

Backstreet Boys are playing at Ravinia this summer.

For those of you who know Ravinia, WTF?

For those of you who don’t know Ravinia, it’s a super-suburban outdoor venue that primarily has classical orchestral acts, but has some mainstream acts. Parents come out, spend a ridiculous amount of money on tiny cheeses and meats and wines, and sit in the grass and act as classy as they possibly can while sitting in the grass, and high school kids come and try to sneak beer in and wander around drunk.

So, now for all of us — WTF?

[Thanks to Evang for the tip]

A strange, older-looking grad student set his eyes (and hands and lips) on Gillman today, and wouldn’t let go. Read her frightening first-person account of what can happen when sitting on the Quad goes wrong:

so i was sitting next to the undergrad reading and i saw a shadow sit down to my right.
i looked over and there was a foreign-looking older guy sitting next to me, looking at me.
he started to small talk about what i was reading, asked me what my major was, and was generally the most awkward person i’d ever met.
i asked him the same questions and he said he was a mechanical engineering grad student from boston.
then after terrible awkward small talk for 10 minutes he said “i have to see you soon in the future” and i didnt know what he meant. so, he asked if he could get my email address or my phone number.
i jubilantly replied that email would be great, only to be shot down with an “i’d prefer your phone number” bit.
so being not-so-smart with creepers i gave him my number and got up to leave for class.
he stood up with me. problem number one.

then he asked me if i had any “friends”. it was at this point that i started looking around to see if it was a
dare or something. so i said that yes, indeed i do have a few friends.

“special friends?” oh, he meant boyfriend i guess.
so i told him that i was interested in some guy to get the creeper off my back and he replied with “what about me?”
i calmed down for a second and replied that i thought he was a very nice guy and i was glad i met him, but i had to go to class.

he started creeping in closer.

creepy dude: can i ask you one question?
me: fine, what is it?
creeper: can i have a kiss?
me: NO no no no no I don’t do that.

he proceeded to try to dodge in for my cheek. as i shoved him off i exclaimed that this was simply not gonna happen.
no fucking way.
i looked around for hidden cameras. where the hell is ashton kutcher?

he tried to put his arm around me.
got shoved off.
he tried to hold my hand.
got shoved away.

all the while i was telling him im not like this and it wasnt going to happen.
i started to walk towards my class and he followed the ENTIRE way, trying to touch me and telling me he thought i was wonderful.
i ducked into the nearest school building and yelled adios.

this is why i cant read on benches anymore.

People need to give newspapers a break. After all, the New York Times apparently hunted down Spitzer’s $80,000 prostitute!

I’m writing a story about bias in the news media during the primaries for my news-editing class, and instead of saying “on the night when election results were announced,” I almost wrote “on the results show.”

I don’t know how to manipulate photos, or cut and paste things inside of them. This, my friends, is real:

Someone is mourning the Chief’s eradication so much that they built him a grave in their front yard.